 |
Al-Ahram Weekly 3 - 9 February 2000 Issue No. 467 
|
||
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
|
||
|
Al-Ahram Weekly 3 - 9 February 2000 Issue No. 467
|
||
| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
|
||
Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Special Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters The politics of despair
By Sameh Naguib
In the past few weeks, hundreds of Indonesian citizens have been killed in Muslim-Christian clashes in the Moluccas islands and elsewhere. Groups of youths roam the streets of Ambon, the capital city of the Moluccas, armed with automatic weapons. Sometimes, they are to be seen dragging the decapitated bodies of their enemies around with them. Snipers have opened fire on civilians from the tops of building, while units of the supposedly "neutral" security forces have emptied rounds of ammunition into crowds of bystanders. In some of the outlying islands, the situation appears to be even worse, and there are widespread rumours of a massacre in Halmahera. Indeed, the death toll in the Moluccas over the past twelve months is already estimated to be several times higher than in East Timor during the same period.
Meanwhile, both the military establishment and the democratic government which came to power last year have done more to fan the flames, than to dowse them. On 14 January, some 100,000 protesters rallied in central Jakarta calling for a holy war against Christians in the Moluccas. Among those attending was the supposedly moderate Amien Rais, the speaker of the country's parliament. Rais egged the crowd on, telling them that the violence in the islands was a bid to weaken Islam in Indonesia. "Our patience has limits," he said.
The protesters called for the resignation of Vice President Megawati Sukarnoputri, who has done little to resolve the crisis since she was made officially responsible for Ambon by President Abdurrahman Wahid. When the latest bout of violence broke out on 26 December, Megawati responded by leaving on a New Year's trip to Hong Kong.
The Moluccas, formerly known as the Spice Islands, were one of the last areas of Indonesia to be liberated from Dutch colonial rule. The population of roughly two million people is divided fairly evenly into Christians and Muslims, although, overall, Christians account for only 10 per cent of Indonesia's 210 million citizens.
In 1950, following independence, the largely Christian ruling elite made an abortive attempt to form their own Republic of the South Moluccas, which was quickly crushed by the national army. Many Ambonese Christians fled to the Netherlands, where a self-styled "government in exile" still exists to this day. Over the past 50 years, the influence of this elite has increasingly been eroded, both by the influx of mainly Muslim immigrants from the Sulaweii, and by the Suharto regime's policy of replacing Christian civil servants with Muslims.
Violence first erupted in the Moluccas on 19 January last year, when a dispute between a Christian driver and a Muslim passenger in Ambon city escalated into riots that culminated in the burning of a market. Trouble flared up again several months later, and calm was only restored when Jakarta sent additional troops to the region.
The latest outbreak of fighting dates from the day after Christmas, when a Christian minibus driver was blamed for injuring a 14 year-old Muslim boy. This led to the burning of Silo Church, the largest Protestant church in Ambon, and with it the most murderous round of killings to date. The situation deteriorated rapidly, as Christians and Muslims set about patrolling their own neighbourhoods after dark, ominously armed with automatic rifles.
It now appears that the Moluccas may simply have been the touch paper leading to a much larger powder keg. The past two weeks have seen communal violence spread to other regions of Indonesia which were previously at peace. The latest outbreak is in Lombok, a popular vacation destination east of the famous tourist island of Bali, and some 1,400 km from Ambon. When a peaceful demonstration in the capital, Mataram, disintegrated into riots, the violence continued for ten days, and scores of people were killed or injured.
There are growing suspicions that sections of the Indonesian military are involved in fuelling the unrest. Police operations have found not only home-made firearms and machetes, but also French-manufactured automatic rifles and grenades -- weapons which are only accessible to the military.
Conspiracy theorists note that successive waves of violence washing over the archipelago have tended to coincide with key political events: in January 1999, as East Timor prepared for a referendum; last July, amid signs that Megawati's party would emerge victorious from the elections; and again last month, immediately after General Wiranto, Indonesia's most powerful army commander, was called in for official questioning over alleged human rights violations in East Timor.
Conspiracy theories, however, whether grounded in fact or not, can never fully explain why people are prepared to follow the course of action that is laid out for them. The army may be providing the guns, but the hatred and despair which drive such acts of communal violence cannot be created out of nothing.
The underlying causes lie elsewhere. When mass demonstrations by students and workers led to the toppling of former dictator Suharto in 1998, the country was filled with hope, and communal violence was nowhere to be seen. People felt that the terrible injustices they had endured under Suharto's rule were at last coming to an end. Expectations were high. A new era was being ushered in -- one which would mark an end, not only to corruption, but also to the gross inequalities which had long characterised Indonesian society. Yet since then, the hopes placed in the leaders of the "liberal" opposition -- figures such as Megawati, Wahid and Rais -- have been largely disappointed.
This is hardly surprising, given that the position and influence of the generals remain firmly entrenched. Meanwhile, despite some superficial changes implemented by President Wahid, the economic situation remains catastrophic, with over 40 million unemployed. Policies designed to reduce regional inequalities are proving to be too little, too late. In this context, it is only too easy for great hopes to turn into greater despair. And it is that despair which is being expressed through the present violence.
Until the democratic movement of students and workers which toppled Suharto can reassert itself, the killing in the Moluccas, and elsewhere, looks likely to continue.
