Hendropriyono’s name emerged again when Jones was expelled. In an interview with Tempo magazine, in June 2004, Hendropriyono labelled the organization’s reports on Indonesia, particularly those on Islamic Radicalism and the separatism-racked provinces of Aceh and West Papua as inaccurate, biased and subversive, though he gave no details (Tempo 2004).
In an ICG report on JI operations and the Christmas Eve bombing in Medan, however, published in December 2002, ICG had suggested, although not conclusively, that the Free Aceh Movement, Indonesia’s mil- itary (TNI) and JI may be surprising bedfellows. In addition, it recom- mended that the government strengthen the capacity and coordination of intelligence, with an emphasis on the police rather than the BIN or the TNI, and also pay serious attention to corruption among police, the military and the immigration service, particularly in connection with the trade in arms and explosives. It was also a police report from the head of BIN that had the executive editor of the Rakyat Merdeka daily charged for defamation.
This was not the sort of information the Indonesian military and its backers were keen to see from a source which had credibility with Indonesian and foreign journalists.
Sukarno’s efforts to secularize the Indonesia state, depoliticizing and syn- chretizing Islam across the country. By 2006, however, the country looked increasingly Islamist.
Suharto, despite his power and influence, had not been able to prevent divisions emerging across the country, even within the military ABRI (the Armed Forces of the Republic of Indonesia – Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia), the protector of the pancasilafaith.3These divisions were particularly felt at the periphery of the state, where there were more localized national identities: in Banda Aceh, Timor and Papua. By the turn of the century, however, Indonesia’s modern veneer was also worn in places, and religious concerns had pushed through the uneven surface. There developed evidence of a shift towards greater public and private practice of the Islamic faith in Indonesia, a process that was described as the ‘santri- fication’ of Indonesian society.4
The increased religious identification, in turn, reflected wider trends in the region, the growing awareness of Islam’s global identity, and the increasingly coherent emergence of its militant expression. As Marxism once was, Islam had become a change agent, ‘transforming the culture and institutions of modern Southeast Asia, sometimes buttressing them against the advance of global capitalism and Western popular culture, at other times accommodating notions of democracy and universal human rights’
(Raymer 2002).
But Southeast Asian Muslims, like Muslims worldwide, faced competing interpretations of Islam and adopted and utilized the identity in varying ways. While rural Indonesia often reflected the mix of faiths that was the country’s inheritance, urban Indonesians had become, on the whole, modern. Moderate views, therefore, still dominated Indonesian Islam. But, an unwillingness by the political elites to challenge the more doctrinaire views of religious extremists had allowed the radicals to shape the public debate in Indonesia. This was, increasingly, reflected in the local media, and became a particular focus for their foreign media counterparts. In the streets, where FHM and Cosmopolitan rubbed shoulders with reli- gious tracts, ‘the cultural battle for the soul of Indonesia can look like a tropical rumble between the Jihadis and the sex columnists’ (Donnan 2005).
Where there might have been division over reading matter, on one thing, at least, Indonesians were increasingly of one mind. Action by the United States in Afghanistan and Iraq managed to unite Indonesians in opposition to Washington. When Abu Bakar Ba’asyir (the alleged spiritual leader of the Jemmah Islamiyah terror network) led the criticism of the US, the Indonesia government, sensitive to the importance of US trade and financial support, remained silent, and he was feted as a hero. After his
arrest and trial in 2003, for allegedly being part of the Bali bombings, the more secular media like Kompasscovered the trial in a way that was fitting with the liberal intention that media be the history of first record, but coverage by other media including Republikawas pro-Ba’asyir. The new president, SBY, even maintained that Jemmah Islamiyah’s existence in Indonesia was unproven, which did not bode well for Washington and its allies hoped that the organization would be banned in Indonesia (Donnan 2004). In direct contrast to SBY’s statements, police raids in early 2007 uncovered information on the growing influence of the Jemaah Islamiyah terrorist organization in Indonesia, uncovering details of an assassination
‘hit squad’ with a large cache of weapons and plans to target foreign diplo- mats, local officials and high profile Christians (ABC News 2007).
For all the official denials, the Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005, and the bombings in Jakarta in 2003 and 2004, had placed the ‘war on terror’ firmly on Indonesia’s doorstep. All the while, the media, in particular the new media, was seen as carrying change to the heart of these societies. The new technologies, moreover, supported both a concentration and a dispersion of power. New media allowed those on the periphery to develop and con- solidate power, and ultimately to challenge the authority of the centre. In this high-tech mobilization of radical constituencies, many Indonesia voices spoke up in opposition to globalization, whether reflecting national, regional, local or religious discontent (Majod 1999, p. 81) challenging the authority of the centre and drawing a response from the political elites.
Indeed, despite the initial flurry of activity after the first Bali bombings, attempts to eradicate the cells of radical Islamic terrorists in Indonesia looked flimsy, as political ambitions meant the elite in Jakarta were ‘track- ing the responses of the major Muslim leaders’ (Desker 2002). The election of SBY suggested, however, public support for those who were prepared to control militant Islam. What was certain was that a greater focus on secu- rity meant the military, momentarily pushed aside by the initial surge of popular democratic fervour in the wake of Suharto’s fall, stepped forward to retake their place as a dominant force in the country and its political culture, restored to their dual fungsi, as both defenders of the nation and as a social-political force in national development. This, naturally, had an important impact on the environment in which the media operated.
Indonesia has had an image problem. If Southeast Asia, as a whole, was seen in the US as a risky place, Indonesia, as the world’s largest Muslim country and bordering the strategically important Malacca Straits, was the region’s poster child for danger (Pesek 2003). This was a problem exacer- bated by the ‘TV effect’ – where the focus of media attention, in particular television, distorts the daily reality. This was something Indonesia could ill afford, given the importance of the US to its economy. The US was the
biggest foreign investor in Southeast Asia, with direct investments totalling nearly US$90 billion, and its third largest export market valued at $US50 billion. And international concern about the security situation in Southeast Asia was very real (Urquhart 2004).
The events following 2002 led the international media to paint a bleak picture of the security situation in Southeast Asia (Clendenning 2004). And with bombs and terrorist training camps continuing to rend the reputation of the country and some of its ASEAN partners, the region looked to be a risk too far for many investors.5Successive Indonesian governments closed their eyes to the militant threat, allowing Islamic militias to foment sectar- ian strife in areas like Maluku and Sulawesi, and security analysts main- tained JI cells were active in Indonesia (McBeth 7 November 2002, p. 13). The links with the network of al-Qaeda terrorists and to 9/11 archi- tect Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, were reinforced by the capture of his Southeast Asian deputy – Indonesian terrorist, Riduan Isamuddin, in Thailand in 2003 (Hussain et al. 2004, pp. 1–2).
Sydney Jones suggested it was a wide network including ‘individuals with well-established political legitimacy’ for defying Suharto, blurring the lines between terrorists, political dissidents and Islamic extremists (Wain 2002).
For many years, the international community was in denial about the development of militant Islam in Indonesia. Perhaps the dogma generated in the 1980s and 1990s, particularly by neighbour Australia, portraying Indonesia’s ‘civil Islam’ as more tolerant and capital friendly than the Middle Eastern alternative; a benign and cooperative neighbour within a stable and prosperous Southeast Asian region, led to a misreading of the development of Islamic extremism.
As the new century unrolled, it was clear that, within Indonesia at least, the desire to downplay Islamic extremism continued, and the media, par- ticularly the foreign media, was held accountable for distributing the wrong messages about Indonesia. In mid-October 2004, a senior police officer, General Ansyaad Mbai, accused the press of giving too much ‘visibility’ to Indonesia’s Islamist activists, and of being responsible for the country’s vul- nerability to terrorism (RSF 2004). Muslim pressure groups were increas- ingly powerful, whether persuading the government to be lenient with Ba’asyir (BBC 17 August 2005), or influencing media content (Sangadji 2005). The atmosphere of threat encouraged self-censorship – especially when reporting on the military and Muslim militants. It should be pointed out, however, that SBY and his vice president, Jusuf Kalla, have been far more media aware than Megawati. Aspinall, Jones et al. are now free to deal in Indonesia once more.
Fears of an Islamist backlash in the run up to the 2004 elections were unfounded. Despite the bombing of the Australian Embassy in the run up
to Indonesia’s first direct presidential election in September 2004, the voting went ahead generally peacefully. The election was praised as a key step in the country’s transition to democracy after the downfall of ex-dictator Suharto in 1998 (Associated Press 4 October 2004). But Indonesia’s security dilemma was highlighted once more, after the 2005 bombing in Bali brought renewed international pressure on Jakarta to act against JI (Associated Press 5 October 2005). The new President’s response was to turn to the military. Speaking at a ceremony to mark the 60th anniversary of the Indonesian armed forces, SBY said that acts of terror- ism had repeatedly sullied the good name of the country within the inter- national community (Associated Press 5 October 2005).
The new president brought a characteristic pragmatism to the dilemma.
In an interview before his inauguration, he made it clear that in his efforts to combat terrorism, he would step up dialogues with Muslim groups to ensure that there was no ‘miscommunication’. However, in line with news that his landslide victory was indicative of popular support for his pledge to fight terror and fix Indonesia’s battered economy, he was soon quoted as saying that tougher laws might be needed to crack down on Islamic extrem- ism in the country (Pereira 2004).
Subsequently, in November 2005, rewarding SBY’s pragmatism, Washington restored military ties cut in 1992, in protest against its actions in East Timor. The move came, according to the Jakarta Post, as ‘a reward for the most-populous Muslim nation’s cooperation against al-Qaeda- linked militants’, and despite objections from human rights groups that said Indonesia had done too little to punish offenders for the violence in East Timor. State Department spokesman Sean McCormack, significantly, described Indonesia as ‘a voice of moderation in the Islamic world’
(Reuters 23 November 2005).
It was a voice of moderation, however, that was all too aware of its Islamic links. Indonesia’s new President was quick to establish his Islamic credentials with a tour of other Islamic nations. In May 2006, Yudhyono met Iran’s President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, aware that as relations improved with the US, he risked the fate of Pakistan’s Pervez Musharraf,
‘scorned by many fellow countrymen as America’s lapdog’ (The Economist 20 May 2006).
Likewise, Yudhyono was no more prepared to countenance dissent than his predecessors. The now ‘infamous’ articles 134, 136, 137 and 154 of the Criminal Code, which criminalize expressions of disrespect to the govern- ment, were used to detain protesters almost as frequently in the first seven years of reformasi as they were to incarcerate dissidents in the last seven years of Suharto’s rule remain, and the President showed no signs of dis- couraging the ‘overzealous enforcement of these archaic provisions’,
underlined in 2005 by the arrest of students for burning his image (Meidyatama 2005). A controversial draft of the Criminal Code was criti- cized by the Press Council for allowing for the criminal prosecution of journalists who violated the law in the course of their jobs, citing concerns that journalists committing libel would be tried as criminals rather than as a civil case (AMCBMarch–April 2005, p. 12). Clearly, SBY’s positioning in the media and his ability to communicate effectively to internal and exter- nal audiences would play a key role in the perceived success of his government.
SBY appeared to be a very able media manipulator. Like many other Asian politicians SBY played the show biz card to beat Megawati in the presidential election, and had literally sung his way to success: ‘the
“affective power” of inherited charisma may be persuasive, but in this com- petition of political celebrity in a democratic election, the singing general triumphed over the revolutionary’s daughter’ (Hughes-Freeland 2007, p. 193).
The President has continued to use the media to play to both the West and to his more radical constituencies. Stephen Schwartz, the IMF’s Country Director for Indonesia, was complimentary about the President’s financial management, applauding the fact that the country has achieved significant macroeconomic stability:
The Indonesian government handled the abolition of the fuel subsidy very well in terms of containing inflationary pressures, and has shown sound judgment in respect of monetary policy as well. In fact, Indonesia has done so well in terms of macroeconomic and fiscal performance, that it paid back its IMF loan four years ahead of schedule. (Harcourt 2006)
When hard-line Muslims, angered by caricatures of Prophet Muhammad published in a Danish newspaper, stormed the lobby of the Rajawali Tower building where the Danish Embassy was located in Jakarta, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono added his voice to the condemnation.
Speaking at a news conference, SBY said:
The Indonesian government condemns the reprinting of the images by Western European media. The publication is clearly insensitive to the views and beliefs of other religions . . . the justification of freedom of expression used by the media is difficult to accept . . . Human rights are not absolute and their imple- mentation must not restrict or insult the beliefs of others. (Jakarta Post 5 February 2006)
This ability to play to both sides has also shown itself in SBY’s attitudes to a free media. Adam Rainer, the Indonesia programme director for the democratic policy institute, the Friedrich Naumann Stiftung, suggests that,
in comparison to previous presidents, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono has from the outset shown a more thorough understanding of the role of the media in a presidential democracy: ‘he is open to journalists and converts his public appearances into effective media shows’ (Rainer 2005). But, despite saying publicly in February 2005 that he had no intention of curbing media freedoms, criticism from the media of government policies, including the lifting of fuel subsidies, seems to have irritated the President.
At a dinner at the Indonesian Embassy in Kuala Lumpur on 14 December, 2005, he was reported as saying that ‘even if you compare to liberal demo- cratic countries like the US and Europe, the scale of democracy in Indonesian media has already passed the US. This is what you call an off the mark democracy’ (Ardi 2005).
The debate over pornography promoted by Keadalan in the National Assembly proves that the more media-savvy approach that SBY has evolved still involves a clear intention of controlling the political space.
When the President discussed pornography and public welfare with national Muslim leaders in a small Indonesian-Chinese mosque in Pasar Baru, SBY said pornography did not have to be part of media freedoms:
The Constitution says that human rights are absolute unless they contravene accepted values of decency and norms, or impinge on matters of security and public order. While pornography was a problem, the content of some tabloid TV shows, with their gratuitous, often unsavory treatment of stories also posed a threat to public morality. (Hotland 2006)
CONCLUSION
Like many of its Southeast Asian neighbours, the history of the Indonesian mass communications media has been marked by a fraught relationship with authoritarianism. The link between the communications media and political change remains ambiguous in Indonesia, however it is possible to trace connections between the media and the control of information both in the creation and the survival of Suharto’s Indonesia, as well as the col- lapse of the President’s New Order. While a direct causal link between the media and the fall of Suharto is hard to draw, ‘in its pores one could see the impending end’ (Sen and Hill 2000, p. 1).
The part that communications and the flow of information within the state plays in defining that state and creating a meaningful homogeneity that makes it possible to imagine and gives it its coherence, is also played out in full in Indonesia. As Kellner notes, technological developments and the current round of global economic integration have ensured that the mass communication media and its connected apparatus have become
increasingly central in daily life in Asia, even in societies like Indonesia where economic disparities mean the distribution of media products is uneven.
Crucially, Indonesia’s political elites have long appreciated the impor- tance of the media and, as its centrality has increased, so the political elites have perceived a growing new media impact on their security and the integrity of the state. This has directly affected political behaviour, forcing them to look for ways to bring the media back into line and restore the gate- keeping role lost to technological development at the end of the Suharto era.
So, while the end of the Suharto era brought a dramatic opening in media freedoms and a growth in the media industry that, itself, had contributed to the emergence of a public sphere and civil society, the industry remained exposed to political interference. As this chapter shows, the desire to control has limited the drive for media freedom as evidenced by the legislation intro- duced by Megawati and continued, more pragmatically, by SBY.
National level censorship was formally defeated with the collapse of the Suharto regime in May 1998. However, in this delicately imagined state, ele- ments of the old power elite including the military, business and politicians continued to use the media to further their ambitions and interests. The col- lapse of the old Suharto system and the highly centralized state authority had ‘opened the door for a new struggle to reforge coalitions and build regimes’ (Robison 2001, p. 109).
When the Suharto regime could not resolve its crisis of legitimacy, ele- ments of the regime began to embrace democracy as a possible option to remain powerful. Their accommodation represented the initial crafting of democracy in Indonesia, as a ‘reforma partada – a negotiated agreement between democratic forces and interests from the old regime’ (Di Palma 1990, p. 8). The scramble for control of the mass communications media marked the efforts of competing elites to control the way their messages are conveyed to internal and external stakeholders.
The new media was seen as central to the new democratic process. The globalized media had brought images of democracy to Indonesians.
Misunderstood, uncertain in its elements but, nevertheless, embraced by many. Indeed, the democratic aspirations shared by so many Indonesians can be seen to be part of the beginning of a process of building a democ- ratic political culture. However, as with the significant increase in the public understanding of democracy brought about in Indonesia by the voter edu- cation programmes, it would seem the democratic principles were being
‘internalized by actually working within the democratic process’ (Dalton and Shin 2003, p. 19).
Whether this will be enough, in the long run, to secure an open media and democratic pluralism is unclear. Indonesia remains an ethnically,