Okkar: Battle for Balance of Power

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Battle For Balance 
Wahid's mediation allowed the Big Three to bridge basic differences 
By JOSE MANUEL TESORO Jakarta 
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About the only common goal among Megawati (left), Wahid (center) and Rais
(right) was to change the status quo bequeathed by strongman Suharto
Kemal Jufri for Asiaweek
 
 The main organizing principle of Indonesian politics is not consensus, 
perhaps
not even compromise. It is balance. The stability of the vast nation has 
always
depended on achieving the right equilibrium among its many religions, ethnic
groups and even ideologies. Over three decades, Suharto had mastered that
essential art. He made himself the fulcrum between civilians and soldiers,
Christians and Muslims, indigenous Indonesians and ethnic Chinese. When he 
fell
from power, the balance was shattered. Its components were left to battle each
other. 

Post-Suharto Indonesia has been searching for a new equilibrium. Twice before,
the country had produced leaders capable of fixing each political element in
its place, and cheat chaos. Who would now play the role of Sukarno or Suharto?
Against the discredited state and the questionable legitimacy of President 
B.J.
Habibie, there was only a motley group of reformist leaders, none of whom
seemed able to gather the pieces of the nation back together. In fact, they
seemed to represent the pieces: Megawati Sukarnoputri, heir to her father
Sukarno's secular nationalism; Abdurrahman Wahid, revered leader of 
traditional
Islam; and Amien Rais, modernist Muslim intellectual and urban reform hero. 

   Each had imperfections. Megawati was a housewife-turned-reluctant
politician, and Wahid an erratic, half-blind cleric. Rais was an ambitious
professor with conflicting loyalties. The best hope was that the three could
work together, showing the whole was greater than the parts. But with the
passage of time, the differences among them only grew greater. In the end, it
took the wiliest of them to prepare to bridge the widening gap. It paid off 
for
him - but will it for Indonesia? 

The story of the leaders' tribulations began at Wahid's modest home in
Ciganjur, South Jakarta, on Nov. 10, 1998. It was three days before the end of
a special session of Indonesia's electoral college and upper house of the
legislature, the People's Consultative Assembly (MPR), called by Habibie to
confirm his agenda. Visitors brought unusual news to Wahid, leader of 
Nahdlatul
Ulama (NU), the influential Muslim mass organization with 30 million members.
Some retired generals and former officials spoke of a possible coup. That
helped push Gus Dur (as his followers know him) to declare that a long-planned
meeting between himself and other reformist leaders must start that very
afternoon. He would wait no longer. 

His decision marked the end of a five-month effort by the student movement. 
The
youth had played a role in forcing Suharto's May 1998 resignation; many among
them were dismayed when his protégé Habibie ascended to the presidency. They
were equally disappointed by popular leaders' inability to form a common front
against what they saw as the remnants of the corrupt Suharto regime and the
military establishment. "The country will fall apart if the leaders cannot
unite," Widdi Aswindi of the Bandung Institute of Technology (ITB) recalls
thinking. 

Students hatched a plan to bring together four popular leaders to oppose
Habibie. They were Megawati, Gus Dur, Rais and Java's last king, Sultan
Hamengkubuwono X of Jogjakarta. But while some were close (Megawati and Gus 
Dur
are old friends), others had antagonistic relationships, especially with Rais.
Although the group he leads, the city-based, modernist Muhammadiyah, is older
than NU and has almost as many members, the political scientist from
Jogjakarta's Gadjah Mada University was considered an ambitious upstart. He 
and
Gus Dur had clashed over political and religious issues; Megawati considered
him sly and inconsistent. Hamengkubuwono noted that for two decades, he 
himself
had fought Rais - and in his own kingdom. 

Students soon understood that only Gus Dur could bring all of them to the same
table. But he was recovering from a stroke earlier that year. As Habibie's
November MPR special session approached, the students grew more desperate.
Finally, with Gus Dur's decision on Nov. 10, their wish was granted. The other
three leaders were called to Ciganjur. 

The meeting began in Gus Dur's living room shortly after 3 p.m. Three student
representatives demanded that the four leaders save Indonesia from Habibie, 
and
declare a transitional government. "We wanted them to say, 'We are ready to
lead,'" says the ITB's Widdi. But the students were disappointed. Habibie 
would
probably fall within three months, they were told, so there was no need to do
much of anything. 

The split between the leaders and reform-minded students was a fundamental 
one.
"The [leaders] wanted democracy in a more institutionalized manner, not 
through
the street movement," says Fajrul Falaakh, a senior NU executive who moderated
the meeting. Nonetheless, the encounter produced what became known as the
Ciganjur Agreement. The four declared eight common goals: national unity,
better representative institutions, decentralization, new parliamentary
elections, reform in the interests of future generations, a halt to 
corruption,
an end to military involvement in government, and the removal of the Islamic
vigilantes Habibie's backers had deployed to guard the MPR special session. At
last, Indonesia's desire for change had been given form. A common vision was
born. 

Yet the four leaders were far from a working political union, though that did
not stop some of them from trying. On May 17, 1999, Megawati was launching her
book Moves and Steps: Megawati Sukarnoputri in a Jakarta luxury hotel when an
emissary brought her a draft document from her longtime ally, Gus Dur. It was 
a
proposal for a united front among the parties Megawati, Gus Dur and Rais had
founded to contest Indonesia's landmark parliamentary elections on June 7. The
front would bring together her Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle 
(PDI-P),
Wahid's National Awakening Party (PKB) and Rais's National Mandate Party (PAN)
under a single pro-reform umbrella. The idea, mooted by PAN, had been
fine-tuned by Gus Dur's people. Still, Megawati was suspicious. She did not
relish standing beside Rais in the elections. 

Gus Dur's aide stressed that the proposal was not for a coalition, but for a
common stand against Habibie and former ruling party Golkar, which would also
contest the polls. Megawati slowly warmed to the idea, though she still seemed
reluctant during a meeting with Wahid at her Jakarta home later that evening.
Finally, Gus Dur told her: "Well, if you don't want to sign it, fine." She
signed the accord, despite her own reservations. 

The declaration, which became known as the Paso Communiqué, was read out after
3 a.m. at the home of PKB deputy leader Alwi Shihab on Paso Street, Jakarta. 
In
it, PDI-P, PKB and PAN reiterated their commitment to obstruct the "status
quo." It said: "We declare shared steps to continue reform and invite all
components to create together a new, democratic Indonesia." The three parties'
backers enthusiastically fashioned banners displaying the parties' colors, and
began campaigning together. Everyone hoped the events would lead to a 
coalition
and, ultimately, Habibie's defeat. 

Unknown to either Megawati or Gus Dur, however, Rais had been discussing a
similar anti-status quo front with two Muslim groupings, the United 
Development
(PPP) and Justice (PK) parties. Three days after the Paso accord, PAN, PPP and
PK signed their own agreement. As Megawati and Gus Dur saw it, Rais had 
brought
uninvited visitors to the table, mixed political Islam with the pro-reform
front, and brashly made PAN the link between the nationalist-traditional Islam
wing of the reform movement, and the modernist Muslim one. Megawati turned to
an adviser who had persuaded her to sign the Paso Communiqué: "See? What did I
tell you?" 

Yet Rais had a point. Indonesia had undergone sweeping social changes since 
the
days of Megawati's father. Islam had strengthened, especially among the young,
the middle class and in the cities. There was a generation of educated,
self-confident, modernist Muslim leaders, of which Rais was a member. They 
were
seeking to reconcile politics with piety. They also wanted change, as Islam 
had
also been a victim of Suharto. Why should they be frozen out by the other
reform forces? A split in the end would only benefit entrenched interests, 
such
as Golkar and the military. 

On July 7, a downcast Amien Rais left Jakarta and flew home to Jogjakarta. A
month after the election booths had closed, returns were slowly coming in.
PAN's vote tally was not even 8%. Rais was tired and discouraged. "PAN was a
brave experiment," he said. In a burst of idealism, he had formed a party that
attempted to marry middle-class intellectuals with his Muslim base. Now he was
staring at decisive defeat. "We overestimated the people's willingness to vote
for ideas rather than personalities," he said. 

His relations with Megawati continued to sour. Rais made numerous approaches 
to
her, yet he felt a distinct chill from her direction. Megawati's party had won
34% of the electorate. For her, the poll result was her mandate: that she 
would
be president should no longer be in question. 

She evaded the press, surfacing rarely to make a public comment. She met with
other party leaders, but they received no commitments on any roles they might
have if she formed the next government. In a July 23 article published by a
Japanese newspaper, she asked: "The people have spoken clearly. Why do we have
to return to the past?" That was much the same sentiment in her speech a few
days later, declaring election victory. When reporters caught up with her
during her tour of East Timor in August, she told them: "Is there a coalition
in a presidential system? No." 

But Megawati also had trouble within her own party. Since the forced fusion of
Christian parties with Sukarno's old Indonesian National Party (PNI) during
Suharto's 1973 streamlining of politics, the original PDI has had problems
balancing its various wings. Those divisions Megawati brought with her when 
she
split off to form her own party in 1996. The splits were reflected in the
extended battle among cadres over who would be the party's MP candidates. PNI
elements were sidelined, and the resulting list of legislators was heavy with
Christian candidates - an extremely sensitive issue in a Muslim-majority
country. 

The widening rift between Megawati and Rais was not lost on Gus Dur. Nor was
the gathering impression among pious Muslim voters that the PDI-P was 
dominated
by non-Muslims. Besides the resurgence of the old nationalism-vs.-Islam
conflict that had characterized Indonesian politics since Independence, there
was another worrying development. Golkar, which had the second-largest bloc of
votes, was wooing Megawati's PDI-P members. The conservative PDI-P had more in
common with the broadly nationalist Golkar and the military than with Islamic
forces. A Megawati government formed by the natural attraction among the 
PDI-P,
Golkar and the army would likely exclude political Islam. 

Despite his reputation for religious tolerance, Gus Dur also understood that 
if
Islam continued to be marginalized in Indonesian politics, as it had under 
much
of the Sukarno and Suharto eras, there would be trouble. He and Rais agreed
that Islam had to have a role in the next government - if for different
reasons. It is unclear who came up with the idea for a united bloc of the many
Muslim parties, or that Gus Dur would be its presidential candidate. But by
late June, Gus Dur and Rais were heavily into talks with other Muslim 
political
leaders about forming what Rais later dubbed "the Center Axis." Such a bloc
would force the PDI-P, Golkar and the military to include them in any new
balance of power. 

Participating in a united Muslim political movement was an extremely risky
gambit for Gus Dur. It still is. Indonesian Islam is splintered, and so are 
the
components of the Center Axis. The vehicle is as convenient for Muslim
chauvinists as it is for players who see Islam as the new way to gain both
political and economic power. What about the danger posed by Habibie and his
allies, who in the past have had few qualms about mixing religion and politics
in order to boost the president? A close Gus Dur adviser told Asiaweek in late
June: "It's a risk we have to take." Wahid continued to back Megawati, but
never closed the door to his own nomination as the Center Axis' presidential
candidate. In private, he told people he was on Islam's side in order to
protect Megawati. 

Gus Dur's canny maneuvering between nationalist and Islamic forces meant that
no matter who won as president, Megawati or himself, each side would be in the
hands of moderate leaders who had long cooperated with each other. But the
political reality is slightly different. Having denied Megawati the 
legislature
and the presidency, Gus Dur's Islamic camp is poised to dominate the nation's
institutions. Will it now deal the nationalists in? The answer will decide
Indonesia's stability. 

On Sept. 18, armed forces chief Gen. Wiranto summoned the leaders of all major
parties to a meeting. The venue was to be his official residence in central
Jakarta. But at Megawati's request, a more "neutral" locale was chosen: the
Proclamation Museum. The choice turned out to be very symbolic. As the party
chiefs spoke and vowed to avoid violence during the presidential election, 
they
were watched from a far wall by the subjects of two portraits: Sukarno and his
first vice president, Mohammed Hatta, a Muslim leader. Throughout Indonesia's
long battle for reform since the fall of Suharto, the nationalist-Muslim
cooperation shown by the country's Independence-era leaders had been a guiding
model. Five decades later, it still seems the right balance. Making it work is
now in the hands of those leaders' descendants.


Burma Studies Group