The other morning I was sitting on my balcony, high up in my apartment block in Jakarta. I let my mind drift away, enveloped in the early-morning heat and sensations of a tropical city. How could I ever go back to working in the Euston Road? Some workmen by the gate caught my eye, and when I left for work I noticed that the entrance gates to the block had been clad in barbed wire. Nero fiddled while Rome burnt; will I be able to do the same in Jakarta if the elections go wrong ?
The 7 June poll is upon us, and election fever has hit Indonesia. Election fever here is raw and untamed, ballot boxes in equal measure with barbed wire. For this is an election that has come to a people without politics for a generation, unsure of the rules of the democratic game. Indonesia is a ship politically adrift, all potential captains being unknown, untrained or no good.
The general election was called after the toppling of President Suharto last May. Suharto was forced out of office after 32 years at the helm, amid the worst political and economic problems to hit Indonesia in 30 years. Thus the election should be a landmark event in Indonesian history, not because elections are new to Indonesia – Suharto held elections every five years, as stipulated in the constitution – but because it will be the first election since 1955 in which the winner is not known in advance.
In the past year the number of political parties has mushroomed. So has confusion about what the parties stand for. At the last election, two years ago, there were three parties: the governing Golkar group, the Muslim-based PPP and a nationalist-cum-all-other-interest party (PDI). The parties towed the government line. The system was simple, neat and efficient. It just wasn’t democracy.
Unlike that last election, the forthcoming one will be a grand affair: 48 parties are jockeying for the attention of the electorate. Colourful flags and banners are everywhere. Red flags are likely to be those of the PDIP, headed by Megawati Sukarnoputri, the daughter of its charismatic founding president, Sukarno; yellow is for Golkar (and its current president, B J Habibie); blue, black and green for any number of Muslim parties. Once the euphoria of having a choice of parties fades, reality sets in: are there 48 different parties to choose from, or are they just variations on a theme?
To help navigate the voter through this porridge of political parties, there is no better place to start than a political-party chart showing the logos of all competing parties. This can be bought from any street vendor for the equivalent of 15p. Despite being eye-catching and colourful (and a souvenir must for the few tourists still around), the chart reveals not the differences but the similarities between the parties. There are 15 parties that display variations on ears of rice and cotton and nine on crescent moons and stars; six have a bull’s head and two the Ka’bah (holy shrine of Islam). Even if you are still trying to be upbeat at this stage, motivation may flag further when you see that it is not just the logos that are similar but also the names. Who really feels confident about knowing whom to vote for when there are three PNIs, two PDIs and a PND (represented by stern, angry, very angry and about-to-charge bull logos)?
The fragmentation is not limited to the political parties; it is symbolic of the state of the nation. Now that people are free to express themselves, grievances can be redressed and people are speaking in actions as well as words. Most familiar is the case of East Timor. After 23 years of bitter occupation and the death of a third of the population, the East Timorese may now get their independence. A referendum is scheduled for August, but the minority pro-integrationist supporters are going out of their way to destabilise and intimidate the populace in the hope of getting the referendum cancelled.
The current malaise afflicting Indonesia is the result of a loss of certainties: of what the state is; of what politicians can provide; of who the politicians are; and of who will be able to return Indonesia to the boom of the early 1990s. Until the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98 the quality of life for most Indonesians kept improving. Liberties were forcibly sacrificed for material gain. Cronyism was rampant and power corrupting, but the state appeared to get things done. Then the economy crashed, students were shot dead by the police, the president fell, the army dithered and the people, in no coherent manner, broke through.
Now there will be an election, and no one is sure what it will bring. The momentum that forced Suharto out of office must keep pushing reform, or the old ways will continue, albeit under new leaders. A positive sign is that many of the leading parties have signed an informal agreement, trying to ensure that parliament elects a reformist president later in the year. This pro-reform movement is a serious attempt to prevent anti-reform parties from regaining the upper hand – a distinct possibility when so many of the new parties are alleged to have strong links with the old regime and vested interests against wholesale investigations of previous misdemeanours, cronyism and nepotism. The reforms so urgently needed would strengthen the rights of individuals while finding a new balance for other organs of the state, including the presidency and the army. Without the promise of these changes, this election will become a millstone, rather than the milestone the Indonesian people deserve.
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