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Jan-Mar 2005
Those who support the Acehnese should not
support GAM
Kirsten E Schulze
Since the 1999 referendum in East Timor and subsequent
independence of that territory, many in the
international community have shifted their focus to
Aceh. However, well-founded sympathy with the plight
of the Acehnese has often gone hand in hand with less
well-founded support for the Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan
Aceh Merdeka, GAM). This support for the insurgent
movement has often been based on a simplistic equation
of Aceh with East Timor.
GAM is idealised, romanticised and hailed as the
underdog. Rejection of Jakarta’s policies and loathing
of the behaviour of its security forces has sometimes
translated into an identification with GAM. It’s as if
there is no choice but to support either Jakarta or
GAM.
Aceh is not East Timor. GAM is not a romantic group of
freedom fighters guided by noble principles and
gallant actions. And supporting GAM is certainly not
the only option if one disagrees with Jakarta,
dislikes the Indonesian military, or even if one
believes Aceh should be independent.
Let’s be clear: supporting GAM means supporting or at
least condoning GAM’s actions. These actions include
the kidnapping and killing of civilians and the
burning of schools, local government offices and
health centres, as well as a campaign of ethnic
cleansing waged against Javanese migrants.
Not East Timor
There are significant reasons why the case of Aceh
should not be seen in the same light as the struggle
for East Timorese independence. East Timor was taken
by force in 1975, some 30 years after the
establishment of the Republic of Indonesia. It was
first invaded, then incorporated and kept under
control by more force. Few states recognised East
Timor as a legitimate part of Indonesia.
Aceh, in comparison, was at the forefront of
Indonesia’s struggle for independence from the Dutch
in 1945-49. Aceh was an integral part of the new
Indonesian Republic from the start, willingly and
enthusiastically.
It was only later that Aceh became disillusioned,
giving rise first to the Darul Islam (Abode of Islam)
rebellion in 1953 and then the GAM insurgency in 1976.
The histories and legal statuses of Aceh and East
Timor are fundamentally different, as are the causes
of conflict. To equate them is not just ahistorical,
it is simply wrong.
National liberation movements are often seen in highly
idealistic and romantic terms, particularly in
societies where politics has become mundane and
uninspiring. In the case of Aceh, such views fly in
the face of reality. GAM’s ideology is parochial,
intolerant and ethnically exclusive. Its actions are
undemocratic, discriminatory, and in violation of
international humanitarian law.
Most notably, GAM has not respected the rights of
non-combatants. During the period of martial law in
2003-2004 GAM was responsible for some 300
kidnappings. The hostages were not members of the
Indonesian security forces but civilians — civil
servants, teachers, businessmen, journalists, and
wives of security forces members.
During this period GAM also confiscated Acehnese
identity cards to provide its own members with freedom
of movement while placing the Acehnese who ‘lost’
those cards at risk. GAM hid among the population,
turning them willingly or unwillingly into humaý
shields. GAM uses children to run errands or as spies.
And GAM has resorted to indiscriminate bombings within
Aceh such as the 17 August 2002 Indonesian
Independence Day bombings in which several school
children were seriously wounded. All these actions
constitute human rights violations.
One of the saddest aspects of GAM’s insurgency has
been the movement’s attacks on the education system.
In an effort to loosen Indonesia’s grip over Aceh, GAM
has attacked the state’s infrastructure — local
government offices, health centres, and schools. In
May 2003 alone some 600 schools were torched. Not only
is targeting civilian buildings against international
law, GAM’s actions are effectively targeting children.
The burning of schools and the intimidation and
shooting of teachers, often in front of the eyes of
their pupils, has set back education in Aceh by at
least a generation. It has traumatised children and
teachers alike.
Javanese victims
One reprehensible aspect of GAM is its treatment of
Javanese migrants in Aceh. Javanese have been
migrating to Aceh since the colonial period when they
worked on Dutch coffee plantations in the Gayo
mountains. More Javanese came with the discovery of
the Arun natural gas field and industrialisation in
the 1970s. Others were part of Suharto’s official
transmigration program. They were families searching
for a piece of land on which to create a better life
for their children.
Since 1999, GAM has terrorised some 120,000 Javanese —
men, women and children — into leaving Aceh. They have
been threatened, robbed, and in many cases literally
burnt out of their homes.
GAM justifies its actions by stating that these
Javanese are neo-colonial settlers who have taken land
from the Acehnese, that they are potential army
collaborators, and that they receive preferential
treatment from the Indonesian authorities.
Yet GAM makes no effort
to differentiate between Suharto-era transmigrants who
received land and fifth generation migrants who have
long intermarried with the local population. Neither
has GAM differentiated between Javanese who have
joined self-defence militias — and thus qualify as
combatants — and those who haven’t. Under the surface
of GAM’s anti-colonial ideology lies ethnic hatred.
GAM’s actions against the Javanese are no less than
ethnic cleansing to ‘purify’ Aceh.
Ethnic exclusivity, however, is not the only form of
intolerance practised by GAM. The organisation has
intimidated civil society organisations that disagree
either with its ideology or its methods, as well as
journalists whom it accuses of being biased in their
reporting. GAM has threatened and killed politicians
who supported Jakarta or promoted autonomy and
teachers who taught the wrong kind of history, namely
that Aceh is an integral part of Indonesia.
Internal dissent has been dealt with equally brutally.
After GAM leader Hasan di Tiro fell ill, factionalism
within the exiled GAM leadership came into the open.
In 2000, the secretary-general of a GAM splinter group
was killed. In 2001 GAM brutally put down a combined
popular uprising and internal challenge in South Aceh.
According to witnesses whom I have interviewed, GAM
imprisoned its opponents in cages and tortured them.
One man is said to have been dismembered by a chain
saw while others were forced to watch. Several mass
graves still hold the remains of GAM’s victims in the
area of Manggamat.
GAM claims it wants to establish a democracy in a
future independent Aceh. Their behaviour on the
ground, however, places these claims in a dubious
light. So does GAM’s history and its leadership. Until
recently GAM was openly feudalistic, aiming to
reinstate the sultanate of Aceh. Only in 2002 was this
aim changed. Yet GAM remains fundamentally
undemocratic.
Its core leadership in exile is self-appointed and has
not changed since 1976. Its military commanders in
Aceh are selected by the same leaders in exile. Major
decisions, too, are made from abroad with no popular
input from, or accountability to, the average Acehnese.
Women, who in Aceh outnumber men and are often held up
as heroines, are completely absent from leadership
positions. There are no internal elections like those
conducted by the Palestinian Liberation Organisation
when it was in exile.
GAM claims it represents the people of Aceh but has
yet to prove this claim. It would be wrong to
translate popular disappointment with Jakarta in Aceh
into support for GAM. Even Acehnese who support
independence don’t necessarily support GAM. What the
people of Aceh want above everything is an end to
violence, including that perpetrated by GAM.
Simplistic equations
Disliking Jakarta’s policies in Aceh or the behaviour
of the Indonesian security forces does not mean one
has to support GAM. Similarly, believing that Aceh
should be independent does not mean one has to support
GAM.
For members of the international community, who are
not themselves trapped in the violence in Aceh, there
are other options. Not exercising those options only
reinforces the conflict’s zero-sum dynamic. It also
closes off the possibility of helping to open a
moderate middle ground, based in civil society.
Opening up a middle ground, however, means also
criticising GAM and putting pressure on it to change
its treatment of non-combatants.
It is often argued that it is the Indonesian security
forces who commit most human rights abuses in Aceh and
that it is here that international pressure should
therefore focus. Surely this is not a question of
numbers but of principle? It shouldn’t matter who the
perpetrator is. A Javanese family burnt out of their
home is no less traumatised than an Acehnese one. A
wife whose husband was killed by GAM suffers no less
than a wife whose husband was killed by the Indonesian
security forces.
National liberation
movements and militaries alike should be subject to
the same rules of engagement and the same humanitarian
laws. It cannot be the case that the killing of
civilians by the military is condemned as a human
rights abuse while the killing of civilians by a
national liberation movement is condoned as a
necessary evil.
Turning a blind eye to GAM abuses does not help the
people of Aceh. The idea of ‘deferring’ criticism of
GAM until after Acehnese independence is equally
misguided. Undemocratic liberation movements seldom
produce democratic states.

Kirsten E Schulze (K.E.Schulze@lse.ac.uk)
is senior lecturer in International History at the
London School of Economics. She is the author of Che
Free Aceh Movement (GAM): Anatomy of a Separatist
organization.
(http://www.eastwestcenter.org/stored/pdfs/PS002.pdf). |