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May
2005
Published by Eye on Aceh
For further information, contact info@eyeonaceh.org
INTRODUCTION
In the early morning of Monday, 19 May 2003,
hundreds of military paratroopers were dropped
in the troubled Indonesian province of Aceh;
rockets were fired from the air, while planes
and boats brought thousands of troops into the
province.
It was the beginning of what was to be 12
months of military rule. The target of this
“shock therapy” was the Free Aceh Movement (GAM),
the separatist group fighting for Aceh’s right
to political independence from its giant
archipelagic master, Indonesia. However
frightening the sight of these paratroopers
dropping over villages in Aceh was, it could
not be compared with what was to follow for
the next twelve months: 40,000 Indonesian
troops would wage war on GAM and on its
civilian supporters. So began a new period in
Aceh’s bloody and violent history.
This short report gives a snapshot view of one
dark year in Aceh’s recent history, which has
been characterised by violent unrest as a
struggle for independence has wreaked havoc on
life, infrastructure and the local economy.
The year of darkness, when Aceh was all but
closed to the outside world, began on 19 May
2003 when the Indonesian government imposed
martial law in the province. The Indonesian
military - known for its brutality and
disregard for national and international law -
was given full administrative and security
control in Aceh.
The twelve month period of martial law (May
2003 – May 2004), was a time when local
nationalist sentiments grew even stronger as a
direct result of the increasing levels of
repression and control by the Indonesian
military. It was a time when, faced with no
available political alternative, the local
people, already traumatised from almost 30
years of violent conflict in which around
15,000 people (mostly civilians) had lost
their lives, formed stronger allegiance to the
armed separatist rebellion in the province.
Even before martial law, the mounting
repression and increasing accusations of
extrajudicial killings and arbitrary arrest by
agents of the central government in Jakarta
were causing widespread disaffection among the
people in Aceh.
But as is often the case in war, it was the
civilian population that suffered most during
martial law: thousands of innocent people were
killed, arrested and tortured, and many simply
‘disappeared’. Hundreds of schools were
destroyed, the health care system was
disrupted, and in many towns and villages, the
local economy almost completely collapsed.
Many restrictive policies were put in place as
the authorities sought to achieve their stated
aim of crushing the armed rebellion: a new
compulsory red and white identity card was
introduced; civil servants were tested to
assess their loyalty to the state; curfews
were imposed in several areas; press freedom
was restricted, and villagers were forced to
attend “loyalty ceremonies” in support of the
unity of the Republic of Indonesia.
Accusations by local people of ongoing human
rights abuses by the Indonesian military and
police increased. And the military’s proxy
armies, locally known as militia, began to
again wreak havoc in some areas of the
province. Although concrete data of such
incidents has proven difficult to find, it was
quite clear that in the prevailing environment
of impunity and arbitrariness, incidents of
human rights abuses did increase.
The implementation of martial law had
effectively sealed the borders of Aceh against
the prying eyes of the outside world; very
little news was available. Foreign citizens
were ordered to leave, and international media
and humanitarian aid organisations were
prohibited from entering.
The extent to which life in Aceh was a
compendium of violence, brutality, fear and
poverty remained largely hidden from the
outside world – until, that is, 26 December
2004, when an earthquake measuring 9 on the
Richter scale and subsequent tsunamis rocked
the province, causing a humanitarian disaster
of such proportions that it effectively blew
the door of Aceh wide open.
BACKGROUND
Located in the northwestern corner of
Indonesia, Aceh is the scene of Indonesia’s
most bloody continuing internal conflict and
poses the greatest challenge to the
territorial integrity of the state. For almost
three decades, GAM has led an increasingly
violent struggle against rule by central
government in Jakarta. The separatist movement
– supported by a significant percentage of the
local population – pursued an uncompromising
goal of political independence for the
province of 4 million people. What began as a
relatively small rebellion in 1976, when
Teungku Hasan di Tiro, together with several
hundred supporters, established GAM and
declared Aceh independent, has turned into a
protracted “small war.” Initially, the
conflict was fuelled by perceptions of
inequality of power, and injustice in relation
to the benefits from Aceh’s natural resources.
But later as the military, and to a lesser
extent the police, turned against the civilian
population with arbitrariness and brutality,
feelings of anger and revenge heightened
separatist sentiment.
In 1989, the Indonesian government declared
Aceh a special military zone (Daerah Operasi
Militer – DOM). The so-called DOM period was
to last for 10 years, until 1998. It was a
period characterised by unrestrained violence,
perpetrated by a military that was rarely, if
ever, required to be accountable for its
actions. It was with the lifting of DOM, as
news became available about the extent of
human rights abuses during the previous 10
years, that anti-Indonesian feelings became
more widespread. (1) In the same year (1998), the
dictatorship of former President Suharto
collapsed when he was forced to resign amid
protests over corruption. With the end of
Suharto’s centralised authoritarian system,
Indonesia entered a period of slow moving
reform (popularly referred to as reformasi).
As the political environment in Aceh became
somewhat less repressive, student and civil
society groups began to organise local
discontent into an increasingly vocal civil
society movement. At the same time, GAM was
able to train new recruits, attracted to the
movement seeking to avenge the atrocities
against family or friends, and the loss of
homes and livelihoods that the military and
militia had looted and burned, during DOM.
In early 2000, recognising the potentially
explosive situation in Aceh, then President
Abdurrahman Wahid initiated the first ever
dialogue between GAM and the Indonesian
government. After only a few months of talks,
on 12 May 2000, a Humanitarian Pause was
signed by the two warring parties. Signed for
an initial period of 3 months, this weak
ceasefire agreement received widespread
international support, from the US, EU and
other foreign governments; even the UN
endorsed it. The Humanitarian Pause was
extended, but its gradual disintegration led
to a period of increased tensions. In Aceh,
implementation by both GAM and the Indonesian
military was weak; around the negotiating
table, there remained irreconcilable
differences. Armed clashes continued,
jeopardising the entire negotiating process,
which was still in its infancy.
To make matters worse, the pro-peace President
Wahid was ousted via an impeachment process in
July 2001, and replaced by a new, more
nationalistic President, Megawati
Sukarnoputri. Megawati continued the embattled
process of searching for a common platform
with GAM that could pave the way for a
peaceful solution to the increasingly violent
dispute. But this process became more
problematic as the military sought to exploit
Megawati’s nationalistic priorities,
continually insisting that a military solution
was the only possible way to bring peace to
Aceh.
The peace process continued, and against all
odds, the internationally brokered Cessation
of Hostilities Agreement (CoHA) was signed in
December 2002, giving hope that peace would
indeed come to Aceh. Despite the presence of
an international monitoring team, increasing
violations of the agreement took place,
including armed clashes, attacks on the
international observers, and rallies for
independence. In addition, the military became
increasingly impatient as the ‘storing’ of GAM
weapons – a key component of the agreement –
was continually delayed. GAM was also accused
of exploiting the ceasefire to train new
members and bring more weapons into the
province, an accusation they vehemently
denied. .
As the agreement entered its sixth month,
impatience with the situation in Aceh, which
was becoming worse rather than better, became
more visible. In Jakarta, hard-line elements
within the government and security forces
reaffirmed their opposition to the CoHA. Chief
of commission I of the Indonesia parliament (DPR-RI)
Ibrahim Ambong said, “There is an indication
that through this dialogue GAM is manipulating
and shaming us. We must show GAM that we are a
strong country with dignity, we are monitoring
whether GAM still insists on independence. If
they don’t renounce this, a military operation
will be the best option.” (Suara Pembaruan, 24
April 2003) A few days later, former
coordinating Minister of Politics and Security
Affairs, Naval (retired) Sudomo said: “GAM
cannot continue to ask for independence. If
they do, we will attack them. There is no
other choice apart from to launch a military
operation. We should not delay any longer.” (Sinar
Harapan, 1 May 2003)
As such public statements became more common,
and more militant, behind the scenes pressure
on the President to allow the military to
pursue a security solution grew. Acutely aware
of the fate of her predecessor, the impeached
President Wahid, Megawati eventually submitted
to the power of the military. The government
issued an ultimatum to GAM: “Renounce the push
for independence or there will be no further
negotiations.” GAM refused; the only solution
for them was full independence. So, on 18 May
2003, the Indonesian government pronounced the
peace process ended and arrested five members
of the GAM negotiating team. The imposition of
martial law, initially for six months but then
extended to one year, took effect from
midnight that same day. So began Indonesia’s
largest military operation since the invasion
of East Timor in 1975. Around 40,000 troops
were deployed to the province. A cloud of fear
hung over Aceh: deaths and disappearances
increased, sexual assault against women become
even more commonplace, the economy all but
collapsed, hundreds of schools were destroyed,
and clinics attacked.
A PROFILE OF MARTIAL LAW IN ACEH
In simple terms, martial law can be described
as a period of high militarization and a time
when the civil bureaucracy is replaced by
bureaucrats in uniform. What did martial law
in Aceh look like, and what happened during
that year (May 2003 – May 2004) to cause such
increasing disaffection?
The legal basis for martial law in Aceh was
Presidential Decree No. 28 of 2003. The decree
gave overall control to the President, who was
assisted by a Central Military Emergency
Implementation Agency made up of government
ministers and several high ranking military
and police officers. The day-to day command of
the province was delegated to the Commander of
Aceh’s Iskandar Muda Military Region, assisted
by the provincial governor, the chief of
police and head of the judiciary. It was a
military General who was chief of the martial
law authority (Penguasa Darurat Militer Daerah
- PDMD).
Military personnel replaced civilian
bureaucrats in the designated “black” areas of
Aceh where violence was more intense and in
which the Indonesian authorities believed many
GAM soldiers were hiding. The then governor of
Aceh, Abdullah Puteh, deferred much of his own
power to the security forces, and also
appointed 13 new sub district chiefs from the
ranks of the army, navy and airforce in these
‘black’ areas. A one week ‘intensive’ course
in local government administration was the
only ‘qualification’ held by these bureaucrats
in uniform. Throughout the province, the stamp
of the military was highly visible, their
administration distrusted by a majority of the
people.
Martial law laid the foundations for what was
called the “Integrated Operation” (Operasi
Terpadu), consisting of four operational
elements: security; humanitarian; law
enforcement, and empowerment of local
government. Emphasis was placed on the
security component, which received most
resources and aimed to eliminate GAM in Aceh
through a strategy of both intelligence
gathering and firepower. Its reach also
extended beyond the borders of Aceh to Jakarta
and other areas of Indonesia, where many GAM
members fled and were later arrested. Second
was the humanitarian element, which received
most publicity as the government tried to
deflect criticism that the majority of
casualties of the security operation were in
fact, civilian. It included providing
displaced people with food and shelter,
rehabilitation of the education system,
transportation and other programs. The third
component was “law and order;” this involved
investigating and prosecuting members of GAM
and their supporters, and ensuring visa
restrictions on foreigners were not broken.
And finally, empowerment of local government
included the introduction of the new KTP,
loyalty tests for civil servants, and
encouraging loyalty to the state.
Six months later when martial law was
extended, the scope of the “Integrated
Operation” was also expanded to include an
economics component. But in reality, the
security element continued to be the
operational priority.
Increasing militarisation
With the
imposition of martial law, the creeping
militarization of Aceh that had been taking
place over the previous few years was
complete. The new military operation aimed to
separate GAM members from ordinary civilians,
and to destroy or neutralise GAM. To assist in
achieving these objectives, the Indonesia
National Army (TNI) significant troop
deployment was equipped with tanks, fighter
aircraft and helicopters, and better than
usual small arms and ammunition. To many
observers, it seemed a disproportionate use of
force to crush what the government estimated
to be 5,000 separatist fighters with 2,000
weapons.
The military strengthened its presence at the
village level in Aceh by establishing
temporary military posts. As the military
increased control over most aspects of daily
life in the province, localised restriction of
movement of people, goods, money and vehicles
became common in some areas. (See Box 1) The
martial law administration re-emphasised
previous categorisations of the province into
black, red, grey and white areas. Black areas
were where GAM was strongest and where violent
resistance to the state highest, and where GAM
training camps and barracks were believed to
be located in the mountains and jungles. Red
areas were those with medium level resistance
and where the majority of the people supported
GAM, but fewer were actually armed. Grey areas
were those where only occasional unrest took
place, and white areas were those where
loyalty to the unity of Indonesia was
greatest. It was in the black areas that
restrictions were toughest. Furthermore,
throughout Aceh, it became compulsory for men
to do night guard duty to assist in enforcing
these policies. The frequency of night duty
depended on the level of GAM activity in the
areas and the number of men in the village. In
effect, Acehnese men became reluctant
defenders of the state.
Box 1: The
martial law administration was given power
to:
Control all means of communication,
including radio and telephone; shut down
public and private facilities; prohibit
the distribution of goods within the
territory of martial law; carry out
surveillance by land, sea and air;
prohibit all forms of information,
including publications, public
announcements and visual material;
intercept and destroy private letters, as
well as prohibit the transfer of money
into the territory where martial law is in
force; control and ban all media
publications; remove, detain or prohibit
inhabitants from leaving the territory;
promulgate regulations as required; order
civilian inhabitants to assist in military
operations; detain persons for up to
twenty days without charge, whereas
arrests shall be reported after 14 days,
the period of detention may be extended to
fifty days, if necessary. |
A COSTLY WAR
As the financial cost of implementing such an
extensive operation over 12 months could not
be borne by the official defence budget, an
“extra-ordinary budgetary allowance” was made.
By the end of the 12 months, the government
declared that expenditure on the integrated
martial law operation had reached Rp 10.5
trillion (DPR Press Release, 20 May, 2004).
The security component of the operation
received the largest financial commitment: Rp
1.7 trillion for the first six months of
martial law, of which Rp 1.2 trillion was
allocated to the army, and Rp 500 billion to
the police. This included all operational
costs in the field, such as logistics,
ammunition, and mobilisation of weapons and
armaments. (Tempo, No.13, 26 May – 1 June
2003) In addition, in June 2003, the
government agreed to a request by the Minister
of Defence Matori Abdul Jalil for an
additional Rp 1.23 trillion, and also
allocated Rp800 million more to the police
(Liputan6, 24 June 2003). For the second
six-month period, the budget was slightly
smaller for the military, at Rp 1.5 trillion,
but had increased to Rp 534 billion for the
police (Tempointeraktif, 14 November 2003). In
total, the funds used for military and police
operation in one year were Rp 5.764 trillion,
and the remaining of Rp 4.736 trillion funded
the other components of the Integrated
Operation.
Widespread allegations that 20% of the budget
allocation for martial law in Aceh has been
“misused” have been almost ignored by
government officials. There has been no
publicly available audit of the actual amount
spent on the war in Aceh during the period,
nor of how the funds were spent. Moreover, it
appears there was not even an internal
government audit, fuelling suspicions among
many that the cost of the war was in fact much
higher than the Rp 10.5 trillion declared and
that leakage from the ‘war chest’ might have
been substantial.
IMPLEMENTING MARTIAL LAW
Members of GAM enjoyed the protection of local
people, enabling them to live as ordinary
civilians in the towns and villages under the
guise of farmers, fishermen, market traders,
or even school and university teachers,
doctors, nurses and government officials.
Aware of the level of GAM’s integration with
the villagers, the authorities made it a
priority during martial law to separate GAM
from the civilian population. Several policies
were implemented to achieve this goal: a new
red and white identity card would replace the
national one which was yellow in colour;
villagers were to be temporarily but forcibly
removed from their homes into camps; and civil
servants were given compulsory loyalty tests.
Separating GAM and civilians
Throughout Aceh, the government issued a new
identity card, the Kartu Tanda Penduduk Merah
Putih, or KTP. The new KTP, which is red and
white – the colour of the Indonesian flag - is
required by law. In introducing the new KTP in
Aceh, the government said it was reacting to
reports that GAM (many of whom had no ID
cards), were forcing civilians to surrender
their yellow KTPs to members of the movement
so that they could move around Aceh freely.
During martial law, the new-style KTP was an
attempt not only to separate GAM from
civilians, but to force loyalty, even if
false, to the state of Indonesia.. The
authorities believed that members of GAM would
not go through the process of applying for a
new red and white card for fear of being
caught. Anyone without a new KTP was suspected
of being a member of GAM, and therefore liable
to arrest or worse.
The process of obtaining a new ID card was in
itself designed to identify GAM members or
supporters. It involved visits first to the
head of the village, then to the chief of the
sub-district, then to the district police
chief, and finally to the sub-district
military command, the process is explained as
follows:
“First, I had to have a recommendation letter
from the head of my village by giving him my
old KTP. Next, I had to take that letter to
the head of sub-district who gave me a new KTP
and stamped it with his official signature;
after that I went to the police to have it
stamped again, and finally to the local
military headquarters to have the final
signature that made my KTP valid. In police
and military office, most people were
interrogated during this process: ‘Do any of
your relatives have any relation with GAM? Is
there any GAM in your village? Have you ever
helped GAM? Are any of your friends members of
GAM?’ We must be careful to answer in the
correct way, or there would be trouble.”
(Interview, Razali, Aceh Besar, 16 August
2004)
The new identity cards were officially free of
charge, but in reality, bureaucracy is rarely
free in Indonesia. Local government officials,
the military and police seized the opportunity
for profit by charging a “fee” to process the
new KTP. Many people complained about the cost
of the new cards; those who were unprepared or
unable to pay were made to wait for as long as
several weeks for their new ID, during which
time they were vulnerable to arrest.
A second method
used to distinguish GAM from the civilian
population was to relocate entire villages to
temporary camps. Anyone who refused such
forced displacement was accused of being a
member of the separatist movement. The
commander of regional martial law
administration (PDMD), Mayor General Endang
Suwarya said: “The separation between GAM and
civilians will be comprehensively conducted,
in order that civilians will not be easily
influenced by GAM. But this separation is
abstract and cannot be measured on the
percentage of successfulness; it can be seen
from the raising of enthusiasm to resist GAM
by local people.” (Waspada, 23 August 2003)
As early as one week before the imposition of
martial law, when the CoHA was still in place,
this strategy of corralling civilians was
already in the planning phase. The National
Co-ordinating Board for Disaster Management (Bakornas
PBP) revealed that it expected to remove
200,000 people to such camps in 5 high
priority districts in Aceh. (Bakornas PBP, 12
May 2003) Responding to criticism of the
policy, the commander of the PDMD, General
Suwarya, said the corralling of villagers into
camps was aimed to avoid civilian casualties
during military engagement in operations to
restore security. Suwarya added that vehicles
would be provided to transport the villagers
to the temporary displacement centres. (Kompas,
19 June 2004)
The third policy
was designed to test the loyalty of civil
servants. The Indonesian government had become
increasingly suspicious that civil servants in
Aceh were not conducting themselves in the
best interests of the unity of the state, and
that some might in fact be using their
position in local government to support the
separatist campaign. All 86,680 civil servants
in the province were given a loyalty test.
Each person was assigned one of the following
“loyalty classifications” by the Interior
Department: direct involvement with GAM, for
example membership of the separatist group;
indirect involvement, that is being a
supporter of or sympathetic to GAM; or none of
the previous two and therefore deemed loyal to
the unitary state of Indonesia. This screening
required every civil servant to file a
questionnaire prepared by the PDMD, Interior
Department, National Civil Servants Bureau,
and the provincial Governor. (Kompas, 17 June
2003)
Creating an information blackout
In the first month of martial law, the
authorities imposed what was essentially an
information blackout. Presidential Decree No
43/2003 created restrictions on national and
international news coverage of the situation
in Aceh. Introduced in June 2003, the decree,
on the Control of the Activities of Foreign
Citizens, Non-Governmental Organisations
(NGOs) and Journalists in the Province Of Aceh,
was designed to prohibit activities by
journalists, NGOs, and foreigners that might
compromise the military’s grip on the
province. Article 3 of the decree made it
clear that press freedom would not be
tolerated: it stipulated that foreign
correspondents and local journalists working
for international media must receive
permission from the office of the foreign
minister in Jakarta to work in Aceh.
Indonesian journalists were required to apply
to the martial law authorities in Aceh for
permission to conduct journalistic activities
in the province.
All journalistic activities in the province
came under the control of the martial law
authorities, whose mandate it was to censor
news before publication, As is so often the
case in times of war, the military intended to
use the media as its propaganda machine;
General Suwarya ordered: “I want all news
published to contain the spirit of
nationalism, put the interests of the unitary
state of Indonesia first, and do not give
voice to the news from GAM.” (www.lin.go.id,
21 May 2003) News that was incompatible with
the implementation of martial law and
statements or news that supported GAM or those
who opposed martial law were also prohibited.
A policy of embedding journalists with the
military was imposed, with all journalists who
joined the scheme obliged to complete a
survival training course given by the military
in Sangga Buana, Karawang, West Java. And when
in Aceh, where they went, who they spoke with,
and what they wrote was all controlled by the
military.
Restrictions on humanitarian assistance
The government itself predicted that martial
law would create a humanitarian crisis in some
areas of Aceh. People would flee from their
homes in fear as houses, schools and
workplaces were destroyed or damaged; clinics
would be abandoned. The war would exact a
heavy toll not only on life, but on property
and infrastructure. In anticipation of this
crisis, the integrated operation included a
humanitarian component. But in a somewhat
contradictory move, Presidential Decree No.
43/2003 also ensured that access to the
province by humanitarian workers and others
was blocked, thus preventing the distribution
of humanitarian assistance to a civilian
population that was quite clearly suffering
the ravages of war.
At the same time that this decree was
implemented, the humanitarian situation in
Aceh was worsening. Increasingly vocal pleas
that organisations be allowed to distribute
medical, food and other necessary assistance
resulted in a special visa system for Aceh,
implemented on 30 June 2003, to allow some
humanitarian assistance into the province. A
“blue book” had to be obtained in Jakarta
prior to travel to Aceh.
(2) But in reality, most
applications for the blue book were rejected.
The military’s unconventional role
The restrictive policies mentioned above were
implemented by an authority, the Indonesian
military, with a predisposition towards
excessive violence. The military’s power under
martial law seemed to know no bounds. Their
mandate was as wide as it was deep: their
administrative presence was felt in every
sub-district and village, and in every aspect
of economic, social and political life in Aceh.
Civil-military relations in the province took
a turn for the worse as the military’s newly
acquired powers were exercised with enthusiasm
and unnecessary heavy-handedness. Furthermore,
the boundaries between powers given to the
military under the martial law decree and
“extra-legal” activities undertaken in the
name of the state became increasingly porous.
Growing resentment and anger were exacerbated
by the security forces’ engagement in other
activities that lay outside their mandate to
“crush” GAM. Such activities brought even more
suffering to the local people.
Profit before peace
“Undermanned, under-equipped and
under-trained” is how second-time defence
minister Juwono Sudharsono described the
Indonesian military during his previous period
as defence minister. Under-funded by
successive governments, the military and
police have been allowed to pursue profit
throughout Indonesia via a network of business
interests spanning the entire spectrum of the
country’s economy. Military business in
Indonesia is justified in terms of subsidising
the inadequate defence and police budget. But
in reality, little profit from the military’s
business complex, which includes large, small
and medium enterprises, actually contributes
to the services’ operational and running
costs. Moreover, the military and police as
institutions and many of their members as
individuals are involved not only in the
informal economy, but in clearly illegal
activities such as gun running gambling and
prostitution rackets. In Aceh, such illegal
activities include illegal logging, the local
drugs economy, providing “additional” security
for large companies (including the American
oil giant Exxon Mobil), selling petrol),
illegal tolls and fees, and many other
activities. Aceh is a land rich in natural
resources; making it one of the most lucrative
postings for military and police personnel.
Some policies imposed under martial law gave
the security forces new opportunity for
profit, such as the introduction of the new
KTP. A school teacher from the Pidie area
explained the procedure:
“Of course, everyone must pay to get this new
ID card. Depending on a person’s
circumstances, they might have to pay more.
For example, if one of our family is suspected
of being a member of GAM, then our KTP will be
more expensive. The military in the village of
Delima, Pidie, accused my friend of helping
GAM because his brother is member of GAM. They
told him he would have to pay Rp.1 million for
his new KTP. No money – no KTP. That’s how it
is. My friend was afraid, so he paid.”
(Interview, Jakarta, 20 July 2004)
It is common practice in Aceh to buy one’s way
out of situations of arrest and interrogation.
During martial law, many more people were
detained for questioning, thus providing a
new, and very lucrative, cash cow for the
military:
“I am a chief of a village in Indrapuri
subdistrict in Aceh Besar. On 27 June 2003, my
secretary and I were summoned by the local TNI.
They told me one of the members of my village
was GAM, and asked why I did not report him as
GAM to the authorities. They beat me and my
secretary, and then allowed us to leave. They
told us to return three days later to pay some
money, or they would kill us. I was told to
pay Rp 25 million and my village secretary had
to pay Rp 6 million. Of course, I did not have
that money, so I sold my cows for Rp 6
million, and my village board allowed me to
use some of the fund that was given by the
government for village development aid (BANDES)
to pay the military. I borrowed the remainder
from relatives. Can you image how I feel? The
Indonesian security forces robbed me and my
family of all our money.” (Interview,
Indrapuri, 11 July 2004)
Many other illegal “business” opportunities
were available for the troops who were
deployed in Aceh; those who broke curfews were
“fined,” road tolls were payable, payments
were demanded to retrieve dead bodies or those
held for interrogation, and food, cigarettes
and even petrol were often demanded free of
charge from beleaguered businesses. There was
almost no limit to the list of profit-making
opportunities.
Militia
In keeping with common practice in other
conflict areas in Indonesia, the security
forces in Aceh mobilised groups of civilians
to assist in dealing with the armed
insurgency. Human rights groups and local
people have long protested the presence of
these groups, commonly referred to by the
authorities as ‘neighbourhood watch’ schemes.
The phenomenon of these groups in Aceh, known
locally as ‘militia’, is not specific to the
martial law period, but their presence did
become more visible during that time. The
military’s involvement in training and arming
these vigilantes in Aceh has long been
suspected. Eyewitness accounts of many of the
‘incidents’ that have taken place over the
years tell of groups of heavily armed men
causing mayhem and murdering civilians. Many
of the weapons carried by these unidentifiable
groups were marked as military issue.
Military spokesman Major General Sjafrie
Sjamsoeddin finally admitted that members of
the anti-separatist movements recruited from
villages in the province had indeed been given
basic training by soldiers. (The Jakarta Post,
21 May 2004) Furthermore, it has been alleged
that “some members of Aceh’s government
administration and local businesspeople are
also known to be involved [in militia groups],
giving financial support for training,
weapons, and logistics such food and housing.”
(See Fear in the Shadows: Militia in Aceh, Eye
on Aceh, July 2004)
The military used these groups to assist in
hunting for GAM in the jungle, and to conduct
sweeping operations to nearby villages,
resulting in even more chaos and fear for the
local people as previous friends and
neighbours turned cu’ak (informer), or joined
the militia, thus becoming the “enemy within.”
Most people involved with militia groups say
they were forced to join.
(4) Very few dared to
refuse a ‘request’ to join the militia: “If I
refuse to join the militia, the military will
say I am a member of GAM. Then I will be
tortured, my family might also suffer, and we
would have to leave the village like so many
of our neighbours in the past. To keep my
family safe, I betrayed my neighbours – I
joined the militia.” (Interview, July, 11
August 2003)
Some civil servants were also reportedly
forced to undergo military training. A
government civil servant in West Aceh
reported: “About 500 civil servants have been
given military training, introduced to assault
rifles such as M-16, AK-47, SS-1, and taught
how to shoot.” (Tempo, 1 February 2004) The
military in Aceh were building an army of
reluctant ‘home guards.’ A local coffee shop
owner in Bireun explained the result: “At
least we can identify the military and the
threat we face from them, but now we also face
another threat; it is of murder and terror
from an unknown enemy.” (Interview, Matang,
Bireun, 19 October 2003)
CIVILIANS AT RISK
Paying the price of martial law
The monopoly of power and violence held by the
security forces and their proxy armies exacted
a heavy toll on the people of Aceh. Dissent
was not tolerated; political activists and
human rights defenders were silenced;
arbitrary arrests, torture, extrajudicial
killings and disappearances became even more
commonplace. The civilian population was
subject to increasing social and economic
marginalisation. Aceh was a province where
freedom of movement, expression and
association was not tolerated in any measure,
and where, according to the security forces,
every person was a potential “enemy of the
state.”
Military data on casualties during martial law
report that 579 civilians were killed and 298
were injured, 123 of these “seriously.”
(Operation Information Team of Central
Information of Indonesian National Army –
Puspen TNI, 16 September 2004) But many
suspected the figures were in fact much
higher. A local NGO, Kontras Aceh, reported
that 744 civilians were killed during the 12
months and 244 illegally arrested. Attacks
against women increased: more than 100 women
alleged that they were raped by the military
or police, and many more suffered other forms
of sexual assault. Women suspected of being
members of the female wing of GAM, the Inong
Balee, report that they were forced to expose
their breasts to allow the military and police
to check for the crescent moon said to be
tattooed on the breast of female members.
The military itself was not without casualties
as they pursued their military campaign: 419
military soldiers were killed and 289 were
injured, and 24 TNI weapons were lost. (Puspen
TNI, 16 September 2004)
The Indonesian security forces were determined
to crush not only members of GAM, but also
their families and supporters. As martial law
progressed, members of GAM families -
including women and children - were
increasingly the focus of intimidation,
harassment and even worse. In many areas
across the province, houses belonging to those
who were believed to be supporters of GAM were
often marked with a red X. Once a house was
marked in this way, friends and other family
members no longer visited, fearing trouble
from the military and police if they were seen
with someone suspected of being a “friend” of
GAM. A villager whose house and family
business were marked with an X said his
business was close to collapse: “Many of my
customers shop elsewhere now; they are afraid
to come here. That X marked the beginning of
the end of my business.” (Interview,
Lhokseumawe, 4 February, 2004)
The suffering of the civilian population
during martial law is found not only in the
numbers dead, tortured, raped and arbitrarily
arrested, but in the tens of thousands of
displaced people who fled or were chased from
their homes; whose houses or villages were
damaged or burned to the ground; who lived in
overcrowded, unsanitary and unhealthy
conditions; whose sick (including elderly and
children) could not get medical care, either
because they were too afraid to make the
journey to the local doctor, or because the
clinic had been destroyed or those who worked
there killed or arrested. Moreover, tens of
thousands of people lived in grinding poverty,
trying to eke out a meagre living in an
economy destroyed by war. For several years
before martial law, a humanitarian crisis had
been simmering just beneath the surface of
Aceh’s broken society. The human cost of the
implementation of martial law was simply an
extension of the situation that prevailed at
that time, and had a devastating impact on
Aceh’s fragile economic and social
infrastructure.
Displaced peoples
The people of Aceh were on the move: women and
children, sometimes with brothers, fathers, or
husbands; sometimes alone. In the first two
weeks of martial law, government data showed
25,000 internally displaced people (IDPs),
many women and children, living in camps in
nine areas of Aceh. (Analisa Daily, 4 June
2003) One year later, an estimated 125,000
people had fled their homes because of the
fighting, or had been relocated (displaced) by
the policy of emptying villages to search for
GAM. (Jesuit Refugee Services, 17 April 2004)
Many fled because the authorities suspected
them of having links with GAM. Reports from
some areas tell of wives and children, elderly
and sick relatives of GAM being forced to
leave their villages by the military and
police; most had nowhere else to go.
Many of these IDPs returned to find their
houses ransacked and burned, allegedly by
military-backed militia who sometimes enlisted
the help of local people. “Yes, I am ashamed
to admit that I did burn my neighbour’s
house,” said one man. “But if I refused, the
military and militia would accuse me of being
too close to GAM, and that would bring trouble
on my family.” (Interview, Lhokseumawe, 29
July, 2004)
Military intelligence in Aceh relies on
information from cu’ak (informers). Anyone, at
any time, could be accused of being GAM, which
might result in interrogation, arrest, torture
or death; people became distrustful of friends
and neighbours, as illustrated by this
example:
“That night, the troops of TNI came to our
house, they said a neighbour told them that my
brother was a member of GAM, and arrested him.
I pleaded with them not to take my brother
away, that he was not a member of GAM. But
they didn’t listen. My whole family was so
depressed, but we could do nothing. One day
later, his body was found tied to a palm tree,
his mouth was tied shut, and his throat had
been cut. His body showed evidence of torture.
He was not GAM, he worked at the local palm
oil plantation – that’s all.” (Interview,
North Aceh, 17 June 2003)
The military forced thousand of villagers to
move from their homes and into camps as part
of the search for GAM; guarantees were given
that property and livestock would be
protected, and that when people returned home,
everything would be as they left it. Such
promises proved empty: people returned to find
homes had been looted and crops destroyed and
animals were missing. One villager told of his
experience:
“In July members of TNI came to the village
and told everyone we had to leave to go to a
camp not far from here. In the second week of
September we were allowed home. But when I got
to my house, everything had been taken. All
that was left were some clothes and cooking
pans. Everything else, my TV, my glass
cabinet, spring bed, and some special family
things and jewelry had all been taken. My
neighbours all found the same. We tried to
complain but the police and military told us
that gangs of thieves were roaming and that
the military was too busy chasing GAM to worry
about anything else. Now I have almost
nothing, but I thank god my family is safe and
that my house is not burned.” (Interview,
Bireun, 10 November 2003)
The camps suffered from a general shortage of
food, drinking water and basic health care;
substandard tents often left people exposed to
wind, rain and the heat. A media report from
the first weeks of martial law tell of the
situation in one such camp “The IDPs are not
only facing fear and insecurity, they also
face skin, respiratory and other health
problems. So far, the government has not yet
delivered food, they can only rely on food
that they carried when they were displaced.
Inadequate clean water has caused an epidemic
of diarrhea.” (Liputan 6 SCTV, 27 May 2003) In
a weak gesture at alleviating some of the
suffering of these people, the government
promised to provide food, medical treatment
and basic health care to the IDP camps, but in
reality, living conditions continued to be
severe.
The number of people displaced was certainly
much higher than the estimated 125,000; many
IDPs, afraid of being more vulnerable to
arrest or worse in camps, simply lived with
relatives or friends, or fled to the jungle
and the mountains where they lived in
makeshift camps. Some even went to Jakarta or
elsewhere in Indonesia, and many to fled to
neighbouring Malaysia.
Targeting Women
As is common in areas of conflict, women in
Aceh have been viewed as “soft targets,” and
used as a tool of war. Women have not escaped
unlawful killing, torture of arbitrary arrest.
There is a long history in the province of
rape and violent sexual assault against women
by the security forces. Many men, afraid of
being targeted by the military and militia,
have fled from the villages, leaving the women
more vulnerable to intimidation and
harassment. In some villages, a majority of
households are now headed by women who have
become the family and community protector and
provider. There are also a disproportionately
high number of women and children in many of
the IDP camps. Many of the men never return,
leaving the women alone and in a state of
perpetual uncertainty, more vulnerable and
usually more impoverished as they struggle to
fulfill multiple roles.
During martial law, physical attacks against
women increased. It was not uncommon for women
to be interrogated and beaten in an attempt to
extract information about male relatives
suspected of being GAM; children often
witnessed the arrest, interrogation and even
rape of their female relatives. A local
journalist tells how the frequency of
harassment of GAM family members has
increased:
“Since the beginning of martial law, I have
noticed an increase in targeting of female
relatives of GAM. There was a typical case in
late September 2003, involving the wives of
several GAM members. Erlinawati Zainun, the
wife of GAM commander in Greater Aceh,
disappeared with her three children aged six,
three, and one years old. At the same time,
the sister-in-law of another of GAM commander,
Apriyani, 25, and her children (Surya, 5, and
Diana, 2) were also taken. Only one week
later, another wife of GAM, Fithri Wahab, was
taken by the military for interrogation
together with her two year-old child. They
were all later released, unharmed but
traumatised from their ordeal.” (Interview,
Banda Aceh, 23 December 2004)
Women thought to be related to members or
sympathisers of GAM have been shown no mercy
by the security forces. This story is told by
Mariani’s relative:
“In December 2003, 12 marine troops stationed
at a temporary post at the local elementary
school at the village of Cot Setui Beuregang
in North Aceh conducted a night patrol. They
went to the neighbouring village of Meule
where they approached a house belonging to
Mariani. The troops asked her to open the door
as they wanted to search for weapons and a GAM
flag. The troops asked Mariani whether her
husband - who was not at home at that time -
was a member of GAM. She said no, but the
troops did not believe her. They interrogated
her for several minutes. Finally, the
commander raped her in front of her 14 year
old daughter and her baby (8 months).”
(Interview, Kuala Lumpur, 15 September 2004)
But it was not only those thought to be
relatives of GAM who suffered, as explained by
a local lawyer:
“A woman whose name I cannot reveal to you was
moved from one military post to another. At
each post she was interrogated and tortured.
She returned to her village after almost two
months to find her house had been burned;
neighbours told her the military were
responsible. Her mother had moved to another
village. Convinced that she was already dead,
her mother and other family members had
already commemorated the traditional ceremony
to mark 40 days since a person’s death.”
(Interview, Banda Aceh, 18 August, 2004)
One month after the beginning of martial law
(June 2003), four women alleged they were
raped by the military in a village in North
Aceh. The case received widespread publicity,
and even shamed the military into an apology.
PDMD’s commander Major General Endang Suwarya
said: “To the victims and their families, I
personally and on behalf of the institution
apologise for the conduct of the soldiers of
the Indonesian military.” (Antara, 1 July
2003)
On 19 July 2003, a military court found three
soldiers guilty of raping the four women in
North Aceh and sentenced them to 2.6 to 3.6
years imprisonment. Similar other cases also
resulted in short sentences for the military
officers involved. Despite isolated cases
being taken to court, incidents of violence
against women continue to be reported.
In response to increasingly vocal and public
accusations of misconduct by security forces
during martial law, the commander in chief of
the TNI, General Endriartono Sutarto, admitted
that some ‘rogue’ elements of the military did
indeed behave outside their legal mandate. In
a rare attempt at transparency, military
headquarters issued a statement admitting that
511 cases of criminal acts by military members
during martial law in Aceh had been
investigated, 429 cases have been processed
and 82 cases have been brought to trial. Of
those taken to trial, 57 members of the TNI
have been sentenced to between three months
and three years in prison; three members of
TNI were dismissed from the military. (Puspen
TNI, 5 May 2004)
A ‘BROKEN’ PROVINCE
The local economy in ruins
The local economy in Aceh, already broken by
many years of conflict, was devastated even
further during martial law. The cost of basic
commodities increased as local production
halted in many parts of the province: the
grassroots economy collapsed as farmers and
fishermen were too afraid to go to work, and
local market places closed. To make matters
worse, the flow of goods from neighbouring
North Sumatra was disrupted.
According to the latest government census of
2003, the number of people living below the
poverty line in Aceh was 1,601,000, or 39.7%
of the population (Aceh Statistic Bureau, BPS
Aceh, October 2003). After one year of martial
law, the Aceh office of the National Family
Planning Bureau, (Badan Koordinasi Keluarga
Berencana Nasional, BKKBN) reported that
53.53% of families in Aceh were living below
the poverty line. (Serambi Indonesia, 30
September 2004)
Food Insecurity
Out of a workforce of 2,254,155 in Aceh, 48%
of these rely on a local farming and fishing
industry that is not yet fully commercialized.
An estimated 60,000 traditional fishermen use
small boats to maintain a subsistence
livelihood. Working in remote areas, the
farming and fishing communities in Aceh have
been especially vulnerable to intimidation,
kidnapping, or worse. Looting of their produce
by the security forces – and some have also
alleged, by GAM – is not uncommon. In many
rural areas, villagers are afraid to work in
their farms for fear of being caught up in
armed contact between the military and GAM, or
of being accused as a member or supporter of
the movement. A villager in the Pidie area
explained the situation:
“When martial law began, I left my farm
because I was afraid to get stuck in the
battle between TNI and GAM. I grow cocoa,
chili and soya. These crops are now ready to
be harvested, but I am afraid to go to my farm
as military often conduct sweeps of that area.
I heard that some other farmers were beaten
because they were accused of being members of
GAM. So now I have to work at something else
in order to provide food for my family. I
worked to build my farm for the past three
years, but now I cannot do anything with it.”
(Interview, Trienggadeng, 25 September 2003)
During the decades of conflict in Aceh,
hundreds of farmers have been killed as they
tended their crops. Many of the killings take
place on farms in remote areas; bodies are
often found some time later bearing marks of
torture and terrible injuries:
“My father is too old to tend the farm but he
came with my brother and me that day. We had
not been to the fields for more than two
weeks, so we had too much work to do. My
father said he would come to help ‘in spirit’
only, but in fact when we arrived at the
fields he suddenly became like a young man
again. After several hours working in the
fields, a military truck arrived, six soldiers
got out and said they had come for my brother,
who they said had been giving food to GAM. I
know it wasn’t true as my family had very
little food; we had none to give away. My
father and I protested, but they led my
brother away. It was then that my father went
after the military to plead for my brother.
When his pleas did nothing, he kicked one of
the soldiers. The soldier let my brother’s arm
drop, raised his gun and shot my father in the
face. I feel guilty – I should have gone to
defend my brother and my father would still be
alive. I feel angry that they shot my father
for nothing. And I feel despair that I have
not seen my brother since; perhaps he is dead
too.’ (Interview, Kuala Lumpur, 14 August
2003)
In many areas fishermen were prevented from
working. In East Aceh, a fisherman explained:
“We are banned from going to the sea at night
to fish, so we have to go during the day from
morning to afternoon. If we do not go back by
afternoon, the troops will ‘search’ us and
cause trouble for our families. We don’t want
to take the risk of our wives and children
being intimidated or worse, so better we don’t
go to sea. And in the daytime, there are not
so many fish to be caught. We also have to
report to the military posts before we go
fishing, to sign their book and sometimes we
are asked to leave our identity card in the
post. When we return from the sea, we must pay
to get our ID cards back.” (Interview, Aceh
Tamiang, 27 September 2003)
Farmers were subject to similar harassment;
those who did continue to work in the fields
were often forced to sell their produce at
below market value to middlemen appointed by
the military. The reason given was to prevent
food supplies reaching GAM or their families,
but in reality, this localised policy only
served to provide cheap food to the security
forces and their proxies.
“In my area of Simpang Kramat in North Aceh,
the local military has banned the villagers
from going to their farms, which are mostly in
mountain areas. The military suspected the
farmers were supplying food to GAM; so they
stopped them farming.” (Interview, Simpang
Keramat, 23 July 2003)
In the first few weeks of martial law,
supplies of food and fuel were brought from
North Sumatra by road. But distribution was
disrupted when trucks stopped plying the main
Medan-to-Banda Aceh route due to the threat of
attack by unknown parties. And many truck
drivers feared getting caught up in an armed
clash between TNI and GAM. In addition, there
were many more checkpoints on the roads as the
military searched for members of GAM and for
weapons. Illegal tolls had to be paid to the
security forces on the main roads in Aceh, as
much as Rp 1 million to 1.5 million per
journey, which was then added to the price of
the goods (Suara Pembaruan, 1 August, 2003).
Infrastructure
During one year of martial law, schools,
health care facilities, local government
buildings, public transport and other social
and financial infrastructure, already damaged
by so many years of war, came to a complete
standstill in some areas.
Education
The education system suffered a devastating
blow; in the first month of martial law, 505
schools were burned, most of them completely
destroyed. (Kontras Aceh, monthly report, June
2003) By the end of martial law, 611 schools
had been attacked, and equipment and text
books for tens of thousands of students
destroyed.
As with many incidents in Aceh, it is unclear
who burned the schools; both GAM and the
Indonesian military blamed each other for the
arson. The consequences of such destruction on
the education system was severe: the Bureau of
Justice and Human Rights in Aceh reported that
after one year martial law, 54,000 children
had dropped out of school because of
conflict-related conditions, such as the
destruction of physical infrastructure, death
of teachers and other staff, and many children
and teachers simply did not want to take the
journey to school for fear of attack.
Moreover, many children, displaced to
military-run camps, were not given education
as previously promised by the authorities.
After only one month of martial law (June
2003), the government had already announced
that a programme of rebuilding the schools was
underway. However, a survey conducted by the
local anti-corruption group SORAK (People’s
Solidarity Movement Against Corruption)
reported that no reconstruction of school
buildings had taken place. (The Age, 21
November 2003)
Health care
Despite the fact that the ratio of doctors and
nurses in Aceh before martial law was higher
than the national average, implementation of
primary health care such as child immunization
and antenatal care was poor.
(5) While in the
major towns of Aceh the health care system
remained relatively unaffected by martial law,
the already poor access to health care in the
remote areas, and at the sub district and
village level was affected by security
concerns on the part of both staff and
patients who were too afraid to travel to the
health centres.
To compensate for this, and in preparation for
the expected surge in displaced peoples during
martial law, the Indonesian Health Ministry
announced it would send 740 additional doctors
and 5,000 nurses to the province. (Antara, 23
May 2003) To facilitate this, Rp 28 billion
was allocated by central government to several
hospitals in Aceh to provide health care to
IDPs. (Media Indonesia, 28 May 2003)
Housing
Hundreds of houses were also destroyed by
arsonists during martial law. Eyewitnesses
report that it was common for the military to
burn houses as they conducted search
operations for GAM. A villager told Kontras:
“On 17 January 2004, the Brimob conducted a
sweep in a village in Pidie. They were looking
for a member of GAM and went to his house. He
was not there, but they burned his house and
24 others in the same village.” (Kontras data,
January–June 2004) The burnings also
reportedly happened after the military and GAM
had been engaged in armed contact, with the
military coming to villages to seek revenge
for losses incurred.
Shops, markets, and other business were all
targeted by the TNI and “unknown”
protagonists. The situation in Aceh spiraled
out of control, with burnings, lootings,
killings and abductions a daily occurrence in
many places.
The supply of electricity – often sporadic –
was cut in some places as pylons and power
lines were sabotaged by unknown groups.
Outside the main town of Banda Aceh, telephone
services were also intermittent, exacerbating
the isolation of these areas.
Who was responsible for such destruction of
the social and economic fabric of Aceh’s
society? With both the Indonesian military and
GAM blaming each other, it was often difficult
to ascertain with certainty who was
perpetrating such acts. Eyewitness accounts
given by local people indicate that the
Indonesian military, the paramilitary police
brigade (Brimob), and militia proxies were
responsible for most of the destruction.
Acehnese Civil Society under Fire
Even before martial law, lack of freedom of
expression and association was a fact of
everyday life in Aceh. Those who dared to
criticise the president or the government had
always been treated harshly: many were
imprisoned, others simply disappeared, and
many corpses were found, sometimes bearing the
marks of torture. In the first few days of
martial law, a warning was issued by Major
General Endang Suwarya: members of any NGO
thought to be supporting separatist activities
would be arrested. (6)
Since martial law was imposed, several local
NGOs and civil society organizations have been
listed as illegal, and their members
threatened with arrest. Many organizations
have ceased operating, key individuals have
gone into hiding or fled overseas or to other
provinces. Organizations that wanted to
continue operating were obliged to work under,
and report to, the military administration.
The director of a local humanitarian
organisation working in IDPs camp in Aceh
said:
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