Features

April 9, 2008

Galuh Wandita | The Price of Denial

 

Galuh Wandita has a long history of working with human rights organizations in Indonesia and Timor-Leste, where she developed expertise on gender and justice. In 2002 she became deputy director of the UN-backed Timorese Truth and Reconciliation Commission (CAVR) and was instrumental in writing the Commission's Final Report. Since early 2007 she has been the head of the ICTJ's Jakarta office, where she manages our work in Indonesia and Timor-Leste. Wandita sat down to talk with us during a recent visit to our New York office.

Question: Indonesia has a fairly vibrant human rights movement, yet it seems stifled on many fronts. Is this attributable to a general climate of fear or other factors?

Answer: I wouldn't call it a climate of fear because people who work on justice issues in Indonesia are forced to be fearless-it is the only way to accomplish anything. But as we saw in 2004 with the assassination of Munir-one of our most prominent human rights activists-the threat is real. But I think "climate of impunity" is a better way to describe the atmosphere we work in. Even though we have mechanisms like the Human Rights Court and a National Human Rights Commission, these
have not only failed to deliver hard justice, they also haven't adequately pursued truth-seeking
and reparations for victims.

Q: Is there hope that these institutions are actually legitimate and functional but can't yet follow through on their own agendas?

A: They're not farcical, but their inefficacies reflect a broader lack of political will to challenge impunity, evident all around. For example, we have people who were indicted for serious crimes in 1999 still serving in the military or posted to Papua. A member of the Special Forces, convicted of kidnapping student activists in 1998, has since popped up in Aceh as a district commander of the military. In terms of the security forces, there has been very little reform and it remains a very strong institution.

Suharto's New Order regime was an all-pervasive force that not only corrupted everything but also militarized our society, so many of the changes we seek will be generational. In other words, while we have some of the important legal structures in place, both the institutional and political culture continue to support impunity, perpetuating a reality that silences the victims. Still, we push on, even though it might take a long time to see real change.

Q: Is there a tangible transition away from the violence and repression that characterized the Suharto era?

A: Much of it is a matter of scale: The abuses of the past were massive-a million killed and another million incarcerated in 1965, waves of mass atrocities committed in East Timor, Aceh, and Papua over several decades. To some extent-in Papua, for example-the situation hasn't changed
so much as it has lessened in scale, but some positive changes have occurred. The government recently passed a law introducing a four-year window period that outlaws the military from running its own businesses, which is a big plus, and there is a movement trying to get the military under civilian oversight. Aceh is actually an interesting case of nature catalyzing political transition, because if there hadn't been a tsunami there, we wouldn't be talking about a genuine peace process today.

Q: How did that catalyze a peace process?

A: 200,000 people died, and because the Indonesian government didn't have the capacity to deal with the tsunami and the international community needed help facilitating aid to the region, the government had to ensure security, which could only be done by forging a peace agreement with the Free Aceh Movement. But remember, it wasn't an instant process either. The tsunami hit in December 2004 and the peace agreement was signed in August 2005. It was also the third such attempt at peace since 1999, so there was some political precedent for finally making this work.

Q: Why have Aceh, Papua, and Timor been such targets for military mobilization and repression?

A: I think it's primarily due to the presence of eparatist movements in each of these areas. There is a strong ideology of unification in Indonesia. As schoolchildren we learn that Suharto saved the nation in 1965 and that in 1975 East Timor became part of Indonesia. We are taught a clean version of history which constantly reinforces that we are one unified entity and that anybody who seeks to split off is a traitor to the nation, deserving punishment. The military has designated local separatist movements as "threats to security," which entitles it far greater leeway in suppressing them. Although natural resources play a part in some of these movements- particularly in Papua-in most places it is really more of a tension between local and national identity.

Q: In your work with the CAVR, you worked closely with the community reconciliation process. Do you have an opinion on using these so-called "traditional" methods elsewhere, such as Northern Uganda, where it has been recommended they employ the ritual of mato oput to reconcile the LRA with their victims? Do you think it is ever appropriate to use these methods for serious crimes?

A: I agree with the prevailing mantra that there should not be any amnesty for serious crimes, but sometimes contexts are too complex to leave it at that. One of the problems with justice is that it is easy to conjure up solutions in books and articles, but much more complicated to actually repair social fabric after mass atrocity. In Rwanda, for example, they had tens of thousands in prison without charge, which in itself is a human rights violation that the international tribunal just could not address. I respect the approach adopted by Sierra Leone, where a system rationalized which crimes should go to the international hybrid tribunal, which tonational courts, and which to be handled by the truth commission. In my view, their criteria captured exactly what crimes should never be eligible for amnesty. But then there are gray areas. Following decades of conflict, countless murders and rapes, and a flawed judiciary, you have to be creative about a solution, which makes the Rwandan Gacaca experience fascinating. It's a brave example of trying to deal with a massive societal problem. At the CAVR we assumed that the serious crimes unit would deal with murderers and rapists; that Jakarta would attend to the generals; and that the CAVR could just deal with the people who burnt houses or committed other lesser crimes. That is not to say that we took these crimes lightly. In Timor nobody has a bank account or insurance, so if your house is burnt your life is destroyed and you literally start from zero. So it is not a small loss by any means. But we still had to find a way to repair some of the bonds that had been broken without relying on a more formal legal process.

Q: You've mentioned the need for reparations in Indonesia and that some payouts are occurring. Is this done through an opaque system where some people have been given sums without explanation, or is there a movement toward a fair or transparent process?

A: The concept of reparations is completely new to Indonesia. The payment of compensation to victims in Aceh, which started in 1998, was essentially hush money. It was a form of recognition that harm had been done, but it was not a process where you could then find out who killed your husband or why-there was simply a sum of money delivered to your house. This is a major area where the ICTJ is contributing our expertise, both in terms of developing a national reparations strategy and strengthening civil society's sense that reparations are about an obligation to victims and not just monetary compensation. What's really tragic is that the 5 million dollars used to run
the Commission on Truth and Friendship (CTF) could have been applied toward Indonesia and East Timor neutrally working together to develop a reparations program, fostering truth and friendship in the real sense.

Q: What is going to be the focus of your work in the next couple of years? Are you putting your
energies into reviving truth commission legislation, monitoring the CTF, or mobilizing victims' groups?

A: All of the above and more. Working on justice in Indonesia is like grappling with an enormous tangled knot: Pull and something comes loose over here and tightens over there. You struggle to untangle it and just hope there will be a point of momentum when it all unravels. Now that I am no longer a one-person operation and have solid partnerships in Aceh and Timor, I think we can get a lot more done on the ground, especially in terms of pursuing reparations, encouraging understanding across borders, and continuing to press for genuine accountability. But it's a tough road ahead.