Thailand’s army has tightened its grip on the country’s domestic political process since launching its coup d‘etat last Thursday. Up to 200 politicians, journalists, academics and activists have been arrested, with more ordered to surrender to authorities. The media have been tightly restricted on what can be reported and there has even been a brief shut-down of social media sites.
The army’s National Council for Peace and Order's (NCPO), now acting as the government, dissolved Thailand’s semi-appointed Senate over the weekend, ending speculation that the army would use the conservative Senate appoint an interim prime minister. With this move, coup leader General Prayuth Chan-ocha assumed all parliamentary authority, although he has appointed a small body of advisers.
Further tightening the army’s grip on Thai politics, officers not deemed to be supportive of the coup, including national police chief General Adul Saengsinglaew, defence secretary General Nipat Thonglek and Special Investigations Department director-general General Tarit Pengdith, have also been sacked.
Thailand’s land borders have been closed and senior ousted government Pheu Thai Party figures who have not yet surrendered to the army have had their bank accounts frozen.
Further details have emerged as to how the coup was staged. The army chief called a meeting for 2pm last Thursday of Thailand’s government and opposition leaders, senators, election commissioners and key figures in the pro-government ‘red shirt’ and anti-government ‘yellow shirt’ factions to a meeting at army headquarters last Thursday. The meeting was ostensibly to avoid further yellow shirt protests planned for the weekend.
The talks became deadlocked over demands that the government resign and whether and when there would be fresh elections. When, two and a half hours after the meeting started, General Prayuth asked government Justice Minister Chaikasem Nitisiri whether the government would resign, Chaikasem said it would not. General Prayuth then said he was seizing political power.
While most of the politicians at the meeting were then detained, senators, election commissioners and Opposition Democrat Party leader and former prime minister Abhisit Vejajjiva was freed. Yellow shirt protest leader Suthep Thaugsuban was also freed a short time later, indicating the army's political preferences.
It is now thought that the army will remain in power until Thailand can go to new elections under a new constitution, probably not until next year.
The new constitution, when it comes, is expected to include limits on majority rule, including increasing the appointment of members of parliament, formerly limited to 74 of the 150 members of the Senate. There have also been calls for extending the political role of the now ageing King Bhumibol Adulyadej or his successor.
Meanwhile, in Thailand’s pro-government ‘red-shirt’ heartland of Khon Kaen in the country’s impoverished north-east, there were arrests over the weekend of 21 people said to be in possession of weapons and explosives, sparking fears of an armed anti-coup insurrection. An army spokesman claimed the group was supposed to launch the first stage of an armed insurrection against the new military junta.
Meanwhile, numerous , if small, anti-coup protests have sprung up in direct defiance of the government’s ban on gatherings of more than five people. Soldiers and police have so far acted with restraint in the face of the growing protests.
In Thailand's restive south, however, there have been more than 20 bomb blasts and further shootings since the declaration of martial law. Young Muslim militants, some who have now trained on the battlefields of Syria, have returned with a much less compromising approach to how their own political claims should be settled.
Thailand's main towns remained relatively quiet, but there was also an undercurrent that this situation - and Thailand's military rule - would not go unchallenged.
The announcement yesterday by Indonesian presidential candidate Joko ‘Jokowi’ Widodo that his vice-presidential running mate will be former vice-president Jusuf Kalla has calmed concerns that Indonesia could be headed back towards an era of increased military influence. Until yesterday, it had been suggested that Jokowi’s running mate would be hard-line retired general Ryamizard Ryacudu.
Jokowi’s main competition for the presidency comes from hard-line former general Prabowo Subianto, who was cashiered out of the army in 1998 for human rights abuses. Prabowo was the son-in-law of former President Suharto, and was implicated in atrocities in East Timor and West Papua, as well as against student protesters in Jakarta in 1998.
The orientation of Jokowi, a populist, towards the army is unknown. However, he will represent the Indonesian Democratic Party-Struggle (PDI-P) in the presidential race, with PDI-P having in the past been sympathetic to a military response to security problems.
However, Jusuf Kalla is likely to bring a moderate and technocratic influence to government, should he and Jokowi be successful. Current opinion polls suggest that they will have a comfortable victory in July’s presidential elections.
Jusuf Kalla was vice-president during out-going president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s first and most successful term in office. It was during this time that Yudhoyono pushed through his main reforms, with Kalla playing a key role in many of them.
Among other roles, Kalla was given overall responsibility for the 2005 Aceh peace talks, which ultimately ended almost three decades of separatist war in Aceh and introduced a high degree of local autonomy. Kalla directed his two trusted lieutenants, then Justice Minister Hamid Awaluddin and Social Welfare Deputy Minister Farid Hussein, who were important to the success of the talks. Kalla had previously led efforts to resolve conflicts in Ambon and Poso.
While Jokowi is from Central Java, Kalla is from Sulawesi, providing a geographic balance that is usually regarded as desirable in a presidential election team. Prabowo is seconded by Indonesia’s richest man and chairman of Golkar party, Aburizal Bakrie, a West Javanese born in Jakarta. Kalla is a former chairman of Golkar, which may see a split in the vote of Indonesia’s second largest political party.
A Jokowi-Kalla team, whould it be successful, is likely to keep Indonesia on a path of continued moderate democratic reform. It is also likely to be less assertively nationalist than an administration led by Prabowo.
When a government cuts spending, its non-voting constituents are always going to fare worse than those who do vote. Whatever residual anger might come at the next federal elections, Australia’s aid recipients won’t be a part of that vote.
As compared to budget cuts of $7.6 billion over the next five years, or a little over $1.5 billion a year, the government’s trimming of just $107 million from the $5 billion aid budget in January looks positively generous. An earlier bipartisan commitment to lift Australian aid spending to 0.5% of gross national income, delayed until 2017-18, now appears entirely gone.
Australia has an international obligation under the United Nations Millennium Development Goals to spend 0.7% of its gross national income on foreign aid by 2020. That also appears to be no longer within the realms of foreseeable reality.
The Coalition's had a pre-election commitment to grow the aid budget in line with inflation. But, riffing off former prime minister John Howard’s "core" and "non-core" promises, that appears to have joined the substantial list of "non-significant" promises.
Yet Australia’s aid budget, and the uses to which it is put, is the better face of the "white tribe of Asia". Moreover, some regional governments only marginally concerned with cuts to Australian aid will measure this spending reprioritisation against Australia’s defence build-up. An 11% increase in the defence budget stands in stark contrast to the aid cuts, and sends a less benign signal to our neighbours.
Even Crikey’s sober readers, considering aid cuts set against wider cuts, might be saying, "So what?" Australia’s aid budget has been, overwhelmingly, aimed at the Asia-Pacific region. In this area, there are 757 million people in extreme poverty, usually defined as living on less that $1 a day.
Australia cannot fix this problem by itself, and regional governments do need to lift their respective games. But, to the extent that Australia has committed to assist, that promise has been broken to more than just ourselves.
With some regional governments being miffed, Australia will lose diplomatically from this budget. But the real losers from Australia’s aid parsimony will be those whose existence is just this side of total calamity and, for want of a few cents a day each, may now slip to the other side.
Thailand’s political roller coaster has taken a sharp downward turn, with the country’s constitutional court forcing Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra and a number of ministers to resign over an alleged "abuse of power", in what her supporters are calling a constitutional coup. A caretaker prime minister has been appointed by the remaining cabinet, but the country now appears to be headed towards a political showdown.
The court’s ruling, over the transfer of a senior security official in 2011, was marked by rushing proceedings and not allowing Yingluck to present key witnesses in court. The ousted prime minister’s supporters have claimed since the proceedings were first initiated that they were being orchestrated by anti-democratic forces.
It has been reported in the Thai media that the anti-government demonstrations, which had been disrupting Bangkok, were funded by figures who wish to see the country’s royal family have an active role in Thai politics. Anti-government protesters have been calling for the replacement of the government with a non-elected "people’s council".
Although always deeply opposed to the Shinawatra family’s grip on political power, the anti-government group was roused to new levels of anger when Yingluck Sinawatra presented a bill to Parliament granting amnesty for her brother, former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, over a corruption conviction. The amnesty would have allowed Thaksin to return from self-imposed exile. Thaksin was ousted as prime minister in a coup in 2006 and was subsequently convicted of corruption.
Opposition forces were further angered when Yingluck attempted to change the 2007 constitution to make Parliament’s upper house fully elected, as it was before the 2006 coup, rather than partially appointed. Such a move would have broken the entrenched power of Thailand’s conservative elite, which has been behind the recent anti-government protests.
Yingluck’s Pheu Thai Party, already dominant in the lower house, would have been likely to have been handed a majority in both houses of Parliament had the move succeeded. However, at the urging of the opposition Democratic Party, the conservatively aligned courts overruled the constitutional amendment last year.
Thai politics has been increasingly characterised as a division between pro-government "red shirts" and anti-government "yellow shirts", defined by the former’s power base in the north and north-east of the country and among Bangkok’s working class, and the latter among Bangkok’s middle and upper classes and the south of the country.
However, the divisions also run to views on the role of the monarchy, with succession to the frail King Bhumibol Adulyadej increasingly imminent, patronage networks, the role of the military and police, and a range of other economic, social and cultural factors. While this complex of factors had earlier ensured some fluidity in Thai politics, positions have increasingly hardened and divided since Thaksin’s ouster in 2006.
The "constitutional coup" against Yingluck Shinawatra will only further entrench those divisions. Red shirt supporters are now planning to march on Bangkok, in a reversal of the tactics that plunged the capital into chaos from late last year.
In a state of political flux, the opposition will now be pushing for the establishment of its proposed "people’s council", to which its members would be appointed. This is their preferred alternative to going to fresh elections and again facing the prospect of defeat.
Historically excluded from the levers of power, Thailand’s poor have, through the patronage of the Shinawatra family, experienced some of the economic benefits of political power. They now seem to be reluctant to give up such benefits without a fight.
Having experienced the effectiveness of the yellow shirts’ mass protests and building occupations, the red shirts can be expected to try something similar soon. The only question will be whether Thailand’s traditionally more conservative security forces show as much restraint against the red shirts as they had against the yellow shirts.
In any case, Thailand’s experiment with democracy, so promising at so many levels, now appears to be all but permanently broken. It may, perhaps, be restored, if in a diminished sense. But the idea that a majority of people can choose a government without restriction now appears to have been removed from Thailand’s political agenda for the foreseeable future.
As eastern Ukraine spirals out of control, the interim government in Kiev is desperately seeking to renegotiate the Geneva agreement, aimed at restoring a semblance of unity in the now deeply divided state. Russian President Vladimir Putin, meanwhile, appears happy adjusting levers of strategic power to apply pressure, in turn in Donetsk, Sloviansk and now in Odessa.
It is not yet clear whether the eastern Russian-speaking region will actually separate from Ukraine, whether Russia will invade or if regional destabilisation is just being used to achieve other ends. At least as likely as invasion, this destablisation is just a bloody game to achieve Russia’s regional economic and strategic goals.
There is no doubt that Russia is providing most of the impetus for separatism in Ukraine’s Russian-speaking regions. First Crimea separated from Ukraine, with the direct intervention of what Putin first denied and then later admitted were Russian troops without insignia. Now "paramilitaries" with identical unmarked uniforms and weapons are active in eastern Ukraine. These paramilitaries are providing both direction and reinforcement to separatist Ukrainian Russian-speakers.
There is fear within the Kiev government that pushing back against the pro-Russian occupation of key towns and installations in the east will provoke a direct Russian invasion. This will, many believe, be rationalised by the deaths of Russian speakers.
However, short of mass casualties among Russian speakers, which would spark an artificially constructed Russian variation of the "responsibility to protect" paradigm, such an overt intervention is unlikely. The intention of the Russian government appears to be to pressure the Kiev interim government into reversing its position on embracing the European Union and NATO to one of returning to mother Russia.
To achieve this outcome, Russia is balancing its role in eastern Ukraine. Should Russia overtly invade, it would be politically difficult to withdraw and leave Russian speakers living within a Ukrainian state. Such an intervention would almost certainly require absorption of Russian-speaking areas into Russia proper.
More usefully, Russia will exert maximum pressure on the government in Kiev without invading. Russia does not wish to lose the leverage that would come from leaving Ukraine nominally intact but internally divided. In this, Crimea was useful as an object of lesson to the Kiev government for what could happen in eastern Ukraine. It was not necessarily a precursor to what will happen.
In the meantime, what amounts to a deadly theatre is being played out in Odessa, Donetsk, Sloviansk, Konstantinovka, Slavyansk, Andreyevka and Kramatorsk. Dozens have now died, and Ukraine’s security forces are demoralised and, in part, divided.
Since invading Georgia in 2008, Russia has been much more prepared to directly intervene in the affairs of its neighbors. Regional control is much more important to Moscow than international rule of law.
But Moscow does not wish to reincorporate Ukraine entirely, as it did once within the former Soviet Union. Ukraine serves a more convenient purpose if it remains nominally independent but performs to a classically pessimistic script drafted by the Kremlin.
Such a script, by default, portrays Moscow as the powerful yet torn protagonist. In this, Russia’s dramas, vanities and intemperances are writ large. By way of contrast, the minor, peripheral characters are increasingly being rehearsed in their role to be one of subservience and supplication in this Slavic tragedy.
Russia's political leaders appear to be taking a particular pleasure in the planned and co-ordinated dismemberment of Ukraine. As with any unprincipled thug, Russia’s only constraint is ensuring it remains internationally unaccountable while continuing to dismantle its vulnerable neighbour.
Russia is now breaking off pieces of the country at will and ignoring international protestations while feigning innocence. The eastern Ukraine town of Slaviansk is now firmly under the control of thinly disguised Russian troops and their local compatriots, with Ukraine reluctant to act for fear of provoking even greater Russian intervention.
That pro-Russian militia took military observers from Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe hostage only further highlights Russia’s intransigence towards a genuinely negotiated resolution of the crisis. The arrest of the observers, on the pretext they were spying, was a simple demonstration of Russia’s rejection of any external involvement in events in eastern Ukraine; the release of one on health grounds was an all-but-inconsequential gesture.
European and United States protestations at the events in eastern Ukraine are having no effect on Russia’s actions, nor are proposed economic sanctions by the G7 expected to be strong or co-ordinated enough to be meaningful. In any case, Russia has already factored sanctions into its game plan.
As with threats of US intervention following the Assad regime’s use of chemical weapons in Syria last year, Russia has fobbed off US concerns by agreeing to terms it had no intention of keeping. Russia was to urge moderation on pro-Russian separatists in eastern Ukraine, retaining the fiction that they are not actual Russian soldiers.
While some of the heavily armed and uniformed militia in eastern Ukraine are, no doubt, locals who have volunteered or been recruited to the service of the militant separatist movement, others are clearly uniformed Russian soldiers without identifying insignia. These Russian soldiers are identical to those Russian troops without insignia who, with support of Russian-speaking locals, overthrew Ukraine control of Crimea in February.
Meanwhile, despite Russia’s earlier agreement to draw down troop numbers massed on Ukraine’s border, there are some 40,000 soldiers still in place, along with military "exercises" that look like preparations for invasion. This, too, however, is part of Russia’s "psychological warfare" game plan, whereby it has not technically invaded Ukraine, but the threat of doing so undermines Ukraine’s interim Parliament’s every thought and move.
While Russia is very unlikely to invade Ukraine, it is absolutely intent on seeing Ukraine rewrite the country’s constitution to create autonomous -- Russian-aligned -- regions. It also wants Ukraine to hold new elections, producing a parliament with a dominant core of pro-Russian members, and an agreement to turn away from the European Union and embrace Russia’s Eurasian Economic Union.
In all of this, as with the US in some of its own ventures in Latin America, Russia sees Ukraine as clearly within its own sphere of influence. And there is no doubt that if events in Ukraine are handled badly, they could create a much bigger and more serious regional problem.
But the US, Europe and even Russia are all keen to avoid an uncontrolled escalation of the Ukraine crisis, especially in ways that could spill across borders. To that end, Russia is being a regional thug but, with no one prepared or, indeed, able to force a halt to its carefully calculated actions, it is likely to get the final outcome it wishes.
It will take some months to play out, but Australia is finally before an international tribunal to determine whether or not it has acted legally over the division of the Timor Sea with Timor-Leste. At stake is the territorial boundary between Australia and Timor-Leste and, therefore, control of tens of billions of dollars’ worth of oil and gas resources.
Back in 2000, while Timor-Leste was still rebuilding its devastated infrastructure and preparing itself for independence, Australia insisted on retaining the Timor Gap Treaty, which had been so infamously agreed to with Indonesia in 1989. That this treaty was part of Australia’s acquiescence to Indonesia’s brutal 1975 invasion and subsequent occupation of Timor-Leste, in which up to a third of the population died, was especially galling to Timor-Leste.
Timor-Leste did not, at that early stage, even have a government. But Australia was already pushing hard in pursuit of its own narrowly defined national interests. Those interests were territorial and commercial. As it turned out, they were also personal. The person who led Australia’s case at that time was Foreign Minister Alexander Downer.
Downer later used Australian spies to bug Timor-Leste’s cabinet office during negotiations, in contravention of Timor-Leste law. Timor-Leste claims that those actions invalidate the subsequent treaty. In his life after politics, through his consulting firm Bespoke Approach, Downer became a paid consultant to Woodside Petroleum. Woodside is Australia’s largest hydrocarbon company and stands to make billions of dollars from the arrangement.
During those negotiations, Downer told the cash-strapped Timor-Leste government that if it did not agree to retain the pre-existing border arrangements, income from the Timor Gap’s oil deposits would be frozen. Without that income, the government of Timor-Leste would collapse and its people would starve.
According to reports at the time, Downer said to then Timor-Leste Prime Minister Mari Alkatiri that this approach was ‘a lesson in politics’. Timor-Leste being effectively blackmailed, Downer signed the first part of the three part agreement on 20 May 2002—the day Timor-Leste was officially declared independent.
The treaty, however, was incomplete and, allocating Timor-Leste just 18 per cent of revenues from the oil field, led to two further agreements. These resulted in the 2006 Treaty on Certain Maritime Agreements in the Timor Sea (CMATS), which sets aside the question of a permanent boundary between the two countries for fifty years, by which time estimated reserves will be depleted.
CMATS effectively re-instituted earlier agreements, in 1971 and 1972, with Indonesia. These agreements allocated a territorial boundary along Australia’s continental shelf, placing it much closer to Indonesia than Australia. This arrangement was based on a 1958 iteration of the Convention of the Law of the Sea.
Even then, Indonesia had objected to the continental shelf defining the boundary. Foreign Minister Mochtar Kusumaatmadja said of that agreement that Indonesia had been ‘taken to the cleaners’. However, the border that had been agreed to remained.
Portugal, the colonial authority in Timor-Leste at that time, had not participated in these border discussions. There thus remained a ‘gap’ in the boundary, corresponding to the Portuguese colonial territory.
Soon after Indonesia’s invasion of Timor-Leste, Australia resumed discussions with it about closing that ‘gap’. By this time, however, the Convention on the Law of the Sea had moved on. By 1982, the already contested ‘continental shelf’ argument was replaced by the convention that maritime boundaries be drawn at a point equidistant from claimant states; the so-called ‘median line’ principle. Addressing both the existing boundary arrangement with Indonesia, as well as ‘median line’ argument, and recognising the potential for oil and gas exploitation, the two countries agreed to the Timor Gap Treaty.
This treaty allocated a smaller part of the ‘gap’ exclusively to Indonesia, a larger portion to be shared between the two countries and a significant southern portion to Australia. The treaty remained unequal in terms of the median line principle, but did not disrupt the previously agreed boundary, while also allocating some of the resources of the ‘gap’ to Indonesia.
Following the finalisation of the Treaty with Indonesia, Australian Foreign Minister Gareth Evans and Indonesian Foreign Minister Ali Alatas infamously celebrated by toasting with champagne toast while flying over the Timor Gap. However, development of the gap’s resources had only just begun when Timor-Leste voted for independence in 1999.
It was against this background, and Timor-Leste’s desperate need to begin earning revenue, that it went into negotiations with Australia. But what Timor-Leste did not know at this time was that Australia had brought the full force of its capabilities to bear in deciding the outcome of the negotiations; Alexander Downer had ordered Australian foreign intelligence officers to bug Timor-Leste’s cabinet room, to gain inside information on Timor-Leste’s negotiating strategy.
Australia was ultimately successful in restricting Timor-Leste’s claims to those associated with the previous Indonesian agreement. The region in question—the Joint Petroleum Development Area (JPDA) —remained jointly operated, with a smaller northern section allocated to Timor-Leste, a larger central area to be divided between the two states, and a large southern area allocated to Australia.
The rest of the boundary remained as agreed with Indonesia. While Australia agreed to relatively generous terms in the allocation of income from the field, this assumed that Australia had a legitimate territorial claim in the first place. But more importantly, it placed the most valuable part of the Timor Sea’s hydrocarbon fields, the Greater Sunrise gas field, largely in Australian territorial waters.
The Greater Sunrise field has been estimated to be worth between $40 and $50 billion, with its revenue to be divided between Australia and Timor-Leste. Woodside Petroleum—the company that has since secured the services of Alexander Downer—has the contract to develop the field. However, a separate dispute between Woodside and Timor-Leste about processing the liquid natural gas from the field has stopped further development to date.
Timor-Leste has insisted that the Greater Sunrise gas be processed on shore in Timor-Leste to help kick-start a petro-chemical industry. This is intended to generate employment and technological transfers to Timor-Leste. With support from Australia, Woodside has so far resisted, preferring an off-shore floating processing site. If Timor-Leste is successful in having the maritime boundary redrawn, it will have the whip hand in deciding where processing will take place. If Woodside continues to resist, Timor-Leste may seek an alternative development partner.
Since the beginning of negotiations, Timor-Leste has been deeply unhappy about the whole issue of the Timor Sea. It has continued to argue for a fairer allocation of income from the Sea’s resources and a more internationally acceptable maritime boundary. Until recently, however, given that a treaty is in place, its legal case has been weak. And then came evidence that Australia spied on Timor-Leste’s cabinet discussions. Timor-Leste argues that this spying means that the treaty negotiations were conducted in bad faith and hence invalidates CMATS.
Australia’s spying on Timor-Leste was confirmed by a former intelligence agent who ran the spying operation on Timor-Leste’s cabinet. Following revelations about Downer’s employment by Woodside, he provided evidence of Australia’s actions to Timor-Leste’s counsel, Canberra-based lawyer Bernard Colleary.
Last year, Timor-Leste took the matter to the International Court of Arbitration at The Hague, asking that CMATS be formally invalidated. In response, the Australian Attorney-General, George Brandis, ordered that Australian domestic intelligence agency ASIO raid Colleary’s office and seize the claimed evidence.
This seizure has since been challenged in the International Court of Justice, and the Australian government has since said it will return those documents that do not present it with a security risk. The problem, of course, is that what represents a ‘security risk’ to Australia could, like its ‘national interest’, be widely interpreted. This is not to mention that Australia has again secured inside knowledge of Timor-Leste’s position and thus advantaged itself in a way that constitutes bad faith.
Australia has not just acted badly in relation to Timor-Leste, it is being seen to have acted badly. The question will be, if Timor-Leste is successful in its claim, whether the court will send the two countries back to negotiations or whether it will rule on a median point maritime boundary.
If it is compelled to return to negotiations, the Timor-Leste government says the median line will be its minimum position. If the court rules on the median line, however, it will not need to negotiate. Either way, the result will push the maritime boundary very much closer to Australia and, in effect, put almost all of the Timor Sea oil and gas resources under Timor-Leste’s jurisdiction.
As a result, beyond controlling the Greater Sunrise gas field and existing oil and gas fields, there is also the question about whether, if a median line boundary is imposed, Australia would be required to repay the billions of dollars it has inappropriately received under CMATS.
And perhaps as importantly, a median line maritime boundary with Timor-Leste will be at significant odds with Australia’s maritime boundaries with Indonesia. While redrawing Australia’s sea boundary with Indonesia is a separate issue, this will also come under reconsideration. Such a redrawing of boundaries would significantly reduce Australia’s maritime reach and expand that of Indonesia, with significant resource and security implications for both countries.
Australia is therefore trying desperately to hold off Timor-Leste’s claim, and may yet resort to further pressurising tactics. Australian aid to Timor-Leste could come into question although, with access to greater oil and gas revenues, such aid would become redundant.
In pursuit of its narrowly defined national interest, Australia has all but officially alienated a small regional country that has wanted nothing more than to be a friend. As a friend, however, it has wanted to be treated as an equal. If Timor-Leste is successful in The Hague, it will be made equal to Australia under international law. There won’t, however, be much left of the official friendship.
Rejected. That’s how they returned it.
"Application rejected" was stamped on a visa application to speak at a seminar in Jakarta. With this, I will now reach an arbitrary but quite substantial decade on Indonesia’s "black" list.
It has been widely assumed that Indonesia’s practice of black-listing people disappeared when president Suharto was pushed from power in 1998. But, despite its era of "reform" and relative democratisation, Indonesia’s draconian black list remains.
The black ban was placed on my entry to Indonesia not long after Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono became President in 2004. Along with another Australian academic, I was banned after making critical comments about the Indonesian army’s escalation of violence in the province of Aceh.
Along with a third academic, Dr Lesley McCulloch, and American journalist William Nessen, we comprised a small group deemed too troublesome to be allowed entry into Indonesia. Yet despite serving six months in Indonesian prisons for visa violations, within weeks of her release McCulloch’s ban was lifted and she was allowed to return.
By early 2005, I was advising the Free Aceh Movement in the Helsinki peace talks. Six months later, the talks ended three decades of separatist conflict and introduced democracy and a high degree of autonomy to that long-troubled province.
Despite the good outcome for Aceh and Indonesia, the Indonesian military (TNI) lost a substantial proportion of its illegal business interests in Aceh. The TNI was angry. It had two officers on the country’s immigration committee, who were ordered to ensure that I not return.
Visits to the Indonesian consul-general in Melbourne and embassy in Canberra to ask why I was banned produced the reply of either "I don’t know" or "visa violation". Yet no violation could be identified.
The other banned academic did what what some viewed as an about-face on the Indonesian military and had his ban lifted. The Indonesian consul-general in Melbourne said that if I also wrote positive articles about Indonesia my own case might be reviewed. I replied that my writing on Indonesia was often -- if not always -- positive.
Soon after, I learned that I had been banned anew for working on the problem of West Papua. It was like being executed, buried and then dug up to be shot again!
The purpose of a black ban used to be to cut off a researcher from his or her site of work. However, with the advent of email, Facebook and Skype, such bans have limited practical impact on the flow of information.
Some Indonesian friends regarded the black ban as misplaced. In 2008, then governor of Aceh, Irwandi Yusuf, flew to Melbourne to convey that Yudhoyono had lifted my black ban. I was, he said, free to return to Indonesia.
On this advice, a planned two-day stop-over in Indonesia en route to Singapore became a trip from Melbourne to Sydney via Jakarta. The TNI had overturned Yudhoyono’s listing of my ban. The game continued.
Having been more recently assured that the ban had expired, colleagues at the Islamic University of Indonesia invited me to present at a seminar and wrote a letter to the Indonesian embassy in Australia requesting a visa. Yet above the "application rejected" stamp was the hand-written words "masuk daftar cekal" ("banned entry list").
Indonesia’s democratisation process has been imperfect. Notably, reform of the TNI effectively ended around 2008, and it retains numerous "offline" business interests, along with entrenched coercive powers.
But the TNI seems to still be angry over the loss of some of its power and income that came as a consequence of the Aceh peace agreement. I assume it was also not happy with my writing about its involvement human rights abuses and corruption.
If that is the case, being banned from Indonesia is a small price to pay. That was so for the past decade. It now seems it will continue to be so.
Perhaps it’s because we like to reinforce our own prejudices with positive reaffirmations or perhaps it’s because the media does not know how to tell a complex story simply, but the weekend’s presidential election in Afghanistan was not the democratic triumph we have been led to believe. Yes, they were elections, but this was somewhat short of "two turnover test" that has been incorrectly applied to the notion of "democratic consolidation".
The most positive news to come from the elections was that there was relatively little violence on the part of the Taliban. This meant that most voters who wanted to participate could do so.
Indications are that the voter turnout was in excess of 50%, which might look good set against the United States' own abysmal electoral participation but falls well short of the enthusiastic 80%-plus registered in other new democracies. There has also been much celebration of the fact that around a third of the voters were women, which otherwise indicates how poor the status of women is in this still deeply traditionalist country.
Of the 11 presidential candidates, none was expected to come out as a clear winner with 50%-plus of the vote, meaning the elections would go to a run-off between the two leading candidates. Abdullah Abdullah appeared to be the candidate most favoured by the West, in part because he is a known figure, having run against Hamid Karzai in the 2009 elections, and in part because he is photogenic and speaks English well.
However, unlike 2009, the half-ethnic Pashtun-half Tajik Abdullah was not a frontrunner this time around. The winner is expected to be a full-blooded Pashtun, which while not of an absolute majority in their own right is still Afghanistan’s largest ethnic group.
Of the two leading candidates, Ashraf Ghani Ahmadzai is an American-educated academic and former finance minister who spent much of his adult life outside Afghanistan. He appears competent and the least corrupt of the leading candidates. The other lead candidate is Zalmay Rassoul, who is backed by outgoing Hamid Karzai, and may be implicated in some of the allegations of profound corruption that have swirled around the Karzai camp.
Other candidates include religious figures, some close to the Taliban and a smattering of warlords. It will be several days, perhaps weeks, before it is known, however, who will head into the run-off.
Early reports suggest that the 2014 elections were not as compromised as the 2009 elections, in part because there were very few election observers left in the field to actually monitor the elections. Even so, there have still been numerous reports of irregularities and a lack of ballot papers in some areas, notably where Abdullah has the strongest support.
The run-off election, with massive opportunities for patronage available to the winner, is likely to see more serious electoral fraud. If reports continue to say that the situation has improved since 2009, that perhaps less reflects that the electoral process is a good one and more that the 2009 elections were, according to all of the electoral observers there then, the most corrupt and compromised in the history of election observation.
A large part of the Afghanistan political equation, though, is the Taliban, which conformed to an increasing political type by not disrupting election day itself. They know this is not the main game.
As the international presence in Afghanistan winds down, both in military and aid terms, no matter who is elected as the new president, they will have to negotiate directly with the Taliban. And the Taliban has shown that any such negotiations will, increasingly, be on their terms.
Afghanistan has had elections, which is positive, even if the process only partially fulfilled the criteria for being truly democratic. However, any suggestion that the "two turnover test" means anything more than forestalling the inevitable is to reflect a poor appreciation of Afghanistan’s conflicted history or fractured political dynamics.