WORLD AFFAIRS

Painful transition

Despite the uncertainties caused by the slow pace of vote-counting, Indonesia's reformists appear to be determined to ensure the country's emergence as the world's third largest democracy.

P.S. SURYANARAYANA
in Jakarta

THE qualitative shift from a recognisable autocracy to an experimental democracy is more profound and painful than even the transfer of power from a colonial power to its subject-state. This lesson in constitutional-political crisis resolution is unfoldi ng now across the vast South-East Asian archipelago that is Indonesia, the world's fourth most populous country, which also has the largest Muslim population. The last pluralistic election in the country took place in 1955.

Historically, Indonesians are receptive to external cultural and religious influences, and the unanswered question now is whether they will be able to live up to that reputation in the political sphere. At stake is the substantive, not empty, hype about Indonesia's present opportunity to emerge as the world's third largest democracy after India and the United States.

A historic general election, which is designed to herald a new era of democracy, was held in all the 27 provinces of Indonesia on June 7. Popular participation was lukewarm in the disputed East Timor, on account of the United Nations-sponsored referendum on maximal autonomy, which is scheduled for August 8. Rocked by endemic separatist violence and the rigours of a counter-insurgency operation, the Aceh province remained distinctly unenthusiastic despite being given a second chance to vote on June 8.

However, the response of Indonesians in general to the call of democracy was overwhelming. According to unofficial estimates, between 90 and 95 per cent of the 112 million voters exercised their franchise.

ITSUO INOUYE/AP
Opposition presidential candidate Megawati Sukarnoputri casts her vote in south Jakarta on June 7, along with her husband, Taufik Kimas.

Reckoning this as a statistical feat, international observers, variously guided by former U.S. President Jimmy Carter or the European Union, took a deep sigh and pronounced the latest round of elections a success - a generally free and fair exercise in e xtremely difficult circumstances. However, as the newly autonomous General Election Commission began the counting of ballots at its own pace, the diverse domestic monitors, more than 30,000 in strength, and the hundreds of foreign observers grew sceptica l.

Given the traumatic unrest that gripped Indonesia as students and youths rose in rebellion against General Suharto in May last year, not to mention the subsequent spiral of violence over old ethnic-religious issues with a new focus and the impatient ques t for democracy, predictions were aplenty about an upheaval of all manner of passions during the poll process. But Indonesians gave the proverbial Cassandra a holiday as they kept the campaign period and election day remarkably free of violence. Minor in stances of frayed tempers over perceived polling irregularities were reported, but the overall picture was almost perfect.

Not that the international community was unaware of the lurking dangers on Indonesia's path to a restorative democracy. Despite his transparent willingness to see the brighter side of the indefinable Indonesian revolution, Carter made it clear that the I nternational Election Observation Mission, consisting of election monitors from 23 countries including India, would evaluate the entire process of the ongoing political transition. The planned indirect presidential election in November will mark the end of the transition.

Indonesia's system of non-Gaullist, non-American executive presidency has only been partially modified under the post-Suharto political reforms carried out by incumbent President Bacharuddin Jusuf Habibie. The latest election, designed to let the people choose 462 members of a new House of Representatives (DPR in the local nomenclature), is expected to pave the way for the selection of the first democracy-era President by a new People's Consultative Assembly (MPR). This electoral college will consist of the DPR, which is now taking shape, as well as 38 non-elective representatives of the military forces, besides 135 members (five from each province) to be chosen by regional councils, for which the people had voted on June 7, and 65 others to be nominat ed by Habibie on considerations of providing suitable representation to the professions and the like.

The prospective MPR will consist of far fewer military nominees than in the past, when they dominated the body owing to 'praetorianism' or a right of say for the armed forces in political affairs. The composition of a new DPR, as an integral part of the next MPR, and the political complexion of the new bloc of regional representatives (a remote approximation to the Senators in the U.S.) will be determined, directly or otherwise, by the election results. However, the bloc of special interests and the mil itary caucus can be determined by Habibie - a one-time protege of Suharto, whose alleged accumulation of ill-gotten wealth and the stockpiling of this wealth abroad while in power is still a major issue, despite his strong denials.

On paper, the composition of a prospective MPR will leave Habibie with some discretionary powers in regard to just over 100 members, consisting of nominees of the military which had blessed his succession to the presidency and the bloc of special interes ts - in all, one-seventh of a new electoral college. However, the ground realities complicate the situation.

The number of seats to be apportioned among the competing parties in a new DPR will be determined on the basis of a formula in respect of each province - one seat for votes secured as an equivalent of the quotient obtained by dividing the total number of valid votes cast in the province by the total number of seats allocated to that province. As a consequence, the total national percentages of votes obtained by various parties may not assure them of seats in a direct proportion. This complex system was designed to meet the aspirations of a population featured by ethnic and religious diversities, but the possible final picture remained obscured by mid-June.

THE charismatic Megawati Sukarnoputri's Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P) took a decisive early lead in terms of the national percentage of votes obtained by candidates, and the ruling Golkar Party found itself in and out of the second posi tion, way behind the PDI-P. Megawati's nominal but steadfast ally, the veteran Abdurrahman Wahid's National Awakening Party (PKB), ran close to Golkar, sometimes ahead of it and sometimes behind. This kept the hopes of the reformists alive. But Golkar, u nmistakably identified by the people as a statist-party of autocracy for all practical purposes, despite its vehement assertions about its purported new look, kept political leaders guessing. Some close associates of Amien Rais, Megawati's nominal electo ral ally who called for Suharto's resignation last year ahead of the students, wanted him to back Golkar in the fluid post-poll situation on the ground that Megawati's Islamic credentials were suspect. Amien Rais asserted that he would not join hands wit h Golkar and ruin the image of the reformists.

While Golkar's high-profile leader, Marzuki Darusman, conceded defeat by June 13, his move did not reflect the party's overall mood, given his reputation as a maverick absolutely out of step with Habibie. However, Marzuki is the man to watch on the emerg ing Indonesian political firmament, given his perceived close links with the traditional political-military elite and his capacity to transform himself into a democrat.

The dismally slow counting, ascribed to a variety of factors including the inexperience of the polling officials and the time taken by the 48 political parties to endorse the tallies at each stage of counting, led to much concern in political circles. On e extreme view was that the General Election Commission, headed by a former Army boss and with representation for all parties, could even be asked to set up a transitional presidium to manage state affairs in the event of two-thirds of the total number o f parties refusing to endorse the election in its entirety.

In spite of these complications, Megawati kept her counsel even a week after the elections, fuelling speculation about her mood and methods. Megawati is not known to possess the fierce political passion of somebody like Indira Gandhi, either on the domes tic or on the international stage. Indonesians know, too, that Megawati is not in the mould of Corazon Aquino, Aung San Suu Kyi or even Benazir Bhutto. Indonesians are still waiting to see the real Megawati, although her brief performance as the opposit ion to the Suharto regime is regarded as her prime credential for leadership now.

MUCHTAR ZAKARIA/AP
President Bacharuddin Jusuf Habibie.

Megawati's calculations, as perceived by mid-June, were to form a binding, secular alliance with Wahid's party. Wahid, famous for his Islamist politics with gilt-edged secularism (in itself a characteristic Indonesian value of recent centuries), lost his patience with the suspected machinations of Golkar to remain in power allegedly by causing delays in vote-counting. Maintaining that the election was but a case of the people against Golkar, he even threatened to form an alternative government, at home or abroad, in the event of the reformists being robbed of victory. Wahid had earlier given a sensational reply to this correspondent's question by affirming that he would seek to set up a government in exile if the military were to try and impose emergen cy laws during Indonesia's transition to genuine democracy.

While such views added a poignant dimension to the saga of a slow vote-count, yet another political view came into sharp focus. It was said that the transparent winner of the election should not take his or her selection as President for granted, if only because the members of a new MPR would perhaps be voting for the President in secrecy, a new practice that could lead to cross-voting.

In the midst of all these uncertainties, the general mood of the reformists, students, politicians and some former military leaders was to ensure the country's emergence as the world's third largest democracy. In this milieu, the experiences of India and the U.S. figured quite prominently in parlour discussions. What then was the contribution of India to this Indonesian experiment? On the physical plane, indelible ink of nearly $1 million was imported by Indonesia from India, according to India's Ambass ador in Jakarta, M. Venkatraman. While the imported ink was appreciated by many voters, there were some complaints about the ink that was locally made in view of the insufficient intake from India. At another level, the Carter-led team of international o bservers included a few Indian experts such as Clarence Dias, who cautioned against debunking the checks and balances of the Indonesian vote-counting system in sheer frustration over the delays which should be separately investigated. The assistance of t he United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) to Indonesia's democratic experiment was locally supervised by Ravi Rajan. Above all, Indonesia's new breed of emerging political analysts is beginning to evince interest in studying Indian democratic experi ences closely so as to draw lessons for Jakarta's own journey.