Military assault and riots in Solo

Military assault and riots in Solo

In recent months, anyone travelling through Indonesia would unavoidably
be drawn into the events that have come into the international spotlight
news after a long struggle of the people.

My travels unexpectedly ended in Solo, a city 12 hours by train from
Jakarta, in the days leading up to the resignation of President Suharto.
While the world watched the rioting and destruction in Jakarta, other crucial
events had been unfolding virtually unnoticed.

On Friday, May 8, at the University Sebelas Maret in Solo, 10,000 students
demonstrated peacefully, calling for reform and the stepping down of Suharto.
On this day students obtained permission from the commander of the military
to go out onto the streets.

The group that emerged was promptly surrounded by military, who began
beating the students and who fired without warning, a violation of their
code of conduct. This was followed by continued calls of “Attack!” by military
police as students scrambled back to campus, an area designated as a military-free
zone.

Official interviews with the military point out that rubber bullets
are not fatal when used at a range of 25-50m. Eyewitness accounts of this
day indicate that the required distance was violated.

The
military moved onto campus grounds to continue their attack, described
by students as “like a war zone”. On this day, 400 students were received
at the hospital, four were killed, nine are still missing, and countless
others are in critical condition. This senseless tragedy did not make the
newspapers in Solo, much less the international media, occurring five days
before the deaths of six student activists at Trisakti University in Jakarta.

These demonstrations have been occurring on campuses across Indonesia,
the demonstrators increasing in number and determination as it became clear
that the regime had no interest in solving the country's economic crisis
beyond protecting Suharto's elite circle of cronies and their personal
wealth.

Initially the students' main concerns were the cabinet appointed by
Suharto soon after the March 11 “elections”, including his daughter “Tutut”
and a range of business cronies and corrupt bureaucrats.

Another concern throughout his rule had been Suharto's extraordinary
wealth, estimated at $40 billion plus and obtained at the expense of the
Indonesian people. Suharto's earlier promises of reform to begin in the
year 2003 were unacceptable to the students.

In the midst of mass arrests, disappearances and kidnappings, and ignoring
military threats and intimidation tactics that included night interrogations
at activists' homes, students continued to take to the streets. As one
student commented, “We must speak. Who else will speak?”

Around the time of the March 11 elections, other members of the community
had begun to speak. In an incident in Jakarta, four mothers were jailed
for protesting against increases in the price of milk, now unaffordable
for their children.

In the following months, people became frustrated by soaring unemployment
and inadequate food supplies. A main catalyst for their support of the
student demonstrations was the IMF-imposed May 4 increases of up to 70%
in petrol prices, which inflated transportation costs, electricity and
the costs of daily cooking to a point that people simply could not afford
these commodities at all.

On the streets, I heard many stories from families struck by unemployment
now unable to buy milk for their children and who were struggling to afford
food, now made even more scarce by panic buying of the elite classes.

Another component that added to the volatility of Solo was the strained
relationships between the ethnic Chinese and the “asli” or native Javanese
people. There is a history of misunderstandings between these groups, cleverly
manipulated by the regime to divert attention from its own failure to improve
the economy and the unimaginable corruption and wealth of Suharto, his
family, his friends and ABRI (the armed forces).

An example of this scapegoating was the reintroduction of the subversion
law for hoarding food during the food riots in which ethnic Chinese were
targeted. The armed forces have done little to protect Chinese-Indonesian
shops. The Chinese business community has suffered greatly from this tactic.

The combination of these many factors and the long pent-up emotions
became explosive. Social, economic and political injustices pushed people
to desperation. As one Indonesian expressed it, “We have nothing left to
lose”.

On May 14, after a deceptively peaceful wander through the streets of
Solo, a city long known as a political barometer for the rest of Indonesia,
I saw anger and frustrations come to the surface.

By 3.30 that afternoon, there were at least eight fires in the vicinity
of the hostel. I could hear the smashing of glass, overturning and destruction
of cars, gunshots and the loud cheering of crowds in the streets. Great
flames licked into the air, engulfing a nearby shopping mall and smearing
dense inky clouds of black across the sky.

The surrounding alleyways, leading to neighbourhoods, were quickly blocked
off in the fear that the emotional mobs would enter the area of small traditional
homes known as kampungs. For two nights, resident vigilante squads kept
a 24-hour watch to protect their homes.

Meanwhile, for two days department stores, car and motorcycle dealerships,
bus stations, warehouses, factories, banks, Chinese-owned stores and homes,
rich neighbourhoods, the government-owned TV station and whole streets
were set on fire, looted and destroyed.

The first afternoon, the entire sky was black with smoke from the raging
fires, which by evening cast an orange glow onto the horizon encircling
the city.

The electricity was out for the first night in most of the city. By
2am a horrible silence had descended on the surrounding neighbourhoods.
I wandered out to the main road, eerie and still in the aftermath, ashes
still lingering in the air and clinging to my nostrils in a disturbing
mix of burned rubber and wreckage.

Cars were upturned every 10 metres and still burning into the blackness
of the night, a heavy curtain of smoke obscuring the lines of charred stores.
Beams of light crossed over them from military vehicles enforcing an 8pm
to 6am curfew. It was like wandering into a surrealist nightmare.

It is important to emphasise that the riots were not started or carried
out by students, but began with poor workers and unemployed calling for
change. Their actions revealed a deep-rooted anger brought on by the economic
crisis and the frustration of 32 years of oppression, poverty and corruption.

My departure from Solo was also a first viewing of the full extent of
the damage. The streets were littered with broken glass and overturned
vehicles amidst graffiti and hundreds of banners calling for reforms. The
more affluent area around the post office was still heavily guarded by
the military, although remaining areas and streets were charred black and
destroyed, the dismal skeletons of stores set against the first light of
morning in an indescribable bleakness that descended over the entire city.

More than 50,000 people lost their jobs in these few days, a consequence
that in weeks to come will bring further hardship to families unable to
buy food even before the fires.

On May 21, as Suharto's resignation was televised across Indonesia,
there was a sense of disbelief that stretched beyond the dreams of only
a week before. However, the political situation is changing by the moment,
and the future path to democracy is still an uncertainty.

A comment made to me in March by a Javanese student rings more clearly
now. He said, “We won't stop protesting as long as there are still injustices”.
In light of the questionable government now led by Habibie, and the already
proven power of a people's movement that single-handedly toppled Suharto,
perhaps the international community, before blindly supporting the new
government, should listen more closely to the voices of Indonesians that
began to surface in the demonstrations that began many months ago.

I hope that their stories will be heard; they are the people who with
their hope, courage and determination have truly inspired me.

From GLW issue 320