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The Modern Political Economy
New York
1993
4. Creating a Political Machine
Eventually Soeharto had to obtain an electoral mandate to govern. That was clear as early as July 1966 when the Consultative Assembly confirmed his executive authority. The Assembly did so only pro tem, pending elections.
The prospect of an election raised many questions. The country's only experience with national elections in 1955 had not been a positive one. How another round of elections could be held without increasing the divisions in the society, already the cause of so much bloodshed, was indeed questionable. In addition, how could a Parliament be produced that would have a majority capable of governing? The Parliament that resulted from the earlier elections had been unable to deal effectively with any of the country's problems, and had lasted less than eighteen months before collapsing in the face of regional rebellions and Sukarno's call for a "Guided Democracy."
The constitutional situation in 1966 was highly favorable to executive action. In the wake of the rebellions, Sukarno had had broad support among the Java-based parties for his reinstatement of the 1945 constitution as a key element of Guided Democracy. This constitution, written at the start of the independence revolution, provided for a strong central executive. The president was free to select his cabinet members solely on his own authority. The legislature had no power of initiative, but it did have two residual sources of power. Members of Parliament were ex officio members of the Consultative Assembly, which was charged with selecting the president and vice president and with approving the broad lines of government policy. Further, a minority of legislators could forestall a government measure by refusing to go along with the majority--Sukarno's innovation and a central feature of Guided Democracy.
If elections were to be held, many questions had to be dealt with, however. The Consultative Assembly that confirmed Soeharto's executive authority was composed of both elected and appointed members; how seats were to be shared between the two was bound to be controversial. In addition, the electoral law in place in 1955 was based on the principle of proportional representation; now the "action fronts" expressed strong sentiment in favor of single-member constituencies. Moreover, an election meant parties; many were in favor of legalizing the parties Sukarno had banned, and Soeharto faced the decision of whether to launch a party of his own. Finally, the question remained as to the army's role in the elections and in the government that would result.
This was a substantial agenda, and in the wake of Sukarno's fall from power, the general expectation was that the government would now be chosen more democratically. Electoral reform was in the air.
The Experience with Elections
The idea of election to public office was not well grounded in the political ethos of Indonesia. The first Parliament sat for five years, from August 1950 until September 1955, without having any elections other than intraparty elections for party leadership. No one knew how much popular support any of the parties actually had; distribution of seats in the early Parliaments was largely determined by vague considerations of maintaining a balance among ideological, geographic, ethnic, religious, and economic interests. Sukarno himself held the presidency with no more expression of the popular will than the rest.
On September 29, 1955, the first national elections took place for seats in the national Parliament. 1 Several reasons seem to account for why these elections were considered necessary or desirable. One was a sense of national pride; holding elections would demonstrate that Indonesia was worthy of being the independent nation it had insisted on becoming. Another was the more practical belief or hope that elections would bring about a more stable and authoritative government. Coalition cabinets had come and gone with some rapidity, and none had shown itself able to deal with the country's problems, which only continued to grow. The initial Parliament was thought to lack cohesion, in part because it was temporary, and to lack moral authority because it was not truly representative. But the purpose of the elections, or the terms on which they would take place, were at no time debated on a grand scale. Elections had been talked about for years, and in 1955 the country more or less backed into them.
When the time came, the elections took place in conditions of considerable uncertainty. The idea of "one man, one vote" was wholly new to the population, and voting was widely seen as more of a duty than a right. Strenuous appeals were made on religious and ideological grounds, intimidation was widespread, and the electioneering greatly aggravated ideological cleavages within the society on the very purposes of the state. Some members of the elite, judging the election by Western standards, concluded that Indonesia was not ready for democracy.
The new Parliament also did not fulfill the hopes that had been lodged in the electoral process. The cabinet, again a coalition, seemed to have the same problems in reaching decisions as before. The parties themselves lacked cohesion, and ethnic and regional protests soon took the center of the political stage. Groups in Sulawesi and Sumatra, with the public support of local civil and military authorities, defied Jakarta in opening their own foreign trade relations. The cabinet came under increasing criticism for ignoring or protecting high-level corruption. Nasution, the armed forces chief of staff, deplored what he called the selfishness of political leaders and noted the existence of proposals for a junta of military officers or veterans of the revolution. Sukarno took up the cry, announcing that it had been a mistake in 1945 to have urged the establishment of parties. Some new form of government was needed, he said. Not a dictatorship, but democracy with leadership, a "Guided Democracy."
Sensing a power vacuum in Jakarta, military groups expressed their resentment against Nasution, and regional groups demanded autonomy. Hatta resigned the vice presidency, heightening feelings of antagonism against Sukarno and the whole Jakarta establishment in the regions outside Java. Coups followed in several provinces of Sumatra and Sulawesi, where local army officers announced a temporary severance of relations with the central government. The national cabinet resigned. Sukarno proclaimed a nationwide state of war. It was March 1957, not eighteen months since the national elections.
A decade later, this experience remained very much alive in the minds of the elite as the country again faced the need to reconstitute the national government. Yet, there seems to have been no significant opposition to the idea of turning to national elections in order to establish the nation's rightful leadership. Anti-Sukarnoists among the army generals, and leaders of the "action fronts," were concerned to avoid a return to the authoritarian features of Guided Democracy. They also had little confidence in the remaining political parties and their leaders. Attention in these circles focused quickly on how to reform the electoral system.
Proposals for Electoral Reform
The high point of the reform movement was the seminar of military commanders that took place at the Staff and Command School in Bandung in August 1966. Suwarto was now a major general and commandant of the School. In addition to arranging the discussion of the economy that led to the new economic policies, he placed on the agenda a discussion of the electoral system. 2
The antiparty sentiment among senior army officers assembled at the seminar was strong. They acknowledged that elections would have to be held in accordance with the Assembly decision of the previous month. They also recommended rehabilitation of the Socialist and Masyumi parties, which Sukarno had banned because of their leaders' involvement in the "outer island" rebellions. At the same time, the group concluded, "it is very clear that the Panca Sila forces must be victorious in the General Elections." 3
The means selected to assure this victory was a proposed change in the electoral laws. The 1955 Parliament had been elected by proportional representation among provincewide constituencies. This meant that voters were not given the opportunity to select an individual to represent them in the Parliament, but were presented with a choice among parties. The share of the total vote a party received in a province determined the share of the seats allotted to the province that would be filled by that party. Seats were filled according to rank in a party list that party leaders prepared in advance of the election. The system placed considerable power in the hands of party leaders. It also tended to favor a multiplicity of parties and to lead to coalition governments. In the circumstances of 1966, this system would assure that the remaining legal parties would win an overwhelming majority of seats in the Parliament, that the large number of voters in Java would place many Sukarnoists among the winners, and that the army's civilian allies among the urban "action fronts" would attract only a small minority of the votes among the largely rural electorate.
The seminar concluded that the next elections should be conducted on the basis of single-member constituencies, and that an eligible candidate should have lived in the constituency for at least one year. The result would be to reduce the power of party leaders, and open up the prospect that popular local personalities, not allied with any party, would win some seats, further reducing the role of parties in the legislature. The plan followed the lines of a presentation made to the seminar by Sarbini Sumawinata, an economist of the University of Indonesia, who had long been identified with the banned Socialist Party, and who was a long-time friend of Major General Suwarto.
Soeharto took no position on these plans. According to one man involved in the process, he simply let the idea go forward. A general elections bill providing for single-member constituencies was drawn up and presented to the Parliament early in 1967. Another bill provided that all representative institutions--the Consultative Assembly, the Parliament, and local bodies--would be composed of members only half of whom would represent political parties. The other half would represent "functional groups," and half of these, in turn, would be appointed to represent the armed forces, whose members would have no vote in the elections. A third bill established conditions for the recognition of political parties and functional groups, and was seen as an effort to reduce the number of parties.
The bills ran into a storm of criticism in the Parliament, and Soeharto decided to negotiate. On July 27, 1967, a compromise was announced. Soeharto agreed that the system of proportional representation would remain. The parties agreed that the government would have the right to appoint one-third of the members of the Consultative Assembly, and 100 members, or 22 percent, of the 460-member Parliament. The Assembly was of central interest to Soeharto, because under the prevailing 1945 constitution it was the body that would decide the future of the presidency. But unless he was to attempt to rule by decree, as Sukarno had done, he also had to take seriously the composition of the Parliament. One senior political aide later said it would have been "easy" for Soeharto to have assumed dictatorial powers, even before March 11, 1966, but it is doubtful that Soeharto was strong enough to do so at that point. Nor did he seem inclined by nature to face down harsh critics a year later when compromise was an available alternative.
The compromise disappointed a good many New Order figures, including at least three senior army generals. Nasution, Kemal Idris, and Dharsono had all argued strongly for the single-member constituency. In Bandung, General Dharsono, commander of the Siliwangi Division, was not ready to concede the fight. He had wanted a two-party system, and he was determined to get it. Putting pressure on local party leaders, he forced the formation of two groups in the district boards of the province, one representing the government, the other the opposition. But by this time Soeharto was committed to cooperation with the parties. When party leaders protested, Dharsono was ordered to stop. Dharsono was then sent off to Bangkok as ambassador, and Kemal Idris was assigned to the East Indonesia command headquartered in distant Makassar.
In retrospect, it seems doubtful that Soeharto was ever committed to this effort to reform the system essentially along Western legal lines. The supporters of reform were all prominent figures in or alumni of the Siliwangi Division, and included no one with long experience in Central Java such as himself. In addition, the reform would have meant a large step in an uncharted direction, with possible outcomes no one could foresee--not the sort of action with which Soeharto usually associated himself. It also remains an open question as to whether the plan would have given the country a more coherent parliamentary system than what had gone before. The parties, including those that had been banned, remained a social reality in the minds of many of their followers. In addition, in the Consultative Assembly, which had confirmed Soeharto's executive authority and was the only body that could settle the succession to the presidency under the constitution, the remaining legal parties were a political reality. It is difficult to see how Soeharto could have ignored the parties at this point unless he were prepared to declare himself president, and this he was wise enough not to do.
Old Parties in the New Order
The compromise reached on the electoral system did not carry with it any intended departure from the basic principle agreed on at the army seminar in Bandung. When elections were held, it was intended that Soeharto's forces would win. That did not rule out a working relationship with the parties and their leaders.
This did not seem to Soeharto and his advisers too much to expect. The political parties had already lost much of their independence and prestige after the institution of Guided Democracy in 1959. They had come to look to Sukarno for approval of their plans, and to depend even more than before on government subsidies and licenses. The subsidies and licenses continued after 1966, or, where they had been halted, were soon resumed.
There were three parties of consequence. Two of these, the National Party and the Nahdatul Ulama, were parties that had their strength in Java, had been willing participants in Sukarno's Guided Democracy, and included among their leaders some who seemed likely to accept an accommodation with the new regime. The third case was more problematical. This was the Masyumi, the large Islamic grouping that had its principal strength in the "outer islands," had been banned as a result of some of its leaders' involvement in the 1958 rebellion, and represented a stream of Indonesian society and of political thinking with which Soeharto and his associates were much less familiar. 4
The National Party (Partai Nasional Indonesia , or PNI ) was of the greatest interest to Soeharto. It had a large following in Central and East Java, provided the only major balance to Muslim interests, and also was a possible link with followers of the banned Communist party. The National Party had divided into two factions even before the attempted coup over the issue of cooperation with the Communists under Sukarno's Nasakom formula. The anticommunist faction held a party congress as early as April 1966, which opened with an address by Soeharto and voted out of party office all the leaders of the "progressive" faction. Army regional commanders reinforced this direction of the party's affairs by taking a wide range of actions against provincial branches that remained strongly pro-Sukarno. By the time the party held a preelection congress in 1970, and under a good deal of pressure from Soeharto's personal assistant, Ali Moertopo, the party elected an old Soeharto acquaintance as its leader. He was Hadisubeno, who had been mayor of Semarang in the late 1950s when Soeharto was the commander of the Diponegoro Division and had his headquarters in the same city. 5
The Nahdatul Ulama was not a political party in the same sense as the others. It was led by traditional religious teachers, chiefly the heads of significant Islamic schools in rural Java. It had the reputation of accommodating itself to the national political leadership of the day. Although there was some interest among Soeharto associates in seeing a change in the party's leadership--Subchan, the staunch anticommunist, was a favorite in these circles--the old guard under Idham Chalid seems to have had no great difficulty in fending off outside intervention. At the same time, Idham Chalid and his associates had no problem in making peace with Soeharto and his staff.
The former leaders of the Masyumi had welcomed Sukarno's fall and at first expected to regain their former positions of national prominence. Their followers were too numerous to be ignored, and the army seminar had recommended that the ban on the party should be lifted. Soeharto refused to act, however, on the grounds that army officers and men had died in putting down the rebellion, and that he owed it to their memory to see that their deaths were not in vain. A long series of negotiations took place, first to determine how the Masyumi might be replaced by a new party, and then over whether its former leaders could hold office in the new grouping. Soeharto refused to budge on the latter issue. When the new Indonesian Muslim Party was finally recognized, and leaders amenable to the government were in place, again with the active involvement of Ali Moertopo, the result satisfied no one. The new party did not attract much of the old Masyumi following, and this large and influential group remained unintegrated into the new regime. 6
Thus, well before elections took place, the political parties had been considerably domesticated by the Soeharto administration. If the government needed partners after elections, partners would be available. And if decisions were to be reached by consensus, the parties would, within broad limits, be amenable.
Election Versus Appointment
Initially some of Soeharto's civilian supporters suggested that a new party be organized to run progovernment candidates for election to the Parliament. This "independent group" included a number of prominent intellectuals, most of them former leaders of the "action fronts," now holding appointments to Parliament or, in a few cases, to high posts in the new administration. 7 Why they failed to persuade Soeharto is not entirely clear. One member of the group has suggested that Soeharto found the idea too Western, and some of those behind it too Western in their orientation. 8 But the principal reason seems to have been that the notion was too abstract and its proponents had no proven record. The existing parties had their roots in identifiable sections of the Indonesian population. Exactly how this new party would relate to these multiple divisions of Indonesian society was not clear. So Soeharto held off giving his personal endorsement to the "independent group" and their plans.
Another possible move was to enter into a partnership with one of the existing parties, such as the National Party or the new Muslim Party, either before or after elections. The possible need for a coalition with one of the parties acted as a brake on army militants, who were taking action against the parties in various parts of the country and urging action against them at the national level. The same concern led the Soeharto group to carry on extended negotiations, initially in the Parliament, and subsequently outside it, over the allocation of elective and appointive seats. However the government might campaign in an election, it did not know how it would fare. It might need appointed members of the legislature to enable it to build a majority to govern, with or without a party as partner.
As these negotiations dragged on into late 1969, Soeharto's political advisers were urging him to postpone the elections, now scheduled for July 1971. They told Soeharto they were not ready for elections. But Soeharto already had gained valuable time. His economic program was showing results: inflation had been halted and a new five-year development program was under way, inaugurated on his insistence a year or two before his economic team was entirely ready. By this time domestic stability had also greatly improved; Soeharto had the armed forces under control, the parties were cooperating, and the "action fronts" had fallen away considerably. In addition, the UN-supervised voting in West Irian had just been successfully completed. Thus Soeharto had reason to feel that the time was as good as it was likely to be. He told his political advisers that people would soon be calling him a dictator if he did not go ahead with the elections as planned.
In October 1969, apparently against his staff's advice, Soeharto met with the leaders of the nine legal parties and suggested they formalize the 1967 agreement on the issue of elective versus appointive seats and proceed with the elections on schedule. On November 22, the Parliament unanimously passed revised bills on the elections and on the structure of both the Consultative Assembly and the Parliament. Functional groups were allotted appointed seats throughout the structure: 307, or one-third, of the 920 seats of the Consultative Assembly; 100, or 22 percent, of the 460 seats of the Parliament; and 22 percent of the seats in local representative bodies at the provincial, city, and district levels. 9
At about this same time Ali Moertopo began to develop a capacity, within the army's organization of allied "functional groups," to wage an electoral campaign on behalf of the government. Characteristically, no documentation appears to exist, and no elaborate instructions seem to have been given. According to at least one associate who claims to have been present, Soeharto simply asked Moertopo to see what he could do.
The Idea of Functional Groups
The idea of providing a role for "functional groups" in Indonesia's political system was one that had some history. The term itself might have originated with Sukarno. As early as the 1920s Sukarno's vision of Indonesian unity had led him to see the desirability of a single, all-encompassing political party, "a state within a state." He had initially seen the National Party as providing the basis for such a single state party, in which representatives would be drawn from groups that were defined in terms of social or economic functions, rather than religion or ideology. Hatta and others had refused to accept this proposal in the early days after independence was declared. 10
The constitution of 1945 nevertheless provided for the representation of groups other than political parties in the highest organ of the state. The constitution provided that the People's Consultative Assembly, which would elect the president and set the main lines of state policy, would be composed of the members of the Council of People's Representatives, which was the Parliament, plus "delegates of the regions and of groups." An elucidation of the constitution explained that the term groups referred to workers' groups, cooperatives, and other collective organizations.
In 1958, after Sukarno had made his "bury the political parties" speech and had introduced his concept of Guided Democracy, an agreement was reached to give functional groups half the seats in the Parliament. The candidates of these groups were to be nominated through a National Front that Sukarno would lead. A long list of functional groups was agreed on: workers, employers, farmers, religious teachers, members of the professions, regional representatives, youth, women--and members of the armed forces.
The inclusion of the armed forces in the 1958 list of officially recognized functional groups gave the army its first legally sanctioned role in national politics. The role suited Nasution's ideas about the army's place in politics. In addition, the army had already been developing friendly organizations in a variety of fields as part of its developing contest with the Communist party. The core group was an army-sponsored labor federation, composed of twenty-five organizations of workers and officials of government-run firms and plantations. A coordinating secretariat was formed in 1964. The groups themselves were now officially known as "Functional Groups," or Golongan Karya , which in common usage was shortened to "Golkar."
When the transfer of authority to Soeharto took place, the Parliament included a large number of "functional group" representatives. Although many were representatives of groups affiliated with the political parties, Soeharto was able to appoint his own in filling vacancies from 1966 on. In addition, by the time Soeharto had decided to make an electoral machine of such groups, some senior army officers had been at work developing these organizations for up to a dozen years. Soeharto himself had urged the armed services as early as 1966 to provide all possible facilities for the development of these groups. A report by the Golkar secretariat announced that its affiliated organizations had increased from 64 in 1965 to 128 in 1966, and to 252 in 1967.
The secretariat was firmly under army control; six of its seven divisions were headed by military officers. Nevertheless, the prospect of turning this unwieldy federation into a machine capable of winning an election was awesome. According to his associates, Ali Moertopo had no respect for the official leadership of Golkar at this point, and went about his task by leaving the formal structure in place and creating a new organization within it to manage the election campaign. Moertopo's aim was to create a new kind of party, committed to modernization and led by civilian intellectuals, such as those now holding appointive positions in the Parliament and leading the prodevelopment forces there. The weapons of victory, however, were to be the army, the civil service, and the state corporations.
Winning the Election
On December 4, 1969, Amir Machmud, now Minister of the Interior and presiding over all provincial and local governments, issued a regulation prohibiting all functional group members in local councils from retaining membership in political parties. This prohibition did not extend to Golkar; by the government's definition, Golkar was not a political party. In effect, the new regulation meant that all seats allocated to functional groups would henceforth be filled by representatives of Golkar functional groups. 11
On February 11, 1970, Machmud prohibited all civil servants from engaging in political activities that might "damage their positions as civil servants," and barred all top-ranking civil servants from belonging to "political organizations." Machmud soon took the further step of requiring all officials in his own department to sever their ties with any party except Golkar; in addition, he encouraged them to join two new organizations under his control, the Home Affairs Department Employees Association for men, and a parallel association for their wives and female officials. All government agencies were soon pressured to follow this example, and by the time elections took place practically all government agencies and institutions had organized similar associations, from the public schools to the state corporations.
The election machinery was in the hands of a General Elections Institute attached to the Ministry of the Interior and chaired by its minister. Committees at all lower levels--province, city, district, subdistrict, and village--were chaired by the senior government executive of the area. In the words of Masashi Nishihara: "In effect, the General Elections Institute assumed the character of a military command with local chief executives as local commanders and election committees as their staffs." 12
Many of the executives involved were, in fact, military officers on temporary assignment to civil government positions. Of the 26 provincial governors, 20 were military men, as were 26 of the 53 city mayors and 116 of the 228 district heads. In addition, a military security organization was given responsibility to screen the qualifications of candidates, as a result of which an initial total of 3,789 candidates was reduced to 3,021; the largest numbers of disqualifications were among candidates of the National Party and the new Muslim Party. The central intelligence agency, also under army leadership, took regular soundings of Golkar's prospects.
Election committees were buttressed on election day by substantial security forces. Not only were all four armed services mobilized for the purpose; some two million members of the civil defense corps and similar groups, responsible for village security under army territorial commanders, were mobilized as well.
Golkar also fielded the largest number of candidates, at or close to the legal maximum in every constituency. Its candidates also included the highest percentage of college graduates. Golkar rallies were large and well organized. They obviously were also well financed, reportedly with substantial help from Pertamina, the state oil company.
So strenuously did Ali Moertopo pursue his mission that in the opinion of Nishihara: "By the time the formal campaign period began, Golkar had finished its essential electioneering effort." 13
Still another factor influencing the outcome of the popular vote was the concept of the "floating mass." The essential element underlying this concept was the concern that the rural population, especially that of Central and East Java and of Bali, was in serious danger of being divided on ideological grounds as it had been in 1955 and again in 1965. The view among a number of civilian intellectuals and army officers surrounding Soeharto was that this had to be avoided at all costs. 14 It did not require a sophisticated analyst to see that a Golkar slate would face the same potential difficulties that had been seen in the idea of the "action fronts" for a new party. A new party might carry some cities and towns. But how would any new party, including Golkar, fare in the countryside where the vast majority of votes was to be found? The answer was to deny the old-line parties the advantage of representation in rural areas, and to reduce the period for electioneering in rural areas to a minimum--in short, to assure the government the rural vote in advance.
In the event, in 25 provinces, where 351 seats were contested in direct elections, Golkar won 227 seats, or 65 percent of the total. In the one remaining province, West Irian, where seats were contested by an indirect method, Golkar won all 9. With 100 additional seats to be filled by presidential appointment, the government's position in the Parliament was overwhelming.
The Fruits of Victory
What did the elections signify? Probably they reflected a consensus in support of the Soeharto government's priorities of political stability and economic development. Other evidence, including public criticism from the Left and the Right, indicated that opinion within the elite supported these broad aims. Some thought the government might even have won a majority of the contested seats in a fair vote. But manipulation was so pervasive that even the government was denied the satisfaction of knowing.
The government's heavy-handed manner of victory also led to outcomes that might not have been anticipated. Elections were now viewed as symbolic. The government intended to win, and it had done so overwhelmingly. Thus the role of elections was changed from what it had been, at least on the one occasion of 1955; from now on elections would not be seen as conferring authority on the government, but rather as merely acknowledging the power the government already had accumulated. As grounds for authority, the government would need to look elsewhere--particularly to its pledge to bring about higher economic growth and a wider distribution of the benefits.
The elections also marked the end of political parties as central to the governance of the country. The elections confirmed that the legally recognized political parties were without strong roots in the society; their leaders could be manipulated at will; and the parties themselves could be safely ignored as significant participants in the political process. The government subsequently forced the parties to merge into two "factions" in the Parliament, in order to "simplify the administration" of that institution, and the Parliament itself ceased to perform any significant function. The government also banned political activity between elections in the villages, depriving the rural population of its rights to permanent membership in a political party. In every meaning of the word, politics was now dead.
The election deprived even the government of a political party, and this was a more serious matter. While arguably Golkar did resemble, on paper, the homogenized party of functional groups Sukarno had visualized, it was no more a political party than the newly minted Muslim Party was, and was even less of a party than the National Party had become. Until fairly late in the Soeharto era, Golkar did not even have individual members; in its formal structure it remained a federation of associations, and in actual function an election machine that was cranked up once every five years. Thus the opportunity was missed to create a vehicle for participation and information, and public affairs remained every bit as Jakarta-centered as they had ever been. Equally serious, the opportunity to create a means of managing leadership transition was also missed, and the problem of presidential succession remained so sizable that confronting it was continually postponed.
The election also created a coalition of mutual dependency on the part of Soeharto, the army, the civil service, the state corporations, and the technocrats. While Soeharto and the army were clearly more powerful than the rest, none of these elements of the regime was able to function with complete independence from the others. Each had its own interests, and pursuing them depended on the cooperation of one or more of the others. In addition, none was monolithic internally. Factions within Soeharto's personal staff and cabinet rose in prominence over time. Factions within the army continued to be significant for quite some years. Some departments of the government, which came to be dominated by one army group or another, proved equally difficult to bring or keep under central direction. A few state corporations became so large and wealthy that many saw them functioning as states within the state. Technocrats also became more variegated over time. Managing relations among all these groups occupied an increasing portion of the president's time.
Given his penchant for negotiation and compromise, Soeharto himself tended to reinforce the strengths and weaknesses of this thoroughly bureaucratic regime. What he lacked in the way of Sukarno's personal vivacity and rhetorical skill, he more than made up for with organization and money. While some complained that Soeharto lacked charisma or that he had no vision of the country's future, many more found the new government, and the style of the man who led it, comfortably predictable.
Controlling the Civil Service
Not many months after the elections, the government moved to place the civil service on permanent basis as a political arm of the regime. The various groups that had sprung up in government departments and enterprises in the first half of 1971, and that had campaigned for the government in the elections, were abolished in December. In their place a single, all-embracing organization was established for all government employees. This was the Korps Karyawan Pegawai Republic Indonesia --the Corps of Civil Servants of the Republic of Indonesia, commonly known as Korpri . The Corps was organized along the same lines as Golkar, with a leadership council chaired by the Minister of the Interior, Amir Machmud, and identical structures all the way down the line to every village. Included were not only the members of administrative services, but every public school teacher and state corporation employee as well. Overnight the Corps became the ultimate "functional group."
A parallel organization of women, the Dharma Wanita , also was formed for the wives of civil servants. Rank in the organization was determined by one's husband's rank in the government. Thus, women worked in the organization under the direction of the wives of their husbands' superiors. Some confusion and tension arose when wives themselves were government employees. In government offices, however, men predominated in the more senior positions. In all the higher civil service ranks, less than 10 percent were female. In the very highest ranks, held by 160 individuals in 1981, only 9 were female. 15 So the senior civil service remained very much a male preserve, and the impact of Dharma Wanita was to bureaucratize the social life of civil service families.
Perhaps the ultimate expression of the bureaucratization of social life was a presidential regulation of 1983 regarding the marriage and divorce of civil servants at all levels down to village heads and their staffs. The regulation required all such personnel to report their marriage in writing "through hierarchical channels," to obtain a senior official's approval in advance of a divorce, and to obtain similar approval of a marriage to a second, third, or fourth wife. 16 The regulation also included procedures designed to protect the rights of spouses, which was evidently its principal purpose.
The campaign to win the 1971 elections also marked the beginning of a renaissance in government employment as a prominent element in the Indonesian social system. As a core group of the new regime, the civil service was no longer railed against, but cultivated. Now that its loyalty was assured, it received attention and investment. Yet, within its strictly hierarchical structure, the civil service also had to be modernized. At the same time that the ethos of the bureaucracy spread further into the social life of the families associated with it, the bureaucracy had to be made more efficient, or at least more effective.
The Colonial Civil Service
The delayed modernization of the Indonesian civil service was a heritage of its own distant past and of the country's more recent history as a Dutch colony. Of traditional government in Java, Sir Stamford Raffles had written in 1817:
The government is in principle a pure unmixed despotism; but there are customs of the country of which the people are very tenacious, and which the sovereign seldom invades. His subjects have no rights of liberty of person or property: his breath can raise the humblest individual from the dust to the highest distinction, or wither the honours of the most exalted. There is no hereditary rank, nothing to oppose his will. Not only honours, posts, and distinctions, depend upon his pleasure, but all the landed property of his dominions remains at his disposal, and may, together with its cultivators, be parcelled out by his order among the officers of his household, the members of his family, the ministers of his pleasures, or the useful servants of the state. Every officer is paid by grants of land, or by a power to receive from the peasantry a certain proportion of the produce of certain villages or districts. 17
The Dutch did little to disturb this system until late in the colonial era. Militarily weak and financially parsimonious, they held to a theory of "like over like." When the first detailed colonial regulations were approved in 1854, they provided that the native population was to continue to be supervised by its own governing aristocracy. The native rulers were given the grand title of Pangreh Praja , or Rulers of the Realm, and, to the rural population of Java, were a feared and admired ruling class. But to the Dutch they were the inlandsch bestuur , the "native administration," the lower level of local government. Toward the end of the century, they lost their ex-officio right to land and to the personal service of the local population. Slowly, in the words of Heather Sutherland, "Javanese warrior-chiefs, living off the tribute of their people, were becoming salaried Malay-writing clerks, agricultural overseers and colonial policemen." 18
The modernization of this local government apparatus began only in the twentieth century. Salaried clerkships were created only in 1910. General government administration was separated in the same year from specialized economic functions, such as the salt and opium monopolies, coffee warehouses, pawnshops, and irrigation services. In 1913 the first requirements other than high birth were established for new district heads, including some formal education and an ability to speak and understand Dutch. In 1917 all sixty-five district heads of Java and Madura came from highborn families; almost all had inherited their office from a father or other close relative; only ten had attended secondary school. 19
These late and hesitant steps to modernize the native administration represented the high point of progressive Dutch policy. Communist uprisings in the 1920s and the depression of the 1930s provided ample grounds for the colony's managers to halt the process of decentralization and devolution. In 1936 Governor-General B. C. de Jonge was able to say in an interview that considering the limited progress the Dutch had been able to make in three hundred years in the Indies, probably another three hundred would be needed before they were "ready for some kind of autonomy." 20
By this time, however, the whole archaic system was under pressure--from the Dutch, who saw the local administrators as ineffective and inefficient, and from the increasing ranks of Indonesian nationalists, who saw them as agents of an alien regime. 21
Independence and the Civil Service
Following independence, these previous views of the civil service persisted. Most people saw government employment as a sign of superior social status; moreover, the prestige that accompanied a government position, however menial, was shared by all the relatives, friends, and neighbors of the individual fortunate enough to obtain an appointment. The political elite, largely government employees themselves, tended to see their rank as justified by their birth, education, and connections. Many of the same individuals saw the civil service as an object of manipulation, or as an obstacle to modernization, and frequently as both. As a result, the bureaucracy expanded rapidly in the early years of independence, while political party leaders played a major role in public management, and also faced a whole range of critics--army officers, student leaders, technocrats--in the new atmosphere of the late 1960s.
In 1951 it was acknowledged that "at the present time the government does not know how many public servants it actually has working in its agencies." 22 At the end of 1953 the Central Bureau of Statistics put the number at 1.7 million, not counting members of the armed services. The total included 270,000 civilian employees of the central government; 229,000 employees of provinces, cities, and rural districts; 462,000 village officials; an additional 469,000 regular daily workers without civil service status, including 200,000 in the forest service alone; and 195,000 others employed by various government enterprises, among them the railways, the postal service, agricultural estates, and tin and coal mines. 23
There is a paucity of data on the size of the armed forces at this time. The police numbered 100,000, and one estimate put the army at about 200,000. There seems no question that, in the first years of national independence, the armed services, including the police, employed more personnel than all the civil departments of the central government put together.
These numbers in the civil departments increased annually and more or less across the board until 1958, and then, reflecting the regional rebellion and the economic depression that followed, declined to well below their 1953 levels by the early 1960s. 24 This was not the case with the armed forces, however, which continued to grow under the impetus of the demands placed on them--putting down the "outer island" rebellion, then the West Irian campaign, and, finally, the anti-Malaysia confrontation--so that their uniformed personnel numbered nearly 600,000 by the mid-1960s. 25 The sheer physical presence of these men in uniform among the personnel working directly for the central government was now vastly greater than ever before.
In addition, the civil service was demoralized by the inflation that occurred from the early 1960s through 1966, and by the arrests and dismissals of known or suspected leftists after the attempted coup. How many were dismissed is unknown. One report said twenty-three thousand were dismissed between 1965 and 1967, or about 1.5 percent of the payroll, which hardly constitutes much of a purge. 26 Nevertheless, the civil service suffered a considerable loss in its ability to perform even routine tasks. During the first several years of the First Five-Year Plan, which began in 1969, most development projects were three to nine months late in starting, and this in turn created massive confusion when budgets terminated at the end of each fiscal year. The government raised salaries gradually, but no improvement in performance was apparent. 27
Changing the Civil Service
Over the course of the 1970s and 1980s the civil service was to change markedly. First, its size in total numbers expanded rapidly. Members of the civil service proper at all levels of administration had declined from 855,000 in 1953 to 608,000 in 1963. At this time, even the statistical services of the central government broke down, and no data were ever published for 1964, 1965, or 1966. By 1967 the numbers began to rise again, and rapidly--to 1.6 million in 1974, and to 2.7 million in 1984. 28 Thus during only two decades, from 1963 to 1984, the civil service increased in size more than four times. This growth rate far exceeded that of the population increase and was about equal to the rate of increase in the Gross National Product. The numbers of civil servants have continued to grow since. By 1986 the total well exceeded 3.0 million.
Meanwhile, the composition of the civil service changed in two significant respects. As late as 1974, at the end of the First Five-Year Plan, the civil service was still shaped like a pyramid with the largest number of personnel in the lowest ranks, which required little or no education. But employees in these ranks declined in number in the years that followed. Employees in the middle and higher ranks increased from three to five times within the decade to 1984. Inasmuch as the middle ranks required some secondary school education, and the higher ranks a college degree, a massive change was brought about in the educational level of the civil service as a whole in the short span of ten years. Since most positions in the higher ranks were in the upper reaches of departmental headquarters and specialized agencies in Jakarta, a side effect was to bleed the provinces of skills and talent.
The changes in the civil service were made possible by an equally massive change in the educational system. The department of education experienced a fortyfold increase in personnel from the number it employed in 1953, making it far and away the largest employer in the country, with a total of 1.7 million employees by March 31, 1986. This dramatic expansion was made possible principally by the windfall profits from high oil prices from 1974 on. Most of the increase in employment took place in elementary schools and junior secondary schools. This reflected not only the severely limited educational opportunities that had been available to children of the poor prior to this time, but was also the result of a policy that made universal primary education the government's first educational priority.
Thus a government that had come into office with highly negative views of the civil service, and amid much talk of reductions in its scale, not only did not act on these initial ideas but, in fact, moved in the opposite direction. Political stability and economic development--in about equal measure--provided the incentives. Foreign aid, beginning in 1967, and oil money, beginning in 1973, provided the means.
The marriage of the civil service and the government party, Golkar, was to prove enduring. In the 1982 parliamentary elections, about 62 percent of Golkar's candidates came from the government bureaucracy. 29
These features of Indonesia's civil service--its size, social prestige, and political role--are not unique to that country. On all these counts, the Indonesian civil service conforms to a general pattern, elements of which are evident elsewhere in Southeast Asia. What mainly distinguishes the Indonesian case is the degree to which the civil service has been penetrated and led by officers of the armed forces. 30
Scaling Back the Armed Forces
It is one of the ironies of Indonesian history that Soeharto succeeded in accomplishing Nasution's long-term aims with respect to the country's armed forces. He reduced the size of all four services and turned them into more professional institutions. He also introduced officers of each service, and particularly army officers, into every aspect of government.
Nasution had failed to obtain cabinet approval of his plans for a major "rationalization" of the armed forces in 1953. Soeharto brought this about. According to one standard source, Indonesia's armed forces numbered 358,000 men in 1970, and declined to 250,000 in 1978. As a percentage of Indonesia's population, the armed forces numbered about the same as those of India in 1970 and were smaller most years thereafter. On the same scale, they were already smaller in number than those of any other Southeast Asian country in 1970, with the sole exception of the Philippines, and, by 1974, were smaller than those of the Philippines as well. 31
Undoubtedly, cost was a factor. Official data show military spending declining as a percentage of central government expenditures--from 24.5 percent in 1970 to 15.0 percent in 1978 (and 8.4 percent in 1988). 32 Official reports of military expenditures are notoriously unreliable, however, and those of Indonesia have been widely assumed to be highly incomplete, especially for the early Soeharto years. Public statements by official and semiofficial sources in 1969 and 1970 indicated that only a third to a half of the armed forces' operating requirements were being met by the government budget in those years. 33 It is assumed that most of the remainder came from the profits of state enterprises, particularly from the largest and most powerful among them, the state oil company, Pertamina, whose chief executive reported directly to the president; the accounts of this and other state enterprises have never been made public. Additional funds came to the armed forces, at least for a period of years, from a number of corporations, cooperatives, and foundations established for the purpose, although not all were successful business ventures.
The retirement of armed services personnel, particularly the most senior among them, also was facilitated by widespread use of government connections to obtain licenses, contracts, bank loans, and import credits for private firms established by individual officers, often in partnership with local Chinese businessmen. A few cases involved elements of fraud that led to financial collapse and major public scandals. Other avenues of fund-raising ran from smuggling to overpricing equipment imports for the military. The problem was sufficiently widespread as early as 1968 that a group of Western businessmen, in a confidential report to Soeharto, warned him: "The chief threat to long-term stability . . . is abuse of power by military officers and the expansion of their vested interests, particularly in the economic realm, which could give rise to resentment and rebellion should the economic situation deteriorate." 34
What the foreign businessmen were reflecting was the common opinion of prominent civilians whom they knew or met in the course of their brief visit. The civilian elite of Jakarta and other cities was still living in extremely modest circumstances at the time. The sudden emergence of army officers as patrons of the country's leading hotels, restaurants, and resorts was widely remarked on. Army personnel usually wore combat uniforms of dark green even when not on duty, following the style of Soeharto in this period. In addition, their official vehicles were utility models painted a distinctive dark green. There was no mistaking an army officer who was using his official vehicle for a private outing during off-duty hours. "Green shirts" became a way of referring to the army in private conversation that had a definite edge to it.
From the beginning the elite tended to see only the most grievous cases of army corruption as "excesses." The implication was that a certain amount of corruption was to be expected. The pattern was certainly well established. The benefices granted by the kings and sultans of Java to their friends and relatives were continued, in effect, by a series of later extractive rulers, from the officers of the Dutch East Indies Company to the leaders of the political parties of independence. Martial law, and particularly the years of Guided Democracy and economic depression that followed, provided army officers with the opportunity, and the need, to do as others had done before them. Many members of the elite were prepared to accept a certain amount of this behavior as something to be expected of those in power. Eventually, however, as it became known that financial corruption was occurring on a grand scale, student critics elevated the problem to a moral issue, and, as the foreign businessmen had predicted, it led to the regime's first political crisis. 35
Militarizing the Government
At the same time that armed forces personnel were gradually eased into retirement, still others were placed on temporary assignment in the civil administration and the state corporations. Nasution had called for such a military role as early as 1958. Given his strong opinion that the armed forces were too large to be made a credible modern fighting force, and his equally strong opinion that politicians were self-seeking and incapable of giving the country an effective government, it is not surprising that he also believed the armed forces should be put to work in the government. He was aware, however, of the limitations of military dictatorships, particularly as they had functioned in Latin America. His "middle way" was an alternative to either a wholly civilian or wholly military government; it was to be a shared partnership between the two. 36
The establishment of Guided Democracy introduced representatives of the armed forces by appointment into the Parliament and Consultative Assembly, and into civil administrative positions. By 1965 many of Sukarno's cabinet members, and half the provincial governors, were military men. The assignment of military personnel to positions in civil administration appears not to have become a generalized phenomenon in this period, however. Nasution himself was removed as army commander in 1962, and his successor, Yani, was much less forceful a personality. The Nasution program also was set back by the death in 1963 of the first minister, Djuanda, who had managed the executive machinery of government and whose relations with the army leadership were well established. 37
After March 1966 Soeharto resumed the program of assigning military personnel to previously civilian posts, and did so with vigor. Official data have never been made public, and the full picture remains unknown. From a number of studies of appointments at senior levels, however, it is clear that military penetration of the civil apparatus has been massive.
The army was already in a strong minority position in the cabinet by the end of the Sukarno period. No military officer had been at the head of a civil government department until 1957. Thereafter, the percentage increased almost annually, reaching 41 percent in 1964-65. After Soeharto became acting president in 1967, military officers at the head of civilian departments rose to 44 percent, and fifteen years later, in 1982, reached 47 percent. 38
A brief experiment was tried with cabinets that were predominantly civilian in their membership. After 1967 and up to 1973, military appointments to the cabinet declined steeply to 18 percent. Civilians who held academic degrees, and most of whom had no party affiliation, increased in the same period from 38 percent to 77 percent. 39 This was to be the peak period of technocratic influence in the government of Indonesia. The enhancement of the civilian role probably reflected army confidence following the 1971 victory at the polls, and the crucial role that foreign economic aid was playing in the government's development program. The return to a larger military role probably was a result of the 1974 student riots, and the sharp increase in the price of oil in world markets the same year.
Data on the army's role in subcabinet positions prior to 1967 appear not to be available. It has been reported that in 1967 more than half the secretaries general of central government departments were military personnel, as were almost half the directors general and inspectors general as well. 40 As occurred at the cabinet level, military men in these posts also dropped in or after 1971, from 55 percent to 41 percent, and then increased again dramatically to 89 percent in 1982. The levels in other senior positions also rose or held more or less as they had been. 41
In addition, as we have seen, military officers were early in gaining appointments to governorships in the wake of the regional rebellion. Several were in place in the early 1960s, and the percentage rose quickly thereafter to 48 percent in 1965, 68 percent in 1968, and all but a small fraction by the 1970s. The ubiquity of army officers in these posts was reflected in a private joke that circulated in the early 1970s: "Under colonialism, we had a governor-general; now that we're independent, we have general-governors." 42
Much scattered evidence indicates that the presence of military personnel at other key levels of territorial administration also was increasing steadily in this period. Data collected by several analysts showed that military men filled about 20 percent of the offices of town mayors and district heads in provinces studied in 1965, a figure that reached 54 percent nationwide in 1969, and climbed as high as 59-84 percent in provinces studied in the early 1970s. 43
In addition, in areas seen as politically unstable or insecure, military penetration was even deeper. In Central and East Java, for example, in the wake of the mass violence of late 1965, Soeharto ordered the creation of an army structure parallel to the civilian administration all the way down to every village. At the subdistrict level, a command post was established with three senior noncommissioned officers. No villager could travel without its approval. 44
By the late 1980s the practice of appointment of military personnel to civil office was highly institutionalized. An assistant chief of staff was fully occupied with the program. Numerous positions at home and abroad came to be regarded as armed forces preserves. All indications were that the army expected the program to continue indefinitely. The average rank of officers assigned to senior civil service posts rose. Officers selected for appointment to the Parliament were given public assurances that they would not suffer any unfavorable discrimination in terms of promotions. Many of those in high administrative posts stayed on through retirement.
This militarization of the government was, predictably, not widely popular in civilian circles. Even civilian cabinet officers did not hesitate to express their concern about the phenomenon in private conversation. But no one was prepared to make it a public issue. The official explanation was that experienced managers were in short supply among the civilian population. It also was suggested that military men were looked to in the early Soeharto years as a means of stiffening the spine of the bureaucracy, to assure that policy decisions were implemented down the line. But such thinking was not supported by the historical record. On the contrary, the rapid increase of civilians in high office after the 1971 elections suggests that personnel policy changed principally as a result of political events. The 1971 elections, despite all the heavy-handedness, were seen as a victory for civilian elements within the regime. The 1974 riots, however, overrode the prior civilian contributions. When the youth of the capital were in the streets, the armed forces were the ultimate political resource. Soeharto understood this as well as anyone. Militarization of the government had little to do with management experience. It was the outcome of the government's failure to assure its future by other means.
Nevertheless, one problem with this "solution" would have to be faced eventually. The retired officers in civil posts were aging, with long experience in political and economic affairs. The men commanding the major field units and filling the major staff positions of the army and other services were all much younger men, who had considerably more professional military training, and who also had much less experience in political and economic affairs. How long this younger generation would be content to see the senior posts in government continue in the hands of older retired officers, while they were by implication left to deal with strictly military matters, was uncertain. A series of confidential surveys was said to show that younger officers were becoming impatient to see the looming generational change discussed and planned for. At the same time, as the armed forces declined in numbers and as military tasks became more demanding of technical skills, the cost of deputation to civil posts was growing in terms of the operations of the armed forces as military institutions. Eventually the "recivilianization" of the government, on some significant scale, had to be faced.
Note 1: The principal source on which this and the following four paragraphs are based is Feith, Decline of Constitutional Democracy. Back.
Note 2: The discussion in this and the following seven paragraphs draws on several published accounts of which Liddle, ed., Political Participation in Modern Indonesia , and Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , are the fullest. Back.
Note 3: Angkatan Darat, Sumbangan Fikiran TNI-AD Kepada Kabinet Ampera (1966), p. 49, cited by Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , p. 248. Back.
Note 4: A second party Sukarno banned was the Socialist Party, whose leaders were prominent in early cabinets but which performed poorly at the polls in 1955. Although one of its former leaders apparently did secretly negotiate with Soeharto's staff in an effort to have the party legally recognized again, the bulk of its leadership decided not to try to revive the organization but to work with the government as individuals and, they hoped, influence it from within. Back.
Note 5: The experience of the National Party during this period is described in most analyses of the 1971 elections; the fullest account appears to be that of Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , pp. 254-59. Back.
Note 6: The unsuccessful effort to rehabilitate the Masyumi Party is described in detail in Ken Ward, The Foundation of the Partai Muslim in Indonesia . Back.
Note 7: The discussion in this and the following four paragraphs draws on a number of personal interviews in Jakarta between 1983 and 1989. Other published accounts appear to draw on much the same sources. Back.
Note 8: Soeharto was quoted as saying the idea and the people were "PSI." The initials are those of the Partai Sosialis Indonesia , or Indonesian Socialist Party. The initials have come to be used to refer not only to former party members but also to anyone, civilian or military, who had a university-level education, had an intellectul turn of mind, and had some attachment to Western values. To refer to someone as "PSI" was not necessarily pejorative, although it tended to be in Soeharto's circle. Back.
Note 9: The negotiations with the parties are described in Notosusanto, Tercapainya Konsensus Nasional . Back.
Note 10: The discussion in this and the following five paragraphs draws principally on Reeve, "Sukarnoism and Indonesia's 'Functional Group' State," and his Golkar of Indonesia , and Boileau, Golkar . Back.
Note 11: The I97I elections are reported and analyzed in a number of publications, including Nishihara, The Japanese and Sukarno's Indonesia ; Liddle, ed., Political Participation in Modern Indonesia , Ken Ward, The 1971 Election in Indonesia; and Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia. Back.
Note 12: Nishihara, The Japanese and Sukarno's Indonesia , p. 13. Back.
Note 14: See, e.g., Moertopo, Some Basic Thoughts , pp. 85-86. Back.
Note 15: Republic of Indonesia, Biro Pusat Statistik, Statistik Indonesia : I982 Jakarta, I983), p. 118. Back.
Note 16: Republic of Indonesia, "Peraturan Pemerintah Republik Indonesia Nomor IO Tahun I983 tentang Izin Perkawinan dan Perceraian Bagi Pegawai Negeri Sipil," Lembaran Negara Republik Indonesia Nomor 13 , April 21, I983. Back.
Note 17: Raffles, History of Java , p. 267. Some might object that Raffles was a partisan observer, writing to make a case for British colonization, but his description does not conflict in any fundamental way with other accounts of the period. Back.
Note 18: Sutherland, The Making of a Bureaucratic Elite , p. 16. Back.
Note 20: Benda, "Pattern of Administrative Reforms," p. 591, n. 8. Back.
Note 21: Van Niel, Modern Indonesian Elite , pp. 196-251. Back.
Note 22: Sjafruddin Prawiranegara, cited by Feith, Decline of Constitutional Democracy , p. 306. Back.
Note 23: Republic of Indonesia, Biro Pusat Statistik, Statistical Pocketbook of Indonesia : 1957, Jakarta, 1957, pp. 220-21. Back.
Note 24: Republic of Indonesia, Biro Pusat Statistik, Statistical Pocketbook of Indonesia : I968, Jakarta, I968, pp. 28-29. Back.
Note 25: Emmerson, Indonesia's Elite , p. 104. Back.
Note 27: Mangkusuwondo, "Indonesia," pp. 52-53. Back.
Note 28: Unpublished data from the office of the Minister for Reform of the State Apparatus, I986. The same source has been drawn on for civil service data in the paragraphs that follow. Back.
Note 29: Indonesian Observer , November 4, I98I, cited by MacDougall, "Patterns of Military Control," p. 101, n. 29. Back.
Note 30: On the comparative situation in Southeast Asia, see Girling, The Bureaucratic Polity , and Crouch, Domestic Political Structures . Back.
Note 31: All data are from the annual reports published under the title World Military Expenditures and Arms Transfers by the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency. Back.
Note 33: Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , p. 274, n. 1. Back.
Note 34: Business International Roundtable, "Indonesia's Prospect for Attracting Foreign Investment" (September I7, I968), cited by Polomka, Indonesia Since Sukarno , p. 114. Back.
Note 35: For a detailed account of the corporate and personal economic interests of army officers in the late I9605 and early I9705, see Robison, Indonesia , pp. 250-70, and Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , pp. 273-303. For views on corruption, see Smith, The Indonesian Bureaucracy , pp. 21-40. Back.
Note 36: Penders and Sundhaussen, Abdul Haris Nasution , p. 113. Back.
Note 37: Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia , pp. 76-77. Back.
Note 38: Emmerson, Indonesia's Elite , p. 101; MacDougall, "Patterns of Military Control," p. 98. Back.
Note 39: Emmerson, Indonesia's Elite , p. 101. Back.
Note 40: Ibid., p. 102, n. 27. Back.
Note 41: MacDougall, "Patterns of Military Control," p. 98. Back.
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