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The Modern Political Economy
New York
1993
8. The Petition of Fifty
The Pertamina affair left the government highly vulnerable to criticism. Students slowly mounted demonstrations against the government's economic policies, against corruption, and against the authoritarian nature of the regime. Islamic groups defeated the government in an election in Jakarta and mobilized a mass rally in support of human rights. Retired military officers made public addresses in which they criticized the government harshly.
These signs of political rejuvenation became focused on the reelection of Soeharto to the presidency in 1978. After some initial hesitation the armed forces announced that they stood solidly behind Soeharto, and, on the day of the election, they put on a massive display of armed might.
This display of force, and the government's apparent need to rely on it, touched off an extraordinary process of public soul-searching on the part of numerous prominent personalities in the civil and military elite. The issues had to do with army support of the government party, Golkar; with the identification of the army with the Soeharto government; and, inevitably, with the future of the presidency.
Soeharto brought this process to an eventual halt. But not before fifty prominent citizens, former Islamic party leaders and former army commanders, an unlikely coalition, issued a public statement demanding an end to the Soeharto presidency.
Islam and the 1977 Elections
The first parliamentary elections of the New Order in 1971 had been marked by the smooth and effective functioning of the bureaucracy as an electoral machine. Golkar obtained 62.8 percent of the national vote in a contest against nine parties. In 1973 the government amalgamated these parties--simplified them, in the official terminology--into two new groups as part of an effort to reduce the number of contending ideologies on the national political scene. One of these new groupings, designated the Indonesian Democracy Party, and commonly known as the PDI, combined the remnants of the secular National Party, two smaller nationalist parties, and the Protestant and Catholic parties; it was an awkward marriage, and the group was to struggle for years to establish an identity for itself. The second new grouping was initially more fortunate. The Development Unity Party, or PPP, combined four Islamic parties, of which the largest was the traditionalist Nahdatul Ulama, or NU, which had been alone among the parties in holding its mass base against the Golkar onslaught in 1971.
Numerous disagreements between the government and the leaders of the new Islamic grouping preceded the 1977 parliamentary elections. Government-sponsored legislation in 1975 and 1976 had laid down rules that imposed considerable constraints on political parties contesting future elections. For example, the 1975 law on political parties and Golkar provided that civil servants holding certain positions could not become members of political parties or Golkar unless their superiors gave them written permission. A later government regulation provided that those certain positions included all civil service posts down to village chief, all senior and branch managers of state-owned corporations and banks, all defense ministry employees, and all government teachers. 1
The PPP emerged from this process with only one signal victory: freedom to use the Ka'abah, the most sacred building in Islam, which stands in the court of the Great Mosque in Mecca, as its symbol on the ballot. But the group also had the advantage of a united slate of Islamic-minded candidates for the first time, and the well-organized presence of the Nahdatul Ulama, especially in heavily populated rural Java. From the very beginning of the campaign, the government acted on the assumption that the PPP was the only possible threat to a Golkar victory. 2
Three months before the elections, in early February, Admiral Soedomo, who was both the armed forces' deputy chief and the head of internal security, as well as a Javanese convert to Christianity at the time of his marriage, announced the uncovering of an antigovernment conspiracy calling itself the Komando Jihad, or Holy War Command. Although Soedomo said there was no connection between the conspiracy and the PPP, leaders of the PPP saw the announcement as an ill-disguised attempt to undermine their candidates' appeal among moderate voters. The alleged leader of the plot was later acknowledged to have had undercover ties with Gen. Ali Moertopo, and it was widely believed that the plot had been manufactured. Laboring under such inhibitions, the Islamic party nevertheless had reason to expect to do well.
The Islamic party defeated Golkar in the capital city, but it encountered a plethora of irregularities in other provinces. In East and Central Java, the most heavily populated provinces in the country, and in South Sulawesi, the instances of fraud were so widespread that Islamic party representatives refused to sign the official tallies. When the national totals were announced in early June, showing Golkar with 62.11 per cent of the vote, an Islamic party witness refused to sign the official tabulation. 3
Later in the year, in October, Islamic activists were given a new issue when the government released the draft of its proposed "Broad Outlines of State Policy," a document designed to guide government policy for the 1978-83 period. The draft gave equal weight in several passages to the words belief and religion . Islamic leaders saw this as yet another attempt on the part of the army leadership to reduce the influence of Islam in public life.
Long-time army associates of Soeharto had for some years wanted to obtain official recognition of Javanese mystical beliefs, equivalent to that given to world religions. The principal proponent was Gen. Soedjono Humardhani, a noted adept in Javanese mysticism and reputedly an adviser to the president in spiritual matters. For such men the issue was significant not only because the army had been obliged on several occasions since independence to put down efforts to establish an Islamic state, efforts that they and other army leaders feared would split the nation. Soedjono also found it personally objectionable to be compelled to list Islam as his religion. Before the 1970 census, he had campaigned behind the scenes to have the census offer the populace the choice of identifying their religion as "Islam-abangan," a designation that suggested one adhered to Islamic principles and Javanese mystical beliefs as well. It was thought that this would dramatically reduce the recorded number of adherents to an unadulterated Islam, and would make possible a reduction in the scale of government subsidies to mosques, Islamic schools, and other Islamic institutions.
When the issue was raised again in the latter part of 1977, it evoked reactions at several levels. General Nasution, who had been quiescent for almost a decade, and who had done his part in putting down Islamic insurgencies during his own long tenure as army chief of staff, was stimulated to renewed activity; he was soon making frequent speeches critical of the government's economic policies and of its commitment to democracy. Student leaders quickly picked up the mood of opposition. 4
Students in Opposition
Student protests spread rapidly after the 1977 parliamentary elections. These were focused initially on government economic policies, and in August a team of cabinet-level economists, headed by the redoubtable Professor Sumitro, was sent on a tour of major campuses to establish a dialogue with the student critics. This effort was no more successful than a similar effort had been four years before. At the University of Indonesia in the capital city, and at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, Central Java, the students began by challenging the cabinet ministers on economic issues, but went on to raise questions about the role of the armed forces in politics and in the government. In Bandung, the capital of West Java, the reception was hostile. Student leaders took control of the meeting from the outset, announced a number of "conditions" for discussion that the cabinet officers could not possibly meet, and declared the meeting closed before any discussion could take place. The cabinet officers were flown back to the capital by helicopter, and the rest of the campus "safari" was canceled. 5 The lesson to be drawn from this experience was not lost on Soeharto. His academic advisers had again been unable to control their own constituency, and that failure was to contribute to a reduction in their influence in his government.
In October members of the student councils from universities throughout Indonesia met in Bandung and agreed on an "Indonesian Students' Vow" to take every opportunity to express their opposition to the government.
Student parades were held in various cities on November 10, which was Heroes' Day, a commemoration of the thousands who had died in the Battle of Surabaya which began on that date in 1945 between British and republican Indonesian forces.
December 10 was Human Rights Day, and the student council of the University of Indonesia decided to make this day the start of a "Human Rights Month." The students were moved, in part, by the plight of farmers from the nearby Krawang area who had sought refuge on the University campus. Krawang, ordinarily a rice-surplus area, had experienced a major drought and the farmers were said to be reduced to eating animal feed. The villagers also were said to have fled because authorities were pressing them to repay their rice production loans, which they could not do because the harvest had failed. 6
On January 16, 1978, the student council of the Bandung Institute of Technology, the country's leading center of training in science and engineering, published a White Book of the 1978 Students' Struggle , which argued, in sum, that the people's lives were still far from the ideals of independence. This was a result of a lack of "political will" on the part of the government, of "deviations and abuses of power by government officials," and an "erosion of the authority of government institutions." It was essential that the presidency not be occupied by the same person for more than two successive terms if a dynamic political life was to develop, in which all social groups could participate in selecting the national leadership. The students of the Bandung Institute of Technology, the White Book said, "Do not trust and do not want Soeharto to be President of the Republic of Indonesia again." They called on all factions of the People's Consultative Assembly to nominate "prestigious figures, whose integrity is beyond any doubt," as candidates for president, and called on the armed forces to "stand above all groups in the interest of the nation and the state." 7
Heri Akhmadi, the general chairman of the student council at the Institute, at his later trial on a charge of insulting the head of state, spent four days reading a statement in his own defense. Running to 172 pages in a later English-language translation, and containing numerous tables and charts, quotations from scholars, and citations from the Indonesian press, the statement argued that the student criticisms of the government and the president were well founded. The New Order was a bureaucratic dictatorship, he said, in which elections were a parody of democracy, state institutions other than the presidency had become mere ornaments, and the press had been "castrated" by government controls. The consequence of this concentration of power was, he argued, that Indonesia had become a nation of beggars and embezzlers, begging for foreign loans and investment, and permitting government "stooges," Chinese businessmen, and foreigners to drain the nation of its wealth. He appended a "partial" list of the Soeharto family's wealth and a comparison of the foreign debt of the Old and New Orders. 8
The Armed Forces' Response
The widening criticism of the president and his government found resonance in army circles. An article in the army daily newspaper in November suggested that army leaders of the 1945 generation should "cleanse" themselves before handing over the leadership to their successors. The article offered as a parable the Javanese legend of a king whose actions were founded in greed and who was killed by his cousins. 9 Two days later a retired three-star general, Alamsjah Ratu Perwiranegara, who had served in Soeharto's personal staff in 1966 and was now deputy chairman of the Supreme Advisory Council, an honorific council of elders, made some unusual admissions in an address before a national conference of the Association of Indonesian Social Scientists. Alamsjah acknowledged that many of the aims of the New Order had not been achieved. The gap was growing between the rich and the poor, between the cities and the villages, and between the capital and the provinces. The general also acknowledged the existence of a long list of problems, including food shortages, crime, scandals, smuggling, bribery, abuse of authority, lack of equality before the law, and neglect of political education. It was not surprising, he said, that students, youth, the political parties, and community leaders were discontent. 10 At about the same time, an intelligence report was said to have reached Soeharto that some army brigades were ready to support Nasution and the student cause. 11 A Jakarta newspaper reported that at a November meeting of military commanders in Java special attention was given to the danger of a split in the armed forces caused by groups seeking support for their political ideas. 12
On December 12, at a rally of twenty-thousand Muslims in Jakarta, Nasution spoke forcefully against the government on human rights and other grounds. The rally was attended by Alamsjah and by another retired three-star general, Ali Sadikin, the popular ex-governor of Jakarta. 13
The possibility of a repetition of 1974--of a split within the armed forces over how to deal with student militants--could no longer be ignored. With his own planned reelection to the presidency only three months away, and the political temperature rising, Soeharto is said to have called Gen. Maraden Panggabean, the army chief of staff, and other senior officers to a meeting at which he let them know of his concern. Panggabean called an emergency meeting at the defense ministry on December 13. The nation's senior serving officers attended, and were later joined by fellow generals now in nonmilitary roles in the cabinet, including Amir Machmud and Mohammad Jusuf, the two surviving "kingmakers" from 1966. After two days of discussion, which at one time or another involved a total of twenty-five generals, Panggabean called a press conference and announced that the armed forces would take strong action against anyone threatening the "national leadership." That this display of army unity had taken two days to achieve indeed suggested there had been some substance to the rumors of disunity in army ranks. 14
Within weeks another critical address was delivered by yet another retired lieutenant general. H. R. Dharsono, the former commander of the Siliwangi Division, who in 1969 had attempted to create by fiat a two-party system in the province of West Java, was now the secretary general of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, which after a decade of existence had agreed to the establishment of a modest secretariat in Jakarta. In mid-January 1978 Dharsono addressed a gathering in Bandung of the "generation of 1966," veterans of the student movement of that year who had helped bring down Sukarno. Dharsono used the occasion to say that it was now time for the leaders of the armed forces to pay attention to public opinion. If the armed forces continued to rely on military power, they would be obeyed only out of fear. Recent events indicated that the people were growing restive and that something was seriously wrong. Civil-military relations were troubled; the New Order had moved away from its original ideals, and the government needed redirecting. 15
In February the government moved decisively against the more vulnerable of its critics. Troops moved into the campus of the Institute of Technology in Bandung, and more than a hundred student leaders were arrested there and in other cities. Newspapers were closed for a week until their editors again agreed that they would not publish news that would threaten public security. 16
(The government later brought charges against at least thirty student leaders in Bandung, Jakarta, Yogyakarta, Surabaya, Palembang, and Medan. The students were initially detained by army security forces on charges of subversion, but the charges were subsequently reduced to the lesser one of "insulting the Head of State," an offense dating to the Dutch colonial period. Nevertheless, Lukman Hakim, president of the student council of the University of Indonesia, argued in court that the arrests were carried out with considerable violence, and that the students jailed with him, including even high school students, were subjected to beatings, electric shocks, and solitary confinement, and that they were further abused by being pent up for months with criminals who also subjected them to beatings and other forms of violence.) 17
At this point it was announced that the Sultan of Yogyakarta, for reasons of health, would not stand for reelection as vice president. The Sultan was known to be disenchanted with Soeharto. An aide said later that a chief source of the Sultan's disenchantment was his constantly encountering a lineup of Chinese businessmen outside the president's office when he went there to pay a call. As the 1978 election to the presidency and vice presidency neared, the Sultan also found himself increasingly hemmed in. One morning, when he was expecting to receive a delegation of students, he woke to find that his personal security guard had been changed without notice. The new officer of the guard informed him that the student visit had been canceled. That was the moment, the aide said, when the Sultan realized the time had come to bow out.
In March 1978 the People's Consultative Assembly convened to reelect Soeharto to the presidency. There was no question about the outcome. It was calculated that three generals in the Assembly, all appointees of Soeharto, spoke for 86.1 percent of the 920 votes. Nevertheless, from the time the session began on March 11, Jakarta resembled an armed camp. David Jenkins, one of the few resident foreign correspondents, described the scene:
Soldiers with bamboo riot-sticks lounged at every major intersection in the city and armored cars and troop carriers were parked in side streets ready for action. Helicopters scudded across the city, keeping a weather eye for trouble. Combat-ready troops were stationed every 10 ft. along the back perimeter of the [Assembly] grounds. At the front, there were guard dogs and anti-riot trucks. 18
While these precautions seemed extravagant, the government had reason for apprehension. When the "Broad Outlines of State Policy," with its controversial references to "beliefs," came up for a vote in the Assembly, PPP members staged a dramatic walkout. Mohammed Natsir, a former prime minister and leader of the banned Masyumi Party, accused the government of trying to divide the Muslim community: "Step by step, they are trying to raise [ Javanese mystical beliefs] to the level of a religion. The direct consequence will be that people who now regard themselves as Muslims, who practice Islam and who are married and buried according to Islamic law, will become a special group practicing their own ceremonies and having their own graveyards." 19
In this environment, on March 23, 1978, Soeharto was reelected president.
Reservations about the Army's Role
The circumstances surrounding Soeharto's reelection sparked an immediate reaction from a group of retired army leaders. In a letter to General Widodo, the new army chief of staff, on March 28, they observed that Soeharto had been reelected "in an atmosphere of war." It was essential, they said, that the climate of confrontation should end and the country return to a state of normalcy. 20
The retired army officers had met under the auspices of a new Forum for Study and Communication, the leadership of which included six former lieutenant generals and six former major generals. The chairman of the Forum's executive committee was Lt. Gen. G. P. H. Djatikusumo, a son of the Susuhunan or traditional princely ruler of Solo, a distinguished revolutionary era commander, and a former army chief of staff. The secretary general of the Forum was Lt. Gen. H. R. Dharsono, who by this time had been removed from his position as secretary general of ASEAN in reprisal for his public criticism of the government (and for his refusal to apologize). The group as a whole was a disparate collection; included were not only men of distinction and some with reason to be disaffected, but also a goodly number who had been autocratic themselves when they were on active duty. They were not the most credible of critics of government high-handedness, but they also were not unrepresentative of the retired generation of officers on whose behalf they proposed to speak. 21
In the months that followed, the Forum sent five papers in all to Widodo. The general thrust of their observations was that an unacceptable gap existed between the army and the people. It was essential that civil-military relations be repaired. This required that the army be freed from involvement in politics, that it return to its original position of "standing above" parties and groups. This meant, among other things, abandoning the army's active support for Golkar. The government party depended too much on the armed forces, and, as a result, was insensitive and unresponsive to public opinion. 22
These views found further expression in an official army document before the year was out. On October 17, at a meeting of the army general staff, which also was attended by a number of other senior officers, both active and retired, including the executive committee of the Forum, Widodo approved the publication of a seventy-five-page paper on the "dual function" of the armed forces. Drawing on earlier Staff College documents and the Forum papers, and revised in the course of a series of meetings in which Forum leaders participated, the document dealt both with the army's relations with other social and political groups, and with the involvement of military officers in civilian roles in government. As to the first, the paper stressed, the army must never ally itself with any one group in society, as this would endanger its unity and identity. As to the second, now that stability and dynamism had been returned to the executive branch of government, the role of armed forces personnel in civilian posts could be reduced. 23
By this time others were publicly expressing the same view. Maj. Gen. Mas Isman, who as a twenty-one-year-old in 1945 had led the student army in East Java, and who was chairman of one of the founding units of Golkar, said at a national conference in July that it was time that relations between Golkar and the military were altered. Golkar needed to generate its own ideas, or it would be a mere bureaucratic tool. He went on to say that future elections should not be won by "abnormal" means; it would be better to win as a political force that truly obtained a mandate from the people. 24
An independent army view continued to emerge during much of 1979. Gen. Mohammad Jusuf, now the Minister of Defense, took a broadly populist approach to his duties. He traveled incessantly, visiting camps and barracks, inspecting living conditions, and promising improvements in salaries and benefits. 25 He also was quoted frequently in the press as saying that the army had to identify itself with the whole of the Indonesian people. In speeches in Sumatra and Irian in February, in East Java in April, and in South Sulawesi in August, he repeated the theme. The army was not the instrument of a group, a political party, or an individual, he said, but an instrument of the nation and the state. And he went further. It was time for Golkar and the parties to be freer in electing their own leaders, he said; it was time for them to function "from below." 26
In May 1979 General Soemitro, the former deputy commander of the armed forces and former chief of internal security, joined this public discussion, breaking a public silence he had maintained since his departure from government five years earlier. In a signed article published in a major Jakarta daily newspaper on May 11, Soemitro said that while there was some continued restlessness the political situation was "relatively calm." This was so, he suggested, because of the government's willingness to allow "constructive criticism and correction," and also because of "the attitude of the public itself which is apparently aware that the way of force . . . will not reach goals or solve problems." Soemitro then proceeded to raise the issue of presidential succession:
If in the pre-New Order era, talk about the succession was said to be "taboo," in this New Order the matter of succession is a necessity for a sound democratic life. . . . It is clear that the succession must be prepared and conducted in accordance with the existing rules of the game. . . . In fact, the election process must be begun as early as possible. Exposing the candidates earlier is a necessity to get them known nationwide. 27
Soemitro's article created a sensation. General Nasution, in a letter to Tempo magazine, praised Soemitro for his initiative in raising the succession issue publicly, observing that the subject "has been discussed quite frequently in army circles when they met outside official forums." 28 Sumiskum, the former Golkar deputy speaker of Parliament, also praised Soemitro for bringing a breath of "fresh air" to Indonesian politics. It was time, he said, to decide the number of terms an individual could be president. 29
On June 1 Adam Malik, elected vice president the year before, after the Sultan declined to stand again for the post, added fuel to the fire. The occasion was the closing session of a ten-day program in commemoration of National Awakening Day. The commemoration had been planned by twenty-one organizations, including the Forum of retired army leaders, to reflect on the state of national political life. A wide range of New Order figures, including Maj. Gen. Ali Moertopo, had already spoken in the course of the commemoration. Malik could be counted on to strike sparks. A native of Sumatra, he was a man who liked to speak his mind. A few weeks earlier he had remarked that if things continued as they were, government leaders might well be hanged. On this occasion, speaking without notes, Malik began by suggesting that the country's recent experience of a series of calamities--floods, pests, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and epidemics--"are really a warning from God to us." He continued:
We have all sinned. We all have pledged to be loyal, to be imbued with and to practice Pancasila and the 1945 Constitution. But often the utterances are only on the lips without being followed by concrete action. This is our sin. This is the fundamental issue today. This is the main cause of stagnation, so that the government machinery does not run properly. . . . No matter how wrong the present situation is, no matter what the wrongs of the New Order are, there is still a way to make corrections. Not by being angry, not by vituperation or demonstrations, but by properly formulated ideas to calm the situation. . . . Our people are not fond of coups. Our people are not that stupid. There are no coups in the history of Indonesia. 30
Soeharto and His Critics
These intimations of disaffection in elite army and civilian circles came to a head some months later.
The government sent Parliament a draft amendment to the gen eral election law in October, and disaffected elements in the elite quickly focused on it. A central issue was the number of seats in Parliament to be filled by election, and the number to be filled by presidential appointment. Critics wanted to see more seats filled by election, and this would have been at least a step toward a more represen-tative legislature. On February 20, 1980, twenty-six prominent public figures, including Islamic political leaders, former National Party leaders, and retired military officers, submitted a petition to Parliament concerning the general elections. "The transition period that has been going on from the birth of the New Order in 1965 up to 1980 is long enough," their petition said. A general election held sincerely, honestly, and clearly "is the one and only legal way [to elect] a legitimate government." 31
Soeharto was adamant. Using its overwhelming majority in Parliament, the government pushed the bill to a vote on March 2. The event split the Islamic PPP; fifty members from the Nahdatul Ulama, unwilling to join in the usual unanimous approval of a government bill, and also wishing to avoid a confrontation by voting against it, absented themselves from the session. 32
On March 27 Soeharto addressed the regional commanders of the armed forces at their annual conference in Pakanbaru. After reading his prepared text, Soeharto proceeded to get his feelings off his chest. Members of the armed forces, he said, were bound by oath to uphold the Pancasila and the constitution, and to resist any change in them. If necessary, the armed forces would take up arms in this cause. A consensus had been reached at the beginning of the New Order, involving all the political forces at the time, that the armed forces would be given the opportunity to hold one-third of the seats in Parliament by appointment, in return for their giving up the right to vote or be candidates for election. The constitution could be changed by those who held the other two-thirds of the seats. But he had told the political parties at the time that if there were ever an effort to do this, "it would be better if we kidnapped someone from the two-thirds majority to keep that from happening." 33
He had thought at the time that a real consensus also existed in support of the Pancasila as the national ideology. It was a consensus he had fought for, that all the political parties and Golkar would be based on this one ideology. But, in reality, the consensus was still not complete. There was still a political party that said, "Beside the principles of the Pancasila, there are others." There had been many examples of this, most recently in the amending of the election law. At the very least this called for "all of us" to be vigilant. So, the president told the commanders, "choose partners, friends, companions who will really safeguard the Pancasila and who have not the least hesitation about the Pancasila." 34
The criticism of recent months continued to rankle. On April 16 Soeharto addressed the army's paratroopers, the "red berets," on the occasion of their twenty-eighth anniversary. He used the occasion to deny various charges that had been leveled against him and his family. It was said, he observed, that his wife received commissions, decided the award of government tenders, and had made their home into "a headquarters for tender awards, commissions, and the like." This was simply not true. Another charge, making the rounds of students and housewives, "who are easily led in one direction or another," was that he had a mistress who was a well-known movie actress. It was an old story, he said, and also not true.
"Maybe," Soeharto said, "they think I am their major political obstacle. So I must be eliminated." But they forget that "if anything were to happen to me, there would arise other citizens, other soldiers, who will always oppose their politics, even more surely if they aim to change the Pancasila and the Constitution with another ideology." 35
In early May 1980 another petition to Parliament--a "Statement of Concern"--was signed by fifty prominent citizens. The petition said that the Soeharto speeches raised serious questions about the way the government was using its power and the way it intended to carry out the next elections. The president appeared to conceive the society as being polarized between one group that viewed the Pancasila as "eternal" and another that wanted to replace the Pancasila, raising the prospect of new controversies within the society. He "misunderstood" the Pancasila, however, the petition said; whereas the five principles were intended to serve as a basis for unity, the president was using them "as a means to threaten political enemies." He approved of dishonorable action by the armed forces, on the subterfuge of honoring the soldier's oath, whereas this pledge could not possibly be given precedence over the constitution. He urged the armed forces "not to stand above all social groups, but to choose friends and enemies based solely on his own assessment." The president seemed, the petition said, to see himself as the "personification" of the Pancasila, so that even every rumor about him was taken as a sign of being against the Pancasila. The petition asked the members of Parliament to consider these issues. 36
The "Statement of Concern" was signed by five former military leaders: A. H. Nasution; Mokoginta, his one-time chief of staff; Ali Sadikin, a retired marine general, the former governor of Jakarta, and at one time regarded as a possible presidential candidate; Hoegeng, former commander of the national police and for many years a popular television personality; and Mohammad Jasin, a former commander of the Brawidjaja Division in East Java, and by this time a noted critic of corruption in government. The principal civilian signers were three senior figures from the old Masyumi party, all active in the rebellion of 1957-58: Sjafruddin Prawiranegara, who had been head of the emergency republican government in 1948-49 when Sukarno, Hatta, and others were prisoners of the Dutch; Mohammad Natsir, who had been prime minister in 1950-51; and Burhanuddin Harahap, who had been prime minister in 1955-56 and had overseen the first national general elections.
On June 3 Admiral Sudomo and General Yoga Sugama, chief of intelligence, reportedly called the chief editors of the Jakarta news media to a briefing. The government, they said, had found evidence of a plot to assassinate a large number of people, beginning with Soeharto, and to take over the government. The charge appears not to have been meant to be taken seriously; it was never pursued. Indeed, Yoga said that the government did not intend to arrest any of the signers of the "Statement of Concern"; that would give them the martyrdom they sought. It would strike back in other ways. Expired work permits and business licenses would not be renewed; lines of bank credit would be cut off; bids on government projects would not be accepted; and exit permits to leave the country would not be granted. 37
In early July nineteen members of Parliament, two from the PDI and the rest from the Islamic PPP, signed a letter to Soeharto. The recent petition to Parliament by fifty citizens, they said, although it was not reported by the Indonesian media, had been reported widely abroad. In addition, several senior government officials had discussed the petition at various briefings. The parliamentarians said the petition had raised important issues that demanded the attention of Parliament and the government. The authors therefore asked Soeharto for a "complete and detailed" explanation of his position on the issues the statement raised. They appended a copy of the petition for his information. The letter, dated July 5, along with the full text of the petition, finally appeared in a single Jakarta newspaper on July 16. 38
This was followed by a debate, which took place in public as well as in private, over whether it was necessary or desirable for Soeharto to respond. He did so in early August to the extent of sending a letter to the speaker of Parliament with copies of the speeches that had given rise to the petition. He suggested that any questions about the speeches might be taken up by the appropriate committee of Parliament according to the standing procedures. 39 Since the government controlled all committees of Parliament, that was the end of the exchange.
Soeharto did respond indirectly to the criticisms of his government on August 17, in his annual address to Parliament on the eve of Independence Day. He offered a classic defense: "To materialize the progress and prosperity that is our ideal, the one and only way for us to take is to implement development; in order to implement development, we must all be able to maintain dynamic national stability." 40
He later returned to the topic with a statement with which many of his listeners might have agreed:
Political development is a very difficult part of the development of the nation in its entirety. Therefore it calls for the determination and patience of us all. We need to understand that we do not possess a stable tradition yet for giving substance to and for determining the forms of all the important aspects of the practice of the political life. We are still trying to find the right balance between freedom and responsibility, between the interests of the individual and those of the group on the one hand and on the other of public interests and national interests. 41
Patience was not everywhere in adequate supply, as an outbreak of anti-Chinese violence demonstrated the following November. On November 19 a fight occurred between an Indonesian student and the son of a wealthy Chinese businessman in the old royal capital of Solo in Central Java. This led to rioting that lasted three days; thousands of young Javanese rampaged through the Chinese business district, terrorizing the population and wrecking shops, homes, and cars. Troops had to be brought in to bring the rioting under control, and one youth was killed. Although the authorities tried to keep news of the disturbance out of the mass media, the rioting spread. By November 24 there was rioting in Semarang, the port city where Soeharto had had his Diponegoro headquarters, and which was home to one of the oldest Chinese communities in Indonesia. Again troops were brought in, much property was damaged, and two rioters were shot. Rioting also spread to other towns in Central Java, including Pekalongan, Kudus, and Magalang. Troops were flown in by C130 Hercules transport planes, and nightly curfews were enforced until early December. On December 3 Gen. Yoga Sugama, the intelligence agency head, briefed a committee of Parliament in a closed session. He reportedly told them that a total of eight Javanese youths, but no Chinese, had been killed, and fourteen had been wounded. More than 240 Chinese shops, 230 homes, 23 factories, 32 office buildings, and 1 school had been damaged. More than 680 persons had been arrested. 42
Although tensions thus remained high for a time following the confrontation between Soeharto and his critics, they did eventually subside. While Soeharto was vulnerable to criticism, the bases of his critics were diffuse. The students had a vision of a modern, democratic Indonesia, a view not widely shared among their elders. The Muslim leaders had a vision of a devout Islamic Indonesia, a view not shared by all Muslims, and especially not by many of the Javanese officers who in 1980 constituted almost 80 percent of the armed forces high command. 43 The retired army generals had a vision of an incorruptible Indonesian army presiding over the development of a grateful nation. Only rarely, as in the Petition of Fifty, did members of these disparate groups find common ground.
In addition, the armed forces establishment had yet to agree on the choice of a successor from within its own ranks. This would have to have been a Javanese, but no Javanese general had been permitted to occupy the position of Minister of Defense, and there was no obvious heir apparent. A number of other key positions had long been held by some of Soeharto's most trusted confidantes; such units as the public security apparatus and the paratroop command were under the control of long-time loyalists. 44 In these circumstances it might well have been true, as Ali Moertopo warned, that an effort to remove Soeharto from office "would lead to civil war." 45
The pressures had nevertheless been real. Had Soeharto faced his critics of 1979 and 1980 in conditions of falling oil prices, the outcome might have been different. As it was, his run of good luck continued, and the economic trade-off he offered the elite was real. Oil prices rose continuously during both 1979 and 1980, reaching the highest levels ever experienced. Before the latter year was out, following an OPEC meeting in Bali, the base price of Indonesia's most popular grade of oil, Minas crude, was increased to $35 a barrel. Ten years earlier the same oil had sold for $1.70 a barrel. Indonesia was again awash with money.
Thus buoyed by the inertia of the situation, or, as Juwono Sudarsono put it, by the nation's lack of effective power to bring about concerted change, Soeharto remained. He lacked style and charisma, but, as Sudarsono wrote, "he is a supreme tactician who puts great premium on orderly change on his own terms." 46 And so the critics were dealt with, most of them gently. General Jusuf was appointed chairman of the Supreme Advisory Council. Widodo was retired. The Forum of retired army men was disbanded. Generals Soemitro, Alamsjah, and other former army leaders made their peace with the president and went on to further careers in government or business. Adam Malik retreated into relative public silence, at least until he was gone from the vice presidency. The chairman of the PDI resigned, leaving the leadership of the party in progovernment hands. The factions within the PPP, now deeply divided over support of the government, decided to go their separate ways, although this took some time to work itself out. Concern about the army's role in politics fell dormant, or at least silent, and public interest in the issue of presidential succession did not come alive again until the late 1980s. Those who had signed the "Statement of Concern" kept up their critique, petitioning Parliament on pending legislation and protesting the handling of elections, but their petitions were effectively kept out of the domestic press, and they had no audience.
The Economic Trade-Off
The economic trade-off was indeed real. The budget for fiscal year 1979-80 included subsidies of Rupiah 350 billion for kerosene and diesel fuel, Rupiah 82.6 billion for fertilizers, and Rupiah 82 billion for rice; at the then-current rate of exchange, these subsidies came to the equivalent of $823 million, which was 7.3 percent of the total government budget and 1.9 percent of Gross Domestic Product. Some of these budget decisions were reportedly arrived at only after considerable agonizing by Soeharto and his cabinet. The sharpest debate appears to have taken place over fuel price subsidies, the cost of which had escalated with the international market in oil; the rice and fertilizer subsidies were more modest and also central to the whole strategy for agriculture. A scheduled increase in domestic fuel prices had been put off in 1978 in the heated atmosphere of Soeharto's reelection, reportedly on the urging of internal security officials. An increase of 40 percent was finally carried out in March and April of 1979. After much internal debate, a further increase of 50 percent took place in May 1980.
There was less debate about salaries. During calendar year 1979, as oil prices were rising, all government employees, civil and military, received an increase of 16.6 percent in basic salaries. 47 In announcing the 1980-81 budget, Sumarlin told the press that the equivalent of $3.2 billion was budgeted for the salaries of 2.5 million civil servants. He added that this would provide for the livelihood of a total of 12.5 million people, although it was noted at the time that if this were so, civil servant families would have a per capita income that was less than 70 percent of the national average.
The 1980-81 budget also included the equivalent of $2 billion for the Department of Defense, most of which was earmarked for further pay increases and allowances. 48 The official defense budget thus came to about 12.8 percent of the budget. While this was modest by international standards, it was believed that the government was still meeting only part of the defense department's needs. One foreign embassy estimated the share as being in the range of 60-70 percent, which, if accurate, was a considerable improvement over the semiofficial estimates of 1969-70, but still left a substantial gap to be filled. 49
The remainder of the armed forces needs were reportedly being met by a large number of companies, cooperatives, and foundations that, in turn, were engaged in a wide range of business activities. These were reported in 1980 to include ventures sponsored by the Department of Defense, the four major services, the sixteen regional commands, and such special commands as the strategic reserve. A holding company sponsored by the defense ministry held shares in at least thirty-eight companies, eleven of which had joint ventures with foreign investors. Some twenty-four of the thirty-four local companies engaged in the timber business were said to involve military interests. 50 Other military ventures, especially in construction, had benefited from Pertamina contracts during the 1974-75 oil boom, and languished following the Pertamina default. 51 Many such firms stood to benefit from the economic expansion fueled by the boom of 1979-80.
Thus, the second oil boom was already well advanced when Soeharto confronted his critics in early 1980, and the economic trade-off of which Soeharto himself spoke was in full flower. It took the form of substantial, though still inadequate, pay increases for the civil and military services, substantial fuel subsidies for urban consumers, and an economic expansion that promised benefits to a wide swath of elite interests, including firms owned by the armed forces.
The Policy Issues
There were larger issues at hand. The student protests surrounding Soeharto's reelection in 1978 obliged the government to show new resolve in addressing problems of social justice. Soeharto himself, in his first address to Parliament after that election, said the government recognized that "the people's feelings require development to take a greater depth and not just to touch upon the surface," and that "we are increasingly pressed by the necessity to make development even more equitable in the direction of social justice." 52 The "Broad Outlines of State Policy" thus gave first priority to a more equitable distribution of the benefits of development. But the Third Plan period beginning in 1978 also had been seen as the period when the government, following major investments in support of agriculture, would begin to shift its investment priorities toward manufacturing. The question was what sort of manufacturing was to be financed. The Third Plan was ambivalent. It talked about an emphasis on industries that would expand employment opportunities. But it also spoke of "industries which would process (domestic) raw materials into manufactured goods" so that "most of the country's needs could be met by locally-made products." 53
These goals were not necessarily the same. The issue was posed sharply in a confidential World Bank report, a massive two-volume study delivered to the government in May 1978. Whatever the official plans had said about priorities, the report noted, the bulk of Indonesian investment in industry was heavily skewed toward large-scale projects that contributed little to employment. Pertamina investments in mining added to this general picture, but large-scale projects also were under way in steel, fertilizer, and petrochemicals. The largest projects, according to a project-by-project count, would generate only 8,000 jobs a year at a cost of $14,000 per job. Meanwhile, the small-scale sector was expected to generate 110,000 jobs a year at only $1,000 per job. These figures, the Bank study suggested, should be compared to the annual increase in the labor force, which exceeded one million. 54
A. R. Soehoed, the new Minister of Industry, acknowledged that the government's Third Plan contained "two seemingly conflicting objectives." One was "a larger spread of progress," and this called for "more and smaller size operations with larger inputs in manpower." The second objective was to sustain the current rate of growth, and this could be accomplished only by investment in "bigger and more efficient, high-technology operations, obviously less labour intensive." 55 The government would search intensively for new employment opportunities, especially in agroindustries and in small- and medium-scale manufacturing. But where the market required high precision and sustained quality standards, Soehoed said, the labor-intensive priority would have to be breached. 56
As the oil money rolled in, the breaches mounted. The government in fact had no plan for industrial development, and Soeharto's new cabinet, appointed after his reelection in 1978, included not only more army officers but several prominent supporters of an essentially physical approach to development. The civilian economists who remained in the cabinet had no experience in industry, failed to produce a reasoned plan for industrial development, and spent the next few years arguing the inefficiency of one proposed massive industrial project after another. By mid-1981 the U.S. foreign commercial service reported that the Indonesian government, in addition to planning a development budget of $10 billion for fiscal year 1981-82, and price subsidies of $3 billion for the year, was expected to spend more than $12 billion over the next several years on a long list of major industrial projects. These included refinery expansions, liquified natural gas expansions, petrochemical projects, power plants, mining ventures, cement plants, and pulp, paper, and wood industries. 57
With Ibnu Sutowo gone from government, the role of chief protagonist of a high-technology, capital-intensive approach to development was filled by B. J. Habibie, a German-trained aeronautical engineer, a former vice president of Messerschmitt, and one of the bright young men recruited back to Indonesia by Ibnu Sutowo in the earlier oil boom. Habibie was now Minister of Research, and he exhibited an impatience with economic thinking to a striking degree.
If Indonesia was to develop a modern industry, Habibie said, scientific and technological training was essential but not sufficient. Technologies could truly be learned and developed only by being applied to concrete problems. And the problems might require advanced technologies. "They may indeed in many cases be the most advanced in the world. The only criterion for the appropriateness of technologies for any particular country, including technologically less-developed countries, is their utility in solving actual problems in that particular country." Given Indonesia's situation, the industries that appeared to be "the natural vehicles for Indonesia's transformation" were in transportation (hence calling for the manufacture of aircraft, ships, automotives, and rolling stock); electronics and telecommunications; the energy industry (including the generation and transmission of electric power); facilities for processing the country's agricultural products and its mineral and energy resources (including the production of petrochemicals); equipment for the increased mechanization of agriculture; and, finally, a domestic defense industry (which should be capable of producing patrol boats, frigates, minesweepers, helicopters, jet trainers, fighter aircraft, torpedoes, rockets, rifles, mortars, grenades, and nonguided missiles). 58
This did not leave much out. What it did omit was any concern about employment and the limits of state power. All the large-scale industrial projects were to be undertaken by state enterprises, often in joint ventures with foreign firms capable of mobilizing the necessary technology and satisfying the requirements of international sources of funding. Soehoed believed that only state enterprises were large enough to deal with the kind of multinational corporations that were involved; Fluor, Bechtel, Thyssen, Exxon, and Marubeni were among the potential partners mentioned in reports at the time. Private domestic investors were limited in capacity and experience, he said, and unable to take the risks of pioneering in new fields. 59
Indonesian economists were at a loss in knowing how to deal with this onslaught. Sadli, now out of government, reflected toward the end of 1980 that "the idea of using state power to 'correct' things" was so deeply ingrained in Indonesian political and administrative culture as to be irremovable. The "liberal" policies of the first years of the New Order had been "alien to an Indonesian government" and probably had been accepted at the time only "out of desperation." Using the power of the state was at other times the "natural way of seeing things." The result was that the public sector of state enterprises was now "a big sector," while private business was, by any standard of measurement, only very "minor." 60
But the state sector also had its limits. Emil Salim observed that the government bureaucracy was already unable to absorb the funds available in the budget. There was "a piling up of unspent budget items," he said, and the government apparatus could not possibly absorb the "additional burden" of the "huge" budget increases taking place by late 1980. The private sector was still an alternative, and a number of government programs were designed to help by limiting certain government procurement to "weak" business groups and by promoting a system of subcontracting, in which "larger-scale enterprises . . . contract out certain jobs and operations to small-scale and medium-scale native industries." 61 But the indigenous business sector was still small in scale. "There is a great number of entrepreneurs and enterprises," as Sadli pointed out, "but they have a small turnover and a very small capital." The government could promote a "hot-house type of growth" among these businessmen, but it might not make much difference in the total scheme of things. 62
An alternative source of help to the private sector might have been foreign private investment, but widening government restrictions, and ambivalence on the part of many government officials, had caused such investment to decline after 1974. Approved foreign investments, which totaled about $4 billion in the five years of 1970 through 1974, came to less than $0.9 billion in the subsequent five years of 1975 through 1979. Realized foreign investments also peaked in 1974, and most of the private foreign investment realized after that year was for the expansion of existing firms rather than the entry of new enterprises. 63 In any case, according to a spokesman for the Japanese Chamber of Commerce in Jakarta, most of the private partners available to foreign investors continued to be Chinese. 64
Thus, as the oil money flowed in, the list of massive government projects continued to grow. A World Bank report of 1981 was harshly critical. The government was engaged in "an ambitious program to develop a heavy industry base which will lay a large claim on public resources; one estimate indicates the total cost to be around $20 billion over the next five years." While the Third Plan and recent policy pronouncements indicated that the government intended to place considerable emphasis on the promotion of labor-intensive industries, on manufacture for export, and on stimulation of the private sector, other evidence suggested a very different picture. In reality, the Bank report said, the government was engaged in a wide variety of policies and practices that were inhibiting any advance in these directions. 65
The 1981 Bank report provided a particularly revealing portrait of the problems of private business in oil-rich Indonesia. "The private sector is controlled through an extensive system of regulations which, as a whole, has a substantial disincentive effect and which restricts the expansion of industrial output," the report said. Almost every form of manufacturing required "a wide range of licenses and permits." Even the Investment Coordinating Board, which had responsibility for promoting investment, was also expected to control it, with the result that this agency also set requirements--for detailed evaluations, licenses, allowances, reports, and reapprovals--the costs of which, except for foreign investors undertaking very large projects, appeared to exceed any benefits that could be obtained. 66
Government financial policies worked in the same direction. About 85 percent of the credit outstanding to the industrial sector came from the state banks. But for a variety of reasons, which the Bank report laid out in some detail, the state banks, in practice, earmarked lines of credit to state enterprises and to other "prime" customers. 67 These were, presumably, local firms with good connections to the office of the president, the military establishment, and senior civil officials.
The government did not like this Bank report. According to the final document itself, the draft was discussed with government representatives from January to June of 1981. The document was reportedly stricken from the agenda for the May 1981 meeting of the thirteen-nation Intergovernmental Group on Indonesia, at the request of Indonesia's economic ministers. J. B. Sumarlin, deputy chairman of the state planning agency, was quoted as complaining, "They talk as if all we have done in the past is wrong. . . . We do not like their attitude or their analysis." 68
But the criticism was not altogether misdirected, and thus there was a certain irony in the selection of Minister Sumarlin to make the eventual announcement that the party was over. In May 1983, after the second oil boom had led to a recession in the industrial economies, after this in turn had led to falling oil prices, and after the government had experienced difficulties in raising funds from commercial sources abroad, the government was obliged to announce that it would "rephase"--meaning it would postpone or scale down--a number of major industrial projects. In June, in an interview, Sumarlin put the list of projects at forty-seven and their value at $21 billion. Among them were a $1.6 billion petrochemical complex, a $1.5 billion aromatics center, a $1.39 billion oil refinery, a $600 million alumina plant, and a $4.9 billion electricity generation program. 69
But the era of big spending had given Soeharto valuable breathing space. Numerous firms had had a role in start-up activities associated with the big projects. Land had been purchased, commissions paid, and contracts let for design and construction. The World Bank, aware of how popular the projects were among elements of the Indonesian elite, congratulated Soeharto on his "courageous" response to economic necessity. 70 And by now the timing was propitious. The massive retreat from heavy industrial development was announced just weeks after Soeharto's ceremonial reelection to another five-year term. 71
Note 1: Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," p. 22. Back.
Note 2: Liddle, "Indonesia 1977, p. I80 Back.
Note 3: Ibid., pp. 181-82. Back.
Note 5: David Jenkins, "Stirrings on the campus," Far Eastern Economic Review [hereafter FEER ] auly I5, I977), and "Campus 'gibberish' halts dialogue," FEER (September 2, I977), cited in Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , pp. 75-76 Back.
Note 6: "Map of the Activities of the University of Indonesia's Student Council in Carrying Out Social Control," Indonesia 27 (April I979), pp. 17-32. Back.
Note 7: "White Book of the I978 Students' Struggle," Indonesia 25 (April 1978), pp. 151--52 Back.
Note 8: Akhmadi, Breaking the Chains of Oppression . Back.
Note 9: Angkatan Bersenjata , November 12, 1977, cited by Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , pp. 80-8I. Back.
Note 10: Sinar Harapan , November 14 (I977), cited by Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals pp. 77-78 Back.
Note 11: Ibid., pp. 81-84. Back.
Note 12: Kompas , November 29, 1977, cited by Liddle, "Indonesia I977," p. 184. Back.
Note 14: Kompas , December 17, I977, cited by Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , p. 85; see also ibid., pp. 84-85; Liddle, "Indonesia I977," p. 185; and Leo Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," p. 25. Back.
Note 15: Antara , January 17, I978, cited by Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , p. 87. Back.
Note 16: Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," pp. 25-26. Back.
Note 17: "Defense of the Student Movement," pp. 1, 2, and 7. Back.
Note 18: David Jenkins, "Mirror, Mirror on the Wall . . . ," FEER , March 31, 1978 p. 23 Back.
Note 19: Ibid., pp. 23 and 26. Back.
Note 20: Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , p. 93. Back.
Note 21: Ibid., pp. 90-92, I09. Back.
Note 22: Ibid.,pp. 92-97. Back.
Note 23: Republic of Indonesia. Markas Besar, Tentara Nasional Indonesia Angkatan Darat, Departemen Pertahanan Keamanan. Dwifungsi ABRI (Konsep I979), cited by Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , pp. 113-21. Back.
Note 24: Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," pp. 28-29.Back.
Note 25: "Current Data on the Indonesian Military Elite," Indonesia 29 (April I980) p. 160. Back.
Note 26: Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , pp. 137-43. Back.
Note 27: General Soemitro, "Stability, Democracy, and Development," Kompas (May 11, I979), cited by Pauker, "Indonesia 1979," p. 129. Back.
Note 28: General A. H. Nasution, Tempo , June 9, I979, cited by Pauker, Indonesia 1979, p. 129. Back.
Note 29: Kompas , May 18, 1979, cited by Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," p. 31. Back.
Note 30: Merdeka , June 4, 1979, and Tempo , June 9, 1979, cited by Pauker, Indonesia 1979 pp. I29-30 Back.
Note 31: Pauker, "Indonesia in I980," p. 240. Back.
Note 32: Ibid.; see also Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," pp. 33-34 Back.
Note 33: Angkatan Bersenjata , March 28, I980. Back.
Note 35: Kompas , April 17, I980. Back.
Note 36: Petisi 50, "Pernyataan Keprihatinan," May 5, 1980; reproduced in Kelompok Kerja Petisi 50, Muluruskan Perjalanan Orde Baru: PertangungJawaban Petisi 50 Kepada Rakyat Indonesia , mimeo. (Jakarta, March 1, 1983). Back.
Note 37: Jenkins, Suharto and His Generals , pp. 167-69. 38. Pelita, July 16, 1980. Back.
Note 38: Pelita , July 16, 1980. Back.
Note 39: Kompas , August 2, 1980. Back.
Note 40: Pauker, "Indonesia in 1980," p. 241. Back.
Note 42: Ibid., pp. 242-43. Back.
Note 43: "Current Data on the Indonesian Military Elite," Indonesia 29 (April 1980), p. 157 Back.
Note 44: Ibid., pp. 155-56 Back.
Note 45: Berita Buana , July 9, 1980 Back.
Note 46: Sudarsono, "Political Changes and Developments," p. 63. Back.
Note 47: David Jenkins, "The Military's Secret Cache," FEER , February 8,1980, p. 70 Back.
Note 48: Ibid., pp. 70-71. Back.
Note 50: Ibid.; see also Barry Newman, "Profits in Indonesia Enrich Military Men--and Their Branches," Wall Street Journal , June 27,1980. Back.
Note 51: Jenkins, "The Military's Secret Cache," p. 71; Newman, "Profits in Indonesia Enrich Military Men,"; see also Richard Robison, Indonesia , pp. 259-66. Back.
Note 53: Suryadinata, "Indonesia under the New Order," p. 17. Back.
Note 54: Thee Kian Wie, "Industrial and Foreign Investment Policy in Indonesia," pp. 86-87. Back.
Note 55: Industrial Development and Finance Department and Industrial Projects Department, World Bank, Problems and Prospects for Industrial Development , vol. I (Report No. 1647-IND, May 25, 1978), p. ii. Back.
Note 56: Soehoed, "The Concept of Industrialization," pp. 5, 6. Back.
Note 58: U.S. Foreign Commercial Service, "Business Outlook Abroad," pp. 20-23. Back.
Note 59: Habibie, "Thoughts Concerning a Strategy for the Industrial Transformation of a Developing Country," pp. 3, 4, 13, and passim. Back.
Note 60: Soehoed, "Industrial Development During Repelita," pp. 55-56, cited by Robison, Indonesia , p. 246, n. 15 and n. I6. Back.
Note 61: Suryadinata and Siddique, eds., Trends in Indonesia II , pp. 148-49, 151. Back.
Note 62: Ibid., pp. 149--150, 152. Back.
Note 64: World Bank, East Asia and Pacific Regional Office, Indonesia: Selected Issues of Industrial Development and Trade Strategy. The Main Report (Washington, DC: World Bank, July 15, I98I), pp. IX-X. Back.
Note 65: Business Week , December 17, I979, p. 44. Back.
Note 66: World Bank, East Asia and Pacific Regional Office, Indonesia: Selected Issues , pp. iii, iv. Back.
Note 67: Ibid., pp. iv, v. Back.
Note 68: Ibid., pp. vii-ix. Back.
Note 69: Guy Sacerdoti, "Overdraft of Inefficiency," FEER (May 29, 1981). Back.
Note 70: Asian Wall Street Journal , June 2I, I983. Back.
Note 71: Susumu Awanohara, Manggi Habir et al., "Shaking the Industrial Cocktail," FEER , August 18, 1983.Back.
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