CIAO DATE: 01/2009
Volume: 2008, Issue: 10
Fall 2008
Aceh’s Struggle for Independence: Considering the Role of Islam in Separatist Conflict (PDF)
Robert Shaw
Tension and conflict marred the relationship between the Indonesian government in Jakarta and Indonesia’s northernmost province of Aceh for most of the last half century. At the core of the center‐periphery rift between Jakarta and Aceh was the Acehnese desire for political autonomy, although that desire has enjoyed varying degrees of support in Aceh since the region was incorporated into an independent Indonesian state in 1953. Shortly after the formation of the Indonesian state, Acehnese joined with the national resistance movement, Darul Islam, to launch the first post‐colonial armed struggle in Aceh. Two decades later, the issue of political autonomy still had not been resolved. The Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka; GAM) formed in response and maintained a 29‐year armed struggle against the government of Indonesia to a political system in Aceh free from the authority of the Indonesian state.
The character of the Darul Islam movement and the Free Aceh movement differ in a critical respect. Darul Islam primarily aimed to establish an Islamic Government over all of Indonesia; political autonomy for Aceh was only a secondary aim. The ulama, religious clerics, led the struggles reflecting the centrality of religion to the movement’s ideology. In contrast, the Free Aceh movement (GAM) was not associated with the ulama and, although the Islamic character of GAM is inseparable from its identity, its objectives maintained a clear political focus.
Part I of this article will examine the major aspects of Acehnese identity. Part II will examine the changing role of the ulama in Aceh after Indonesia gained its independence. It will argue that marginalization of the ulama by the Suharto government and repression against the Acehnese helped create a movement with a distinct political character whose religious attributes were ambiguous at best. Part III will describe the evolution of The Free Aceh Movement and the conditions that finally led to successful peace talks between the Indonesian government and the Free Aceh Movement in 2005. Part IV will consider the erroneous portrayal of GAM in the Western media as an Islamic movement and argue that both rhetoric from the Indonesian government and shallow analysis led to this portrayal. This article argues that Islam forms a critical subcurrent in the ideology of GAM because it is a reflection of the Acehnese culture and identity, but not because the group maintains Islamic political aspirations.
David Ethan Corbin
Historically, Syria has had a unique position in the Arab world. Today is no different. Though overwhelmingly Sunni Muslim, Syria is run by a nominally Shi’a Islam, Alawi minority.1 Its population is a virtual ethnic and religious mosaic, comprised of Arabs, Alawis, Druze, Kurds and Armenians each belonging to various Muslim and Christian denominations and speaks Arabic, Kurdish, Armenian, Circassian and Aramaic. To complicate matters further, Syria’s main ally in the region is Iran—the decidedly non‐Arab, Shi’a Persian state and, in the aftermath of the U.S. invasion in Iraq, burgeoning regional hegemon. Damascus also plays host to many non‐state armed groups that pose a persistent threat along Israel’s borders.
To the southwest, the Golan Heights, the fertile high ground that Syria lost to Israel in the 1973 war, remain mostly in the hands of the Israelis with only a small UN force governing a neutral, no‐man’s land between the two sides around al‐Quneitra. To the east, Syria is beset with the challenges of a continuous flow of refugees from the Iraq war—the total population residing in Syria hovering around 1.7 to 1.9 million. Political instability along Syria’s western border in Lebanon is often blamed on Syrian interference and is one of the prime drivers behind U.S. bilateral sanctions against the country.
With regards to the on‐going Arab‐Israeli conflict, Syria has made rather interesting news recently. The conspiracy of silence that continues to surround the incident of September 6, 2007— when Israeli jets penetrated Syrian airspace and destroyed what they claimed to have been a nascent nuclear facility in northern Syria—is baffling to say the least. Some believe that the Syrian government is loath to admit being caught red handed in an attempt to establish a nuclear program with North Korean assistance. Others believe that the action was merely an attempt to warn Iran about the potential hazards of its nuclear ambitions as well as its continued support of organizations operating along Israel’s borders such as Hezbollah. The Arab League’s indifference, the scant recognition of the Bush Administration and the enigmatic reply by Syrian President Bashar al‐Asad seem to envelope the event in still more mystery.
Southwest Asia is experiencing an epoch of unprecedented change. Every day it appears history ebbs and flows. Both uncertainty and optimism are in the air. While globalization has spurred economic development and social reform, instability continues to present security challenges. With upcoming presidential elections in Afghanistan looming there is much at stake. Many are questioning the future of this dynamic region: How current changes underway will affect regional security, economic development and relations vis‐à‐vis the West?
Beirut Reconstruction: A Missed Opportunity for Conflict Resolution (PDF)
Lourdes Martinez-Garrido
In the BBC documentary, “War generation: Beirut,” snipers from the different warring factions are interviewed. One reveals how the inequalities between the awful housing conditions in which he and his family were living and the opulence that he saw in the city center created in him a deep feeling of anger. According to his confession, this bitter emotion was only mitigated when he took part in the destruction of the St. Georges Hotel, a landmark of the luxurious side of Beirut. Urban references in the snipers’ memories of the war are a constant theme.
In 1975, Beirut became the setting of a protracted civil conflict that would dramatically change the city’s social milieu by the time it ended, over fifteen years later. What started as a disagreement between the Christian and the Muslim communities over the power of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in Lebanon, ended up involving regional actors (Syria, Saudi Arabia and Israel) and international powers (American and European military forces). As a result, in a country of about three million, 170,000 people died, twice as many were wounded and 900,000 emigrated. More than half of the population suffered some kind of displacement from their homes. The war came to an end in 1990 with the Taif Accords, signed in 1989, through which the Sunni and Shia communities were granted greater representation in the parliament.
One of the outcomes of this urban warfare was a significant shift in Beirut’s population distribution along sectarian lines. While before the war community intermixing was a characteristic of the city center, during the war the city was divided into two sectors: East Beirut, where the Christian community lived, and West Beirut, where the Muslim community was predominant. The demarcation line (the so called ̀green line’) that separated both sectors was the principle setting for militia fighting. The long‐standing tensions in this area resulted in the disappearance of the main open public space, the central place known as Martyrs Square, from which the green line (the old road to Damascus) emerged.
This paper reviews the principal urban planning projects integrated into the reconstruction plan and their underlying implications in the current Lebanese socio‐political dilemma. Two decidedly negative outcomes can be derived from this analysis within a conflict resolution framework. First is the disappearance of the main public space in which inter‐communal social contact used to take place in pre‐war Beirut, in particular Martyrs Square. The new public spaces that have emerged in post‐civil‐war Beirut, mainly commercial shopping centers, can be described as ̀places for exclusion,’ conceived for and accessible to only a minority of upper‐class Lebanese. The second outcome is the entrenchment of segmentation along sectarian lines that was first undertaken during the civil war. Linked to the disappearance of Martyrs Square, the city center functioning changed from a monocentric structure to a polycentric one that reflected the new sectarian organization. Furthermore, the implementation of post‐conflict reconstruction plans has not reversed this segmentation trend nor it has addressed the urban inequalities existing between the different areas of the city. Instead of spreading the reconstruction process throughout the metropolitan area, which could have helped bridge urban and social gaps, all efforts were concentrated in downtown, which is now perceived by a great part of the population as an exclusive zone. As such, it can be stated that Beirut’s urban reconstruction is a missed opportunity for enhancing social cohesion.
Foreign Labor in the Arab Gulf: Challenges to Nationalization (PDF)
Dahlia Shaham
The leaders of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states have much on their plates these days. Relations between the United States and Iran continue to deteriorate. As oil prices climb and local currencies remain pegged to a depreciating US Dollar, inflation within GCC countries has increased. This period of regional economic and diplomatic unease also coincides with the recent launch of the GCC Common Market. Yet, with so many pressing issues on the agenda, one of the hottest topics in Gulf media these past months involves a legal question of a somewhat technical nature: should GCC members limit residency visas for non‐skilled foreign workers to six years?
Labor market regulation, particularly foreign labor, is a crucial economic and political concern for GCC countries. It inevitably relates to tensions between economic and political development and between financial surpluses and human capital shortages. This paper explores the nature of this concern, the factors behind it as well as past and present attempts to address foreign labor regulation. It focuses on the four Small Gulf Countries (SGCs): The Kingdom of Bahrain, The United Arab Emirates, Kuwait and Qatar. The common traits of the SGCs—their traditions, their size of territory and population and the origins of their political systems and economic growth— have created similar labor market trends. However, it is their differences that offer insight into the effect of certain political and economic factors on the regulation of those markets and on their prospects for development.
Is Time Ripe for Transitional Justice in Afghanistan? (PDF)
Monica Wisner
Since 2001, transitional justice in Afghanistan has endured a precarious progression, with those supporting it forced to fight for each step forward. Despite the efforts of transitional justice proponents, the amnesty bill signed by President Karzai in early 2007 dramatically reversed much of the progress that had been achieved. While the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission (AIHRC) has made substantial advancement in this field, several major obstacles remain in Afghanistan’s political support. This paper will discuss the steps already taken to advance transitional justice, the various elements that obstruct it, and the measures that can realistically be carried out today.
Since 1978, Afghanistan has experienced relentless war, war crimes, crimes against humanity and mass human rights violations. Various external actors, particularly the Soviet Union, the United States, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, contributed to and at times catalyzed some of the most horrendous events during the last thirty years. Five distinct phases describe the on‐going conflict in the country: the communist revolution, the Soviet invasion, the mujahadeen civil war, the Taliban regime, and the current post‐Taliban period. Although most Afghans acknowledge that different periods characterize their turbulent recent history, they refer to the conflicts as one long war, as the violence rarely paused and the perpetrators only changed faces.
These wars produced approximately one million deaths and over seven million refugees, in addition to widespread rape, massacres of different ethnic groups, torture, and disappearances. 4 For any transitional justice approach to work, it must consider this entire period, rather than just post‐2001, and it must also deal with all the parties involved since many victims were also perpetrators of atrocities. The Bonn Agreement of December 2001 inaugurated the current period and outlined the mandate for the interim government and the international peace operation. The Bonn Agreement was not a peace accord and did not bring together victors and losers; rather it forced a power‐sharing agreement upon many ‘losers’. Excluding the Taliban, these ‘losers’ were former members of the mujahadeen, particularly the Northern Alliance. These groups viciously fought one another for decades, leaving a trail of mass human rights violations. Given the tenuous nature, therefore, of this power‐sharing agreement, political objectives for peace and stability took precedence over justice and disarmament. Though UN mediators strove to include commitments regarding accountability and disarmament, these were aggressively rejected by Afghan leaders and ultimately excluded in the final document.
The failure of the Bonn Agreement to address impunity established an inherently unstable peace process with long‐lasting repercussions, effectively allowing for an unrestrained rise in violence and insecurity. Because well‐known perpetrators hold high positions in the current government and enjoy international support, major human rights abuses continue to be tolerated by both the Afghan government and the international community.