Indonesia: Power and Impunity: Human Rights under the New
Order
Pancasila .

Despite its chilling human rights record, this same government has consistently
enjoyed support and succour from the world’s most powerful nations and the prime
movers of the international community. Only human rights violations in East Timor,
illegally oc cupied by Indonesia since 1975, have touched the international conscience.

In this report Amnesty International shows that human rights violations are
widespread, not only in East Timor but throughout the Indonesian archipelago. They
are part of a pattern of systematic human rights violations which has unfolded over
more than a quarter of a century. The report descr ibes the structure of state and
military power in which human rights violations have become institutionalized. It also
contains recommendations to the international community as well as the Indonesian
Government, which Amnesty International believes are es sential to human rights
protection.
INTRODUCTION
Indonesia’s New Order Government has been responsible for human rights violations
on a staggering scale since a military coup brought it to power in 1965. Hundreds of
thousands of civilians have been kille d, their mutilated corpses sometimes left in
public places to rot; prisoners, both political and criminal, have been routinely
tortured and ill -treated, some so severely that they died or suffered permanent injury;
thousands of people have been imprisoned following show trials solely for their
peaceful political or religious views; scores of prisoners have been shot by firing –
squad, some after more than two decades on death row.
Signs of increasing political openness in Indonesia have recently raised hopes for
human rights. However, grave human rights violations continue unabated. In this
report Amnesty International examines why the violations continue and why, unless
concerted domestic and international pressure is applied on the government, there
can be l ittle prospect of real improvement.

This report describes the historical pattern of different kinds of violations, political
killing, torture and ill -treatment, political imprisonment and the death penalty,
paying particular attention to the period since 1 989, when the government began
publicly to assert a commitment to protecting human rights. It describes the different
groups of people who have been targeted, as well as the official agencies responsible
for the violations. Finally, the report contains rec ommendations which would help to
end the most serious violations if the government and the international community
were to implement them.
East Timor, the former Portuguese colony invaded by Indonesia in 1975 and still
occupied in defiance of United Nation s (UN) resolutions, has seen some of the worst
violations. The seriousness of the problem was brought home to many in November
1991, when Indonesian troops gunned down as many as 270 peaceful demonstrators at
the Santa Cruz cemetery in Dili, the capital. P olitical killings are not a new
phenomenon in East Timor. They are part of a broader pattern of violations which has
persisted for nearly 20 years.
Similar patterns of human rights violations have been documented during counter –
insurgency operations in Ace h and Irian Jaya where the government faces both
peaceful and armed opposition. In these areas, as in East Timor, military authorities
have been free to employ virtually any means to maintain national security, order and
stability.
Systematic violations ha ve also occurred in parts of Indonesia generally portrayed as
stable and harmonious, such as the islands of Java, Sumatra, Bali, Sulawesi and
Kalimantan, the regions of Nusa Tenggara and Maluku, and even the capital city,
Jakarta. Throughout the country, s erious human rights violations have been part of
the official response to political opposition and “disorder”, and the means of
removing perceived obstacles to economic policies. This response has become known
in Indonesia as the “security approach”.
Where ver they occur, the violations by government forces show a remarkable
uniformity. That uniformity stems from certain basic features of the Indonesian
political system. The armed forces, and particularly military intelligence and counter –
insurgency units, h ave enormous influence. Counter -insurgency strategies in Indonesia
entail both deliberate and unintended violations of human rights. The President and
the executive have virtually absolute power which is used arbitrarily, without any
effective domestic che ck. Ideological conformity is enforced at gunpoint. The legal
system reflects and reinforces executive and military power, and the judiciary is

neither independent nor impartial. Those responsible for human rights violations are
almost never brought to jus tice.
These are the principal factors behind the pattern of human rights violations in
Indonesia and East Timor. The violations are not isolated occurrences, nor are they
the work of a handful of poorly disciplined soldiers, as the government has sometimes
claimed. They are the product of a network of institutions, standard operating
procedures and ideological assumptions which underpin the government’s response to
expressions of dissent or signs of disorder.
Indonesia became a member of the UN Commission o n Human Rights in 1991. The
government has since adopted a cynical stance on human rights. In response to
criticism at home and abroad it has taken a number of steps to demonstrate its
commitment to protecting human rights. It has hosted human rights semin ars,
established a National Human Rights Commission, and punished a small number of
soldiers responsible for human rights violations. At the same time the government has
continued to brand human rights activists “subversives” and “enemies of the state”. It
has also failed to address the root causes of human rights violations. Until this is done,
there can be little hope of any real change in the human rights situation.
Human rights under the New Order: an overview
Political killings provide the most dramat ic evidence of the magnitude of the human
rights problem in Indonesia and East Timor. The slaughter which followed the 1965
coup, between 500,000 and one million people were killed, appears to have
established a precedent for dealing with political opponen ts. In East Timor 200,000
people, one third of the population, were killed or died of starvation or disease after
Indonesia invaded in 1975. In Aceh some 2,000 civilians were killed between 1989 and
1993 during counter -insurgency operations. Hundreds of pe ople have been
extrajudicially executed in Irian Jaya over the past 15 years.
The killings have also occurred outside counter -insurgency operations. Soldiers and
police have opened fire on peaceful protesters, resulting in hundreds of deaths over
the years . Scores of civilians were killed by government troops in the Tanjung Priok
area of Jakarta in September 1984, ostensibly in an effort to control a riotous crowd.
At least 40 civilians, and possibly as many as 100, were killed in February 1989 when
governm ent forces launched a combined land and air assault on a village in Lampung,
which the military claimed was harbouring a Muslim rebel gang. In September 1993

soldiers opened fire on a peaceful protest by farmers in Madura, killing four. The list
of victims continues to grow.
Convicted criminals have also been singled out and arbitrarily killed. Between 1983
and 1985, government death squads summarily executed an estimated 5,000 alleged
criminals in Indonesian cities. In 1989 the President boasted that the k illings were
deliberate government policy: “shock therapy” to bring crime under control. The
government’s “mysterious killing” campaign, as it was known, drew to an end in 1986,
but police forces have continued to employ excessive force in dealing with sus pected
criminals. In early 1994, the Jakarta police force launched “Operation Cleansing”,
aimed at ridding the city of criminal elements before the November summit of the
Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum.
The torture and ill -treatment of poli tical detainees, civilians in areas of rebel activity,
and criminal suspects has become commonplace. Many of the victims have died as a
result. Torture and ill -treatment have been used to obtain political or military
intelligence, to extract confessions, a nd to terrorize and thereby seek to control
individuals or whole communities.
Ever since 1965, arbitrary arrest and detention have formed an essential part of the
government’s armoury for suppressing dissent, gathering military and political
intelligence, and maintaining “order”. More than one million people were detained
for involvement with the Communist Party of Indonesia (PKI) after the 1965 coup.
Hundreds of thousands were held without charge or trial for up to 14 years. In recent
years, those most lik ely to be arbitrarily arrested have been alleged rebels or people
living in areas of suspected rebel activity. In East Timor the authorities have
employed a system of short -term detention, torture and ill -treatment. In other areas
victims have been held in communicado for longer periods without charge or trial. In
Aceh several hundreds, possibly thousands, of people were arbitrarily detained by
military forces between 1989 and 1993, some of them for up to two years. Only about
50 were ever brought to trial. Peaceful protesters, strikers, farmers, students, and
human rights activists have also been arbitrarily detained.
In Indonesia and East Timor more than 3,000 people have been tried and sentenced to
lengthy prison terms, or death, for alleged political crim es since 1965. They include
some 1,000 people accused of involvement in the 1965 coup or membership of the PKI,
at least 25 of whom are still in jail almost 30 years later. Other political prisoners
include some 500 Muslim activists, preachers and scholars ; several hundred advocates
of independence for East Timor, Aceh and Irian Jaya; and scores of university students,

workers, farmers and human rights activists. Many had neither used nor advocated
violence. Some 350 political prisoners are still serving se ntences of up to life
imprisonment.
Political trials in Indonesia and East Timor have consistently fallen short of fair trial
standards, and have often not conformed to Indonesia’s own Code of Criminal
Procedure. This has been particularly true in trials o f people charged under the Anti –
Subversion Law, which permits the suspension of the minimum guarantees and
safeguards contained in the Code of Criminal Procedure. This law carries harsh
punishments, including the death penalty. Virtually all political tria ls in Indonesia and
East Timor have been show trials, intended partly to substantiate the claim that the
New Order is a state based on the “rule of law”, and partly as a warning to potential
dissidents. Only one of thousands of defendants is known to have been acquitted of a
political crime in Indonesia or East Timor.
The government has also used the judicial death penalty, particularly against its
political opponents. Of the 30 people executed since 1985, 27 were political prisoners,
most of whom had serve d more than 20 years in jail. The timing of the executions
suggests they were the result of political considerations. The periodic execution of
political prisoners has served simultaneously as a reminder of the purported need for
“vigilance” against subver sion and as an expression of the ultimate power of the state.
Army personnel and members of elite military units, such as the Special Forces
Command ( Kopassus ), the paramilitary Police Mobile Brigade ( Brimob ) and the anti –
riot squads, have been responsible for most grave violations against suspected
political opponents. Fewer abuses are attributed to members of regular police units,
mainly because they play a minor role in counter -insurgency operations and in the
arrest of political suspects. However, polic e personnel are chiefly responsible for the
torture, ill -treatment and sometimes death, of criminal suspects. Serious violations
have also been committed by members of government -sponsored military and police
auxiliary forces, and by prison guards and offi cials.
The victims of human rights violations in Indonesia and East Timor have come from all
religious and ethnic groups, with little regard to age, gender or social standing. But
the poor and the dispossessed, including farmers, urban slum dwellers and wo rkers,
make up the majority of the victims.
International acquiescence

The international community has, until recently, remained silent in the face of
systematic human rights abuse in Indonesia and East Timor. There is a simple reason
for this silence: from its inception, Indonesia’s New Order government has been an
important friend and ally to the West, and has been spared criticism by its Asian
neighbours and member states of the Non -Aligned Movement (NAM).
With the fourth largest population in the world, a vast store of natural resources and
a huge supply of cheap labour, I ndonesia has always been seen as an economic prize.
The decimation of the PKI in 1965 and 1966, the overthrow of the militant nationalist
Sukarno and his replacement by a staunchly anti -communist military regime
dramatically improved economic opportunities and, just as importantly, offered
substantial political benefits to the West at the height of the Cold War. Sitting astride
critical sea -lanes of Southeast Asia which link the Pacific and Indian Oceans, Indonesia
was then, and remains today, of considerab le strategic importance. As a result, from
1965 and throughout the Cold War, the United States of America (USA) and many
other western countries provided abundant economic, military and political support,
and found it expedient to ignore clear evidence of systematic human rights violations.
Since the Cold War ended, the political imperatives of anti -communism have been
supplanted by a preoccupation with “democratization” and “good governance”. Some
western governments have now begun to voice concern about I ndonesia’s human
rights record, particularly in East Timor. Many expressed outrage over the Santa Cruz
massacre in November 1991; condemnation followed the sentencing of East Timorese
resistance leader Xanana Gusmão in May 1993; and a series of UN resoluti ons and
statements in 1992, 1993 and 1994 openly criticized Indonesia for its poor human
rights record in East Timor.
In a significant shift from previous practice, some governments have taken concrete
measures to underline their human rights concerns. In the aftermath of the Santa
Cruz massacre, for example, the Netherlands announced plans to link economic
assistance to human rights improvements. Canada and Denmark temporarily froze new
development aid commitments, although aid already in the pipeline cont inued to flow.
In 1993 Belgium made bilateral aid commitments conditional on respect for human
rights. In mid -1993 Italy ended all military transfers to Indonesia, citing human rights
concerns.
The US Congress and Administration have also taken significant steps. In 1992 and
again in 1993, Congress cut funds for military education and training to the Indonesian
armed forces, subject to substantial improvements in human rights practices. In 1993

Congress prevented the sale of fighter jets to Indonesia on hum an rights grounds. The
US Government has also warned the Indonesian Government that it might lose its
trading privileges unless it substantially improves labour rights.
Nevertheless, the international community’s response to Indonesia’s human rights
record leaves much to be desired. Many governments, while publicly professing
concern over human rights in Indonesia and East Timor, continue to supply military
equipment to Indonesia, equipment which could be used to commit human rights
violations. Others have provided military training to, or have conducted joint
exercises with, Indonesian armed forces’ units well -known for human rights abuse. In
1993 the British Government approved the sale of 40 jet fighters to the Indonesian
Government; Germany sold three su bmarines and 39 other navy vessels, some
equipped with missile launchers; and the Swiss Government approved the sale of
ammunition and parts for anti -aircraft guns. In mid -1993 the Australian military
conducted joint exercises and training with Indonesia’s counter -insurgency unit,
Kopassus , which has been responsible for grave abuses over many years. In October
1993, the European Commission rejected proposals for an embargo on arms sales to
Indonesia.
While some governments have linked economic assistance t o human rights
performance, most aid donors have increased their level of aid to Indonesia. In the
two years since the Santa Cruz massacre, the Consultative Group on Indonesia (CGI), a
development aid consortium which meets annually to agree bilateral and multilateral
development assistance, has consistently increased its total disbursement. [1] Nor has
concern for human rights had any noticeable impact on trading patterns. T he
willingness of foreign governments to conduct business as usual sends a clear signal
that human rights take second place to economic interests.
Not only do foreign governments continue to provide economic and military support to
the government, they als o turn away refugees from repression in Indonesia. Several
European governments, including Finland, Sweden and the Vatican, have violated
their obligations under international law when dealing with asylum -seekers who
sought refuge in their diplomatic premi ses in Indonesia. Several Asian states,
including Japan, Malaysia and Papua New Guinea, have either refused protection to
asylum -seekers who entered their embassies, or have forcibly returned them to
Indonesia despite the serious risks. Some governments ha ve attempted to justify their
actions by citing assurances from the Indonesian authorities that the asylum -seekers
would not be persecuted if returned or transferred. However, official Indonesian
assurances of the safety of asylum -seekers have been routine ly breached.

An even more fundamental problem is that the international community has focused
almost exclusively on the human rights problem in East Timor and, even there, only
on the most dramatic incidents such as the Santa Cruz massacre. Grave violation s
committed by Indonesian forces in Aceh, Irian Jaya, Java, the capital city, Jakarta,
and throughout the archipelago, have gone virtually unnoticed. On the few occasions
when human rights violations outside East Timor have troubled the international
consc ience, these have been treated as isolated incidents. This report shows that
human rights abuse is not confined to East Timor, and that the killing, torture and
political imprisonment reported from various parts of Indonesia are far from isolated
incidents ; they are part of the pattern of systematic human rights violations which
has unfolded over more than a quarter of a century.
1. A history of repression
Systematic human rights abuse is inextricably linked to the structure of political
power in Indonesi a and specifically to the New Order’s military traditions, political
institutions and ideological orientation. From the perspective of human rights, the key
features of the administration are the considerable political power of the military,
the concentrat ion of executive power in the hands of the President and his immediate
circle, and the enforcement of a strict ideological conformity.
The absence of any check on presidential and executive power has resulted in the
arbitrary use of repressive methods. Thi s pattern has been reinforced by the fact that
the security forces have generally been free to use force and to commit human rights
violations without fear of punishment.
The historical setting
The territory which constitutes present -day Indonesia was co lonized piecemeal by the
Netherlands over some 350 years. By the turn of this century, the colony known as the
Netherlands East Indies encompassed a vast territory and a range of distinct cultural,
religious and linguistic groups. Despite this diversity, b y the 1930s an Indonesian
nationalist movement had united to challenge Dutch rule. Nationalist forces gained
inspiration from the easy defeat of the Dutch colonial regime by Japan in 1942.
Sukarno, the country’s first President, proclaimed Indonesia’s inde pendence on 17
August 1945, shortly after the Japanese surrender. However, it was not until late 1949,
after a four -year fight to resist the return of the Dutch, that the country finally
obtained its freedom. The “National Revolution” firmly established th e political

importance of Indonesia’s newly formed armed forces. By the early 1960s, the army
was one of three major actors in Indonesian politics; the others were Sukarno and the
three -million -strong PKI.
The first 15 years of independence (1950 -1965) lef t important political and human
rights legacies. A Constitution promulgated in 1950 guaranteed the full range of civil
and political rights enumerated in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
However, the country’s experiment with constitutionalism en ded inauspiciously in
1959 when, under pressure from the army, President Sukarno disbanded the
Constituent Assembly and restored the 1945 Constitution by decree. The 1945
Constitution, still in force today, offers only vague guarantees of basic human right s
and concentrates political power in the hands of the executive, especially the
President.
The October 1965 coup
The central political event in Indonesia’s post -independence history was the military
coup of 1965. On 1 October 1965, a handful of middle -ranking army officers loyal to
President Sukarno kidnapped and killed six army generals whom they suspected of
collaboration with the US Central Intelligence Agency and disloyalty to the President.
Although a handful of PKI leaders may have been aware of th e plan, historical
evidence shows that the vast majority of PKI members and supporters had no
knowledge of it, and played no role in it.
Nevertheless, alleged PKI responsibility for the abortive coup, especially for the
murder of the generals, was used by the military, led by General (now President)
Suharto, as a pretext to stage a successful counter -coup. This was the prelude to one
of the worst massacres of this century. In less than one year, between 500,000 and
one million people were killed. The mass k illings were not a spontaneous reaction to
the supposed treachery of the PKI, as the government and the military has always
claimed; they were encouraged, organized and carried out by the Indonesian army
and by vigilante groups acting with military support or acquiescence.
Indonesia’s current government rode to power in the wake of the October coup;
nearly 30 years later, the coup still influences Indonesia’s political life, and official
human rights policy and practice. The official myth of PKI responsibil ity continues to
sustain virulent anti -communism, and to justify the repression of political opposition.
The idea that the PKI “betrayed” the nation has meant that those who killed alleged
communists are revered as national heroes, at least by those curren tly in power.

According to official history, the guilty are not those who ordered the killing of
hundreds of thousands of civilians, but the victims themselves.
The New Order
General Suharto emerged the dominant political figure after the 1965 coup. Back ed
by the army and a variety of anti -communist political groups, he effectively took
control of the country, and was declared President in March 1968. Since then, he has
stood unopposed in five successive elections, most recently in 1993.
Presidential powe r is reflected in the broad powers granted to other parts of the
executive. Members of the President’s inner circle, whether cabinet members or
military officers, enjoy virtually unchecked power. Executive control is exercised
through a massive and highly centralized state bureaucracy, which extends down to
village level. Despite government rhetoric about popular participation in development,
the country is run by executive decision channelled through the state bureaucracy.
Presidential and executive power has been further consolidated through undermining
other political institutions. Outside of the dominant government -backed party, Golkar,
only two political parties are allowed to exist, neither of which has any chance of
winning a majority. [2] Before national elections, held every five years, all candidates
must be screened by military intelligence agencies, and approved by the President.
Candidates deemed ideologically unso und are barred. Political party activity is illegal
between elections. Golkar is officially linked to the military, the executive, and the
civil service. All state employees and officials are required to support it.
The main parliamentary body, the People’ s Consultative Assembly (MPR), meets every
five years to elect the President and to approve an outline of state policy. Only 400 of
its 1,000 members are elected. The others are appointed by the President and the
military. The armed forces’ appointees and the elected representatives also sit in the
People’s Representative Assembly (DPR). The DPR is formally the country’s legislative
body, but its chief function is to rubber -stamp laws tabled by the executive.
Provincial and sub -provincial parliamentary bodi es are similarly powerless.
Military power
After the 1965 coup the army became the dominant political force. The institutions
and the ideology of the Indonesian state have since been moulded by the military,
and its leadership composed of military officers. The New Order Government claims
to be a d emocracy based on the rule of law; in most respects it is a military

authoritarian government. This has had important consequences for human rights
policy and practice.
The methods employed by the military and paramilitary bodies to destroy the PKI
were in stitutionalized after the 1965 coup. Similar methods have been used in
successive counter -insurgency campaigns and in numerous operations to restore
“order”. The use of force and intensive surveillance in response to perceived threats
to national security, has been officially termed “the security approach”. Opposition
groups, and even some elements within the government, have begun to question this
approach in recent years. However, there is little indication that the military is
prepared to relinquish its grip on the country’s political life, or to abandon the
repressive methods which keep it in power.
The Indonesian military has always been organized to deal with domestic rather than
international threats. Troops are deployed throughout the country, under a territorial
structure which penetrates down to village level. At each level, the military has wide –
ranging authority over political, social, and economic, as well as conventionally
military, matters. In principle, the armed forces work with the civilian bureaucracy,
but in practice the word of the military commander is law.
The army’s territorial forces are complemented by a range of elite combat and
paramilitary units, which are principally deployed in counter -insurgency operations.
All are responsible f or grave human rights violations. The most powerful are the
Kopassus units which have been responsible for some of the worst violations in
Indonesia’s history. Other counter -insurgency forces include the paramilitary Brimob ,
the Army Strategic Reserve Comm and ( KOSTRAD ), and the Police Riot Squad.
At the core of the military apparatus is a pervasive intelligence network, operating
through normal command structures, and through a number of semi -autonomous
agencies. One of the most powerful of these is the Coo rdinating Agency for the
Maintenance of National Stability ( Bakorstansas ). The dominance of the intelligence
apparatus within the armed forces has encouraged the development of a highly
intensive system of state surveillance of ordinary citizens, which has facilitated
human rights violations.
Ideological control
The government has not depended exclusively on overt violence to achieve its aims. It
has also relied on tight ideological control. At the core of this system are the state

ideology, Pancasila , th e 1945 Constitution, and key “national goals” such as national
stability, security and order. These goals are portrayed as so fundamental that any
threat to them justifies the use of “firm measures”, including violence, by the state.
Despite official rheto ric about democracy and political openness, it is the executive
and the military authorities who define and interpret the “national goals” and
determine when they have been threatened. As the Chief of the State Intelligence
Coordinating Agency explained in February 1994: “Local human rights groups are
alright so long as they do not deviate from the official policy line”. [3] Pancasila embodies five principles: belief in one G od, humanitarianism, national unity,
democracy and social justice. Criticism of or deviation from Pancasila is punishable by
law. According to Law No. 8 of 1985 all social organizations must adopt Pancasila as
their sole ideology. When it was tabled the la w provoked a storm of protest,
principally from the religious and human rights community. Some of the protesters
were arrested and sentenced to lengthy prison terms for subversion.
The preoccupation with national security, stability and order, and the enfo rcement of
strict ideological conformity, contribute to human rights violations, by restricting
fundamental civil and political rights, and by providing a veneer of legality behind
which to hide blatant abuses. Advocates of independence for East Timor, Ace h and
Irian Jaya; farmers who resist the expropriation of their land; writers who challenge
the state’s interpretation of history; Muslim preachers who criticize Pancasila ;
workers who exercise their right to strike; activists who call for democratization;
students and human rights lawyers who criticize government development policy; and
urban squatters and traders who create “disorder” by their mere existence, are all
vulnerable to accusations of being “subversives”, “communists”, “terrorists” or
“traitors ”. This puts them at risk of arbitrary detention, torture, imprisonment or
death, a powerful deterrent to all but the most courageous.
The importance which the New Order attaches to ideological control can be judged by
the violence of its reaction to any c hallenge, however peaceful. Human rights
violations often occur in response to essentially peaceful protests. The Santa Cruz
massacre in East Timor was officially justified on the grounds that demonstrators
were expressing anti -government sentiments. In Ju ly 1992 the Regional Military
Commander, Major General Mantiri, told the press:
“We don’t regret anything. What happened was quite proper…They were opposing us,
demonstrating, even yelling things against the government. To me that is identical

with rebel lion, so that is why we took firm action…I don’t think there’s anything
strange in that.” [4] Talk of increased openness has given a slightly different gloss to political debate in
Indonesia since the early 1990s, but it has not significantly altered the underlying
pattern of ideological control. Senior officials express enthusiasm for democratization
and human rights protection, but at the same time warn of their inherent threat to
national security and stability. The advocates of “western -style human rights”, liberal
democracy, and environmental protection, are described as subversives and even
labelled “fourth generation communists”.
In December 1993, only months after ca lling for greater political openness, the
President accused peaceful pro -democracy protesters of being communists in disguise
and called for public vigilance:
“They are asking for more freedom to serve their own interests and are willing to
sacrifice the l arger interests. That is against Pancasila…This is a warning for us to
beware of the PKI…The name is different but it is the same movement. We have to
stay alert…. ”. [5] Restrictions on civil and political rights
Government repression is also characterized by heavy restrictions on a wide range of
internationally recognized civil and political rights, such as the freedoms of speech,
assembly, conscience, and movement. These restrictions have helped to create an
atmosphere of fear; dissent is seldom openly expressed. They have also provided the
context for further human rights violations.
Dozens of books are banned each year on the grounds that they express views critica l
of the government or Pancasila , that they contain elements of “Marxist” teachings, or
that they might cause public disorder. Those found in possession of banned books are
arrested, and some have been sentenced to long prison terms. Among the fictional
wo rks currently banned are those of one of Indonesia’s foremost authors, Pramoedya
Ananta Toer, a former political prisoner. Non -fictional works on politics, religion, law
and human rights have also been banned. In 1992 a report on the political trials in
Ac eh, prepared by the independent Legal Aid Institute (LBH), was banned on the
grounds that it portrayed the military authorities in a negative light and could
provoke instability. In 1994 the authorities banned a book which argued that President
Suharto had masterminded the 1965 coup.

The government also imposes temporary bans on public performances and meetings,
including theatrical productions, poetry readings, films, lectures, seminars and
peaceful political gatherings. Seeking to explain a gagging order imposed on the poet
Emha Ainun Najib in 1991, Central Java’s military commander stated:
“We have rules. As long as opinions expressed are concerned with differences over
implementation, there is no problem. But if they venture into matters concerning
Panca sila, that is no longer a question of differences of opinion, and there are
sanctions … We hope for openness, but openness of course has limits. If it goes
beyond the system that we have arranged, then it is not allowed.” [6] The domestic and international media also operate under restrictions, although the
government has developed a system which requires minimal intervention. Censorship
usually takes the form of a warning telephone call or visit from Ministry of Information
officials or military intelligence. This is supplemented by selective legal action against
those who overstep the mark. By revoking the licences of a few publications or
denying visas to foreign journali sts, and by detaining or imprisoning a handful of
journalists and editors, the authorities have encouraged “self -censorship”.
Restrictions on the press are heaviest where government forces are conducting
counter -insurgency operations, but even in areas of relative stability journalists
encounter official obstruction.
The New Order professes a strong commitment to religious freedom, but severely
limits this in law and in practice. The state recognizes only five religious faiths, Islam,
Catholicism, Protestan tism, Buddhism and Hinduism, and acts as the final arbiter and
enforcer of religious orthodoxy. The government has banned or disbanded hundreds of
religious groups and sects over the years, 517 between 1949 and 1992, according to
the Attorney General [7] , and it has arrested members of such groups on charges of
subversion and of involvement in illegal organizations. Under the auspices of
protecting national security and publi c order, government and military authorities
have also interfered directly, sometimes with force, in the internal affairs of
authorized religious bodies.
The government has for many years maintained a “blacklist” of people who may not
leave the country. Ma ny were “blacklisted” because of their non -violent political
activities or beliefs, and their criticism of the government. A government minister
explained in 1991: “…the travel ban is imposed on people who, both here and abroad,
threatened the 1945 Const itution and the Pancasila state ideology, national
development and the government’s authority.” [8] In addition, hundreds of Indonesian

and foreign nationals are not permitt ed to enter the country because of their real or
alleged political beliefs.
Responding to demands for the abolition of “blacklisting”, the government passed a
new Immigration Law in early 1992. This effectively formalized existing procedures,
while adding a number of minor safeguards. In early 1994 the government announced
that 15,000 people had been removed from the “blacklist”, including 11 prominent
opposition figures, many of whom had been “blacklisted” for more than a decade. [9] These were welcome initiatives, but concern remained that the practice of
“blacklisting” itself had not been abolished. More importantly, the new law and the
reduction in the numbers on the offic ial blacklist, to some 2,000, did not affect tens
of thousands of former PKI prisoners who, under different regulations, have been
barred from leaving the country since their release.
Voices of dissent
Official repression has not crushed dissent and opposition. Peaceful opposition to the
government and its policies has come from a range of social and political groups,
including Muslim activists, retired statesmen and army officers, intellectuals, student s,
farmers, and trade unionists.
Restrictions on civil and political rights have made it difficult, or unproductive, for
these groups to express their views through the normal political channels. As a result,
they have often voiced their opinions informall y, in demonstrations and wildcat
strikes, through literature, theatrical performance or in the formation of autonomous
religious communities. Their failure to conform has provided a pretext for heavy –
handed police or military intervention in the name of st ability and order.
Eighty -seven per cent of Indonesia’s population is Muslim, making it the largest
Islamic country in the world. Despite its status as a majority religion, Islam in
Indonesia has often been a focus of dissent against the government. In the first
decades after independence, various Islamic groups challenged the secularism of the
new state, sometimes by resorting to violence. These struggles left a legacy of
concern about the possibility of an Islamic threat to the state.
In recent times, the political challenge from Islam has more often been expressed
peacefully. In the mid -1980s Muslim scholars and activists openly criticized official
economic and social policy and questioned the enforcement of ideological uniformity
at the expense of Islami c teachings. The government reacted by detaining hundreds of

Muslim leaders and enacting legislation aimed at defusing the political power of Islam.
In the past five years, however, the approach has changed. The President and his
circle have tried to woo i nfluential Islamic leaders and intellectuals. Nevertheless,
Islam continues to provide a basis for opposition to certain government policies.
Significant opposition has also come from a group of moderate dissidents drawn from
the ranks of retired military officers and politicians, intellectuals and influential
religious figures. Among the most prominent dissident groups in the past decade has
been the “Petition of Fifty”, named after a petition which it submitted to the
legislature in 1980 in protest at the government’s unconstitutional and authoritarian
style of leadership. Members of the group were subsequently “blacklisted”. In 1993 a
former admiral, responsible for “blacklisting” them, stated: “[Their statements] would have undermined our efforts in obta ining aid. So we barred them as a
preventive step.” [10] Students and young people have also played a key role in Indonesian politics. After
the 1965 coup, they were an ess ential part of the military -civilian coalition that
brought about the destruction of the PKI and the demise of President Sukarno. During
the 1970s they began increasingly to play a role as a voice of opposition against the
New Order, culminating in a serie s of anti -government demonstrations in 1974 and
again in 1978 and 1979. Wary of their power, the government jailed student leaders
and passed legislation to limit their involvement in politics.
This effectively quelled student political activism during the 1980s. However, in the
atmosphere of increased political openness of the early 1990s, students and young
people once again began to play an important role in politics, organizing
demonstrations and campaigns with workers, farmers and others. Students have also
supported broader campaigns for human rights and democratization. These activities
have led them increasingly into conflict with the New Order; dozens have been jailed
as a result.
In recent years, scores of communities have been forced from their la nd to make way
for real estate and development projects. Many of these communities have organized
against eviction or to demand fair compensation for the land they occupy. Most of
these protests have been non -violent, but the authorities have used a variet y of
repressive measures, including intimidation, short -term detention, imprisonment and
ill -treatment, to stop them, and have accused “third parties” of using land issues for
subversive political ends.

Labour activists have also been accused of having sub versive political motives,
particularly in the past three years as Indonesia has experienced a rising tide of
labour unrest. The government imposes heavy restrictions on the right to strike and to
form and join trade unions. Only one trade union federation is recognized, the
government -sponsored All Indonesia Workers’ Union (SPSI). The government has used
various methods, including intimidation and arrest, to undermine independent unions
such as the Indonesian Prosperous Workers’ Union (SBSI). Direct milita ry and police
intervention is routine, even in the most peaceful labour disputes. Military authorities
sometimes resort to ill -treatment, torture, including rape, and killing in order to
silence workers and labour activists. However, military intervention is usually less
violent. Vocal workers are summoned to military headquarters, accused of communist
sympathies, and threatened with imprisonment or physical violence unless they
“resign” from their jobs.
In recent years, strikers have called mainly for impr ovements in working conditions
and wages which, at the equivalent of about US$1.50 per day, are among the lowest
in Asia. Some have also demanded freedom to organize, an end to military
intervention in labour disputes and proper investigations into past hu man rights
abuses against workers. These concerns have been echoed by the office of the US
Trade Representative which, in June 1993, warned that tariff benefits granted to
Indonesian exports might be suspended unless there were significant improvements in
the protection of internationally recognized labour rights.
2. Armed opposition and counter -insurgency
The Indonesian Government has faced long -term opposition from groups seeking
independence for East Timor, Aceh and Irian Jaya. It has responded with in tensive
counter -insurgency operations. In these situations, serious human rights violations,
already routine under conditions of relative calm and political stability, have been
more or less inevitable. Armed opposition groups have also been responsible fo r
serious human rights abuses.
Counter -insurgency campaigns in Aceh, East Timor and Irian Jaya display a chilling
uniformity. Normal legal procedures are relaxed or simply ignored by the authorities,
and the protection of human rights, limited at the best of times, is subordinated to
the exigencies of national security, stability and national unity. Members of the
security forces, and others acting with their support, feel free to commit human
rights violations with impunity. These problems are compounded b y certain

characteristics of the Indonesian armed forces, and in particular of its elite counter –
insurgency units.
The territorial structure of the armed forces facilitates intensive surveillance, check –
points, dawn -to -dusk curfews, house raids, and large -scale arrests. When elite troops
are deployed, the incidence of grave violations increases dramatically. This is partly
because the methods, traditions and mandate of these units entail the use of all
possible means to crush resistance. It is also because their arrival signifies a shift in
the balance of political power in the area. Elite troops are deployed on direct orders
from the President and the Armed Forces Commander. Under such circumstances, the
political authority of the military becomes almost un challengeable; virtually any
means may be used to destroy the “enemy”.
A central element of Indonesian counter -insurgency strategy is “civil -military
cooperation”, officially known as the “People’s total defence and security system”.
Under normal condition s, this is a means of monitoring the community and identifying
political opponents. The dangers to civilians forced to cooperate with the military are
especially evident in situations of civil conflict. In East Timor and Aceh it has resulted
in a tactic kn own as the “fence of legs”, in which villagers are forced to sweep an
area ahead of troops, to flush out rebels and to inhibit them from returning fire.
Local vigilante groups and night patrols made up of civilians but run by the military
are the lynch -pin of these operations. They are usually composed of between 20 and
30 young men from villages in suspected rebel areas. In the words of a local military
commander in Aceh: “The youths are the front line. They know best who the [rebels] are. We then settle t he matter.” [11] The strategy also takes the form of military campaigns encouraging civilians to spy on,
report, or kill suspected rebels. In November 1990 the newly appoin ted Regional
Military Commander in Aceh, Major General H.R. Pramono, said:
“I have told the community, if you find a terrorist, kill him. There’s no need to
investigate him. Don’t let people be the victims. If they don’t do as you order them,
shoot them on the spot, or butcher them. I tell members of the community to carry
sharp weapons, a machete or whatever. If you meet a terrorist, kill him.” [12] East Timor
The island o f Timor lies some 400 miles to the north of Australia and about 1,300
miles from Jakarta. The eastern part of the island, East Timor, was a Portuguese

colony until 1975. In November 1975, following a brief civil war, the Revolutionary
Front for an Independ ent East Timor ( Fretilin ) declared East Timor’s independence.
The following month, on the pretext of ending the civil war, Indonesian forces
invaded the territory and have occupied it ever since.
Indonesia declared East Timor its 27th province in July 1976 , but its sovereignty has
never been recognized by the UN. Some governments, such as the USA, have given de
facto recognition to Indonesia’s claim; the Australian Government has formally
recognized Indonesian sovereignty. However, by mid -1994, the people o f East Timor
had yet to exercise a free and fair act of self -determination.
Armed and peaceful opposition to Indonesian rule has continued since 1975 in spite of
a massive Indonesian military presence and widespread human rights violations. For
much of tha t time, resistance was spearheaded by Fretilin , and its armed wing
Falintil . In the late 1980s a united front, the Maubere Council of National Resistance
(CNRM), was formed, which incorporated Fretilin , the Timorese Democratic Union
(UDT) and other pro -independence groups. Although a small guerrilla force still
operates in East Timor, most opposition to Indonesian rule takes the form of non –
violent underground resistance by farmers, students, young peop le and civil servants.
The Indonesian Government has repeatedly announced plans to withdraw troops from
the territory. However, according to official military figures, nine army battalions,
some 6,000 troops, were deployed in the territory in early 1994. O ne battalion was
withdrawn in late 1993, but was replaced almost immediately by other forces,
including 200 combat troops of the elite Strategic Reserve Command (KOSTRAD), and
a unit of the Police Mobile Brigade ( Brimob ).
Aceh
Aceh, with a population of 3.4 million, lies at the northern tip of the island of
Sumatra, about 1,000 miles from Jakarta. The site of one of the earliest Islamic
sultanates in southeast Asia, Aceh has a rich cultural heritage and a long tradition of
resistance to domination by outs ide authorities. That tradition was rekindled by the
armed independence group, Aceh Merdeka (Free Aceh), which unilaterally declared
Aceh’s independence on 4 December 1976. [13] Popular support for independence has
been fuelled in recent years by resentment over the unequal benefits of industrial
development in the area, and a perceived lack of respect for local custom and
religion by central government and military authorit ies, and economic migrants.

By 1989 Aceh Merdeka had gained the sympathy of a significant cross -section of the
population, particularly in the northeast. However, counter -insurgency operations
begun in mid -1990 dramatically reduced the group’s room for manoeuvre in the
countryside, thereby weakening its military position. In March 1991 government and
military authorities claimed that Aceh Merdeka had been “crushed” and by the end of
the year many of the group’s key field commanders had been killed or captured.
Nevertheless, Aceh Merdeka continued to mount sporadic attacks on military and
police targets.
Irian Jaya
When Indonesia became independent in 1949, Irian Jaya, then known as Netherlands
New Guinea, remained under Dutch control. De facto authority was transferred to
Indonesia on 1 May 1963 and in 1 969 the government held a plebiscite to determine
the territory’s political status. Despite substantial opposition the plebiscite produced
a vote for integration.
Opposition to integration with Indonesia has continued since 1963. Real and perceived
cultura l and racial differences between the indigenous Melanesians of Irian Jaya and
settlers from other parts of Indonesia have been an important source of the political
tension. The resettlement of Indonesian migrants in Irian Jaya, known as
“transmigration”, h as been criticized as an official drive to colonize and assimilate
the local population. The exploitation of the territory’s natural resources by
government -owned and private commercial interests has also caused concern over
traditional rights and environm ental degradation. This has fuelled opposition to
Indonesian rule.
Among the most prominent groups advocating independence has been the Free Papua
Movement (OPM). The number of OPM fighters is officially estimated at a few hundred,
but the number of people who sympathize with the group is much greater. The OPM
advocates armed struggle, but many supporters of independence have employed
peaceful means, including demonstrations, flag -raising ceremonies, political
discussion groups, and appeals to the UN and ot her international bodies.
Human rights abuses by opposition groups
All three main armed opposition groups in Indonesia and East Timor are reported to
have committed human rights abuses, including deliberate and arbitrary killing,
torture and hostage taki ng. Access to the areas concerned is strictly limited and

information about opposition abuses is seldom well -documented, so such reports are
difficult to verify. Nevertheless, Amnesty International believes they must be treated
with the utmost seriousness.
Indonesian authorities have frequently accused Fretilin supporters of human rights
abuses, such as the torture and execution of suspected informers. They have usually
failed to provide sufficient detail about the alleged abuse to allow proper assessment
of its veracity. However, through independent channels, Amnesty International has
received several well -documented reports of opposition abuse. One case, announced
by Fretilin itself, was the deliberate execution, in 1983, of a number of East Timorese
alleg ed to have collaborated with Indonesian forces. Opposition abuses appear to
have continued in more recent years, but on a much reduced scale.
Indonesian military statements and local press reports attributed serious human rights
abuses to Aceh Merdeka in 1 989 and 1990. Initially, the victims were police and
military personnel. Until April 1990 only one civilian, a suspected informer, was
reported to have been killed by Aceh Merdeka . The pattern shifted in mid -1990 with
increasing attacks on civilians. Offic ial reports of attacks on civilians increased
dramatically in May 1990 and escalated in June, just before the government
announced the deployment of additional counter -insurgency troops in the area. The
principal victims were suspected collaborators and no n-Acehnese living in
transmigration sites in Aceh Timur and Aceh Utara. By the end of June, at least 30
civilians had been killed and thousands of transmigrants had fled their homes
following threats and intimidation allegedly from Aceh Merdeka members.
In Irian Jaya, OPM members are said to have been responsible for an armed attack on
a transmigration site near Jayapura in March 1988, in which at least 13 civilians were
killed and some 17 others wounded. Another OPM attack on two transmigration sites
in De cember 1989 resulted in the deaths of at least three people. In November 1990,
OPM guerrillas captured six people, including two foreign missionaries, at Amanab in
Papua New Guinea, and held them hostage for nearly two weeks, demanding Papua
New Guinea’s r ecognition of the independent state of “West Papua”.
Amnesty International condemns such abuses, and calls upon the leadership of the
three main armed opposition groups to halt such practices and to abide by the
principles of international humanitarian law . However, the actions of armed
opposition groups, no matter how violent, can never be used to justify human rights
violations by government forces. Governments bear a unique responsibility to uphold

and protect human rights. If they show contempt for huma n rights, others are likely
to feel free to do likewise.
3. Law and impunity
Indonesian government and military authorities claim the New Order is based on the
rule of law rather than political power. This is only partly true. Like any legal system,
Indo nesia’s both reflects and sustains the prevailing structure of political power. The
dominance of the military and the executive in Indonesia are manifest in four related
aspects of the legal system: the lack of an independent judiciary; repressive laws and
regulations; the arbitrary implementation of the law; and the failure to bring human
rights violators to justice.
A dependent judiciary
In law, the Indonesian judiciary is independent of the executive; the reality is very
different. Limitations on judic ial independence are particularly evident in political
cases, where the military has unquestioned authority, public prosecutors do the
government’s bidding, and judges avoid rulings which would embarrass the
government or the security forces.
This lack of independence is partly an institutional problem. The courts are
administered by the Ministry of Justice. Judges, court officials and public prosecutors
are therefore dependent on the executive branch for their salaries, promotions and
other benefits. Those who defy the executive and the military may find their career
prospects limited.
Several laws and regulations undermine the independence of the judiciary. All
government employees, including judges, must be members of the sole civil servant’s
organization , KORPRI, which operates under the auspices of the powerful Ministry of
Home Affairs. The President may intervene directly in judicial matters, by indicating
cases which he wishes to see pursued. The Supreme Court may determine whether
government decrees a nd instructions conform with basic laws, but does not have the
power of full judicial review.
The judiciary’s lack of independence is more than an institutional or legal problem.
Even where the system provides formal guarantees of autonomy and impartiality ,
these are routinely undermined, particularly by the military. Whatever the law may
say, the judiciary is an arm of the regime. This has been evident in virtually all

political trials, in pre -trial hearings, and in the fact that the perpetrators of human
rights violations are seldom brought to justice.
Repressive legislation
A wide array of repressive laws and regulations have been used to imprison, and even
put to death, real or alleged political opponents, and to warn potential dissidents
against oppos ition. The laws also contain procedural provisions which encourage other
violations. Significant improvements in new laws on the judiciary and in the new Code
of Criminal Procedure have been undermined by official indifference and non –
compliance.
The curre nt Criminal Code is inherited from the colonial period. Conscious of the need
to rid the legal system of the legacy of the past, the government has undertaken to
amend it. This initiative is unlikely to have an impact on the bulk of Indonesia’s
repressive legislation. The Draft Criminal Code, currently under review, incorporates
virtually all previous national security laws without significant amendment. In any
case, much of the most repressive legislation is contained in presidential and
ministerial decree s, directives and decisions, which are largely unaffected by the
Criminal Code.
The Anti -Subversion Law
A cornerstone of Indonesia’s repressive legislation is the Anti -Subversion Law.
Originally promulgated as a Presidential Decree in 1963, this law has been used to
justify the detention without trial of hundreds of thousands of alleged government
opponents, and to put thousands more through show trials. The vague and sweeping
language of the law permits the prosecution and conviction of anyone whose word s or
actions can be construed as disruptive of public order, or critical of Pancasila , the
government, its institutions or its polices.
The Anti -Subversion Law also facilitates other human rights violations, such as
incommunicado detention, torture, “disap pearance” and extrajudicial execution. Key
provisions of the Code of Criminal Procedure designed to protect the rights of
detainees either do not apply, or are commonly ignored, when the authorities invoke
the Anti -Subversion Law. It provides harsher penal ties than other laws on political
crimes, including the death penalty. The standards of evidence required to produce a
conviction for subversion are also much less rigorous, so that the law is commonly
used where the authorities cannot find adequate eviden ce. The exceptional powers

granted to the military and the prosecution under this law, and the heavy restrictions
it imposes on detainees’ rights, make serious human rights violations almost
inevitable.
Lawyers, parliamentarians, and international human ri ghts experts, including the UN
Special Rapporteur on torture, have called repeatedly for the repeal of the Anti –
Subversion Law. Some claim that it is unconstitutional, others that its content
contravenes prevailing legal principles and norms. All agree tha t it has been an
instrument of repression.
The Anti -Subversion Law continues to be widely used; both government and judicial
authorities have opposed its abolition. Government officials have actually argued for
extending the law’s scope. Their arguments reveal the dangers inherent in this law.
Resp onding to calls for abolition in early 1993, the Attorney General accused the
abolitionists of subversion:
“Those who say that the Anti -Subversion Law is unpopular, are those who have the
intention of committing subversive acts themselves.” [14] There are indications that the Anti -Subversion Law will be incorporated, with minor
revisions, into the new Criminal Code. In practice this is unlikely to make much
difference; it ma y simply give the law more permanence and legitimacy. The only way
to impose limits is to get rid of the law altogether, for it has proved utterly subject to
abuse.
The Hate -sowing Articles
A series of articles which forbid “spreading hatred” against gov ernment officials are
also due to be retained in the new Criminal Code. The Hate -sowing Articles ( Haatzaai
Artikelen ) were introduced by the Dutch colonial administration in the early 1900s
and, with the rest of the colonial criminal code, were incorporate d into Indonesia’s
Criminal Code after independence. Faced with strong criticism of the Anti -Subversion
Law, the government has recently turned to the Hate -sowing Articles to imprison, or
to intimidate, alleged political opponents.
Articles 154, 155 and 16 0 are frequently used to suppress dissent. Under Article 154,
“…the public expression of feelings of hostility, hatred or contempt toward the
government…” is punishable by up to seven years’ imprisonment. Article 155
prohibits the expression of such fe elings or views through the public media, with a
maximum penalty of four -and -a-half years’ imprisonment. Article 160 prescribes a

maximum of six years’ imprisonment for “inciting” others to disobey a government
order or to break the law. Article 134, altho ugh not usually described as one of the
Hate -sowing Articles, punishes “insulting the President” with a maximum sentence of
six years’ imprisonment. Dozens of peaceful protestors have been jailed as prisoners
of conscience under these articles.
The Code o f Criminal Procedure
It is not only repressive laws which have contributed to the human rights problem in
Indonesia, but the often arbitrary way in which even the best laws have been
implemented. Laws which provide some protection for detainees or defenda nts are
often emasculated by official regulations on their implementation. Even in the
absence of such regulations, laws which protect the rights of ordinary citizens or
which circumscribe the power of the state, are frequently ignored by government and
mi litary officials. This is most evident in the implementation of the Code of Criminal
Procedure.
Introduced in 1981, the Code of Criminal Procedure was justly hailed by legal experts
as a significant improvement over its predecessor, particularly in the pro tection it
offered the rights of detainees and defendants. In practice, key provisions in the Code
are often ignored, or their implementation obstructed. For example, detainees are
entitled to have a lawyer but many do not have one at the time of interroga tion.
Police and military authorities regularly deny detainees access to relatives and
lawyers and obstruct their efforts to provide legal aid.
The effectiveness of the provisions in the Code are undermined by Ministry of Justice
guidelines for their imple mentation. One guideline stipulates that suspects may have
access to a lawyer only during working hours; interrogation frequently occurs at night,
outside working hours. Moreover, the Code does not require investigating authorities
to inform legal counsel of their intention to interrogate a suspect, and as a matter of
course they prefer not to do so. Another ministerial guideline requires that a prison
official be present during conversations between detainees and their lawyers,
whereas the Code indicates t hat lawyers should be free to talk in confidence with
their clients in prison.
The guarantees in the Code are not backed by effective legal sanctions against non –
compliance. The Code forbids the use of duress to extract information from a suspect
or witnes s, but there is no clear rule excluding the use in court of evidence or
testimony improperly obtained by the authorities. An accused may complain in court

that a confession or testimony was extracted under duress, but the judge decides
whether to admit the complaint as evidence. Judges usually dismiss or ignore such
pleas, and sometimes threaten defendants with legal action for perjury.
In addition, the judiciary’s lack of independence means that judges are disinclined to
pursue alleged breaches of the Code which emerge during a trial. Although the system
of pre -trial hearings introduced in the 1981 Code should allow for some control in
cases where torture has been used in investigations, judges are reluctant to rule
against the police or other state authori ties.
These problems are especially acute in the case of political detainees. Certain
guarantees in the Code of Criminal Procedure do not apply to detainees accused of
subversion. While the Code limits pre -trial detention, and requires judicial approval
of detention beyond 60 days, the Anti -Subversion Law allows detention for periods of
one year, renewable indefinitely on the authority of the Attorney General. In effect,
this means that political suspects can be held indefinitely at the discretion of the
local or regional military commander. The Code clearly states that only the police are
authorized to carry out arrests and investigations, but in political cases military
authorities assume these responsibilities. The Anti -Subversion Law also grants the
secu rity forces expanded powers of search and seizure, and imposes much heavier
restrictions on detainees’ access to legal assistance, relatives and doctors. In the rare
event that an allegation of torture or ill -treatment is formally raised in court by a
deta inee, members of the judiciary tend to be even more reluctant than usual to take
remedial action.
Human rights and impunity
In law the perpetrators of human rights violations can be brought to justice. Most of
the acts that constitute or contribute to hu man rights violations are punishable under
civil and military law. In practice, human rights abuses are seldom properly
investigated, and few of those responsible are brought to justice. Members of the
security forces are effectively granted immunity from punishment for wrongdoing.
Existing procedures for seeking redress or compensation for the victims of human
rights violations are also broadly ineffective.
The problem of impunity is most conspicuous where the suspected perpetrators are
members of the mili tary, and the victims are alleged government opponents. Only
two soldiers have been convicted of a human rights offence in the past five years.
Police officers, prison officials, and police -trained security guards also commit

violations with relative impun ity. This contributes to, and helps to institutionalize,
the cycle of human rights violations.
The story of Sofyan Lubis, a shoeshine boy aged 16, who died in the Tanjung Gusta
Children’s Prison in Medan in September 1992, is typical of many. Prison offici als
claimed that Sofyan Lubis suddenly became ill and died on the way to hospital.
However, an autopsy concluded that his death had been “unnatural”. Shortly after his
death, prison officials tried to pre -empt legal action by asking his father to sign a
statement promising not to file civil or criminal charges. He refused to do so. Sofyan’s
corpse bore clear signs of torture, according to relatives and lawyers; his stomach,
chest and neck were severely bruised, two teeth were missing, and blood was coming
from his mouth, nose, ears and genitals. A prisoner in a neighbouring cell said that
she had heard screams coming from Sofyan’s cell on the night of his death. A Ministry
of Justice investigation concluded that Sofyan Lubis had not died of torture, but when
challenged by doctors and relatives, the Ministry admitted its report was “not
accurate”. While the case remained in the public eye, government officials promised
that it would be investigated thoroughly and that those responsible would be brought
to just ice. However, by mid -1994 no prison officer had been charged in connection
with Sofyan Lubis’s death.
The ineffectiveness of domestic mechanisms for bringing the perpetrators of human
rights violations to justice highlights the importance of international standards and
avenues for redress. Yet, despite its stated commitment to universal human rights
standards, the Indonesian Government is not party to any of the major human rights
treaties which proscribe serious human rights violations, such as the Interna tional
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the Convention against Torture and
Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT). Nor has it
implemented the majority of UN recommendations on human rights in Indonesia and
East Ti mor made since 1992.
Investigations
One of the primary causes of impunity in Indonesia is that investigations into alleged
human rights violations are nearly always conducted by the security forces, and
usually by members of the very unit believed to be responsible.
Even where investigations are formally handled by other government authorities, such
as the Ministry of Justice or specially appointed commissions, the hand of the military
is never far removed, and the results are much the same.

In most cases , military and government authorities respond to allegations of human
rights abuse with a flat denial, pre -empting any investigation whatsoever. When the
facts of abuse are irrefutable, the authorities attempt to justify them by invoking the
interests of n ational security, stability and unity. Such statements often deflect
demands for an inquiry; they also create a climate conducive to further violations. If
a case of human rights abuse becomes the subject of intensive public complaint or of
international s crutiny, military and police authorities generally give assurances that
“appropriate measures” will be taken against the perpetrators if internal
investigations reveal them to be at fault. Yet even in the most serious cases of abuse,
they insist that the i nvestigations must be conducted by military or police authorities,
and that the findings need not be made public.
Strong domestic and international criticism sometimes results in investigations by
other government authorities. However, these display many o f the same defects as
investigations by military and police officials. First, the lack of independence and
impartiality of official investigations, and the fear of retribution, often inhibits
witnesses from testifying openly. Second, the nature and conduct of the investigations
usually remain obscure, so that there can be no independent verification of their
findings. Third, when scrutinized these findings are often found to be false and aimed
at whitewashing the role of the security forces. Fourth, officia l investigations into
serious human rights violations almost always attempt to deflect attention from
official responsibility by claiming the security forces were “provoked” by government
opponents. Finally, the mandate and terms of reference of such inves tigations often
prevent any discussion of the root causes of human rights violations.
Most of these shortcomings were highlighted by the official investigations of the Santa
Cruz massacre of 12 November 1991 (see pages 50 to 54). Facing increasing
internat ional and domestic criticism, the government formed a National Commission
of Inquiry to investigate the massacre. The commission’s findings were released a
month later. After examining that report, Amnesty International concluded that the
commission’s comp osition and methods of work were fatally flawed, and that many of
its findings were unacceptable. The commission did not meet the criteria of
independence, impartiality, and credibility required by the UN Principles for the
Effective Prevention and Investi gation of Extra -Legal, Arbitrary and Summary
Executions. Members of the commission did not possess the technical expertise to
conduct an investigation which required a thorough search for mass burial sites, full
exhumations and the performance of autopsies . Most commission members had close
links to the government or the military, and its interviews with eye -witnesses, most of

them held in prison or military hospital, could not have been conducted confidentially.
As a result most East Timorese were afraid t o testify before the commission.
These problems were reflected in the commission’s findings, which gave undue
credence to military accounts of the incident while ignoring or misconstruing evidence,
including eye -witness testimony, which contradicted the of ficial version. Its report
accused members of the funeral procession of “provoking” the massacre, while
keeping criticism of the police and military to the barest minimum. The effect was to
suggest that the peaceful expression of political dissent justifie d the use of lethal
force or other unlawful measures against civilians. More than two years after the
investigation, the government had yet to identify the vast majority of those killed;
nor had it accounted for more than 200 people who “disappeared” after the massacre.
Punishment
Torture, murder and kidnapping are criminal offences under Indonesian law. They are
also prohibited in the Military Penal Code and in a variety of ministerial regulations.
Other provisions of the Military Code are designed to curtail the abuse of authority by
members of the security forces and to ensure that commanding officers take
responsibility for crimes committed by their subordinates. These laws and provisions
could be used to prosecute those responsible for human rights violations as well as
their co mmanding officers, but the political and legal obstacles any such action faces
means that the perpetrators are seldom punished.
Army personnel and members of elite counter -insurgency units are the least likely to
be prosecuted for human rights crimes. Poli ce officers are marginally more likely to
be tried and convicted, and generally receive light sentences. Those found guilty of
torturing a prisoner to death have seldom been sentenced to more than three years’
imprisonment; sentences of a few months are th e norm. Heavier sentences are
handed down to police auxiliaries and prison guards. This hierarchy of impunity
mirrors the relative political power of the different services and units. It also reflects
the fact that police auxiliaries and prison guards are tried in civilian courts, which are
open to public scrutiny, while army and police personnel are tried in military courts,
which are not.
On the few occasions when members of the security forces have been found
responsible for serious violations, or where political pressure for government action
has become insurmountable, they have been “disciplined”. Disciplinary action can
include demotion, transfer, dismissal, or the performance of military drill. Such

punishments have been meted out in a few highly publ icized recent cases. To the
extent that such measures are virtually unprecedented, they could be seen as an
improvement; some effort is being made to punish the perpetrators. Yet, in
themselves such disciplinary measures are hardly sufficient. If they are used as a way
of shielding the perpetrators from more serious punishment, as often appears to be
the case, then they may actually contribute to the problem of impunity.
Very few military or police personnel ever suffer more serious punishment, such as
impr isonment. In fact, most cases never reach the trial stage, even where there is
substantial evidence of responsibility. The government’s lack of enthusiasm for
punishing the perpetrators of human rights violations stands in marked contrast to the
energy dev oted to punishing political opponents.
Here again, the government’s response to the Santa Cruz massacre is revealing. In
early 1992 military authorities set up a Military Honour Council which was charged
with investigating military responsibility. Followin g the recommendations of the
Council, 10 members of the security forces were tried for disciplinary offences in June
1992, and a number of high -ranking officers were removed from their posts. This was
an unprecedented move. Yet, despite as many as 270 kill ings and substantial evidence
of torture during and after the massacre, none of those tried was charged with
murder and only one, a police corporal, was charged with assault. All received
sentences of between eight and 18 months’ imprisonment. In contrast, East Timorese
accused of organizing the peaceful procession were tried and sentenced to terms of
up to life imprisonment after being convicted of subversion or other political crimes.
Given Indonesia’s system of military justice, the infrequency of prosec utions for
human rights crimes and the lightness of sentencing is not surprising. Military officers
decide whether or not to proceed with a case, and criminal charges are heard before
a military court. As with many military court systems, Indonesia’s has a reputation for
protecting members of the security forces who claim they were acting in the line of
duty. Military court proceedings are closed to the public thereby removing a
fundamental safeguard of judicial independence. Finally, the verdicts issued by
military courts, if indeed they find the defendant guilty, are seldom made public,
which diminishes their deterrent value.
Redress and compensation
Existing procedures for the redress and compensation of victims and relatives are
ineffective and cumbers ome. Members of the public with a human rights grievance

face the daunting prospect of complaining to the very authorities they believe to be
responsible. For most, particularly the economically disadvantaged or politically
vulnerable, this is an insurmoun table obstacle. Those who submit a complaint may
face threats or physical violence from those they have accused. Only if families have
the resolve and the financial means to push beyond this stage is there any chance of a
fuller inquiry or legal proceeding s.
Virtually the only institutional mechanism of bringing a complaint is the system of
pre -trial hearings, introduced with the Code of Criminal Procedure in 1981. In theory,
these hearings provide an opportunity for detainees to challenge the legality of a rrest
and interrogation procedures. Yet the system has so seldom resulted in a finding
against the arresting authorities that even the most experienced lawyers regard it as
a waste of time. Even when the courts have found against a member of the security
forces, that decision has seldom had any effect on the outcome of the trial of the
person wrongfully arrested or ill -treated.
The only alternative is for victims or their relatives to bring a civil suit for damages
against members of the security forces or prison officials. This is an expensive, time
consuming and onerous process and plaintiffs may face harassment and the threat of a
counter -suit for damaging the reputation of the security forces. The final injustice is
that those who win such suits can wait years before receiving any compensation.
The shortcomings of the procedure are highlighted by the case of Leman, who was
beaten to death by prison guards in 1986, while serving a six -month term for petty
theft at Cipinang Prison, Jakarta. Leman’s family i nitiated both a criminal case and a
civil suit for damages. In August 1987 a court found two guards guilty of causing
Leman’s death but sentenced them to just a few months in jail. In December 1990,
more than four years after the case had entered the court s, the Supreme Court found
in favour of Leman’s family, awarding them damages of Rp 1 million (about US$500).
By mid -1994, they had yet to receive any money.
4. Extrajudicial execution
Arbitrary execution is an important element of the government’s system of
maintaining political “stability” and “order”. Although especially common during
counter -insurgency operations, extrajudicial executions are also a central component
of the governmen t’s response to other perceived threats to national security,
including peaceful protests, the establishment of “unorthodox” religious communities,
and criminal activity.

Three basic types of extrajudicial killing are discernible in Indonesia and East Timo r.
First, there are deliberate secret killings of political prisoners in custody, sometimes
after they have “disappeared”. Second, there are killings which result from the
deliberate use of excessive force in dealing with crowds or religious communities.
Third, there are targeted “mysterious killings” by unidentified government death
squads.
The precise techniques of killing differ somewhat according to the circumstances in
which they occur. Deliberate killings in custody, following “disappearance”, tend to
occur where troops are engaged in counter -insurgency operations. Killings resulting
from excessive use of force against crowds have more often occurred outside rebel
areas. The technique of “mysterious killing” has been used with almost equal
frequency bo th against alleged rebels and suspected criminals. The most striking
aspect of extrajudicial executions in Indonesia and East Timor is the broad similarity
of the techniques employed in different political contexts. This suggests that unlawful
killing is a central aspect of government policy.
A similar uniformity marks the government’s response to allegations of unlawful
killings. The government has typically issued blanket denials of reports of
extrajudicial executions and, with a few notable exceptions, h as failed to conduct
thorough and impartial investigations or to bring the perpetrators of such crimes to
justice.
East Timor
As many as 270 civilians were killed on 12 November 1991, and immediately
thereafter, when government troops opened fire on a pe aceful procession at the
Santa Cruz cemetery, in Dili. Most were shot while attempting to flee and others were
beaten and stabbed. There were reports that dozens of people, including witnesses,
were killed in the following weeks; some were recovering from their wounds in a
military hospital.
The victims were among some 2,000 people who had joined a procession to the
cemetery following a memorial mass for Sebastião Gomes, reportedly killed by
Indonesian security forces on 28 October 1991. The shooting took p lace five to 10
minutes after the crowd had reached the cemetery. Some banners had been hung,
people talked among themselves and a number shouted pro -independence slogans
such as “Long live East Timor!”. At that point, a large contingent of armed soldiers
arrived, some on foot, others in vehicles.

Tension rose as the soldiers approached; people began to move away in fear.
According to eye -witnesses, the foot soldiers marched to the entrance of the
cemetery, formed a line about 12 men abreast, then opened fi re on the crowd. No
warning was given. Many of the dead were shot in the back.
The walls of the cemetery and the large number of people made it difficult to escape,
but the shooting continued even as people tried to flee. An eye -witness said that
minutes a fter the shooting began he saw about 100 bodies lying on the ground.
Witnesses who had taken cover inside the cemetery said they saw soldiers beating
wounded people with truncheons and the butts of their weapons. One foreigner,
discovered by soldiers while hiding in the cemetery, said:
“I left the crypt with at least 10 people bleeding profusely and several dead. All the
way to the entrance of the cemetery I was confronted by soldiers brandishing knives
and thrusting them towards my face. I was kicked and b eaten and had guns put to my
head while they screamed at me.”
One of the dead was Domingos Segurado, who taught at the Portuguese language
school in Dili. An activist in the underground resistance, he was one of the organizers
of the protest, and had been in hiding for several weeks before. A reporter whom
Domingos Segurado helped, remembers him as “an extremely gentle man… trying to
bring about change in a non -violent way”.
After the massacre, the bodies of the dead were loaded onto military trucks and
buried in unmarked graves or dumped at sea. At least 91 of the wounded were taken
to military hospital and an estimated 300 people were arrested in mopping -up
operations. There were credible reports that some of those in hospital were ill –
treated, and that some were deliberately “finished off”. Military authorities
prevented relatives, the UN Special Rapporteur on torture and representatives of the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) from visiting those in prison and
hospital.
There were unconfirmed reports that another 60 to 80 people were killed on 15
November, and their bodies buried in large unmarked graves outside Dili. According to
these reports, the victims were taken in military trucks from various prisons in Dili to
a p lace on the outskirts of town. Before being loaded onto the trucks, the prisoners
were reportedly made to strip naked, blindfolded and had their hands tied behind
their backs. They were reportedly taken to the edge of newly dug ditches and shot
with automa tic weapons.

Facing a storm of local and international protest, Indonesian government and military
authorities expressed regret at the loss of life at Santa Cruz and promised a prompt
investigation (see pages 44 to 45). However, from the outset, they attem pted to
justify the action of the security forces and to place responsibility for the massacre on
the mourners themselves. Military authorities claimed that soldiers had been forced
to shoot when “the mob attacked them brutally”. Such claims were at odds w ith eye –
witness testimony, and other evidence including film footage, that the procession was
peaceful and that the soldiers fired without warning and without provocation. Some
military officials took a more bellicose stance. One day after the massacre, th e
Commander of the Armed Forces (now Vice -President), General Try Sutrisno, said that
people in the procession had “spread chaos” by unfurling posters with slogans
discrediting the government, and by shouting “many unacceptable things”. In
response, he sai d, the soldiers had fired shots into the air, “…but they persisted with
their misdeeds…In the end, they had to be shot. These ill -bred people have to be
shot…and we will shoot them”.
Aceh
Some 2,000 civilians, including children and the very elderl y, were killed by
Indonesian soldiers in or near the province of Aceh between 1989 and 1993. Some died
in public executions; others were killed secretly and their often mutilated bodies
were left in public places. Scores of the dead were dumped in mass gra ves. The
timing of the killings, the methods and techniques employed, and the public
comments made by military officers in the region, strongly suggest that extrajudicial
execution was a deliberate part of counter -insurgency strategy. By mid -1994 the
autho rities had not initiated any investigation into the killings, and no member of the
security forces had been punished.
Summary or arbitrary executions by government forces were initially reported in 1989,
shortly after the first Aceh Merdeka attacks, and in termittent reports continued
through the first half of 1990. However, extrajudicial executions on a mass scale
appear to have begun in July 1990, immediately after the President ordered the
deployment of some 6,000 counter -insurgency troops. This was also the point at which
the pattern of “mysterious killings”, responsible for hundreds of civilian deaths,
began to emerge.
The “mysterious killings” in Aceh had the following general features. The corpses of
victims were usually left in public places, apparent ly as a warning to others not to
join or support the rebels. Most had clearly been prisoners when they were killed.

Their thumbs, and sometimes their feet, had been tied together with a particular
type of knot. Most had been shot at close range, though the bullets were seldom
found in their bodies. Most also showed signs of having been beaten with a blunt
instrument or tortured, and their faces were often unrecognizable. Most of the bodies
were not recovered by relatives or friends, both out of fear of retr ibution by the
military and because the victims were usually dumped some distance from their home
villages.
One of the victims was Teungku Ahmad Lutan, a suspected Aceh Merdeka supporter.
He was tortured and killed in military custody in May 1990. Accordin g to eye -witnesses,
soldiers of Battalion 111 arrested Teungku Ahmad Lutan in Idi Cut, Peureulak, and
took him to their camp in nearby Tualang Cut for interrogation. Three days later his
mutilated body was dumped in a ditch near his home. When local reside nts found him,
his hands were tied behind his back, his head was smashed, and his body bore signs of
torture. His relatives were afraid to pick up the body for fear of retribution from the
military. When other villagers went to retrieve the corpse, they we re confronted by
soldiers who demanded: “What do you think you’re doing burying him? Don’t you
know he’s a rebel?”.
Most victims of extrajudicial execution were villagers living in areas of suspected
rebel activity. One objective of the killings was appare ntly to terrorize the local
population so that they would cooperate with the security forces in tracking down
alleged rebels. However, some villagers were killed in reprisal for the death of a
soldier, or for failing promptly to obey a military command. Wh en soldiers were
unable to find or kill a rebel suspect, they often took revenge on their friends or close
relatives.
Djamilah Abubakar, aged 24 and the wife of a suspected Aceh Merdeka member, was
shot dead in military custody in March 1991. Djamilah’s en counters with the military
began in mid -June 1989, when dozens of soldiers came to the family home searching
for her husband, a fisherman named Mohammad Jasin bin Pawang Piah. When she told
the soldiers that he was at sea and would be gone for several days , they shouted
“You’re lying!”. They forced her at gunpoint to admit that her husband was an Aceh
Merdeka member. One soldier then ordered her to undress, and jabbed her body with
his rifle. When Jasin returned home several days later, he found his house b urned to
the ground and learned that Djamilah had gone to another village to stay with
relatives. She remained there for about six months, until soldiers came to that area
warning villagers not to give shelter to those linked with Aceh Merdeka , and
mention ing her by name as a suspect. In early 1990 she fled to another village and

remained there for about a year. However, on about 24 March 1991, shortly after
Jasin had visited her, she was arrested by soldiers. Two days later her corpse was
found by the road side in a village some 15 kilometres away. Her head was smashed
and she had been shot in the chest.
Not all victims of unlawful killing in Aceh were left in public places. Many were
thrown into mass graves, some of which reportedly contained hundreds of bo dies.
According to one report, a group of 56 detainees were summarily executed by
Indonesian troops on 12 September 1990 at Bukit Panglima, on the road between
Bireuen and Takengon. Witnesses said the detainees were ordered off the military
trucks in which they were being transported, lined up on the edge of a ravine, and
shot. According to another report, a mass grave containing some 200 bodies was
discovered near the village of Alue Mira in mid -1990. The Regional Military
Commander disputed the number of corpses but did not deny the existence of the
grave. In November 1990 he told a journalist:
“The grave certainly exists but I don’t think it could have been 200 bodies. It’s hard
to tell with arms and heads all mixed up.” [15] While they have formally denied responsibility for arbitrary killings, government and
military authorities have made public statements which condone and even encourage
the use of extrajudicial executio n in counter -insurgency operations. In May 1990
General Try Sutrisno admitted military responsibility for some “accidental” civilian
deaths in Aceh, but attempted to justify them by saying: “If there were victims on the
civilian side, that was something th at could not be avoided.” [16] Commenting on the
public display of corpses, six months later, a military officer in Aceh said: “Okay, that
does happen. But the rebels use t errorist strategies so we are forced to use anti –
terrorist strategies.” [17] Asked whether the “mysterious killings” were intended as
“shock therapy”, the Regional Military Commander, Major General H.R. Pramono,
replied:
“As a strategy, that’s true. But our goal is not bad…We only kill them if they are
[Aceh Merdeka] members.” [18] The scal e of killing in Aceh has diminished since late 1991. With the arrest, death or
flight of Aceh Merdeka’s field commanders, there is no military or political rationale
for continued extrajudicial executions. However, there has been no fundamental
change in t he counter -insurgency strategy employed by the Indonesian armed forces,
a central component of which is the killing of civilians in guerrilla base areas. If Aceh

Merdeka were to increase its activities, the pattern of political killings would
probably re -emerge almost immediately. Just as importantly, the fate of most of
those killed in past years has yet to be clarified, there have been no investigations
into the killings, and no official condemnation of the practice.
Irian Jaya
Hundreds of real or suspe cted supporters of independence in Irian Jaya have been
killed by Indonesian forces conducting counter -insurgency operations in the territory.
Many of the victims were OPM fighters killed in combat, but some OPM fighters were
deliberately killed in militar y custody, while other victims were civilians.
In 1990 government security forces reportedly shot and beheaded a man they
suspected of OPM membership. Eye -witnesses said that soldiers shot Soleman Daundi
shortly after he surrendered to local authorities in Napdari village in May 1990. The
soldiers reportedly cut off his head and took it to the local military headquarters at
Wardo, displaying it in more than a dozen villages along the way. According to reports,
Soleman Daundi’s head was also shown to militar y officers at the Military Resort
Command (KOREM 173) and the Military District Command (KODIM 1708). It was then
handed over to a priest in Wardo and buried. Soleman Daundi had apparently been
involved in a pro -independence flag -raising ceremony in Sopen in December 1989 and
had subsequently gone into hiding.
Despite restrictions on access to Irian Jaya by independent observers, Amnesty
International has continued to receive credible reports of such killings in recent years,
many of them along the Indonesi a-Papua New Guinea border. Thirteen people were
reportedly killed and eight wounded by Indonesian soldiers in October 1993 in Yapsie
village, approximately 12 kilometres inside Papua New Guinea. Those reportedly
killed were named as: Adolf Tablop, Betimeus Tablop, Dariana Hawngap, Diman
Kakadi, Januarius Hawngap, Junus Tablop, Matina Tablop, Mayana Hawngap, Obeth
Tablop, Okbom Tablop, Philipus Hawngap, Pius Kalamabin and Susana Bawi. Eye –
witnesses said that the soldiers surrounded the village and opened fir e. Among those
seriously wounded in the attack were Naok Naplo, who was said to have been
bayoneted in the neck, and Robert Tablo, who had two fingers shot from his hand.
These injuries were said to have been inflicted after the two men had raised their
ha nds in surrender.
Peaceful protesters

Government forces have killed hundreds of civilians in areas of relative political
stability, including the islands of Java and Sumatra and the capital city, Jakarta. In
1993 the victims included four villagers peace fully protesting against eviction from
their land; four members of a religious community thought to pose a challenge to
government authority; and a worker involved in a peaceful industrial dispute.
The killings of peaceful demonstrators and attacks on vuln erable communities reveal
certain similarities in the behaviour and the attitudes of the security forces. There is
the tradition of political repression, characterized by intolerance of political
opposition before overt force is used. There is a pattern in official justifications for
such killings, typified by attempts to accuse the victims of provoking government
forces. Finally, there is the routine failure to conduct thorough and impartial
investigations and to bring the perpetrators to justice.
The Nip ah dam killings
Four people were killed and three others injured when security forces opened fire on
some 500 peaceful demonstrators at the proposed site of the Nipah dam on the island
of Madura on 25 September 1993. They were protesting against the const ruction of
the dam, which would flood their land and submerge four villages. Those killed were
Mutirah, a mother of three aged 51, a 14 -year -old schoolboy named Nindin bin Musa,
a 28 -year -old man named Samuki P. Supriadi, and another man, Muhammad, who die d
five days later of his injuries.
According to independent sources, the killings occurred as villagers, many of them
women and children, approached a team of government surveyors, accompanied by at
least 20 police and military personnel, to voice their op position to the project. The
shooting reportedly began on orders from the commander of the Banyuates Sub –
District Military Command (KORAMIL). A fact -finding mission by the Indonesian Legal
Aid Foundation (LBH) found no evidence that the demonstrators had c arried any
weapons or that they had behaved in an aggressive or threatening manner. The
mission concluded that the demonstration was peaceful and that the security forces
had opened fire without warning or provocation.
The day before the killings the gover nment team, accompanied by police and military
personnel, had gone to the area to survey the site. Local people protested to the
team that no agreement had been reached between the local residents and the
authorities. Before leaving the site, a member of t he security forces reportedly
threatened the villagers by saying: “When we begin work tomorrow, nobody must

leave their homes…or they will be shot!” The government official responsible for the
project, the Bupati of Sampang, had reportedly issued similar threats in previous
weeks and had accused protestors of being PKI members. At a meeting with villagers
on 11 August 1993, he said: “I will arrest anyone who prevents the construction of this
dam. I’m in charge of security. I have the armed forces. All I h ave to do is give the
order”. [19] Following protests from local religious and community leaders, in October the armed
forces commander, General Feisal Tanjung, announced that an internal inquiry into
the incident had been ordered and that those found guilty would be punished. Shortly
there after two police and two military officers were transferred from their posts.
However, by mid -1994, no member of the security forces had been charged with
human rights -related offences or punished in connection with the killings.
Government and military au thorities insisted that there was no need for an
independent investigation. Despite demands from religious and community leaders
and human rights organizations, the government refused to take action against the
civilian officials with overall responsibilit y, both of whom were former military
officers.
The Haur Koneng killings
Four members of a small and isolated religious community in West Java, including a
12 -year -old boy, were shot and killed on 29 July 1993 when government forces
stormed their meeting place in Sinargalih, a village in the district of Majalengka. Two
members of the group (known as Haur Koneng , Yellow Bamboo), Jaenuddin and
Ahmad, were killed outright; the group’s leader, Abdul Manan, and another man,
Wahyudin, died in hospital in the following days. Abdul Manan had been shot five
times in the stomach at close range. At least 10 others, including four children, were
injured in the raid, six of them seriously. Nineteen people, including the injured,
were arrested; their trials began in October 1993.
According to reports, eight police and three Mobile Brigade memb ers first went to the
group’s headquarters on 28 June to arrest three members of the sect who had been
accused of punching the village head in a dispute over land. A struggle ensued, during
which one man was shot and the local chief of police was stabbed a nd killed. The
next morning, a joint force of more than 100 police, army troops of Battalion 321 and
Mobile Brigades, arrived in the village. The police claimed that Abdul Manan and the
others were shot and killed as he and 18 followers tried to resist arr est. However,
eye -witnesses said the troops attacked without provocation, launching grenades and

tear -gas into the small compound, and then shooting at the occupants as they fled the
burning buildings. Witnesses also said that the security forces had delay ed taking the
wounded to hospital, leaving them lying in the yard of a local rice mill for nearly
three hours. According to medical professionals, police authorities had obstructed
their efforts to treat Abdul Manan and eight others. Military and police au thorities
also prevented victims from meeting relatives or human rights lawyers, and
obstructed efforts by independent organizations to conduct investigations.
Government officials tried to justify the attack by claiming that the Haur Koneng
group posed a threat to security and stability, and that its members had refused to
take part in local or national elections, to carry official identity cards or to send their
children to government schools.
However, domestic human rights organizations which conducted i ndependent
investigations into the assault concluded that the security forces had used excessive
force and had deliberately killed unarmed civilians. Religious and community leaders,
and local members of the legislative assembly, criticized the tactics use d against a
small, unarmed religious community. Government and military officials defended the
use of “firm measures” as necessary for the maintenance of law and order.
In response to public pressure, the police initiated an investigation, but the
governme nt refused to conduct an independent public inquiry. No member of the
security forces had been charged in connection with the killings by mid -1994 and
there was no indication that any would be.
In marked contrast, by the end of 1993 at least eight Haur Kon eng members had been
tried on various charges, and sentenced to jail terms of between four months and one
year. They included three young women accused of failing to obey police orders to
surrender during the assault. In his summing up, the judge said that , rather than
surrendering, the three women had “…gathered together and chanted prayers until
the clash between the police officers and the sect’s followers occurred”. [20] The killing of Marsinah
Marsinah, a factory worker aged 25, was “disappeared”, tortured, raped and killed in
East Java in early May 1993 because of her role as a labour activist. The
circumstances of her “disappearance” and death, and of the official investigation that
followed, strongly suggest that her killing was planned and carried out with the
knowledge and acquiescence of military authorities.

Marsinah was found dead in a shack at the edge of a field about 200 kilometres from
her home in Porong, East Java, on 8 May. Her body was bloodied and covered in
bruises, and her neck bore the marks of strangulation. An autopsy revealed that her
attackers had thrust a blunt instrument into her vagina causing severe bleeding.
In the days before her death, Mar sinah had been actively involved in a strike at the
watch factory. Military authorities, including the Commanders of the District Military
Command (KODIM) and the Sub -District Military Command (KORAMIL), had intervened
directly in the dispute and interroga ted the workers about their role in the strike. On
5 May, 13 workers were summoned by the military and given the choice of resigning or
facing charges for holding “illegal meetings” or “inciting” others to strike. During the
interrogations, some workers we re beaten and one was threatened with death. That
evening Marsinah went to the local military headquarters to look for her colleagues.
She then “disappeared” until her body was found three days later. Pressure from
labour activists and human rights groups forced the police to open an investigation,
but it was swiftly taken over by military intelligence authorities. At the outset the
authorities strenuously denied that Marsinah’s death was related to the labour dispute,
and attempted to play down all evidenc e of military involvement. However, in
November 1993, nine civilians, all of them company staff or executives, and one
military officer, the KORAMIL Commander, were charged in connection with the
murder and brought to trial. Extreme irregularities in the a rrest, investigation and
trial procedures, which violated both international law and Indonesia’s Code of
Criminal Procedure, suggested that the trials were intended to obscure military
responsibility for the killing.
Several of the accused, including one w oman, were kidnapped by military intelligence
officers in early October, held incommunicado for up to three weeks, and forced to
confess to the murder, some of them under torture. During the trials, all nine civilian
defendants retracted their interrogatio n statements, saying that they had been
extracted under duress or torture. In March 1944 the National Human Rights
Commission confirmed that some of the defendants had been tortured and that the
basic rights of all had been violated by the military authori ties. Nevertheless, the
trials proceeded, and by May 1994, four of the defendants had been convicted, three
of them receiving sentences of 12 years’ imprisonment. The sole military officer
arrested, the KORAMIL Commander, was charged only with a disciplina ry offence for
failing to report a crime.
Following months of independent investigation with other non -governmental
organizations, the LBH concluded in March 1994 that there was a strong possibility

that Marsinah had been killed in the KODIM headquarters, and that ultimate
responsibility for the murder rested with higher ranking military authorities. Even the
National Human Rights Commission suggested that “other parties” may have been
involved in Marsinah’s murder. However, neither the LBH nor the Human Ri ghts
Commission had the authority to bring criminal charges against the suspected
perpetrators, who remained beyond the reach of the law.
Criminal suspects
Thousands of real or alleged criminals have been deliberately killed by the security
forces, or by death squads operating on government orders. These assassinations
reached a peak in the mid -1980s, but have continued on a reduced scale in recent
years. In response to criticism, the authorities have defended their actions as
necessary to fight crime. In early 1994, the Commander of Kopassus asked: “Which is
more important? Protecting the human rights of criminals or those of the good guys?”.
Between 1983 and 1986, government death squads summarily executed an estimated
5,000 alleged criminals in various cities in Indonesia. These “mysterious killings” were
carried out by squads of men in plain clothes driving unmarked vehicles. The
authorities denied any responsibility for the killings, blaming the deaths on gang
warfare. However, in 1989 President Suhart o revealed in his memoirs that the
“mysterious killings” had been carried out by members of the security forces and
represented a deliberate government policy to deal with “criminal elements” through
a kind of public “shock therapy”:
“Those who tried to re sist, like it or not, had to be shot….Some of the corpses were
left [in public places]…for the purpose of shock therapy….This was done so that the
general public would understand that there was still someone capable of taking
action to tackle the pro blem of criminality.” [21] The “mysterious killings” campaign drew to a close in 1986, but the idea behind it
remained. When confronted by evidence of rising criminality, p olice and military
authorities still resort to summary measures. In Jakarta a “shoot -on -sight” policy
instituted by the police chief in 1989 left at least 200 dead over four years. Many of
the victims died in suspicious circumstances in police custody. In most cases, police
authorities claimed the victim was shot while trying to escape. However, the
circumstances of the killings cast serious doubt on such claims.

On 24 May 1993 Hartono, a suspected thief, was shot dead while allegedly trying to
flee police custody. He was wearing handcuffs when he was shot. According to official
sources, the police had taken Hartono to West Jakarta to identify the hide -out of a
member of his criminal gang. A police spokesperson said that as they walked towards
the hideout, H artono suddenly “…tried to run away and free his hands from the hand –
cuffs. The officers said he broke the hand -cuffs”. [22] The officers involved claimed
that because Ha rtono had ignored three police warnings they were “forced to shoot
him”. No further investigation was known to have been undertaken by mid -1994 and
no police officers had been brought to justice.
The summary execution of suspected criminals is also commonp lace outside Jakarta.
Syamsul Bahri died on 16 June 1993 after being beaten and shot several times in the
custody of police from Pangkalanbrandan, North Sumatra. According to the police,
Syamsul Bahri was shot twice in the legs because he tried to resist a rrest and
threatened the five armed police officers with a machete. The police claimed that he
bled to death on the way to hospital. However, relatives said that there were several
bullet wounds in Syamsul Bahri’s chest, and signs that he had been beaten b efore he
died. Eye -witnesses denied that he had confronted police with a machete and said
that, after being shot in the legs, he had been taken to a cemetery. Local residents
testified that shortly thereafter eight gunshots were heard in the cemetery. Poli ce
investigations confirmed that Syamsul Bahri had been badly beaten and that there
were several bullet wounds in his body. Relatives and neighbours complained to the
Pangkalanbrandan police chief, who promised that “…any police officer found guilty
woul d be dealt with in accordance with the law”. [23] The Chief of Police for North
Sumatra said in July that the police officers were being questioned, but there was no
indica tion that any of them had been charged or tried by mid -1994.
The rate of summary killings has continued to increase in recent years. According to
the LBH, 134 suspected criminals were shot and killed by police in Greater Jakarta
between 1992 and early 1994 . In April 1994 the authorities announced that 16,700
soldiers and police had been mobilized to conduct a new anti -crime drive, called
“Operation Cleansing”, in order to clear the city of criminals before the November
APEC summit. Before the end of the Apr il, some 700 suspects had been detained and
three had been shot dead, one of them while in handcuffs. The campaign has been
enthusiastically endorsed by high -ranking police and military authorities. In April 1994,
Jakarta’s Police Chief, Major General Hind arto said:

“Jakarta must be cleared of all criminals… Educating them is no longer an effective
means of bringing down the rate of…violent crime here…We have no choice but to
impose harsh laws.” [24] 5. Torture, ill -treatment and death in custody
Torture and ill -treatment are prohibited under the Indonesian Criminal Code, the
Code of Criminal Procedure and by various ministerial regulations. According to the
authoritie s, they are also proscribed by armed forces service oaths. However, these
laws and regulations have not prevented torture and ill -treatment, or provided
effective avenues for redress. Nor have they been effective in ensuring that the
perpetrators are broug ht promptly to justice.
Torture and ill -treatment is commonplace in Indonesia and East Timor and regularly
results in death or serious injury. Whether the victims are political or criminal
suspects, there appears to be a standard set of methods of torture and ill -treatment.
While this does not prove that torture is overt government policy, it does indicate
that the practice of torture has become institutionalized within the security forces.
A military manual issued to troops in East Timor in the early 1980s substantiates this
view , at least in relation to counter -insurgency operations. One passage from the
manual reads:
“It is hoped that interrogation with the use of force will not be implemented except
in those situations where the person examined tells the truth with difficulty.
However, if the use of force is required…the local population…should not…witness
it, in order to avoid arousing the antipathy of the people….Avoid taking photographs
showing torture (of someone being given electric shocks, stripped naked and so
on) ….” [25] People arrested during counter -insurgency operations, whether in East Timor or in
Indonesia, continue to be especially vulnerable to torture. But they are not a lone.
Members of poor communities resisting eviction, striking workers, student
demonstrators and journalists are often ill -treated and sometimes tortured in custody,
particularly if they have been detained by military personnel. Criminal suspects and
pris oners, particularly the poor and socially disadvantaged, are frequently ill -treated
and tortured and some have died or suffered serious injury as a result.
Recent evidence provided by the testimony of torture victims indicates that torture
techniques have become standardized. Most political detainees experience some or

all of the following methods: beating on the head, shins and torso with fists, lengths
of wood, iron bars, bottles, rocks or electric cables; burning with lighted cigarettes;
electrocution; s lashing with razor blades and knives; death threats, mock executions
and deliberate wounding with firearms; immersion for long periods in fetid water;
suspension upside -down by the ankles; isolation, sleep and food deprivation;
mutilation of the genitals, sexual molestation and rape.
During counter -insurgency operations torture is used to obtain political and military
intelligence, to extract confessions for use in political trials and to intimidate local
communities. Some instances of torture and ill -treat ment may be the result of
indiscipline on the part of ordinary soldiers, but torture appears to be used primarily
to obtain information and instil fear.
Relatives and friends of suspected rebels have been tortured and ill -treated to extract
information fro m them, to force them to cooperate in locating suspects or to put
pressure on a suspect to surrender. Security forces have also ill -treated and tortured
civilians living in areas thought to be sympathetic to the rebels. These actions have
taken the form of threats, beatings, night -time house raids, house -burnings, forced
patrols and occasionally rape.
East Timor
Since the invasion of 1975, real and suspected supporters of independence for East
Timor have been routinely ill -treated and tortured by Indonesi an military personnel.
Torture has been facilitated by the practice of unacknowledged, arbitrary detention,
by the existence of numerous secret detention centres and by the virtual autonomy
granted to the military in East Timor to crush all opposition. Spe aking to a journalist
in April 1993, the head of the Catholic Church in East Timor, Bishop Belo, said that
political prisoners there are tortured “just like two plus two equals four”.
In his January 1992 report the UN Special Rapporteur on torture conclude d that
torture was common in East Timor, and offered 11 concrete recommendations to
prevent it. In 1992 and again in 1993 the UN Commission on Human Rights urged the
government to implement these recommendations. The government promised to do so
but, by mi d-1994, it had begun to implement only one of them, with the formation of
a National Human Rights Commission.
An East Timorese youth arrested in September 1992, eight months after the UN appeal,
gave the following account of his treatment in custody:

“I wa s accused of being the leader of the clandestine group…Since I denied this, they
began again with their dreadful torture: electric shocks, beatings with a club and,
while forced to kneel on sharp rocks, I was burned with cigarettes and electric irons.
To day my whole body bears the scars resulting from this torture.
“During the interrogations one of my colleagues…was also brought in and subjected
to torture. When I first saw him, I was totally unable to recognize him because of the
physical state he was in.”
Torture has sometimes resulted in hospitalization and death. Two youths, among 20
students arrested during a military operation in Baucau district in December 1992,
reportedly died as a result of torture. Adelino Gomes Fonsesca was one of them. After
being interrogated he was returned to a room where another student was being held.
He had been badly beaten, was bleeding and his eyes were so swollen he could barely
open them. He was suffering from severe pains in his chest and was breathing with
difficulty. He died in the early hours of 25 December.
Torture and ill -treatment in East Timor is not confined to those suspected of political
opposition. The relatives of real or suspected political opponents, including young
girls and elderly men and women, have als o been subjected to torture and ill –
treatment, including rape, in an effort to obtain information on the whereabouts or
activities of their relatives, or to force those being sought to give themselves up.
One woman and her family suffered several days of t orture in Baucau by soldiers
searching for her son whom they suspected of membership of a pro -independence
group. The woman was arrested on 8 September 1992 and interrogated. When she
denied knowing where her son was, she was stripped naked, beaten and kic ked and
given electric shocks. Three days after her arrest, one of her nephews and her sister –
in -law were called in for questioning and were also tortured. The 19 -year -old nephew
was beaten, kicked and given electric shocks; he was stripped naked, lighted
cigarettes were applied to his genitals and his pubic hair was set alight. The sister -in-
law was beaten, kicked, stripped naked and tortured with electric shocks, and
repeatedly sexually abused by soldiers during her five days in detention.
The Indonesian authorities have consistently denied allegations of ill -treatment and
torture in East Timor, and have instead questioned the political motives of those who
have reported them. The authorities have sometimes promised to investigate reports
of torture, but h ave seldom actually done so.

Aceh
Torture has been used routinely in Aceh since mid -1989, and in a number of cases it
has resulted in death. Incidents of torture and ill -treatment have been reported at
virtually every level of the military command struct ure and in dozens of security force
installations. Suspected rebels arrested in Aceh have also been tortured in military
and police installations in the neighbouring province of North Sumatra.
Adnan Beuransyah, a journalist with the newspaper Serambi Indon esia and a lecturer
at the National Islamic Institute, was arrested in August 1990 and held incommunicado
for nearly eight months before being brought to trial. He was convicted of subversion
and sentenced to eight years’ imprisonment in May 1991, despite evidence that his
confession of links to Aceh Merdeka had been extracted under torture. His sentence
was increased to nine years in July 1991 following an appeal to the Aceh High Court.
In his defence plea he described his treatment while detained by soldi ers of the
Resort Military Command (KOREM/012) post at Lampineung, Banda Aceh:
“I was stripped to my underwear and my hands were handcuffed behind me. Then I
was kicked and punched about the chest and legs until I fell on the floor. I was forced
into consc iousness again only to be kicked and punched all over my body. I collapsed
again and had difficulty breathing. This went on for about an hour. Then I was taken
to another room….I was hit with a block of wood and beaten and kicked.
“My shins were a partic ular target, and I still bear the scars on my back. My hair and
nose were burned with cigarette butts. I was given electric shocks on my feet,
genitals and ears until I fainted. Then I was ordered to sit with my legs outstretched
and a length of wood was h eld down over my knees. Another length was placed under
my buttocks which was then pumped up and down like someone jacking up a car. My
knees felt as though they would break.
“In this position I was ordered to confess to all the accusations against me. I t hought
then, it’s better to admit to anything they want. The pumping ceased…I was still
blindfolded and the wire for electric shocks was still wound around my big toes. If I
said anything they didn’t like, they’d turn on the current….It continued like this
until I signed the interrogation deposition.”
Responding to an enquiry from the UN Special Rapporteur on torture, dated 21 August
1992, the government acknowledged that Adnan Beuransyah had been arrested and
tried, but said there was “no indication wh atsoever” that he had been tortured. [26]

The families of suspected rebels in Aceh have also been tortured and ill -treated.
Nasrun Majid was arrested in June 1990 when some 40 soldiers came to his family’s
house in Alue Nirih, Peureulak. They were searching for his elder brother, Razali
Abdul Hamid, a suspected Aceh Merdeka activist. Nasrun Majid was held for 11 days at
the KODIM in Lhokseumawe. According to relatives, he wa s beaten on the shins and
head with a wooden club while being questioned. He was released on condition that
he help to turn his brother over to the authorities. Razali’s wife was also pressured to
reveal information about his whereabouts. Towards the end o f 1990, soldiers went to
her house in Alue Nirih to find out where he was. When she said that she did not know,
a soldier reportedly grabbed her new -born baby and, holding it upside -down, said: “If
we can’t get your husband we’ll take the baby instead!”. E ventually the soldiers
departed, leaving the baby behind, but for about six months afterwards soldiers
visited the house at least once a week. In March 1991, 17 members of the family
decided to seek asylum in Malaysia, where they were detained as illegal i mmigrants.
Irian Jaya
In July 1990, a suspected OPM leader named Melkianus Salosa was forcibly returned to
Indonesia from Papua New Guinea. On arrival he was immediately arrested and placed
in incommunicado military custody. He was convicted of subversion and sentenced to
life imprisonment in March 1991. A few months after his arrest, reports emerged that
he had been tortured. According to one report, Salosa’s fingernails and toenails had
been extracted, several of his teeth had been knocked out, and he had sustained
serious bru ising to the face. A political prisoner held in the same prison, but later
released, claimed to have seen Salosa being taken from his cell bleeding heavily from
the hands. About one year later, Melkianus Salosa was found dead outside the high
security pris on where he had been detained. Military authorities claimed he had
escaped and died of exposure, but available evidence suggested that he had been
deliberately killed in military custody.
Peaceful protesters
Ill -treatment is a hallmark of the government’ s response to peaceful political protest
or perceived threats to “public order”, inflicted as punishment for exercising the
freedoms of speech and association which are, in principle, guaranteed by the
Constitution. The victims have included demonstrators, workers on strike, human
rights activists and university students, as well as people threatened with eviction
from their homes. Members of poor communities have also been ill -treated by
security personnel carrying out so -called “cleanliness” and “order” c ampaigns.

Journalists and photographers reporting demonstrations or the activities of the
security forces have also been ill -treated.
The ill -treatment of such groups often entails beating, kicking and threats. When
protesters or suspected political oppone nts are detained for questioning, more severe
forms of torture, including electric shocks and rape, are not uncommon.
At least 17 students, including one woman, were tortured or ill -treated while being
interrogated by military intelligence authorities in S urabaya, East Java, on 25 and 26
January 1993. The students had joined a peaceful protest in support of farmers from
Belangguan, who had been forced off their land to make way for military training
facilities. The students were forced to strip, hit with me tal rods and punched in the
face and the stomach. At least 11 of them were tortured with electric shocks.
Three young factory workers, a man named Imam Basuki and two women known as
“Das” and “Mep”, were reportedly tortured or ill -treated while held incomm unicado
for three days at the Resort Military Command (KOREM) in Surabaya, East Java, in
January 1993. Imam Basuki was beaten until his face was badly swollen and “Das” was
raped. The three workers, who had been active in a protracted labour dispute at the
PT Victory Long Age factory, were abducted by soldiers in December 1992 and taken
to the headquarters of KOREM 084/Bhaskara Jaya. The two women said they were
taken to a separate room, but could hear Imam Basuki crying out as he was beaten.
The following morning two soldiers entered the women’s room and raped “Das”. She
was raped again twice by another soldier who reportedly boasted: “Go ahead and
report us to [the commander]. He’s not going to do a thing. This is our right!”. The
three were released only after they had signed statements that they would not
complain about their treatment, and promising to take no part in further industrial
action.
Criminal suspects and prisoners
Criminal suspects are tortured and ill -treated by police and prison officials throughout
Indonesia and East Timor. The methods commonly reported include: beatings with
batons, metal bars, lengths of electric cable and fists. Sexual molestation and rape
have also been reported. Police and prison officers sometimes inflict punishment s
designed to humiliate or cause emotional distress, such as forcing prisoners to
consume excrement or urine; shaving and painting their heads; and making them
perform military -style exercises on command. In one case, reported in May 1993, a
man and woman suspected of having illicit sexual relations were taken to the local

police station, beaten and forced to re -enact the “crime”, twice, on the floor of the
interrogation room. [27] Each year a large number of prisoners are reported to have died in custody as a result
of ill -treatment or torture in police or prison custody. In the past five years, Amnesty
International has recorded more than 100 suspicious deaths in custody of criminal
suspects. However, the true figure may be much higher since the authorities usually
cover up these deaths and opportunities for independent investigation are extremely
limited.
In January 1993 police in Indramayu, West Java, tortured a constructi on worker to
death, hospitalized his wife and forced their nine -year -old son to watch, and to join
in, his parents’ torture, all in connection with a stolen wallet. Nine -year -old Junyonto
was detained on suspicion of stealing the wallet on 16 January 1993. In the police
station he was beaten on both feet and burned with cigarettes. The child then told
the police he had stolen the wallet and given it to his parents.
The following day his mother, Dasmen, and his father, Sudarmono, were detained.
Dasmen was be aten and kicked repeatedly by police but still denied any knowledge of
the wallet. Her interrogators then tied her legs together, suspended her upside down
from the ceiling, and tugged and pulled at her hair while continuing their questioning.
Then the pol ice brought in Junyonto and forced him to beat his mother. She lost
consciousness, still denying any knowledge of the wallet, and was rushed to hospital
where she remained in a coma for three days. Sudarmono was tortured the next day.
Junyonto, who was mad e to watch, said that his father was repeatedly kicked and
punched until he collapsed. He was rushed to hospital but was dead on arrival.
A local outcry forced the police to promise that those responsible would be brought to
justice. Five police personnel were officially reported to have been detained and
transferred to the Military Police for questioning. Nothing more was heard after these
announcements. By mid -1994 it was not known whether any of the suspects had been
charged.
Torture and ill -treatment is often employed to teach prisoners a lesson or to exact
personal revenge. In November 1992 Antony Ginting, a bus conductor from Deli Tua,
North Sumatra, was abducted, beaten, burned with cigarettes, and shot repeatedly in
the legs by police officers who su spected him of stealing from their barracks.
According to his own account, the police officers detained him without a warrant,
tied his hands and forced him into a pick -up truck.

As they drove, the officers interrogated Antony Ginting, stopping several tim es to
beat him, threaten him with their pistols, rub chillies in his eyes and burn him with
cigarettes when he refused to confess. During one stop, three officers forced him to
kneel and then urinated in his face. When they reached a cocoa plantation outsi de
the town, Antony Ginting was ordered out of the truck and tied to a tree. During the
interrogation that followed, one police officer used a length of wood to beat him
violently across the knees and other parts of his body. Another shot him 12 times in
the legs. Others smashed his fingers with a hammer and stabbed his head with a
screwdriver until blood flowed. Antony Ginting fell unconscious and awoke in hospital.
After two months in hospital recovering from his injuries, Antony Ginting was again
detaine d by the police and charged with theft. Fearing further torture, he confessed
and was later sentenced to five months in jail. After his release in August 1993, he
filed formal complaints about his treatment. In November the Deli Tua police chief
admitted t o journalists that the police had ill -treated Antony Ginting, and said an
internal inquiry had been conducted. He stated: “…if members of my unit are guilty,
then my superiors will deal with them”. However, by mid -1994, none of the seven
police involved in the incident had been charged or punished.
Even when the suspected perpetrators of torture are charged and tried, they are
often acquitted or receive very light sentences. In December 1992 Djatmiko, an
inmate at Sragen Prison in Central Java, was beaten to death by prison guards. The
authorities offered several conflicting accounts of the incident. The prison director
claimed Djatmiko had died after falling and hitting his head. One prison official told
Djatmiko’s family that he had died of a stomach ill ness, and another said he had been
hit by a car while running an errand for prison officials. The final explanation offered
by prison and Ministry of Justice officials was that Djatmiko had died of injuries
sustained in a fight with prison guards. However, police investigations indicated that
as many as 12 prison officers may have been involved in the assault, while an autopsy
revealed that Djatmiko had been repeatedly beaten about the head and that his neck
had been broken.
Four prison guards were brought to trial in Sragen District Court in March 1993. During
the trial the prosecution presented evidence that the accused had taken turns kicking,
punching and beating Djatmiko, and that one of them had struck him repeatedly over
the head with a folding metal chair until he collapsed and died. The defendants
admitted these allegations but claimed that they had been acting in self -defence.
They were charged with assault resulting in death, which carries a maximum penalty
of 12 years. In November 1993, all four d efendants were acquitted. On hearing the

verdict, Djatmiko’s father, a farm labourer, cried out: “It isn’t fair! They have killed
a man, how can they walk free?”.
6. Political imprisonment and unfair trial
The New Order Government has made a habit of jai ling its political opponents. An
estimated 3,000 prisoners have been held on political charges since 1966, most of
them convicted after unfair trials. Hundreds of thousands more have been detained
without charge or trial for up to 14 years, and some have “ disappeared” in custody.
Patterns of imprisonment
Some 350 political prisoners are currently held in jails throughout Indonesia and East
Timor. Many of them neither used nor advocated violence and are prisoners of
conscience. They include advocates of in dependence for East Timor, Aceh and Irian
Jaya, as well as Islamic activists, former PKI members, university students, farmers,
workers, and human rights activists. They are in prison for crimes such as possessing
banned novels, criticizing the electoral s ystem, peacefully resisting eviction,
disseminating information about human rights violations, holding peaceful flag -raising
ceremonies, advocating closer ties among Muslims, criticizing Pancasila , and
organizing peaceful demonstrations.
Political trials i n Indonesia and East Timor routinely fail to meet international
standards of fairness. They are effectively show trials, characterized by the following
general features:
-Once charges have been filed, guilt is assumed and conviction is a foregone
conclusio n.
-Defendants are routinely denied access to legal counsel of their choice, and defence
lawyers are often refused access to court documents before the trial starts.
-Political cases are often handled by inexperienced, court -appointed lawyers who
provide an inadequate defence.
-Defendants are often convicted on the basis of uncorroborated confessions or
testimony extracted under duress.
-Trials are conducted in Indones ian, which is not always understood by defendants,
and competent translators are not always provided.

-Defendants are frequently denied the right to cross -examine prosecution witnesses,
while witnesses for the defence are often barred.
-Evidence of ill -tre atment, torture and other irregularities in the pre -trial process are
routinely ignored by the courts.
-Defence lawyers, prosecutors and judges are subjected to pressure from military and
government authorities to ensure a guilty verdict.
The charges are o ften so vague, the evidence of guilt so patently thin, and the
sentencing so draconian that political trials are clearly designed as a deterrent. They
are also intended to foster the illusion that Indonesia is governed by the rule of law.
Far from demonstr ating a commitment to the rule of law, political trials demonstrate
the arbitrariness of the judicial system, and how readily it can be influenced by those
in power, particularly the military. This was neatly summarized by a military
commander in Aceh who told lawyers from the Indonesian Legal Aid Institute in 1991:
“You can eat your [Code of Criminal Procedure]. It doesn’t apply here”.
The treatment of political detainees generally improves after they have been
sentenced and transferred to the prison syste m. Yet serious problems remain,
particularly in more isolated areas and in high security prisons where access to
lawyers, doctors and relatives may be heavily restricted. There are periodic reports of
the injury or death in custody of political prisoners i n such prisons. Correspondence to
and from political prisoners is often censored or intercepted. Corruption is rife in the
Indonesian prison system, and prisoners without access to an independent source of
income or basic daily necessities face serious dif ficulties.
Some political prisoners benefit from the rules on remission of sentences. Remissions
of up to four months are granted annually on national independence day to all
prisoners considered to have behaved well. Recently revised regulations allow for the
conditional release of most prisoners after they have served two -thirds of their
sentence, but other rule changes make early release unlikely for some. For example,
a 1987 presidential decree means prisoners serving life sentences can only gain
remiss ion through a presidential pardon, and rules out remission for any prisoner
whose death sentence has already been commuted to life imprisonment.
Political prisoners are seldom released unconditionally. Some of the conditions
imposed contravene internationa l human rights standards upholding the rights to
freedom of thought, expression and opinion. Prisoners are required to demonstrate

that they have reformed politically. Most must undergo political “re -education” in
prison, and are required to swear allegian ce to the state and Pancasila before release.
Former political prisoners also face serious restrictions after their release. Many,
including those who were never tried, must report to military or police authorities on
a regular basis for years. Restriction s on their rights to vote, to travel and to work are
also common. Sometimes these are extended to apply to their relatives as well.
Many thousands or prisoners have been detained arbitrarily, some for 14 years,
without charge or trial. Arbitrary and incomm unicado detention is routinely practised
to intimidate suspected opponents and to gather political intelligence during counter –
insurgency operations. It is also used to prevent or break up strikes, peaceful
gatherings, demonstrations and exhibitions. This practice has been widely criticized,
forcing a recent shift in official tactics. Arbitrary detention now tends to be short –
term; suspects are interrogated, often threatened or ill -treated, but released within
the 24 -hour legal limit. This allows the author ities to disrupt peaceful protests, and to
intimidate suspected leaders, and still claim to be acting “in accordance with the
law”. Mass arbitrary detentions have also been justified in the interests of “national
security”.
Many of those held in arbitrary, unacknowledged military custody “disappear”,
making them vulnerable to torture and extrajudicial execution. This problem has been
most acute in Aceh and East Timor, but conditions conducive to “disappearance” exist
wherever the authorities are able to inv oke the interests of “national security”. In
such situations the legal provisions designed to protect detainees’ rights are either
ignored or superseded by exceptional laws. The danger is greatest where detainees
are held by units of the counter -insurgency force Kopassus . In the words of one
Acehnese: “If you’re taken away by the military you have a 50 -50 chance of coming
back. If you’re taken by Kopassus you can forget it.”
East Timor
Many thousands of East Timorese have been detained without charge or t rial since the
invasion of 1975, several hundreds of whom subsequently “disappeared”. Hundreds of
others have been convicted of opposing Indonesian rule in show trials that began in
the mid -1980s. As the UN does not recognize Indonesia’s sovereignty over E ast Timor,
the competence of Indonesian courts to try East Timorese for opposition to Indonesian
rule is open to question.

As of mid -1994 some 20 East Timorese were serving sentences ranging from a few
years to life imprisonment for subversion, “expressing hostility” to the government or
other political crimes. Most were accused of organizing the procession to the Santa
Cruz cemetery in November 1991, or the peaceful protest against the massacre held
in Jakarta later that month. Many were held incommunicado and tortured while being
interrogated. The comments of prosecutors and judges during their trials indicated
that they were being punished principally because they had contributed to the
government’s international embarrassment.
Among those tried in 1992 w ere Francisco Miranda Branco, who was sentenced to 15
years’ imprisonment, and Gregorio da Cunha Saldanha, sentenced to life
imprisonment. They were convicted of subversion for organizing the procession to the
Santa Cruz cemetery. Gregorio da Cunha Saldanh a said that he and other detainees
had been “…obliged to give an explanation in accordance with the wishes of the
investigators, not according to the true facts”. Fernando Araujo and João Freitas da
Camara were also convicted of subversion. They were sen tenced to nine and 10 years’
imprisonment for organizing the Jakarta protest march. In his verdict the judge said
that Fernando Araujo was guilty of “undermining the Indonesia government and
disgracing the nation in the eyes of the international community” , because he had
sent information about human rights violations to the ICRC and to Amnesty
International.
The prime example of a political show trial in East Timor was that of Timorese
resistance leader, Xanana Gusmão, who was sentenced to life imprisonmen t for
rebellion and illegal possession of firearms on 21 May 1993. Conscious of the strong
international criticism of its human rights record in East Timor, the government took
unusual steps to make Xanana Gusmão’s trial appear open and fair. Selected fore ign
journalists, diplomats and some international human rights organizations were
allowed to observe the trial. In an effort to further appease international opinion, in
August 1993 the President reduced Xanana Gusmão’s sentence to 20 years’
imprisonment. However, long before the trial started it was clear that Xanana
Gusmão was unlikely to get a fair hearing.
Xanana Gusmão was captured on 20 November 1992, and held in secret military
custody for 17 days before ICRC representatives were permitted to see him . He was
denied access to a lawyer while under interrogation, and was not allowed to appoint
legal counsel of his choice, as required by law. Lawyers from the Indonesian Legal Aid
Institute were not permitted to visit him, despite having been given power o f attorney

by his relatives. A defence lawyer was finally appointed on 26 January 1993, six days
before the trial began.
The trial itself was marked by the violation of basic international and domestic
standards of fairness. Prosecution witnesses, many of them political detainees, were
subjected to undue pressure from military authorities. Fear of official reprisals meant
that few witnesses would testify for the defence. Neither Xanana Gusmão nor many of
the witnesses were fluent in Indonesian, the language of the proceedings; the
translation provided was incomplete and inaccurate. Most importantly, the judge
allowed Xanana Gusmão to read only two pages of his 29 -page defence plea, claiming
that it was “irrelevant”.
In addition to those tried, at least 400 E ast Timorese have been held without charge
or trial, for periods ranging from a few days to several months, since late 1991. Many
were denied access to their relatives, lawyers and the ICRC; some were ill -treated
and tortured. About 70 East Timorese were a rrested after the November 1991 Jakarta
protest; 46 were detained for two months without charge. As a condition of release,
all were made to sign affidavits renouncing their peaceful political beliefs and stating
their willingness to face legal sanctions s hould they commit “offences” in the future.
Shortly before a visit by UN envoy Amos Wako in February 1992, security forces briefly
detained scores of East Timorese youths and sent them on “guidance courses” for the
duration of the visit. The capture of Xan ana Gusmão sparked off a further wave of
arrests. More than 70 people, including several of his relatives, were taken into
custody. Most were held incommunicado and some were tortured. Further detentions
preceded a visit to the territory by a delegation of US House of Representatives
Foreign Affairs Committee staff in September 1993. The practice of short -term
arbitrary detention continues.
Aceh
At least 50 people have been sentenced to prison terms of between three years and
life since 1991 for their all eged links to Aceh Merdeka . All were convicted in unfair
trials under the Anti -Subversion Law, and at least 24 appeared to be prisoners of
conscience, having neither used nor advocated violence. Thousands of others were
arbitrarily detained between 1989 an d 1994, and many are feared to have
“disappeared”.
Trials of the alleged leadership of Aceh Merdeka , including university lecturers, civil
servants and school teachers, began in March 1991. The public prosecutor

acknowledged that members of this group “wer e not armed” but charged that they
were “…the brains which planned the terrorist actions” of Aceh Merdeka . There was
little or no evidence that any of this group had advocated violence or planned violent
acts; in fact, some appeared to have argued openly against violence.
These trials were partly intended to answer international criticism of government
human rights abuse in the territory, and to demonstrate that the government upholds
the rule of law. Yet, at virtually every stage of the process, defendan ts in the Aceh
Merdeka cases encountered treatment at odds with minimal guarantees in Indonesian
and international law. Most were held incommunicado, without charge, for up to
several months. Few, if any, were allowed visits from relatives until their tria l had
begun and many families were not officially notified of the reasons for the prisoners’
arrests or their whereabouts.
More serious irregularities were evident in the investigation stage. The confessions of
many defendants and the testimony of some pro secution witnesses were extracted
under duress, and sometimes under torture. In June 1991 Amnesty International
received a letter from a man who had been detained since late 1990 on suspicion of
involvement with Aceh Merdeka . The letter described his arres t by the military, his
treatment while in detention, and his trial:
“The 15 days [after my arrest] witnessed the severest tortures inflicted on me
during…interrogations by the military intelligence: beatings, cigarette burnings,
whippings, electric shocks, water poured through the nose, forced drinking of urine,
and curs es….The interrogations were to force me to confess to things that I did not
do, know of or see…so that they had the reasons to lock me up”.
This man was sentenced to a lengthy prison term for subversion in 1991. Following an
appeal to the High Court of Aceh, his sentence was increased. In his letter he asked
that his name not be mentioned “…otherwise things will go worse at my end”.
The use of torture to extract confessions from detainees in Aceh was facilitated by
denying them other basic rights. Non e of the defendants were permitted to have a
lawyer present during interrogation, or to consult one before their trials. Efforts by
the Indonesian Legal Aid Institute to act on behalf of some defendants were
obstructed by military and judicial authorities. Military authorities and the public
prosecutor also threatened to return some detainees to military custody if they
sought the assistance of a defence lawyer. The fear of further torture convinced most
to cooperate.

Pre -trial irregularities were compounde d at the trial stage. Judicial authorities
ignored the testimony of witnesses and defendants that their confessions were
extracted under torture. Fearing that the courts might not protect them from further
abuse, some defendants decided not to testify abou t the torture they had suffered. A
defendant convicted in 1991 explained why, in a letter to a friend:
“A friend of mine…died in the prison on 13 December 1990, because of the torture;
he vomited fresh blood when he was dying. Several others became compl etely
paralysed. Ten or 11 were taken out during the night and killed outside the jail;
their bodies have not been found….The threats being made against us at that time
made me give in; a thing I deeply regret now.”
Because defendants were not permitted lawyers of their choice, most were defended
by court -appointed lawyers with little or no experience in political trials. As well as
inexperience, lawyers faced almost insuperable obstacles in providing an effective
defence for their clients. Most were appo inted only a few days before the trial, and
were unable to meet their clients until the first court session. They were denied
access to crucial court documents, such as the interrogation depositions upon which
the prosecution case was based.
The military a uthorities put heavy political pressure on defence lawyers. Before each
trial, they were summoned for a briefing by military intelligence and warned not to
mount too strong a defence. Most complied because to do otherwise could be
construed as sympathy for Aceh Merdeka or because, out of fear, their clients had
asked them to cooperate. Consequently, few defence lawyers attempted to challenge
the charges against their clients and fewer still questioned procedural irregularities
during arrest, detention and i nvestigation. Prosecution witnesses were not rigorously
cross -examined and witnesses were seldom called for the defence.
In addition to those jailed after unfair trials, at least 1,000 people were held in
unacknowledged, incommunicado detention in Aceh and North Sumatra for periods
ranging from a few days to more than a year between 1989 and 1994. Scores and
possibly hundreds of Acehnese political detainees “disappeared” in custody, and many
are feared to have been killed.
Arbitrary detention and “disappear ance” in Aceh followed a definite pattern.
Suspects were detained without warrant by military authorities. Relatives were not
informed of the arrest or the place of detention. Those who made inquiries were
routinely told that the person concerned was no lo nger in custody or had been

transferred to another military camp or detention centre. The authorities did not
keep public registers of detainees and made little effort to help the family locate
them. Some relatives were interrogated or threatened. Requests for information
made by national and international human rights organizations on behalf of families
were generally ignored.
Some of those who “disappeared” reappeared later in custody. They included some
1,000 uncharged and untried political detainees who were conditionally released
between September 1990 and March 1994. The official explanation for their release
was that they had been found to have only a limited connection with Aceh Merdeka ,
and that they should be given an opportunity to reform politica lly. The releases were
accompanied by official ceremonies intended to demonstrate the military’s goodwill
and respect for the rule of law. At a release ceremony in June 1991 the Regional
Military Commander told political detainees: “Bear in mind that you a re found guilty.
But the level of your guilt is low, so we give you a chance to improve yourselves.” [28] Far from demonstrating a commitment to the rule of law, the releases highlighted the
arbitrary nature of the original detentions. All the detainees had been denied the
legal safeguards provided by Indonesia’s Code of Criminal Procedure, none had been
charg ed or tried but were presumed and treated as guilty, and some had been held
incommunicado for more than a year.
Irian Jaya
More than 140 people have been jailed for subversion since 1989 for advocating Irian
Jaya’s independence. At least 50 remained in j ail in mid -1994, over half of whom
were prisoners of conscience, serving sentences of up to 20 years’ imprisonment.
Many of these prisoners are held in East Java, more than 1,500 miles away, making it
difficult for their relatives to visit them.
Among thos e jailed in 1989 were Dr Thomas Wainggai and his wife, Teruko Wainggai,
a Japanese national. They were convicted of subversion in September 1989 and
sentenced to life and eight years’ imprisonment respectively. Dr Wainggai was the
leader of a group of 37 p eople who staged a peaceful flag -raising ceremony in
December 1988 to proclaim the independent state of “West Melanesia”. None of the
group had used or advocated violence, a fact acknowledged by the Regional Military
Commander for Irian Jaya one month befo re Dr Wainggai was sentenced:

“[It is] really nothing more than a diplomatic group….It is not an armed
movement….He had got together a few people to act as functionaries of a new state
but he hadn’t got around to making any laws.”
Teruko Wainggai and t wo other women, both sentenced to four years’ imprisonment,
were accused of sewing the flag used in the ceremony. Two women who led the
opening and closing prayers received prison terms of four and five years, while a man
who led the singing of “My Country Melanesia” was sentenced to six years. Fourteen
participants who assisted in raising the flag were jailed for between four and eight
years. More than 40 other suspected supporters of independence were arrested and
tried for subversion in 1989 and 1990, an d sentenced to up to 17 years’ imprisonment.
Most were accused of planning to commemorate the 1988 proclamation.
Available information about the trial of Dr Wainggai suggests that political trials in
Irian Jaya have the same deficiencies noted elsewhere in Indonesia and in East Timor.
Like most defendants in political trials, Dr Wainggai was presumed guilty. In August
1989, before the District Court had reached a verdict, the Regional Military
Commander made a public statement clearly implying Dr Wainggai’s guilt:
“He got frustrated and carried out these activities like proclaiming a new country.
That’s subversion and has to be firmly put down according to the process of law.”
Defence lawyers from the Legal Aid Institute were prevented from bringing a full
complement of witnesses and had little time to cross -examine prosecution witnesses
because of the schedule imposed by the court. In some of the trials, including that of
Teruko Wainggai, the court proceedings were conducted in a language which the
defendant did not understand well.
The defence lawyers themselves were threatened and intimidated. During the trial a
military intelligence officer confiscated the cassette tape recorder used by the
defence team to record the court’s proceedings. Defence lawyers ob jected on the
grounds that its use had not been forbidden by the court. However, the judge
defended the military action, arguing that “…if it is a matter of security, then the
security forces must be given complete authority”, and warned the defence team
against any further “funny business”. When they lodged an official protest, the judge
threatened them with contempt of court, and challenged the legality of their branch
of the Legal Aid Institute.
Muslim activists

Hundreds of Muslims have been jailed i n Indonesia over the past 15 years. Some were
found guilty of acts of violence but scores were jailed solely for their peaceful beliefs
and activities. Most were accused of criticizing the government, of undermining
Pancasila , or of attempting to establish an Islamic state. As of mid -1994, an estimated
200 Muslim prisoners remained in jail, including at least 40 prisoners of conscience.
Typical of many was Abdul Fatah Wiranagapati, a 69 -year -old Muslim, sentenced to
eight years’ imprisonment in June 1992 fo r “undermining the state ideology” and
attempting to establish an Islamic state. The court found that he had not used
violence but had spread his ideas by holding meetings and preaching about Islamic law.
In his verdict, the presiding judge said that Abdul Fatah Wiranagapati had “…used his
preaching in mosques to disseminate anti -government propaganda”.
The trials of Muslim activists have been uniformly unfair. Guilt appears to have been
predetermined and evidence of innocence presented to the court has a lmost always
been ignored. Only one of hundreds of defendants tried for subversion in the past 15
years is known to have been acquitted.
There is substantial evidence that the government, through its military intelligence
agencies, has encouraged some Isla mic groups to use violence. The purpose appears
to have been to provide a pretext for widespread crack -downs against Muslim activists
and to undermine lawful Muslim organizations, such as the PPP, the lawful Islamic
party. Hundreds of people have been jail ed since the late 1970s on the pretext that
they were involved with these militant organizations. The detainees have included
preachers, pamphleteers, Mosque officials and scholars.
One of the most significant series of Muslim trials began in 1985, a year after soldiers
had massacred scores of protesters in Tanjung Priok, Jakarta. Once again there was
evidence of military provocation, and again the violence was used to justify
widespr ead arrests and prosecutions. Around half of the 200 people arrested in
connection with the protest were subsequently brought to trial. Some were accused
of acts of violence, but scores were sentenced to years in jail because of their
peaceful beliefs. Sev eral prominent opposition figures, including three members of
the “Petition of Fifty” group, were also jailed after criticizing the government’s
handling of the affair and calling for an independent inquiry.
The next major series of trials began in 1986 an d continued until 1989. The
defendants were members of small Islamic communities, known as usroh and based in
Central Java, which aimed to spread Islamic teachings and values. At least 40 usroh

members were convicted of subversion, for allegedly seeking to establish an Islamic
state and undermine Pancasila . Little or no evidence was presented to substantiate
these allegations.
In early 1989 the spotlight shifted from the usroh groups after government troops
attacked an alleged militant Islamic sect in Lampu ng, known by the name of its leader,
Warsidi. In the aftermath of the assault, which may have left as many as 100 people
dead, the government began a widespread crack -down against Muslims believed to be
linked with the “Warsidi Gang”. Scores of Muslim acti vists were arrested in
subsequent months in Lampung, Nusa Tenggara Barat, West Java and Jakarta. Most
were tried for subversion in 1989 and 1990. All were found guilty and sentenced to
terms of up to life imprisonment.
PKI prisoners
A minute fraction of the more than 500,000 people arrested after the 1965 coup,
about 1,000 in all, were brought to trial and sentenced to lengthy prison terms or
condemned to death. At least 25 of those remained in prison in mid -1994, more than
a quarter of a century after th eir arrest. Most were believed to be prisoners of
conscience. In addition to those tried, hundreds of thousands were held without
charge or trial for periods ranging from a few weeks to 14 years. In addition to those
still in jail, a large number of former PKI prisoners remain under house arrest and face
serious restrictions on their civil and political rights and freedom of movement.
Because of their advanced age, a number of PKI prisoners have died in custody; others
suffer serious illnesses. Pudjo Praset io, aged 68, was diagnosed in 1993 as suffering
from Parkinson’s Disease. A former shipbuilder and trade unionist, Pudjo Prasetio
joined the PKI in the mid -1950s. He was arrested in 1967 in Central Java and held for
12 years before being tried and sentence d to life imprisonment for subversion.
Because it was his only hope for release under the new law on remissions, Pudjo
Prasetio requested presidential clemency but in March 1991 he learned that it had
been denied. In a letter to a friend he wrote: “By the way, my request for clemency
was refused by the president. It means that there’s no more way to be released. If
there’s no political changes I’ll be jailed forever.” In mid -1994 Pudjo Prasetio
remained in prison in Bali. Although he has received medical tr eatment, his health has
continued to deteriorate.
A number of elderly PKI prisoners held in Cipinang prison are suffering from serious
physical and mental disabilities. Ruslan Wijayasastra, aged 75, is almost totally

paralysed and requires the constant ass istance of fellow prisoners to walk and to carry
out normal functions like rising from his bed and eating. Arrested in July 1968 and
sentenced to death six years later, Ruslan was a member of the Central Committee of
the PKI and an official of the PKI -affi liated peasant union. In March 1994 fellow
political prisoners and human rights organizations appealed to the National Human
Rights Commission for the release of Ruslan and others on humanitarian grounds, but
the commission said that it was up to the Presi dent to grant clemency to those under
sentence of death.
The trials of those accused of PKI membership or participation in the coup were
uniformly unfair. The virulent anti -communism which followed the 1965 coup meant
that few witnesses dared testify on be half of suspected PKI members on trial for
subversion. Defence lawyers acting for PKI members were accused of communist
sympathies, threatened and harassed. Many of the witnesses were also prisoners, and
in some cases the “evidence” they gave had been extr acted under torture. There
were also serious doubts about the impartiality of the judges, particularly those who
headed the special military courts which sentenced high -ranking PKI members to long
prison terms or death. Many PKI prisoners were denied the r ight to appeal; those
allowed to appeal often waited 10 or 20 years to learn that their appeals had been
rejected.
Years after their release, more than one million of those imprisoned as PKI members
or supporters still face severe restrictions on their civ il and political rights. Although
most were never tried or found guilty of any offence, their identity cards are marked
“ET”, an acronym signifying “Former Political Prisoner”. This mark carries with it a
powerful political and social stigma, as well as re al legal limitations, that affect not
only former detainees but also their relatives, including many who were not even
born at the time of the 1965 coup.
Former prisoners or PKI members, and often members of their families, are prohibited
from working in a ny occupation which might give them the opportunity to influence
public opinion, such as journalist, teacher, village head, actor, puppeteer or religious
preacher. Severe restrictions on freedom of movement mean that they are effectively
under house or tow n arrest, and must seek special permission to travel or even to
move house.
Former PKI prisoners also suffer political restrictions. They are granted the right to
vote only with the explicit approval of government and military authorities, after
investigat ions to establish their political attitudes and behaviour. Before the June

1992 national elections, the government announced that 36,345 former PKI prisoners
would not be permitted to vote. Political party candidates are required to undergo
political scree ning before their nomination can be accepted; those who pass the test
but are later discovered to have had some link to the PKI are likely to be forced from
office.
Students
Dozens of students have been sentenced to prison terms ranging from a few months to
nine years for their non -violent political activities. Many others have been detained
without charge for short periods, apparently to disrupt their activities, however
lawful, and to obtain information about their organizations.
Several university stud ents and other young people have been sentenced to lengthy
prison terms for possessing banned literary works. Bambang Subono was arrested on 9
June 1988 while selling copies of the novel “ Rumah Kaca ” (“Glass House”) and other
works by the renowned Indonesi an author, Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Bambang Isti
Nugroho, a student at Gajah Mada University, Yogyakarta, was arrested in June 1988
on similar charges. The two were found guilty of subversion and sentenced to seven
and eight years’ imprisonment respectively. Another student, Bonar Tigor Naipospos,
was arrested in Jakarta in June 1989, convicted of subversion and sentenced to eight –
and -a-half years’ imprisonment for possessing and distributing literature said to
contain communist ideas, and for disseminating M arxist teachings in discussion groups
and through his own writings. He was conditionally released in May 1994.
Students have also been jailed for their peaceful political and human rights activities.
Nuku Soleiman was arrested on 25 November 1993 during a peaceful protest outside
Indonesia’s national parliament in Jakarta. He was accused of distributing stickers in
which the acronym for the country’s state -backed lottery (SDSB) was given a new
meaning. The stickers read Suharto Dalang Segala Bencana , Suhart o is the mastermind
of all disasters, and cited numerous instances of serious human rights violations
committed by Indonesian security forces since 1965.
Nuku Soleiman was sentenced to four years’ imprisonment by the District Court of
Central Jakarta on 24 February 1994, following a month -long show trial. He was
charged with “insulting the President”. In May 1994, following his appeal to the High
Court, his sentence was increased to five years.
In his first defence statement, Nuku Soleiman described the atm osphere of the trial:

“Just look around! From the first day of the session, it is as if the army and police
are in command here…In front of this building they have lined up trucks full of
armed troops. At the entrance to this hall, they block my friends, my relatives, and
the general public who want to attend this trial. In this court -room they have
assigned plainclothes officers to occupy a large number of the chairs for visitors. As
the trial began, a group of police officers equipped with rattan clubs and canes
marched in here, though there was not the slightest sign of unrest in this hall…I feel
this as terror, as intimidation. Does the Council of Judges not also feel the same?…
Is it not the case that such an atmosphere is bound to influence the v erdict of the
Court?”
Shortly after Nuku Soleiman’s sentencing, the District Attorney’s office in Jakarta
announced that 21 students were to be brought to trial on similar charges. They were
arrested in Jakarta on 14 December 1993, during a peaceful demons tration calling on
parliament to hold a special session to investigate the President’s responsibility for
past human rights abuses. In May 1994 they were sentenced to six months’
imprisonment for “insulting the President”.
Farmers and land activists
Memb ers of farming communities involved in land disputes with private or official
bodies, and activists working with them, have suffered a range of abuses, including
intimidation, death threats, attempted murder and imprisonment. Some are prisoners
of conscien ce.
Some 300 farmers from the villages of Cijayanti and Rancamaya in West Java, and
several human rights activists, were detained by military authorities after a peaceful
demonstration outside the office of a government minister in Jakarta on 24
September 1993. They were protesting against being evicted by real estate
development companies. The protest followed more than a year of intimidation and
one case of attempted murder by company officials against the farmers. Although
most were released without char ge after questioning, some were ill -treated and
threatened with death, and at least two were re -arrested. They were prisoners of
conscience.
Among those held for questioning was M.H. Sinaga, Director of the Ampera Legal Aid
Institute (LBH -Ampera). He alleg ed that he was ill -treated and threatened with a
pistol during his interrogation.

Ahmad Jauhari, a staff member of the same organization, received written death
threats and had his house wrecked less than two weeks after the demonstration. The
attackers’ i dentity was unknown, but the timing and context of the attack raised
suspicions of police involvement or complicity.
Two others were later imprisoned in connection with the case. On 11 October, a
farmer from Rancamaya, Cheppy Sudrajat, was sentenced to 10 months’
imprisonment for his role in organizing the September 1993 protest. In early 1994,
Dedi Ekadibrata, another human rights activist connected with LBH -Ampera, was tried
and sentenced to 18 months in prison. He was arrested on 9 November 1993 and
char ged with inciting a January 1993 attack on the base camp of the real estate
company in Cijayanti. However, human rights lawyers believed that he was arrested
because of his non -violent activities on behalf of the farming communities in the area.
Workers and trade unionists
The government has used various methods, including short -term detention and
imprisonment, to silence the advocates of workers’ rights, and to undermine
independent unions such as the Indonesian Workers’ Welfare Union (SBSI).
At least 19 SBSI members including the national chairman, Muchtar Pakpahan, a
member of its national executive council, Sunarty, and the chairman of its Central
Java executive council, Trisjanto, were detained on 10 February 1994, on the eve of a
national st rike. They were apparently arrested to prevent them from organizing the
strike, and to intimidate workers from supporting it. All 19 were released within a few
days, but Muchtar Pakpahan, Sunarty and Trisjanto were charged with incitement and
expressing ho stility towards the government.
More than 100 workers and activists were detained during a wave of labour unrest in
Medan which degenerated into an anti -Chinese riot in mid -April 1994. As of early May
1994, at least 50 remained in police custody. Most were charged with criminal
offences, such as destruction of property and assault but at least five officials of SBSI –
Medan were held for their role in organizing the demonstrations. They were
apparently detained solely for their non -violent labour activism. Th e military has
alleged that the SBSI was responsible for the anti -Chinese violence and had links with
the PKI, allegations which could be used as to justify bringing its leaders to trial for
subversion or other political crimes.

One of the five SBSI -Medan officials detained was the branch secretary, Riswan Lubis.
He was arrested on 15 April 1994. Colleagues who saw him in detention at Medan
police headquarters several days later said he had apparently been beaten. Another
was Amosi Telaumbanua, chairman of SBSI -Medan, arrested on 29 April. A long -time
labour activist, Amosi Telaumbanua had been arrested by the military on at least
three previous occasions and twice ill -treated or tortured while in custody. Indonesian
human rights lawyers feared that these an d other SBSI officials could be charged with
incitement, and possibly with subversion. If found guilty of incitement, they would
face a maximum term of seven years in prison; if convicted of subversion, a maximum
penalty of death.
7. The death penalty
Th e death penalty can be imposed for a wide range of crimes in Indonesia. Its use has
increased steadily over the past two decades. Between 1985 and 1994 there were at
least 30 executions, compared to four in the previous decade. Although most of those
sente nced to death had been convicted of murder, most of those executed were
political prisoners convicted of subversion. Of the 30 people known to have been
executed since 1985, 27 were political prisoners. Most were condemned to death in
show trials; some had been awaiting execution for almost a quarter of a century.
Those still on death row in mid -1994 included six elderly men sentenced in the late
1960s and early 1970s for involvement in the 1965 coup or for membership of the PKI,
and dozens of convicted cri minal prisoners.
Some government and judicial authorities appear sensitive to arguments against the
death penalty. In a surprising decision taken in 1988, the Indonesian Supreme Court
ruled that the death penalty was inconsistent with Pancasila . Neverthele ss, the
government has defended retaining the death penalty on the grounds that it serves as
a deterrent to serious crime. However, since most victims of execution have been
political prisoners, it would appear that the death penalty has been used principa lly
to assert the government’s political power and to deter potential political opponents.
The government has also been at pains to demonstrate that, in carrying out
executions, it has acted in accordance with the law and within its right as a sovereign
state. International protests are rejected as external interference in Indonesia’s
affairs. When it was rumoured that seven PKI prisoners were scheduled for execution
in March 1990, the Armed Forces Commander told journalists:

“The issue of executions is an internal matter of Indonesia, an affair concerning our
national interests, our sovereignty and our freedom. Therefore outsiders should not
interfere in our affairs. Write that in big letters.”
The government’s preoccupation with the formal legality of the death penalty, and its
attacks on foreign interference on the issue, have diverted attention from
fundamental questions about how the death penalty constitutes, or contributes to,
serious human rights violations.
Killing the innocent
In any judicial syst em that allows the death penalty there is always the risk that an
innocent person may be executed. In a judicial system characterized by corruption
and lack of independence, as is Indonesia’s, the possibility of wrongful execution is
increased.
Dozens of t he PKI political prisoners already executed and others still awaiting
execution were condemned after unfair trials in special military courts, in which
there was no right of appeal. Prisoners sentenced to death by the civilian courts do
have a right to app eal, although the appeals process is seriously flawed.
The final legal remedy available to prisoners under sentence of death in Indonesia is
presidential clemency. Since an execution may not be carried out until a request for
clemency has been rejected, th e denial of clemency removes the last formal barrier
to execution. Clemency is seldom granted, and executions often follow swiftly after it
has been denied. Prisoners therefore fear that to request clemency is simply to
hasten their execution and some ther efore refuse to request it.
A prisoner’s refusal to ask for clemency causes the authorities certain legal and
administrative problems. Judicial and executive authorities have sometimes
requested clemency for prisoners either without their knowledge or agai nst their will.
This suggests that the request for clemency is little more than a legal formality
subject to arbitrary use by both the judicial and the executive branches of the
government.
Cruel treatment
The experience of spending many years awaiting e xecution is itself a form of torture
or cruel and inhuman treatment. This is the norm in Indonesia; many prisoners
sentenced to death have spent more than two decades on death row.

The government has explained such delays as evidence of its respect for the rule of
law. In 1990 the government told the UN Commission on Human Rights that a 24 -year
delay in executing four political prisoners was the inevitable result of a fair and
rigorous judicial process:
“…the process of applying for clemency in their own cases, took a considerable
amount of time and is, in fact, an indication that the defendants were afforded
every legal remedy, including that of appeal to the higher courts.” [29] This explanation was misleading. It deliberately obscured the element of political
calculation which motivated the timing of the executions. It also attempted to deflect
attention from the clear evidence of official indifference to the suffering of the
prisoners and their families. These four prisoners had waited up to 18 years to learn
that their appeals to a higher court had been denied and a further three years to
learn that their requests for presidential clemency, submitted in 1987, had been
re jected.
Many of the procedures surrounding the implementation of the death penalty,
including the decision to execute a prisoner, are shrouded in official secrecy. Those
on death row often do not know they are about to die until one day they are led from
their cells for pre -execution processing. From that moment they have 74 hours to live.
Their relatives and friends often find out after it is too late, compounding their
suffering. The immediate families of two of the four prisoners executed in February
199 0 learned of their deaths from friends who had heard the news on the radio.
Indonesian lawyers have argued that the long delays on death row constitute an
infringement of the Criminal Code, which stipulates that a prisoner may not be
punished twice for the same crime. The Legal Aid Institute (LBH) believes that
prisoners who have remained in jail for more than 20 years have already served one
sentence, making their execution illegal.
Political prisoners
Of the 30 prisoners executed since 1985, 22 were sen tenced to death for their alleged
involvement in the 1965 coup or for membership of the PKI. Five others were Muslim
political prisoners convicted of subversion and other crimes.
Between late 1989 and early 1990 six PKI prisoners were executed. This gave rise to
serious concern for the remaining PKI prisoners on death row, Ruslan Wijayasastra,
Iskandar Subekti (who died in 1993), Asep Suryaman, Bungkus, Marsudi, Isnanto and

Sukatno . Concern was heightened by rumours that they were scheduled for execution
on 11 March 1990. In the event the executions were not carried out, but the
government stated that it would not bow to pressure from foreign governments or
Amnesty International not to carry them out in future. All remain in imminent danger
of execution.
Recent statements and actions by Indonesian government authorities have given rise
to particular concern for the safety of Sukatno, a former member of parliament and
PKI member who h as been in prison for more than 25 years. On 4 September 1993
President Suharto wrote to the Secretary General of the Inter -Parliamentary Union
(IPU) stating that there were no grounds for granting a stay of execution, as urged by
the IPU:
“In compliance w ith your request, I have instructed the Minister of Justice and other
related agencies to make a review of and recommendations on the case. The result of
the review revealed that the convicted person has never asked for clemency nor has
shown any sign of r emorse over his criminal actions, which have claimed many lives
and created serious unrest in our community….Consequently, there is no choice for
the Indonesian Government but to duly implement the execution of the court’s
verdict.” [30] Sukatno was sentenced to death in 1971 for his alleged involvement in the 1965 coup
and his membership of the PKI. The High Court rejected his appeal in 1975, and the
Supreme Court upheld this ruling in 1985. Sukatno has consistently refused to request
clemency, because he maintains that he is innocent and because he apparently fears
that this would remove the final legal obstacle to his execution. However, he has
been pressured by prison a nd military authorities to request clemency or to state in
writing that he does not wish to do so. These actions, and the long and uncertain stay
in prison he has already endured, have exacerbated the inherent cruelty of his
sentence.
The pressure exerted on Sukatno coincided with expressions of concern on his behalf
by the IPU. In February 1991, the Indonesian delegation to the IPU revealed that
because Sukatno had consistently refused to ask for clemency, a request would be
submitted on his behalf. It was later revealed that the District Court of Central
Jakarta had requested clemency in 1986, without Sukatno’s knowledge. Commenting
on the procedures by which the petition for clemency had been submitted, a
resolution of the Inter -Parliamentary Council stat ed that:

“…the appeal on his behalf and against his will, lodged by the court that tried him,
constitutes an arbitrary measure [so that]…Mr Sukatno’s execution would be
arbitrary and unlawful and constitute a gross violation of human rights.” [31] Nevertheless, President Suharto formally rejected the clemency appeal on 13 May
1992, thereby removing the last legal obstacle to Sukatno’s execution.
Criminal suspects
The death sentence has also been imposed for murder and drugs -related offences in
recent years. At least four death sentences have been imposed for drug -trafficking
since 1985, although no one had been executed for the offence by mid -1994. Over the
same pe riod at least 12 people have been sentenced to death for murder, and three
are known to have been executed, although the numbers may be higher.
As in most countries that retain the death penalty for drug offences, the rationale for
its use in Indonesia is that it will deter drug traffickers more effectively than other
punishments. However, despite hundreds of executions around the world during the
past five years, there is no compelling evidence of a decline in drug – trafficking which
could be attributed to the use of the death penalty. It is usually the weakest links in a
drug smuggling chain who are caught and executed, while the syndicate’s leaders
walk free.
Kamjai Khong Thavorn, a Thai seaman, was sentenced to death for drug smuggling by
an Indonesian c ourt in 1988. Despite considerable doubt about his guilt, evidence that
his trial was unfair and humanitarian concern for his impoverished family in Bangkok,
all of his appeals, including a request for presidential clemency, have been rejected.
Kamjai Khon g Thavorn was arrested in August 1987 in Samarinda, East Kalimantan,
after Indonesian customs officials conducting a routine inspection of his ship
discovered 17.76 kilograms of heroin in his cabin. Evidence which emerged after his
trial suggested strongly that Kamjai Khong Thavorn was either innocent or else a very
minor actor in a large drugs smuggling operation. According to defence lawyers, two
men questioned by Thai police in June 1991 admitted that they had placed a bag
containing 20 packages of “hors e medicine” (heroin) in Kamjai’s Khong Thavorn’s
cabin, on instructions from a Japanese national.
Serious doubts have been raised about the fairness of the trial. The original trial, as
well as all subsequent appeals and legal procedures, were conducted in Indonesian,

which Kamjai Khong Thavorn could not speak or understand at the time. There have
also been suggestions that some of the prosecution evidence may have been falsified.
Some stages of the appeals process appear to have been carried out without th e
knowledge or agreement of either the defendant or his lawyers. Kamjai Khong
Thavorn’s lawyers were not informed of the appeal to the Supreme Court or of the
application for presidential clemency. The lawyers have argued that the clemency
appeal was legal ly invalid because it was submitted by prison officials without
Kamjai’s full agreement or understanding. The appeal included an admission of guilt
and was later used by government and judicial authorities as evidence against him,
and as a reason for uphol ding the death sentence.
Kamjai Khong Thavorn was the sole breadwinner for his wife and two children and an
extended family which still lives in a poor neighbourhood in Bangkok. His family only
learned of his imminent execution in 1991 through media report s in Thailand.
Citing irregularities in the trial process, evidence of his innocence and humanitarian
concern for his family, in May 1991 Kamjai Khong Thavorn’s lawyers requested the
Supreme Court to review the case. The Supreme Court refused the request i n
September 1992 on the grounds that there was no new evidence to be heard, and that
clemency had already been denied. In early January 1993 lawyers submitted a second
request for presidential clemency. The President’s decision had not been announced
by mi d-1994.
8. Government human rights initiatives
The government has recently taken a number of widely publicized human rights
initiatives. A National Human Rights Commission was established by Presidential
Decree in June 1993 and its 25 members were appoin ted in December. A group of
international journalists was invited to visit East Timor in February 1994, and in April
the government announced publicly that it wished to discuss human rights with
Amnesty International. Seminars and workshops on human rights have become more
frequent and the national media is increasingly able and willing to report and
comment on such matters.
To the extent that these steps constitute a genuine shift in official attitudes, they
represent an important step forward. Unfortunate ly, they have yet to be matched by
concrete legal and procedural measures to remedy past abuses, or to prevent future
human rights violations. The government has continued to impede independent

human rights monitoring by limiting access to East Timor and I ndonesia, and by
restricting the activities of domestic and international human rights organizations,
including Amnesty International and the ICRC. And while preventing others from doing
so, the government itself has failed to conduct thorough, independent investigations
of serious human rights violations or to ensure that the suspected perpetrators are
brought to justice.
Shaping the human rights debate
Stung by domestic and international criticism of its human rights record, the
government has recently tried to recast the debate about human rights. Its position
constitutes a frontal assault on two fundamental principles: first, that human rights
are universal rights which apply to all people regardless of where they live; and
second, that the internation al community has both a right and a duty to help prevent
human rights violations wherever they occur.
For the sake of its image abroad, the government stresses that it recognizes the
universality of UN human rights standards but argues that, in implementin g these
standards, states must be free to act according to their particular cultural, historical
and political circumstances. In practice, such freedom amounts to a licence for state
violation of basic civil and political rights.
The government’s central p remise is that the principles enshrined in international
human rights covenants are not universal, but reflect liberal “western” values which
emphasize civil and political rights at the expense of economic, social and cultural
rights. What is required, in the official view, is greater emphasis on the rights of the
community, the “nation” and the state. More specifically, the government stresses
that concern for human rights must not be allowed to interfere with a nation’s “right
to develop” or to infringe o n its national sovereignty.
The government contends that Indonesia should be guided by its own “indigenous”
conception of human rights, as embodied in the 1945 Constitution and Pancasila .
These provide only the sketchiest outline of basic rights, and do no t impose any
serious constraints on the authority or behaviour of the state.
The government has also attempted to deflect attention from its own human rights
record by accusing others of exploiting the issue for political and economic ends. Not
without som e justification, it has accused “the West” of hypocrisy, noting that the
governments which criticize Indonesia are themselves often guilty of human rights

abuse. It has taken a strong position against the linking of human rights to aid and
trade relations, accusing western governments of using human rights to disguise
selfish economic and political aims. Posturing of this kind has helped to popularize
the Indonesian Government’s discourse about human rights, but it has done little to
protect the rights of o rdinary people.
The government has also sought to legitimize its own concept of human rights in
international fora. As Chairman of the Non -Aligned Movement (NAM), Indonesia played
a critical role in framing the September 1992 “Jakarta Message”, which enshrined the
princip les of non -interference and national sovereignty in the implementation of
human rights principles. As host and chair of the UN’s Second Asia Pacific Workshop
on Human Rights held in Jakarta in January 1993, the government was able to build
strong regional support for these principles.
The Indonesian Government has also argued strongly against any enhancement of the
power of international human rights institutions that it does not dominate. During the
UN World Conference on Human Rights in Vienna in June 199 3, for example, it
unsuccessfully opposed the creation of a UN Special Commissioner for Human Rights
to coordinate, and give additional political weight to, the UN’s various human rights
bodies.
The government argues that international human rights protect ion can only be
accomplished through “cooperation”, not through outside monitoring. This appeal for
a “cooperative” approach appears designed to evade the external scrutiny of the
government’s human rights record which international law requires. It is cle ar that
government and military officials continue to view actual scrutiny as unwarranted
interference in Indonesia’s internal affairs. Foreign governments and international
organizations which criticize Indonesia’s human rights record are accused of being
“anti -Indonesian” or guilty of cultural arrogance.
The government has also sought to vilify the proponents of universal human rights at
home. Military and other state officials have repeatedly warned that “communists”
and other “extremists” are using huma n rights issues for “subversive ends”.
Liberalism and “western -style human rights” are portrayed as foreign ideologies
inconsistent with Indonesian values: those who espouse them are accused of treachery
or subversion. Yet the students, farmers, lawyers, w orkers, academics and others who
have been outspoken in defence of universal human rights, are no less Indonesian

than the government which pretends to speak on behalf of Indonesian “culture” and
“values”.
Cooperation with UN human rights bodies
Indonesi a became a member of the UN Commission on Human Rights in 1991. As such,
it bears a special responsibility to implement the recommendations enumerated in
that body’s statements and resolutions. Yet, with some minor exceptions, it has not
done so and has in dicated that it does not feel bound to abide by the provisions of
certain resolutions. Its record of cooperation with the UN’s thematic human rights
mechanisms has been similarly chequered.
The government invited the UN’s Special Rapporteur on torture to v isit Indonesia and
East Timor in late 1991. His report concluded that torture is commonplace in
Indonesia and East Timor, and offered 11 concrete recommendations for its
prevention, including the following: the government should accede to major human
right s covenants; detainees’ right of access to a lawyer should be rigorously upheld;
illegally obtained evidence should not be admissible in court; the Anti -Subversion Law
should be repealed; officials found guilty of committing or condoning torture should
be punished; the civilian courts should have jurisdiction over human rights offences
committed by members of the armed forces; and a national commission on human
rights, with independent investigative powers, should be established.
As of mid -1994, more than t wo years after the report was published, the Indonesian
Government had begun to implement only one of these recommendations, with the
establishment of a National Human Rights Commission. The government’s failure to
act on the Special Rapporteur’s recommend ations raises questions about the sincerity
of its stated commitment to uphold international human rights standards. More
important, it has meant that the root causes of torture and ill -treatment identified by
the Special Rapporteur have yet to be addresse d.
In early 1994, the Indonesian Government invited the Special Rapporteur on
extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary executions to visit East Timor later in the year. It
remains to be seen whether the government will cooperate fully with the Special
Rapporteu r, and whether it will implement any recommendations he might make.
The government has answered inquiries by all of the UN human rights thematic
mechanisms. Unfortunately, its responses have not always been satisfactory. In 1992,
the Working Group on Enfor ced or Involuntary Disapperances submitted the names of

207 “disappeared” East Timorese to the government for clarification. By late 1993,
the government had supplied responses on only 20 cases. The Working Group
considered only five of those responses to be satisfactory, noting in its December 1993
report:
“In the remaining 15 cases the names of the persons contained in the Government’s
reply did not correspond to the names…contained in the lists of the Working
Group.” [32] In some cases the government has simply issued a blanket denial of violations
reported. Responding to a letter from the same Working Group, the government
claimed that “the allegation of disappearances in Aceh…is clearly a fabrication, as
there is no such thing as a `general pattern of disappearances’ in Aceh.” [33] Following a long -established practice, the government also questioned the integrity
and impartiality of those who have submitted the reports to the UN, rather than
address the substance of the allegations. In the communication cited above, the
government stated it was:
“…displeased that partisan observers h ave submitted reports to the United Nations
on allegations of human rights violations in Indonesia which are one -sided,
unsubstantiated and not supported by the facts. Moreover, the allegations are
exaggerated and based only on second -hand sources whose re liability is questionable.”
[34] The government has taken a more positive attitude towards the work of other UN
officials and bodies. The UN Secretary -General’s Personal E nvoy, Amos Wako, visited
East Timor in February 1992 and April 1993. UN representatives were permitted to
attend at least one session of the trial of Xanana Gusmão and, in January 1994, the
government accepted a visit to Jakarta and Dili by a delegation fr om the UN
Secretary -General’s office. These moves suggested that the Indonesian Government
has taken expressions of UN concern about East Timor to heart, and they should
therefore be welcomed.
However, visits by the personal envoys or staff of the Secretar y-General do not serve
as a satisfactory replacement for the visits by the UN’s human rights monitoring
mechanisms recommended by the Commission on Human Rights. Because their
mandates do not generally encompass human rights fact -finding, and their finding s
are generally not made public, such envoys do not provide the Commission or the
international community with a basis for assessing the human rights situation in the

territory. The decision not to release the findings from such visits also means that
info rmation about the conditions under which they are conducted cannot be made
public. A more general problem is that such visits do not provide concrete
recommendations, based on specific expertise, through which the human rights
situation might be improved.
Restrictions on human rights monitoring
While the government claims to respect international human rights standards, it
obstructs independent investigations of abuse. Despite some improvements in the past
two years, continued restrictions on access to Ea st Timor and to Aceh and other parts
of Indonesia have made it difficult, if not impossible, for international and domestic
human rights organizations to monitor the human rights situation.
Since the 1991 Santa Cruz massacre the government has frequently s tated its
commitment to improving access to East Timor by human rights and humanitarian
organizations. That commitment was reiterated following a meeting between
Indonesian and Portuguese government representatives in New York in December 1993,
in a meetin g between President Suharto and members of the US Congress in January
1994, and in April 1994 before the fourth round of UN -sponsored talks between
Indonesia and Portugal.
There has been some progress on this front; East Timor is more open to outsiders now
than at any time since 1975. Official delegations from the USA, Australia, Sweden,
and the UN have been granted permission to visit East Timor in the past two years.
However, such visits are tightly controlled by military authorities, and East Timorese
wh o speak to foreign delegates risk detention and interrogation. Visitors who speak
critically about their impressions of East Timor are condemned by the government,
while those who echo the official position are quoted at international meetings and in
the p ress.
The government record with regard to the ICRC has been equally mixed. On the
positive side, it has extended the organization’s access to political detainees both in
East Timor and Indonesia. However, the government continues to deny access, or to
del ay granting it, where matters of “national security” are deemed to be at stake.
The ICRC was able to conduct confidential prison visits in East Timor only sporadically
between March and December 1992. In June 1993 it suspended visits to political
prisoners in the territory for the third time in six months because of unacceptable
restrictions imposed by the military. In early January 1994, the government

suspended ICRC and family visits to Xanana Gusmão, after it was discovered that he
had written letters to the International Commission of Jurists and the Portuguese
Government.
The preoccupation with access to East Timor by international organizations and
delegations has obscured an even more basic problem: that domestic human rights
organizations continue to face restrictions on their work. Notwithstanding the
President’s call for greater political openness, more than 20 people have been jailed
since late 1993 in connection with their non -violent human rights related activities,
and others continue to serve p rison terms.
The National Human Rights Commission
The National Human Rights Commission was established by Presidential Decree in
June 1993 and its full complement of members was decided in December 1993. It
carries out investigations in response to compl aints from victims, lawyers, and
independent organizations. Since it was established the commission has conducted
investigations into a wide range of human rights violations, including several land and
labour disputes, and a number of cases of political im prisonment and extrajudicial
execution. The energy with which the commission began its task was encouraging, and
it surprised critics with the strength of some of its public statements. However, there
is serious doubt that it can meet the standards of impa rtiality and independence set
by the UN, or that it can be effective in bringing a halt to serious human rights
violations.
The commission’s mandate is limited. Its main functions are to advise the government
agencies responsible for the implementation of human rights policy, to engage in
human rights education and to monitor the human rights situation in the country.
While it may look into specific cases of human rights violations and carry out on -site
inquiries, the commission has no formal powers of inve stigation and the government
has no obligation to accept its recommendations or advice.
To date, the commission appears to have interpreted its mandate rather narrowly. In
one of its first official acts, five members of the commission visited 11 of the 21
students arrested during a peaceful demonstration on 14 December 1993. In
comments to th e press, members of the commission noted that the students had been
well treated by police, but they conspicuously failed to comment on the fact of their
arrest and detention. Apparently, the commission did not consider imprisonment for
the peaceful expres sion of political opinions to fall within its mandate. Members of

the commission have sometimes made statements that appear to condone serious
human rights violations. Commenting on “Operation Cleansing” in March 1994,
commission member Bambang Suharto sai d:
“As long as it is done in line with existing procedures…the shooting of criminals can
be understood…Which one is to be chosen, protecting the human rights of criminals
or the victims of crime?”
The composition of the 25 -member commission has given r ise to concern about its
independence. Chairman Ali Said, appointed by the President, is a retired military
officer who has served as a military court judge, Minister of Justice, and Chief Justice
of the Supreme Court. After the 1965 coup, he was the Chief Justice on the special
military court which convicted the former Foreign Minister, Dr Subandrio, of
subversion and sentenced him to death. [35] Proceedings in these specia l military
courts failed utterly to meet international standards of fairness.
The Secretary -General of the commission is the current Director General of
Corrections in the Ministry of Justice; this represents an apparent conflict of interest.
The problems this could cause surfaced just weeks after the commission was formed,
when the government announced that it had suspended visits to Xanana Gusmão by
the ICRC and relatives. Despite the fact that the ban infringed UN principles for the
protection of detaine es, the Director General defended the decision, saying “I have to
discipline him for disgracing the people and the nation of Indonesia.” [36] On the positive side, the comm ission’s members include respected lawyers and legal
scholars with no direct connection to the government or the military. It is
nevertheless striking that the commission includes only one member of a non –
governmental organization, and none of the country’ s best known human rights
activists. According to available reports, prominent human rights activists declined to
serve on the commission because they were not confident it would be able to function
freely and independently.
Additional concern about the co mmission’s independence arises from its legal status.
Because it was established by presidential decree, Indonesian human rights experts
have expressed concern that its survival remains subject to presidential approval. A
related concern is that the commis sion is entirely funded by the state, raising
questions about its independence.
The Government and Amnesty International

Amnesty International was officially barred from visiting Indonesia for more than 15
years following the 1977 publication of a report on political imprisonment in the
country. [37] Relations have improved somewhat in recent years, but the government
has continued to portray Amnesty International as a sub versive organization, bent on
undermining the New Order. While government officials have acknowledged in talks
with Amnesty International that such allegations are without foundation, they
continue unabated in official public statements and internal briefi ngs.
Amnesty International’s campaigns against human rights violations in Indonesia and
East Timor are characterized as interference in the country’s internal affairs. In June
1993, for example, a high -ranking Foreign Ministry official told journalists tha t an
appeal for asylum by seven East Timorese at two embassies in Jakarta had been
“engineered” by Amnesty International, citing a two -page appeal the organization had
issued several hours after the asylum -seekers entered the embassies.
Despite the governm ent’s stated commitment to improving access to Indonesia and
East Timor by international human rights organizations, Amnesty International
continues to face serious obstacles. In January 1993 the government permitted an
Amnesty International delegate to at tend a UN human rights workshop in Jakarta.
However, the delegate was allowed to stay for only five days, making any serious
human rights investigation impossible. Requests for a visa extension were denied, as
were requests to hold substantive talks with g overnment officials. The government
also refused Amnesty International’s delegate permission to travel to East Timor to
observe Xanana Gusmão’s trial.
The government exploited Amnesty International’s visit for political purposes. When
improved access by in ternational human rights organizations was demanded at the
1993 UN Commission on Human Rights the government falsely claimed that Amnesty
International had already been allowed to visit without restriction and that the
organization’s delegate had held a pr ess conference in Jakarta at which he made
unacceptably critical remarks about Indonesia, and about the UN Workshop.
An Amnesty International representative was able to visit Indonesia in July 1993 and
again in March 1994 to conduct research into human rig hts developments in selected
areas of the country. The government was informed of these visits in writing. With
respect to the July 1993 visit, a formal request was extended to meet government
representatives in order to discuss issues of mutual concern, b ut the government did
not respond. Shortly before the March 1994 visit, the government assured Amnesty
International that it would soon be invited to visit Indonesia and East Timor, and in

late April the Foreign Minister said the government hoped to open a dialogue with the
organization. Amnesty International wrote to the government in May welcoming these
statements and proposing a visit within the next two months. Regrettably, by mid –
1994, the government had not replied.
9. Conclusions and recommendations
The structures, policies and attitudes which lie at the root of human rights violations
in Indonesia and East Timor, and which have contributed to their institutionalization,
have endured for almost three decades. The government, and particularly the mil itary
command at its political core, has persistently made it clear that basic human rights
will be set aside in the name of national security, stability, order and development.
Unchecked by domestic legal or political mechanisms, the security forces have
continued to commit violations with impunity.
If human rights violations are to be prevented in the future, concrete steps must be
taken to address their root causes. The chief responsibility for action rests with the
Government of Indonesia. However, to t he extent that they have acquiesced in the
pattern of grave violations for more than a quarter of a century, members of the
international community must also share responsibility.
Amnesty International offers the following set of 32 recommendations to the
Government of Indonesia and to UN member states. If implemented, these measures
could help improve the human rights situation in Indonesia and East Timor. The
recommendations are grouped into three categories: those which would help to
resolve or redress p ast and continuing violations; those which would help to prevent
future violations; and those which would demonstrate the government’s genuine
commitment to the promotion of international human rights standards and their
effective implementation. [38] Recommendations to the Government of Indonesia
I.Resolve and redress human rights violations
To resolve and redress past or continuing human rights violations in Indonesia an d East
Timor, Amnesty International urges the government to:
1. Establish the identity, the circumstances of death, and the whereabouts of the
victims of all reported extrajudicial executions;

2. Permit independent human rights monitors, including forensic experts, to conduct
thorough and impartial investigations of reported burial sites of the victims of all
reported extrajudicial executions;
3. Promptly clarify the fate, or establish the whereabouts, of all those reported to
have “disappeared” in custody;
4. Release immediately and unconditionally all prisoners of conscience, those held
solely for the non -violent expression of their political or religious views;
5. Ensure that all those detained without charge in connection with their alleged
political act ivities, are charged with a recognizably criminal offence and brought to
trial promptly and fairly, or released;
6. Ensure the release, or the speedy and impartial review of the trials, of all those
sentenced in unfair political trials;
7. Provide fair compensation to the victims of all human rights violations or, in the
case of those killed or “disappeared”, to their immediate relatives;
8. Ensure that the suspected perpetrators of human rights violations are brought
promptly to justice bef ore a civilian court, and that they are disarmed and suspended
from active duty pending the outcome of the proceedings;
9. Abolish the death penalty, and commute all outstanding death sentences.
II.Prevent human rights violations
To prevent the occurrence of future human rights violations in Indonesia and East
Timor, Amnesty International urges the government to:
1. Prohibit explicitly by law all extra -legal, arbitrary and summary executions and
“disappearances” and ensure that any such executions are recog nized as criminal
offences and are punishable by penalties which take into account their seriousness;
2. Establish clear guidelines regarding the use of lethal force by government and
government -backed troops in accordance with the UN Code of Conduct for L aw
Enforcement Officials;

3. Prohibit explicitly by law all forms of torture and other cruel, inhuman or
degrading treatment or punishment, and ensure that all such acts are recognized as
criminal offences, punishable by penalties which reflect the serious ness of the crime;
4. Guarantee that all detainees, including those held for suspected national security
offences, are permitted prompt and regular access to lawyers of their choice, and to
doctors and relatives;
5. Ensure that any person deprived of their liberty shall be held in an officially
recognized place of detention and be brought before a judicial authority promptly
after arrest;
6. Take all necessary steps, including the enforcement of existing legislation and the
introduction of further legislati on, to ensure that statements extracted under torture
or other ill -treatment cannot be admitted as evidence during any legal proceedings,
except against a person accused of torture as evidence that the statement was made;
7. Promptly repeal the Anti -Subver sion Law and conduct a thorough review of all
legislation pertaining to national security and public order to ensure that national
security interests cannot be invoked to imprison people for the peaceful exercise of
their right to freedom of expression;
8. Establish and maintain centralized public registers of all detainees in all parts of
the country, to be updated on a frequent and regular basis and made available to
detainees’ relatives, lawyers and the National Human Rights Commission;
9. Ensure that th e mandate, terms of reference, composition and methods of work of
the National Human Rights Commission conform to the standards enumerated by the
UN Commission on Human Rights;
10. Ensure that suspected perpetrators are immediately disarmed and removed fro m
active service pending the outcome of human rights investigations, and that they are
promptly brought to justice before a civilian court.
III.Promote human rights
To demonstrate its commitment to promoting international human rights standards,
and encour aging their full and effective implementation, Amnesty International urges
the government to:

1. Invite the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention, and the UN Working Group on
Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances to visit Indonesia and East Timor in the near
future, in order to conduct a full investigation of the human rights situation;
2. Invite the UN Special Rapporteur on torture to conduct a follow -up visit to
Indonesia and East Timor to assess implementation of the recommendations set out in
his Jan uary 1992 report;
3. Accede to the ICCPR, its First Optional Protocol which permits the Human Rights
Committee to receive individual complaints, and its Second Optional Protocol which
requires State parties to take all necessary steps to abolish the death penalty;
4. Accede to the CAT and recognize the competence of the UN Committee against
Torture to receive individual complaints and to hear inter -state complaints;
5. Permit the regular and unhindered monitoring of human rights in Indonesia and
East Timor by domestic and international human rights organizations, including
Amnesty International.
Recommendations to UN Member States
In view of the grave concern about human rights in Indonesia and East Timor which
has been expressed in a variety of UN fora, A mnesty International calls upon UN
member states to:
1. Urge the Government of Indonesia to invite the UN Working Group on Arbitrary
Detention, and the UN Working Group on Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances to
visit Indonesia and East Timor;
2. Seek a systematic follow -up to the January 1992 report of the UN Special
Rapporteur on torture on his visit to Indonesia and East Timor;
3. Seek a systematic follow -up to the report of the UN Special Rapporteur on
extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary execut ions on his planned 1994 visit to Indonesia
and East Timor;
4. Seek additional means to assure the regular and effective monitoring, under UN
auspices, of the human rights situation in Indonesia and East Timor;

5. Urge the Indonesian Government to permit t he regular and unhindered monitoring
of human rights in Indonesia and East Timor by domestic and international human
rights organizations, including Amnesty International;
6. Encourage the Government of Indonesia to accede to both the International
Covenan t on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights and the ICCPR, and its Optional
Protocols;
7. Encourage the Government of Indonesia to accede to the CAT and recognize the
competence of the UN Committee against Torture to receive individual complaints
and to hear inter -state complaints;
8. Ensure that asylum -seekers are not forcibly returned to Indonesia if they would be
at risk of serious human rights violations there, and ensure that the claims of all
asylum -seekers, including those in detention, are fully and i mpartially assessed.
GLOSSARY
Aceh Merdeka Free Aceh
APEC Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation
Apodeti Timorese Popular Democratic Association
Bakorstanas Coordinating Agency for the Maintenance of National Stability
Brimob Police Mobile Brigade
Bupati Regent
CGI Consultative Group on Indonesia
CNRM Maubere Council of National Resistance
DPR People’s Representative Assembly
Falintil East Timorese National Liberation Army
Fretilin Revolutionary Front for an Independent East Timor
GPK Security Disrupters Mo vement

ICRC International Committee of the Red Cross
IGGI Inter -Governmental Group on Indonesia
IPU Inter -Parliamentary Union
KODAM Regional Military Command
KODIM District Military Command
Kopassus Special Forces Command
KORAMIL Sub -District Military Command
KOREM Resort Military Command
KORPRI Civil Service Corps of the Republic of Indonesia
KOSTRAD Army Strategic Reserve Command
KUHAP Code of Criminal Procedure
KUHP Criminal Code
LBH Legal Aid Institute
Mahmilub Special Military Court
MPR People’s Consultative Assembly
NAM Non -Aligned Movement
OPM Free Papua Movement
Pancasila State ideology of Indonesia
PDI Indonesian Democratic Party
Petrus “Mysterious killing” campaign
PKI Communist Party of Indonesia

POLRI Police of the Repub lic of Indonesia
PPP United Development Party
SBSI Indonesian Prosperous Workers Union
SPSI All Indonesia Workers’ Union
UDT Timorese Democratic Union