Aceh: Still dreaming of
freedom
Nervous Indonesian soldiers patrol the luch Acehnese countryside
The stillness of the impossibly green rice-fields was
broken only by the twitter of birdsong and the crunch of
marching boots.
It might have been the most peaceful
scene on earth, and yet the air was
heavy with the possibility of violence.
Just five minutes before the road had
been lined with people, buying and selling fruit, chatting
in animated groups, the usual bustle of any Indonesian
village.
Suddenly they were no
longer there, as the soldiers
walked quickly past, eyes
darting from side to side,
fingers gripping their
weapons.
These are the two worlds of
Aceh: The frightened young
men who have been sent
from other islands to subdue
this rebellious; and the
Acehnese people, hardened
and embittered by years of
harsh repression.
In a region where nation states are so new and so
fragile, the Acehnese think they have history on their
side.
This was a powerful
independent state,
dominating the Straits of
Malacca when Marco Polo
first arrived in East Asia in
the 13th century.
Right up until this century, it
resisted attempts by
outsiders to control it - the
2,000 graves filling the old
Christian cemetery in the
provincial capital testify to
the trouble the Dutch had in
trying to drag Aceh into its colonial empire.
Now, in the chaos and uncertainty following the collapse
of the Suharto regime, the Acehnese are having another
stab at breaking free.
History is clearly on Teunku Abdullah Syafei's mind as
he bounds up the steps of the little mosque where he's
agreed to meet me.
It has proved unexpectedly
easy to find this rebel
commander, who is being
hunted down by several
thousand Indonesian troops.
When he realises I'm English
he grasps me in a suffocating
embrace.
"The English are our friends",
he proclaims to his armed
bodyguards who have taken
up positions beside the doors
and windows of the mosque.
"They signed a treaty back in 1873 recognising us as a
state."
Tradition of resistance
It's a piece of history I know almost nothing about, but I
don't let on. Teunku Syafei is passionate about his
country's tradition of resistance.
"We Acehnese understand
the meaning of war", he
says. "We'll beat the
Indonesians, just as we beat
the Dutch."
There is a struggle going on
to redefine the new Indonesia
and it's being conducted at
two levels.
On the ground it's a raw and
bloody battle for supremacy,
pitting different ethnic and
religious groups against each other, with an increasingly
demoralised army trying to position itself somewhere in
the middle.
But at another level, it is about what kind of country
Indonesia should be - or whether this amazingly diverse
string of islands should be a country at all.
The Acehnese already appear to have made up their
minds.
Dreams of independence
In the refugee camps which
have sprung up around the
mosques to shelter the tens
of thousands fleeing from the
army, life revolves around the
dreams of an independent
state
The people use only their
own Acehnese language and
in the evening, before
prayers, they sing rousing
national songs and fly the
black-and-red Acehnese flag.
They refuse to have anything to do with the local
Indonesian administration, which operates in a vacuum
behind barbed wire and sandbags.
The soldiers are hated, and they know it. Years of
indiscriminate brutality have robbed them of any
prospect of winning hearts and minds.
Yet for the government in Jakarta, this is still a life or
death contest it cannot afford to lose.
An abstract state
"Indonesia is an abstract concept", explains Dewi
Fortuna Anwar, President Habibie's spokeswoman. "it is
either the whole of the former Dutch East Indies, or it's
nothing."
In her view, to let the Acehnese go would be to invite the
dismemberment of the whole archipelago into dozens of
potentially unstable little republics. And she is convinced
the international community, bruised by its experience in
the former Yugoslavia, wouldn't want that.
Maybe not.
But if the casualties continue to pile up on both sides in
Aceh, and in other troubled parts of the country, the rest
of the world must wonder just how great the human cost
will be of keeping this most unwieldy of nations together.
freedom
Nervous Indonesian soldiers patrol the luch Acehnese countryside
The stillness of the impossibly green rice-fields was
broken only by the twitter of birdsong and the crunch of
marching boots.
It might have been the most peaceful
scene on earth, and yet the air was
heavy with the possibility of violence.
Just five minutes before the road had
been lined with people, buying and selling fruit, chatting
in animated groups, the usual bustle of any Indonesian
village.
Suddenly they were no
longer there, as the soldiers
walked quickly past, eyes
darting from side to side,
fingers gripping their
weapons.
These are the two worlds of
Aceh: The frightened young
men who have been sent
from other islands to subdue
this rebellious; and the
Acehnese people, hardened
and embittered by years of
harsh repression.
In a region where nation states are so new and so
fragile, the Acehnese think they have history on their
side.
This was a powerful
independent state,
dominating the Straits of
Malacca when Marco Polo
first arrived in East Asia in
the 13th century.
Right up until this century, it
resisted attempts by
outsiders to control it - the
2,000 graves filling the old
Christian cemetery in the
provincial capital testify to
the trouble the Dutch had in
trying to drag Aceh into its colonial empire.
Now, in the chaos and uncertainty following the collapse
of the Suharto regime, the Acehnese are having another
stab at breaking free.
History is clearly on Teunku Abdullah Syafei's mind as
he bounds up the steps of the little mosque where he's
agreed to meet me.
It has proved unexpectedly
easy to find this rebel
commander, who is being
hunted down by several
thousand Indonesian troops.
When he realises I'm English
he grasps me in a suffocating
embrace.
"The English are our friends",
he proclaims to his armed
bodyguards who have taken
up positions beside the doors
and windows of the mosque.
"They signed a treaty back in 1873 recognising us as a
state."
Tradition of resistance
It's a piece of history I know almost nothing about, but I
don't let on. Teunku Syafei is passionate about his
country's tradition of resistance.
"We Acehnese understand
the meaning of war", he
says. "We'll beat the
Indonesians, just as we beat
the Dutch."
There is a struggle going on
to redefine the new Indonesia
and it's being conducted at
two levels.
On the ground it's a raw and
bloody battle for supremacy,
pitting different ethnic and
religious groups against each other, with an increasingly
demoralised army trying to position itself somewhere in
the middle.
But at another level, it is about what kind of country
Indonesia should be - or whether this amazingly diverse
string of islands should be a country at all.
The Acehnese already appear to have made up their
minds.
Dreams of independence
In the refugee camps which
have sprung up around the
mosques to shelter the tens
of thousands fleeing from the
army, life revolves around the
dreams of an independent
state
The people use only their
own Acehnese language and
in the evening, before
prayers, they sing rousing
national songs and fly the
black-and-red Acehnese flag.
They refuse to have anything to do with the local
Indonesian administration, which operates in a vacuum
behind barbed wire and sandbags.
The soldiers are hated, and they know it. Years of
indiscriminate brutality have robbed them of any
prospect of winning hearts and minds.
Yet for the government in Jakarta, this is still a life or
death contest it cannot afford to lose.
An abstract state
"Indonesia is an abstract concept", explains Dewi
Fortuna Anwar, President Habibie's spokeswoman. "it is
either the whole of the former Dutch East Indies, or it's
nothing."
In her view, to let the Acehnese go would be to invite the
dismemberment of the whole archipelago into dozens of
potentially unstable little republics. And she is convinced
the international community, bruised by its experience in
the former Yugoslavia, wouldn't want that.
Maybe not.
But if the casualties continue to pile up on both sides in
Aceh, and in other troubled parts of the country, the rest
of the world must wonder just how great the human cost
will be of keeping this most unwieldy of nations together.