South China Morning Post, Friday, November 9, 2001
Focus
Militias adjust to free market
VAUDINE ENGLAND
[Photo: Colourful characters: Members of the Pemuda Pancasila, seen here against
the backdrop of a Web site detailing their organisation, parade their garish colours at
a recent five-yearly get-together.]
They came from across the nation for a five-yearly get-together in their favourite garb -
orange and black camouflage. One man sported cowboy boots, long hair and a
bamboo back-scratcher. Another had dyed his hair red. Two others wore long
Muslim-style gowns and hats replete with prayer beads.
But all of them wore a distinctive orange and black camouflage fabric - in boots,
T-shirts, military gear and blazers - to mark their membership of a once all-powerful
group called Pemuda Pancasila.
In what they view as the good old days of the Suharto military-backed government,
this group ruled supreme as the youth paramilitary organisation which did the Army's
or the Government's dirty work.
Feared as the thugs and bully boys who would clear slums, attack opposition figures
and organise rallies to welcome visiting political patrons, Pemuda Pancasila has a
heritage many newer vigilante groups would envy. The name of the group translates as
"Youth who follow the national ideology".
But times have changed and Pemuda Pancasila can no longer claim to rule the roost.
Just as their favoured political party, Golkar, has slipped to second place in
parliament, so too must Pemuda Pancasila adapt to a new, more diffuse political
environment.
The fall of Suharto in May 1998 opened freedom of political expression at the same
time as freeing up the practice of everyday violence. Whereas once Suharto was the
grandfather of an organised hierarchy of mafia-like organisations, now, any average
politician or businessman with money can foster his or her own paramilitary.
Signs of soul-searching about their role in a now-competitive landscape were evident
at this recent convention. "We used to be hoodlums, but it's all changed now. We
don't need to be hoodlums any more," said Aslahuddin, a Pemuda Pancasila member
from Luwu, in Sulawesi, who has just one name.
"Before, the Pemuda Pancasila identity was as preman [freelance thugs]. But slowly
we are changing and looking to a different future."
Brandishing a book entitled Pemuda Pancasila in the Eyes of the Public, he said
many members now realised their public image was out of tune with how they saw
themselves. "We are learning of our mistakes from this book. We want to counter
what people are saying about us."
Laudatory though his perspective is, chats with members from provinces as far flung
as Irian Jaya (West Papua) and Riau suggest the group has a long way to go.
Members of the more militaristic Riau chapter, who wore combat outfits replete with
dangerous-looking knives strapped to their thighs, freely admitted their focus on what
seemed be a protection racket.
They said they helped look after the interests of leading businessmen who, out of
gratitude, then made donations to the Pemuda Pancasila. They were helping to look
after the premises of Caltex in Riau, they claimed, and promised visiting foreigners
that they would be safe for as long as Pemuda Pancasila was around.
"Many members of Pemuda Pancasila are businessmen and they give us money.
And we hold social activities such as helping to clean the streets," added Mohamad
Saleh, head of the Riau branch based in Palembang, Sumatra. He said Pemuda
Pancasila was "of course" pro-Golkar, but individual members could vote how they
chose.
Perhaps that's a progression from when the group was used by Suharto to help attack
the headquarters of the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P) in 1996. But
arguably the main reason Pemuda Pancasila wants to rethink its role is because
running whole neighbourhoods of cities, including lucrative car-parking or nightclub
rackets, is a growth industry.
Pemuda Pancasila members used to have a firm grip on the Kota area of north
Jakarta. But then the competing Pemuda Panca Marga expanded operations out of
the Tanah Abang neighbourhood with the help of Suharto's son-in-law, then
Lieutenant-General Prabowo Subianto, creating a new variant of turf war.
Through the astute nurturing of alliances and the deployment of thugs on demand,
some Pemuda Pancasila leaders have risen in the bureaucracy and legislature. But
without funds, it and other such groups would not exist, and competition over the
rackets has since been joined by various apparently Muslim-based militias which
allegedly are also backed by key generals or politicians.
The Front to Defend Islam (Front Pembela Islam or FPI) is said to be taking a cut on
the lucrative markets of Tanah Abang, its central Jakarta base. Regardless of what
else it might be up to, the Laskar Jihad's activities in religious fighting in the Malukus
has lessened the role of Pemuda Pancasila, which once lead the pack in fomenting
disturbances in the provinces.
Nowadays, Pemuda Pancasila gatherings seem more like a family picnic. Women in
orange-and-black garb and stilettos emerged from jeeps laden with lunch boxes, and
some children played with toy guns under a tree. Separate to the conference hall at
the Wisma Kinasih at Caringan, Bogor, near Jakarta, was an open-air bazaar where
reams of orange-and-black camouflage fabric was for sale. So too were knives, orange
boots and T-shirts proclaiming that suspected terrorist Osama bin Laden was a hero.
Pemuda Pancasila men turning over the merchandise laughed about the T-shirts and
made fun of their two colleagues who had bin Laden-style Muslim gowns made from
the orange and black. It was as if old thugs don't die, they just fade into a fashion
statement about whatever new macho cause is available.
"We in Pemuda Pancasila are the same as your Greenpeace in the West," said one
merchant, apparently meaning he was keen on direct action for good causes. "But we
need a lot more money, otherwise we won't go anywhere."
Indeed, money is key. Links of some Pemuda Pancasila branches to local military or
police units, and the ever-increasing need of civilians for protection, will keep the
organisation in business. But the boys at Wisma Kinasih are not the only ones to
come calling any more.
"They are a bit passe now. The people who usually pay for preman, or thugs, aren't
shelling out to them these days," said a political analyst.
"In fact, as long as the streets are generally quiet, you can be pretty sure no one's
paying out for anyone.
"We're talking about thugs for hire here and the market is just a whole lot bigger and
looser under so-called democracy than it used to be. Money on the scale that
Pemuda Pancasila is into is getting harder to find."
Vaudine England is the Post's Jakarta correspondent (vaudine@scmp.com)
Received via email from: MM @ Ambon@yahoogroups.com
Copyright © 2001. South China Morning Post Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved.
|
