History's demise
History's demise
The passing of Andi M. Jusuf earlier this week marked not only
the death of a loyal soldier, but also the demise of our history.
Soft-spoken and popular among his men, Jusuf rose through the
ranks to serve as military commander between 1978 and 1983,
ending his public service as chairman of the Supreme Audit
Agency. He also served in a number of other senior positions,
including minister of basic industries under president Sukarno.
At a time when Johnny-come-latelys dominate our political
landscape, massaging their own egos with self-honoring, yet
shallow biographies, we are hard pressed to find one of Jusuf,
who was witness to one of the nation's most pivotal moments.
Jusuf shunned the limelight, choosing instead to "fade away"
despite the clamor for his testimony. Sadly, despite his
accomplishments and service to the nation, it is what Jusuf did
not say or do that the Indonesian people will judge him by.
Jusuf's death in Makassar, South Sulawesi, on Wednesday ended
any realistic hopes of learning what really transpired in Bogor
Palace on the fateful evening of March 11, 1966.
The events that unfolded on that night were a precursor to the
effective transfer of power from Sukarno to Soeharto.
According to the official version of events, Soeharto sent a
delegation comprising Jusuf, minister of veteran affairs Maj.
Gen. Basuki Rachmat and Jakarta Military commander Brig. Gen.
Amir Machmud to meet with Sukarno.
O.G. Roeder, in his biography of Soeharto, wrote that they
were sent to convey the "necessity to create an atmosphere of
calm and stability", which could only be achieved "by the
transfer ... of presidential powers to Gen. Soeharto".
To this day there is still speculation about the prodding
needed to get Sukarno to sign the March 11 Order, or Supersemar,
transferring power to Soeharto.
In the more open climate of reformasi, other witnesses have
given a somewhat different account of events. This includes
testimony from palace guards who claim one of the three generals
may have threatened Sukarno, who was already in the twilight of
his leadership, into signing the document.
Throughout the years, however, Jusuf has maintained his
silence. No remarks, no books, no interviews, just silence.
One can read many meanings into his refusal to speak. What is
clear is that to this day, even the whereabouts of the momentous
Supersemar document remain unknown.
Maybe the events were as officially portrayed, so Jusuf did
not feel the need to comment further. Or perhaps his silence was
motivated by the need to cloak this point in our history.
Supersemar is one of those rare occurrences where we see a
confluence of history and politics. Where the political
foundation of the present day is defined by a singular historical
moment.
It is not a case of opening old wounds, but rather a question
of calibrating the foundations of our belief system.
Accomplishments springing from a well of deceit only perpetuate
lies and future disillusionment.
This nation will never be great if it cannot come to terms
with its own history. It is this recognition that has prompted
plans to form a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to heal the
nation's untended wounds.
Unfortunately, the primary actors of Supersemar have now
passed away. We are left with Soeharto who, despite sending the
three generals to Bogor, may not know the details of what
transpired there.
Now all we can do is hope that what happened in the past stays
in the past, never to be repeated.
"Judge of nations, spare us yet. Lest we forget -- lest we
forget!"