Mid-afternoon darkness
As might have been expected, Pius Lustrilanang's disclosure of the ordeal he suffered at the hands of his abductors during the two months of his disappearance, and subsequent hurried departure for the Netherlands only hours later, has created waves and drawn a multitude of reactions, both in this country and abroad. Many Indonesians deeply sympathize with the dissident activist and approve of his actions; others fear that he will use his stay abroad to start a crusade against the present Indonesian regime, thereby further worsening this country's human rights record in international fora.
Certainly, there is grounds for expecting the latter. As has been reported by the press, aside from seeking refuge in Europe, Pius also intends to talk about his experiences on human rights platforms in Holland, Germany, Britain and the United States, where he is certain to find accommodating ears. None of this will help improve Indonesia's already blemished human rights record abroad and might possibly even lead to the censuring of this country by the international community.
On the other hand, it is difficult under the circumstances to blame the dissident for deciding to seek refuge in a country outside that of his own. For many of us, the revelations he made before the National Commission on Human Rights do indeed paint a rather grizzly Kafkaesque picture of what life can be like for people whose views differ from those of the people in power.
By his admission, Pius was abducted at gunpoint in the middle of the afternoon on Feb. 4 in front of Cipto Mangunkusumo General Hospital. He was forced into a gray Toyota Corolla sedan in which three men were waiting. He was handcuffed and blindfolded and driven to a place "somewhere between Jakarta and Bogor", where he was kept in a windowless cell for two months, handcuffed and blindfolded. During this time he was interrogated and repeatedly kicked and beaten and given electric shocks. On the first day of his interrogation he was immersed in a water tank and asked questions and kicked in the head when he failed to answer satisfactorily. He did not see the faces of his abductors because they always wore masks.
The apparent ease with which Pius was abducted from a public place as crowded as Cipto Mangunkusumo General Hospital in the middle of the afternoon -- plus the fact that his abductors could keep him locked up for two months without the security forces being able to, or even appearing seriously trying, to find him, and the fact that there are many more activists who disappeared apparently under similar circumstances -- makes it appear as if secret kidnaping squads are moving among us, impervious to the law and unknown to the authorities. Under the circumstances one could forgive dissidents for not having too much confidence in the assurances given by the authorities that their personal safety is guaranteed.
Intentionally or not, the description which Pius gave us of his ordeal was one of life in a country ruled by force instead of the law. We do believe that the Armed Forces are sincere when they say that they did not order the disappearances and that abductions are not part of their policies. Still, it is in the field of their professional responsibility to prevent, or at least trace, such disappearances, to find the abductors and to hold them accountable for their deeds.
Under present circumstances only a full, thorough and open investigation can help restore the feeling of security and confidence among Indonesians, including those who feel duty-bound to express views that differ from those expressed by the government. No less important, such measures would also effectively counterbalance any unfounded negative accusations that are made abroad made against the Indonesian government.