Munir's case at the UNHCR

Aboeprijadi Santoso, Amsterdam

President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono's remark that the case of Munir would hopefully "change history" may be a significant development. But what did the President precisely mean? And what history was he referring to?

It was an unusual event on an unusual sunny spring day in The Hague last week, when a number of Indonesian human rights activists, all in dark clothing, entered the Dutch parliament. After a one-hour meeting, they left the building with happier faces. Munir's widow, Suciwati, Poengky Indarti from Imparsial (the human rights body founded by Munir), and the coordinator of the Human Rights Working Group Raffendy Djamin, accompanied by local activists, apparently had a good discussion with members of the Dutch parliament.

Suciwati was a symbol of both victim and fighter as she, dressed in black with a small photograph of her late husband on her chest and armed with networks of support, appeared with confidence. The name Munir is now well known by the Netherlands' public, and the story of his murder has been covered widely, so Suci's appearance there caught the public's attention.

Earlier, Suciwati and the group met with and gained the support of the Indonesian envoy in The Hague, Mohammad Yusuf. They concluded their lobbying at the United Nations Human Rights Commission in Geneva, where she received warm support for her efforts to press the international community to closely monitor the investigation into Munir's murder. She was not only seeking the truth concerning her late husband, but also pleaded for the security of human rights defenders generally. "Munir should be the last; no more political killings," said Suci.

That message was well received in Brussels. To her great satisfaction, European Union officials and parliamentarians promised to pay serious attention to the Munir case. They will closely observe, as one official put it, "whether within three months, more will be disclosed other than just the perpetrators."

Back in the late-1970s the international solidarity movement on Indonesia in Europe started with the campaign by Amnesty International and Tapol, a London-based human rights body led by the ex-political prisoner Carmel Budiardjo and a small number of Indonesian expatriates in Paris and Amsterdam. In Geneva, Brussels and other capitals, they focused on East Timor, but also raised the cases of left-wing and Islamist political prisoners. Throughout those decades, however, few Indonesian activists were involved.

Oddly -- possibly because of fear, past traumas, or misguided nationalism -- none of the hundreds of left-wing expatriates living in Europe since the 1970s ever raised their cases in international forums. It was only after President Abdurrachman Wahid called them patriot klayaban (wandering patriots) and asked them to come home that they belatedly brought Indonesia's massacres of 1965 and their own civil rights cases to Geneva. Too little, too late, for such important matters.

By contrast, a new generation of Indonesian home-based activists has now taken the lead in the international human rights campaign since the mid-1990s.

However, Suci's mission is still about one single individual -- however prominent the late Munir may be -- and about groups of human rights defenders -- however important their contribution may be. Unfortunately, the case of Munir is far from being unique.

There are grave suspicions of similar poisonings; an honest minister (Baharuddin Lopa), a brave general (Agus Wirahadikusumah), and certain judges. And there are also the almost forgotten brutal killings, such as of labor activist Marsinah (1993) and Acehnese human rights lawyer Jaffar Sidiq Hamzah (2001).

Mystery also surrounds the killings of Papuan activists Arnold Ap (1984) and Theys H. Eluay (2001). An attempt to "softly" kill ex-Falintil commander Paulino "Mauk Mouruk" Gama at a Jakarta military hospital in 1994 failed, thanks to a brave nurse.

In addition to Wiji Thukul, a critical activist poet, there remains the cases of activists who were "disappeared" in 1998; cases that brought Munir into prominence.

The list is far from exhaustive, but such are the practices of a police state in protecting their own interests. The assassination of Munir by poisoning is just a continuation of these past practices, where units of the state took action against critical activists back in the Soeharto days. Unlike organized rebels and their supporters in conflict regions, individual activists seemed to have been carefully selected and targeted for intimidation, disappearance and/or murder.

If it is this legacy of murderous mystery that President Susilo wishes to change, them his statement should be welcomed. It remains to be seen, however, whether he will be able to make a breakthrough in the investigations into the Munir case.

The writer is a journalist with Radio Netherlands, Amsterdam.