Poisoning of an activist a test case for Susilo

Aboeprijadi Santoso, Amsterdam

The arsenic poisoning of the Indonesian human rights champion, Munir, has aroused so much attention that he is even more "present" in death than he was in life. Yet, without the reform of state apparatuses and the will and determination of the country's leadership, the case will remain a mystery.

Munir's untimely death is a tragedy that illustrates the real divide between the state and civil society -- the legacy of the New Order's state dominance, which remains strong in some sectors and could reemerge despite post-Soeharto democratic reform. Like other Indonesian human rights fighters, Munir's activism was bound to come up against resistance, mostly from individuals or groups within state apparatuses who had been accused of rights violations.

As he was also greatly interested in the war against corruption, many elements within the same apparatuses had every reason to protect themselves. Finally, it's no coincidence that, when the autopsy report arrived in Indonesia, it was state interests rather than the citizen's rights that almost automatically prevailed.

The political assassination of Munir, therefore, has incited increasing concerns worldwide. It has become a case for civil societies to defend and strengthen themselves vis a vis the interests of some state elements.

Munir, 39, has been described as "everything a human-rights activist should be: Principled, tough, smart, funny and fearless." In the words of Sidney Jones of the International Crisis Group, "he stood up to people in power, made them angry, got threat after threat after threat, and never gave up." (Asia Times, Nov. 16).

Born in the same year as the New Order, itself born from massive atrocities (1965), Munir's activism was bound to confront state power. He rose to prominence when Soeharto was forced to relinquish his power in 1998. He was allegedly murdered by poisoning in a year when the state is challenged by demands for civil supremacy and clean governance.

Most of the issues he was involved with were sensitive ones, from the disappearances of several antigovernment activists in 1998, to the investigation of East Timor violence in 1999. Unlike some of his senior colleagues, he was not constrained by an excessive "patriotic" spirit when dealing with problems such as those of East Timor and Aceh.

He may have been too close to the truth, worrying some. A few months before he died, he was preoccupied with investigations for the campaign to oppose the laws on the Indonesian Military (TNI) and possible corruption related to the budget for the Aceh war and military civic mission. It is believed he planned to write a dissertation on Aceh at the University of Utrecht.

His enemy, therefore, as Munir's friends at Indonesian Human Rights Watch (Imparsial) hinted, should be sought within the "powerful institutions" of the state. This distrust illustrates the growing cleavage between civil society and some state elements. Unless Munir's case is successfully resolved, such a condition is not conducive for both the state and society to consolidate Indonesia's hard-won democracy.

Another issue, which may have a lesser but similar effect, is the autopsy report. Munir's case and the problem of the autopsy report exemplifies the extent to which the relationship between states is prioritized over the human fate and human rights of a citizen and his family, no matter the crimes and the suffering involved.

Bureaucratic hurdles and the diplomatic, customs and legal frameworks of the two countries involved -- Indonesia and the Netherlands -- have completely denied Munir's family the legitimate right to first-hand knowledge of the full autopsy report.

There are two problems here: the six-week delay of the report and the denial of the victim's rights. The Netherlands Forensic Institute (NFI), which conducted the autopsy, had apparently been "too busy" with other things, including moving its office and laboratory.

Three weeks after Munir's death, in late September, when the report was expected to be issued, the Dutch authorities said the case needed to be reexamined. But, it was not until six weeks later, early this month, that Munir's case was made a "high priority". Why -- and how -- a six-week delay should occur when the case at hand is a serious matter, is not clear.

Meanwhile, the case had been transferred to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in The Hague, ignoring the agreement at Schiphol airport on Sept. 9 between Munir's family and the local prosecutor's office (the Parket Haarlem, whose jurisdiction includes Schiphol) that the family would be the first to receive the report via the Dutch mission in Jakarta.

Worse, when the summary of the report finally arrived at the Indonesian Foreign Affairs Ministry on Nov. 11, the latter allegedly leaked it to a Dutch correspondent, but failed to inform Munir's widow, Suciwati. It was not until the latter went to a lot of trouble to make inquiries at the Foreign Ministry, the Office of the Coordinating Minister for Political, Legal and Security Affairs and the National Police that she was shown -- but did not acquire -- the summary.

The decision was apparently made on the legal grounds that it was a possible crime against a non-Dutch citizen, on a non-Dutch flight, in non-Dutch territory and "it was not a universal case".

Diplomatic, bureaucratic and legal arguments have thus won over anything else in the case of this extraordinary political crime. It's a formal and minimalist argument, without a shred of empathy, that flatly ignores the victim's right.

From the point of view of the victim, the only positive element so far is a verbal pledge. Asked by Munir's family representative, Sri Rusminingtyas, at a press conference in The Hague on Nov. 19, whether the police would hand a copy of the full Dutch autopsy report to the family if they got one, the delegation's chief, Anton Carliyan, answered affirmatively.

As bureaucratic and legal problems sadly denied Munir's family their legitimate right, it remains to be seen whether it is possible to have something that has often proven to be impossible in the past i.e. a thorough and credible investigation to find and punish the perpetrator(s) and those responsible for the crime. There lies an opportunity for the new President to make a difference.

To resolve Munir's case justly is important for the sake of human rights defenders and for Indonesia's democracy -- hence, this is a test case for President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono's administration.

The writer is a journalist with Radio Netherlands. The views he expresses in this article are his own.