Syahnakri, a professional soldier

Syahnakri, a professional soldier

Lela E. Madjiah, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

During a closed-door seminar on East Timor at Chatam House in
London in 1999, a senior editor of a leading Indonesian daily
asked what the hell was a two-one-star (??) Army general doing in
that meeting?

He was referring to Kiki Syahnakri, then deputy operations to
the Army chief. Little did he, and for that matter, the public,
know that Kiki was there not only because he served several tours
in East Timor and is fluent in Tetun, but is also
well-known among pro-independence fighters, including Jose Ramos
Horta, who was a speaker at the seminar. The two chatted in Tetun
during breakfast one morning, to the astonishment of the other
guests who thought, "Weren't they enemies?"

Kiki was born in Karawang, West Java, on April 22, 1947. His
name made it to the front page in 1999, not only in local
newspapers but also in the foreign print media, when he was
appointed commander of the commander of Pengusasa Darurat Militer
(the military emergency government) in East Timor.

A 1971 graduate of the military academy in Magelang, Central
Java, Kiki served briefly (eight months) as military commander of
Dili and was moved to the Army's headquarters following the
Liquisa incident in 1995.

In November 1999 he was appointed commander of the Udayana
Military Command, overseeing East and West Nusa Tenggara and
Bali. The following year he was appointed Army deputy chief until
he retired on May 1 and handed over his post to the Army chief on
May 3.

He is married to Ratnaningsih and is blessed with two sons and
a daughter.

Question: Tell me, why did you join the military?

Answer: I was brought up in the small town of Teluk Jambe in Karawang
(West Java). My village was a stronghold of the DI/TII (Darul
Islam/Tentara Islam Indonesia) rebellion and was therefore a
center of military operations.

Troops from the Siliwangi Division were stationed there. I saw
them every day and became interested in what they did; how, for
example, they braved the rain to hunt down DI/TII rebels. To be a
soldier was my heart's desire and I joined the military to
fulfill a childhood dream, not just to find a job.

Also, my father was close to TNI officers who came to my
village to lead the operations against DI/TII, among them (G.H.)
Mantik and Kharis Suhud. My father was already in his 50s then
and while he could no longer carry a weapon, he took part in
planning operations. Our house became a headquarters for such
officers as Kharis Suhud and Pak Mantik.

Q: You were so close to Pak Mantik that you became like his
adopted son...

A: My father died when I still in high school. When I graduated,
I took the test (for entrance to the military academy) in
Magelang but failed. They never told me why I failed. The
following year I tried again, but only after I told my mother. I
thought may be I failed the first time because I didn't tell her
and she didn't give me her blessing. It turned out that she gave
me her full support, and the second time I passed.

However, when I was in the first semester my mother died. It
was Pak Mantik who took charge, maybe because he had emotional
ties to my parents. I was an only child, you know. I was thrown
out of balance by my mother's death because if I went home to see
her for the last time, I would have missed school for more than
three days and risked expulsion. Pak Mantik told me not to go
home because I would have missed the funeral anyway, so I stayed
in Magelang.

After this I became closer to Pak Mantik and his family. He
visited me in Magelang three times to give me all the support
that I needed, and to tell you the truth, I needed it badly. He
told me, "You are now a son to me, don't fail."

Q: People consider you a soldier's soldier, a general who is
close to the troops...

A: Maybe it was because I spent most of my time in military
operations, and in a military operation soldiers are assets. We
cannot keep them at a distance. If we want to succeed, we must
manage them well, and there is a difference between managing
goods and managing people. Soldiers are not goods, they are
people, and when they feel comfortable with us, they will do
anything we ask of them. I treated my troops as equals; we spent
time together to have a smoke and discuss things. There was never
any fear of their overstepping the line because, despite our
closeness, the troops understood the hierarchy.

Q: You made the front pages when you were appointed commander of
the military emergency government in East Timor in 1999. What
lessons did you learn during that impossible assignment?

A: My experience as Panglima Darurat Militer commander convinced
me even more of the need to improve our troops' professionalism.
Any officer who spent most of his time in the field would know
that compared with the Interfet (International Force for East
Timor), TNI troops were not professional. We don't even have to
compare them with the Australian or New Zealand troops; even
compared with fellow ASEAN troops, our troops are not
professional.

During patrols, for example, Interfet troops were serious and
always followed procedures in performing their tasks, at the same
time maintaining alertness. TNI troops, on the other hand, looked
relaxed, rifles slung over their shoulders. You can't patrol with
a rifle slung over your shoulder. That speaks of recklessness.

Q: What factor do you think was mainly responsible for East
Timor's separation from Indonesia?

A: It was that lack of professionalism, particularly with regard
to character. Winning the hearts and minds of the people is key
in a guerrilla war, and we strayed from this guerrilla
philosophy. That was why we lost East Timor.

Q: What is your plan now that you are retired?

A: If I am still needed in the government, I will feel honored to
serve. If not, I will continue my farming business (he has a
strawberry plantation in Lembang, West Java -- Ed). I have also
received quite a few offers to join business groups, but I am
still considering them.

Q: Why farming?

A: I spent most of my time as an officer sleeping in tall grass
rather than in a bed. Farming bring back that feeling; the peace,
the tranquility. Besides, it's not bad money either. A greenhouse
measuring a thousand square meters can hold 7,800 strawberry
plants. Each plant can yield one kilogram of strawberries in
three months. If a kilo is priced at Rp 25,000, or let's say Rp
20,000, that's more than Rp 150 million.

But to tell you the truth, I am also interested in entering
business. I learned a lot about business when as deputy chief I
was tasked with revamping the Army's foundation. When I started,
I was completely ignorant, didn't even know such terms as audit,
due diligence or RoI. Now, although I wouldn't say I'm an expert,
I am familiar with business matters and how to handle them.