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View all search resultsReligion was always going to be a problem for a young Republic covering such diverse belief histories, scattered territories, ethnic and linguistic groups
eligion was always going to be a problem for a young Republic covering such diverse belief histories, scattered territories, ethnic and linguistic groups.
Jakarta was often referred to as Pusat (center) when some regions felt they were not getting their fair share or revenue from the government, or that they wanted a Taliban-style of society.
Compared to modern international terrorism targeting civilians and officials alike the risks appear greater today, but Indonesia has over 200 million people now and we have help from Densus 88 to track and eradicate those who wish harm the Republic.
In the 1960s, Indonesia faced two Islamic State breakaway movements, one in West Java, the second in South Sulawesi and by coincidence I was a witness to the TNI/Siliwangi actions against both rebel leaders and their dramatic endings.
The Darul Islam movement based in West Java’s mountains had historic, nationalist roots. Leader Kartosuwiryo had shared his formative teenage years with Sukarno, both as boarders with early nationalist leader, HOS Cokroaminoto, in Surabaya.
Kartosuwiryo signed the historic Djakarta Charter document, drawn up in June 1945 by the Committee Investigating Independence, which included an obligation for Muslims to obey Shariah law, a clause omitted from the final Constitution to Kartosuwiryo’s chagrin.
Kartosuwiryo took to the hinterland and from Tasikmalaya declared he would fight for an Islamic governance (Darul Islam). By 1960 had a small but active armed following, particularly around Garut.
Like all such movements, including the Taliban and Islamic State (IS) group, his popularity soon dwindled because local villagers found his banditry and cruel excesses disagreeable.
Kartosuwiryo by 1962 was a bold outlaw, posing as a religious leader. He took on the famous Siliwangi Division, headed by Alex Kawilarang and his successor Colonel Ibrahim Ajie, whose press conference on Darul Islam I attended in late 1961. Colonel Ajie warned Kartosuwiryo and his men to surrender. If not, he said, “Your lives will be very short.”
By the New Year of 1962 Darul Islam’s increased banditry and random sniper attacks were a serious irritant to president Sukarno, In early February he ordered his minister Ruslan Abdulgani on a confidential mission, with high hopes for a DI resolution.
Ruslan, also deputy chairman of the National Planning Council, had just completed the marathon Indoktrinasi lectures in the Ikada stadium on Jan. 25, 26 and 29, which I had attended.
In a kindly gesture to the only foreigner in the big audience, Ruslan invited me along to see the beautiful Puncak Pass area. I would go as a sightseer while the minister attended to his confidential mission in the government’s lodge.
Ruslan ordered me to be at his residence by 6 a.m., so I started out before dawn on my bike from Kebayoran Baru to Diponegoro, riding over pot-holed unlit streets to make it on time.
I was placed with the minister’s driver up front and we chatted while the minister, who hardly looked up, worked on papers and files he had spread across the rear seat.
On the way I told the driver that Darul Islam snipers had narrowly missed killing me some weeks earlier when I was visiting a tea plantation near Garut. Suddenly, the minister surprised us by asking loudly from the back seat: “When did this happen? Tell me about it!”
I described how the bullet passed so close to my ear there was a painful “smack” on my eardrums, before it hit a leaf-drying drum behind me. The plantation staff shouted Gerombolan! (Terrorists), the first time I had heard the word, and we all took cover.
My near miss was not news. Around Garut, Darul Islam snipers often shot at the TNI or European civilians in cars on the main roads and DI made bigger headlines for assassination attempts on the president.
The other Islamist rebels in Sulawesi, headed by Kahar Muzakar, had on Feb. 7 almost succeeded when Muzakar’s “Islamic governance” followers threw a hand grenade, which missed the president’s car but exploded 30 seconds later, killing three and wounding 28 onlookers, including a young child.
These incidents brought a general feeling of insecurity in Jakarta, reviving talk of the “Cikini Incident” of November 1957, when assassins threw five grenades that missed the president, but killed nine children and wounded 50 other onlookers.
After reaching the government rest house in the mountains, Ruslan told the driver and I to go for a stroll and admire the scenery while he worked.
We were in deep after our long day, but just before midnight the roar of a jeep’s engine awakened us. A Siliwangi officer alighted and spoke at length in urgent whispers to Ruslan, then drove off. Ruslan called upstairs to the driver and me: “Sorry. Please pack up. We must return to Jakarta tonight.”
Weeks later, on May 15, Jakarta was in a state of unease because another Darul Islam assassination attempt was made. A Darul Islam follower shot at but missed the president at prayer in Merdeka Palace. Six people were wounded including the kindly Idham Chalid, chairman of the Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) Islamic organization.
That afternoon I was with the United Press International (UPI)’s bureau chief Russell Dybvik when he read a news flash from Singapore UPI saying Sukarno, president of Indonesia, had been shot dead. The Singaporeans had misinterpreted the word “tertinggal” (in this case, unharmed) as “meninggal” (died) and all hell was breaking loose in Jakarta.
Dybvik expected to be expelled, so we rushed to the Foreign Office to explain this to the office’s spokesmen Ganis Harsono and Alex Alatas. They had anticipated us, telling a relieved Dybvik they would not expel him for UPI Singapore’s mistake.
Soon after, on June 5, the Siliwangi captured Kartosuwiryo and 20 of his followers near Cipaku in West Java. The public breathed a sigh of relief and the Bandung road was declared safe.
I now suspected Ruslan’s mission was all about Darul Islam, but not until February 1965 did Ruslan confirm it. On a plane going to Makassar he told me he had gone to confirm the capture of Kartosuwiryo, but the rebel had slipped the net.
Kartosuwiryo, 62, was executed in September 1962, aged 62 years.
We heard whispers in Merdeka Palace that Sukarno cried (and he did not deny it) when a firing squad shot his former friend dead.
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