Sumatra Places
Michael Ault 2001

"Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few."
Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Mask of Anarchy

Twelve of us were tightly wedged in the six-seat, rust-engulfed, mini-van, bouncing along the loosely packed gravel road. Small rocks crackled from under the weight of the deteriorating vehicle. Our current destination was a rain forest village located in the mountains of the military occupied territory known as Aceh in Northern Sumatra, Indonesia. Images of jade forested hills lined with towering patches of trees overwhelmed my line of vision, filling me with a serene sense of beauty. However, in the recesses of my mind, I kept hearing a voice remind me that several miles to the north of our location, the citizens of Aceh were resisting the Indonesian Military's presence and multinational corporations' dominance. Thoughts of execution style murders, torture, rape, mass graves, and citizen disappearances were silenced as the pockmarked gravel turned to Sumatran potholed dirt.

Weeks on the road, and the utter lack of sleep from the night before, had finally started to take their toll. I was feeling dodgy, and quite drained, as the region's tropical humidity seemed to wring every ounce of moisture from my body. All we had to eat in the past eight hours were a couple of soda crackers we purchased earlier from a roadside vendor. My head throbbed, and I quickly decided I needed to relax my inner thoughts in silent meditation.

Sharon, my traveling companion, and I were the only two westerners in the van and we stood out like obtrusive flashing neon signs. Mentally calm but too tired to sleep, I decided to strike up a conversation with a young Indonesian man crammed next to me named Bomba, or as he called himself, Bobbie. His mid-back length, pony-tailed, jet-black hair and the tribal tattoo on his arm seemed to imply a certain awareness of western popular culture. Or, as I would wonder later, did it imply western culture's awareness of him? I asked him, straining in one of Indonesia's 365 languages and dialects, "Bisa berbicara bahasa Inggris?" Do you speak English? He did.

Bobbie and I talked for most of the three-hour ride. He was well informed of international events and talked mostly about his country, especially his own village. Many people come to his village to see "the monkeys." He estimated about 300 visitors so far this year. In a sardonic voice, he told me about his friend who was recently involved in a motorcycle accident along the same road on which we were now traveling. Since emergency crews and ambulances are scarce resources in this region, he lay on the side of the road holding his brains for about twenty minutes until a driver found him and drove him the two hour distance to the Medan hospital. He died at the hospital several hours later from obvious complications. Bobbie also informed me that last year a monkey in the Government's Orang-Utan Rehabilitation Center became ill. Several hours after calling the medical crews, a large helicopter landed in a field at the base of his 400 people village, and flew the monkey to a nearby hospital for treatment. The monkey was back three days later on an air-conditioned bus, and apparently, in good spirits.

He asked me questions about American involvement in the region and the world. He displayed the kind of knowledge that originates from a human understanding of self-preservation, and is animated by the particulars of one's life-experience. At the root of each question lie themes of oppression, justice and the desire to understand why America is, well, America. He had never lived the American Dream, only its darker nightmare. Over the years, colonial powers and multinational corporations found this place to be economically important. It is only political because they must keep the national Indonesian government and local police forces loyal by sharing their economic profits with them. To the corporations, payments to the military and the local police forces are just tick marks on the debit side of a rather long international accountant's ledger. To the people this oligarchic political arrangement affects, it is something quite different.

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The region is rich with the raw material used to produce liquefied natural gas, so naturally there is a strong multinational business presence. In 1968, Pertamina (Indonesia's State Oil Company), Japanese-Indonesia, and Exxon formed the multinational corporation, PT Arun. According to the details of the corporate/governmental merger, Exxon would receive 70% of all profits from its future ventures. This is still the case today, even after the merger of Exxon and Mobil in 1999. In 1971, their drilling explorations discovered the world's largest natural gas field (Jereski 2001). Since then, Exxon and now Exxon-Mobil has filled the coffers of one of the most devastated economies in South-East Asia, by paying money directly to the National Indonesian government and the local police forces. In return, they provide "security forces," or better known as the Indonesian National Army (TNI), to protect the company from the indigenous "rebel" threat. According to Kontras-Aceh (Commission for Disappearances and Victims of Violence in Aceh), Exxon-Mobil spends "around $530,000 per month on security forces," which includes payments to at least 17 military and police stations, with 1,000 personnel total (Quoted in Jereski). Even The Wall Street Journal acknowledged, "the same military accused of atrocities against the rebel movement and local population provides Mobil with security services" (Solomon 2000).

The "rebel" threat is better known as the Free Aceh Movement. On the rare occasion western journalists do mention this group, they are usually characterized as a group of separatist "rebel guerrillas" whose cause for rebellion is the creation of an Islamic state. This despite the fact that many Christians and Buddhists live in the region, and are active in the liberation movement. Some of the "rebels" are displaced farmers whose land has been seized by the Indonesian military and police to enlarge Exxon-Mobil's $1.7 billion annual drilling operations. Some are fishermen whose waters are now so polluted by the excavation projects, they can no longer fish in their traditional oceans. Some have suffered at the hands of "security forces," who are responsible for the deaths of more than 1,000 of their fellow citizens this year alone, not counting the thousands more that have died in the past decade (Amnesty International 2000). Some are the sons and daughters of the thousand or so "disappeared" - a term which is sure to resonate with Argentinean ire. According to the U.S. State Department, "security forces were responsible for numerous instances of, at times indiscriminate, shooting of civilians, torture, rape, beatings and other abuse, and arbitrary detention in Aceh" (U.S. Department of State, 2001)

Contrary to the well-intentioned United States' Leahy Amendment, an evolving law that prohibits US military appropriations and financial assistance to countries with known human rights abuses, Exxon-Mobil continues, with complete immunity, to negotiate directly with the Indonesian military and local police. As several lone voices in America often point out, the intervention of American corporations with the Indonesian government is in direct conflict with the stated U.S. Foreign Policy priorities of respect for the rule of law and human rights, and the promotion of stability and a free market economy (Jereski 2001). The region of Aceh is hardly stable, nor is its economy very free. In March of 2001, Exxon-Mobil temporarily suspended its operations due to a "rebel" uprising, sending Jakarta's stock market plummeting downward 4.22% in a single day. Not surprisingly, the uprising was met with an increase in military and police operations.

Although the United States Congressional Record (translated loosely by some to mean, The Rule of Law) prohibits "U.S. military assistance to foreign military units that violate human rights with impunity," the green ink stained fingers of many members of Congress are used to cover their eyes in the case of Exxon-Mobil. Reminiscent of the tobacco cases in America, the UNOCAL lawsuits in Burma, and the Chevron lawsuits in Nigeria, the International Labor Rights Fund recently filed a lawsuit against Exxon-Mobil on behalf of eleven citizens of Aceh. Using the Alien Tort Claims Act, an act dating back to the late 1700s allowing citizens of other countries to sue in America for human rights abuses, the Aceheans are suing Exxon-Mobil for damages inflicted on their people. As expected Exxon-Mobil contends "our company rejects and categorically denies any suggestion or implication that it or its affiliate companies were in any way involved with alleged human rights abuses by security forces in Aceh" (Banerjee 2001).

But why would American politicians extend the-benefit-of-the-doubt to oil and energy interests in this country? With the recent mergers of Exxon and Mobil in 1999, and Chevron and Texaco in 2000, the world has witnessed the greatest consolidation of oil and energy money in its history - consolidations which may remind one of the Robber Baron tactics in early 1900s. Along with the usual results accompaning mergers and business consolidations, they also allow the consolidation an even larger amount to spend on the campaigns of sympathetic politicians. Is anyone really shocked to discover that, since 1992, Halliburton, the world's largest oil-services industry, donated $16.2 billion to congressional campaigns? And why would several executive administrations look the other way? Could it possibly be related to the $2.8 billion dollars of oil and energy money given to politician's (both Democrats and Republicans) election campaigns during the 2000 election cycle, $1.2 million of which came from Exxon-Mobil?

Indeed it is strange when politicians who are obsessed with Homeland Security appear content to shake the blood stained hands of corporations known by many Indonesians as domestic terrorists. Think of it: a new company moves to your already impoverished town bringing low level, high manual labor, a sizable police force, while systematically relocating people at corporate will. And if that is not reason enough to dislike them, they also provide torture camps such as Kopassus, Kreung Geukeuh, and many more, which are located on or near the Exxon-Mobil facilities (Amnesty International 1993). We as a society seem to be in a precarious moment vis-à-vis our understanding of terror. One wonders whether Americans are willing to extend their genuine outpourings of kindness, grief and compasion expressed for the victims of terrorism in America toward the equally precious lives of peoples across the globe. Will religious groups ever direct their domesticated moral indignation toward the people responsible for the destruction of the earth, families, and indigenous peoples' lives? Or will they just continue to send their sons and daughters on "witnessing tours" to these forgotten regions, attempting to convince the "peasants" a better life is waiting for them on the other side? One wonders how long we can drape ourselves in the siren-song of patriotism, and meanwhile neglect the ethically caustic, environmentally damaging, and economically costly pursuits of a few?

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As I came to find out several days later, Bobbie had a child with an Australian tourist. They spent several months together and fell in love, before she returned to Australia for its birth. He hadn't seen her since the departure several months earlier. I thought about this woman and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their relationship. Bobbie seemed genuinely upset about her leaving; he wanted to raise the child and have a say in its life. It was his first child and, in his mind, was an important part of his traditional lineage. But, she refused to come back. He did not have a passport, visa, money nor a credit card, so he could not just hop on a plane to go see her and their child. Whatever her reasons might have been, she didn't want to see him any longer.

I found Bobbie's situation curious for several reasons. I began to wonder about her motivations. Did she travel to Indonesia to have the baby of a man she'd never have to see again? Although unlikely, I pondered it as a distinct possibility. Many people are attracted to this region's resources. Whether it's sperm or oil, does it really matter? At the end of the day, isn't it really just the same? While we might actually have benign intentions, doesn't the act of intervening in someone's world necessarily bring many unintended consequences? To me it seemed as if Bobbie's reality had been molded and formed by the unintended consequences of many possibly well-intentioned people. As I thought about this possibility, I felt mild shame for my own presence in his country.

I have always liked to think of myself as a traveler, not a tourist. A traveler, although not always successful, attempts to minimize the unintended consequences, while a tourist isn't even aware of the distinction. A traveler craves to learn the pulse of a city, a country, and its people; a traveler is in tune with and open to the vibrations that flow from it; a traveler likes to absorb and experience the flow of a particular culture. Enjoy its chaos. My personal vision of this sentiment usually leads me to imagine someone from this city - someone who grew up in it, and was formed by its imaginary walls. She has long left the location, but when she thinks back on it, she misses something. I am always looking for the something. Of course, the possibilties of the something are truly infinite. Multiple perceptions of the same city can indeed produce diverse memories. Either way, I guess I have always been fascinated by other peoples' stories, self-contradictions, sufferings, and especially their understanding of joy and pleasure. While each traveler's purpose may be rooted in their own Herodotean desires, most like to listen and learn, and consider listening and asking questions a much milder impact on the earth.

As a traveler in someone's country, I always take seriously the rule: "leave no trace." It is really such a simple rule, but possibly the most important. To me this rule stands as the hyperbolic contrast of the Western ideals of legacy, and raises doubts about the world's architectural temples named for famous donors. To me it implies an acknowledgement of passivity, of obscurity, of breathing deeply and treading lightly. Hopefully even, responsibly. Over the years this idea has crystallized in my mind as I have watched, listened to, and read travel stories. It is something I believe any true traveler takes seriously. And, while it is this notion that allows me to justify my own wanderings, it does not insulate me from feeling mild shame from time to time.

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The flow of the Indonesian traffic is similar to the traffic flow throughout South-East Asia. There are no marked lanes on the road per say. Instead, cars, vans, and buses drive down the center of the road and veer to the right when approaching an oncoming vehicle. This passing maneuver requires precise concentration on the driver's part, as the vehicles pass within inches of each other. Drivers in these countries have keen senses and use their utmost concentration while navigating roads. There is no idle chitchat with these drivers, and certainly no cell-phone conversations, nor cosmetic fixes during a ride. In Vietnam, an American tourist told us of a recent collision of two buses attempting this passing maneuver. The rear end of one bus was torn open like a cliché can of sardines, and bloody passengers lay strewn across the shards of torn metal and broken glass. He had taken pictures of it with his digital camera: body parts, torn metal, and settling dust filled the grainy images located on the back of his camera. He offered us the advice to always ride on the right hand side of a bus. That way, at least, the column of people on the left side will provide some buffer from the impact of a collision. A distinct coldness blew across my skin as I pondered his well-intentioned suggestion.

At one point in the ride, after turning one of the many stomach-tightening blind-corners, we were stopped at a police roadblock. The driver steered the mini-van to the embankment, stopped, while a heavily armed police officer surveyed the van and its occupants.

"He has Westerners," Bobbie said in a hushed, but relaxed tone. "He's going to charge more."

The officer motioned the driver out of the van and they walked to the rear. After a brief exchange of words, he handed the officer a bundle of bills, placing them in his brown leather gloved hand. The driver then walked back to his seat, started the van, and began maneuvering onto the dirt road. Because the driver had westerners, the officer assumed (correctly!) that we paid more for our tickets than the other people in the van. He therefore had to readjust the price of the "toll."

The security forces in this region are engaged in a crude form of a service economy. According Jereski (2001), the services provided by these military and paramilitary organizations include "providing protection, extortion, drug-running, illegal timber harvesting, illegal fishing, illegal mining, and prostitution." While such a description may translate to some as the makings of a "really cool" action or mobster movie, Jereski warns,

"As a result of this competition, the military and police, often in collusion with civilian government officials, have generated violent disturbances to justify military or police "solutions" to non-existent threats…The International Crisis Group reported in September 2000, that "(i)t is often claimed that military units exploit the opportunities available in disturbed regions, to supplement their incomes, especially by offering protection services" (International Crisis Group 2000).

All of this amounts to a security force paid to protect Exxon-Mobil and its interests, but instead tortures and aggravates the citizens, which ensures there is something from which Exxon-Mobil needs to be protected. In some sense, the Aceh experience illuminates a very basic bureaucratic/economic idea - if you have an overabundance (i.e., supply) of police, either they lose their jobs, which tends to irritate people with guns and frighten those in power, or you must create reasons (i.e., demand) for their further existence. A slow-down in the economic cycle, according to this model, means the citizens of Aceh get treated to schoolyard bully tactics. The main difference, of course, being these bullies carry and use knives, rifles, and even boiling pots of water (Murdoch 2001). While the police must seek out resistors to accuse, they must also monitor the roads to ensure the police force benefits economically from the comings and goings of its citizens and tourists. At every step in the process, the security forces create a demand for their presence by diversion and decoy: create a problem, or at least the appearance of a problem, to ensure a demand for services. No wonder some "restless soldiers shot at and hit a commuter plane chartered by Exxon-Mobil" and then blamed it on the Free Aceh Movement "rebels" (Associated Press 2000).

The rule on these roads is actually quite simple. You pay the toll and they let you pass. The logical implication of the rule, however, suggests peace can be maintained at a relatively low cost. As long as you do not argue with the police, they will let you pass with only a supplemental tax payment. Resistance in these situations is a hollow word.

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About an hour after the police roadblock, we came across two columns of what appeared to be the National Indonesian Army (TNI). They marched along both sides of the road, wearing loosely fitting tan uniforms, black boots, and carrying American made, M-16 rifles. They looked like a class of kindergarten children clutching an imaginary rope, venturing off on a near-by field trip. As we passed the first of the 200 men, I would later swear that he looked me straight in the eyes and began laughing. I am certain, however, that he raised his rifle to point it at the vehicle. At me.

The next few seconds flew by in a series of random strobe-light flashes. My knuckles clenched the sun burnt skin on my legs, as my blood began pulsing to the beat of a high-end, electronic snare drum. The soldier raised his rifle slightly upward, pointing it just above the thin glass window that separated us from each other. He pulled the trigger several times. The other soldiers, not really startled by the loud pops, turned raising their own rifles and joined in the military display of power. They casually fired over the mini-van at an imaginary target located somewhere in the sky.

"Just one bullet," I thought.

I pictured the cold steel of an American made M-16 bullet entering my face, and exiting the back of my head. I thought of the subtle irony. I wondered if our friends and family would ever know what had taken place. Would our bodies even be recovered or would they just rot away in a nearby ditch? There are a number of mass graves in this region and, according to some reports, most have not yet been discovered. In August of 2001, 48 bodies were recovered from a newly discovered mass grave, and 31 more were found along the side of the road (Associated Press 2001). In fact, according to the International Labor Rights lawsuit, Exxon-Mobil drilling equipment was even used to dig the mass graves. According to BusinessWeek, a former Mobil employee claimed, "rumors of massacres and of reports that Mobil equipment was being used to dig graves were frequently discussed at workplaces and in a company cafeteria"(Shari, Engardio, and Prasso 1998). Were we to become part of the thousand or so "disappeared?" Shot by an American bullet, fired by an employee of the Exxon-Mobil Security Force, and then tossed in a mass grave, which was dug by an American owned machine?

Breathing short breaths, I glanced over at Sharon's startled body. Like most people, Sharon is able to disassociate herself from chaotic moments, but the sound of gunfire exploded like an alarm clock in her ears, violently waking her from the sleep sitting position. Her head jolted out of unconsciousness and I caught Bobbie's face, looking at us and gently smiling. He reassured us that everything was OK; he was well acquainted with the violent display, and he spoke to us in a tone of someone asking whether we liked the spicy local dish, and not a military weapons display.

He proceeded to assure us that the bullets were not intended for the westerners in the van. Rather they were for the locals: the couple crammed between the sliding door and first row of seats; the man lodged between the hatch door and back seat. All of us were the intended recipients of this display. In fact, Bobbie explained, these displays of power are just part of the multi-ring circus that is a military regime. While citizens of democratic regimes must contend with and ultimately adapt to forms of "soft-repression," citizens of military regimes just get used to being harrassed and fired at by soldiers along the road. It is to remind us who is in power and that the uncomfortable position in life is really not that bad compared to the potential destruction that lies outside our present condition. The military uses these displays throughout the region to encourage rethinking claims of independence from Indonesia. It is to remind them of the stories they've heard about East Timor, West Papau, Borneo, and all the other Indonesian places where indigenous people seek the right of self-determination. That is who the shots were meant to stupefy and satisfy.

Like children unlocking a secret power to make another child feel threatened, the sound of sporadic machine gun fire was replaced by the soldiers' laughter as we lurched past the last man in the military column. Perhaps it is a primitive desire - the desire to demonstrate our power over another. We learn it as babies when we discover our parents' reactions to our sobs and tears. Some continue to do it with their voices or physical presence, while others devolve with the use of weapons. It is the kind of laughter that builds from the belly and mixes with the joy of one's realization of domination over another. It is the laughter of the oppressed, feeling, while only momentarily, the happiness and self-deluded power of the oppressor.

We parody this form of laughter in the western world. It is mocked and made the object of humor in classics such as Austin Powers' arch nemesis, Dr. Evil. In essence, we laugh away the possibility that people might actually want to control entire populations. While these comedic characters have a face and a name in Hollywood's version (not to mention the action dolls, which endear us even more to their likeable images), the many others who tragically do possess this desire, slip past our dimly lit radar screens. Perhaps the soldiers are not necessarily the problem, nor are we the audiences that spend $9.50 for two hours of entertainment - we are all just the associates and benefactors of a large commercial experiment called A Strong Economy. Or, perhaps our present humanity is just too overwhelmed with the growing anxieties caused by the disparity between current and living wages, or with the unsettling feelings accompanying the inadequate health-care coverage of the next generation. Or, maybe the economically well-off would rather keep their eyes on the-portfolio-prize than worry about the types of investments for which their mutual funds and retirement packages are being used. Whatever the reason, we choose to laugh. Just as the soldiers laughed at a passing mini-van on a jungle road, we all laugh, like a chorus of cicadas who cannot even grasp the extent of our own voluntary enslavement. 

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For years western journalists were restricted in their visits to Aceh. Compared to what we learned from the mainstream media about East Timor, its coverage is practically non-existent. Over the years, several international organizations have brought attention to the problem, but must compete against many other bloody manifestations of military and corporate violence throughout the world. In July 2001, Megawati Sukarnoputri, the eldest daughter of Indonesia's first leader, Sukarno, took control of the Indonesian government from the ousted President Wahid. While her priorities as president have never been formally announced, the fact that Exxon-Mobil provides Indonesia's debt-ridden economy with about $1 billion annually is bound to make her seriously consider the costs and benefits of her options. In late August of 2001, Megawati announced an increase in the government's security forces in Aceh. In the more cynical receptors of my brain, I can't help but think these actions might have aided Exxon-Mobil's recent decision to resume "business as usual" in its highly profitable Acehean operations.

As seems to be the case in life, it is sometimes necessary to hide one's eyes from all the competing flares of distress. One wonders, however, how long it will take humanity's collective wisdom to grasp the extent of our global-cancer. Until then we will continue to watch the unfolding history of terrorism here, genocide there, and humanitarian missions where? while all the time scratching our heads, wondering why the public is numb to such cries, and many Americans are so easily shocked to learn that people in the world really do hate us.

Upon arriving in the village and finding accommodation, we wandered into a small bamboo hut, from which Bob Marley tunes blared out the speakers of a decrepit boom-box. As I ate a mushroom omelet and drank a glass of beer, my mind began to float among the Sumatran images strangely resembling The Land of Look Behind.

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Michael Ault is an Assistant Professor of Political Science at California State University, Bakersfield.

Sources

"The Conflict in Aceh, and U.S. Interests in Promoting A Free Market, Stability and Human Rights in South East Asia," Robert Jereski, Executive Director of the International Forum for Aceh, Washington, D.C. June 25, 2001

"Mobil Sees Its Gas Plant Become Rallying Point for Indonesian Rebels," Jay Solomon, Wall Street Journal, September 7, 2000

"Indonesian Rebels Set Their Sights on Mobil Plant," Jay Solomon, The Asian Wall Street Journal, September 8, 2000.

"Indonesia: Aid Workers Executed in Aceh", Joint Statement by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, New York, December 8, 2000

"Department of State Human Rights Reports for 2000," U.S. Department of State, 2001.

"Lawsuit Says Exxon Aided Rights Abuses," Neela Banerjee, New York Times, June 21, 2001.

"Shock Therapy" Restoring Order in Aceh, 1989-1993, Amnesty International, August 2, 1993.

"Indonesia: Keeping the Military Under Control," ICG Asia Report #9, International Crisis Group, Banda Aceh/Jakarta/Brussels, 7 December, 2000.

"The horror of Aceh, the day the soldiers came", Lindsay Murdoch, theage.com.au, May 14, 2001.

"Soldiers Fire at US Chartered Plane", Associated Press, December 18, 2000.

"12 Killed in Latest Indonesia Violence," Associated Press, August 27, 2001.

"What Did Mobil Know?", Michael Shari, Pete Engardio, and Sheri Prasso, BusinessWeek, December 28, 1998.

Additional Resources

Down-to-Earth Newsletter, Down to Earth, February, 2001.

The Roots of Acehnese Rebellion - 1989-1992, Tim Kell, Cornell University, 1995.

"Indonesia Sends Troops To Aceh To Defend US Co's Facilities", Associated Press, March 17, 2001.

"Soldiers Bash Reporters In Strife-Torn Province," Lindsay Murdoch and agencies, Sydney Morning Herald, May 15, 2001.

"Indonesia Complex Emergency Situation Report #1 (FY) 2001," United States Agency for International Development, May 15, 2001.

"Fresh Bout of Violence Kills Three in Aceh", The Jakarta Post, May 6, 2001.

"Indonesia Troops 'Fired Blindly' At Aceh Children - Witness", Associated Press, April 18, 2001.

"When Big Oil Gets Too Slick," Mike France, BusinessWeek, April 9, 2001.

"Human Rights Watch World Report 2001: Indonesia chapter," Human Rights Watch World Report 2001.

"Indonesia: More Murders of Human Rights Monitors in Aceh," Human Rights Watch, New York, March 30, 2001.

"Mobil Operations In Sumatra (Indonesia) Investigated As Villagers Sue," Drillbits & Tailings, December 21, 1998.

"Mobil Oil Aceh Is Being Sued By Human Rights Group 'Ghost from the Past'," Christopher Torchia, Associated Press , December 24, 1998.

"ExxonMobil's Gas Shutdown in Aceh Shows Unrest's Cost," Michael Schuman and Thaddeus Herrick, The Asian Wall Street Journal, April 3, 2001.

"Indonesia Blames ExxonMobil For Stopping Aceh Ops Tom Wright," Dow Jones Newswires, March 23, 2001.