Local Politics in Indonesia

Competitive elections have become an institutionalized feature of contemporaryIndonesia’s politics. This, together with other considerations, makes it reasonableto call Indonesia the world’s third largest democracy. Nonetheless, democraticelections in Indonesia are both more complex and interesting than is commonlyunderstood. This book explores how local elections in Indonesia have affected thedevelopment and dynamics of Indonesia’s fledgling democracy. Based on fine-grained analyses of elections in five localities, the book shows how Indonesia’stransition to direct elections of local government executives has transformed partypolitics and elite development at local levels of governance.

Employing the methods of political anthropology and informed by a criticalreading of theories of democracy and decentralization, the book presents detailedanalyses of elections in five localities across four Indonesian provinces. The bookcalls attention to the ambiguous relation between formal democratic reforms andpolitical behavior. It illustrates how local elite politics has evolved within thecontext of political and administrative reforms, whose announced goals are toimprove the representativeness and responsiveness of political institutions. Thisbook provides a window onto local political processes that will be of interest tostudents and scholars of politics in Southeast Asia and beyond.

Nankyung Choi is a Visiting Assistant Professor in the Department of Asian andInternational Studies, City University of Hong Kong.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series

1 Land Tenure, Conservation and Development in Southeast AsiaPeter Eaton

2 The Politics of Indonesia–Malaysia RelationsOne kin, two nationsJoseph Chinyong Liow

3 Governance and Civil Society in MyanmarEducation, health and environmentHelen James

4 Regionalism in Post-Suharto IndonesiaEdited by Maribeth Erb, Priyambudi Sulistiyanto and Carole Faucher

5 Living with Transition in LaosMarket integration in Southeast AsiaJonathan Rigg

6 Christianity, Islam and Nationalism in IndonesiaCharles E. Farhadian

7 Violent Conflicts in IndonesiaAnalysis, representation, resolutionEdited by Charles A. Coppel

8 Revolution, Reform and Regionalism in Southeast AsiaCambodia, Laos and VietnamRonald Bruce St John

9 The Politics of Tyranny in Singapore and BurmaAristotle and the rhetoric of benevolent despotismStephen McCarthy

10 Ageing in SingaporeService needs and the statePeggy Teo, Kalyani Mehta, Leng Leng Thang and Angelique Chan

11 Security and Sustainable Development in MyanmarHelen James

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

12 Expressions of CambodiaThe politics of tradition, identity and changeEdited by Leakthina Chau-Pech Ollier and Tim Winter

13 Financial Fragility and Instability in IndonesiaYasuyuki Matsumoto

14 The Revival of Tradition in Indonesian PoliticsThe deployment of adat from colonialism to indigenismEdited by Jamie S. Davidson and David Henley

15 Communal Violence and Democratization in IndonesiaSmall town warsGerry van Klinken

16 Singapore in the Global SystemRelationship, structure and changePeter Preston

17 Chinese Big Business in IndonesiaThe state of the capitalChristian Chua

18 Ethno-religious Violence in IndonesiaFrom soil to GodChris Wilson

19 Ethnic Politics in BurmaStates of conflictAshley South

20 Democratization in Post-Suharto IndonesiaEdited by Marco Bünte and Andreas Ufen

21 Party Politics and Democratization in IndonesiaGolkar in the post-Suharto eraDirk Tomsa

22 Community, Environment and Local Governance in IndonesiaLocating the commonwealEdited by Carol Warren and John F. McCarthy

23 Rebellion and Reform in IndonesiaJakarta’s security and autonomy polices in AcehMichelle Ann Miller

24 Hadrami Arabs in Present-day IndonesiaAn Indonesia-oriented group with an Arab signatureFrode F. Jacobsen

25 Vietnam’s Political ProcessHow education shapes political decision makingCasey Lucius

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

26 Muslims in SingaporePiety, politics and policiesKamaludeen Mohamed Nasir, Alexius A. Pereira and Bryan S. Turner

27 Timor LestePolitics, history and cultureAndrea Katalin Molnar

28 Gender and Transitional JusticeThe women of East TimorSusan Harris Rimmer

29 Environmental Cooperation in Southeast AsiaASEAN’s regime for trans-boundary haze pollutionParuedee Nguitragool

30 The Theatre and the State in SingaporeTerence Chong

31 Ending Forced Labour in MyanmarEngaging a pariah regimeRichard Horsey

32 Security, Development and Nation-Building in Timor-LesteA cross-sectoral assessmentEdited by Vandra Harris and Andrew Goldsmith

33 The Politics of Religion in IndonesiaSyncretism, orthodoxy, and religious contention in Java and BaliEdited by Michel Picard and Remy Madinier

34 Singapore’s Ageing PopulationManaging healthcare and end of life decisionsEdited by Wing-Cheong Chan

35 Changing Marriage Patterns in Southeast AsiaEconomic and socio-cultural dimensionsEdited by Gavin W. Jones, Terence H. Hull and Maznah Mohamad

36 The Political Resurgence of the Military in Southeast AsiaConflict and leadershipEdited by Marcus Mietzner

37 Neoliberal Morality in SingaporeHow family policies make state and societyYouyenn Teo

38 Local Politics in IndonesiaPathways to powerNankyung Choi

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Local Politics in IndonesiaPathways to power

Nankyung Choi

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

First published 2011by Routledge2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

Simultaneously published in the USA and Canadaby Routledge711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2011 Nankyung Choi

The right of Nankyung Choi to be identified as author of this work has beenasserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright,Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced orutilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, nowknown or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in anyinformation storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing fromthe publishers.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks orregistered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanationwithout intent to infringe.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication DataChoi, Nankyung.

Local politics in Indonesia: pathways to power/Nankyung Choi.p. cm.—(Routledge contemporary Southeast Asia series; 38)

Includes bibliographical references and index.1. Local elections—Indonesia. 2. Indonesia—Politics and government—1998. I. Title.JS7197.3.C46 2011320.809598—dc22 2011007008

ISBN: 978–0–415–61731–4 (hbk)ISBN: 978–0–203–80559–6 (ebk)

Typeset in Times New Romanby Swales & Willis, Exeter, Devon

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

For Jonathan, Jesse and Anna

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Contents

List of illustrations xList of abbreviations xiiAcknowledgments xv

Introduction: decentralizing democracy? 1

1 Democracy and local power struggle 19

2 Winning mayorship by 21 votes: Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 33

3 The rise of local elites, with money and sosok: the Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 51

4 Oligarchic and paralyzed political parties: Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 62

5 The reassertion of patrimonial politics: Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 77

Conclusion: political change and pathways to power 102

Notes 109Bibliography 129Index 139

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Illustrations

Map

Indonesia map xvii

Figure

2.1 Organizational structure of political parties 35

Tables

1.1 Electoral system of Indonesia’s direct elections of local government heads 31

2.1 Timetable of the 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election 402.2 Party fraksi in the Yogyakarta municipal assembly (1999–2004) 412.3 Candidates nominated by party fraksi 422.4 Candidates selected by the Election Committee 432.5 Results of Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 463.1 Parties at the Riau Archipelago provincial assembly (2004–9) 543.2 Candidates and party coalitions in the Riau Archipelago’s 2005

gubernatorial election 543.3 Results of the Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 583.4 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election results

compared with the provincial-level results of the 2004 legislative election 59

4.1 Composition of parties in the Batam municipal assembly (2004–9) 66

4.2 Candidates and party coalitions in the 2006 Batam mayoral election 66

4.3 Results of Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 734.4 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election results compared with the

municipal-level results of the 2004 legislative election 735.1 Party composition in the Depok municipal assembly (2004–9) 81

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

5.2 Candidates and supporting parties in Depok’s 2005 mayoral election 82

5.3 Election results of Depok’s Election Commission and the West Java High Court 84

5.4 Party composition in the Banyuwangi district assembly (2004–9) 90

5.5 Candidates and supporting parties in Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election 93

5.6 Results of Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election 96

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Illustrations xi

Abbreviations

Bawaslu Badan Pengawas Pemilu (Election Supervisory Board)BIDA Batam Industrial Development AuthorityBPK Badan Pemeriksa Keuangan (State Audit Board)CESDA Center for the Study of Development and DemocracyCetro Centre for Electoral ReformCPS-SSS Centre for Political Study-Soegeng Sarjadi SyndicateCSIS Center for Strategic and International StudiesDPC Dewan Pimpinan Cabang (sub-district leadership board of

parties, district board in the case of the PDI-P)DPD Dewan Perwakilan Daerah (Regional Representative Assembly)DPD Dewan Pimpinan Daerah (district leadership board of parties,

provincial board in the case of the PDI-P)DPP Dewan Pimpinan Pusat (central leadership board of parties)DPR Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (People’s Representative Assembly)DPRD Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (Regional People’s

Representative Assembly)FAN Fraksi Amanat National (National Mandate Party’s

representation unit in the assembly)FKDK Fraksi Kebangkitan Demokrasi & Keadilan (Democracy and

Justice Awakening Coalition’s representation unit in theassembly)

FPDI-P Fraksi Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (IndonesianDemocracy Party of Struggle’s representation unit in theassembly)

FPG Fraksi Partai Golkar (Golkar Party’s representation unit in theassembly)

FPI Fraksi Persatuan Islam (Islamic Unity Coalition’s representationunit in the assembly)

FTZ free trade zoneGMNI Gerakan Mahasiswa Nasional Indonesia (Indonesian Students’

National Movement)HIPMI Himpunan Pengusaha Muda Indonesia (Association of

Indonesian Young Businessmen)

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

ICW Indonesian Corruption WatchIPNU Ikatan Pemuda Nahdlatul Ulama (Nahdlatul Ulama Student

Association)IWAPI Ikatan Wanita Pengusaha Indonesia (Association of Indonesian

Business Women)Jamppi Jaringan Masyarakat Pemantau Pemilu Indonesia (People’s

Network for Elections Monitoring)JPPR Jaringan Pendidikan Pemilih untuk Rakyat (People’s Network

for Voter Education)Kadinda Kamar Dagang dan Industri Daerah (Regional Chamber of

Commerce and Industry)Korpri Korps Pegawai Republik Indonesia (Public Servant Corps)KPU Komisi Pemilihan Umum (General Election Commission)KPUD Komisi Pemilihan Umum Daerah (local branch of the General

Election Commission)LGSP Local Governance Support ProgramLIPI Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia (Indonesian Institute of

Sciences)LP3ES Lembaga Penelitian, Pendidikan, dan Penerangan Ekonomi dan

Sosial (Institute for Economic and Social Research, Education,and Information)

LPH Lembaga Pembela Hukum (Institute for Legal Protection)LSI Lingkaran Survei Indonesia (Indonesian Survey Circle)Marhaenisme Marhaenism Indonesian National PartyMPR Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (People’s Consultative

Assembly)NGO non-governmental organizationNU Nahdlatul Ulama (traditional Islamic organization)PAC Pengurus Anak Cabang (Sub-District Leadership Board of the

PDI-P)PAN Partai Amanat Nasional (National Mandate Party)ParWI Parliament Watch IndonesiaPBB Partai Bulan Bintang (Crescent Star Party)PBR Partai Bintang Reformasi (Reform Star Party)PBSD Partai Buruh Sosial Demokrat (Socialist Democratic Labor

Party)PD Partai Demokrat (Democrat Party)PDI-P Partai Demokrasi Indonesia-Perjuangan (Indonesian

Democracy Party of Struggle)PDKB Partai Demokrasi Kasih Bangsa (National Love Democracy

Party)PDS Partai Damai Sejahtera (Prosperous Peace Party)PK Partai Keadilan (Justice Party)PKB Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (National Awakening Party)PKI Partai Komunis Indonesia (Indonesian Communist Party)

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Abbreviations xiii

PKNU Partai Kebangkitan Nasional Ulama (National UlamaAwakening Party)

PKP Partai Keadilan dan Persatuan (Justice and Unity Party)PKPB Partai Karya Peduli Bangsa (Concern for the National

Functional Party)PKPI Partai Keadilan dan Persatuan Indonesia (Indonesian Justice

and Unity Party)PKS Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (Prosperous Justice Party) PNBK Partai Nasional Banteng Kemerdekaan (Freedom Bull National

Party)Polri Kepolisian Negara Republik Indonesia (Indonesian National

Police)PP Peraturan Pemerintah (Government Regulation)PPD Partai Persatuan Daerah (Regional United Party)PPDI Partai Penegak Demokrasi Indonesia (Indonesian Democratic

Vanguard Party)PPDK Partai Persatuan Demokrasi Kebangsaan (United Democratic

Nationhood Party)PPIB Partai Perhimpunan Indonesia Baru (New Indonesia Alliance

Party)PPK Panitia Pemilu Kacamatan (Sub-district Election Commission)PPNUI Partai Persatuan Nahdlatul Ummah Indonesia (Indonesian

Nahdlatul Community Party)PPP Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (United Development Party)PSI Partai Sarikat Indonesia (Indonesian Unity Party)PTUN Pengadilan Tata Usaha Negara (State Administrative Court)TNI Tentara Nasional Indonesia (Indonesian National Army)UNDP United Nations Development ProgrammeUSAID United States Agency for International DevelopmentYappika Aliansi Masyarakat Sipil Indonesia untuk Demokrasi (Civil Society

Alliance for Democracy) (formerly known as Yayasan PenguatanPartisipasi, Inisiatif dan Kemitraan Masyarakat Indonesia)

YLBHI Yayasan Lembaga Bantuan Hukum Indonesia (Foundation ofIndonesian Legal Aid Institute)

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

xiv Abbreviations

Acknowledgments

This book has benefited from the feedback and support of many people. I wouldlike to express special thanks to Harold Crouch for his mentoring and for thecontinuous support he has given me for more than a decade. Harold read numerousunorganized drafts, showed me the subtleties of language and argument and allowedme to benefit from his unique insights. I also would like to thank Ben Kerkvlietand Greg Fealy, who have provided continuous assistance and encouragementduring and since the completion of my Ph.D. study at the Australian NationalUniversity. My colleagues at the Rajaratnam School of International Studies inSingapore and at the Southeast Asia Research Centre and the Department of Asianand International Studies of the City University of Hong Kong have given meindispensible encouragement and generous support. At Rajaratnam, I give particularthanks to Ambassador Barry Desker and Leonard C. Sebastian, who providedinvaluable support when I designed and conducted fieldwork during my stay andwork in Singapore. At CityU, I would like to give particular thanks to Grame Lange,William C. Case and Martin Painter for allowing me to focus on the completionof this long project. I am grateful to all who have read, commented on andstrengthened my work.

I am also indebted to many Indonesian friends and interviewees for their patienceand help, information and encouragement over the course of working on this project.I would particularly like to thank Yaury G.P. Tatanel of ParWI, Putut Ariyo Tejoof Batam Pos and Sunarlan of Jepara University for their invaluable assistanceand input during my field research in Yogyakarta, Batam and Banyuwangi. I wouldalso like to extend my gratitude to all the candidates, field campaigners, partyfunctionaries, election commissioners, government officials, assembly members,scholars and ordinary voters for permitting me to interview them for the purposesof this project. I am especially grateful to locally based non-governmental organiza-tion activists and journalists for allowing me to participate in numerous conver-sations and discussions, and allowing me to access their unofficial documents,which provided me with invaluable information.

My experiences with Indonesia’s local politics began in July 1997 when Iobserved campaign convoys, which marked Soeharto’s last holding of thedemocracy festival (pesta demokrasi), in Yogyakarta. In May 1998, I observed andshared the anger, frustration and excitement of young and old Indonesians on the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

streets of Yogyakarta. When I went back to Yogyakarta in 2000 to see how thedemocratic transition had changed local political institutions and daily politicalpractices, I sensed a growing public disillusionment about the persistent informal,often undemocratic, practices among their representatives. I realized that there weregaps of perceptions between ordinary Indonesians and political observers—bothdomestic and international—about formal political change and its practical effecton the day-to-day politics. The first direct presidential election in 2004 seemed torevive popular enthusiasm and anticipation for better leadership and betterelite–grassroots relationships. By contrast, a lesser degree of excitement was sensedduring the following year’s direct elections of local government heads. I foundparticularly intriguing that local power contests became increasingly fierce,extremely expensive and less transparent. By looking into different election casesin different parts of the country, I have gained critical experience of studying andmaking sense of the processes and outcomes of multidimensional political andsocial change.

On a personal note, I am deeply grateful to my parents and sisters for theirincessant support for my decision to pursue study and work overseas. I also givespecial thanks to my extended families, who have added immensely to my life.Finally, I express indescribable thanks and love to my husband, Jonathan, for hiscritical editorial feedback and devoted support, and to my children, Jesse and Anna,for bringing me tremendous joy and profound happiness.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

xvi Acknowledgments

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

IntroductionDecentralizing democracy?

Since the collapse of Soeharto’s New Order in 1998, Indonesia has experiencedrapid and fundamental changes in its political institutions. Simultaneous processesof democratic and administrative reforms have transformed the country’s oncecentralized and authoritarian polity into a more democratic and decentralized one.At the core of democratic reforms has been the introduction of competitive elections.Indonesia has successfully staged three general elections (in 1999, 2004 and 2009)as well as two direct presidential elections (in 2004 and 2009). Administrativedecentralization has also been a key dimension of political change, arguably noless important than the democratic reforms themselves. Successive governmentshave adopted sweeping decentralization measures that have devolved a wide rangeof power and authority to local units of government. The switch in 2005 fromindirect to direct elections of local government heads—i.e., provincial governors,district regents and municipal mayors—suggests that after only a decade of reformelections and decentralized governance have become a deeply embedded featureof Indonesia’s political system.

Normative theories of democracy and public administration assume thatdemocratic elections and decentralized governance promote the consolidation ofdemocratic institutions. Yet a widely cited shortcoming of democracy studies isthat they often fail to follow up on the democratic quality or performance ofdemocratic institutions after the transitional phase of emergence or restoration of democracy (Landman 2007, 11; Carothers 2007, 24). This is particularlytroubling given evidence from the third or fourth wave of democratization thatexhibits significant gaps between the formal institutions of democracy and thesubstantive degree of democratic change. Nonetheless, for a variety of reasons,international organizations have continued to focus on simple criteria rather thancomplicated and context-specific information that reflect realities on the ground(Landman 2007, 17).1

The association of elections and decentralization with democratic consolidationis highly problematic for evidence shows that there is no inherent relationshipamong them. Often missing from conventional assumptions is the question ofrepresentation—i.e., who is selected to represent, whose interests are representedand how accountable is representation itself. This book examines elections andtheir impact on democratic development in Indonesia’s localities. It scrutinizes

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

the processes and outcomes of local elections and their impact on the country’songoing political and social transformation.

Two assumptions inform this book’s focus on local elections. The first one isthat local politics—their institutions, processes and outcomes—are the micro-foundations of national politics. Local political processes not only reflectmeaningful achievements of democratic reforms, but also reveal their unintendedeffects. A focus on local politics sheds light on local “dynamics of democratisation,”and how local actors, individually or collectively, develop or undermine democraticprinciples and institutions (Harriss, Stokke and Törnquist 2004, 6 and 16). Byanalyzing local political developments, we can focus on substantively—rather thanformally—institutionalized patterns of political practices, the character of mutuallyconstitutive state–society relations and leadership development in day-to-daypolitics.2

Second, this book is premised on an understanding of democracy—both at thenational and local level—that emphasizes competitive struggle among politicalelites, for the “irony of democracy” is that while it is government by the people,its survival “rests on the shoulders of elites” (Dye and Zeigler 1997, 153). Inpractice, democracy often means a “free competition among would-be leaders forthe vote of the electorate” (Schumpeter 1997, 81; see also Parsons 1959; Lipset1962; Dahl 1971; Sartori 1987). This assumption is not cynical but at the veryleast directs our attention to how local contestants for power respond to Indonesia’srecent experiment with electoral decentralization and the effects of those responseson pathways to power in the regions.

To develop an appreciation of local politics, this book presents detailed casestudies of five elections—Yogyakarta’s 2001 indirect mayoral election, the RiauArchipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election, Batam’s 2006 mayoral election,Depok’s 2005 mayoral election and Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election. Theselected cases, in addition to their individual significance to the debate on localelections and democracy, are helpful in grasping broad patterns of local politicaldevelopment in post-Soeharto Indonesia. Given Indonesia’s vast size and theconsiderable diversity of political, economic and socio-cultural settings, drawinggeneralizable conclusions is difficult. Nonetheless, through its case studies and withextensive references to elections in other localities, this book aims to contribute toour developing understanding of Indonesia’s changing institutions of politics andgovernance.

Understanding the dynamics and outcomes of local elections in Indonesia isimportant in both practical and theoretical respects. In practical terms, an appre-ciation of local electoral processes is critical for efforts to improve the quality ofthe country’s future elections. Indeed, widely cited difficulties in elections of localgovernment heads seem to have already affected popular attitudes and practicesof local politicians and voters, and state–society relations more generally. At stakeis the legitimacy of locally elected government and the democratic quality of thecountry’s political institutions. In theoretical terms, my analysis scrutinizes andquestions the commonly accepted assumption that direct local elections promotethe democratization of local politics.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

2 Introduction

This introductory chapter is divided in five sections. The first section specifiesthe book’s theoretical and empirical concerns. The second section reviews politicaldevelopments in Indonesia before and during the period of study. The third sectiondiscusses the important question of elite politics at the local level. This is followedby a discussion of methodological issues and then an outline of the book’s chapters.

Elections, democracy and decentralization

After a decade of political and administrative reforms and several rounds ofcompetitive elections, Indonesia, by most accounts, displays a democratic politicalsystem. There is, however, little consensus on the character of the country’sdemocracy. Optimists have called Indonesia one of Southeast Asia’s most vibrantdemocracies, a claim that upon a moment’s reflection says remarkably little. It isno coincidence that most optimistic accounts of Indonesia’s politics tend to befixated on Jakarta and national political institutions. By contrast, analysts of thecountry’s local politics, though not dismissive of the country’s significant demo-cratic gains, present evidence that questions the quality and durability of thecountry’s democratic institutions (see, for instance, Aspinall and Fealy 2003; Choi2003; Schulte Nordholt 2003 and 2004; Hadiz 2004 and 2007; and Schulte Nordholtand van Klinken 2007). These more critical accounts suggest that, despite thepresence of elections, competitive political parties and a relatively free press,Indonesia’s politics are frequently determined by such non-democratic mechanismsas corruption, intimidation and clientelism.

In my view, there are two principal reasons for these divergent assessments ofIndonesia’s democracy. The first is the tendency of analysts of national politics toconfuse formal and substantive political institutions. As it stands, most accountsof Indonesia’s national politics do not attend to questions concerning the qualityof democracy—perhaps because such questions require empirical investigation andverification. By contrast, I contend that it is local politics, or patterns of localpolitical activity, that offer realistic insight for evaluating the qualitative featuresof a country’s political and social change, both locally and at the national level.

A second (though related) problem is the tendency of many analysts to assumethat administrative decentralization enhances democracy. I discuss the problemswith this assumption in theoretical and practical terms and examine the diverseand complex effects of decentralization on local politics in Indonesia. In this book,questions about the quality of democracy, the interplay of formal democraticinstitutions and local practices and the complex interplay of administrativedecentralization and local politics are addressed through an empirical investigationof Indonesia’s transition to direct local elections.

Elections and democracy in decentralizing contexts

Elections are an essential part of democratic political processes. They are amechanism by which citizens take part in competitions for political power and makecollective decisions about their future governance. Studies of elections have been

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 3

generally concerned with their impact on the broader political system, such as thedevelopment and democratic performance of the party system (e.g., Katz 1997;Lijphart 1994; Diamond and Plattner 2006). But the relation between electionsand democracy is complex. Conventional perspectives that understand electionsto be “the defining institutions of modern democracy” (Katz 1997, 3) have givenway to a more nuanced view that appreciates the complex and even ambiguousrelation between elections and democracy. Elections, it can be said, are a necessarybut insufficient condition for the institutionalization of substantive representativedemocracy. There are other conditions that must be satisfied.

While studies of democratic transitions have highlighted the variable impactsof elections and developed more nuanced perspectives on the relation betweenelections and democracy, they nonetheless tend to suggest that institutionalizationof electoral processes—i.e., the conduct of regular elections—contributes to theconsolidation of emerging democracies (e.g., Reynolds 1999; Moser 1999;Lindberg 2006).3 As Eric Bjornlund and his colleagues of Democracy Internationalobserve, the institution of elections has become “an increasingly critical requirementfor governments to have legitimacy in the eyes of the international communityand their own citizens” (Bjornlund, Cowan and Gallery 2007, 108). Drawing onan extensive comparative study of elections in Africa, Staffan I. Lindberg (2006, 3)argues that elections in newly democratizing countries “foster liberalization andhave a self-reinforcing power that promotes increased democracy.” There is, inother words, an enduring assumption that that elections positively contribute todemocratic development.

While elections may indeed contribute to democracy, they by no means ensureit. Those who wittingly or unwittingly embrace the “fallacy of electoralism” devotegreat attention to the presence of elections and political parties but comparativelylittle attention to the qualitative features and performance of nominally democraticinstitutions and processes (Karl 1995, 73). Indeed, such oversight tends to legitimatequasi-democratic regimes, whose defenders point to elections to demonstrate theirdemocratic credentials.

If anything, international experience shows that elections very often amount tomore or less sophisticated instruments of popular control. Political elites in regimesaround the contemporary world routinely deploy strategies of electoral engineeringto promote the illusion of democracy and the illusion of choice. Whether and howelections encourage responsive and representative governance depends not on thepresence of elections per se, but rather on other elements, such as the extent of thecompetitiveness of elections, the scope, limits and content of electoral debate andthe presence or magnitude of such undemocratic practices as vote-buying (Blair2000, 27; Johnson 2001, 528; Schmitter 2004).

An important feature of democratic countries is that the vast majority of electionstaking place within them are local. The stakes of local elections have also increased.Over the last two decades an increasing number of countries have adopteddecentralization as a strategy for reforming government (Lutz 2007, 2; see alsoFalleti 2005, 327; Harriss, Stokke and Törnquist 2004, 3).4 And yet relatively verylittle has been written about how the implementation of elections at local levels

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

4 Introduction

affects or relates to national political development. The significance of decentral-ization is especially great in countries transitioning from a highly centralized andauthoritarian to more deconcentrated and democratic political systems. To be sure,it is national authorities that typically make decisions regarding the design of thesub-national structure, the responsibilities and duties assigned to the local units ofgovernment, the system of financial transfers as well as political intergovernmentalrelations (Lutz 2007, 3).5 Nonetheless, the decentralization of government func-tions, alongside the institutionalization of elections, has profound effects on localpolitics, particularly in formerly authoritarian settings.

The advent of regular elections and decentralization has fueled a growing interestin how local politics work in new democracies. However, the study of local politicsin relation to decentralization remains as a minor field and tends to be focused onthe administrative devolution of responsibilities and the performance of localauthorities rather than the political processes by which local elites are elected tooffice (Hartmann 2006; cited in Lutz 2007, 4). Elections for local authorities,although they are one of the most frequently adopted institutions for deepeningdecentralization, have received very little attention.6

Elections in Indonesia

Since the fall of Soeharto, Indonesia has seen three multi-party general elections,in 1999, 2004 and 2009, and two direct presidential elections, in 2004 and 2009.These elections attracted worldwide interest. Prominent international organizationsand political leaders greeted these elections with enthusiasm and emphasized theirimportance to the consolidation of the country’s democracy. For example, theAsia Foundation (2004) hailed Indonesia’s 2004 elections as “a milestone on thecountry’s path to democracy.” By the same token, the Carter Center (2005, 13)assessed the first direct presidential election in 2004 as “an important milestone inthe consolidation of Indonesia’s democratisation process.” The 2009 electionsreceived relatively less attention but were still praised as “another importantchapter” in the country’s political history (Carter Center 2009; ANFREL 2009).7

While there has been enormous attention paid to Indonesia’s revitalized electoraland party politics, most discussions have heavily centered on the national electoraland party systems as well as national parliamentary politics (e.g., King 2003;Ziegenhain 2008). The dynamics of local electoral and party politics have receivedcomparatively little attention. This is unfortunate for, in practice and especiallygiven Indonesia’s increasingly decentralized political landscape, it is local electoraland party politics that give us the most accurate understanding of the state ofcontemporary Indonesia’s democracy.8

One of this book’s underlying assumptions is that the study of local elections,their organization, conduct and outcomes can provide a vital window on Indonesia’spolitics and how power is acquired, contested and maintained in contemporaryIndonesia. The study of local elections can provide “a means for understandingthe rise of new social classes and the fixed or changing locus of power in anysociety” (Taylor 1996, 11; cited in Arghiros 2001, 3–4). Indeed, when we ignore

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 5

or discount the importance of local elections we “miss much that is important aboutthe content and culture of ‘democracy’” in the society concerned (ibid., 4).

As indicated above, processes of decentralization make the study of localelections increasingly important. “Electoral decentralization”—i.e., the coincidenceof democratic reforms with administrative decentralization—has been widelyadvocated as a means of deepening democracy and enhancing democraticgovernance at local levels. In particular, international organizations (e.g., the WorldBank and the International Monetary Fund) have promoted local elections as“fundamental to the consolidation of democracy” by improving the representationof local interests and giving citizens better access to policy makers (LGSP 2007).9

However, there has always been “a marked gap between the theory and practiceof democratic decentralization” (Arghiros 2001, 5) and Indonesia during early post-Soeharto period was no exception.

As this book shows, a number of post-Soeharto local elections were marred by “money politics” and political intimidation, underscoring the difficulty ofconsolidating democratic practices at local levels. The point of this book is not towrite off the significance of elections in the context of Indonesia’s politicaldecentralization, but to illustrate their complexity and to demonstrate that localelections—whether indirect or direct—seems to be insufficient in yielding moreresponsive officials and opening power competitions to a broader public.

Decentralization and local politics in Indonesia: beyond assumptions

As with many countries associated with the so-called “third wave” of democratiza-tion, Indonesia in the post-Soeharto era has experienced not only democratictransition but also rapid administrative and political decentralization. And yet ourunderstanding of the combined effects of these processes on local politics inIndonesia remains limited. In large part, this is a result of observers’ consistentfocus on national politics at the expense of local politics. Internationally, mostassessments of the effects of Indonesia’s political decentralization continue to rest on unfounded assumptions about the relation between elections, decentraliza-tion and the quality of democracy. International observers widely acknowledgethe importance of political decentralization in Indonesia, but their analyses remainfirmly pitched at the national level with little or no evidence of any serious atten-tion to local conditions and processes. Scholars of Indonesian politics haveexamined a variety of issues pertaining to decentralization (e.g., Kingsbury andAveling 2003; Alm, Martinez-Vezquez and Indrawati 2004; Erb, Sulistiyanto andFaucher 2005). But comparatively few have focused on the political dynamics ofdecentralization on the ground.10 The present book seeks to contribute to a smallbut emerging literature on local politics and elections in Indonesia with an aim of deepening out understanding of Indonesia and contributing to wider debates ondemocracy.

Discourse on the relation between decentralization and local democracy in third-wave democracies can be divided broadly into proponents and skeptics. Proponents,represented by such international development organizations as the World Bank

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

6 Introduction

and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), tend to be normativeand emphasize the positive and presumptively mutually reinforcing impacts ofdemocracy and decentralization on the responsiveness, accountability and effec-tiveness of local governance. Decentralization amid democratic reforms is assumedto contribute to local democratization, in which the power of central governmentshould be reduced while accountability of locally elected bodies and popularparticipation may be enhanced. In other words, democracy and decentralization aredesirable in their own right as decentralization tends to enhance the quality ofdemocracy.

A UNDP report (2002, 2) states, for instance, that “[d]ecentralisation and demo-cratic governance create more open, responsive and effective local government,enhancing representational systems of community level decision-making.” As TuliaG. Falleti (2005, 327–8) points out, those who draw from the liberal tradition assumethat decentralization helps to deepen and consolidate democracy by devolvingpower to local governments, while others warn against the devolution of powerthat can augment distributional conflicts, foster subnational authoritarianism and exacerbate patronage. To be sure, there is a diversity of views within thisbroad normative perspective. Nonetheless, normative theories of democracy anddecentralization tend to emphasize the putative benefits of decentralization. Thisperspective remains prominent in theoretical literature on local democracy owingboth to its normative appeal and political and financial backing by powerfulorganizations.

The second camp, which also exhibits internal diversity, is distinguished by itscomparative skepticism, pointing out such negative developments as local elitecapture (e.g., Crook and Manor 1995; Manor 1999; Blair 2000; Johnson 2001).Specifically, this second group sees no inherent relation between democracy anddecentralization (Oxhorn 2004). It rather points out that the mere presence offormally democratic institutions and decentralized governance arrangements hasindeterminate effects on the quality of democracy or governance more broadly.Central to this second perspective is a distinction between formal and “real” politicalinstitutions. The assumption is that the practical significance of formal rules andprocedures in any setting is contingent on the interaction between institutions and agents. In practice, local actors may respond to democratic institutions anddecentralization in a myriad of ways, depending on their specific interests, capacitiesand interpretive frames. In other words, the practical outcomes of democraticinstitutions and decentralization often defy generalization.

Although political and administrative decentralization can enhance the respon-siveness, accountability and transparency of local government, both internationalexperience and Indonesia’s own recent experience warn us against unquali-fied optimism. Assessing the actual effects of various decentralization measuresrequires evidence and explanation going beyond simplistic assumptions about their positive impact on local political institutions and processes. Whether, howand with what consequences decentralization affects local political institutionsand governance in Indonesia is an open question and can be answered only byempirical analysis.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 7

No matter how deliberate they may be, the designed rules and the enforcementmechanisms for decentralization often fail to fully determine the actual outcomesof decentralization programs. What appears to be more decisive in terms of theeffects of decentralization policies is how to interpret, apply or subvert rules andmechanisms on the ground. The experiences of many countries that underwentdemocratization and decentralization simultaneously tell us that the positive impactof devolving power to local authorities in the process of democratization will only be felt if the decentralized power is exercised democratically (Kerkvliet andMojares 1991; Crook and Manor 1995; Trocki 1998; Blair 2000; Arghiros 2001;Swianiewicz 2001). For instance, reforms in Thailand and the Philippines haverevealed that competitive elections for local officials do not, in themselves, ensurethat the devolved authority would be operated democratically (Kerkvliet 1996;Sidel 1999; McVey 2000). Ideally, both downward delegation of authority andupward public pressures are needed in decentralizing democracy. But, in reality,civil society is often weak and fragmented while power competition is limited tothe established elite.

For this reason, grasping comprehensively Indonesia’s political change essen-tially requires us to look into how decentralization combined with democraticreforms has impacted the country’s local politics and governance. If we takeelections as an example, it is almost impossible to notice the subtle but real relationbetween formally democratic elections and such political practices as vote-buyingif our focus remains on the national electoral system and outcomes. Analyses ofpolitical processes at local levels portray a different picture than generally feel-good stories from the national level. They show something important is missingfrom accounts of Indonesia’s political change.11 This by no means undermines thesignificant democratic gains that Indonesia has achieved for the past decade.12 Itrather reminds us that institutional changes do not in and of themselves lead theinstitutionalization of democratic behavior and practices at the grassroots. It istherefore important to go beyond a simplistic assumption about the positive impactof formal democratic institutions and look into the actual patterns of political changeat local levels.

There is little evidence that democratic reforms combined with decentraliza-tion systematically opens political space to the public and encourages electedofficials to be more responsive and accountable. In post-Soeharto Indonesia, wehave observed the revitalization and institutionalization of undemocratic politicalpractices both within and outside the shell of formally democratic political institu-tions. For example, over the last decade, money politics and political intimidationhave emerged as key issues in post-Soeharto Indonesia’s local politics (Choi 2003;Antlöv 2003; Hadiz 2003; Malley 2003; Mietzner 2007a).

Corruption is a persistent problem but now seems to have reached a new point.13

It is no longer highly centralized and involves both the manipulation of budgetsby politicians in self-enriching ways and political decisions being taken not on themerits of the issues but as a result of payments made by interested groups.14 Therehas also been a penetration of local political institutions by political gangsterism,popularly known as permanisme. As political parties quickly emerged as significant

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

8 Introduction

bases of political power in post-Soeharto Indonesia, they have also become a newsource of political protection and even access to the formal political process.15 Sincethe 1999 elections, many regions have seen expanding operations of the party-affiliated perman groups in criminal activities such as petty extortion, racketeeringand debt collection to generate income for the party and their own members.16

In this book, I emphasize the significance and necessity of making sense of “what is happening” rather than “what should (or should not) be happening”according to some normative theory. Without underestimating formal rules andprocedures or discounting the possibility of substantive improvements in the“quality of democracy,” the case studies in this book demonstrate the practicalimpacts of democratic reforms and decentralization on the changing nature anddynamics of local political life in post-Soeharto Indonesia.

Overall, Indonesia’s experience during the first decade of democratic reform anddecentralization stands in stark contrast with many international observers’ rosyaccounts. Substantively, both the locally grounded scholarly accounts and numerouspress reports remind us that formal institutional arrangements do not, in and ofthemselves, consolidate democratic values, attitudes and behaviors in daily politics.The mere existence of formally democratic institutions and decentralization policiesby no means guarantees the institutionalization of democratic practices. On thecontrary, analyses of political change in Indonesia and other settings suggest thatpeople interpret, apply and experience the formal rules of democracy in profoundlydifferent, frequently unintended and often contradictory and undemocratic ways.To understand what is actually happening—rather than what should be happening—requires empirical analysis of the processes of implementing changes and theimplications of outcomes.

Direct local elections

This book concerns a particular political institution adopted by the Indonesiangovernment as part of its effort to enhance the quality of democracy at local levels:direct elections of local government heads. A widely justified assumption was that such elections would trigger and intensify democratic reforms at local levels(Marijan 2007, 3). One of the complaints often heard about post-SoehartoIndonesia’s local governance was the lack of the system of “checks and balances.”The new system was designed to eliminate mounting money politics in localpolitical institutions (particularly local assemblies) and introduce transparency andaccountability to the electoral process (Mietzner 2006). Like in many other third-wave democracies, international organizations such as the World Bank and theUNDP, were among those vigorously advocated such a move and provided trainingand technical support in Indonesia.17 They placed their hope in the prospect thatdirectly elected officials would make decisions and policies for the public good,which in turn would improve the democratic quality of national politics andgovernance (e.g., Azfar et al. 1999; Marijan 2007, 15).18 After several years ofmaintaining the indirect electoral system that repeatedly failed to enhance trans-parency of decision-making and accountability to the public, local voters too

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 9

welcomed such a move.19 Therefore, there has been a great deal of attention to andenthusiasm for direct elections of local government heads. Relatively little has beendiscussed about the actual electoral process and impact on broader politicaldevelopment. Given the potential impact of direct local elections on localgovernance and “local democratization,” a careful empirical analysis of suchelections is a useful contribution to our understanding of political change in post-Soeharto Indonesia. More specifically, this book focuses on local elections’ effecton the party development and leadership development in Indonesia’s regions. Inthe following sections, I discuss each issue in its own right and also in relation togeneral political development.

Political parties: the question of representation

Among numerous arguments justifying direct elections of local government headswas that such elections would increase the responsiveness of elected officials tolocal needs. Dismayed by the increasingly destructive and disintegrative image ofpost-Soeharto party politics, Indonesian intellectuals, activists and citizens quicklybought such an argument. In fact, by the time the initial round of direct localelections was held in 2005, many Indonesians began showing their skepticismtoward the country’s revitalized multi-party politics.20 The revitalization of multi-party politics turned out to be insufficient in creating and strengthening linkagesof responsiveness and accountability between party politicians sitting in localassemblies and their constituents. Instead of their unfulfilled expectation about a“more” democratic future, Indonesians witnessed such undemocratic practices asmoney politics and political intimidation deep-rooted in the country’s day-to-daypolitics (see Choi 2003, Chapters IV and V in particular).

Political parties have been conventionally credited with taking an importantpart in democratizing formerly authoritarian polities. Many democratic systems aregrounded on a party system in their actual operations, and thus, political partieshave been placed at the center of understanding how democracy works. They playa crucial role in elections and influence the agenda of public discourse by organizing,articulating and aggregating societal demands and interests. They also function asa training ground for political elites who aim to assume governing roles. However,practical experience has proven that post-authoritarian circumstances usually donot support an ideal track for party development, although there may be a certaindegree of institutionalization of the party system and individual parties.21 Underthe fluid circumstance of political change, party politicians often have weak linkagesof accountability and responsiveness to the people and tend to disregard the formaldemocratic rules and procedures. Accordingly, many people in post-authoritarianpolities tend to blame political parties for negative outcomes and features ofdemocratic transitions. Since the late 1990s, Indonesians have also changed theirattitudes toward parties and elections. Despite the country’s continuous experimentwith democratic reform and decentralization, the forgotten promises made duringthe elections and the abuse of the expanded authority by politicians have vastly

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

10 Introduction

dampened expectations of ordinary Indonesians about a more democratic andlocally grounded political life.

One take on direct local elections is that they broke party politicians’ strangleholdon local politics.22 After all, local people do indeed have the final say over whowill be their head of government. However, the advent of direct local electionshas not addressed a basic problem: major parties’ oligarchic dominance. Dominantparties play gatekeepers, and only those able to pay the gatekeepers get to contestelections (see also Pratikno 2009). An ironic development that my analysis of fourelections and observation of many others highlights is that direct local electionshave weakened political parties at local levels. Yet the weakening of political partiesin local politics has not enhanced the democratic quality of local politics. On thecontrary, the paralysis of parties has twisted the meaning of direct elections of localgovernment heads. Direct local elections have rather contributed to the repositioningof long-established and well-resourced local elites in local political institutions andgovernance.23 With the nomination door slightly ajar, only well-established politicaland economic elites have slipped through. It remains unclear what these devel-opments implicate about Indonesia’s democratic development in the future.

The patterns of party development and their implications on democracy andgovernance in post-Soeharto Indonesia have further complicated, rather thanresolved, the question of representation. Political parties have consolidated theiroligarchic power at the national stage but have weakened in local politics andgovernance.24 This growing alienation of party politicians from grassroots votershave led to Indonesians’ increasing abstention from voting, while major partieshave consolidated their monopoly over the political processes (Lane 2009).

Political parties in new democracies, as Thomas Carothers (2006, 6) hasobserved, are “indeed highly problematic organizations from the point of view ofdemocratic development.” They generally display a tendency toward “leader-centrism, top-down organizational management, nontransparent and often highlypersonalistic financing, relentless electoralism, and ideological vagueness” (ibid.,8). In turn, troubled parties tend to jeopardize the meaning and significance of formaldemocratic institutions, such as local elections. Carothers argues that the mostserious negative consequence of problematic party development is the “inadequaterepresentation” of constituents’ aspirations and interests. He describes frequentlyobserved features of post-authoritarian parties as below:

Leader-centric parties with weak organizations, low policy capacity, and vagueideologies are poor at articulating and aggregating the interests of citizens.They usually fail to develop close, regular ties to a defined constituency. Theyconcentrate on serving their own immediate interests, which are often the directinterests of their leaders or of the small circle of financial backers of the party.Even those parties that have managed to develop substantial organizations androots in a defined constituency usually fall badly short on representationbecause their relationship to their constituency is based on patronage ties.

(Ibid., 11)

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 11

Certainly, problematic party development is not the only cause of the inadequaterepresentation. Broader political and social conditions in which political institutionsoperate certainly influence the mechanism by which parties connect their con-stituents with the state and government. However, there are party functions thatare more critical in the late-democratizing or post-authoritarian context than inestablished democracies. Providing people with political education about thedemocratic process and fulfilling the government functions when they come topower are among them. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, parties and partypoliticians tend to ignore such functions under the uncertain situation of rapidpolitical, economic and social change. International experience warns that partieswith hierarchical, personalistic and non-transparent features usually poorly fulfillgovernance tasks.

It is still premature to assess the practical impact of Indonesia’s direct localelections on the country’s general democratic development. Nonetheless, it bearsemphasis that the challenges of overcoming the gulf between formal electoraldemocracy and substantive democratization lie in the problem of adequate (orinadequate) representation. For one of the toughest challenges facing late-democratizing polities is the need of “establishing governments that are not merelyelected by the people but actually serve the people” (ibid., 12). There is no doubtthat Indonesia’s recent direct local elections represent an important turning pointin the country’s local politics. At the same time, the outcomes for Indonesia’scontinuing political change remain unclear. Political parties played a negligiblerole in educating their supporters about the significance and process of direct localelections. Despite that they have played a powerful role in deciding who is allowedto compete in elections for local office, they have generally failed to make theirpresence felt in the elections by allowing only those who were capable of obtainingcandidacy from parties to contest elections. As a result, direct local elections haveparadoxically paralyzed political parties at local levels. In place of paralyzedpolitical parties, entrenched and well-resourced local elites contested with eachother in their bid for local executive heads.25 Experiences of holding direct localelections in the Riau Archipelago, Batam, Depok and Banyuwangi will show thatsuch elections seem to have benefited only selected elites, challenging the dominantassumption that direct local elections herald the arrival of local democracy.

Formally holding direct local elections is just the beginning of a long journeytoward practically realizing such intended outcomes as improved responsivenessand accountability of local governance. It is an open-ended journey, and process andoutcomes of direct local elections ultimately depend on the political and economicsettings of the locality, the political and economic interests as well as capacities ofdiverse local actors, and political attitudes and behaviors of local populations. Inother words, the practical effects of direct local elections depend not on formalinstitutional reforms, but on how local actors interpret and respond to those formalreforms on the ground. Overall, this analysis of local dynamics surrounding fourdirect local elections suggests that political parties’ monopoly over local electoralprocess has failed to address the question of adequate representation of local needsand interests, which advocates of direct local elections hoped for.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

12 Introduction

Direct local elections have rather revealed the fragility of formal democraticinstitutions in the face of entrenched elites’ patrimonial domination (see alsoBuehler and Tan 2007; Hadiz 2007; Buehler 2009; Hidayat 2009; Schiller 2009).26

Formal institutional change should not be equated with substantive change in localpoliticians’ behavior and practices. As Schulte Nordholt and van Klinken (2007,24) have observed, institutional changes at local levels tend, rather, to make certainhidden aspects of the state more explicit as they reveal the extent to which localactors use the state for their own interests. This is particularly true when decen-tralization creates greater space for local elites to build and develop informalnetworks with local state actors. When this happens, local institutions and processesturn out to be so fragile that, in some cases, such as those of Depok and Banyuwangi,local elites can manipulate them to further their private interests. Under a democraticand decentralized political system, Indonesia’s local elites have managed to extendtheir informal patron–client networks into formal state institutions and gover-nance.27 Furthermore, the country’s recent experiment with direct local electionshas exposed the stubborn, though changing, continuities that characterize oldpatterns of politics. Informal networks are still a key factor in local power struggles,particularly in societies where personalized state–society relations dominate politicsand governance.

Local elites: pathways to power

This book also concerns the patterns of leadership development in local Indonesia.The disintegration of the centralistic New Order has generated and expanded spacefor local elites. Two distinct patterns of local leadership development are mostlynoteworthy: the expansion of local elite groups and the concentration of powerand resources to elite groups. Opportunities for office and power have increasedand a number of new faces have taken part in the intensified power competition.Nonetheless, those with money or networks or socio-religious influence have beenmostly successful in claiming decentralized power and governance. In importantrespects, the weakening of political parties appears to have contributed to thispattern of elite development: Well-heeled and well-connected local elites—whetherentrenched or new—have made the most of weakened party organizations in theirbid for office and power, while continuously relying on patrimonial politics inmobilizing and sustaining their support base. Although it is premature to draw aconclusion, this pattern of leadership development appears to have constrainedthe kinds of interests that can be reflected in local political processes and outcomes.

Local elites refer to locally based individuals with disproportionate access tosocial, political or economic power.28 Three groups of local elites are especiallyprominent in Indonesia’s local politics: government officials, businesspeople andcommunity leaders. Government officials, elected or non-elected, have generallyplayed an important role in Indonesia’s local societies. To boost and maintain itslegitimacy, the New Order regime invested oil boom revenues in infrastructurefor administration and general economic development in the regions. In manyregions, therefore, local government was often the biggest service provider and

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 13

employer. With the introduction of democratic elections and decentralization,politicians in local governments and assemblies now command substantiallyexpanded power and resources. Accordingly, competition to access and controllocal government has substantially intensified. Direct elections of local governmentheads have further heightened power struggle at local levels.

Indonesia’s local societies have observed local elite groups expand and diversifythrough such decentralized and intensified power struggles. Accordingly, themeaning and significance of local elites have also changed. Powerful businesspeopleand community leaders have taken bigger parts in local governance and politics.Across the country, established bureaucrats, successful businesspeople and well-revered community leaders have run for strategically important positions in localgovernments and assemblies. They now claim an unprecedented degree of mandate,power and even fame. For instance, Indonesia’s leading national weekly Tempodeemed ten regents and mayors (out of 472) as “promising future leaders” at theend of 2008. Nonetheless, relatively little has been known about Indonesia’s localelites.

Despite the increased attention paid to them, the status of “local elites” is stillslippery and puzzling. One of the challenges lies in the actual patterns of elitedevelopment amid democratic reforms and decentralization. Although it is stillsomewhat premature, observations of electoral processes and outcomes since 2005warn us that the patterns of elite development can jeopardize Indonesia’s democraticdevelopment.29 So, it is crucial to examine local elites—their backgrounds, aspira-tions and relationships with the society—to understand what kind of democracy istaking roots in Indonesia’s local societies.

In general, the elite continues to monopolize Indonesia’s governance and politics.There are now more diverse and more localized elite groups across Indonesia’sregions, however. Those who have successfully adjusted themselves to the newdemocratic rules of the game seem to remain as key players in local politics (seealso Schulte Nordholt 2004; Sidel 2004; Mietzner 2006; Hadiz 2007). They usuallysustain their legitimacy through their patrimonial networks or their advantagedaccess to state resources.30 Meanwhile, competitive elections and decentralizedgovernance have enabled diverse segments of Indonesia’s local societies to garnerpopular support in their bid for power and access to resources. There are undoubt-edly increased opportunities for politicians with lower- or middle-class backgroundsto rise through political parties or bureaucratic structure, although their success rateis another question.

The Indonesian elite’s collective interest in elections is particularly importantin that it can be both a crucial basis of the actually existing democracy and itsmajor drawbacks. Olle Törnquist (2009, 9) argues that Indonesia’s democracycannot survive without elite support but, with elite support, it has become “thedomain of ‘rotten politicians’ who prosper and entrench themselves throughcorruption” (see also Hadiz 2007, 880). It is the elite that still dominate Indonesia’srepresentation system, and this domination seems to strongly influence whoseinterests and issues should be included in, or excluded from, the political processes.In other words, the ever-resourceful and ever-opportunistic elites prevent ordinary

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

14 Introduction

people and their interests from entering the political arena. In turn, the lack of, andthus dissatisfaction with, representation has quickly cultivated the Indonesianpublic’s distrust in democracy.

In general, Indonesia’s local elites seem to remain “fractured and relatively weak”(Ufen 2008; see also Sidel 2004; Hadiz 2007).31 This may have begun changing,ironically as a result of the country’s recent electoral decentralization. In most directlocal elections, except cases such as the elections of Depok and Banyuwangidetailed in this book, entrenched elites managed to win elections, secure theircontrol over local governance and maintain their patrimonial networks withoutdifficulty (Rinakit 2005; Mahendra 2005, 8; Mietzner 2007b). In many regions,entrenched local elites have successfully reassured their control over decentralizedpower and governance, posing a question about the implications of such leadershipdevelopment on the country’s democratic future.32

Observing several direct local elections in Bali, Graeme MacRae and I. NyomanDarma Putra (2009) conclude “while many of the candidates in all these electionsobviously had a degree of elite status, and some were arguably part of the establishedpolitical elite, few of the successful ones were even established politicians.” Theynoticed direct elections of local government heads provide new opportunities fornew candidates from varying backgrounds. At the same time, they also observed“the re-emergence of the traditional aristocracies” in the formal political arena,both directly as candidates and indirectly as sources of legitimation and supportfor candidates. Meanwhile, the role of political parties and policy in the electoralcampaigns seemed to be “strikingly unimportant” (ibid.). Therefore, the qualityand nature of Indonesia’s local democracy appear to depend on how the reassertionof patrimonial elite politics combined with the weakening of political parties willaffect the institutionalized patterns of political practices and the character ofstate–society relations in the regions.

Methodological issues

This book aims to deepen our understanding of local political life in Indonesia byillustrating the interplay between institutions and actors, on the basis of five casestudies of local elections in Indonesia, one held in the indirect format in 2001 andfour held by popular vote between June 2005 and January 2006. The selection wasinformed by my own and others’ assessment of the significance of individual casesfor understanding and explaining the gap between formal institutional changesand practical impact on political behavior and practices on the ground. Additionally,each case has its own merits in terms of the ongoing debate about the impact ofelectoral decentralization on Indonesia’s democratic development at the local level.Although it does not aim to generalize the five cases to other regions, this book,with its comparative perspective, is expected to link “the specifics of local changesto a larger concern for social pattern” (McVey 1978, 8). Similar stories can be andhave been found throughout the country. The locally grounded studies in this bookcan therefore theoretically, as well as empirically, contribute to a broader discussion

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 15

of democratic institutions, decentralization and changing state–society relationsin Indonesia.

I lived in Indonesia for over four years between 1997 and 2002 and since thenhave regularly traveled to the country. I first went there in January 1997 to do aMaster’s degree in Anthropology at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta. Forthe next three years, I was lucky to observe first-hand the dramatic changes inlocal politics that preceded and followed the fall of Soeharto in May 1998. I returnedto Yogyakarta in March 2001 to conduct field research specifically on party andparliamentary politics. I spent the next year interviewing local assembly members,party functionaries and staff of the local assemblies, discussing political changewith students, journalists, academics, non-governmental organization (NGO)activists and ordinary people, and observing the day-to-day politics of the localassemblies and local boards of political parties. For direct local elections, I madearound ten separate visits to individual regions during 2005 and 2006.

The book covers four provinces: the Special Region of Yogyakarta, the RiauArchipelago, West Java and East Java. For reasons related to its location in CentralJava and its importance in Indonesia’s political history, Yogyakarta is widely seenas a barometer for broader political trends. Yogyakarta has a special place in thehistory of the Republic of Indonesia as the base for the fledgling nationalistgovernment during much of the revolution against the returning Dutch colonialforces. In the 1990s, Yogyakarta was often called a “city of learning” (kota belajar)and a “city of culture” (kota budaya), combining a patchwork of progressive-liberalintellectualism with a traditional-autocratic culture. In the turmoil of the last monthsof Soeharto’s authoritarian regime, the region became a stronghold for the reformasimovement calling for the overthrow of the authoritarian New Order. Many peoplein Yogyakarta take pride in the region’s social harmony that they attribute to therealm of culture, the character of the citizens and the integrity of the Sultanate(Susanto 1993, 11–12).

Separated from the resource-rich Riau Province in 2004, the Riau Archipelagois a young region but has a distinctive political economy. Developed initially forthe state-owned oil company Pertamina and later for Singaporean investors, theregion was one of the main suppliers of funds to Soeharto’s patronage system until1998. Since 2001, the devolution of a wide range of authorities has unfoldeddifferent power configurations and new dynamics of change in the region. Populatedmostly by migrant workers from all over the country, local societies in the regionare very heterogeneous sociologically and politically. While both West and EastJava are relatively homogeneous in many ways, being mainly ethnically Javanese,decentralization has brought about fundamental changes to both regions as well,particularly in terms of intensified struggle for decentralized power and governance.Each case study is built on the distinctive political, economic, social and culturalcharacteristics of the region.

This book’s main methodology is ethnographic case studies and it makes use offour types of data: (1) interviews with candidates, campaigners, party functionaries,local assembly members, election commission staff, government officials, aca-demics, religious leaders, journalists, civil society activists and ordinary citizens;

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

16 Introduction

(2) official documents from local assemblies, local governments, local electioncommissions and court records; (3) both national and local newspapers, magazinesand workshop papers; and (4) literature on democracy, decentralization, politicalparties, local politics and elite development. During field research, I visited partybranches’ offices, local assemblies and local newspaper bureaus, as well as thehouses of related individuals. I conducted in-depth interviews with the local electioncommission staff, party politicians, local assembly members, candidates, lawyers,societal leaders, journalists and academics. The secondary data were collected fromnational and local dailies, weekly and monthly magazines and academic writings,as well as official documents and court records. The collected data often have somelimitations, which can be attributed to, among other things, the ambiguity of relatedlaws and regulations (Djohan and Suwandi 2005; Carter Center 2009, 14). Thereis no official institution or agency that provides a full range of reliable data regard-ing Indonesia’s local elections. The first three years I spent in Yogyakarta andlater experiences in other localities and continuous discussions with experiencedobservers were extremely helpful in compiling the collected data.

Outline of the book

Analyzing empirical cases of Indonesia’s local elections requires some basicfamiliarity with the formal institutions governing elections. Chapter 1 discussesIndonesia’s decentralized local power struggles in the broader context of thecountry’s political change. It examines Indonesia’s historical background of decen-tralization, explains the transition from indirect to direct elections of localgovernment heads and then analyzes the institutional framework for direct electionsof local government heads. The historical and institutional framework of localpower struggles will underpin the following case studies. The chapter also examinesthe controversies that surrounded, and continue to surround, the governing systemof direct local elections.

Chapter 2 examines Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election, which was amongthe first and most important instances of indirect elections, in which party delegateswere the electors, in the post-Soeharto era. As a barometer for nationwide politicaltrends, Yogyakarta provides an important opportunity to observe how indirectelections in a major municipality worked and affected the dynamics of local politics.The case study shows early development of local politics amid nationwide processesof democratic change and decentralization. It casts light on undemocratic practiceswithin local political institutions at the beginning of democratic decentralization.In theoretical and practical terms, the case sheds light on the mechanisms thatdetermine whether or under what conditions the indirect electoral system—whichhad the advantage of being cheaper to organize—shaped pathways to power.

Chapter 3 examines the dynamics and outcomes of the Riau Archipelago’s 2005gubernatorial election. Selected as a significant instance of a provincial election,the analysis of this election shows the ability of entrenched political and bureaucraticelites to survive formal institutional changes and build successful coalitions withpolitically ambitious businesspeople. The case study has the added dimension of

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Introduction 17

being significant to Indonesia’s relations to regional and global political economies,as the Archipelago is a significant destination for international investment andtourism.

Chapter 4 investigates the processes and outcomes of Batam’s 2006 mayoralelection, which was the city’s first direct election. More importantly, the case raisesparticularly important theoretical questions about the legacies of authoritarian rule.Until 1998, Batam was an integral part of Soeharto’s patronage system. WithSoeharto and his patronage system gone, Batam’s first mayoral election presentedthe island’s politicians and businesspeople unprecedented opportunities to contestand grab substantially expanded power and resources. That the election ratherweakened political parties and party politicians through local power strugglesuggests the need to reevaluate assumptions regarding the practical impacts ofdemocratic decentralization.

Chapter 5 examines the 2005 elections in Depok and Banyuwangi, the mostfiercely contested and most controversial elections after Indonesia shifted to a directelectoral system that year. In Depok and in Banyuwangi, elections and thecontroversies surrounding them ignited intense social conflicts among competinglocal interests. Indonesia has been widely regarded as having achieved a “smoothtransition” to democracy. Given the “smooth” conduct of elections in most otherlocalities, the cases of Depok and Banyuwangi are exceptions rather than the ruleand show the analytic value of “the negative cases.” The two cases are particularlyimportant in that they reveal the potential threat of decentralized politicalcompetition in which entrenched elites rely on patrimonial power relations andmass mobilization in running political institutions and intimidating new power-seekers.

Finally, the Conclusion reflects on what has been achieved by these locallygrounded case studies with regard to democratic institutions and power strugglesin Indonesia’s regions. It discusses Indonesia’s local elections in the broader contextof the country’s decade-long democratic change and political reforms. On the basisof the selected cases and elections in other localities, the chapter draws on somegeneral conclusions on the impact of electoral decentralization on Indonesia’s localpolitics and governance. It also considers the desirability of broadening theoreticaldiscussion on local power struggles in the context of democratic reforms anddecentralization so that it covers actual impact of political change at the grassroots.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

18 Introduction

1 Democracy and local power struggle

Some Indonesians, particularly those on outer islands, have longed for regionalautonomy since independence. Therefore, taking part in direct elections of localgovernment heads for the first time was of historical significance for manyIndonesians. For advocates of political decentralization and its positive linkagewith democratic consolidation, holding these elections marked the beginning oflocal democratization in Indonesia. However, the experiences of holding directlocal elections since 2005 suggest a different picture. People turned out to be lessenthusiastic, or even pessimistic, about their new right to directly elect theirgovernors, mayors or regents. Political parties generally failed to get a grip oflocalized political processes and power struggles by choosing to play the role ofgatekeepers. There were also systemic issues related to the elections’ institutionalframework. In some cases, such systemic problems tarnished the legitimacy ofelectoral processes and outcomes. Even before holding the first round of elections,there were already widespread concerns over the capacity of local electioncommissions in staging and governing elections without assistance and monitoringof their mother organization in Jakarta. Given the ambiguity of the related law andregulations, there were also worries about the possible intervention in the electoralprocesses by the central or local authorities.

Such concerns and worries turned out to be legitimate and many elections,including “success stories,” proved that the institutional framework governingIndonesia’s direct local elections was defective. In response to prevalent discontentwith the electoral system and conflicting regulations for direct local elections, thenational assembly discussed the possibility of holding elections simultaneouslynationwide under the leadership of the national election commission. Such a movecould improve the governance of direct local elections and reduce the costs ofholding hundreds of elections separately, but no major change was made to thelaw and regulations concerning the elections. A second round of elections beganin May 2010.

Henceforth, both to understand Indonesia’s recent political development and toanticipate the impact of conflicting regulations, it is necessary to grasp the processesand outcomes of direct local elections. Doing so requires us to familiarize ourselveswith the rules of the game, which in turn necessitates understanding the backgroundof electoral reform for local government heads. In this chapter, I analyze the context

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

and content of electoral reform and implications of the institutional arrangementfor Indonesia’s first-ever direct local elections. The analysis is organized in threeparts. First, I discuss Indonesia’s experiment with direct local elections in a broadcontext of the country’s ongoing democratic reforms and decentralization inparticular. I then briefly review the historical background of the idea of decen-tralization in Indonesia and the path of decentralization that the country has takensince the fall of the New Order regime. More specifically, I examine the politicalbackdrop against which direct elections of local government heads were adopted.Finally, I analyze the new electoral system and the formal institutions governingdirect local elections. The chapter particularly focuses on the law on regionaladministration (Law No. 32 of 2004 and its amendments) and supplementaryregulations that have direct and indirect effect on local electoral and party politics.

My claims in this chapter are twofold. First, it is important to consider rules andmechanisms as far as they influence the conduct and outcomes of elections. Inindividual case studies, we have to consider other key factors such as the locality’spolitical history and socio-economic characteristics. It is also essential to see howkey players and their interests shape the election field and outcomes. Second,Indonesia’s national party leaders crafted the institutional framework of direct localelections but, ironically, they have generally lost their grip on local politics andgovernance. They secured their monopoly over the nomination of candidates inthose elections but have frequently failed to deal with internal conflicts, particularlythose stemming from national party leaders’ centralizing pretentions and localcadres’ resistance against such attempts. In many elections, political parties weremissing from the rest process of local societies’ quest for new leadership. Thisbroad picture has little changed even after the Constitutional Court’s 2007 rulingdeprived political parties of their monopoly over candidate nomination and allowedindependent candidates to stand for the position of local government heads.

Overall, I argue that the ultimate problem with Indonesia’s direct local electionslies in the expectation that electoral decentralization would consolidate the country’snew democracy at local levels. However, Indonesians have always responded tothe idea of decentralization in an ambivalent way, which has in turn affected thepath of decentralization that their political leaders have taken amid sweepingpolitical change. While the resultant institutional arrangements for decentralizationhave indeed made local governance and politics far more vibrant, they have notyet made local political processes more transparent, responsive and participatory.

Democratic reforms and decentralization

The adoption of direct local executive elections is the latest step that the Indonesiangovernment has taken in the country’s ongoing process of political and admini-strative reforms. As in many other late-democratizing societies, Indonesia’s politicalleaders have crafted and implemented administrative and political decentralizationas a way of consolidating their new democracy at local levels. Therefore, to examinethe country’s direct local elections requires us to grasp decentralization in relationto broad democratic reforms, which is the aim of this part.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

20 Democracy and local power struggle

Around the world, national governments have devolved their administrative,fiscal and political responsibilities to lower-level government units for variousreasons (Falleti 2005; Lutz 2007). The rationale for decentralization varies acrossdifferent social, economic and political settings. With democratic reforms, variousforms of political decentralization have acquired greater significance compared toadministrative or fiscal decentralization.1 To many, decentralization promises toremedy the problems of an unresponsive central government by allowing moredirect participation at local levels. A common assumption is that decentralizationallows greater popular participation in public decision-making and undoubtedlyenhances the local government’s efficiency, responsiveness and accountability.

However, the outcomes of decentralization often turn out to be very differentfrom those originally intended. To be certain, there is no standard model or pathfor successful decentralization. Nonetheless, there are at least two factors thatgenerally affect the processes and outcomes of decentralization. On the one hand,rules and enforcement mechanisms determine, if only partially, the actual imple-mentation of decentralization. It is therefore important to examine “how the processof decentralization is structured and what the institutional framework looks like”(Lutz and Linder 2002, 2). With regard to the institutional framework for decen-tralization, another significant question is as to the sustainability of decentralizationreforms. The experiences of many countries have confirmed that central govern-ments tend to retain control, even in the context of decentralization initiatives. Ifmany powers are re-allocated via governmental regulations or ministerial decrees,for instance, those changes do not represent originally legislated reforms. As I shallshow, Indonesia’s decentralization, though ambitious and enthusiastic, has alsobeen challenged by national agencies’ reluctance to share power and authority withtheir local counterparts.

On the other hand, at local levels of governance, the outcomes of decentralizationhinge heavily on how local actors (with varying interests and capacities) shapeand respond to new opportunities. For this reason, the dynamics of decentralizationonly become more complicated when decentralization measures are adopted as away of consolidating a new democracy. As Hans Antlöv (2003, 84) points out,one of the main aims of decentralization is to deepen democracy “by bringingdecision-making closer to the people and producing more ‘rooted’ public policies.”Typically, elections are considered to be the mechanism that ensures downward,rather than upward, accountability in political decentralization. However, there isno inherent relationship between political decentralization and democracy.Although political decentralization can enhance the responsiveness, accountabilityand transparency of local governments, both international and Indonesia’s ownrecent experience warn us against unqualified optimism (Crook and Manor 1995;Kerkvliet and Mojares 1991; Trocki 1998; Sidel 1999; McVey 2000; Arghiros2001; Swianiewicz 2001; Bünte 2008). Assessing the actual effects of politicaldecentralization requires evidence and explanation going beyond the simplisticassumptions about the positive impact of formally democratic institutions andprocesses. Whether, how and with what consequences political decentralization

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 21

affects local political institutions and governance in Indonesia is an open questionand can be answered only by empirical analysis.

I limit the aim of this chapter to examining how the institutional framework—such as the rules of the game and enforcement mechanisms—has shaped newopportunities in the arena of direct elections of local government heads. Let us nowturn from the broad considerations about political change combined withdecentralization back to the central thesis of this chapter and consider the particularpath of decentralization that Indonesia has taken since its independence.

The Indonesian path of decentralization

Decentralization occurs in diverse political, economic and social settings that affectthe aim, substance, conduct and outcomes of decentralization measures. It is thusvery important to understand the circumstances under which decisions or policiesregarding decentralization are made and implemented.

Right after the fall of the highly centralized authoritarian New Order regime,Indonesia’s political leaders adopted, voluntarily or reluctantly, an extensive decen-tralization scheme as a way of consolidating the country’s new democracy.However, the country’s experience over the last decade confirms that the processand outcomes of decentralization ultimately hinge on the political and economicinterests as well as capacities of those who design and carry out the reforms, onthe one hand, and the interpretation and manipulation of local players, on the other.

In what follows, I investigate the historical background of the idea of decen-tralization in Indonesia, and the content and effects of the implementation ofregional autonomy outlined by Laws No. 22 and No. 25 of 1999. After a briefhistorical review, I provide the backdrop for the adoption of a direct election systemfor local government heads by examining the path of decentralization that Indonesiahas taken since May 1998. I show that, while the 1999 regional autonomy schemecertainly breathed dynamism into Indonesia’s local politics, it was also accom-panied by the prevailing of undemocratic practices, such as “vote-selling” by localassembly members in indirect local elections. Finally, I examine the birth of newregional autonomy laws, at the center of which is Law No. 32 of 2004 on regionaladministration, as one of the efforts of national leaders to reverse the unintendedeffects of the implementation of the previous regional autonomy laws.

Historical background

Historically, the idea of decentralization has been at the top of Indonesia’s politicalagenda since its independence. Law No. 1 of 1957 was designed to increase thepower of elected legislative assemblies in the provinces, districts and municipalities,and provided for the gradual elimination of the authority of the traditionalaristocratic-bureaucratic class (pamong pradja) (Feith 1962, 552). According tothis law, regents (bupati), mayors (walikota) and governors—the executive headsin the district, municipal and provincial levels of governance—would be elected

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

22 Democracy and local power struggle

and, thus, be held by party politicians and no longer by the civil service corps (Amal1994, 215).

However, this devolution of power did not take place largely due to regionalrebellions in the late 1950s, which eventually paved the way for the developmentof a highly centralized government. In early 1959, Soekarno initiated moves toconcentrate executive power in the hands of the president and issued a presidentialdecree (No. 6 of 1959) dissolving the Constituent Assembly and reintroducing the1945 Constitution on July 5, 1959. The decree also revoked the provisions of LawNo. 1 of 1957, allowing for the election of governors, who now were to be againappointed by the central government (Kahin 1994, 207–8; Amal 1994).

The New Order regime, which succeeded in exerting political pressure at all levelsof society through its hierarchical administrative system and the military’s territorialstructure, also applied some limited decentralization measures. Law No. 5 of 1974,the foundation of the New Order’s regional government system, designated locallegislative assemblies as a part of the provincial and district local government system.A local assembly, therefore, was chaired by a person elected from their ownmembers, but indirectly under the supervision of the formally elected governor,regent or mayor. Although some government functions were delegated to localgovernments, the degree of centralization actually increased with the central govern-ment agencies being present across the regions (Hidayat and Antlöv 2004, 269).

The central government dominated most local affairs, from the nomination oflocal government heads to the budget, favoring the government bureaucracy in itspower relations with local assemblies (Astuti 1994, 149). As a result, as admini-strative and fiscal centralization escalated, there was a growing resistance in severalregions outside Java to the consequent inefficiency stifling regional economicdevelopment. Correspondingly, some elements in the central government beganconsidering the need for some degree of decentralization in the 1990s (Kahin 1994,211; Aini 2002, 129–36). Despite the central government’s tight control, localgovernments were regarded as powerful by local populations because they wereoften the biggest employer and main channel of funds for infrastructure and eco-nomic development. In such a way, they reproduced patrimonial patterns of ruleat the local level, connecting bureaucrats with businesspeople and the military(Schulte Nordholt 2004, 36). Under these circumstances, the New Order’s collapsein May 1998 transformed not only the country’s political system but also centraland local government relations.2

Institutional rearrangements and local dynamics

B.J. Habibie’s interregnum government surprised both domestic and internationalobservers by adopting some basic, but significant, political reforms despite a highdegree of continuity of personnel from the Soeharto era. These included reformscontained in the regional autonomy laws (Laws No. 22 and 25 of 1999), whichsome hailed as a “governance revolution” (e.g., Betts 2003).3 Set as an importanttask of transforming politics, Indonesia’s decentralization scheme was indeedremarkable in that it devolved a wide range of power and authority over all fields—

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 23

except foreign affairs, defense and security, justice, monetary and fiscal policy,religion and a number of broad economic areas—to the district-level government.The Abdurrahman Wahid administration began to implement the two decen-tralization laws in January 2001.

Law No. 22 of 1999 on Local Governance transferred functions, personnel andassets from the central government to provincial as well as district and municipalgovernments.4 Law No. 25 of 1999 on Fiscal Balance between the Centre and theRegions aimed to empower and raise local economic capacities. While provincialgovernments had a dual status as autonomous regions and also as representativesof the central government, decentralization was focused on the district and muni-cipal levels. It assigned most functions to the district level, including the devolutionof expenditure responsibilities, public works, health, education and culture,agriculture, communications, industry and trade, capital investment, environment,land, cooperatives and manpower affairs.

It is interesting to note that Indonesia’s decentralization initially enhanced theposition of the legislature in relation to the executive. The 1999 regional autonomylaws particularly strengthened the position of the local assemblies (DewanPerwakilan Rakyat Daerah, DPRD) by giving them power to elect and hold localgovernment heads accountable, to initiate and promulgate statutes and regulationsand to approve budgets (Rasyid 2003, 64). This transfer of power marked the endof the central government’s right to intervene in appointing local officials, allowinglocal assemblies to gain substantive responsibility for electing and dismissing localgovernment heads.5 Local assemblies were now able to operate independent ofchecks. With the revitalized multi-party parliamentary politics and the substantiallyexpanded power of the local assemblies as a result of decentralization, partyrepresentatives in local assemblies emerged as the new local power-holders.

However significant, the implementation of regional autonomy laws createdsome problems of its own.6 Three points are worth addressing here. The first set ofproblems concerns budget. Decentralization in budgetary matters is largely limitedto expenditure, with no new revenue-raising power transferred to local govern-ments. Local governments responded by seeking out new sources of revenuethrough increasing local taxes and levies.7 This, in turn, generated growing concernsamong business groups and civil society organizations, which charged that theincreased enthusiasm of local governments to raise revenue diverted them from themain aim of decentralization. The introduction of new taxes and levies wasassociated with such old practices as corruption and favoritism in local politicalinstitutions.8

A second source of problems can be attributed to the central government’sinconsistency when it revoked several powers originally granted to the regionsand the ambiguity concerning authority relations (Ahmad and Hofman 2000, 6–7;Usman 2002, 5–6; Rasyid 2003, 67; Hidayat and Antlöv 2004, 279–80; Bünte 2008,110). A prime example of the former was the revocation of local responsibility forland management.9 The central government also had to clarify ambiguity regardingthe transition of power and authority relations. For example, the central governmentissued a regulation concerning “Supervision and Control of the Performance of

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

24 Democracy and local power struggle

Local Governments”10 after the implementation process revealed conflicts arisingfrom ambivalence regarding the division of power between provincial and districtor municipal administrations.

With respect to authority relations, the 1999 regional autonomy scheme muddledthe position of the provinces in relation to the districts and municipalities.Specifically, it confined provinces to the role of mediating disputes between districtsand municipalities, facilitating cross-district or municipal development andrepresenting the central government within the region. For their part, many districtand municipal governments tended to see themselves as subordinate to the centralgovernment rather than to the provincial government. Increasingly, provincial anddistrict or municipal levels of governance tended to ignore each other.11 In fact,although the focus of autonomy was the district-level government units, the autono-mous power of district or municipality was formally limited. Not only was thedevolution of functions selectively based on regional “preparedness,” but also thecriteria for assessing preparedness were far from clear. In response, many districtand municipal governments were reported to “have promulgated their own regu-lations, based largely on local interests or concerns rather than on national law orthe broader public interest” (Rasyid 2003, 67).12

A third and most important set of problems centered on the substantiallyexpanded power of the local assemblies in local politics. Although there were someencouraging signs showing a more accountable and democratic operation of localassemblies, increasing “money politics” cases, in which local assembly memberswere frequently involved, required special investigations into the actual changingpatterns of practices in local politics (Imawan 2002; Bünte 2008). The position oflocal executive officials became weakened in relation to local assemblies and, insome instances, local assemblies rejected the responsibility reports submitted bygovernors, regents or mayors at the end of each fiscal year, which sometimes ledto their dismissal. The strengthened local assemblies were supposed to revive andinstitutionalize responsive and efficient democratic institutions in the regions. Inpractice, however, under the changed power relationship, it was now local executiveofficials who had to use bribery or financial rewards as “the only effective meansof maintaining power” (Mietzner 2003, 245).13

Alongside this, the new role of local assemblies in electing and requiringaccountability from the local government heads also raised questions about whetherthe elections indeed benefited the majority of ordinary Indonesian people. Fromthe outset, local assemblies’ choices were accompanied by allegations that localgovernment leaders could win elections by buying votes from local assemblymembers and that many local government heads, no matter how they were elected,could secure their positions by bribing local assembly members (Rasyid 2003, 66;Isra 2005, 22). In many elections, local assemblies “inexplicably” elected unex-pected or controversial figures as governors, regents or mayors. Assembly membersfrequently disregarded their own parties’ candidates and vote for rivals who hadmostly won their support through bribery (Fealy 2001, 102).

This frequent vote-selling by local assembly members led to growing dis-illusionment and cynicism about political change and decentralization among the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 25

local populations. Accordingly, both international organizations and civil societyactivists began calling for a direct election system that they believed would makedirectly elected officials more responsive to local public interests (Asia Foundation2002; Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung and ADEKSI 2003). Domestic and internationalcritics alike voiced their concerns over the continuous, or even growing, distancebetween (indirectly) elected local officials and their constituencies.

Transition to a direct electoral system

A growing number of allegations of vote-selling by local assembly members inlocal executive elections rationalized the transition from indirect to direct electionsof local government heads. Additionally, there was pressure from internationaldevelopment organizations (e.g., the World Bank and the International MonetaryFund) that promoted direct elections of local government heads as a crucial wayof improving and strengthening local governance. Party leaders of major partiesinitially appeared intent on maintaining the indirect electoral system, which allowedonly party representatives in local assemblies to vote. But they had to adopt theproposal for a direct election system to achieve consistency with the four amend-ment packages of the 1945 Constitution made during 1999–2002.

In late 2002, the People’s Consultative Assembly (Majelis PermusyawaratanRakyat, MPR) revised the laws on political parties, general elections and thestructure and composition of the national (MPR, DPR—Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat(People’s Representative Assembly) and DPD—Dewan Perwakilan Daerah(Regional Representative Assembly)) and local assemblies (DPRD). In the revisedelection law, the national assembly adopted a direct election system for governmentheads at all levels of governance—from the president to mayors and regents. In2004, according to a new law on presidential election legislated in July 2003, thefirst direct presidential election was held in July and the run-off in September.14 InSeptember 2004, with direct local elections scheduled to begin in less than a year(June 2005), the national assembly rushed to revise the two regional autonomy lawsand legislated Law No. 32 of 2004 on Regional Administration and Law No. 33of 2004 on Fiscal Balance between the Centre and the Regions. The new laws came into effect in October 2004.

Law No. 32 of 2004 is designated to provide general guidelines for regionaladministration and division of governmental affairs. However, the law is con-troversial and has invoked much protest. It is quite ambiguous and confusing,opening itself to different interpretations and thus necessitating supplementaryexplanations and regulations. For example, unlike direct presidential election, directelections of local government heads are not included in the 1945 Constitution. AsAloysius Benedictus Mboi (2009, 46) points out, it keeps elections of localgovernment heads “susceptible to change, depending upon the political dynamicsof the time.” Furthermore, the law itself is incomplete. It stipulates that regulationson its implementation should be stipulated within two years after the enactment of the law (Article 238). One of such regulations is Governmental Regulation(Peraturan Pemerintah, PP) No. 6 of 2005 on the Election, Validation and

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

26 Democracy and local power struggle

Dismissal of Local Government Heads and a number of crucial questions remainunanswered. One of such questions is, as the Banyuwangi case in this book proves,“what happens after the election, when there is a conflict of agendas between thekepala daerah (local government head) and the DPRD which may be constitutedby opposing political parties?” (Mboi 2009, 46).

Even before its legislation, the law was already criticized and protested for itsinherent nuance of re-centralization. Critics argue that it regulates power sharingbetween Jakarta and the regions rather than regional autonomy per se, pointingout that it allows the central government to control some strategically importantsectors, including development policies, of local government units (Sijabat 2005;Haris 2005b; CETRO 2004; LIPI 2005). Some critics also point out that the newlaw on regional administration is contradictory in that, despite stronger legitimacy,directly elected local government heads have limited powers compared to thoseunder Law No. 22 of 1999 (Haris 2005b, 17).15 In short, besides being ambiguousand confusing, Law No. 32 of 2004 signals re-centralization. In this chapter, Idiscuss the law in relation only to direct local executive elections.

Direct local executive elections: rules and practices

To understand the process and outcomes of Indonesia’s first direct elections of localgovernment heads requires an appreciation of the formal institutions and electoralframework governing such elections. Although the outcomes of elections ultimatelyhinge on how local actors respond to new opportunities, rules and enforcementmechanisms still matter as far as they shape the arena for the electoral contest. Infact, as the following analysis will show, the electoral system of Indonesia’s directlocal executive elections is quite problematic, with many ambiguous and confusingstipulations in the law and its supplementary regulations, and a lot of controversiesover systemic issues.

Law No. 32 of 2004—specifically, Articles 56 to 119—provides the basicframework of direct local executive elections (pemilihan kepala daerah, or pilkadalangsung). After the first couple of years of controversies surrounding the conductand outcomes of elections, several changes were made (Laws No. 22 of 2007 andNo. 12 of 2008). The laws and supplementary regulations still conflict with eachother in many respects. For instance, Law No. 32 of 2004 stipulates that electionsof local government heads should be held six months prior to the end of the five-year term of the incumbents, while Law No. 22 of 2007 on Elections Administrationstates that it should be eight months. There are at least five issues that are essentialto understanding the electoral system of pilkada langsung.

First, direct local executive elections are not categorized as, or at least dif-ferentiated from, general elections. As a consequence, it is each local branch ofthe General Election Commission (Komisi Pemilihan Umum Daerah, KPUD) thatis designated to organize and stage elections. Law No. 32 of 2004 designates theHome Affairs Ministry as the coordinator of direct local elections and during thefirst round of elections, KPUD did not receive any centrally coordinated assistanceand monitoring from its parent organization, the General Election Commission

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 27

(Komisi Pemilihan Umum, KPU). However, Law No. 22 of 2007 allows the KPUto oversee all national and regional elections. No matter which institution overs-ees direct local elections, the question about the preparedness of KPUD remainsthe same in most regions. The 2004 law also stipulates that each KPUD has to be accountable to its respective local assembly (DPRD). This stipulation arousedconcerns about the fairness and impartiality of the elections. Later, the Con-stitutional Court ruled that KPUD should be accountable to the public, not to localassemblies. Nonetheless, each KPUD still has to be accountable to its respectivelocal assembly for the use of the budget for election, which is decided and monitoredby the local assembly.16

A second issue regarding the electoral system of direct local executive electionsis the attempt by political parties to strengthen their oligarchic control over localpolitical processes.17 According to the 2004 law, only political parties or partycoalitions seizing at least 15 percent of seats in local assemblies or having acquiredat least 15 percent of the valid vote in the parliamentary elections are eligible tonominate candidates for governors, mayors or regents (Article 59). Initially, theidea of allowing independent candidates to run for local government heads,suggested by the Ministry of Home Affairs and supported by diverse civil societyorganizations, was dropped during a discussion at the DPR.18 The law creditedpolitical parties as a major mechanism for recruiting political leaders and officials.This was changed by the Constitutional Court’s 2007 ruling (No. 5/PUU-V/2007),which was reflected in the second amendment to Law No. 32/2004 (Law No.12/2008). Independent candidates can contest elections of local government headsby directly garnering support among the local people, between 3 and 6.5 percentof the concerned locality’s population (Article 59, verses 2a, 2b, 2c, 2d, and 2e).The law was also amended to prevent political parties and candidates fromwithdrawing candidacy after the KPUD confirms the nomination (Article 62).19

The decision was hailed with the expectation that it would “give voters the chanceto vote for a figure not tied to a political party” and also to “put pressure on politicalparties to reform not just how they select candidates, but how they develop policyand differentiate themselves from one another” (Gross 2007). Contrary to theseoptimistic expectations, however, political parties seem to have continuously playeda vital role in the selection of candidates, in which money and networks tend todetermine the final decisions.20

It looks ironic now that political parties no longer seem to be an important elementin most Indonesians’ voting behavior, especially in direct local executive elections.According to a survey conducted by Kompas, one of Indonesia’s leading nationaldailies, for example, over a quarter of respondents (28 percent) chose politicalparties as a factor that they would consider in casting their votes in the comingdirect local elections (Kompas, February 14, 2005). The continuous monopoly ofpolitical parties over the selection and nomination of candidates in pilkada langsunghas also raised concerns that it would not reduce the instances of money politics,which was already embedded in local elections under the indirect electoral system.In another survey, the majority of respondents (81.9 percent) cited political partiesas one of the most corrupt political institutions alongside the national and local

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

28 Democracy and local power struggle

assemblies (83.9 percent) and local governments (82.7 percent) (Kompas, January9, 2006). Therefore, it is an irony that political parties still play gatekeepers in directlocal elections, while many Indonesian voters have lost their faith in political partiesas a satisfactory vehicle for representing citizens.

Experiences of holding the first round of direct elections proved concerns aboutmoney politics were legitimate. Financial contributions in exchange of “partytickets” quickly became a norm in direct local elections, which, coupled with thecampaigning cost, has made local elections highly costly political events. Accordingto one estimate, a gubernatorial candidate needs to spend around Rp. 100 billion(US$11 million), while a governor’s salary is around Rp. 8.7 million per month(The Jakarta Post, August 27, 2010). As local elections have become more costly,more and more cases of local budget corruption have been reported, which observersattribute to the system in which winners tend to recover the electoral costs fromthe local budget (ibid.).

A third issue concerning the institutional framework of pilkada langsung is thatLaw No. 32 of 2004 opened the possibility for the government to get involved inelectoral processes by stipulating that detailed guidelines for the preparation andimplementation of elections should be provided to KPUD through a governmentalregulation.21 A number of civil society organizations and experts, including RyaasRasyid, former director general of the regional autonomy at the Ministry of HomeAffairs (1999–2000), promptly criticized the law. They argued that the lawcontravened the amended 1945 Constitution because it allowed the government tointervene in the electoral process (The Jakarta Post, February 17, 2005; see alsoCETRO 2004).22

Five civil society organizations,23 16 provincial branches of the General ElectionCommission (KPUD) and leaders of small parties in North Sulawesi took the lawto the Constitutional Court for a judicial review (MK 072-073/PUU-II/2004 and005/PUU-III/2005). In early 2005, however, while the court was still holdinghearings, the Yudhoyono government announced PP No. 6 of 2005 on the Election,Validation and Dismissal of Local Government Heads. In March 2005, theConstitutional Court issued a ruling, bringing changes to some of the controversialstipulations. With the ruling, parties that do not even have any representatives atlocal assemblies can nominate candidates for governors, mayors and regents byforming a coalition with other parties in such a way that they garner 15 percent ofvotes in previous parliamentary elections. The court also ruled that KPUD shouldbe responsible to the public rather than to local assemblies. In response to the ruling,the central government issued a new governmental regulation (PP No. 17 of 2005)in April 2005. Nonetheless, as we shall see in the following chapters, many KPUDhave faced challenges stemming from local assemblies’ or local executives’attempts to intervene the electoral processes and outcomes.24

The same issues, particularly the challenge of updating the list of voters,reemerged when the second round began in May 2010 (The Jakarta Post, January2, 2010; April 3, 2010). The KPU decided to use the voters list used in the 2008presidential election as the preliminary list, as stipulated in Law No. 32 of 2004but the list was widely criticized and rejected by some parties for containing invalid

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 29

and inaccurate data. KPUD across the country have to upgrade the voters list byusing the population data provided by local governments but usually take the voterslist used in the last election due to limitations of manpower and resources.

A fourth issue concerning pilkada’s legal framework is that Law No. 32 of 2004only stipulates that, in case of conflict over the election results, the case should onlyconcern the result of vote counting and ought to be brought to the Supreme Court,which may delegate the power to resolve the cases of regent or mayoral electionsto the regional High Court. Concerned about the absence of an institutional conflictmanagement mechanism, the Supreme Court issued a regulation with regard toconflicts over the election results (Perma No. 1/2005) in April 2005 (revised asPerma No. 2/2005 in May). The Supreme Court’s regulation provides generalguidelines on how to submit a court action over the results of direct local executiveelections but fails to clarify the scope of authority that judges have in making theirdecisions.

Finally, Law No. 32 of 2004 has also invited criticism that it allows localassemblies to get involved in the electoral process. As stated earlier, with theConstitutional Court ruling, KPUD should be accountable to the public, not to localassemblies, but it still has to be accountable to its respective local assembly for theuse of the budget for election, which is to be decided and monitored by the localassembly. The law also specifies that local branches of the Election SupervisoryBoard (Badan Pengawas Pemilu, Bawaslu),25 which is to supervise the entireelectoral process, are formed by and report to local assemblies. This stipulationhas aroused concerns about possible pressure from political parties (throughintervention by their representatives at local assemblies) and thus, the impartialityof the elections. Before the second round of pilkada langsung, the national Bawasluwanted to reinstate the dissolved local monitoring bodies employed for the 2008general and presidential elections to speed up and simplify the recruitment process,but the Supreme Court issued an edict that allows local assemblies to establish localBawaslu bodies (The Jakarta Post, January 2, 2010).

Unsurprisingly, even before the first round of elections, controversies oversystemic issues, concerns over possible intervention by national agencies or localassemblies, and the overall ambiguity about rules and mechanisms threatened toundermine the smooth conduct of elections. Table 1.1 summarizes major phasesof Indonesia’s direct local executive elections on the basis of Law No. 32 of 2004(including amendments in Law No. 12 of 2008), Governmental Regulations Nos6 and 17 of 2005, the Constitutional Court’s ruling and the Supreme Court’sregulation.

Conclusion

Political decentralization in the course of rapid political change is generallyexpected to reduce the power of the central government and improve accountabilityof local institutions and directly elected politicians. It is also assumed to be ableto stimulate the reconstitution of political relations in the regions in terms of politicalparticipation. However, the practical effect of political decentralization has been

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

30 Democracy and local power struggle

different from the plan. Both international experience and Indonesia’s recent experi-ence have shown that it is quite unlikely that the designed rules and enforcementmechanisms will fully determine the actual implementation of decentralization.With its ambiguous and confusing rules and mechanisms, it is not surprising thatthe processes and outcomes of political decentralization ultimately depend on thepolitical aims of those who design the rules and enforcement mechanisms forpolitical decentralization and the political and economic interests of local playersinterpreting and responding to the rules and mechanisms on the ground.

As I have shown in this chapter, although the idea of holding direct elections of local government heads has received wide support from both internationalorganizations and domestic politicians, the path of decentralization that Indonesiahas taken since 1998 and the shortcomings of the institutional framework for

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Democracy and local power struggle 31

Table 1.1 Electoral system of Indonesia’s direct elections of local government heads

Phase of election Major points

Nomination of candidates • Parties or party coalitions that have acquired at least 15percent of the vote in previous parliamentary electionsor won at least 15 percent of seats in local assembliesare eligible to nominate candidates

• Minority parties that do not have any representatives inassemblies can also nominate candidates by forming acoalition with other parties

• Independent candidates can nominate themselves bydirectly garnering support among the local people,between 3 and 6.5 percent depending on the populationsize of the concerned locality

Registration and • Basically, provincial and district branches of the validation of candidates, General Election Commission (KPUD) are responsible campaigns, voting and for the entire electoral process, without any centrally counting of the vote coordinated assistance and monitoring

• KPUD should be accountable to the public• KPUD still has to be accountable to its respective local

assembly for the use of the budget for elections, whichis to be decided and monitored by the local assembly

Validation of election • To win an election, a pair of candidates has to win the results majority (at least more than 30 percent) of the valid vote

• They are to be inaugurated by the minister of homeaffairs on the basis of the president’s agreement

Supervision and conflict • Local branches of the General Election Supervisory management Board (Bawaslu) are to supervise the entire electoral

process• Local branches of Bawaslu should be formed by and

report to local assemblies• Cases of conflict over the election results should be

brought to the Supreme Court, which may delegate thepower to resolve the cases of regent or mayoralelections to the regional High Court

elections have indicated impending controversies and conflicts over the processesand outcomes of elections at the grassroots.

The initial round of direct local elections commenced in June 2005 and theinternational press generally covered those elections favorably. However, with itsvast size and social complexity, Indonesia’s experiences of holding hundreds ofseparate local elections have indeed been complex. Most elections have gonesmoothly and peacefully but there have been a number of cases that have generatedconsiderable controversy, too. In some instances, election controversies have evendrawn out large-scale public protests. There are a number of interesting cases thatdeserve close investigation for both diverse scholarly interests and practical effortsto improve the fairness and quality of future elections. As the groundwork forsuch empirical case studies, this chapter provided important insights into thebackground and institutional framework of those elections.

The overall problem with Indonesia’s direct local elections lies in its attempt toimplement political decentralization as a way of consolidating the country’s newdemocracy at local levels. Adopting direct local elections is just the beginning ofa long journey toward practically realizing such intended outcomes as moreresponsive and participatory local governance. In between these two ends, thereare historical reluctance to devolve power and authority, ambiguous and contro-versial rules and mechanisms, and politicians who are more interested in servingthemselves.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

32 Democracy and local power struggle

2 Winning mayorship by 21 votesYogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election*

In January 2001, the Indonesian government began devolving a wide range ofauthority to more than 360 district-level governments and assemblies, embracingthe long-standing aspirations of local communities to exercise greater control overtheir own political and economic affairs. Importantly, regional autonomy, orotonomi daerah, conferred on local governments an unprecedented degree ofautonomy in the country’s post-independence history. At the core of this trans-formation was the overhaul and revitalization of local parliamentary politics. InSeptember 1999, a provincial assembly and five district assemblies were formedin Yogyakarta as a result of the June general elections. Many people in the regionseemed to expect that the emergence of local assemblies as new loci of power wouldcreate and institutionalize more responsive and effectively representative politicalinstitutions in the region. However, as this chapter explains, political developmentsin Yogyakarta for the first couple of years actually diverged from the popularexpectations about more democratic—transparent, accountable and responsive—political processes. Instead, the regime change at the national level, the followingoverhaul of the political system and the devolution of authority to local politicalinstitutions seemed to have rather occasioned the development of undemocraticpolitical practices in local institutions.

This chapter examines a case of indirect election of local government head as acomparison of the following four direct election cases. More broadly, this chapterdescribes the early development of local politics amid nationwide processes ofdemocratic reforms and decentralization. It shows that something important wasmissing from many accounts of the early days of democratizing and decentralizingpost-Soeharto Indonesia: the persistent, reactivated and even institutionalizedundemocratic practices within local political institutions. It is important to rememberthat institutional reform brought by democratic transition and decentralization is notof itself a sufficient condition for significant attitudinal and behavioral changesamong those who operate the relevant institutions. In other words, formal democraticreforms and decentralized political decision-making do not themselves assure theinstitutionalization of democratic practices.

The immediate political developments following the 1998 regime change showthat the practical effects of the revitalization of multi-party parliamentary politicsin many regions did not always lead to transparent and accountable decision-

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

making. More specifically, the political experiences of Yogyakarta show a persis-tence of undemocratic practices in the region’s post-authoritarian party and parlia-mentary politics. Although undemocratic practices were not new to Indonesianpolitics, they were reactivated and institutionalized within local political institutionsthat claimed dramatically expanded influence over decision-making processes afterthe democratic transition.

The chapter is divided into four sections. I examine party politics in indirect localelections first because the process of selecting candidates was quite complicatedand requires understanding of the relationship between party representatives in the local assemblies and party functionaries on local boards of parties as wellas the power structure among parties within the assembly. The general organiza-tional structure and working mechanism of parties are explained. I then introduceYogyakarta’s political and social setting, focusing on the locality’s post-authori-tarian party and parliamentary politics and the Sultan’s political role as a specialfactor to the locality. In the third, I examine the case of the 2001 Yogyakarta mayoralelection from the perspective of why and how “money politics” affected the electionprocess. The 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election is a case in which the majorityparty’s candidates failed to be elected for a combination of various reasons. Oneof them was that party representatives failed to follow the official party line andpresumably sold their votes to rival candidates. There was also bitter internalfragmentation following rumors or suspicions about money politics involving someassembly members. More broadly, the election demonstrates the widespread impactof enduring undemocratic practices on democratic political institutions and thuslocal political developments. The electoral process, from the selection of candidatesto the validation of election results, is analyzed in order. Finally, I discuss therevitalization and institutionalization of money politics in local politics in a broadercontext of Indonesia’s post-authoritarian political and social change.

Party politics under the indirect electoral system

For three reasons, it is important to understand the organizational structure andworking mechanism of Indonesian political parties, which essentially show howelectoral politics were intertwined with party politics under the indirect electoralsystem. First, it was members of party fraksi, i.e., representatives of parties or partycoalitions in the assembly, who dominated the election process as only they hadthe right to nominate candidates who were selected through a process of politicalbargaining or “horse-trading.” Second, most political parties tried to control theirrepresentatives in the local assemblies through a mechanism in which provincialor district boards were supposed to instruct their assembly members at each level.Third, in practice, fraksi members often deviated from the official line of theirparties, especially when the political and economic stakes were high as in electionsfor local government heads. Figure 2.1 shows the organizational structure ofpolitical parties. This figure is based on the model of the Partai DemokrasiIndonesia-Perjuangan (PDI-P), but most political parties share the same basicstructure with slight differences in terms of labels for each level.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

34 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

In relation to party politics in indirect local elections, two points should be madeclear. The first one is a frequently found contradiction in the organizational manage-ment of parties. In principle, the provincial (Dewan Pimpinan Daerah, DPD) anddistrict boards (Dewan Pimpinan Cabang, DPC) made decisions with regard tothe political position of the party fraksi at each level of government, and thenobtained approval from their central boards (Dewan Pimpinan Pusat, DPP) inJakarta. However, in reality, it was sub-district boards (Pengurus Anak Cabang,PAC) that took a strategically important position as a basic unit of party organizationfor at least two reasons. One is that party representation in both national and localassemblies was based on the votes gained at this level in the 1999 general elections.Party cadres and ordinary members at this level often claimed that they deserveda bigger voice in return for their contribution during the general election. Therefore,top-down organizational management of political parties often led to the alienationof party cadres at this level. The other is that, in indirect local elections, most parties’selection of candidates usually began from the sub-district level. On the basis ofthe nominations suggested by sub-district boards, the district or provincial boardssuggested the names of candidates to the central board for final nomination.

A second point is that although party fraksi played a key role in decision-makingin local assemblies, they were supposed to follow the official line decided throughthe party’s structure, both bottom-up and top-down, even though the latter wasgenerally the normal mechanism. In practice, however, party representatives inthe local assemblies usually resisted, as far as possible, intervention by the partyorganization. They often argued that party cadres in the local chapters did not havesufficient experience and knowledge to instruct the assembly members. Thedilemma stemming from this uneasy relationship between party functionaries onthe local boards and those seated in the local assemblies was that, on the one hand,the former, especially those at sub-district level (PAC), felt that they were not

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 35

Figure 2.1 Organizational structure of political parties

DPP (central board)

PAC (sub-district board)

Ranting (village board)

DPD (provincial board) Fraksi at DPRD I

DPC (District board) Fraksi at DPRD II

rewarded enough for their contribution during the 1999 general election.1 On theother hand, party representatives in the local assemblies also argued that theirdaily tasks were heavy enough and that they did not receive enough support fromtheir own parties.

Therefore, we can identify at least two levels of conflict within political partiesin the early post-Soeharto years. One was the conflict between upper and sub-districtlevels within the party structure, and the other was between members of the partyfraksi in the local assemblies and party leaderships of the provincial and districtboards. While the central party boards tried to retain control over their local cadres,party representatives in the local assemblies sought to strengthen their politicalinfluence and access to economic benefits. In the middle, party functionaries at theprovincial and district levels were unable to exert their authority over partyrepresentatives in the local assemblies, while rank-and-file members in turn weredisappointed by the failure of party functionaries to appreciate their contributionduring the 1999 elections.

Yogyakarta: intersection between new and old politics

The Special Region (Daerah Istimewa) of Yogyakarta has a special place in thehistory of the Republic of Indonesia as the base for the fledgling nationalistgovernment during much of the revolution against the returning Dutch colonialforces. In the 1990s, Yogyakarta was often called a “city of learning” (kota belajar)and a “city of culture” (kota budaya), combining a patchwork of progressive-liberalintellectualism with a traditional-autocratic culture. In the turmoil of the last monthsof Soeharto’s authoritarian regime, the region became a stronghold for the reformasimovement calling for the overthrow of the authoritarian New Order. Many peopleof Yogyakarta take pride in the region’s social harmony that they attribute to therealm of culture, the character of the citizens and the integrity of the Sultanate(Susanto 1993, 11–12). In this section, I analyze Yogyakarta’s post-authoritarianparty and parliamentary politics, and the Sultan as a special factor to the locality’spolitics.

Yogyakarta’s post-authoritarian party and parliamentary politics

During the New Order, most members of the Yogyakarta provincial and municipalassemblies were Golkar representatives with backgrounds in the civil service orthe military. The composition of the assemblies changed drastically after the 1999election, not only in terms of party affiliation but also in terms of social and pro-fessional backgrounds. Most party representatives in post-Soeharto local assemblieswere regarded as “newcomers,” or pendatang baru, in terms of both party andparliamentary politics (ParWI 2001; Widodo 2003, 185).2 Most of them had notbeen active in political parties until the revitalization of multi-party politicsfollowing the fall of Soeharto.

Relatively educated and moneyed males composed around half of the member-ship in the provincial and municipal/district assemblies in Yogyakarta. Men made

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

36 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

up most of the membership in both the provincial and municipal assemblies.3 Thelevel of education was higher in the provincial, than in the municipal, assembly,three-quarters of provincial assembly members having degrees from tertiaryeducational institutes, while half of municipal assembly members had degrees. Interms of occupation, only a few—mainly from Golkar—had bureaucratic or militarybackgrounds. The majority of members were involved in the private sector oreducation. The largest category consisted of those engaged in the private sector asbusinesspeople—50.9 percent of the provincial and 67.5 percent of the municipalassembly—reflecting, even if indirectly, the expansion of business interests in localpolitics.4 The proportion of members with backgrounds in education was 12.7percent in the provincial, and 12.5 percent in the municipal assembly. Althoughthe majority of the national-level DPR members also had occupational backgroundsas entrepreneurs, bureaucrats and teachers, the distribution was different to thatfound in Yogyakarta. On the one hand, more than half (57.4 percent) of Golkarrepresentatives in the DPR were bureaucrats, over a fifth were entrepreneurs. Onthe other hand, almost half of PDI-P representatives were entrepreneurs, while morethan half of Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (PKB) representatives were teachers,mainly in higher institutions of learning. The proportion of entrepreneurs reachedone-third (31.3 percent) of DPR members, while that of teachers was around aquarter (23 percent) (Suryadinata 2002, 120–1).

Because many were new to politics and their parties had been newly formed,most assembly members lacked long-term commitment to their parties. Only afew assembly members in both the provincial and municipal assemblies expressedtheir ambitions to become professional politicians.5 This gave rise to negativeassessments of the new generation of post-Soeharto politicians. Some politicalanalysts criticized post-Soeharto politicians for regarding political parties as“political instruments” to further other, more private, objectives. They saw such a tendency as a source of unresponsiveness and unaccountability on the part ofmany party politicians.6 For example, R. Gonang Djuliastono, acting chairman of Yogyakarta’s provincial board of the Association of Indonesian YoungBusinessmen (Himpunan Pengusaha Muda Indonesia, HIPMI), commented thatwhen “those who have not yet succeeded in being established [mapan] in terms ofbusiness ascend to power as local assembly members, they usually tend to takeadvantage of the facilities there, not only salary but also a house and a car, etc.”7

Along similar lines, Halida R. Kusumaharta, chairwoman of the provincial branchof the Association of Indonesian Business Women (Ikatan Wanita PengusahaIndonesia: IWAPI), compared what she observed of local assembly members towhat she called the Javanese attitude of “grasping what they can when they can[aji mumpung].”8

In general the new politicians seemed to lack strong ideological commitment to their parties so that “the essence of everyday local politics” was “the fight forstrategic positions and resources” (Widodo 2003, 192). Representatives of the PDI-P in particular, as the majority party in both the national and many provincial anddistrict legislative assemblies, were the target of accusations of “economicopportunism.” It was also claimed that the PDI-P had appointed so-called “jumping

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 37

flea” (kutu loncat) cadres with little experience in the party to strategic positionswithout a proper selection process (Kompas, March 31, 2000).9 The PDI-P seemedto have acknowledged that these claims were not without foundation when itscentral board responded to the increased disappointment of its supporters bycarrying out several “caderization” (training) programs before and after the partycongress of March 2001.10 However, the party’s attempts to improve the qualityof its members appeared far from successful. Unhappy local cadres pointed out thatrecruitment and promotion to the commonly perceived “wet” (basah) positions inthe central leadership was still dominated by favoritism or patronage linkages.11

Thus, as long as the national leadership failed to reform itself, local cadres couldeasily excuse their undisciplined and even corrupt practices. The declining publicreputation of the political parties and their representatives in the assemblies wasfurther exacerbated by such undemocratic practices as money politics that continuedto determine daily features of democratic political institutions.

The significance of the Sultan

It is necessary to give some consideration to a special feature of the politics ofYogyakarta: the role of the Sultan. Sultan Hamengku Buwono X succeeded hisfather, Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX, in March 1989 (Kleden 1990, 351–5). Unlikeother Indonesian sultans and aristocratic rulers, Hamengku Buwono IX had sidedwith the nationalists against the Dutch during the revolution that broke out at theend of World War II and Yogyakarta had become the capital of the nationalist forcesfor the duration of the revolution. In recognition of the Sultan’s support, Yogyakartawas granted special status as a separate province and not merged with thesurrounding province, Central Java, after independence. As a result, the Sultan ofYogyakarta enjoyed wide respect throughout Indonesia and near-mythical statusin Yogyakarta itself.

The political culture of Yogyakarta is centered on the Kraton (palace) and hasoften been seen as enabling the emergence of effective leadership in a time ofcrisis (Skinner 1959; Mas’oed, Panggabean and Azca 2001). Sultan HamengkuBuwono IX was an intellectual, educated in the Netherlands, and later became aninfluential political figure in the early post-independence period.12 During theGuided Democracy period he served as Minister and Chairman of the State AuditBoard (Badan Pemeriksa Keuangan: BPK) in the Working Cabinet (Kabinet Kerja)formed in July 1959 by Soekarno as Prime Minister and Djuanda as “First Minister.”He was also appointed as one of three deputy prime ministers in charge of economic,financial and development affairs after the fall of Soekarno in 1966, and was electedby the MPR as Vice President when President Soeharto was re-elected for hissecond term in March 1973.

Sultan Hamenguku Buwono X emerged as a national figure just after the NewOrder regime had begun to crumble, playing a similar role that his father playedduring the revolution by standing above the conflicting interests surrounding theimpending and possibly drastic changes in the political arena. Although he wasthe chairman of Golkar’s provincial board, he made clear his sympathy for the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

38 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

reformasi movement by calling for the end of the authoritarian regime during thelast weeks leading to Soeharto’s resignation on May 21, 1998, while at the sametime showing his concern to prevent violence breaking out in Yogyakarta. Forexample, on May 15 when student demonstrations against Soeharto ignited riots,the Sultan mediated between police and students and succeeded in defusing thesituation by persuading students to march back to Gadjah Mada University. OnMay 20, 1998, when hundreds of thousands of people from Yogyakarta marchedto the town square located in front of the Sultan’s palace (alun-alun), the Sultanopened it to demonstrators and declared with Paku Alam VIII13 that the YogyakartaKraton supported the reformasi movement and asked the military to avoidconfrontation with demonstrators.14 Although he appeared hesitant to take a firmposition, the Sultan gradually emerged as an alternative leader on the national stagein the post-reformasi era, in particular by joining the “Ciganjur Four Meeting” onNovember 10, 1998 with the three other major pro-reform figures: AbdurrahmanWahid, Megawati Soekarnoputri and Amien Rais.15

In October 1998, the provincial assembly elected the Sultan as the Governor ofYogyakarta and he has since continued to occupy a special position in local andnational politics—this has no parallel in other regions. Building on the charismaticaura of his father, he has succeeded in restoring some of the royal powers that hadbeen in abeyance during the 1990s, but his authority is by no means unquestioned.He has failed to garner support from national politicians to his intention to remainas life-term governor, which was proposed in a draft law on the autonomy ofYogyakarta (Rancangan Undang-Undang Keistimewaan Yogyakarta).16 His namewas discussed as a presidential or vice-presidential candidate in 2004 and 2009but never made it to the ballots. In any discussion of Yogyakarta politics, however,the role played by the Sultan cannot be overlooked.

The 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election

The 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election process began with the establishment of aspecial committee in the municipal assembly to draft electoral rules and then anelection committee in May 2001 (Table 2.1). The election committee consisted offour sub-committees—registration, selection, implementation and inauguration—each of which was composed of nine assembly members. The chairman and threedeputy chairmen of the assembly were in charge of supervising all four sections.Unusually, the election committee was composed of all 40 members, compared toother district assemblies that generally formed much smaller election committees.17

Selection of candidates

As shown in Table 2.1, there were two phases of the selection of candidates formayor and deputy mayor. Only parties in the assembly could nominate candidates.Anyone who wanted to become a candidate for either of the two positions couldapply to one or more political parties. This phase worked as “pre-screening” fornomination. Individuals seeking to get a nomination from a certain party might

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 39

have a strong connection with that party, but the final decision for official candidacywas in the hands of the party representatives in the assembly—in principle, withthe agreement of the party’s district board. After considering the applicationsthrough several internal tests, each political party usually nominated two pairs ofcandidates. This was for tactical reasons. In a context where no single party had amajority of seats, the nomination of two sets of candidates provided room forbargaining with other parties in order to form a winning coalition. Then, the electioncommittee of the assembly, consisting, in the case of the Yogyakarta municipalassembly, of the entire membership of the assembly, selected a shortlist amongthe nominated pairs of candidates. Normally the pairs were made up of a mayoralcandidate from one party and a deputy from another allied party.

From June 8 to 28, 2001, 49 candidates for mayor and deputy mayor registered.There were no restrictions on eligibility, although candidates who were still activemilitary officers or civil servants, including parliamentarians, were required to

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

40 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

Table 2.1 Timetable of the 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election

Date Activity

Selection June 8–28 Registration (Pendaftaran)June 21–8 Compilation of dossiers (Penyusunan Berkas)June 28 Transfer of documents to the fraksi leaderships

(Penyerahan Dokumen kepada Pimpinan Fraksi)June 28–July 11 First phase of screening (Penyaringan Tahap I)July 16–28 Second phase of screening (Penyaringan Tahap II)July 30–Aug. 4 The last phase of determining a pair of candidates:July 30 • Coordinating meeting of fraksi leaderships

(Rakoordasi Pimpinan Fraksi)July 31–Aug. 4 • Presentation of vision and mission

(Penyampaian Visi dan Misi)August 4 • Coordinating meeting of fraksi leaderships

(Rakoordasi Pimpinan Fraksi)August 4 • Determination of a pair of candidates by each

party (Penetapan Pasangan Calon)

Campaigns August 6–14 Announcement to governor and governor’sresponse (Pemberitahuan kepada Gubernur danJawaban Gubernur)

Voting August 15 Plenary session for voting (Rapat ParipurnaPemilihan)

Public test and August 16–18 Public test (Pengujian Publik)inauguration August 20 Determination of elected candidates (Penetapan

Calon Terpilih)August 22 Dispatch of dossier regarding the result of voting

(Pengiriman Berkas Hasil Pemilihan)September 17 Inauguration (Pelantikan)

Source: “Pengumuman No. 1/V/2001 Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah Kota Yogyakarta”(Announcement No. 1/V/2001 of the Yogyakarta Municipal Assembly, May 28, 2001).

resign in the event that they were later elected as mayor or deputy mayor. Thus, inprinciple, anyone could register as a potential candidate (bakal calon). However,applicants must then get official endorsement by at least one party fraksi. Afterregistering, the potential candidates had to undergo psychological and other testsconducted by parties.18

In terms of party organization, the party’s district leadership, not its represen-tatives within the assembly, held the decision-making authority on the selection offinal candidates. That was why parties, not fraksi, implemented the tests. Thosewho succeeded in being selected then became official candidates of party fraksi.Candidates were to be nominated as pairs for the positions of mayor and deputymayor, and there were six fraksi in the Yogyakarta municipal assembly: threesingle-party fraksi (FPDI-P, Fraksi Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan(Indonesian Democracy Party of Struggle), FAN, Fraksi Amanat National (NationalMandate Party) and FPG, Fraksi Partai Golkar (Golkar Party)), two coalition-blocsconsisting of several small parties (FKDK, Fraksi Kebangkitan Demokrasi &Keadilan (Democracy and Justice Awakening Coalition) and FPI, Fraksi PersatuanIslam (Islamic Unity Coalition)), and the military–police fraksi (TNI, TentaraNasional Indonesia (Indonesian National Army)/Polri, Kepolisian Negara RepublikIndonesia (Indonesian National Police)) (Table 2.2).

Each party fraksi was eligible to nominate two pairs of candidates in the firstphase of the process, so that in principle, there could be 12 different pairs ofcandidates. However, as a result of separate screening and very likely through

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 41

Table 2.2 Party fraksi in the Yogyakarta municipal assembly (1999–2004)

Party fraksi Composition (seats)

Indonesian Democracy Party of Struggle PDI-P (15)(Fraksi Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan, FPDI-P)

National Mandate Party (Fraksi Amanat PAN (9)National, FAN)

Golkar Party (Fraksi Partai Golkar, FPG) Golkar (4)

Democracy and Justice Awakening PKB, National Love Democracy Party Coalition (Fraksi Kebangkitan Demokrasi (Partai Demokrasi Kasih Bangsa, PDKB) & Keadilan, FKDK) and Justice and Unity Party (Partai

Keadilan dan Persatuan, PKP) (4)

Islamic Unity Coalition (Fraksi United Development Party (Partai Persatuan Islam, FPI) Persatuan Pembangunan, PPP), Crescent

Star Party (Partai Bulang Bintang, PBB)and Justice Party (Partai Keadilan, PK)(4)

Military and Police (Fraksi TNI & Polri, Indonesian National Army (Tentara FTNI/Polri) Nasional Indonesia, TNI) and Indonesian

National Police (Kepolisian NegaraRepublik Indonesia, Polri) (4)

bargaining between parties, five party fraksi nominated seven pairs of mayoraland deputy mayoral candidates on July 30, 2001. The sixth fraksi, the military–police fraksi, declared itself neutral during the election process. Every other fraksinominated two pairs of candidates, but three pairs were supported by more thanone fraksi (Table 2.3) resulting in seven pairs. With no party fraksi holding an absolute majority in the assembly, this strategy opened the possibility fornegotiating or bargaining with other fraksi. For example, the FPDI-P nominatedEndang Dharmawan (PDI-P) and Haryo Sasongko (Golkar) for the mayoral positionand M. Wahid (FKDK) for the deputy mayoral position. On the other hand, theFAN nominated Herry Zudianto (Partai Amanat Nasional, PAN) as mayor andboth Syukri Fadholi (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan, PPP) and BambangPurwoatmojo (Golkar) as deputy mayor.

From July 31 to August 4, each pair of candidates presented their programs forthe development of the Municipality of Yogyakarta in the form of “statements oftheir vision and mission” (penyampaian visi dan misi) in front of all 40 assemblymembers and a public audience. The political parties tried to find a commonplatform with other parties on which to build a coalition and win the election.Finally, the election committee selected three pairs on August 4, 2001 for the finalround (Table 2.4).

Campaigning for 21 votes

As the election took place in the assembly, the candidates did not need to campaignfor the support of a broad range of constituents. They focused their energy onwinning over votes from party members whose parties were committed to othercandidates. This included political horse-trading and offers of various incentives.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

42 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

Table 2.3 Candidates nominated by party fraksi

Fraksi Component party Candidates for Candidates for deputy or parties (seats) mayor mayor

FPDI-P PDI-P (15) Endang Dharmawan Muhamad WahidHaryo Sasongko Muhamad Wahid

FAN PAN (9) Herry Zudianto Syukri FadholiHerry Zudianto Bambang Purwoatmojo

FPG Golkar (4) Haryo Sasongko Bambang PribadiHerry Zudianto Bambang Purwoatmojo

FPI PPP, PBB and PK (4) Herry Zudianto Syukri FadholiB. Soepijanto Suwandono

FKDK PKB, PDKB and PKP (4) Endang Dharmawan Muhamad WahidHerry Zudianto Bambang Subandang

FTNI/ Armed Forces and No nominationPolri Police (4)

Source: Secretariat of municipal assembly and Bernas (July 31, 2001).

Even before the campaign period, the election already begun to be tarnished byissues of money politics and questions about the qualifications of certain candidates.

First, several controversial issues surfaced during the presentation of statementsabout vision and mission, mostly related to the eligibility of particular candidatesand suggestions of money politics, particularly involving the PDI-P members.One controversy surrounded the background of Endang Dharmawan, the PDI-P’smayoral candidate. PDI-P supporters were divided into several groups because itwas the party organization through the district board (DPC) that selected EndangDharmawan as the party’s official candidate, while many of the party’s fraksimembers (FPDI-P) did not agree with his candidacy. The FPDI-P was reluctant tosupport Endang Dharmawan as the party’s official candidate for several reasons.First of all, he had never been active in the party before, and it was claimed thathe was hardly known to the people of Yogyakarta. The FPDI-P’s members arguedthat the party should be able to find a more promising candidate among well-knownparty cadres. Second, there was an inherent potential conflict between the DPCand the FPDI-P in that FPDI-P members had to be more attentive to the generalopinions and emotions of their supporters at the grassroots—that is, PAC. However,in terms of the party’s organizational structure, it was the DPC, not the party fraksiat the assembly, which had the final word on the party’s preferred candidate.19

Meanwhile, local journalists who covered the election process questionedEndang Dharmawan’s background as a retired military officer and the basis of hiswealth. According to his curriculum vitae, Endang Dharmawan had worked at thePlanning Center for Administrative Development of the Army (Perencanaan PusatPengembangan Administrasi Angkatan Darat) as a bureau head (Kabiro) fromDecember 1979 until he retired in April 1989. At the time he ran for the Yogyakartamayorship, he introduced himself as a businessman having companies in KualaLumpur, Jakarta and Yogyakarta. The regional office of the Chamber of Commerceand Industry (Kamar Dagang dan Industri Daerah, Kadinda), however, doubtedthis, pointing out that he had no track record in business.20 Thus, his selection asthe party’s official candidate raised suspicions.

He was also a newcomer (pendatang) to the city. Many people believed that hecould not have made it without bribing some, if not all, the PDI-P’s sub-districtlevel cadres as well as some members of the party fraksi (FPDI-P) in the assembly,who could influence the party’s official candidacy for the election. According to

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 43

Table 2.4 Candidates selected by the Election Committee

Fraksi Names of candidates

FPDI-P Endang Dharmawan/Muhamad WahidFKDK Endang Dharmawan/Muhamad WahidFAN Herry Zudianto/Syukri FadholiFPI Herry Zudianto/Syukri FadholiFPG Haryo Sasongko/Bambang PribadiFTNI/Polri No nomination

Source: Secretariat of municipal assembly and Bernas (August 5, 2001).

local media, such as Bernas and Kedaulatan Rakyat, and civil society activists,represented by Parliament Watch Indonesia (ParWI; a parliament watchdog organ-ization in Yogyakarta), 11 chairmen of the party’s sub-district boards were sus-pected of receiving bribes in the form of motorbikes from Endang Dharmawanbefore they attended the district board’s working session (rapat kerja cabang). Itwas alleged that the motorbikes were only partly paid for and the rest would bepaid when he got elected. The same trick was used to bribe some functionariesamong district-level cadres. The working session eventually decided on EndangDharmawan and Muhamad Wahid as the party’s official candidates from the 11candidates who had applied.

The fact that there were some prominent party cadres, including Cinde LarasYulianto, chairman of the party fraksi (FPDI-P) in the municipal assembly, andAndrie Subiyantoro, chairman of the district board (DPC), who were defeated inthe party’s selection process by Endang Dharmawan deepened internal conflict andmutual mistrust. Cinde Laras Yulianto took pride in having been involved in thePDI-P since his student days as a member of the Indonesian Students’ NationalMovement (Gerakan Mahasiswa Nasional Indonesia, GMNI) and some other sub-organizations of the PDI until 27 July 1996.21 However, he failed to get a recom-mendation from his own political base, the sub-district board of Gondomanan. Afterthe selection, he complained that it did not make sense that the PDI-P as the majorityparty could not find any cadres among its own members to nominate from withinthe party.22 Neither could Andrie Subiyantoro get support from the district boardcadres. The PDI-P of Yogyakarta Municipality fragmented into several factions:Endang’s supporters, Cinde Laras’ faction and some other sub-district level cadresrepresented by T.H. Sunardjono, one of the party’s experienced politicians.23

In this circumstance, Endang Dharmawan made a critical mistake by statingthat he could afford to buy Yogyakarta if the city could be bought (seandainyaYogyakarta hendak dijual, saya mampu membeli kok), giving rise to criticism fromthe grassroots as well as many respected local figures (Bernas, August 2, 2001).The statement was unacceptable to most “original” Yogyakarta people and SultanHamengku Buwono X, governor of Special Region of Yogyakarta, dismissedEndang’s attitude as “unsuitable” (tidak pas) (Bernas, August 3, 2001). As thepublic criticism mounted, some FPDI-P members claimed that the party had toreconsider his candidacy and replace him.

On August 8, hundreds of local people demonstrated in front of the City Halldemanding more transparent electoral processes. This could be interpreted indiverse ways. It is possible that some local people who were concerned about theelectoral process initiated the demonstration. Another possibility is that some partyfunctionaries who were worried about the negative image caused by EndangDharmawan might have mobilized it. In any case, responding to the demonstration,FPDI-P chairman Cinde Laras Yulianto announced that the PDI-P’s district board(DPC) had canceled Endang Dharmawan’s candidacy (Bernas, August 8, 2001),but it later turned out that the meeting of the district board had not had a quorum,demonstrating deep fragmentation within the leadership on the district board.Another problem was that the party could not cancel Endang Dharmawan’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

44 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

candidacy without holding a plenary session of the assembly. To withdraw itscandidate the PDI-P would need the support of at least another party fraksi in theassembly. Meanwhile, the party fraksi in the assembly and the district board of theparty tried to find possible ways out of the deadlock and the most acceptable solutionwas to get a recommendation or instruction from the party’s central board (DPP)in Jakarta.

The timing was not helpful to the district board because at that moment the centralboard of the party was busy constructing the cabinet for Megawati Soekarnoputriwho had just taken over as president. Some FPDI-P members said that the centralboard did not want to back any of the candidates suggested by the district board.Endang Dharmawan was not familiar to PDI-P cadres, let alone to the Yogyakartapublic, while Haryo Sasongko, the party’s other candidate, had previously beenactive in Golkar, one of the PDI-P’s rivals, despite his good reputation as anacademic and a lawyer.24 From this viewpoint, it is noteworthy that as a provincialassembly member representing the PDI-P bitterly pointed out, the ultimate problemof the PDI-P before and during the election was that there were no qualified cadresfor the mayoral position within the party.25

According to Tatang Setiawan, secretary of the party’s provincial board (DPD)and also a provincial assembly member, the recommendation letter was finallydelivered by Gunawan Wirosaroyo from Jakarta the night before voting day.However, it was too late to change the situation, not just to win the election butalso to resolve internal conflicts within the municipal chapter of the PDI-P. Nobodywas reported to have met the Jakarta representative to learn who the central boardrecommended.26 According to some other sources, the candidate recommended formayor by the party’s central board was Haryo Sasongko, but this information wasa little dubious, considering that he had been active in Golkar and apparently madeno effort to build a coalition with the PDI-P.

On August 13, 2001, two days before the election, the party fraksi in the assemblyannounced the decision of the district board to boycott the election and asked itsmembers not to attend the plenary session on August 15. It also warned its membersthat it would apply sanctions if they did not follow the instruction. The decisionwas made by the district board, but again the meeting did not have the requiredquorum, so it left a question as to whether the decision was legitimate or not. The next day, August 14, 2001, however, 11 among 14 sub-district branches inYogyakarta municipality stated that party fraksi members had to attend the plenarysession, and even warned that they would pick each one up from their houses andtake them to the City Hall on voting day (Bernas, August 15, 2001). This actionsuggested that despite the disappointing performance of Endang Dharmawan duringthe campaign, the sub-district cadres still wanted him to win and were ready tocompel the party representatives to attend the final voting.

Voting

Eventually, on August 15, 2001, 11 of 15 FPDI-P members attended the voting,but they came to the City Hall on their own, without the assistance of the sub-district

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 45

branches. Bachtanisyar Basyir, chairman of the municipal assembly and a memberof FPDI-P, justified his attendance at the voting by pointing out that it was whathis constituents wanted him to do (Kompas, August 18, 2001). In the first roundof voting no pair won the required absolute majority. The Endang–Wahid pairnominated by the PDI-P ranked second with 13 votes, while the Herry–Syukripair nominated by the PAN and the FPI coalition (including PPP) received 16 votes.After intensive political lobbying and bargaining, the Herry–Syukri pair eventuallywon 21 votes in the second round against the Endang–Wahid pair with just 14 votes(Table 2.5). On the one hand, the final deal indicated that assembly members hadkept open their options for negotiation until the last moment. On the other hand,it seemed that money politics practices had blurred all the possible predictions aboutwho would eventually win the election.

An analysis of the election shows that the determining votes were in the handsof the party fraksi of Golkar and the armed forces/police whom PAN had suc-cessfully won over. Interviews with some PAN functionaries after the electionrevealed that PAN succeeded by promising Golkar the position of deputy chairman(wakil ketua) of the municipal assembly, which had previously been occupied byPPP and PKB.27 Before the election, many sources pointed out that a PAN candidatehad a poor chance of winning. For the PDI-P, the majority party in the assemblywith 15 seats, it should not have been too difficult to obtain six more votes. However,Herry Zudianto, as a prominent local businessman, seemed to have attracted supportfrom local business groups. Furthermore, his party was successful in reaching anagreement with rival party fraksi at the last moment while the PDI-P, the majorityparty at the assembly, was severely fragmented and unable to negotiate with a singlevoice.

Public test and inauguration

Based on the Governmental Regulation No. 151 of 2000 (Articles 25 and 29), thelocal public could complain against the election of the mayor or deputy mayor byfiling a challenge through a registered organization within three days of the voting.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

46 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

Table 2.5 Results of Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

Pair of candidates First round Second round

Endang Dharmawan 13 14Muhamad Wahid

Herry Zudianto 16 21Syukri Fadholi

Haryo Sasongko 7 –Bambang Pribadi

Total 36 35

Source: “Risalah Rapat Paripurna Khusus DPRD Kota Yogyakarta Tentang Pemilihan Walikota danWakil Walikota Yogyakarta 2001–2006” (one vote was invalid in the second round).

However, complaints about money politics should be supported by the writtentestimony of more than two assembly members. The final decision whether the caseshould be pursued or not had to be decided by the assembly, not by the judiciary.

On August 16, the day after voting, cadres from the Forum for Communicationof PDI-P’s Sub-district Boards (Forum Komunikasi PAC PDI-P Kota) asked theleadership of the district board to take responsibility for the defeat and to hold aspecial meeting (konferensi cabang khusus). The special meeting was not convened,signaling that the PDI-P in Yogyakarta municipality still could not resolve itsinternal conflicts. In an interview soon after the voting, Cinde Laras Yulianto saidthat the FPDI-P was considering bringing the money politics cases to court.28

However, it was mainly local civil society organizations that led the publicmovement to take legal action. During the period of public test (pengujian public),ParWI and the regional branch of the Foundation of Indonesian Legal Aid Institute(Yayasan Lembaga Bantuan Hukum Indonesia, YLBHI) provided some evidenceof money politics on Endang Dharmawan’s part. They claimed that he bought hiscandidacy by bribing some of PDI-P cadres before the district board’s workingsession. Triyandi Mulkan, one of the defeated party candidates and director of theInstitute for Legal Protection (Lembaga Pembela Hukum, LPH), brought this caseto court and claimed that Endang Dharmawan’s candidacy was illegitimate.29

Meanwhile, Muhamad Wahid, Endang’s partner as the candidate for deputy mayor,admitted that he and Endang had given money to the armed forces and policefraksi (FTNI/Polri).30 The two persons who acted as brokers and the chairman ofFTNI/Polri confirmed Muhamad Wahid’s confession.31 ParWI claimed that it wasEndang Dharmawan himself who disclosed to the local media that he had givenRp. 100 million to each FTNI/Polri member (in total Rp. 400 million to four mem-bers of the FTNI/Polri). ParWI also claimed it had evidence that Rp. 200 millionwas passed to Col. Soroso S., chairman of the FTNI/Polri. Despite all the effortmade by local media and civil society activists, the municipal assembly declinedto investigate the cases. In any case, even if the allegations were true, it seemedthat the four FTNI/Polri members did not vote for the PDI-P candidates.

The case of the Yogyakarta mayoral election revealed that the public testing infact hardly worked at all as it was limited to three working days and, moreover,people had to be members of an officially registered organization to be eligible tosubmit a complaint. Even then, the final decision of whether to investigate or notwas still in the hands of assembly members. Only if the election committee decidedto hold a plenary session could the assembly members discuss the case.32 In thisinstance, it was not surprising that the election committee composed of all 40assembly members did not bring the money politics cases into a plenary session.In fact, if the guidelines specified in the Governmental Regulation No. 151 of2000 on local elections were followed, the municipal assembly should have helda second plenary session to examine the issue. The elected mayor and deputy mayortook their oaths on September 17, 2001.

There can be several different interpretations of the PDI-P’s loss and thePAN–PPP coalition’s victory in this election. First, the PDI-P was badly factional-ized due to Endang Dharmawan’s suspicious background and his controversial

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 47

statements, lack of mutual trust and the breakdown in coordination between thedistrict board and the party fraksi, and the poor communication between the centralboard and sub-national branches within the party.33 On the other hand, other politicalparties, including the PAN, were compelled to spend much more energy and usemore resources to win the election as the PDI-P had won elections for the regionalheads in four other districts in Yogyakarta province. People in Yogyakarta andsome party cadres also talked of a conspiracy in which Golkar had manipulatedthe fragmentation of the PDI-P by encouraging Endang Dharmawan to apply forthe party’s candidacy. This suspicion could not be proven. However, EndangDharmawan’s dubious history and his controversial statements during the electionwere not inconsistent with this theory.

Many other rumors regarding money politics in this election circulated inYogyakarta, but it was almost impossible to get a clear picture of events due to thelack of transparency of the electoral system itself. As a matter of fact, mostpoliticians I met were not hesitant to define politics of the reformasi era as politicsof UUD, ujung-ujungnya duwet, which means that the ultimate purpose of politicswas money. Duwet is a Javanese word for money, while UUD are the initials forthe 1945 Constitution (Undang-Undang Dasar), widely acknowledged as thephilosophical foundation of Indonesian politics since independence. This cynicalpun on post-authoritarian politics reflected the emergence of local assemblies as anew locus for money politics.

Meanwhile, the internal conflict within the PDI-P of Yogyakarta municipalityseemed to continue to worsen.34 In responding to public criticism, the FPDI-P madeseveral gestures, including an attempt to lobby the Minister of Home Affairs notto recognize the election results. However, they learnt that the Minister had alreadysigned the necessary document when the FPDI-P delegates were still in Yogyakartabefore leaving for Jakarta. In another attempt, some of the FPDI-P members triedto boycott the inauguration ceremony of the elected mayor and deputy mayor, butthe then deputy secretary-general of the party’s central board, Pramono Agung,asked the party representatives to attend the ceremony, pointing out that theremaining task was to consolidate the party organization, implement cadrizationand prepare for the 2004 general elections (Bernas, September 17, 2001).35

Eventually, 11 among 15 FPDI-P members attended the inauguration ceremony.36

As a consequence, the party fraksi only invited more cynical gossip among membersof different party fraksi and grassroots supporters (Bernas, October 3, 2001).

A year after the Yogyakarta mayoral election, Endang Dharmawan reappearedin several national media covering the 2002 Jakarta gubernatorial election. Thistime he sought the nomination of the PDI-P against the favorite, Sutiyoso, theincumbent governor, and, unsurprisingly, was reported to have given 10 separatechecks worth Rp. 450 million to members of the PAN fraksi. However, as one ofseven gubernatorial candidates, Endang Dharmawan received just one vote in thefinal selection by the election committee (TempoInteraktif, August 2, 2002;Kompas, August 30, 2002; The Jakarta Post, September 24, 2002). It was notclear why, despite his money politics record during the 2001 Yogyakarta mayoralelection, he could run again for the Jakarta gubernatorial candidacy. Both national

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

48 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

and local media suspected that he had never meant to pursue an official positionsuch as mayor or governor, and he rather appeared to have been encouraged, orhired, for the purpose of concealing real political transactions behind the scenes inboth the 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election and the 2002 Jakarta gubernatorialelection.

Reactivation and decentralization of “money politics”

The 2001 Yogyakarta mayoral election is not the only case of money politics. Infact, as the former Minister of Regional Autonomy Ryaas Rasyid pointed out, theterm “money politics” became closely attached to almost all gubernatorial as wellas regent/mayoral elections, but ironically, none of these allegations had beenproven, and no alleged corruptor had yet resigned or been forced from office (Rasyid2003, 66). It seems that the fall of the authoritarian regime and the followingdissolution of Soeharto’s hierarchical patronage system reactivated and dispersedmoney politics into the regions. While local assemblies grew as new loci of power,there was much less effort to monitor and control the actual use of the devolvedpower. Legal restraints regarding the practices of money politics still played anegligible role and more significantly many local party politicians showed aninclination to equate their expanded power with correspondingly increased financialrewards.

On the one hand, many local assembly members who were interviewed inYogyakarta often criticized without any hesitation the institutions they wererepresenting. For instance, Krisnam, the then chairman of the Commission ofGovernance in the provincial assembly, criticized local assemblies for becoming“the main source of corruption” (biang korupsi) (Bernas, February 25, 2002). Onthe other hand, local assembly members also frequently appeared to take for grantedreceiving money made available from outside their official budget as a result oftheir far strengthened bargaining position vis-à-vis their executive counterparts. Asan example, Agus Sunarto, a provincial assembly member, argued that “receivinggifts from the executive is just natural (wajar saja) because we are workingpartners” (Bernas, November 26, 2002).

Meanwhile, strong commitment to their parties or their grassroots supportersseemed rare. Instead, an unspoken argument seemed accepted that political partieswere just instruments for obtaining political influence and accompanying economicbenefits. While political parties grew as major political institutions through whichthose who were politically ambitious competed for political power, party politiciansfailed to overcome their common suspicion that the outcome of competition forpolitical power was still determined by something else, rather than by fair demo-cratic assessments of their performance. From this perspective, the politicaldevelopments of the beginning of post-Soeharto period draw our attention back to the puzzling relation between institutional democratization and its substan-tive consequences for actual practice in local political institutions. Although it seems reasonable to assume that the realization of the initial intention of politicalchange would take longer compared to formal changes in terms of institutional

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election 49

arrangements, the case discussed in this chapter shows that as long as politicalinstitutions are seen as no more than a means for getting rich, the intended effectsof democratization combined with decentralization will require a much longertimeframe.

Experiences of the first several years after the fall of Soeharto’s authoritarianregime in May 1998, represented by the case in this chapter, left an essential lessonthat the institutional aspect of the political system cannot be automaticallyassociated with “substantive” democratization—i.e., the institutionalization ofdemocratic practices in the day-to-day political behavior of politicians. Thisweakness of the substantive aspects of democratization may be unnoticed in theformally democratic settings, but when informal political processes emerge as adefining feature of the post-authoritarian polity, it becomes clear that formaldemocracy will remain merely formal.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

50 Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

3 The rise of local elites, with money and sosokThe Riau Archipelago’s 2005gubernatorial election*

The Indonesian government has introduced sweeping decentralization measuresalong with various democratic reforms since 1998. The institution of direct electionsof local government heads is the country’s most recent experiment to make localgovernance more responsive and accountable. Correspondingly, Indonesia’s localelections and politics are of greater practical significance than ever. Yet ourunderstanding of the impact of such elections on the dynamics of the country’slocal politics and governance remains inadequate.

This chapter analyzes the Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election. In June 2005, for the first time since independence, Indonesians participated in elections to directly vote for their governors, mayors or regents. A close look at the RiauArchipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election offers some notable findings. On June30, 2005, the author was in Batam, witnessing this latest twist in Indonesia’sremarkable political transformation. In this chapter, I examine the conduct of theelection, identify the major issues before, during and after the election, and assessvoters’ participation in their first-ever direct local elections. The chapter’s principalaims are to develop an understanding of the political dynamics of the RiauArchipelago gubernatorial election and grasp the practical significance of localpolitical changes in the country more broadly.

The analysis is organized into three main sections. In the first section, I firstprovide some context on the Riau Archipelago’s social, political and economicattributes at the time of the election. This includes discussion of the Batam IndustrialDevelopment Authority (BIDA), a national-level agency whose operations over-shadowed the archipelago’s local political institutions until at least 2001. I theninvestigate the processes and results of the 2005 Riau Archipelago gubernatorialelection. This includes analysis of the electoral processes, from the nomination ofcandidates, through campaigns and voting, to the validation of election results. Inthe third section, which draws on first-hand observations of elections in the RiauArchipelago and other regions, I discuss some of the ways direct local electionshave affected the dynamics of local politics. Finally, I draw conclusions on theimplications of direct local elections for ongoing political change in Indonesia.Overall, I argue that while direct local executive elections have indeed transformedthe dynamics of Indonesia’s local politics in the Riau Archipelago and elsewhere,the substantive changes in local politicians’ attitudes and behavior that advocates

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

of direct local elections had hoped for remain unrealized. As we shall see, thepractical effects of direct local elections depend not on formal institutional reforms,but on how local actors interpret and respond to these reforms on the ground.

The Riau Archipelago: politics, economy and society

The Riau Archipelago, or Kepulauan Riau (Kepri), is Indonesia’s youngest provincehaving separated from Riau Province in 2004.1 Economically, the archipelago isdistinctive. Thanks to its close proximity to Singapore and the Indonesian govern-ment’s efforts to exploit this advantage, Kepri has become a significant destinationfor international investment and tourism, particularly from Singapore. Batam andBintan are the archipelago’s two most important islands. Batam is the island closestto Singapore and, in the past three decades, it has been transformed from being alightly populated rainforest area to a bustling regional center of industry, shipping,communications and tourism. Bintan is the archipelago’s largest island and is afocus of large-scale foreign investments in industrial parks and mega resorts. Theseislands attract foreign investors with their cheap land and labor, and their strategiclocations. According to Singapore’s Ministry of State for Foreign Affairs, combinedforeign investments in Batam and Bintan exceeded US$9 billion, generated anexport value of US$4.1 billion, and created jobs for more than 220,000 workers.In 2004 alone, 41 new foreign companies established operations in Batam, withnew investments totaling more than US$160 million.2

Batam, only 20 km from Singapore and the motor for the Riau Archipelago’seconomic growth, warrants special attention. The most notable feature of Batam’sdevelopment has been the remarkable pace of its economic transformation. In the1960s, the island was nearly all pristine rainforest, with only 2,000 residents inhabit-ing a few tiny villages. In 1971, the Indonesian government launched an ambitiousproject to transform the island into a major industrial zone and, to this end,established the BIDA. The island was placed under the custodianship of BIDA,which gained control of land through presidential decree and has remained outsidethe power of local political institutions. Initially, the development of Batam waslimited to logistic and operational businesses related to oil and gas exploration ofPertamina, the state-owned oil company. The focus of development started toexpand in the mid-1970s while the island’s development potential started to berealized fully when the island was integrated into a Singapore-led growth trianglelinking Batam, Singapore and Malaysia’s Johor state in 1986. By December 2001,750 foreign companies had established operations in Batam, with direct investmenttotaling US$719 million. Singapore is the largest shareholder, with 279 companiesin operation and direct investment of US$453 million in total (BIDA 2005, 21–2).3

Batam’s development was important not only economically but also politically,especially as an integral part of Soeharto’s patronage system, which upheld theNew Order regime. Until 1998, President Soeharto held a tight grip on Batam’sdevelopment, principally by assigning his cronies to oversee the island’stransformation. Ibnu Sutowo, the President-Director of Pertamina, chaired BIDAfrom 1971 to 1976, until he was fired from his position in the wake of Pertamina’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

52 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

bankruptcy. Sutowo initially promoted and launched the Batam developmentproject and was known as one of the main suppliers of funds to Soeharto’s patronagesystem (Liang 2001, Mackie 1970; Robison 1986; Winters 1996). In 1978, Soehartoinstalled B.J. Habibie, his most trusted and longstanding favorite, to head BIDA.4

For the next 20 years, Habibie used the land and capital at BIDA’s disposal to servethe interests of Soeharto and his patronage system. For example, in many cases,the counterpart of the Singaporean investors was the Salim Group, owned bySoeharto’s long-time crony Liem Sioe Liong (Colombijn 2003). At the same time,Habibie secured lucrative business opportunities for members of his own family.5

BIDA continued to control all development projects on Batam until the imple-mentation of the regional autonomy scheme in 2001.6

After 2001, the devolution of a wide range of authority to the district/municipalgovernments resulted in overlapping authorities and intense competition overdevolved power and resources among various local institutions and agents. In theRiau Archipelago, such competition, along with tension and conflict of interests,was centered between BIDA and local authorities, such as the Batam municipalgovernment and assembly. The practical outcomes of diverse decentralizationmeasures, at least initially, were a great deal of inconsistencies and contradictionsamong competing local authorities. For instance, while local governments stillreceived significant transfers from the national budget, they also introduced newtaxes and levies in order to boost their budget revenues. Both domestic and inter-national investors grew wary of inconsistent and sometimes even contradictorypolicies pursued by different local authorities. According to local think-tank ProdataBatam, since 2001 (the first year of the implementation of a wide range of decen-tralization measures) at least 95 foreign companies had left the island for countriessuch as China and Vietnam, and 35 others had downsized operations or wereconsidering pulling out (The Straits Times, March 18, 2005).

In October 2005, in an effort to allay investors’ concerns, the Indonesiangovernment upgraded Batam to a “bonded zone plus” in which businesses wereallowed to import goods duty-free into specified bonded zones. After almost fouryears of legal uncertainty, Batam was officially launched as a free trade zone (FTZ)in January 2009 (The Jakarta Post, January 20, 2009). Such a change indeed gaveSingaporean and other foreign investors increased incentives for further investment.Yet, despite its special status, Batam’s local regulatory environment seemed toincreasingly hinge on local, rather than national, political processes.7 With admini-strative and political decentralization and direct local elections, foreign investorshad to become increasingly involved in local society and their need to cultivatelocal relationships became more important. From this point of view, the region’sfirst direct gubernatorial election was of great interest to political and economicdecision-makers in Singapore and beyond.

The 2005 gubernatorial election

In what follows, I analyze four major processes of the 2005 gubernatorial electionof the Riau Archipelago: the nomination of candidates, campaigns, voting and the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 53

validation of election results. Data obtained from media coverage of the election,as well as my own interviews with diverse social groups, including voters, cam-paigners and journalists, are utilized. To assess continuity and change in voters’party identity and bases of voting decisions, the 2005 direct election results arecompared with the provincial-level results of the 2004 legislative election.

Nomination of candidates and party coalitions

Three party coalitions nominated three pairs of candidates for the Riau Archipelago’sgubernatorial election (Tables 3.1 and 3.2). Notably, all six candidates were well-established local officials and bureaucrats. The first pair was Rizal Zen, former policeofficer, and Firman Bisowarno, secretary-general of the agency that set up the newprovince (Badan Pelaksana Pembentukan Provinsi Kepulauan Riau). The NationalAwakening Party (PKB) nominated the Rizal–Friman pair and 12 other small parties,including those with no representatives at the provincial assembly, joined thecoalition. Golkar and the Prosperous Justice Party (Partai Keadilan Sejahtera, PKS)nominated Ismeth Abdullah and Muhammad Sani, and several small parties,including the United Development Party (PPP) and the Democratic Party (PartaiDemokrat, PD) joined the coalition. Finally, the National Mandate Party (PAN)and the Indonesian Democracy of Struggle (PDI-P) nominated Nyat Kadir andSoerya Respationo, drawing support from a few small parties. Of the three tickets,Rizal Zen and Firman Bisowarno were the least well known among the local

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

54 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

Table 3.1 Parties at the Riau Archipelago provincial assembly (2004–9)

Political parties No. of provincial assembly seats

Golkar 9PDI-P 7PAN 7PKS 5PPP 3PD 3Other small parties 11

Total 45

Table 3.2 Candidates and party coalitions in the Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorialelection

Names of candidates Party coalitions

Rizal Zen PKB (2 seats) and 12 small partiesFirman Bisowarno

Ismeth Abdullah Golkar (9), PKS (5), PPP (3), PD (3) and small partiesMuhammad Sani

Nyat Kadir PAN (7), PDI-P (7) and small partiesSoerya Respationo

population. By contrast, the other two tickets had been nominated by major partiesand were tough competitors with each other at the outset.

By any count, Ismeth Abdullah was one of the wealthiest and best-connectedpolitical figures in the archipelago. Originally from Cirebon of West Java, he servedas chairman of BIDA from 1998 to 2005 and was also a former acting governor ofthe Riau Archipelago in 2004 and 2005. Aida Ismeth, his wife, is the daughter of aformer governor of Riau Province in the late 1950s and was elected in 2004 torepresent the archipelago at the national-level Regional Representative Assembly(DPD). Given Ismeth Abdullah’s background and experience, it was not surpris-ing that Golkar, the biggest party in the archipelago’s provincial assembly, swiftly nominated him as the party’s gubernatorial candidate. Abdullah was alsobelieved to be the favorite of the business community in the region. Abdullah pickedMuhammad Sani, a former regent (bupati) of the Karimun district, as his runningmate. Sani was supported by the PKS, the fourth biggest party in the Kepri assembly,and he was believed to have a strong base in Karimun, where Abdullah seemed tohave relatively weak support. Aside from the fact that they were supported by thestrong Golkar–PKS coalition, Abdullah and Sani seemed to benefit from their long-established careers and reputations. Some predicted the pair’s victory even beforethe campaigns.

Nonetheless, Nyat Kadir and Soerya Respationo were competitive enough tomake predicting the results difficult. Kadir was mayor of Batam from 2001 to 2005,while Respationo was the chairman of the Batam municipal assembly for the period2004–9. Compared to Abdullah and Sani, Kadir and Respationo appeared somewhatcloser to the local people. Originally from the region, Kadir was regarded as a “localboy” or putra daerah, and Respationo, originally from Yogyakarta in Central Java,had earned a good reputation through his social networks and activities withBatam’s lower-class workers and their families. This then became a campaignbetween a BIDA heavyweight and local underdogs.

Campaigns: sosok, migrants and the media

Compared to the nomination of candidates, parties played an insignificant role inother electoral processes. In waging their campaigns, which lasted from June 13to 26, candidates funded their own campaigns and received very limited supportfrom the political machines of parties.8 In the place of effectively functioning partymachines,9 three elements of the campaigns took on additional importance. First,the campaigns were more focused on personalities, or sosok, rather than platforms.By law, candidates were required to lay out their “mission, vision, and program”but their ideas were more or less uniform. Instead, sosok, which can be referred toa person’s physical appearance or charismatic character, played an important part in the campaigning, given that there was very little information available forvoters to assess candidates. Some argue that Indonesian voters are irrational andemotional because they tend to rely on candidates’ sosok in choosing their politicalleaders.10 While this is debatable, it is important to note that the lack of policy debate

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 55

during the campaigns meant that candidates’ personalities and socio-economicbackgrounds provided Indonesian voters with a way of assessing candidates.11

Second, given that a large share of the archipelago’s population are migrants,or pendatang, such regional organizations as the Community of North Sumatranese(Ikatan Keluarga Besar Sumatra Utara) took on an especially important role, insome senses taking the role usually provided by village leaders. This is particularlythe case in Batam, whose population makes up more than half the whole populationof the province. Although it is said that there are more than 100 such organizationsin the archipelago, just a handful of them could boast of close relationships betweenthe leadership and the grassroots members. Notably, regional organizations arethemselves not political. However, during the election campaigns, such organiza-tions’ chairs often decide to support certain parties or candidates in the name oftheir organizations, but usually without consulting their grassroots members. In the2005 gubernatorial election, leaders of regional organizations appeared keener tomake use of the election in seeking financial contributions (sumbangan) as rewardsfor their political support.12

The third important factor that influenced the campaigns was the local massmedia. Theoretically, the local media can help the public form opinions on the basisof locally defined interests. However, in practice, many of Kepri’s dailies andweeklies appeared highly partisan and drew criticism as having become instrumentsof power struggles (see Dalle 2005). Some reporters unofficially joined campaignteams and supported their candidates by providing them with information ororganizing questions before press conferences. Journalists supporting the Nyat–Soerya team seemed to be particularly blatant, given that Ismeth Abdullah, theformer governor of the Riau Archipelago, boasted a vast network and resources,including close relationships with local media companies (The Jakarta Post, June15, 2005). The lack of professional journalism, reporters’ poor pay and thesignificance of advertisements from local political institutions can be attributed tounbalanced coverage by the local mass media in the Riau Archipelago and otherregions more generally (Haryanto 2005).

Voting

On June 30, 2005, a little more than half of the registered voters (56.16 percent)went to the polls across the archipelago.13 Internationally, local elections consis-tently draw lower turnouts than national elections. Therefore, the lower turnoutsin the Riau Archipelago compared to the previous year’s national-level electionsare not surprising. However, the estimated 50 percent to 60 percent turnouts forthe country’s first-ever direct local elections are not necessarily suggestive of avibrant democracy. Here, two findings need to be considered.

First, since the late 1990s, Indonesian voters have changed their attitudes towardparties and elections.14 Despite the country’s continuous experiment with demo-cratic reforms and decentralization, the forgotten promises made during theelections and the abuse of the expanded authority by local politicians have vastlydampened expectations of ordinary Indonesians about a more democratic and

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

56 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

locally grounded political life. Ironically enough, as Ryass Rasyid (2003, 66)observed, “public trust in regional governments and legislatures has declined sincethe implementation of the regional autonomy laws.” The relatively low turnout inthe region’s first direct election might even reflect a growing public disillusionmentwith formally democratic, but substantively doubtful, political change. In Batam,the turnout was lower than the provincial average, with 52 percent. And as myinterview with members of Batam’s municipal KPUD revealed, the turnouts inindustrial areas within Batam were much lower, with around 28 percent in MukaKuning, the area where Batamindo, Batam’s first industrial park, is located.15 Thisprojects a particularly low level of migrant workers’ participation in the voting.

Second, as discussed in Chapter 1, elections in many localities, including theRiau Archipelago, revealed shortcomings in the legal framework and governanceof the elections. According to Law No. 32 of 2004, provincial and district KPUDare responsible for staging the elections by themselves without any centrallycoordinated assistance and monitoring. Almost every locality had difficulty inupdating voter registration and educating the local population about the elections,which were undertaken by the Ministry of Home Affairs. Even before the elections,some observers predicted low turnouts by pointing out two factors: the lack ofpublic education about the elections by respective KPUD and the lack of parties’involvement in the campaigning (Pikiran Rakyat, May 16, 2005). In fact, in theRiau Archipelago and elsewhere, angry unregistered voters staged demonstrations,asking that the elections be delayed. The legal disputes over voter registration andwhich institution had the final responsibility for governing elections continued afterthe elections in many places, including the Riau Archipelago. For example, in theTanjungpura District, the KPUD received 112,779 voters’ registration cards justtwo nights before the voting. Voters were allowed to cast their ballots by showingtheir identity cards as long as they were registered at the polling stations. In addition,some people, including some members of the local assemblies, found that they werenot registered (Batam Pos, June 30, 2005). As a result, there were several demon-strations in front of the provincial assembly as well as the provincial KPUDdemanding that those who couldn’t vote on June 30 be permitted to cast their ballots(Batam Pos, July 4, 2005). In response, political parties, in the name of PoliticalParties Supporting Local Executive Election (Gabungan Parpol PendukungPilkada), expressed their support to the provincial KPUD’s decision not to repeatthe voting (Batam Pos, July 5, 2005).

Anecdotal evidence is further suggestive of the change of Indonesian voters’attitudes toward elections and political parties. Just before the voting many peoplein Batam seemed uninterested in, even unaware of, their first direct local executiveelection, and only a few showed any enthusiasm for the election. For example, onemotorbike taxi driver (tukang ojek) interviewed was not shy to show his enthusiasmfor the election (interview, June 29, 2005, Batam). Originally from Klaten, CentralJava, he was a strong supporter of Soerya Respationo, the deputy gubernatorialcandidate. He explained that Soerya had founded a social organization namedJogoboyo (literally meaning “guards of danger”) for mutual help among members,mostly from the lower classes. According to this motorbike taxi driver and other

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 57

sources, migrant workers from Java, usually with no stable jobs, supported Soerya,who was also from Central Java, because of his track record as a “big man,” standingup for the poor and the needy. At the same time, some local people were uninterestedin, and even cynical about, the election. For example, Anton, originally from theregion (Karimun), argued that local elections matter only to politicians. He said,“We, little people, are bored with promises made during the campaigns” (MediaKepri, June 30, 2005). Others expressed their distrust in the political parties, accusingparty politicians of taking care of the interests of their parties and themselves (BatamPos, June 30, 2005). Intellectuals, activists and journalists appeared pessimistic.Although they were engaged with some of the issues, directly or indirectly, theyexhibited cynicism and little faith in democratic processes. For example, a reporterworking for Media Indonesia, one of the national dailies, told me, “Indonesiandemocracy is crippled” (interview, June 29, 2005, Batam). Their cynicism, in turn,was used to justify their distance from democratic political processes.

Validation of the election results

On July 7, 2005, the Riau Archipelago’s provincial KPUD announced the electionresults and declared Ismeth Abdullah and Muhammad Sani the winners. They wonthe election convincingly, with 60 percent of the vote (Table 3.3). Interestingly,they lost against Nyat Kadir and Soerya Respationo in Karimun, where MuhammadSani was believed to have a strong base. The Nyat–Soerya pair also won in theNatuna district.

If the gubernatorial election results are compared to the provincial-level resultsof the 2004 legislative election, the linkage between party affiliation and votingbehavior is unclear (Table 3.4). More than 20 percent of additional votes cast forfactors such as religion, ethnicity and social class need to be considered, which isbeyond the purpose of this chapter. It is worth mentioning that many of thoseinterviewed during and after the election tended to discount the significance of partyaffiliations of both candidates and voters, pointing out that a candidate’s sosokmattered most.

As in many other regions across the country, unresolved controversies over voterregistration and the roles played by the KPUD turned into legal disputes over Kepri’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

58 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

Table 3.3 Results of the Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

Districts Rizal–Firman Ismeth–Sani Nyat–Soerya

Batam Municipality 7,042 174,437 65,776Tanjung Pinang 3,764 30,568 16,049Karimun 4,345 35,608 39,052Kepri 3,837 31,746 17,092Lingga 3,775 20,541 17,076Natuna 4,759 16,219 17,878

Total 27,522 309,119 172,923

Source: Riau Archipelago’s provincial KPUD.

election results. The losing candidates—Nyat Kadir and Soerya Respationo—contested the election results in the Supreme Court. They accused the provincialKPUD of disfranchising 278,299 eligible voters, especially among their supportbase, by preventing their registration before the voting. The Court dropped the casefor the reason that any legal case regarding direct local elections should concernonly the results of vote counting. Ismeth Abdullah and Muhammad Sani wereinaugurated as the first directly elected Governor and Deputy Governor of the RiauArchipelago on August 19, 2005.

The victory of Ismeth and Sani was not surprising. Some analysts, such asSyamsuddin Haris of the Indonesian Institute of Sciences (Lembaga IlmuPengetahuan Indonesia, LIPI), had predicted that direct executive elections wouldresult in the emergence of “big kings” (raja-raja besar) with strong legitimacy inthe particular region (Kompas, March 26, 2005). Taken as a whole, the newprovincial government led by well-resourced and experienced Ismeth Abdullahand religiously devout and skillful Muhammad Sani indicated that Kepri wouldlikely have political and bureaucratic stability, and the continuance of developmentpolicies geared toward the domestic elite and the international business community.

Local democratization?

The first round of direct local elections, including the Riau Archipelago’s guber-natorial one, revealed a number of important developments in Indonesia’s multi-party politics that have, in turn, directly or indirectly affected the dynamics oflocal politics in the country. An overriding inconsistency was observed in patternsof inter-party coalition-building across the country. It indicated that there wasgrowing intra-party tension and that the magnitude of money politics in localelectoral and party politics was not declining but only their character had changed.

A first notable feature of the initial round of direct local elections was the pro-foundly inconsistent patterns of party coalitions across the country. The componentsof winning party coalitions varied region by region, which seemed to reflectdifferent power configurations at each localities as well as the lack of centrallycoordinated coalition-building efforts. It also indicated that Indonesian political

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 59

Table 3.4 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election results compared with theprovincial-level results of the 2004 legislative election

2004 general election results (%) 2005 gubernatorial election results (%)

Golkar (16), PKS (11), PPP (5), PD (5) The Ismeth–Sani pair (60)and small parties (over 37 in total)

PDI-P (14), PAN (10) and small parties The Nyat–Soerya pair (34)(over 24 in total)

PKB and small parties (over 4 in total) The Rizal–Firman pair (5)

Source: Ananta, Arifin and Suryadinata (2005, 151) for the provincial-level results of the 2004legislative elections; 2005 gubernatorial elections results from the provincial KPUD.

parties were becoming more concerned about nominating candidates who werepopular among the local populations rather than centrally coordinating party coali-tions. As Muhammad Qodari, the deputy executive director of Indonesian SurveyCircle (Lingkaran Survei Indonesia, LSI), pointed out it could also signal that ideo-logy or substantive policy debates had a negligible role in party politics, especiallyat the local level. Rather, it was parties’ local political and economic interests thatdetermined their attitudes and behavior (Kompas, June 30, 2005).

A second notable feature of the early direct local elections was the participationand victory of entrenched political and economic elites.16 As the Centre for PoliticalStudy-Soegeng Sarjadi Syndicate (CPS-SSS) survey shows, and as the case of theRiau Archipelago’s gubernatorial election demonstrates, many of the directlyelected local government heads turned out to be long-established local officialspaired with well-resourced local businessmen (Rinakit 2005). The election fieldsin many elections were filled by rich and influential elites who could meet theperceived costs of taking part in a decentralized and highly competitive strugglefor power. As we shall see in the following case studies, parties were generallyabsent from local electoral processes and individual candidates funded their owncampaigns and other activities, such as giving donations to village communitiesand organizing religious or social gatherings. In such a way, direct local electionsgenerally strengthened the position of locally embedded, as opposed to nationallyvetted, leaders. In the absence of strong party identification, local leaders withsufficient means seemed to be able to secure their control over local politicalinstitutions, no matter whether they enjoyed the support of local party machinesor not.

Third, most major parties seemed to have experienced some degree of tensionbetween the Jakarta-based party leadership and local cadres. Examples of tensionscould be found within all major parties, with the possible exception of the PKS.Typically, national party leaders nominated candidates who were not popular orhad weak support base among local cadres. Local cadres might fight back to claimand enhance their position in local political process or stay away from the electoralprocess. In either case, under the guise of their centralizing pretensions, majorparties have lost their grip over local politics and governance. For instance, thecentral board of the PDI-P, the second-largest party in the national assembly during2004–9, was reported to have discharged both the chairman and secretary of theparty’s district board in Sintang, West Kalimantan, when the district board failedto follow the central board’s recommendations and nominated their own candidates(Kompas, April 29, 2005). In the regent election in Banyuwangi, East Java, thePDI-P’s central board supported the chairman of the party’s district board, whilethe majority of the party’s sub-district boards in Banyuwangi supported anothercandidate (for more detailed discussion of the Banyuwangi case, see Chapter 5).It appeared that tensions and contradictions accumulated between the process of administrative and political decentralization on the one hand, and the highlycentralized pretension of parties’ central boards in Jakarta on the other. In suchcircumstances, direct local elections appeared to have exacerbated internal conflictsbetween the central leadership and local branches of parties.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

60 The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election

Finally, direct local elections did not appear to have reduced the significance ofmoney politics but might well have altered their character (see also Hadiz 2007, 884;Mietzner 2006; Buehler and Tan 2007). In fact, as we saw in the previous chapter,money politics was already embedded in local elections even under the indirectelectoral system. What made the new electoral system distinct was that now politicalparties, not individual party representatives in local assemblies, were the onesreceiving money from potential candidates (bakal calon). This is a supreme irony.Many ordinary Indonesians, NGO activists and academics enthusiastically supporteddirect elections of local government heads with the expectation that such electionswould prevent the local elite from playing money politics and enhance the democraticquality of elections at the local level (see, for example, Konrad-Adnauer-Stiftungand ADEKSI 2003, 9–17). In contrast, a few activists and academics expresseddifferent, somewhat pessimistic, viewpoints. For example, Kastorius Sinaga arguedthat it was too naive to assume that the implementation of direct elections for localofficials would eliminate money politics from Indonesia’s electoral and party politics.By the same token, T.A. Legowo emphasized the significance of institutionalizationof democratic practices at the local level rather than the implementation of directlocal elections per se (Konrad-Adnauer-Stiftung and ADEKSI 2003, 48–63). Longbefore the elections were held, the importance of money politics was already clear,given the major parties’ effective control over nomination of candidates. Forexample, I Gede Widiatmika, independent candidate in the mayoral election ofDenpasar in Bali, gave up running for the office after learning from a broker (calo)that he had to pay hundreds of millions of rupiah to a party in order to get the party’sofficial candidacy (Kompas, April 20, 2005). In interviews with a Singapore-baseddaily, some election watchers confirmed that due to the party-ticket requirement,some candidates had to “pay local party chapters to endorse their candidacies” (TheStraits Times, July 4, 2005). In short, money politics still remained a defining featureof local electoral and party politics.

Overall, the Riau Archipelago’s gubernatorial election and other elections showthat, although there is no doubt that such elections represent an important turningpoint in Indonesia’s local politics, their implications for the country’s continuingdemocratic change remain unclear. The following comparable case studies areexpected to help us have better understanding of such implications.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

The Riau Archipelago’s 2005 gubernatorial election 61

4 Oligarchic and paralyzedpolitical partiesBatam’s 2006 mayoral election*

This chapter examines how Indonesia’s experiment with direct local elections hasaffected local political dynamics and governance on the island of Batam, the RiauArchipelago. Given its strategic significance as a site of international commerce,as well as its social past as an integral part of the New Order regime, Batam providesan illustrative case of how political decentralization has affected Indonesia’s localpolitics. An analysis of the Batam case can also contribute to the larger task ofgrasping the dynamics of the country’s local political changes. To this end, Batam’smayoral election is examined in the light of existing empirical studies and thetheoretical literature on political change in Indonesia.

In light of both my own findings and the existing literature on other cases,Batam’s experience suggests a need to be cautious about the commonly acceptedhypothesis that direct local elections ultimately promote the further democratizationof local politics. My analysis of Batam’s mayoral election and observation ofelections in other regions challenge the dominant assumption that direct localelections herald the arrival of local democracy by improving the equity, respon-siveness and accountability of local governance. Rather, I draw attention to twonotable features of Indonesia’s direct elections of local government heads: theweakened position of political parties in local politics and the intensified powerstruggle among local interests for local political institutions and governance. TheBatam case shows that political parties’ influence has weakened despite theirmonopoly over the nomination of candidates for local government heads, whileentrenched and well-resourced political and economic elites find greater oppor-tunities to dominate the electoral competition for local power.

The analysis is organized in three sections. In the first section, I outline some ofthe most important attributes of Batam’s society and political economy. In thesecond section, I analyze Batam’s mayoral election, from the nomination ofcandidates, through the campaigns and voting, to the validation of election results.In the final section, I discuss the practical and theoretical implications of directlocal elections on the political dynamics of Batam and beyond.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam: politics, society and economy

As discussed in the previous chapter, one of the most striking attributes of Batam’spolitical economy has been the island’s rapid development from a quiet backwaterto a major regional economic center. Batam’s rapid development was possible withthe support provided by a political system that was closely tied to Jakarta. In turn,as an integral part of Soeharto’s patronage system and as a central destination forlarge-scale investment, the island’s economic development and political stabilitywere critical to the regional and national political economy. Yet Batam’s politicaleconomy has developed its own internal dynamics as its economic and demographicfeatures have changed. This became apparent in the late 1990s when conflicts beganto emerge between national and local interests.

With foreign and domestic investment inflows and large government develop-ment projects, Batam’s population has grown from 2,000 in the 1960s to 700,000today. The continuous flow of migrants has transformed Batam into a multi-ethnic,multi-religious society. Batam’s five largest ethnic groups are the Malays, Chinese,Javanese, Batak and Minang, while the three largest religious groups are Muslims,Buddhists and Christians. While Malay, Javanese and Minang Muslims formaround two-thirds of the population, Chinese Buddhists and Batak Christians makeup around 20 percent. Batam was also historically a part of the Malay world. Sincethe implementation of regional autonomy, Malay people have brought back theirMalay origin and culture, which were usually associated with aristocracy and power,and they often claim to be putra daerah (son of the soil). This resurgence of ethnicand cultural identity in Batam is contradictory. On the one hand, some see theseparation of the Riau Archipelago from Riau Province as largely motivated byMalay people’s desire to create their own Malay province (Faucher 2005).1 Yet itis also commonly recognized that the desire to enhance the region’s economiccooperation with Singapore and Malaysia was another important motivation forthe split (ibid.). Both the Malays and the migrants seem to understand the signifi-cance of this economic goal, which was well reflected in the 2005 gubernatorialelection. As we saw in the previous chapter, they elected Ismeth Abdullah, aJavanese who headed BIDA from 1998 to 2004 until he was appointed as an actinggovernor of the newly separated Riau Archipelago, as governor.

As discussed in Chapter 3, the implementation of regional autonomy in 2001marked a turning point in the relationship between BIDA and other local institutions,particularly the Batam municipal government and assembly. Sweeping measuresof administrative, fiscal and political decentralization not only resulted in over-lapping authority but also, more importantly, intensified competition for devolvedpower and resources. Unsurprisingly, there were inconsistencies and contradictionsamong competing local authorities, which in turn caused growing confusion andfrustration among investors. Technically, Batam was (and still is) under the cus-todianship of BIDA but, despite regional autonomy, BIDA remained outside thepower of local institutions and retained its monopoly over the island’s propertiesand development policies. With regional autonomy, however, BIDA was no longerthe only relevant authority on the island. In 1999, the national government

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 63

established Batam as an autonomous region and positioned BIDA as a partner inthe island’s development.2 After 2001, Batam’s new and democratically electedmunicipal government assumed a wide range of authorities and, like many otherlocal governments, the Batam municipal government was not shy in introducingnew levies. Across the country, issuing and charging fees for new industrial licensesquickly proved to be a particularly effective instrument for raising revenues.

Investors have groaned about double taxation and, perhaps more importantly,they have grown wary of inconsistencies, contradictions and overlaps in therespective policies pursued by BIDA and the municipal government.3 Evidencesuggests that competing authorities and the accompanying uncertainty amonginvestors are damaging the island’s economy. Indeed, between 200 and 2004, non-oil exports declined by US$1.11 billion, or roughly 20 percent, and new foreigninvestments fell by 34 percent in 2005. However, it was reported that tax revenuesfrom the island did increase modestly, from Rp. 1.03 trillion (US$11.8 million) in2004 to Rp. 1.08 trillion (US$117.2 million) in 2005 (Kompas, February 21, 2006).

Given the strategic significance of investors to Batam’s and national politicaleconomy, the national government attempted to allay investors’ concerns byupgrading Batam to a “bonded zone plus.” From October 2005, businesses wereallowed to import goods duty-free into specified bonded zones on the island.4 InJanuary 2009, after almost four years of legal uncertainty, Batam was officiallylaunched as an FTZ, increasing incentives for further investment among investors—particularly Singaporean and other foreign investors (The Jakarta Post, January20, 2009). Notwithstanding its special status granted by the national government,however, it can be argued that Batam’s local regulatory environment hinges onlocal, rather than national, political processes.5 Moreover, with Soeharto and hispatronage system gone, Batam’s politicians and businesspeople seem ready to grabthe opportunities that direct local elections present to them. The need to understandthe local society and cultivate locally grounded relationships appears to be moreimportant than ever. From this point of view, Batam’s first direct mayoral electionshould be of great interest to political and economic decision-makers in neighboringcountries and beyond.

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election was relatively smooth and peaceful. However,Batam is a particularly interesting locality in which to investigate Indonesia’s localpolitics. Given its status as a destination for foreign direct investment, Batam hasregional, political and economic significance. Equally importantly, as I havediscussed earlier, the island was a vital part of Soeharto’s patronage system thatsustained the New Order regime until 1998.

The 2006 mayoral election marked the first open competition between diverselocal interests over the island’s governance. Previous elections of the municipalassembly provided the local society with a new access to decision-makingconcerning the island’s affairs, but also allowed political parties to keep their irongrip on local politics. Direct elections of local government heads were designed to

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

64 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

give the local society opportunities to participate in and influence decision-makingwith regard to their own affairs.

Batam’s first direct mayoral election was particularly interesting because itoccurred in the context where the power struggles between a national-level agency(BIDA) and a decentralized local authority (the municipal government) had becomeunmanageable. In the situation where the lines of authority between the two com-peting authorities remained fuzzy, the election provided local elites with an arenawhere they could openly compete to control the island’s governance. One of themost striking features of Batam’s direct mayoral election was the almost completeabsence of political parties in the electoral process despite their monopoly overthe nomination of candidates for the mayorship. Instead, entrenched and well-resourced local officials dominated the electoral competition, making the electionakin to a contest of personality and prestige.

Batam’s first direct mayoral election took place in four major phases: thenomination of candidates, campaigns, voting and the validation of election results.Primary data for this analysis were collected during several field visits between2005 and March 2006. The nomination of candidates produced some controversiesover internal conflicts within certain parties (PDI-P, PAN and PKB). The four pairsof candidates eventually nominated by the four party coalitions consisted of well-established local officials. Similar patterns of candidate pairings were observedacross regions. Political parties, despite their monopoly over the nomination ofcandidates, were largely absent in the campaigns, contributing to the lack of debateon policy or platform. Overall, the 2006 Batam mayoral election reveals theorganizational malfunctioning of political parties in local power struggles, theheightened competition and realignment among local elites, and persistent technicalproblems related to the general institutional framework and governing organizationsof the election.

Nomination of candidates and party coalitions

Law No. 32/2004 stipulates that only political parties or party coalitions holdingat least 15 percent of seats in local assemblies are eligible to nominate candidatesfor governors or mayors/regents (Article 59). To win an election, a pair of candi-dates has to win more than 25 percent of the vote. After a judicial review of theeligibility of small parties to nominate candidates for local government heads, theConstitutional Court ruled that parties that do not have any representatives in localassemblies still can nominate candidates for governors, mayors and regents byforming a coalition with other parties in such a way that they garner 15 percent ofvotes in the previous legislative elections. Table 4.1 shows the composition ofparties in the Batam municipal assembly for the period of 2004–9, a result of the2004 legislative election.

In the 2006 Batam mayoral election, four party coalitions nominated four pairsof candidates. Similar to the previous gubernatorial election of the Riau Archipelago,well-established local officials ran for local government heads. The coalition-

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 65

building process was quite complicated, with internal—mostly vertical—conflictsevident within the major parties. In particular, the centralized decision-makingpretensions of major parties conflicted with the political ambitions of local cadres.Deprived of the autonomy to make decisions and access to financial contributionsmade by potential candidates, local cadres stayed away from the electoral process.As in many other localities, there was almost no attempt to nominate femalecandidates by parties and civil society agents alike, resulting in the absolutedominance of male candidates in the competition for local offices.6 Table 4.2 presentspolitical parties that built coalitions supporting the four pairs of candidates in the2006 mayoral election.

In what follows, I briefly examine the profiles of the candidates and the partiesthat supported them in Batam’s 2006 mayoral election.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

66 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

Table 4.1 Composition of parties in the Batam municipal assembly (2004–9)

Political parties Number of seats in the Percentage of the vote received municipal assembly in the 2004 elections

PDI-Perjuangan 7 13.5PKS 6 13.5PAN 6 11.8Golkar 5 11.1PPP 4 6.1PD 4 7.1PKB 4 6.4PDS 4 8.0PBB 1 2.7PPIB 1 1.5PNI Marhaenisme 1 2.7PNBK 1 1.0PBSD 1 2.5

Total 45 87.9

Source: Batam branch of the General Election Commission (KPUD Batam).

Table 4.2 Candidates and party coalitions in the 2006 Batam mayoral election

No. Names of candidates Supporting parties

1 Ahmad Dachlan PAN and PDZulbahri

2 Ahmad Dahlan Golkar, PKS, PPP and PPDK*Ria Saptarika

3 Abdullah Basyid PKB and PDSRichard Pasaribu

4 Nazief Soesila Dharma PDI-P, PNI Marhaenisme, PBSD, PPIB and PartaiSahat Sianturi Pelopor*

Note: * With no seats in the municipal assembly.

Ahmad Dachlan–Zulbahri

The first pair of candidates was Ahmad Dachlan, lawyer and political activist, andZulbahri, assistant in the Department of Economy and Development of the Batammunicipal government. Ahmad Dachlan was originally from East Nusa Tenggara,while Zulbahri was from Padang, South Sumatra. The Democrat Party (PD), whichoccupied four seats in the Batam municipal assembly, nominated the pair and theNational Mandate Party (PAN) announced its support for the pair on November25, 2005 after the process of registration was closed. As I explain below, althoughPAN secured six seats in the assembly, the party’s support for the pair was symbolicrather than substantial because the party was unable to participate meaningfully inthe electoral process.

The story behind the PAN’s support is quite interesting because the party’s Batamchapter originally supported its own candidate, Arifin Nasir, with Ahars Sulaimanof the United Development Party (PPP). However, the party’s central board sup-ported another candidate, Nazief Dharma. It is said that Asman Abnur, a long-established Batam official7 and at that time a PAN representative in the nationalassembly, strongly supported Nazief Dharma, which some sources attributed to thetwo men’s business relationship. The PAN’s internal regulations obliged its localchapters to follow the central board’s instructions. While the PAN’s Batam chapterwas waiting for the central board’s recommendation, the PPP joined the Golkar–PKS coalition that nominated another pair (Batam Pos, November 1, 2005) andNazief Dharma registered as a mayoral candidate of the Indonesian DemocracyParty of Struggle (PDI-P). PAN missed the registration of candidates, and it becameclear that the PAN’s central board rejected the Batam chapter’s decision to nominateArifin Nasir, claiming that the process and mechanism of nomination at the munici-pal board did not follow the central board’s guidelines (Batam Pos, November 9,2005). The Batam municipal board of the PAN eventually withdrew its supportfor Arifin Nasir (Batam Pos, November 10, 2005).

The rumor ran that Arifin Nasir had failed to gain support from the PAN becausehe could not pay out Rp. 2 billion as compensation money (urang kompensasi)(Batam Pos, November 1, 2005). Arifin Nasir denied it, but interestingly, he didnot deny the fact that he had to pay the compensation money for his officialcandidacy. He instead argued, “It is not true. There is no problem in my financialsituation. I have been just waiting for the moment the agreement is made” (BatamPos, November 10, 2005). Stories like that of the PAN’s experience in Batam arenot unusual across parties and regions, with the highly centralized decision-makingpretensions of most parties and the consequent tension between national leadersand local cadres.

Ahmad Dahlan–Ria Saptarika

As in the gubernatorial election of the Riau Archipelago, Golkar and the ProsperousJustice Party (PKS) built a winning coalition in Batam.8 Notably, Golkar is thefourth biggest party in Batam’s municipal assembly, with five seats out of forty-five, while the PKS is the second largest party, with six seats.9 For the mayoral race,

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 67

the two parties nominated two high-profile local officials. The mayoral candidatewas Ahmad Dahlan, who worked for BIDA for almost 20 years before joining theRiau Archipelago provincial government as chief of the Department of Com-munications and Tourism (Dinas Perhubungan dan Pariwisata). The deputymayoral candidate was Ria Saptarika, chairman of the PKS fraksi in the provincialassembly of the Riau Archipelago and also secretary of the provincial board of thePKS in the Riau Archipelago. The PPP and the United Democratic NationhoodParty (Partai Persatuan Demokrasi Kebangsaan, PPDK) joined the coalition and,as a result, the coalition represented a third of all seats in the municipal assembly.Born in Batam, Ahmad Dahlan was a “local boy,” or putra daerah, while RiaSaptarika was originally from Riau. Before the election, there was speculationthat they both would strongly appeal to Malay-related regional organizations andsocial gatherings. Benefiting from their long-established careers and reputationsas devout Muslims, the pair of a BIDA-affiliated bureaucrat and an engineer-turned-politician was an odds-on favorite from the outset.

Abdullah Basyid–Richard Pasaribu

The third pair of candidates was Abdullah Basyid and Richard Pasaribu, nominatedby the National Awakening Party (PKB) in coalition with the Prosperous PeaceParty (Partai Damai Sejahtera, PDS). With eight seats in the municipal assembly,those two parties formed a coalition of Islamic and non-Islamic groups. Born inneighboring Terong Island, Abdullah Basyid appealed to the hinterland communi-ties on the island as another “local boy,” while Richard Pasaribu, a Batak descendantfrom North Sumatra, appealed to the Christian communities of the island.

Fragmentation within the PKB made Abdullah Basyid’s nomination full of twistsand turns.10 A group following the Muhaimin faction of the PKB dominated thenomination process, supporting Abdullah Basyid, while another group followingthe ulama (Islamic preachers) faction objected to it but could not stop AbdullahBasyid from registering as the party’s official candidate. Following the SupremeCourt ruling that the Muhaimin faction’s sacking of an ulama faction leader wasunlawful, the supporters of the ulama faction asked the Batam branch of the GeneralElection Commission (KPUD Batam) to suspend the electoral process. However,the request was delivered on November 24, 2005, the day when the KPUD Batamwas scheduled to determine the official candidates for the election. The KPUDBatam refused to suspend the electoral process because of the PKB’s internalconflicts, quoting Law No. 32/2004 and Governmental Regulation No. 6/2005(Batam Pos, November 25, 2005).

Nazief Soesila Dharma–Sahat Sianturi

The final pair of candidates was Nazief Soesila Dharma and Sahat Sianturi,nominated by a coalition of five parties: the PDI-P, the Pioneers’ Party (PartaiPelopor), the Marhaenism Indonesian National Party (Partai Nasional IndonesiaMarhaenisme), the Socialist Democratic Labor Party (Partai Buruh Sosial

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

68 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

Demokrat, PBSD), and the New Indonesia Alliance Party (Partai PerhimpunanIndonesia Baru, PPIB). The PDI-P was the majority party in the municipal assemblywith seven seats. As in the PAN case, the national leadership of the PDI-P decidedSahat’s nomination as a deputy mayoral candidate and agreed on Nazief’s nomina-tion as the party’s mayoral candidate. Interviews with some PDI-P representativesat the municipal assembly revealed that the central board of the PDI-P rejected allthe mayoral candidates—mostly not “insiders”—proposed by the Batam municipalboard, but failed to find qualified and popular candidates among the party’s localcadres.11 The central board accepted the nomination of Sahat Sianturi, the chairmanof the party’s municipal board since 1999, as the party’s deputy mayoral candidate.The central board then accepted Sahat’s recommendation of his own running mate,Nazief Dharma, a long-established bureaucrat who began his career as sub-districthead (camat) and served as the acting mayor of Batam (1999–2000) and then asthe head of Department of Industry and Trade in the provincial government of theRiau Archipelago.12

As the Batam case and elections in other regions show, coalition-building amongparties at the district/municipal level was not as straightforward as at the nationallevel (see also Mietzner 2007b; Vel 2005). The highly centralized management ofmajor parties has prevented local party politicians from making their own decisionsregarding who could run for local office. While local chapters selected potentialcandidates, usually through a series of meetings at the sub-district level, it is nationalleaders who have played a decisive role in deciding who was allowed to competein elections for local government heads and, thus, the possible partners for coalition-building in the regions.13 As we saw in the previous chapter, this dominance ofcentral boards has also changed the character of “money politics” in local elections.It is now political parties, not individual party representatives in local assemblies,that receive financial contributions from potential candidates.14

Compared to the previous gubernatorial election, the competition for the postof the Batam mayor looked much more closely contested with its relatively smallelectoral territory and campaign finance, making it almost impossible to predict theresult. Nonetheless, some predicted the Ahmad–Ria pair’s victory by pointing outthe smoothness of their nomination, the solidity of the supporting parties and theirpersonal profiles. In contrast, all the other pairs of candidates had relatively lesscompetitive profiles and the party coalitions supporting them were relatively fragilewith internal conflicts in individual parties.

Campaigns

The most striking feature of the campaigns in the 2006 Batam mayoral electionwas the almost total absence of parties, party machines and party platforms. Instead,campaigns were centered on personality and prestige, and an incoherent jumble ofmarginal issues. In the absence of parties, other social agents, such as regionalorganizations and the local media, played a more important role in the campaigns.Overall, the campaigns in Batam’s mayoral election resembled a politically detachedpopularity contest, rather than a competition of ideas, programs and policies.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 69

Replicating the patterns observed in the gubernatorial election of the RiauArchipelago and elections in other regions, candidates funded their own campaignsand received very limited support from their parties’ political machines.15 Campaignswere focused on personalities rather than platforms. Candidates laid out their“mission, vision, and programs” at the beginning of the campaigns, but their ideaswere more or less uniform, with often-heard promises for economic developmentand good governance, and not many people paid attention to them. A survey con-ducted by the national news agency Antara found a majority of the Batam electorategave their preferences to “commanding” (berwibawa, 54 percent) or “accomplished”(pandai, 41 percent) candidates (Media Kepri, December 5, 2005). In the absenceof policy debate, anything resembling candidates’ personalities and socio-economicbackgrounds became important considerations in voting.16

Diverse social organizations, including youth organizations, religious gatheringsand regional organizations, seemed to take on significant roles in influencingpeople’s choices of candidates. In particular, gatherings organized on ethnic orregional grounds seemed to have become more important and active in localpolitical developments. With a large share of the island’s population being migrants(pendatang), although they are themselves not political, regional organizations—especially those with close relationships between the leadership and the grassrootsmembers—seemed to influence the campaigns. Among them, the While HulubalangParamilitary Group (Laskar Hulubalang Putih), a Malay organization that boastedaround 10,000 members and its strong patron–client relationships, officiallydeclared its support for the Dahlan–Ria pair (No. 2) at the outset. “Forum 70,” asocial gathering of local leaders who came to Batam in the 1970s and initiated theisland’s development, also appeared to play in interesting role in local politics.Despite its informality, “Forum 70” appeared to have broad influence in the Batamsociety with its hundreds of members from business, politics and bureaucracy(including BIDA) circles. As the chairman of this informal but influential organ-ization, Ahmad Dahlan looked to be able to attract support from wide circles ofthe local elite.

Another important element in the campaigns was the local media. Journalistswhom I met in Batam commonly acknowledged that the local media had taken onbigger roles in local politics and the competition among them had also substantiallyincreased in the previous several years. The primary role of the media in localelections is to deliver basic information related to the electoral process to the localconstituents, helping out the local election commission in organizing the election.The media also introduces candidates to the local populations and helps them formopinions on the basis of the locally defined interests. In practice, however, theincumbents tend to get wider and more frequent coverage compared to low-profilecandidates. With a limited effect of debate on policies or programs and the signifi-cance of candidates’ popularities in the campaigns, the local media is frequentlyused in “black campaigning” by spreading unchecked information, questionablerumors and negative images of candidates. In general, the lack of professionaljournalism, reporters’ poor pay and the financial significance of receiving advertise-ments from local political institutions seem to contribute to unbalanced coverage

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

70 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

in many elections. Especially, as reporters of Batam Pos pointed out, the financialstability of a media company appears to be crucial in securing professional journal-ism and critical attitudes of reporters.17

Finally, in the absence of a heated debate on platforms, a jumble of marginalissues grabbed the spotlight in the Batam mayoral election. For example, the long-dragging dispute over the municipal minimum wage (upah minimum kota, UMK)overwhelmed the attention of many local populations, especially laborers. Severalserious floods during the campaigning period forced the candidates to perform reliefactivities instead of street convoys or social/religious gatherings.

Voting

Two points need to be considered in relation to the voting phase of the 2006 Batammayoral election. One is concerned with the limited resources and authority of thelocal General Election Commissions (KPUD), the institutions governing electionsof local government heads. The other is related to the patterns of voter turnout indirect local elections. KPUD Batam, with five members and 15 administrative staffdispatched by the municipal government, was responsible for staging the municipal-level election without any centrally coordinated assistance or monitoring.Organizing and staging an election for the first time, KPUD Batam faced manytechnical and systemic challenges, including issues related to updating voterregistration and educating the constituents about the election

Updating voter registration turned out to be one of the most challenging tasksto KPUD Batam, which had to rely on local government and assembly for its budgetand staff. To update voter registration, KPUD usually start by obtaining the dataused in the previous election from the Civil Registry Office (Dinas Kependudukandan Catatan Sipil) of the respective local government. They then verify the primarydata and encourage eligible but unregistered voters to register at the Sub-districtElection Commission (Panitia Pemilu Kacamatan, PPK), which has representativesat the village level. A minimum of six months’ residence is required to register asan eligible voter. Not only the KPUD Batam but almost all the KPUD in otherlocalities have faced two basic problems in updating voter registration: first, thequality of the updated list of registered voters depends heavily on the primary dataprovided by the Civil Registry Office, which operates under the respective localgovernment; second, the level of voluntary registration was quite low with verylittle help from political parties and local assembly members.

After some delay, KPUD Batam announced that there were 514,712 registeredvoters for the 2006 mayoral election, which had increased from 482,112 for thegubernatorial election held on June 30, 2005. Although there were some complaints,there was no legal dispute over voter registration, for which the members of theKPUD Batam gave a sigh of relief.

More registered voters did not guarantee higher voter turnout. Batam citizensseemed quite unenthusiastic about their first direct mayoral election, which wasreflected in the lowest voter turnout in the island’s recent political history. On

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 71

January 21, 2006, fewer than half of registered voters (45.1 percent) turned upacross the island. Three sub-districts in the hinterland (Belakang Padang, Bulangand Galang) saw higher turnouts with an average of 64 percent, while more denselyinhabited urban sub-districts recorded lower turnouts with an average of 43.5percent. As the fifth election held within less than two years, the mayoral electionsaw the lowest turnouts on the island: from 78 percent in the 2004 general electionsto 62 percent in the second round of the 2004 presidential election and to 52 percentin the 2005 gubernatorial election. What is the explanation for the low voter turnoutin the 2006 Batam mayoral election?

One important factor to consider is the growing political disillusionment amongthe local population. Many voters complained that there had been too manyelections, while those elections had brought about no meaningful change in theireveryday lives. Even journalists, who are directly or indirectly engaged in the issues,showed strong disbelief in, and even cynical attitudes toward, the democraticprocess. The gradual decline in voter turnout itself suggests that the local populationhave become increasingly detached from the political processes, and it hardlysignals the emergence of a vibrant local democracy.

Validation of the election results and inauguration

The election results revealed a somewhat surprising aspect of the election, notbecause of the winners but because of the unexpectedly tight competition betweenthe other three pairs of candidates. Compared to the results of the 2004 legislativeelection, the mayoral election results showed some consistency between partyaffiliation and voting behavior. However, given that political parties were almostentirely missing from the campaigns and that the local population knew the candi-dates relatively well, who were mostly well-established local officials, candidates’personalities and socio-economic backgrounds seemed likely to play a key role indetermining the election results. There were no legal disputes over the electionresults and the winners took office as scheduled.

On January 23, KPUD Batam announced the election results and declaredAhmad Dahlan and Ria Saptarika the winners. They won the election with 41.4percent of the vote, prevailing in the all the eight sub-districts (see Table 4.3).What was surprising about the election results was that the competition betweenthe other three pairs of candidates was much tighter than many had speculated.They received a more or less equal portion of the vote. Many people wereespecially surprised by the Basyid–Richard pair’s performance, coming secondin the four sub-districts, including all the three hinterland sub-districts. In mostpolls before the election, the Ahmad–Zulbahri pair and the Ahmad–Ria pair heldthe lead by narrow margins, leaving the other two pairs far behind. In a surveyconducted by Indonesian Survey Circle (LSI), the Basyid–Richard pair rankedfourth, with a projected 6 percent of the vote (Batam Pos, December 17, 2005).However, as a “local boy” from the hinterland, Abdullah Basyid succeeded inappealing to the hinterland communities, while as the only non-Muslim candidate,

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

72 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

Richard Pasaribu seemed to attract support from the Christian communities aswell as his own ethnic group, the Batak people.

If the election results are compared to the municipal level of the 2004 legislativeelection, it looks as if there is a linkage between party affiliations and votingbehavior (see Table 4.4). However, as described earlier, parties, party machinesand party platforms were almost completely absent from the campaigns. In theabsence of policy debate, anything resembling candidates’ personalities and socio-economic backgrounds looked crucial in voting. As shown in a survey in which amajority of the Batam electorate preferred “commanding” and “accomplished”candidates, candidates’ sosok—which refers to the candidate’s personality, fromthe person’s physical appearance to charismatic character and previous accomp-lishments—seemed to play a significant role, at least compared to voters’ partyaffiliations, in determining the election results.18

Unlike the previous gubernatorial election, there were no big controversies overthe election process and results in Batam. Each campaign team reported itscampaign funds, which KPUD Batam audited and made public. On March 1,

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 73

Table 4.3 Results of Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

No. Candidates Number of obtained votes

1 Ahmad Dahlan 45,051 (19.9%)Zulbahri

2 Ahmad Dahlan 93,616 (41.4%)Ria Saptarika

3 Abdullah Basyid 43,926 (19.4%)Richard Pasaribu

4 Nazief Soesila Dharma 43,193 (19.1%)Sahat Sianturi

Invalid votes 6,629 (0.2%)

Total 232,415 (100%)

Source: KPUD Batam.

Table 4.4 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election results compared with the municipal-levelresults of the 2004 legislative election

2004 general election results (%) 2006 mayoral election results (%)

PAN and PD (18.9) Ahmad–Zulbahri pair (19.9)

Golkar, PKS, PPP and PPDK (32) Ahmad–Ria pair (41.4)

PKB and PDS (14.4) Basyid–Richard pair (19.4)

PDI-P, Partai Pelopor, PNI Marhaenisme, Nazief–Sahat pair (19.1)PBSD and PPIB (21.8)

Source: KPUD Batam.

Ahmad Dahlan and Ria Saptarika were inaugurated as the first directly electedMayor and Deputy Mayor of Batam. The new Batam municipal government ledby long-established and experienced Ahmad Dahlan and respected engineer-turned-politician Ria Saptarika pointed toward political stability and the continuance ofdevelopment policies.19 In particular, both the domestic and the internationalbusiness communities warily anticipated that Ahmad Dahlan’s familiarity withBIDA would boast better coordination with BIDA.

Weakened local party politics and enhanced local powerstruggles

Among numerous arguments justifying the direct election of local governmentheads is that it will increase the responsiveness of elected officials to local needs.One take on Batam’s direct mayoral election is that it broke the local assembly’sstranglehold on local politics. After all, the local people, not dozens of assemblymembers, do indeed have the final say over who will be their government heads.However, the advent of direct local executive elections has not addressed a basicproblem: dominant parties play gatekeepers, and only those able to pay the gate-keepers get to contest elections. The Constitutional Court’s 2007 decision to allowindependent candidates to run for local elections seems to have brought aboutlittle change to this trend. My analysis of the Batam mayoral election also suggeststhat elections have weakened political parties at local levels (see also Buehler andTan 2007). Yet the weakening of political parties in local politics has not enhancedthe democratic quality of local politics. On the contrary, the paralysis of partieshas twisted the meaning of direct elections of local government heads. Direct localelections have rather contributed to the repositioning of long-established and well-resourced local elites in local political institutions and governance. I begin byshowing that direct local executive elections have not addressed the problem of“money politics” because candidate recruitment in most cases still depends onparties. I then argue that, with nomination door slightly ajar, only political andeconomic elites slip through. I will demonstrate how this worked in the Batam case.

Most political parties failed to nominate qualified and popular cadres and choseto support powerful and well-resourced local elites.20 This pattern of parties’candidate recruitment turned out to be problematic because it tends not to reducethe significance of “money politics” in local elections, but instead alters theircharacter. In direct elections of local government heads, it is now political parties,not individual party representatives in local assemblies, who receive money frompotential candidates. Therefore, we observe an ironic development in contemporaryIndonesia’s local politics as a result of the combination of the centralized manage-ment of political parties with the introduction of direct local elections. Politicalparties, especially national leaders rather than local cadres, recruit well-resourcedlocal elites as candidates for local government heads. Correspondingly, as the PANand the PDI-P in Batam show, this centralizing pretension of parties’ central boardsin Jakarta has exacerbated tensions between national party leaderships and localcadres.21 Deprived of autonomy to make their own decisions and, perhaps more

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

74 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

importantly, access to money, local chapters of parties were largely absent fromthe process of direct local elections. Unsurprisingly, ideology and substantive policydebates played a negligible role in many elections.22

Instead of political parties, diverse political and economic local elites dominatedthe electoral competition for local power and governance.23 Observing well-resourced local elites run for governors, regents and mayors across the country,many observers speculated about the emergence of “big kings” in the regions.24 Inmany cases, the emergence of “big kings” was usually accompanied by intensivecompetition between different political and economic interests, in which the existentpolitical, economic and social settings of the locality play an important role. In fact,the power struggle between diverse local elites in the Batam mayoral election turnedout to be quite tense, mostly due to the tension that had brewed over the previousfive years between a national-level development agency (i.e., BIDA) and adecentralized local authority (i.e., the municipal government).

Recognizing the dangers of the overlap between a selected and an electedauthority, an increasing number of stakeholders have called for clearer lines ofauthority. Nada Faza Soraya, chairwoman of the Batam Chamber of Commerceand Industry, is among the most outspoken. In a meeting at her office in February2006, Ms Soraya argued that Batam should be granted “indisputable legal status”and that BIDA and the municipal government be integrated into a single body.25

Indeed, a national government regulation on the working relationship betweenBIDA and the municipal government has been under consideration since 2000,but it is still unclear when it will be put into effect.26

Under these circumstances, the election of Ahmad Dahlan, a familiar face toBIDA officials, as new Batam mayor indicates that the political landscape of Batamwas changing in a way that might just rescue Batam from its “split personality.”As a self-identified “local boy” born in Batam, Ahmad Dahlan appeared to havetaken advantage of his BIDA affiliations in his bid for mayorship and was not shyabout boasting of his well-rounded relationships with BIDA. When I met him inlate March 2006, he did not deny rumors that he would invite experienced BIDAofficials to hold several strategic positions in his government, such as head of theHealth Office and head of the Local Planning Board.27 He insisted that what hadkept the two institutions from working together effectively had more to do with“poor communication” than competition, and that his good relationship with his“colleagues” at BIDA would resolve that problem easily. While the centralgovernment’s designs on Batam’s institutional arrangement remain murky, personalrelations linking Batam’s mayor and BIDA seemed to bring about some meaningfulchange. Indeed, by successfully realizing his plan to work with BIDA to provideinvestors with “one-stop service” for business licensing, he seems to have improvedBatam’s investment climate dramatically.28 The new Batam mayor also admittedthat he was planning to revise “problematic” regulations and by-laws issued bythe previous municipal administrations. The city’s official launch as an FTZ in 2009may highlight his administration’s success in cultivating a better, more collaborativerelationship with BIDA (see also Evaquarta 2008, 11). However, whether and how

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Batam’s 2006 mayoral election 75

his administration has actually changed the organizational interests and behaviorof the two competing authorities requires a more detailed examination.29

No matter what took place, the Batam mayoral election changed the island’spolitical setting. The direct election system provided competing local interests withopportunities to contest over the decentralized political institutions and governance,and produced a happy realignment of diverse local elites. More broadly, the Batamcase shows that power struggle between different groups of local elites, ratherthan party politics, tends to shape the process and results of Indonesia’s directlocal executive elections.

The 2006 Batam mayoral election has its own historic significance in Indonesia’songoing process of democratization and decentralization as a part of the country’snew experiments that allow the local people to elect their own governor, mayorsand regents. Batam held its first direct mayoral election when the decentralizedmunicipal government was in conflict with BIDA, the national-level agency incharge of the island’s economic development. The open electoral competitionsprovided diverse local interests with opportunities to contest and realign themselvesto control the island’s governance. In their bid for mayorship, entrenched andwell-resourced local elites had to obtain candidacy from political parties, butmanaged their campaigns with their own resources, while parties were largelymissing from the scene. Political parties did not play an important role in voting,either. Instead, candidates’ socio-economic backgrounds, previous accomplish-ments and patrimonial networks seemed to play a key role in determining theelection results. The election of an experienced BIDA-associated bureaucrat asBatam’s new mayor allowed both the local society and international businesscommunity to cautiously expect an improved investment climate on the island.

Batam’s first direct mayoral election indeed changed the island’s politicaldynamics. However, holding direct local elections did not, in and of itself, enhancethe democratic quality of local politics. Political parties kept their monopoly overthe nomination of candidates in the election. Only those who were capable of obtainingcandidacy from parties could contest elections. Despite their privilege as the onlyinstitutions eligible to nominate candidates, Indonesian political parties generallyfailed to make their presence felt in direct local elections. In response to tight controlof parties’ national leaderships, local cadres stayed away from the electoral process.As a result, direct local elections paradoxically paralyzed political parties at locallevels. In place of paralyzed political parties, entrenched and well-resourced localelites contested against each other in their bid for local executive heads. Experiencesof holding direct local elections in Batam and other localities show that such electionsseem to have benefited only selected elites, challenging the dominant assumption thatdirect local elections would herald the arrival of local democracy. Formally holdingdirect local elections was just the beginning of a long journey toward realizing suchintended outcomes as improved responsiveness and accountability of local gover-nance in practice. It remains an open-ended journey, and the process and outcomesof direct local elections ultimately depend on the political and economic settings ofthe locality, the political and economic interests and capacities of diverse local actors,and political attitudes and behavior of local populations.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

76 Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

5 The reassertion of patrimonial politicsDepok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections*

By most accounts, today’s Indonesia is a democratic polity. There is little consensuson the character of the country’s democracy, however. Both optimistic and realisticaccounts of Indonesia’s politics commonly, whether implicitly or explicitly, assumethat Indonesia’s polity is, if imperfectly democratic, at least quite stable. In thischapter, I suggest that Indonesia’s formal democratic institutions remain vulnerableto patrimonial manipulation in the context of an increasingly competitive andoligarchic struggle for decentralized power and governance. Through an analysisof elections in two localities, Depok and Banyuwangi, I show that the emergingdynamics of Indonesia’s local politics contain a sometimes discordant mix of demo-cratic aspirations and ongoing patrimonial influence over democratic institutions.In both Depok and Banyuwangi, elections and the controversies surrounding themignited intense social conflict among competing local interests. In both cases,entrenched local elites deployed patrimonial power to stall and hinder democraticpolitical processes. In both cases, the exercise of patrimonial politics generatedsimmering political controversies that still have lingering effects today. It may bereasonably argued that, given the “smooth” conduct of elections in most otherlocalities, the cases of Depok and Banyuwangi are exceptions rather than the rule.In most other elections, including other cases in this book, entrenched elitesmanaged to win elections to secure their control over local governance, and maintaintheir patrimonial networks without difficulty. My argument is that the Depok andBanyuwangi elections reveal the potential threat of decentralized political com-petition in which entrenched elites rely on patrimonial power relations and massmobilization in running political institutions and intimidating new power-seekers.The cases of Depok and Banyuwangi suggest that the coincidence of formallydemocratic institutions, patrimonial domination and emotional mass mobilizationhave the potential to generate political and social uncertainty. At the same time,the vulnerability of Indonesia’s local political institutions to patrimonial manipula-tion may not pose a serious threat to the country’s political stability. In the end,entrenched elites in the two localities failed to secure their political domination andcontrol over local governance. New leaders have shown some, though limited,change in their style of politics and policies. At the same time, these new leadersalso rely on patrimonial politics to operate local institutions and particularly infacing the continuous challenge from entrenched elites. Left unaddressed, the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

consistent patrimonial operation of political institutions, in which particularisticinterests dictate, will continue to contradict the image of vibrant democracy inIndonesia.

The terms of “patrimonialism” or “patrimonial politics” in this chapter refer tothe domination of the patron–client type of linkages and the pervasiveness ofpersonal, rather than universalistic, interests in the operation of political institutions.Patrimonial politics is mainly concerned with the capacity of power-holders tomaintain power and influence by various mechanisms, and this chapter does notspecifically distinguish its modern types (known as “neo-patrimonialism”) fromtraditional ones.1 In the case of Indonesia, Soekarno’s Guided Democracy2 andSoeharto’s Pancasila Democracy3 regimes have been discussed as examples ofthe country’s patrimonialism (Crouch 1979). Despite a decade of political reformsince 1998, Indonesia’s contemporary democracy has been defined by DouglasWebb as a “patrimonial democracy,” in which “holders of public offices exploittheir position primarily for personal rather than ‘universalistic’ ends” (Webber2006, 397). Political competition predominantly involves mass mobilization andthe distribution of spoils, while patrimonial norms and practices are often blamedfor the country’s pervasive and rampant corruption. In other words, the dailyoperation of political institutions in Indonesia remains patrimonial. The questionis whether and how local elites have adjusted their patrimonial practices andbehavior in accordance with democratic changes in the political system resultingfrom post-reformasi decentralization policies.

The analysis is organized in three sections. In the first and second sections, Ianalyze elections in Depok and Banyuwangi in turn. I examine the election pro-cesses—from the nomination of candidates, to campaigns, voting and the validationof election results—and the controversies that erupted. In Depok, entrenched elitesled by the losing candidates captured the weak and corrupt legal system. InBanyuwangi, entrenched elites manipulated their power and sought to maintaindominance in local political institutions through accustomed networks and emo-tional mass mobilization. My analysis finds that, in both localities, local elitesbypassed due political processes. Elite politics and the mass mobilization ofsupporters, made possible through patrimonial alliances, strongly influenced thetwo localities’ political dynamics. Ultimately, in both cases, entrenched elites failedto maintain their monopoly over local power and governance, a development thatcould be taken as evidence that democratic mechanisms functioned effectively in each case. However, it is still unclear how the rise of less conventional, lessentrenched elite candidates has affected the old patterns of local politics in whichinformal networks and practices play key roles. I argue that the cases of Depokand Banyuwangi, along with dozens of similar but less publicized controversies,demonstrate the vulnerability of formal democratic institutions to local politicalmanipulation, particularly to local elites’ patrimonial politics.4 Finally, in the thirdsection, I conclude by discussing the practical impact of direct local elections onpower struggles among local elites and the changing dynamics of local politicsmore broadly.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

78 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

The 2005 Depok mayoral election

Depok’s 2005 mayoral election was its first and preceded direct elections of localgovernment heads in other strategically important cities, including Jakarta’s inAugust 2007. Many people saw the city’s first direct mayoral election as a litmustest of the impact of Indonesia’s political decentralization on national as well aslocal power struggles. As we shall see below, Depok’s mayoral election intensifiedthe political competition among local elites, and this competition was marked byold styles of patrimonial manipulation. In what follows, I first discuss the Depokelection in terms of its national significance and its local political contest. I thenexamine the process of nominating the candidates, in which major parties playedgatekeepers and controversies over the election results became highly contentious,not only in the city but also nationwide. I conclude the analysis by discussing howand with what effect the Depok elites’ patrimonial political manipulation con-tributed to the conflicts over the city’s first direct mayoral election.

The Depok election’s national significance

Depok is a city south of and adjacent to Jakarta. As such, it is part of the Jabotabek(Jakarta–Depok–Bogor–Tangerang–Bekasi) metro area, the tenth most populousmetro area in the world. Depok became an administrative city in March 1982 andwas officially designated as a “city” in 1999. The current population, in 2009, standsat around 1.5 million, mostly comprised of college students, office or factoryworkers, and a large, conservative Muslim constituency. Following the develop-ment and expansion of industry and commerce in the Jabotabek area, middle-classhouseholds have multiplied in Depok, adding dynamism to the local economy andpolitics. Many high-ranking national officials live in Depok. It is also home to theUniversity of Indonesia. With its proximity to Jakarta and its reputation as the homeof several major universities, Depok has become strategically significant in thecountry’s economy and politics. Therefore, Depok’s first direct mayoral electionwas nationally and even geopolitically important. Given the city’s proximity toJakarta, major parties could not underestimate the election’s potential spill-overimpact on national politics and Jakarta politics, in particular.

Additionally, the 2005 Depok mayoral election took place in a context wherelocal governments were regaining their control over the decision-making processin the regions. Since local assemblies emerged as new loci of power in 1999, localgovernment officials have adapted to the changed power configuration by reward-ing local assembly members, financially or through other means, for their co-operation and collaboration. Excessive perks and financial rewards for localassembly members became common across the country.5 In response to the decen-tralized and increasingly prevalent money politics in the regions, national authoritiesbegan to bring hundreds of corrupt local officials before the courts, while theyadopted a direct-election system for local government heads. The Depok mayoralelection was one of such elections aimed to enhance the legitimacy and positionof local government heads in relation to their legislative counterparts.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 79

Depok’s local political context

In addition to these national concerns, there were important local issues and interestsat stake in Depok’s election. The biggest issue was corruption. In September 2004,22 members of the Depok municipal assembly who had served during the period1999–2004, including the chairman and two deputy chairmen, were prosecutedfor misusing the local budget for their personal needs. In 2002, a total of Rp. 15billion had been allocated to assembly members’ operational activities, and Rp. 9.5billion of it was allegedly used to cover assembly members’ personal expenses,such as for paying installments on houses, repairing cars and buying life insurancepolicies (Kompas, September 11, 2004; September 15, 2004). By the time the localpolice announced its investigation of these 22 members, 13 had been re-elected inthe April 2004 general elections for the period 2004–9. Depok citizens rejectedthose re-elected members, condemning them as illegitimate and untrustworthy.Despite popular protests and the evidence against them, these municipal assemblymembers refused to step down and instead held their inauguration ceremony inthe local government building’s auditorium—not in the customary assemblybuilding—a day earlier than scheduled (Kompas, September 4, 2004). In responseto the hasty inauguration, hundreds of local people staged a rally and demandedthat the newly inaugurated assembly members sign a declaration stating that theywere morally committed to anti-corruption. Eighteen of 45 members signed it,including all 12 members of the Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) that had vigorouslycampaigned on an anti-corruption platform in 2004 (Tempointeraktif, September3, 2004). In January 2006, 17 assembly members who had served in the 1999–2004term were sentenced to two years in jail for misusing Rp. 7.3 billion. Among theconvicted were the former chairman, Sutadi (PDI-P), and the former deputychairman and newly elected chairman for the period 2004–9, Naming D. Bothin(Golkar) (Pikiran Rakyat, January 25, 2006).

Given these circumstances, many Depok assembly members did not welcomethe presence of the PKS and, particularly, that party’s strong anti-corruptionrhetoric. Qurtifa Wijaya, chairman of the PKS fraksi at the municipal assembly,explained that when the PKS claimed the majority of seats in this governing body,there was some sort of “collective rejection” among the other representatives againstthe PKS members.6 He argued that, from the beginning, his party’s representativeshad difficulty in communicating with other assembly members and were isolatedfrom decision-making processes. By the time the 2005 mayoral election was held,the PKS was unable (and unwilling) to build a coalition with other parties anddecided to nominate its own candidates.

Corrupt incumbent vs. “clean government” advocate

The two major contestants in the mayoral election were the incumbent, backed bya Golkar-led coalition, and an ambitious challenger supported by the PKS. Golkar,Indonesia’s majority party at the national level and the second biggest party inDepok, was especially keen to maintain and even expand its influence over the city.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

80 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

With the incumbent mayor being its loyal cadre, Golkar estimated that a victoryin Depok would help the party’s gubernatorial candidates in Jakarta and beyond.For the PKS, in the meantime, the Depok mayoral race was a crucial strategic test. Having won the 2004 general elections in Depok and Jakarta, the PKS partymembers viewed the 2005 mayoral election as an opportunity to consolidate itsinfluence over the Jabotabek metro area and use the resulting momentum to launchits efforts at nationwide expansion.

The process of nominating candidates for Depok’s mayoral election resembledthat of other regional elections: dominant political parties functioned as gatekeepersin selecting candidates. As discussed in Chapter 1, only political parties or partycoalitions, with 15 percent or more of assembly seats or having received 15 percentof more of the vote in the general election, are eligible to nominate candidates indirect local elections. Thus, Depok’s 2004 general election outcomes allowed onlythe PKS, Golkar and the Democrat Party (PD) to nominate mayoral candidates ontheir own (see Table 5.1). Five other parties controlled the remaining seats, whichamounted to a third of the assembly.

After several months of intense negotiations, two parties and three coalitionsnominated five pairs of candidates (see Table 5.2). The PKS and the PD eachnominated its own candidates, while Golkar built a coalition with the NationalAwakening Party (PKB). The other parties formed two other coalitions: the PDI-P formed a coalition with the Islamic-oriented United Development Party (PPP)and the Christian-based Prosperous Peace Party (PDS), while the National MandateParty (PAN) formed a coalition with four small parties, the Crescent Star Party(Partai Bulan Bintang, PBB), the Reform Star Party (Partai Bintang Reformasi,PBR), the Concern for the National Functional Party (Partai Karya Peduli Bangsa,PKPB) and the Indonesian Justice and Unity Party (Partai Keadilan dan PersatuanIndonesia, PKPI).

Although there were five pairs of candidates, the election quickly became a racebetween candidates backed by the PKS and the Golkar-led coalition. Golkar wasthe established power in Depok and had effectively controlled the mayorship since1999. The Golkar-led coalition backed Badrul Kamal, the incumbent mayor

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 81

Table 5.1 Party composition in the Depok municipal assembly(2004–9)

Political parties Number of seats Percentage of total

PKS 12 27Golkar 8 18PD 8 18PDI-P 5 11PAN 5 11PPP 4 9PKB 2 4PDS 1 2

Total 45 100

(1999–2004) and an in-law of West Java Governor Danny Setiawan. Given thatBadrul Kamal had been elected by members of the municipal assembly, the directelection was a test of his legitimacy and accountability. When the election tookplace, however, Badrul Kamal was under investigation by the Corruption EradicationCommission (Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi) in relation to the corruption casementioned earlier. Along with 17 members of the municipal assembly, he wascharged with misusing Rp. 9.5 billion from the city’s 2002 budget. He was ultimatelynot convicted but still suffered from this blow to his legitimacy and the public’simpression that he had been guilty of corruption. He sought support from diversepolitical and economic local elites, particularly from those used to his patrimonialstyle of governance and interested in sustaining the existing executive-legislativepower relations.7

The city’s power relations in June 2005 were quite different from those of theprevious period. Through the 2004 general elections, the PKS and the PD emergedas strong competitors against major parties such as Golkar. While the PD waseffectively just an electoral vehicle for Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s presidentialambitions, the PKS was a more substantive political party, with a platform and aview to using Depok as a launch pad to contest Jakarta’s 2007 gubernatorial electionand the 2009 national elections.8 In fact, in its ambition to stand shoulder-to-shoulderwith other major parties such as Golkar, the party had moderated its staunch Islamicprinciples and, to compensate for that adaptation, had amplified its fight againstcorruption and poverty.9 To boost its chances in Depok, the PKS nominated a high-profile young candidate: Nurmahmudi Ismail, the former minister of Forestry andPlantations (1999–2000), educated in the United States.10 Younger and more profes-sional leaders, such as Nurmahmudi Ismail, were regarded as crucial in convincingthe people of the party’s more moderate and progressive image (International HeraldTribune, March 21, 2006). Unfortunately, although he was to campaign on an anti-corruption theme, Nurmahmudi was himself involved in an environmental case,for during his term as the Minister of Forestry and Plantations, he had been accused

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

82 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

Table 5.2 Candidates and supporting parties in Depok’s 2005 mayoral election

Candidates Supporting parties Number of seats (%)

Nurmahmudi Ismail PKS 12 (26.7%)Yuyun Wirasaputra

Badrul Kamal Golkar and PKB 10 (22.2%)Syihabuddin Ahmad

Yus Rusyandi PDI-P, PPP and PDS 10 (22.2%)Soetadi Dipowongso

Abdul Wahab Abidin PD 8 (17.8%)Ilham Wijaya

Harun Heryana PAN, PBB, PBR, PKPB 5 (11.1% but received Farkhan A.R. and PKPI 17.7% of the vote in the

2004 general elections)

of having issued a permit for a company to develop plantations in East Kalimantanthat eventually brought about severe forest degradation on the island. He was lateracquitted.

“Correcting” the election results

The Depok mayoral election proceeded relatively smoothly and peacefully. Over61 percent of registered voters cast their votes on June 26, 2005. However, theelection results quickly became controversial as, even before they were announced,Badrul’s supporters began staging demonstrations protesting the results of “quickcounting.” On June 28, a group of Badrul’s supporters sat in the office of the Depok branch of the General Election Commission (KPUD Depok) and demandedvote counting be suspended (Kompas, June 29, 2005; Pikiran Rakyat June 29,2005). On July 6, the KPUD Depok announced the election results, declaring thatNurmahmudi and his deputy mayoral candidate had won the contest with 43 percentof the valid votes. Five official witnesses who watched the polls endorsed the KPUDDepok’s authorization (Kompas, July 7, 2005).

Badrul and his supporters did not relent. Right after the election results wereannounced, Badrul filed his complaint with the West Java High Court concerningthe registration of eligible voters at the KPUD Depok (Kompas, July 13, 2005). Ata court hearing held on July 21, the Badrul camp advanced two arguments. First,they accused the KPUD Depok of committing fraud in the process of voter regis-tration, and asserted that the KPUD’s deliberate disenfranchisement of a numberof citizens had resulted in deflating (digembosi) the tally of their candidate’s support.In other words, they argued that they lost because their unregistered supportershad not been allowed to cast ballots. Second, they claimed that Nurmahmudi’s votewas inflated (digelembungkan) because the KPUD Depok had allowed non-Depokresidents to vote.11 The court heard the testimony from 11 witnesses chosen byBadrul’s lawyers and one witness representing the KPUD Depok. Spokespersonsfor Nurmahmudi’s side were not invited to the hearing. They were not alone inbelieving that Badrul’s argument had no legal or factual basis.

In fact, in legal terms, the Depok case had at least two flaws. First, according tothe law, the court hearing had to be held within 14 days after the court acceptedthe complaint, but this court’s decision was three days late.12 Second, the law limitsthe aspects of an election that can be legally considered and challenged; onlyirregularities in the tallying of votes constitute a legitimate legal issue, which meansthe court should not have taken into account votes that had not even been cast.Unexpectedly, however, the chief judge of the West Java High Court had a differentview. On August 4, the High Court decided to accept Badrul’s argument that hissupporters had been unable to cast their votes because they were not registeredand thus, the election results had “undercounted” the actual votes that he couldotherwise have received. The court annulled the election results on the ground thatthe results were tarnished by rampant vote rigging, which in turn led to the “over-counting” of votes won by the Nurmahmudi–Yuyun’s partnership (see Table 5.3)

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 83

(The Jakarta Post, August 5, 2005). As one critical observer put it, “the judgeseffectively registered the voters and punched the ballots—all on Badrul’s behalf.”13

Nurmahmudi’s party supporters were shocked by the court’s ruling, but theycould not respond directly to the court’s decision because the case was set up as adispute between the Badrul–Syihabuddin pair and the KPUD Depok. The otherthree pairs of candidates immediately rejected the High Court’s decision because,according to the chairman of the KPUD Depok, “they knew who had won theelection.”14 The only option the Nurmahmudi–Yuyun pair had was to assist theKPUD Depok in seeking legal advice.15 But they also had to find a way of engagingthemselves in the case, which had nullified their apparent victory. Following thedecision, Depok society descended into social turmoil marked by incessant massrallies, divided communities, politicized bureaucrats and stalled governance, anupheaval that lasted for the next six months.16

In attempting to explain controversies over election results such as Depok’s,many commentators have directed their attention to the alleged missteps demon-strating the incompetence of the KPUD, the institutions governing elections of localgovernment heads. In fact, these commissions have proven to be a weak link inIndonesia’s direct local elections; their troubles commonly stem from their mem-bers’ limited experience, dependence on external resources, and weak authority.Organizing and staging an election for the first time without national coordinationis a formidable task. Moreover, each KPUD has to do so with a limited andinexperienced staff whose members, in turn, have to rely on a dozen administrativestaff dispatched by the local government. As in Depok, updating the list of registeredvoters was one of the most difficult tasks many KPUD have confronted, and it hasusually led to charges against them for incompetence or logistical failures (Kompas,April 8, 2005; November 5, 2005).

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

84 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

Table 5.3 Election results of Depok’s Election Commission and the West Java HighCourt

Pair of candidates Number of votes Number of votes after the ruling by obtained in polls the West Java High Court

Nurmahmudi Ismail 232,610 204,828 (after deducting 27,782)Yuyun Wirasaputra

Badrul Kamal 206,781 269,551 (after adding 62,770)Syihabuddin Ahmad

Yus Rusyandi 34,096 No changeSutadi Dipowongso

Abdul Wahab Abidin 32,461 No changeIlham Wijaya

Harun Heryana 23,859 No changeFarkhan A.R.

Total 529,807 564,795

Source: Depok’s branch of the General Election Commission (KPUD Depok).

While the KPUD do indeed represent an outstanding problem in Indonesia’selectoral system, these commissions have also become convenient scapegoats forthose complaining about problems whose roots lie elsewhere. No matter whereultimate responsibility may lie, and frequently in the absence of any evidence, losingcandidates now tend to routinely blame the KPUD for being biased or incompetentor both. While the KPUD’s problems are serious, most electoral disputes have beenmotivated by heightened competition among local elites over local power andgovernance, rather than the KPUD’s deliberate or unintended maneuvering. Thecase of Depok exemplifies this sort of misplaced blame, and it became controversialnationally because the West Java High Court—particularly its chief justice—madea bizarre decision. It was the first and, so far, the last case in which the judiciaryoverturned post-New Order local election results in Indonesia. Judiciaries of otherregions have dealt with similar complaints in different ways.17 The root of theconflict in Depok was not the dispute over the fairness of the election results, butthe capture of the local judiciary by entrenched power.

Conflict management

No matter how controversial it proved to be, the West Java High Court’s verdictwas “final and binding,” in accordance with the governing system of direct localelections, as outlined in Law No. 32 of 2004. To the PKS and its supporters, thedecision was entirely illegitimate and unacceptable (The Jakarta Post, August 8,2005). They were not alone in their outrage. The reversal of the election results bythe court in the absence of evidence exposed the weakness and inconsistency ofelectoral rules and undermined the public’s trust in democratic political institutionalmore generally.18 To overturn the High Court’s “binding and final” decision, thePKS placed pressure on the KPUD Depok, which, in turn, brought the case beforethe Supreme Court. Although the Supreme Court was initially reluctant to hearthe case, it finally did so, and the results further polarized Depok’s political elitesand their supporters.19

On August 5, the PKS supporters staged a protest in front of the West Java HighCourt in Bandung, while hundreds of local people, organized by the Joint Forumfor the Depok Community (Forum Bersama Masyarakat Depok), held another rallyin front of the Depok City Hall (Tempointeraktif, August 6, 2005). National leadersof the two parties also took up the battle to support their cadres’ bid for local powerand governance. Jusuf Kalla, Indonesia’s vice president and Golkar’s chairman atthat time, asked all the parties to accept the court verdict, while Hidayat Nur Wahid,the PKS’s former president and the chairman of the People’s Consultative Assembly(MPR), urged the Supreme court to abrogate its delegation of mandate to the WestJava High Court, which he denounced as unprofessional (Kompas, August 6, 2005;Bisnis Indonesia, August 10, 2005). The PKS quickly made several additionalstrategic maneuvers. The party treated the case as a litmus test of Indonesia’s newelectoral democracy. As the party’s chairman of the Election Victory Board, M. Razikun, argued, the Depok case demonstrated how the country’s new democ-racy was being threatened and damaged by the “justice mafia” (mafia peradilan).20

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 85

The party registered its complaints regarding the West Java High Court’s decisionat the Judicial Commission (Komisi Yudisial) and also reported to the police thattwo election supervisory committee officials had given false testimony at the courthearing (The Jakarta Post, August 12, 2005).

The KPUD Depok held a plenary session on August 6, one day after the protestby the PKS supporters, and decided to challenge the West Java High Court’sdecision. From the KPUD Depok’s standpoint, the court’s decision to overturnthe election results was a result of political maneuvering by certain groups of localelites. Given its limited resources, the KPUD Depok needed legal assistance topursue its challenge, and that assistance came from both the provincial KPUD andthe PKS.21 On August 16, the KPUD Depok appealed to the Supreme Court toreview the West Java high Court’s decision.22 Following the KPUD Depok’s move,the supporters of Badrul, on the one hand, and the PKS, on the other, staged pro-and anti-KPUD Depok rallies, respectively (Tempointeraktif, August 25, 2005).Diverse NGOs, including the Center for Electoral Reform, urged the Supreme Courtto make a decision as soon as possible in order to keep the masses from beingemotionally carried away. The chief judge of the Supreme Court, Bagir Manan,was initially reluctant to get involved in the case. When the controversy wasreported in the media, he immediately stated that the Depok case could not beappealed to the Supreme Court because the West Java High Court’s decision was“final and binding.” Prominent lawyer Adnan Buyung Nastion criticized BagirManan for unwisely commenting on the Depok case. Given that he was going todeal with the case, the judge was not supposed to comment on it prematurely. AdnanBuyung Nastion decided to help advise Nurmahmudi’s lawyers because, as heexplained, “the High Court only implements the Supreme Court’s authority becauseit is delegated. If the delegation of authority is misused or used incorrectly, of coursethe Supreme Court is authorized to re-examine it.”23

An investigation team of the Supreme Court evaluated the evidence andconcluded that the five judges of the West Java High Court had exceeded the limitsof the court’s authority.24 This finding did not mean that the decision itself wasreversed, however. Judge Paulus E. Lotulung, the team’s leader, only recommendedthe Supreme Court impose sanctions against the five judges.25 On September 15,the Judicial Commission also concluded that the West Java High Court’s judgeshad acted unprofessionally and recommended that chief judge Nana Juwana besuspended for a year and the other four judges be given written reprimands.26

However, months passed before the Supreme Court decided to oversee the fivejudges and prohibited them from dealing with lawsuits for one or two years.

Despite continuous mass rallies and the growing public concern about thevacuum of governance, it took almost three months for the Supreme Court to takeaction on the controversy (The Jakarta Post, September 25, 2005; Kompas,September 29, 2005; October 20, 2005). While the case was waiting to be addressedby the court, the internal conflicts within the municipal government and themunicipal assembly, as well as tension among citizens, were exacerbated.27 OnDecember 16, the Court decided to accept the KPUD Depok’s request for a judicialreview and annulled the West Java High Court’s decision “because the High Court’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

86 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

judges exceeded [their] authority and the limits of the law” (Kompas, December17, 2005; Manan, Kustini and Nuraini 2006).

Old tricks, old politics

By the time the Supreme Court announced its decision, the controversy had alreadyspilled over into other arenas of Depok society, heightening tensions within itsdifferent segments. Depok’s political atmosphere became highly polarized,particularly when some sub-district heads (camat) and village heads sided withBadrul and refused to accept Nurmahmudi’s victory. On December 19, repre-sentatives of four parties that had supported the Badrul–Syihabuddin pair (i.e.,Golkar, PAN, PPP and PKB) submitted a written rejection of the Supreme Court’sdecision to the Department of Home Affairs. The PD also criticized the SupremeCourt for its inconsistency (Tempointeraktif, December 19, 2005). The next day,grassroots supporters, divided into groups supporting either Badrul or Nurmahmudi,clashed at the Cibinong Court, where a corruption case against 17 Depok municipalassembly members (1999–2004) was being held. The two groups encountered eachother again in front of the Depok City Hall later the same day (Tempointeraktif,December 20, 2005).

On December 30, 42 out of 63 village heads in Depok sent a statement rejectingthe Supreme Court’s decision to President Yudhoyono and a number of stateinstitutions, including the national assembly (DPR) and the Minister of HomeAffairs (Tempointeraktif, January 3, 2006). Surprised by such an unusual move bylow-level civil servants, the Public Servant Corps (Korps Pegawai RepublikIndonesia, Korpri) warned that it would sanction the 42 village heads becausethey should have maintained their impartiality in such a case (Tempointeraktif,January 4, 2006). However, as it later turned out, the letter was a result of somekind of political maneuvering on Badrul’s side. A Kompas report disclosed thatsome of the village heads had thought they were simply signing a guest list whenthey visited Badrul’s house on December 28, and that this list of signatures waslater attached to the statement rejecting the Supreme Court’s decision withouttheir consent (Kompas, January 5, 2006). Badrul Kamal acknowledged that hehad met with village heads, but denied that he had tricked them in this way.However, then some village heads argued that they had not even attended themeeting at Badrul’s house (Kompas, January 5, 2005). Seven village heads issueda letter of protest, arguing that they were not informed about the statement rejectingthe Supreme Court’s decision and that they would not have signed the list if theyhad been informed of such an intention beforehand. They sent the letter to thepresident and other state institutions (Antara, January 8, 2006).

On January 2, 2006, members of the Depok municipal assembly finally agreedto take action. They sent to West Java’s governor both a request that Nurmahmudibe inaugurated and a protest letter from Badrul’s lawyers (Kompas, January 3,2006). Still, both Governor Danny Setiawan and secretary general of theDepartment of Home Affairs Progo Nurdjaman were reluctant to take the respon-sibility of making a final decision (Kompas, January 4, 2006). Meanwhile, Bardul’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 87

side tried to overturn the Supreme Court’s decision. On January 4, Badrul’s attorneypresented an appeal to the Constitutional Court arguing that the Supreme Court’sdecision had violated Law No. 32 of 2004 (Tempointeraktif, January 10, 2006).He argued that the law states elections disputes at the district/municipal level shouldbe handled by regional high courts and that their decisions are “final and binding.”However, the next day Governor Danny Setiawan finally requested the Ministerof Home Affairs to approve the inauguration of Nurmahmudi Ismail and YuyunWirasaputra. The Ministry of Home Affairs was still hesitant to make its finaldecision, while Badrul’s supporters continued to stage protests against the inaugura-tion plan (Tempointeraktif, January 12, 2006). On January 25, the ConstitutionalCourt officially rejected the petition submitted by Badrul’s allies. The followingday, Nurmahmudi Ismail and Yuyun Wirasaputra were finally sworn in as the firstdirectly elected Depok mayor and deputy mayor (Kompas, January 26, 2006; TheJakarta Post, January 26, 2006).

The conflicts over the Depok mayoral election were triggered by a flawed legaldecision made by the West Java High Court, but the case also illustrates the impactof Indonesia’s ongoing political and administrative decentralization on its localpolitics: increasingly fierce power struggles are taking place between competingpolitical and economic elites in the country’s regions. Nationally, Depok’s electionwas seen as critical to the Jakarta gubernatorial election and the general electionsin the following years. In Depok, the election was about Badrul Kamal’s admini-stration, which seemed to have nurtured corrupt and paternalistic relationships withassembly members and bureaucrats. The election results were thus seen as reflectingthe local population’s longing for cleaner and more accountable governance. Asone of the few high-profile local election disputes, the Depok mayoral electionshows that Indonesia’s local power struggles are as fierce as ever. Indonesia’s localpower contestation has also become oligarchic, as entrenched and well-financedelites dominate the electoral stage across the country.

In addition, the response of Depok’s local elites to the conflict shows that theintensified local power struggle has been accompanied by old-fashioned elitepolitical maneuvering, rather than ideal democratic processes, such as expandedpopular participation and the strengthening of civil society. Elite politics and thepolitics of mobilizing the masses through patrimonial networks played significantroles in deciding Depok’s political dynamics. Two rival elite groups not only triedto take advantage of their national connections in their bid for local power, butalso relied heavily on top-down mass mobilization to show their political muscle.They asked national agencies, such as the Ministry of Home Affairs and theSupreme Court, to intervene in the case because of the ambiguity of the relatedlaw and regulations. At the same time, they exercised informal patrimonial politicalin their attempts to justify and defend their positions, an effort reflected in therelentless mass rallies, the engagement of highly politicized bureaucrats andgrowing tension among different communal groups. Eventually, the originalelection results were proved to be legitimate and the original winning candidateswere allowed to claim their victory. Nonetheless, the informal and personal politicsthat Depok’s local elites depended on in their bid for power exemplify the persistent

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

88 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

influence of patrimonial elite politics in Indonesia’s heated struggle over local powerand governance.

The 2005 Banyuwangi regent election

Banyuwangi is a district located on the Bali Strait, at the easternmost end of JavaIsland. Its economy is based largely on agriculture and small-scale trade. AlthoughBanyuwangi has a good-sized port, its economy is small and a large number of itspeople live in poverty. A distinctive feature of Banyuwangi is its ethnic diversity.Its population includes the indigenous Osing people, the descendants of Majapahit’snobles and literati who refused to convert to Islam in the sixteenth century andfled to this region. The Osing retain distinctive linguistic and religious practicesand a strong ethnic identity, despite (or perhaps because of) their increasing socialinteraction with other ethnic groups that have migrated to the region over time.28

These include Javanese, Madurese and Balinese. Such an ethnic composition seemsto have figured in Banyuwangi’s politics, if not always prominently and straight-forwardly.

Under the Soeharto regime and since its fall, local politics in Banyuwangi hasdeveloped into a competitive patrimonial system animated by continuous infightingwithin different elite groups and sporadic violence among them. Banyuwangi’selites have managed the district through patrimonial governing strategies andstate–society relations. Local leaders, whether politicians, bureaucrats, Islamicclerics or black-magic practitioners, have always held special positions in theirrelationships with the local people (Sunarlan 2002; 2004). As in many other localsocieties in rural Indonesia, they have efficiently used their patrimonial networksto reduce tension among different ethnic and religious groups. Throughout thetwentieth century and until very recently, however, Banyuwangi people have beenfrequently involved in violent incidents. Although this violence is hard to attributeto any single factor, some observers have suggested that local elites’ patrimonialroles have contributed to such incidents.29 A decade of political reform and socio-cultural change has localized political processes, but politics in Banyuwangi hasremained, by and large, an elite business. As an expert in Banyuwangi politicsargues, the district’s elites seem to have even expanded their dominations with thehelp, ironically, of the democratic reforms and decentralization introduced since1998 (Sunarlan 2004, 150). Taking advantage of the substantially expanded powersand resources given to district governments, those who traditionally controlledthe district’s politics and governance have renewed, modified and, in some cases,extended the patrimonial system during the post-Soeharto era.

Therefore, Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent (bupati) election was a high-stakes contest.The election became controversial nationally after the results were announced. Ashappened in Depok, losing candidates attempted to nullify the election results, butunlike in Depok, the electoral dispute in Banyuwangi soon spilled over into othersensitive areas, such as religion and culture, provoking widespread social upheavals.That Banyuwangi’s religious leaders have become more influential over, andsometimes directly involved in, local political processes made the case even more

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 89

complex. Overall, Banyuwangi’s first direct regent election shows how politicaldecentralization in Indonesia, though it has provided local elites opportunities tovie for local power, has been inadequate to ensure a convincingly democraticpolitical process.

In what follows, I discuss the impact of political parties’ gatekeeping role onthe selection of candidates in Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election, focusing parti-cularly on how the internal fragmentation of major parties shaped the electoral field.I then examine the attempts by the incumbent regent and other entrenched elitesto intervene in the electoral process and ultimately maintain their hold on power.Finally, I analyze the conflicts over the unexpected election results that swept thedistrict’s political and social life for the following four months. I conclude theanalysis by discussing how and with what effect Banyuwangi elites’ patrimonialpolitics contributed to the conflicts over the district’s first direct regent election.

Parties’ internal conflicts and the selection of candidates

Nominating candidates for Banyuwangi’s regentship turned out to be far morecomplicated than anyone had predicted. The selection process culminated with amajor surprise.

The first notable feature of the process for selecting candidates was the counter-intuitive weakness of political parties in direct local elections. As we have observed,Indonesia’s laws regarding local elections favor entrenched parties by stipulatingthat only political parties holding more than 15 percent of the seats in local assem-blies can nominate candidates for elections. But while this arrangement promotessome parties over others, it does not always mean that local party politicians benefitfrom their parties’ gatekeeping role in direct local elections. This is because, inmany instances, it is national party officials who have the first say in the selectionof nominees. In Banyuwangi, the laws that guided the nominating process guaran-teed that three major parties would contest the regent election. As Table 5.4 shows,these were the PKB and the PDI-P and Golkar. Based on the traditional Islamiccommunities, the PKB had held the most seats in the district since 1999.30 Thenationalistic PDI-P was the second biggest with 12 seats, while Golkar held thethird position with eight seats. The PD and the PPP held the remaining nine seats.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

90 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

Table 5.4 Party composition in the Banyuwangi district assembly (2004–9)

Political parties Number of seats Percentage of total

PKB 16 35.5Golkar 8 17.8PDI-P 12 26.7PPP 4 8.9PD 5 11.1

Total 45 100

Given the strength of the PKB and the PDI-P in the district assembly, one mightexpect that these two parties’ candidates would be the most formidable competitorsfor the district’s regentship. However, throughout the electoral process, severeinternal conflicts and fragmentation within these two major parties twisted theelectoral map and weakened both parties’ chances to win the election outright. Overthe course of the election, both the PKB and the PDI-P in Banyuwangi saw tensiongrow not only at the district level (i.e., among prominent local figures) but alsobetween the national and local leaderships.

The outcomes of the process for selecting candidates in the PKB defied expec-tations, as the apparently strongest pair of candidates fell victim to the party’sinternally polarized politics. The PKB’s Banyuwangi chapter was split into twofactions, mirroring the central board’s fragmentation into the Choirul Anam (orUlama) faction and the Iskandar Muhaimin faction. In Banyuwangi, the Ulamafaction was stronger, while the Muhaimin faction controlled the central board. Withsupport from the East Java provincial board, the Ulama faction in Banyuwanginominated Achmad Wahyudi, chairman of the Banyuwangi district assembly, andEko Sukartono, a long-term Golkar politician and deputy chairman of the districtassembly. In the meantime, with support from the central board, the district’sMuhaimin faction endorsed the incumbent Samsul Hadi, who had only garneredsix out of 16 PKB representatives at the district assembly.

In terms of popularity and electability, the Ulama faction’s candidates appearedto be in a better position. Wahyudi was a charismatic figure, with broad personalnetworks among local leaders and Muslim communities, while Eko was a veteranpolitician who had been elected four times to the district assembly as a Golkarrepresentative.31 Many local people viewed the two long-established and well-entrenched local politicians as the most likely to win (pasangan jadi). In contrast,Samsul’s nomination came to a dead end. At the time of nomination, he was underinvestigation by the East Java Provincial Police for having allegedly embezzledRp. 251 million from the district budget (Kompas, January 19, 2005; March 2,2005). Yet despite their popularity among local populations and their goodconnections with other elites, the Wahyudi–Eko pair failed to garner support fromthe other faction at the district level. Neither could they secure their candidacy fromthe party’s fragmented and dysfunctional central board.32 Nevertheless, theBanyuwangi branch of the General Election Commission (KPUD Banyuwangi)accepted the Wahyudi–Eko pair’s candidacy as legitimate, referring to the law onpolitical parties to justify its decision.33

Infighting in the PDI-P was no less chaotic. The PDI-P’s national leaders hadalready displayed a tendency to force their chosen candidates on local party chaptersin other regions. Sure enough, when Banyuwangi’s rank-and-file members unex-pectedly chose a female candidate from outside Banyuwangi, the party’s centralboard rejected the decision and selected their own candidates. Ratna Ani Lestari,the favorite of the PDI-P’s local cadres, was born in Banten, West Java, but grewup in Banyuwangi. When the election took place, she had been living in neighbor-ing Bali. Married to I Gede Winasa, the popular regent of Jembrana district on Bali, Ratna was also politically active in that district. Indeed, at the time of the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 91

Banyuwangi election, Ratna was a member of the PDI-P fraksi in the Jembranadistrict assembly. Remarkably, Ratna won the hearts of the majority of PDI-P cadresin Banyuwangi. But she failed to secure support from the party’s central board,which instead backed Ali Syahroni, former official in the East Java provincialgovernment, together with Yusuf Widyatmoko, chairman of PDI-P’s Banyuwangidistrict board.34 The central board’s decision incensed many of Banyuwangi’s PDI-P cadres, as Ali Syahroni ranked only fourth in the party’s selection convention.While the Banyuwangi chapter’s leadership officially followed the central board’sinstruction, the party’s rank-and-file members continued to rally around Ratna(Sinar Harapan, June 22, 2005).35

Other parties’ selections of candidates went relatively smoothly and uneventfully.As conflicts bedeviled the PKB and PDI-P, Golkar nominated a pair of candidateson its own, but their chances of winning were dim from the beginning. SoesantoSoewandi, Golkar’s candidate for regent, was a former secretary of the districtgovernment, but he had been indicted in a corruption case when the electionoccurred.36 Golkar was not as severely fragmented as the other two major parties,but it was organized in quite a loose and patchy way. Individual cadres took sidesin support of different candidates and pursued their personal interests withoutrestraint from party leaders. The candidates of the PD–PPP coalitions also drewrelatively little attention, not only because major parties’ candidates dominatedthe electoral stage, but also because of their past performance. According toSunarlan of Jember University, who has long observed and analyzed Banyuwangipolitics, the Masduki–Asyari pair was widely regarded as corrupt.37 Therefore, asboth Golkar’s and the PD–PPP coalition’s candidates were blemished by corruptioncharges, they had little chance of winning the election, a situation that improvedthe outlook for PKB’s Wahyudi and Eko in their contest to claim the district’s toptwo positions.38

Then there came a last-minute surprise. As all major parties finalized theirselection of candidates, Ratna managed to collect support from 18 small partiesthat had no representatives seated in the assembly. The coalition, named theCoalition of Non-Parliamentary Parties (Gabungan Partai Politik Non Parlemen),astonishingly managed to amass 15.2 percent of the vote out of the 2004 generalelection results, only 0.2 percent more than the required minimum (Kompas, April6, 2005). After securing her candidacy, Ratna strategically chose Yusuf Noeris asher running mate for the deputy regent position. Coming from a well-regardedkyai (Islamic preacher) family, Yusuf Noeris was perceived as an influential figureamong the Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), the traditional Islamic organization, andpesantren (traditional Islamic boarding school) communities.39

Therefore, as Table 5.5 shows, ultimately five pairs of candidates contested forthe Banyuwangi regentship. Three major parties nominated three pairs of candi-dates, and the PPP–PD coalition nominated another pair of candidates, while 18small parties that held no seats in the assembly managed to build a coalition andadded a pair of candidates to the electoral field.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

92 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

The hazards of patrimonial politics

The electoral process in Banyuwangi was complicated not only by the major parties’internal fragmentation and intervention from the central boards, but also byentrenched elites’ patrimonial manipulations. In particular, the incumbent regent,Samsul Hadi, did not willingly give up his political ambitions. He not onlyvigorously lobbied the PKB’s central board and various local leaders to seek re-election, but also tried to intervene in the electoral process by using his patrimonialrelationships. He also relentlessly mobilized his mass base and tried to wieldleverage over local institutions, as well as lower-ranking bureaucrats.

Under investigation for a corruption charge, Samsul Hadi first attempted to delaythe electoral process. He did so by intimidating the KPUD Banyuwangi. On March28, the PKB’s first chairman and former President Abdurrahman Wahid warnedthat his party would boycott the Banyuwangi regent election if the KPUDBanyuwangi continued to reject Samsul’s candidacy.40 Samsul then threatened theKPUD, claiming that his regency would not approve its request for election funds,even though the funds were already allocated from the district budget (Kompas,March 31, 2005; April 11, 2005; Suara Merdeka, June 6, 2005). In response, theKPUD warned him that it would report him directly to President Yudhoyono(Tempointeraktif, March 30, 2005). Samsul also lobbied assembly members toconsider delaying the election. However, a legal case against Samsul proceeded

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 93

Table 5.5 Candidates and supporting parties in Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election

Candidates Supporting parties (% of the vote gained in the 2004 general elections)

Achmad Wahyudi PKB (34.5%)Eko Sukartono

Masduki Soe’oed PD and PPP (11.6%)Syafi’i Asyari

Soesanto Suwandi Golkar (15.0%)Abdul Kadir

Ratna Ani Lestari 18 small parties (15.2%)*Yusuf Noeris

Ali Syahroni PDI-P (23.7%)Yusuf Widyatmoko

Note: * Freedom Bull National Party (Partai Nasional Banteng Kemerdekaan, PNBK), FreedomParty (Partai Merdeka), National Mandate Party (PAN), Reform Star Party (PBR), PancasilaPatriots Party (Partai Patriot Pancasila), Indonesian Nahdlatul Community Party (Partai PersatuanNahdlatul Ummah Indonesia, PPNUI), Crescent Star Party (PBB), Prosperous Peace Party (PDS),Pioneers’ Party (Partai Pelopor), Prosperous Justice Party (PKS), Concern for the NationalFunctional Party (Partai Karya Peduli Bangsa, PKPB), Indonesian Justice and Unity Party (PKPI),Socialist Democratic Labor Party (Partai Buruh Social Demokrat, PBSD), Marhaenism IndonesianNational Party (PNI Marhaenisme), United Democratic Nationhood Party (Partai PersatuanDemokrasi Kebangsaan, PPDK), Indonesian Democratic Vanguard Party (Partai PenegakDemokrasi Indonesia, PPDI), Indonesian Unity Party (Partai Sarikat Indonesia, PSI) and RegionalUnited Party (Partai Persatuan Daerah, PPD).

as these events were unfolding, and the East Java Provincial Police confiscated hisproperty and house (Kompas, April 14, 2005). The next day, several placardsappeared on Banyuwangi’s main streets with messages of support for Samsul(Kompas, April 14, 2005). Taking Samsul’s side, the Banyuwangi branch of theElection Supervisory Committee (Panwas Banyuwangi) refused to pull them down,arguing that it did not have enough manpower to do so (Kompas, April 16, 2005).41

Panwas Banyuwangi also called for the election to be delayed.In addition, Samsul mobilized his grassroots supporters. After the KPUD

finalized the list of candidates on April 22, hundreds of Samsul’s supporters stageda demonstration in front of the KPUD office (Kompas, April 27, 2005). On April27, Samsul’s supporters held a press conference under the banner of the StruggleCommittee for Democracy (Komite Perjuangan untuk Demokrasi) and asked thatthe election be delayed. Village heads organized under various organizations,including the Banyuwangi District Forum of Village Heads (Forum Kepala DesaKabupaten Banyuwangi, Fokus), also protested against the KPUD’s decision(Kompas, June 2, 2005). Various groups of Samsul Hadi’s supporters staged sit-in protests in the KPUD’s office, demanding the withdrawal of its decision (Kompas,May 11, 2005; May 27, 2005). The KPUD had to move to a temporary office inthe local assembly building, and a week passed before the police eventually tookaction to drive the demonstrators out of the KPUD office (Kompas, May 28, 2005;June 4, 2005; Radar Banyuwangi, June 4, 2005). As the campaign went on, SamsulHadi’s supporters attempted to disrupt the electoral process. In mid-May, forexample, an organization called the City Society Forum (Forum Masyarakat Kota,Maskot) sent out a letter to several sub-district heads asking them to delay settingup village-level committees to organize and oversee polling stations (Kompas, May13, 2005). In a separate move, five organizations filed a class-action suit againstthe KPUD in the Banyuwangi State Court and asked for the court to suspend allpreparation and campaigning for the election.42

Despite pressure from Samsul and his administration, the KPUD Banyuwangiremained resolute in sticking to its original timetable (Kompas, April 27, 2005).However, in the middle of the electoral process, four secretaries assigned by thedistrict government to the KPUD suddenly resigned from their positions (Kompas,May 3, 2005). This tactic was apparently intended to disrupt the electoral process,because all the KPUD’s administrative decisions required the signatures of theseofficials. Those who were trying to set up polling stations in villages also facedproblems. Some villages were reportedly unprepared for voting because civilservants had not (intentionally or unintentionally) obtained the necessary permitfrom the district government that would license them to monitor the voting(Kompas, May 28, 2005; June 2, 2005; June 11, 2005; Radar Banyuwangi, June11, 2005). In response to this hurdle, the KPUD had to recruit volunteers to helpmonitor polling stations (Radar Banyuwangi, June 9, 2005; Kompas, June 9, 2005).

Notwithstanding Samsul’s powerful networks and influence, the people ofBanyuwangi did not unanimously support his political ambition. According toSunarlan’s observation, Banyuwangi’s residents had grown disappointed withSamsul’s governing style, which relied heavily on patronage networks and a

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

94 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

patrimonial influence (Sunarlan 2004). As his supporters staged rallies to interruptthe electoral process, opposition against Samsul’s political maneuvering graduallygathered force. Prominent local kyai expressed their support for the KPUD.Hundreds of local people staged a demonstration under the banner of the DemocracySociety Forum (Forum Masyarakat Demokrasi), asking for the KPUD to stick toits original election-day schedule (Kompas, May 31, 2005). Local politicians wereapparently distressed by Samsul’s personalistic politics and style of governance.43

Ultimately, despite his extensive personal networks, Samsul failed to garner supportfrom influential local elites, particularly religious leaders and assembly members(Kompas, June 2, 2005).

Samsul failed to secure his own candidacy, but his patrimonial manipulation andintimidation disrupted the smooth implementation of the election. Threatened byincessant mass rallies, uncertainty about the KPUD’s capacity and growing socialinstability, assembly members and government officials even contemplateddelaying the election. However, the KPUD Banyuwangi and some other localleaders were under enormous pressure to stage the election successfully, whichmeant that they needed to implement the rest of the electoral process as scheduled.44

Under these circumstances, a week before the voting, the Department of HomeAffairs made clear that it rejected the proposal to delay the polling.

The election results: neither anticipated nor surprising

On June 20, voting for Banyuwangi’s first direct regent election proceeded asscheduled. Slightly over two-thirds of 1.2 million registered voters (67.7 percent)cast votes that day. The turnout was low compared to the percentage of voterswho had participated in the previous year’s national elections—78.5 percent at theApril general election and 79.5 percent in the first round of the presidential election.One of the factors dampening participation was that many local people, includingthree candidates from outside Banyuwangi, had failed to register at the KPUD.45

The result of Banyuwangi’s first direct regent election was a big surprise to manypeople, especially the elites. As Table 5.6 shows, Ratna Ani Lestari and YusufNoeris unexpectedly won the election with over a third of the vote (38 percent),taking 21 of 24 sub-districts. The favorite Wahyudi–Eko pair received only 15percent of the vote, coming in behind the Soesanto–Kadir pair, which gained 19percent. On July 1, the KPUD Banyuwangi announced Ratna Ani Lestari and YusufNoeris as the winners.

Although it had not been anticipated, Ratna’s victory was not that surprising tosome Banyuwangi voters. While local party leaders were busy juggling with internalconflicts, a series of interviews conducted by the national daily Kompas revealedthat many citizens in Banyuwangi regarded “free from corruption” (bebas darikorupsi) as the most important criterion of the election. The interviews also unveileda high level of pessimism among local people about their first direct regent election.Those interviewed related that almost all the candidates had been involved incorruption and that none could change the situation and reform the local governmentto make it more honest and responsive (Kompas, April 18, 2005). Given the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 95

evidence, one can infer that Banyuwangi voters decided to pursue practical benefits,such as the “free education” and “free health services” that the Ratna campaignpromised (Kompas, June 27, 2005; July 8, 2005). They had heard a lot about herhusband’s administration in Jembrana, which successfully implemented freeeducation and health-service programs. In fact, Jembrana’s success stories hadalready drawn wide attention from both domestic and international observers(Kompas, November 6, 2004; Gaduh and Kuznezov 2005). While other candidatesrelied on religious rhetoric and large-scale outdoor rallies, the Ratna–Yusuf paircampaigned by visiting residents door-to-door, promising to work for a cleangovernment and vowing to fight corruption. The media’s positive coverage of theprograms advocated by Ratna and her partner that targeted poor families in needof better access to education and medicine further boosted her campaign.46

Additionally, Ratna took advantage of the dual leadership within the PKB and,particularly, of the personal rivalry between district assembly chairman AchmadWahyudi and incumbent regent Samsul Hadi.47 As mentioned earlier, Banyuwangi’stwo most powerful figures had to deal with internal strife in their party, as well ascharges or rumors about their involvement in corruption. Banyuwangi’s voters werealso disappointed with the PKB’s leaders, both national and local, who tended toimpose their decisions on the local branches and value their own political andeconomic interests above the constituents’ aspirations (Sunarlan 2004). Embracinglocal people’s disenchantment, Ratna developed a strong mass base with promisesabout free education and health services. Unable to rely on strong party machines,Ratna instead contacted voters directly and, in doing so, her partner Yusuf Noeris’ssupport among the NU and pesantren communities proved to be helpful.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

96 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

Table 5.6 Results of Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election

Candidates Received votes (%) Received votes in the 2004 general election (%)

Achmad Wahyudi and 120,865 (15.3%) 306,207 (34.5%)Eko Sukartono

Masduki Suud and 114,677 (14.5%) 103,294 (11.6%)Syafi’I Asyari

Soesanto Suwandi and 150,829 (19.0%) 132,828 (15.0%)Abdul Kadir

Ratna Ani Lestari and 311,653 (39.3%) 134,755 (15.2%)Yusuf Noeris

Ali Syahroni and 94,454 (11.9%) 210,305 (23.7%)Yusuf Widyatmoko

Total 792,478 (100%) 887,389 (100%)

Source: Banyuwangi’s branch of the General Election Commission (KPUD Banyuwangi).

“Denying” the election results

While it did not shock the masses, the election outcome was a big surprise to manylocal elites. Both Banyuwangi’s politicians and religious leaders saw the newlyelected regent as a political threat and cultural challenge to their patrimonialdomination, and they shared a sense of crisis, as they feared loss of their controlover power and resources.48 Accustomed to an overwhelmingly male-dominatedpolitical leadership, they also showed some degree of reluctance to pay respect to a female bupati. Banyuwangi elites’ unhappiness about the election results was transmitted into two sensitive issues: religion and money. By translating theelectoral dispute into issues concerning faith and morality, Banyuwangi’s dominantelites justified their collective aversion to the newly elected regent and inflamedtheir own supporters’ passions. Below I briefly look at each issue in turn, and thenexamine the elites’ attempt to politicize the district assembly to maintain theirpower.

First, Ratna’s unforeseen electoral victory put her under scrutiny by Banyuwangi’sMuslim communities. Her religious background as a Muslim married to a Hinduquickly dominated the post-election discourse. It was actually one of the major issuesaddressed during the campaigns, but it became a divisive issue only after the pollingwas over.49 Islamic leaders suspected that she could not maintain her Muslim identitywhile being married to a Hindu and even argued that her government would threatenthe safety of Banyuwangi’s Muslim communities. However, what they seemed tobe more concerned about was Ratna’s personality. Some leaders commented onher style or image as “arrogant,” “unfriendly” and “vulgar.” They also criticizedRatna for showing a tendency to be “suspicious of local bureaucrats as dishonestand corrupt.” Interestingly, ordinary Banyuwangi people portrayed Ratna in verydifferent ways. Local people and journalists usually described her as “accessible,”“friendly” and “caring.”50 Drawing on conversations with various sources, one couldconclude that it was Ratna’s political, rather than religious, platform that made manyBanyuwangi elites uncomfortable with her victory. In an interview with me, thewell-respected kyai K.H. Syamsul Mu’arif implied that Banyuwangi’s local eliteswere frustrated by her unwillingness to compromise with the district’s entrenchedelites.51

Though most agreed that Ratna’s religious situation was politically scandalous,the district’s Islamic leaders were far from being united in making this case. Afew Islamic leaders did not wish to insult her partner, Yusuf Noeris, whosegrandfather and father were widely respected for their contributions to NU. Also,although religious leaders had often exerted political leverage over the politicalprocess in Banyuwangi, some segments of Banyuwangi society had grownincreasingly less tolerant of the kyai’s involvement in politics. In a one-day seminarheld during the election, for example, some local youth leaders and NU followersopenly criticized the kyai for becoming too deeply involved in local politics andpower struggles.52

Choosing a different approach to challenge the victor’s popular mandate,Banyuwangi’s political elites leveled allegations that Ratna had been involved in

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 97

money politics. Those allegations had already circulated during the campaignsbut gained serious attention only after the election results were announced.53

Members of the Banyuwangi district assembly, including assembly chairmanAchmad Wahyudi, attributed Ratna’s electoral victory to her exploitation of moneypolitics.54 Both the Masduki–Asyari and Soesanto–Kadir pairs also accused theRatna–Yusuf pair of buying votes (Bali Post, June 29, 2005). However, given thatother candidates staged much bigger rallies and that most accusations against theRatna camp emerged after the election results were known, it became clear thatsuch allegations were meant to undermine the legitimacy of her mandate and justifya call for a new round of voting. As evidence from other elections shows, thesignificance of money politics in Indonesia’s direct local elections has, indeed,not decreased (see, for example, Hidayat 2009). On the contrary, it is now anestablished practice that candidates have to make financial contributions to theparties from which they seek nominations (Buehler and Tan 2007). All thesuccessful nominees, then, have to finance their campaigns without much financialsupport from party machines. The nominees usually distribute food, T-shirts,cigarette money (uang rokok), transportation money (uang transportasi) or gifts(often through lucky draws, or hadiah undian) to rally attendants. Candidates alsooften promise village leaders that they will make contributions (sumbangan) totheir communal projects if they are elected.55

Although their discourse focused on religion and money politics, Banyuwangielites seemed to be particularly concerned about the impact of Ratna’s election onthe district’s political dynamics. The prospect that her regentship would change theusual ways of getting things done in Banyuwangi—including relations amongvarious political institutions, and between the government and diverse political,economic and social interests—could be particularly troublesome. It is also apparentthat they were embarrassed by the fact that Banyuwangi’s people chose Ratnadespite the established linkages and networks that should have joined the elites tothe masses and secured the people’s allegiance. As the director of local daily RadarBanyuwangi, Samsudin Adlawi, pointed out, Banyuwangi’s entrenched elites werealarmed by the fact that Ratna successfully penetrated into their bases of grassrootssupport.56 Therefore, even before taking office, Banyuwangi’s first directly electedregent faced strong resentment from various groups of local elites.

Ratna’s first challenge came from within the party coalition that nominated her:13 of the 18 parties filed complaints regarding her and Yusuf’s candidacy at thedistrict court.57 But the Banyuwangi National Court rejected the case because ofinsufficient evidence (Radar Banyuwangi, August 13, 2005). Then, a biggerchallenge came from the Banyuwangi district assembly, which decided to rejectthe election results. In principle, local assemblies have no authority to reject electionresults. They can only submit recommendations regarding the inauguration ofelected government heads to the Ministry of Home Affairs.58 However, Banyuwangiassembly members argued that the Ratna–Yusuf pair’s nomination was legallyflawed because some of the supporting parties actually had not endorsed the victors’candidacy. For the next four months, both political and religious leaders, sharinga sense of crisis, jointly fought to block Ratna from taking office. Threatened by

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

98 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

an outsider’s seizure of power, Banyuwangi’s entrenched elites collectively rejectedthe legitimacy of the new government.

However, unity among Banyuwangi political elites did not last long. The PDI-P’s central board changed its position to recognize Ratna as its cadre and instructedits Banyuwangi chapter to support her inauguration.59 Accordingly, the PDI-Prepresentatives at the district assembly changed their position, splitting theassembly. Additionally, an informal cross-party alliance added some more twiststo the political dynamics at the assembly. Consisting of around 15 young partypoliticians, the Young Caucus (kaukus muda) voiced views different from theirparties’ official lines. Pebdi Arisdiawan, a Golkar representative who had acted asthe group’s spokesperson, explained to me that, as a loose and non-binding group,the Young Caucus tried to meditate among different views in the midst of grow-ing political havoc.60 Samsudin Adlawi, director of Radar Banyuwang, attributedthe emergence of such a group to the young politicians’ mutual dissatisfactionwith the entrenched leaders.61 With the pressure building within the assembly, theassembly’s leaders finally held a series of meetings with party leaders to discussthe newly elected regent’s inauguration.

Unyielding patrimonial domination

Four months after the voting, the Banyuwangi district assembly finally acceptedthe election results and let the winners take office. However, this was not the endof the mayhem that the district’s first direct regent election introduced into localsociety. In fact, Banyuwangi’s politics and governance continued to be fracturedby a bitter power struggle between the new regent and entrenched elites who wereunwilling to yield their patrimonial dominance.

On October 20, along with deputy regent Yusuf Noeris, Ratna was sworn in atthe district hall, not at the conventional assembly building. The ceremony wasmarkedly Islamic, assuaging many people’s doubts about the regent’s religiouscommitment. However, the inauguration did not put an end to the Banyuwangielites’ manipulations. Right after the inauguration ceremony, for instance, AchmadWahyudi, the losing candidate who was now back to being district assemblychairman, warned that “the tension between the executive and the legislature may[continue to] happen and [the district’s political future] depends on the new regent’sand deputy regent’s ability to create good communication [with other local leaders]”(Kompas, October 21, 2005).62 Unfortunately, the district government had beenhighly politicized under Samsul Hadi’s leadership, and Ratna’s attempt to run hergovernment on the basis of performance, rather than patrimonial networks, provedto be unworkable. Reluctant to compromise with the entrenched elites, Ratna alsofailed to integrate different groups of political and religious interests into heradministration.63

The continuing struggle culminated in May 2006, almost a year after the election.On May 4, thousands of Banyuwangi people staged a demonstration in front ofthe regent’s office and asked her to resign within 24 hours (Kompas, May 5, 2006).Joining the mass rally, Islamic leaders led by K.H. Hisyam Syafa’at argued that

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 99

Banyuwangi’s social conditions had not improved since Ratna took power (Surya,May 5, 2006). As a response to this protest, district assembly members held a specialsession and decided to impeach Ratna (the meeting did not have a quorum, whichrequires that two-thirds of the members be present). Ratna fought back by pointingout that the local assembly had no authority to impeach her, but district assemblymembers intensely lobbied East Java’s governor and the national assembly (Antara,May 7, 2006; Kompas, May 10, 2006).64 Ultimately, Banyuwangi’s elites failedagain to garner enough support to regain their control over local governance, soRatna survived another crisis. However, Banyuwangi’s politics have continued tostagger, crippled by the ongoing tension between a directly elected regent’s fightto establish her legitimacy and entrenched elites’ refusal to give up their privileges.65

Democracy and patrimonial politics

Through the analysis of Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s local elections, I have shownthat intensified power struggles do not, in and of themselves, improve the qualityof local politics and governance in Indonesia. They rather reveal the fragility offormal democratic institutions in the face of entrenched elites’ patrimonial domi-nation. Formal institutional change should not be equated with substantive changein local politicians’ behavior and practices. As Henk Schulte Nordholt and Gerryvan Klinken (2007, 24) have observed, institutional changes at local levels tend,rather, to make certain hidden aspects of the state more explicit as they reveal theextent to which local actors use the state for their own interests. This is particularlytrue when decentralization creates greater space for local elites to build and developinformal networks with local state actors. When this happens, local institutions andprocesses turn out to be so fragile that, in some cases, such as those of Depok andBanyuwangi, local elites can manipulate them to further their private interests.Under a democratic and decentralized political system, Indonesia’s local elites havemanaged to extend their informal networks into formal state institutions andgovernance. Furthermore, the country’s recent experiment with direct localelections has exposed the stubborn, though changing, continuities that characterizeold patterns of politics. Informal networks are still a key factor in local powerstruggles, particularly in societies where personalized state–society relationsdominate politics and governance.

In the end, entrenched elites in Depok and Banyuwangi failed to secure theirpolitical monopoly over local power and governance. The ultimate outcomes ofthe cases demonstrate both the limits of entrenched elites’ authority and theresilience of Indonesia’s democratic institutions. In most other elections, however,politically powerful elites managed to win the elections, secure their control overlocal governance and maintain their patrimonial domination without difficulty.Distinctively, the elections in Depok and Banyuwangi reveal the potential threatof decentralized power struggles. When new power-seekers’ political aspirationsclash with the entrenched elites’ patrimonial operation of political institutions,democratic rules of the game seem incapable of changing old patterns of localpolitics, in which patrimonial relationships and practices still dominate. Although

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

100 Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections

new leaders have shown some, though limited, change in their style of politics andpolicies, they also rely on patrimonial networks in operating local institutions, andparticularly in facing the continuous challenge from the elites who have traditionallyruled local politics.

Direct local elections have certainly changed the political dynamics in Indonesia’sregions. However, the direct local elections carried out in Depok and Banyuwangihave also revealed the unexpected and unintended dimension of Indonesia’schanging local political system. Entrenched bureaucrats and affluent businesspeoplehave dominated local power struggles. Meanwhile, the intensified competition overlocal power and governance has not yet improved the quality of local democracyand state–society relations more broadly. Direct local elections have not reached a point where power is truly contested. What made the cases of Depok andBanyuwangi distinct from many other cases was that conflicts among contestantscould not be settled by political compromise, and elite groups relied on massmobilization and questionable stalling tactics. The two cases also demonstrate howthe coincidence of formal democratic institutions, patrimonial domination andemotional mass mobilization can easily destabilize local politics. Democraticinstitutions and procedures in local Indonesia are still vulnerable to the patrimonialmanipulation of local elites, entrenched or not.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005 elections 101

ConclusionPolitical change and pathways to power

In nearly 15 years since the overthrow of the Soeharto regime, political life inIndonesia has become more decentralized and democratic. This book has soughtto contribute to our understanding of the nature of these changes and to illustratethe value of a fine-grained analysis of local political processes. Substantively I havesought to understand the complex relation between the formal institutional reformof local politics and political behavior and practices on the ground.

There has been a lively debate as to whether Indonesia’s direct local electionshave contributed to local democratization, as advocates of such elections suggestedthey would, or whether the elections have only consolidated or otherwise trans-formed the oligarchy of political parties, as parties dominate the selection ofcandidates for local government heads. Based on original research in five localities,this book has shown a more complex and interesting picture. Although it is truethat direct local elections have, by modestly reducing the gatekeeping power ofparties, made Indonesia’s political system more democratic and decentralized informal terms, the advent of direct elections has had no universal effect on theaccessibility or transparency of local governance. Rather, as I have sought toillustrate, in Indonesian localities the character and outcomes of political processesare determined by how local actors mediate and respond to formal institutionalchanges.

Direct local elections have indeed further localized power and electoraldemocracy in Indonesia’s regions. And as the case studies in this book illustrate,the intensification of competition for local power has also revitalized and institu-tionalized undemocratic practices in local politics. Contrary to decentralizationadvocates’ expectation, however, direct local elections have allowed entrenchedlocal elites—including many who gained elite status under Soeharto—to enhancetheir power. Political parties monopolized the screening of candidates in thoseelections but ironically failed to make their presence felt in many elections. A small,though growing, number of new power-seekers have taken part in localized powercontests but their entry has made little, if not insignificant, impact on how politicswork. Fierce local power struggles have rather exposed the vulnerability of localpolitical institutions to patrimonial manipulation by powerful elites. Overall, inthe case of post-Soeharto Indonesia, the widely held assumption that politicaldecentralization enhances the quality of local democracy remains problematic. The

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

empirical analyses presented in this book sought to shed light on the complex andoften contradictory ways in which individuals in local politics interpret, navigateand utilize formal and informal rules and institutions in their pursuit of power.The results—which are very often unintended and contradictory—defy simpledemocratic norms.

Overall, this book has illustrated a picture of Indonesia’s politics in which elite-dominated state–society relations retain an important role. As illustrated in eachcase study, the weakening of parties, the resilience of entrenched local elites andthe reassertion of patrimonialism are interrelated and mutually affecting politicaland social developments. In what follows, I contextualize these interrelateddevelopments in light of Indonesia’s ongoing process of political transformationat both the national and local level.

Prospects for multi-party democracy

As cases in the book and elsewhere have shown, an ironic consequence of holdingdirect local elections is that Indonesia’s political parties have become paralyzed inlocal electoral process. This outcome is paradoxical and perhaps even surprisinggiven that political parties still practically dominate the selection of candidates inthese elections. It is also a fairly significant reversal of fortune.

In the immediate wake of Soeharto’s fall, Indonesia’s political parties success-fully monopolized power and decision-making process at the national level.However, they have tended to behave as “brokers” rather than “players” in directlocal elections, particularly after the switch to direct popular vote, reflecting theirdetachment from their constituencies from the very beginning of political reforms.Enhancing their centralized style of organizational management, most Indonesianparties have become “oligarchic,” while they have institutionalized “moneypolitics” as a determinant political norm in local politics. In such a way, oligarchicpolitical parties have allowed only affluent political hopefuls to contest for localpower and governance, while having failed to embed themselves in local politicalprocesses.

The weakening of Indonesian political parties in local politics can be attributedto the centralizing pretensions of most major parties and locals’ aversion to them.On the one hand, central boards play a powerful role in deciding who is allowedto compete in elections for local government heads. Since the Constitutional Court’sruling in 2007, individual candidates can run for local office without any partysupport. In most elections, however, party tickets still tend to be dominant. On theother hand, political parties have played an insignificant role in the conduct ofcampaigns, partly because they have no consistent national platforms. It is alsopartly because national party leaderships have failed to nominate qualified andpopular cadres and instead chose to support powerful and well-resourced localelites, who were deemed capable of self-financing their campaigns.

In this respect, it is apparent that direct local elections have not reduced thesignificance of money politics in pathways to local power but instead have alteredits character. In direct elections of local government heads, it is now political parties,

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Conclusion 103

not individual party representatives in local assemblies, who receive money frompotential candidates. Therefore, we observe an unexpected development in contem-porary Indonesia’s local politics as a result of the combination of the centralizedmanagement of political parties with the introduction of direct local executiveelections. Political parties, especially national leaders and chairmen of provincialboards rather than local cadres, recruit well-resourced local elites as candidates oflocal government heads. Correspondingly, parties’ central boards in Jakarta haveexacerbated tensions between national party leaderships and local cadres (e.g., thePAN and the PDI-P in the Batam case and the PDI-P in the Banyuwangi case).Deprived of autonomy to make their own decisions and, perhaps more importantly,access to money, local chapters of parties were largely absent in the process ofdirect local elections. Unsurprisingly, while the campaigns are more focused onpersonalities, ideology and substantive policy debates played a negligible role inmany elections.

The paralysis of Indonesian political parties has been further cemented by theConstitutional Court’s 2007 decision to allow individual candidates to run for localgovernment heads. In most local elections, political parties remain as the maingatekeepers (Marijan 2007, 7). Nevertheless, Indonesian political parties’ weaknessin local politics may continue in the foreseeable future given that the current systemgives local power-holders (or power-seekers) no reason to develop close rela-tionships with parties (see also Buehler and Tan 2007, 65–6). Power struggles centeron entrenched and influential elites and their networks, not between parties andparty machines. Most recently, the 2009 legislative elections adopted the majorityvote system and thus, individual candidates’ personality, along with the supportingparties’ popularity, played a much more important role than in the previous elec-tions. There is no doubt that Indonesia’s multi-party politics make up an essentialpart of the country’s democratic political system. At local levels, however, it ispowerful and resourceful local elites who dominate decentralized power struggle,in which, rather than promising their commitments to certain programs or policies,they mobilize their personal networks and money in seeking and maintaining powerand office.

Old vs. new local elites

Indonesia’s political transformation has dramatically increased the significance oflocal elites in the country’s politics and governance. It is their political views andpractices that are shaping the country’s democratic trajectory on a daily basis. Overthe last decade, Indonesia’s local societies have observed their local elite circlesbroaden and diversify. The opening of political space and the substantiallyexpanded, if not unlimited, contest for power have indeed changed the configurationof social and political interests and major policy issues in Indonesia’s local societies.However, Indonesia’s local elites are a complex and diverse group. Some, perhapseven most, do indeed fit the picture of New Order-nurtured predatory elites who“were best positioned to take advantages of democratization and decentralization”(Hadiz 2007, 875 and 878; see also Schulte Nordholt 2004, 47). Whether this type

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

104 Conclusion

of elite represents a majority of Indonesia’s local elite or its most important segmentis an interesting empirical question that cannot be addressed here. While the powerof this “old elite” should not be discounted, it is equally clear that recent yearshave witnessed new faces of diverse political and socio-economic backgrounds riseto crucial positions in local governance and politics. Whether the entry of thosenew power-seekers has brought about any meaningful changes to the usual waysof exercising local power and governance is yet another question.

Indonesia’s recent democratic reforms and decentralization have certainlybrought decision-making closer to local people, but the act of devolving powerand resources has proved to be “only a necessary and not sufficient condition foreffective and transparent local governments” (Antlöv 2002, 13; see also Brinkerhoffand Goldsmith 2002, 32). In practice, Indonesia’s decentralization has allowedentrenched local elites to enhance their power bases and access to resources and,most importantly, provided them with new opportunities to contest for decentralizedpower and governance. Well-established local elites promptly adapted themselvesto new political and social circumstances in order to maintain their privileges andaccess to resources.1 Local officials and businesspeople quickly joined the localchapters of major parties and ran for seats in local assemblies or competed tobecome local government heads.

Political parties’ monopoly over the nomination of candidates in direct localelections certainly helped affluent and well-connected local elites dominate theelectoral field. Dominant parties still act as gatekeepers, and entrenched local eliteswho pay those gatekeepers contest elections. Under such conditions, direct localelections seem to have benefited only selected elites, challenging the dominantassumption that the country’s recent political reforms would herald the arrival oflocal democracy. Observing well-resourced local elites run for governors, regentsand mayors across the country, many observers speculated about the emergenceof “big kings” in the regions. In many cases, the emergence of “big kings” wasusually accompanied by fierce competition between different political and economicinterests, in which the existent political, economic and social settings of the localityplayed an important role.2

For instance, Ismeth Abdullah, the governor of the Riau Archipelago elected in2005, was one of the wealthiest and best-connected political figures in thearchipelago. Originally from Cirebon of West Java, he had served as chairman ofthe BIDA from 1998 to 2005 and also as a former acting governor of the archipelagoin 2004 and 2005. Aida Ismeth, his wife, is the daughter of a former governor ofRiau Province in the late 1950s and was elected in 2004 to represent the archipelagoat the national-level Regional Representative Assembly (DPD). Deputy governorMuhammad Sani was also a long-established bureaucrat and served as regent ofthe Karimun district from 2001 to 2005. In the 2005 election, Ismeth Abdullahand Muhammad Sani won the election convincingly with 60 percent of the vote.In 2009, Ismeth Abdullah was prosecuted in a corruption case that dated back tohis time as the BIDA chairman and sentenced to two years in jail in August 2010(Indonesia Today, August 23, 2010). In the May 2010 gubernatorial election, hiswife, Aida Ismeth, ran for the gubernatorial position but failed to win the election.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Conclusion 105

Another example can be taken from Batam’s 2006 mayoral election. The powerstruggle between diverse local elites in the election turned out to be quite tense,mostly due to the tension that had brewed between a national-level developmentagency (BIDA) and a decentralized local authority (the Batam municipal govern-ment) since the implementation of regional autonomy in 2001. The election ofAhmad Dahlan, a familiar face to BIDA officials with having worked there foralmost 20 years, as new Batam mayor indicated that the political landscape of Batamwas changing in a way that rescued Batam from its “split personality.” As a self-identified “local boy” born in Batam, Ahmad Dahlan appeared to have takenadvantage of his BIDA affiliations in his bid for mayorship and boasted of his well-rounded relationships with BIDA. As such, Batam’s 2006 mayoral election changedthe island’s political setting and it is not surprising to learn that he secured hissecond-term in the January 2011 election.

Though slowly, direct local elections have also provided competing local interestswith opportunities to contest with each other over the decentralized politicalinstitutions and governance, attracting a growing number of new power-seekers.In general, political reforms following the regime change in 1998 opened newpolitical opportunities—and new types of pathways to power—to Indonesia’s new“political entrepreneurs.” Yet it was not until the implementation of direct localelections that a vast group of local businesspeople, bureaucrats and religious orother kinds of societal leaders began taking part in local power struggle. Thesenew political hopefuls’ profiles, including their ethnic and religious backgrounds,life stories, personalities, styles and networks seem to have made the country’slocal political dynamics more complicated and less predictable.

Entering local political institutions has indeed gained popularity among the localmiddle classes. As Gerry van Klinken (2009, 150) points out, compared to internalbureaucratic lobbying under the New Order, electoral democracy has offered theintermediate classes greater opportunities for upward mobility. Running for a localassembly seat is now widely regarded as a good way of moving upward, by whichboth status and material rewards can be achieved at once. Yet success stories,including victories of new challengers, point out that traditional factors, such as pat-ronage networks, social prestige and wealth still matter more than ideas and programsin the selection of local leadership. As the cases of Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005elections showed, when new power-seekers’ political aspirations clash with theentrenched elites’ patrimonial manipulation, democratic institutions are short ofstopping old patterns of politics from reasserting themselves as the main mode ofpolitical operation. Despite the entry of new faces in the local leadership, patrimonialrelationships and practices still dominate in many regions.

For example, Ratna Ani Lestari, Banyuwangi’s regent elected in 2005, continuedto struggle to convince low-ranking bureaucrats to implement her policies whileoften facing emotionally charged and religiously mobilized popular proteststhroughout her term. She eventually failed to run again for the July 2010 election.Officially, her candidacy was not verified by the local General Election Commission(KPUD Banyuwangi) but it can be suspected that she ultimately failed to estab-lish her leadership among the entrenched patrimonial networks. The story of

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

106 Conclusion

Nurmahmudi Ismail, Depok’s mayor elected in 2005, has been somewhat differentin that he successfully secured his second term in the October 2010 election.Nonetheless, the fact that almost half of the city’s registered voters did not casttheir votes in the 2010 election tells us of something other than a vibrant localdemocracy. In addition, his deputy mayor Yuyun Wirasaputra ran separately forthe mayoral position and accused his former partner of winning the election bymoney politics practices, indicating that nothing much has changed in Depok’spolitics (Indonesia Today, October 24, 2010).

Even from the second round of direct local elections, which began in May 2010,there have been observations that conflicts among contestants still tend to lead toextensive mass mobilization. Given that democratic institutions and procedures inlocal Indonesia are still vulnerable to the patrimonial manipulation of local elites,entrenched or not, the quality and nature of Indonesia’s local democracy appear todepend on how persistent patrimonial politics intersect with the expanded politicalopportunities for new kinds of leaders.

Taming patrimonial politics

Despite fundamental changes in the rules of the game, money and connectionsstill play a dominant role in Indonesia’s local power struggle, as they do in mostactually existing democracies. The opening of local political struggle to peoplefrom various backgrounds and with different interests, while significant in its ownright, has not been sufficient to counter patrimonialism in local politics andgovernance. As a result, today Indonesia’s local political system displays somedegree of hybridity, in which patrimonial elite politics pervade democratic politicalinstitutions and processes. More and more Indonesian people, particularly of themiddle classes, have run for local assembly seats or executive positions as a wayof seeking public recognition, personal popularity or business profit. At the sametime, mobilizing along the ethnic or religious lines or money politics, or anycombination of the three, has always been the most effective way of seeking votersupport.

As discussed above, this reassertion of patrimonial politics in Indonesia’s localpolities is one of the combined consequences of the weakening of parties at thelocal level and the enduring influence of New Order-era elites on local governance.Patrimonial politics have dominated the country’s politics for centuries but it isinteresting that Indonesia’s new democracy actually encouraged local elites,entrenched or not, to make use of their traditional patrimonial or personalisticpolitics. Although it is not new that local politicians use their positions to servetheir personal interests—and ultimately to secure their control over power andresources—it is still notable that political decentralization has changed so little interms of the mode of politics. While local elites have gained greater political,economic and social powers, they appear to have few incentives to act for the publicgood.

So it is totally unsurprising that some commentators and politicians havesuggested a switch back to the indirect electoral system. One of the reasons they

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Conclusion 107

argue for is that indirect system will at least reduce the costs of democracy. To besure, both indirect and direct electoral systems have failed to meet the expectationsof advocates in some respects. But moving back to the indirect electoral systemdoes not appear to be a right answer to the high cost of democracy. A fundamentalproblem seems to lie in the fact that there is no effective popular control over thepolitical system. From such a viewpoint, one of this book’s arguments is particularlynoteworthy. The expanded and intensified local power struggle has failed to makethe local power struggle more accessible and transparent. Contrary to decentral-ization advocates’ expectation, local elections have provided entrenched local eliteswith new opportunities to contest for decentralized power and governance, whilelocal political institutions have turned out to be vulnerable to local elites’ moneyand patrimonial manipulation.

Nonetheless, there is no doubt that direct local elections represent an importantturning point in Indonesia’s political history. At the same time, their implicationsfor the country’s democratic reform and political change remain unclear. As shownthroughout this book, the practical effects of direct local elections depend not onformal institutional reforms, but on how local actors interpret and respond to theseformal reforms on the ground. Overall, case studies of this book suggest thesubstantive changes in political practices and behavior require much more timethan formal or procedural changes.

The analysis of indirect and direct local elections in this book has sought tocontribute to our understanding of Indonesia’s democracy and its political dynamicson the ground. Grasping the long-term impact of democratic and administrativereforms will require additional research not only on elections but also on whatincumbents do with their power. Evidence suggests direct local elections havereshaped local governance and the performance of local government functions,such as the drafting of local budgets, the legislation of regional regulations and thedirection and governance of the regions’ development policies. To understandwhether and how these changes have affected in a meaningful way the quality ofdemocracy will require examination of whether and how elections have affectedpatrimonial practices of local officials, the character of local executive–legislativerelationships and relations between the central and local governments, as well asbetween local politicians and the grassroots. That, however, is the task of anotherbook.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

108 Conclusion

Notes

Introduction

1 Among the efforts to address this gap is the state of democracy methodology, whichhas been developed by the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance(International IDEA) and adopted by the Nepal and the Dutch governments in assessingtheir own democracy (see speech by Ingrid Wetterqvist, Head of Planning and ExternalRelations of International IDEA, at the International Follow-up Conference on New andRestored Democracies hosted by the government of Mongolia with the support of UNDP, Ulan Bator, Mongolia, June 1–2, 2006: downloaded from http://www.idea.int/democracy/upload/Ulan_Baator_IWspeech010606.pdf on March 12, 2009).

2 The weakness of the substantive aspects of democratization may be unnoticed in formallydemocratic settings, but when informal political processes emerge as a defining featureof the post-authoritarian polity, it will become clear that “formal democracy may remainformal” (Huber, Rueschemeyer and Stephens 1997, 324). The idea of “social democracy”suggested by Evelyne Huber, Dietrich Rueschemeyer and John Stephens is moreconcerned with social dimensions such as “high levels of participation” and “increasingequality in social and economic outcomes,” while what I mean by the “substantive”democratization is more directed to the practical effects of the introduction of formallydemocratic settings on the daily practices and performances within political institutions:see Huber, Rueschemeyer and Stephens (1997), pp. 323–5.

3 Another intriguing question in relation to the relationship between democracy andelections is whether democratization by elections can be a mode of transition.Experiences in East Europe, Latin America and Africa are at best mixed, though:repetitive elections can contribute both to democratic transition and to the preservationof authoritarian regimes. This observation leads to another empirical question aboutthe cost of repression or toleration for rulers or the ruling class. For more detaileddiscussions, see a special section in Journal of Democracy 20:3 (July 2009), pp. 86–135.

4 One of the reasons is, as Georg Lutz points out, that it is much more difficult to collectinformation or data on local elections compared to national elections, for which thereis a wide range of available data (Lutz 2007, 2 and 9).

5 In most cases and the case of post-Soeharto Indonesia in particular, the national politicaldynamics matter a great deal in determining the details of decentralization scheme, fromthe structure of decentralization to the degree of power and authority devolved to localauthorities (Lutz 2007, 7–8; see also Manor 1999). Emphasizing the effect of thesequence of decentralization reforms on the intergovernmental balance of power, TuliaG. Falleti argues that if national interests prevail at the beginning of the process,administrative decentralization is likely to occur first and it tends to set constraints onwhat local officials are politically or fiscally capable of (Falleti 2005, 343). Chapter 2in this book discusses the backgrounds and processes of decentralization in post-SoehartoIndonesia in greater detail.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

6 According to Georg Lutz’s calculations, less than 10 percent of developing countriesheld local elections in 1959, but over 90 percent of developing countries held localelections in 2006 (Lutz 2007, 3–4).

7 Most attention to Indonesia’s 2009 elections was concerned with the electoral processesrather than the elections’ democratic credentials, because of the controversies over themanagement of the national General Election Commission (KPU) in its preparation ofthe registered voters list. The Commission also faced challenges stemming from toocomplicated and detailed election law and regulations as well as a lack of funding andlogistical difficulties. For more detailed discussions, see ANFREL’s report (2009) andthe Carter Center’s report (2009).

8 Indeed, one of the most vigorous debates on Indonesia’s electoral reform after Soeharto’sfall concerned the selection and representativeness of executive heads of the provincialand district governments, which will be discussed in detail in Chapter 2 of this book.

9 Funded by USAID (United States Agency for International Development) andimplemented by RTI International, the Local Governance Support Program (LGSP) inIndonesia worked with national, regional and local governments to promote “partici-patory, effective and accountable governance.” For more details, see its final report athttp://indonesia.usaid.gov/en/programs/democratic_governance (accessed on February16, 2010).

10 They include Aspinall and Fealy (2003), Choi (2003), Schulte Nordholt (2004), Hidayatand Antlöv (2004), Erb, Sulistiyanto and Faucher (2005), Buehler and Tan (2007),Mietzner (2007b), Schulte Nordholt and van Klinken (2007), Buehler (2009) and Erband Sulistiyanto (2009).

11 As Viviane Brachet-Márquez (2005, 478) notes, one often overlooked dimension ofpost-authoritarian politics is the survival or reappearance of undemocratic politics innew or reviving democracies. In reality, democracy and undemocracy are “closelyintertwined in ways that are still to be systematically spelt out and evidenced” and thus,our approach to democratic development needs not to treat undemocratic politics asaccidental or destined to disappear (ibid., 480).

12 For discussion about the positive effect of decentralization in post-Soeharto Indonesia,see Faucher (2005) and Schiller (2002).

13 It is important to note that decentralization is not the cause of corruption or power abuse.But neither is it capable of eradicating old practices, such as rent seeking and patronage,from the daily management of local governments (Hidayat and Antlöv 2004, 278).

14 In contrast to the Soeharto period when the term “corruption” (korupsi) dominateddiscourse on the topic, many Indonesians, including scholars, journalists, activities andeven ordinary citizens, now refer to use the term “money politics,” often in English andoccasionally translated into Indonesian (politik uang). It appears that there has been acommon view that the corruption of the post-Soeharto era should be differentiated fromthe previous one.

15 Political gangsterism took root when semi-criminal gangs were “backed” by political elitesduring the revolutionary period and then by the state, when the New Order state tightenedits control over criminals and the major concern of criminals therefore became to gainpolitical protection for their illegal activities. Gangs or criminal groups quickly localizedthemselves in the wake of the centralized control system over violence and successfullybecame entrenched in local politics. They were now in charge of the “security-cum-mobilization” market that was substantially expanded as a result of the revitalized multi-party politics, and exercise their influence over the decision-making process through theirconnections with party politicians and sometimes their own leaders in local assemblies.

16 Preman used to refer to a policeman or a soldier who was not on duty and not wearinghis uniform. The term was also used to refer to civilian dress such as pakaian permanor baju preman before the 1990s, but the term now refers to hoodlums or criminals,replacing the traditionally used jago or gali, professional criminals or charismatic toughs.The term originated from a Dutch word meaning “a free man,” who could be categorized

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

110 Notes

as neither Dutch, native, slave nor foreigner. The newly popularized meaning of premanrefers to “borderline-criminal marginal youths” in gangs modeled on those operatingin post-colonial Medan. For more detailed discussion on the socio-historical context ofthe emergence of these groups, see Ryter (1998) and Barker (1998).

17 One of the examples is UNDP’s BRIDGE (Building and Reinventing DecentralisedGovernance) project during the period 2005–8. For more details, see UNDP’s projectfacts sheet (July 2008).

18 The relationship between local and national democracy is at best ambivalent. In theory,democratic local government has been taken as “a prerequisite of national democracy”in that they could provide a pertinent political education and better participation for thecitizens while restraining the excesses of centralized power (Smith 1998, 86). In practice,it is unclear how a democratic transition triggers local democratization and democraticlocal government in turn contributes to a viable democratic polity. For more discussionon this matter, see Smith (1998).

19 For analyses of indirect elections of local government heads, see, for example, Mashadand Nurhasim (2005) and Chapter 3 in this book.

20 Public opinion, as expressed by civil society organizations and the mass media, isincreasingly that most political parties have been indifferent to the societal interests oftheir constituents. For instance, the polling conducted by the Center for the Study ofDevelopment and Democracy (CESDA) and the Institute for Economic and SocialResearch, Education, and Information (Lembaga Penelitian, Pendidikan, danPenerangan Ekonomi dan Sosial, LP3ES) in early 2002 shows that many partysupporters were disappointed by the parties that they had supported in the 1999 elections.Around two-thirds of Golkar supporters (62 percent) believed that there was no party“fighting on behalf of the people” (memperjuangkan kepentingan rakyat), and similarproportions of the PPP (67 percent) and the PAN (57 percent) supporters expressed thesame opinion (Media Indonesia, February 21, 2002). Another poll conducted by LP3ESin February 2002 shows that 51 percent of respondents saw no political party “attendingto the people” (memperhatikan rakyat) (Kompas, February 20, 2002). Publicdisillusionment about political parties has continued, demonstrated by a number of pollstaken in the following years. For example, another CESDA–LP3ES survey conductedin May 2003 shows that 64 percent did not regard political parties as a media for people’saspirations and almost half the respondents (49 percent) did not trust political parties(Kompas, June 13, 2003). Despite the high turnouts in the 2004 general and first directpresidential elections, the Indonesian public’s disappointment with political partiesseemed unchanged. In a polling conducted by Kompas, 65 percent of respondentsexpressed their dissatisfaction with the parties’ performance in aggregating aspirationsat the grassroots (Kompas, September 26, 2005). Despite the exciting performance ofthe Democratic Party—from 7.5 percent in 2004 to 20.9 percent in 2009—and the party’spresidential candidate Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s re-election in a landslide victory,Indonesians’ dissatisfaction with political parties continued before and after the 2009elections. Almost half of respondents (43.5 percent) in a survey by the Indonesian SurveyInstitute (Lembaga Survei Indonesia, September 17, 2009) regarded party leadershipsmaking decisions without attending their supporters’ aspirations. As Michael Buehlerand Paige Tan (2007, 64) observe, for many Indonesians a political party simply“epitomizes a self-interested organization.”

21 Here it is worth remembering Samuel P. Huntington’s argument that a party is “strongto the extent to which political activists and power seekers identify with the party, orweak to the extent to that they view the party as simply a means to other ends”(Huntington 1968, 410). Many third-wave democratization cases have proved thatpolitical parties in the post-authoritarian context can develop in either democratic orundemocratic ways.

22 Similar arguments can be made to the outcomes and implications of direct presidentialelections. Indonesian voters, particularly lower- and middle-class voters according to

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 111

Lance Castles’ observation, appeared to be free to choose the president, independentlyof their earlier choices of party representatives in the national and local assemblies. Formore discussion, see Castles (2005).

23 The Constitutional Court’s 2007 decision (No 5/PUU-V/2007), which allowedindependent candidates to contest in elections of local government heads, seems to havenot curtailed this tendency. The decision, reflected in the second amendment to Law No.32/2004 (Law No. 12/2008), was hailed with the expectation that it would “give votersthe chance to vote for a figure not tied to a political party” and also to “put pressure onpolitical parties to reform not just how they select candidates, but how they developpolicy and differentiate themselves from one another” (Gross 2007). Contrary tooptimistic expectations, however, political parties seem to have continuously played avital role in the selection of candidates, in which money and networks tend to determinethe final decisions. For the relationship between candidates of local government headsand political parties, see also Mietzner (2006) and Buehler and Tan (2007).

24 For analysis of the oligarchic consolidation of Indonesia’s major parties, see, forexample, Haris (2005a).

25 Referring to this kind of development, Vedi R. Hadiz (2007, 884) criticizes thatIndonesia’s political parties have become like “auction houses for the rich and powerful”in the regions.

26 The term “patrimonial” in this book generally refers to the domination of the patron–client type of linkages and the pervasiveness of personal, rather than universalistic,interests in the operation of political institutions. For more detailed conceptualizationand case studies, see Chapter 5 in this book.

27 Along this line, Henk Schulte Nordholt (2004, 47) argues that “Indonesian politics hasbeen marked by strong continuities of patrimonial patterns, which have their origin inpre-colonial times.”

28 For further discussion, see Dasgupta and Beard (2007), pp. 229–49.29 Although not the mainstream, skeptical views about holding direct local elections

gathered a reasonable amount of force among Indonesian scholars and observers (e.g.,Legowo 2003; Sinaga 2003; Hijri 2006).

30 Vedi R. Hadiz defines these elite groups as New Order-nurtured predatory local eliteswho “were best positioned to take advantage of democratization and decentralization”(Hadiz 2007, 875 and 878). Henk Schulte Nordholt (2004, 47) also argues that theestablished elites, who were “raised and trained under the New Order,” enjoy “accessto central state agencies and rely on a local constituency which is mobilized throughethnic loyalties.” Although it may be true that such elite groups currently make up themajority of the elite class in Indonesia’s regions, local societies have also witnessed newfaces of diverse political and socio-economic backgrounds rise to crucial positions inlocal governance and politics. Despite the increasing participation and victory of newelites in local power struggles, Indonesia’s local elites—whether New Order-nurturedor not—seem to heavily rely on patrimonial elite politics in obtaining and exercisingpower.

31 In Thailand, strong local elites arose in the 1980s, along with a semi-democracy holdingcompetitive elections (Ufen 2008). In Indonesia, Vedi R. Hadiz also observes that“contests for local office under electoral democracy have mostly constituted strugglesabout opportunities for private capital accumulation on the basis of control over localinstitutions of governance” (Hadiz 2007, 875).

32 Syarif Hidayat and Hans Antlöv observe that Indonesia’s decentralization has beenchallenged by “the resilience of state elites, including civil servants and politicians”because it has actually increased the concentration of power in the hands of a fewestablished elites. For more detailed discussion, see Hidayat and Antlöv (2004), pp.276–8. They also emphasize that there have been some positive developments in localgovernments and the democratization of village governments in particular (see ibid.,281–5).

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

112 Notes

1 Democracy and local power struggle

1 Political decentralization is different from the transfer of administrative authority tolocal units of governance. Administrative decentralization, or de-concentration, refersto the transfer of power from the central government to lower-level authorities that areupwardly accountable to the central government. In contrast, political decentralizationrefers to the transfer of authority to actors or institutions that are accountable to thepopulation under their jurisdiction.

2 Whether the regime change brought about a new leadership and a new powerconfiguration, nationally and/or at the local level, is still under debate. See, for example,Robison and Hadiz (2004), pp. 164–83.

3 The laws also drew much of criticism because of the “highly undemocratic draftingprocess” (Hidayat and Antlöv 2004, 272).

4 Districts (kabupaten) and municipalities (kotamadya) are technically on the same levelof government but distinguished on the basis of whether the administration is locatedin a rural area (district) or an urban area (municipality). Both administrative territoriesare divided into sub-districts (kecamatan), which are further divided into villages (desain rural areas and kelurahan in urban areas).

5 Under the New Order regime, the local assemblies usually proposed three candidatesfor the position of local government head, with the final selection from the three lyingin the hands of the central government. The president decided who would becomegovernors, while the minister of home affairs selected the regents and mayors. Neitherthe president nor the minister was bound to select candidates who got the most votes inthe local assemblies. In some cases, the successful candidates were those with the leastsupport at the local levels (Rasyid 2003, 64–5).

6 Aloysius Benedictus Mboi (2009, 45) commented that the 1999 laws on regionalautonomy endowed local governments with “extreme wide-range of autonomy” and“created a federalist spirit, while leaving behind the principles of a unitary state.” MarcoBünte (2008, 110) also points out that the calls for a revision of the two laws on regionalautonomy had already gained momentum as early as in July 2001 when MegawatiSoekarnoputri became president.

7 This step had been based on Law No. 18 of 1997, which was revised later as Law No.34 of 2000 concerning Local Taxes and Levies. Andi Mallarangeng, an expert onIndonesia’s decentralization programmes, criticized that, without a stable tax base,district and municipal governments had to “make do with a budget subsidy determinedby Jakarta plus whatever minor levies they could scrape up” (quoted in Betts 2003).

8 According to a survey, by November 21, 2005, 30 provinces and 370 districts andmunicipalities had issued 13,520 local regulations on taxes and levies (Kompas, March20, 2006).

9 Presidential Regulation No. 10 of 2001.10 Governmental Regulation No. 20 of 2001.11 From this viewpoint, Widjajanti I. Suharyo pointed out that the intergovernmental

arrangements in the division of authority and functions were too vague and over-simplified in Laws No. 22 and No. 25 (Suharyo 2002, 13; see also Evaquarta 2008).Following this line of reasoning, Syamsuddin Haris recommended that the positionand functions of the new Regional Representative Assembly (DPD) should bestrengthened as a bridging institution between the central and local governments (Haris2004; 2005a).

12 According to a research conducted by Regional Autonomy Watch (Komite PemantauanPelaksana Otonomi Daerah) in 2005, only 311 out of 1,025 local regulations wereadjudged to be correct, and the other 714 local regulations were assessed to beproblematic due to ambiguities in matters such as time, cost, procedure, structure ortariffs (Kompas, March 20, 2006).

13 Aloysius Benedictus Mboi (2009, 45) also criticized that there was “no sign yet of achange of political and administrative patterns of behaviour” at local levels.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 113

14 To be elected in a presidential election, a team of candidates has to win an absolutemajority of votes in the nation as a whole (50 percent plus one) and 20 percent or morein at least half the provinces. If no team meets the criteria, a second round of popularballoting is to be held between the top two pairs of candidates.

15 For example, Law No. 32 of 2004 authorizes the central government to rescind localregulations that violate the Constitution or higher laws (Article 145). Syamsuddin Harisactually warned that the effort of the central government to restrain local governmentsthrough the mechanism of surveillance could threaten the continuity of democratizationand regional autonomy (Haris 2005b, 20). New regional autonomy laws aside, the centralgovernment’s effort to coordinate, if not control, local governments and assembliescan be seen in its new governmental regulations as well as its direct contact with officialsfrom the district and municipal level. In early 2006, for instance, the Yudhoyonogovernment held meetings with local government heads and local assembly membersfrom 33 provinces and 440 districts and municipalities, divided into three regionalregions (East, Central and West). In previous years, the central government held half-yearly meetings only with governors.

16 In late 2006, the national assembly indicated that pilkada langsung would be integratedinto general elections in the revised election law and KPU would centrally coordinateand monitor KPUD in organizing and staging pilkada langsung in the regions (Kompas,December 5, 2006).

17 In a report, the oligarchy of political parties was cynically coined as “partycracy,” withpolitical processes and governance being under the control of political parties whileparty representatives at local assemblies tend to be more accountable to the partyleaderships than to their local constituents. See Bappenas and Laboratorium SosiologiFISIP UI, “Penyusunan Indikator Demokrasi” (February 10, 2004).

18 To govern the gubernatorial and regent or mayoral elections of Aceh held in December2006 following the historical signing of a memorandum of understanding between theIndonesian government and the Free Aceh Movement in 2005, the national assemblylegislated a separate law (Law No. 11 of 2006) and allowed independent candidates torun for the position of local government head. On July 23, 2007, the Constitutional Courtruled that independent candidates should be allowed to run for positions of governor,mayor and regent. Although most party leaders seem to accept the ruling, it is yet unclearwhether the ruling would immediately affect the rules of the game in the coming pilkadalangsung or whether there will be no change until the national assembly revises theexisting laws on election regional administration to reflect the ruling (The Jakarta Post,July 28, 2007; “Independents’ Day,” Tempo No. 48:vii, July 31–August 6, 2007).

19 As we shall see, such a change is expected to reduce chaos and corruption, which marredthe 2005 elections in Depok and Banyuwangi (Chapter 5 in this book).

20 For the relationship between candidates of local government heads and political parties,see also Mietzner (2006) and Buehler and Tan (2007).

21 Organizing and implementing direct local executive elections also requires the Ministryof Home Affairs to issue a series of regulations. For example, in March 2005, the Ministryof Home Affairs issued Ministerial Decree No. 12 of 2005 on “Guidelines for theManagement and Responsibility of the Budget in Elections of Local Government Heads.”

22 Syamsuddin Haris also argued that, compared to the parliamentary and presidentialelections in which the KPU organizes and implements the elections as an independentinstitution, it is a regressive move that the government plays the role of regulator indirect local executive elections (Haris 2005b, 15).

23 The five civil society organizations are the Centre for Electoral Reform (Cetro), thePeople’s Network for Elections Monitoring (Jaringan Masyarakat Pemantau PemiluIndonesia, Jamppi), the People’s Network for Voter Education (Jaringan PendidikanPemilih untuk Rakyat, JPPR), the Civil Society Alliance for Democracy (AliansiMasyarakat Sipil Indonesia untuk Demokrasi, Yappika; formerly known as Yayasan

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

114 Notes

Penguatan Partisipasi, Inisiatif dan Kemitraan Masyarakat Indonesia) and IndonesianCorruption Watch (ICW).

24 With the newly legislated laws on the powers and responsibilities of the KPU (Laws22/2007 and 10/2008), the KPU also faced similar challenges—i.e., the centralgovernment’s intervention—during the preparation for and conduct of the 2009 generalelections. For more detailed discussion, see the Carter Center report (2009), pp. 15–20.

25 The provincial and district or municipal branches of Panwas are composed of fivemembers, each representing the police, attorneys, universities, mass media and informalleaders, respectively, while the sub-district branches are composed of three membersrepresenting three of the abovementioned five elements of the society (Article 57). Thepolice and the attorney appoint their representatives, while the local assembly (DPRD)selects the other three members on the basis of recommendations. The institution is tobe established 21 days before elections and dissolved a month after the inauguration ofthose elected. Its main tasks include monitoring the electoral process, handling reportson the violation of election law and coordinating with members of the sub-district level.Their administrative staffs comprise civil servants transferred from the local governmentand its budget is provided by the DPRD.

2 Winning mayorship by 21 votes: Yogyakarta’s 2001 mayoral election

* An earlier and shorter version of this chapter was published as “Local Elections andParty Politics in Post-Reformasi Indonesia: A View from Yogyakarta,” ContemporarySoutheast Asia 26:2 (August 2004): 280–301.

1 Many assembly members in Yogyakarta mentioned this unspoken conflict between theparty organization and party representatives at local assemblies. Among them wasRahajeng Arhuna Adaninggar, member of the Yogyakarta municipal assembly (PDI-P, 1999–2004), Interview, August 30, 2001, Yogyakarta.

2 Among 55 provincial assembly members, only 6 members had served previously asassembly members at the same level or moved from the district level, while 5 among40 municipal assembly members had experience of assembly membership. Most of thepolitical “freshmen” were in the PDI-P in many regions. For instance, Amrih Widodoobserves in Blora, Central Java, that only one PDI-P member had previous experienceas a legislator, and almost all the others were relative newcomers to the party itself:see, Widodo (2003), p. 185.

3 For the period 1999–2004, female members made up around 10 percent in the provincialassembly and less than 5 percent in the municipal assembly. The composition of femalemembers was expected to increase from the 2004 general election as the revised electionlaw (Law No. 12 of 2003) required political parties to “bear in their hearts” thedesirability of 30 percent of nominated candidates being women. There was no provisionabout the position of women on party lists and women took up only 11.5 percent of thenational assembly (DPR) for the period 2004–9.

4 For example, Sleman district, another rapidly growing business area, also shows a highproportion of assembly members (67 percent) in the private sector.

5 Although it was often unclear whether they just dealt modestly with my question as totheir ambition for the next period, many assembly members that I interviewed duringthe field research in Yogyakarta expressed, even emphasized, their lack of interest inbecoming assembly members for the next period. One possible explanation might bethat at the time of interview, they actually had no knowledge about whether they wouldbe really listed by the party in the next election or not. Another persuasive explanationis that they still tended to regard politics as “something risky and undesirable.”

6 Among these analysts are Kusnanto Anggoro (interview, April 18, 2001, Jakarta) andT.A. Legowo (interview, June 26, 2001, Yogyakarta) of the Centre for Strategic andInternational Studies in Jakarta.

7 Interview, January 8, 2002, Yogyakarta.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 115

8 To quote directly from the interview, “selama saya ada di sini, saya bisa gunakanfasilitas yang ada di sini” (interview, January 11, 2002, Yogyakarta).

9 According to the internal regulation of the PDI-P, to become a cadre of the party requiressubmitting a written application to a village board of the party (Ranting) first (Article4). Then, to become a candidate for the party’s leadership, it is required to show capacityin implementing the party’s activities and also ideological, political and organizationalstability (Article 6). However, it is the central board that determines the criteria andmanner of selecting cadres (Article 6, Clause (3)): “Piagam Perjuangan, Anggaran Dasar,Anggaran Rumah Tangga Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan,” Keputusan KongresI PDI Perjuangan, Semarang, March 27–April 1, 2000.

10 Interview with Aria Bima, head of secretariat of the PDI-P, April 17, 2001, Jakarta.11 The term “basah” (wet) refers to positions which provide ample opportunities for

obtaining financial benefits in contrast to “dry” positions.12 Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX was Minister of State in the Syahrir cabinet (October

1946–June 1947), Amirsyarifuddin’s first and second cabinets (July 1947–January1948), and Hatta’s first cabinet (January 1948–August 1949), Minister of Defence inHatta’s second cabinet (August–December 1949) and during the period of the FederalRepublic of Indonesia (December 1949–September 1950), and then Deputy PrimeMinister in Natsir’s cabinet (September 1950–April 1951) and Minister of Defence inthe Wilopo’s cabinet (April 1952–July 1953): See Suwarno (1994), pp. 440–1, Ricklefs(2001), pp. 296 and 298.

13 Paku Alam is a princely title in Yogyakarta, having been recognized as an independentprincipality since August 11, 1812. However, the proclamation by Prince Paku AlamVIII on September 9, 1945 that he supported the Sultan’s declaration of Yogyakarta’sregional autonomy of the same day resulted in the merger of the two separate states ofYogyakarta into the Special Region of Yogyakarta. He had served as Deputy Governorof Yogyakarta during Sultan HB IX’s governorship period: See Selosoemardjan (1962),pp. 13–14 and 62–3.

14 For the Announcement (Maklumat), see Ismoyo and Sumitro (1998), pp. 27–8.15 This meeting of opposition leaders, which was pushed by student groups, produced an

eight-point communiqué, called the “Ciganjur Declaration” that demanded a newgovernment to take office no later than three months after elections in May 1999. Thecommuniqué also demanded the withdrawal of the military from politics: See O’Rourke(2002), pp. 177–8.

16 The Yogyakarta provincial assembly passed the draft on June 5, 2003 and sent it to thenational assembly to be ratified as a law, but its prospect is unclear with the centralgovernment being anxious to avoid a precedent in Yogyakarta in which a “hereditary”leader would be appointed as governor.

17 Some local civil society organizations suspected that the assembly members joined thecommittee simply to get some more financial rewards (Bernas, May 18, 2001). In fact,by joining the election committee, ordinary assembly members were paid Rp. 550,000,which is much higher than other special committees where they could be paid on averageRp. 175,000 (Leadership Decision No. 16 and 16a/K/PIMP/DPRD/2001, May 18, 2001).

18 The psychological and other tests conducted by most parties in fact did not lookfundamental to the eventual official nomination of the parties. Since many candidatesapplied to more than one political party, each party fraksi seemed to need time to findout those who were emerging as outstanding candidates with support from other partiesas well.

19 Statues and Rules (Anggaran Dasar and Rumah Tangga) of the PDI-P, in particularArticle 37 in Chapter XVI.

20 Pamphlets handed over by the candidates to the Election Committee and the assemblysecretariat of Yogyakarta Municipality (Bernas, August 2, 3 and 15, 2001).

21 Cinde Laras Yulianto had supported Megawati’s faction of the PDI which, after theSoeharto government’s attack on the party headquarters in Jakarta on July 27, 1996,

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

116 Notes

had split from the PDI and eventually formed the PDI-P after the fall of Soeharto: SeeLea and Milward (2001), pp. 58–80.

22 Interview with Cinde Laras Yulianto, August 31, 2001, Yogyakarta.23 Interview with Yaury G.P. Tatanel, ParWI, September 5, 2001, Yogyakarta.24 Haryo Sasongko did not look likely to have a strong support base within the PDI-P, but

he had a very good reputation as an intellectual from Gadjah Mada University.25 Interview with Agus Subagyo, member of the Yogyakarta provincial assembly (PDI-

P), August 14, 2001, Yogyakarta.26 Interview with Tatang Setiawan, member of the Yogyakarta provincial assembly (PDI-

P), August 18, 2001, Yogyakarta. Meanwhile, T.H. Sunardjono, member of theYogyakarta municipal assembly (PDI-P), argued that the recommendation of the centralboard with regard to local elections was no longer relevant in the decentralization era(interview, August 31, 2001, Yogyakarta). According to some other sources, theleadership on the provincial board (DPD) intentionally blocked the communicationbetween the central board and district board because they had received bribes fromEndang Dharmawan (interview with Yaury G.P. Tatanel, ParWI, November 19, 2001,Yogyakarta).

27 Interview with Heru Purwadi, the then secretary of the PAN’s district board forYogyakarta municipality, August 16, 2001, Yogyakarta. He referred to the newregulation of central government on the composition of the assembly chairmanship(Komposisi Pimpinan Dewan) specified by Governmental Regulation No. 21 of 2001.Herry Zudianto, the elected Yogyakarta mayor for the period of 2001–6, lateracknowledged this (interview, January 9, 2002, Yogyakarta).

28 Interview with Cinde Laras Yulianto, August 31, 2001, Yogyakarta.29 Interview with Triyandi Mulkan, August 31, 2001, Yogyakarta.30 This was based on the copy of the written confession by FTNI/Polri that the fraksi had

received money from Muhamad Wahid (FKDK) and Endang Dharmawan (FPDI-P)twice before the election, signed on August 20, 2001. The reason why Wahid made thisadmission was not clear.

31 “Chronology of Muhamad Wahid’s Deputy Mayoral Candidacy by FKDK” (KronologiPencalonan Wakil Walikota dari Fraksi KDK atas nama Bpk. HM Wahid, MM) signedby FTNI/Polri of the Yogyakarta municipality assembly on August 20, 2001, and “Letterof Declaration” (Surat Penyataan) made and signed by Supardi Antono and Zulkarnainin August 2001. These documents were not published and I obtained the copies fromParWI. These documents did not mention the exact amount of money that FTNI/Polrihad received.

32 “Assembly Decision of the Yogyakarta Municipal Assembly No. 10 of 2001 about theRegulations on the Election for Yogyakarta Mayor and Deputy Mayor for the periodof 2001–2006” (Keputusan DPRD Kota Yogyakarta Nomor: 10/K/DPRD/2001 TentangPeraturan Tata Tertib Pemilihan Walikota dan Wakil Walikota Yogyakarta MasaJabatan 2001–2006), May 17, 2001, Articles 26–30 in particular.

33 Rahajeng Arhuna Adaninggar, member of the Yogyakarta municipal assembly (PDI-P), particularly pointed out the communication problems between different levels ofthe party structure. As one of the four PDI-P members who had not attended the finalvoting, she said that while the PAC was too strong in the party structure, the DPC madethe situation more complicated by taking its own line and putting fraksi members in theassembly into a difficult situation (interview, August 30, 2001, Yogyakarta).

34 Bahtanisyar Basyir, chairman of the Yogyakarta municipal assembly (PDI-P), openlyblamed Cinde Laras Yulianto for his role in the internal fragmentation within the partyfraksi as well as the conflict between the DPC and PAC (interview, August 30, 2001,Yogyakarta).

35 Many assembly members representing the PDI-P in both the provincial and municipalassemblies commonly pointed out the random mechanism of recruiting new cadres andthe absence of proper cadrization programs: Among them were Tatang Setiawan and

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 117

Agus Subagyo, members of the Yogyakarta provincial assembly (PDI-P) (interviews,August 14, 2001, Yogyakarta), and Bahtanisyar Basyir, chairman of the Yogyakartamunicipal assembly (PDI-P) (interview, November 12, 2001, Yogyakarta).

36 The same number as those who had attended the voting on August 15, 2001, suggestingthat the conflicting blocs stayed the same as during the election process.

3 The rise of local elites, with money and sosok: the Riau Archipelago’s2005 gubernatorial election

* An original and slightly different version of this chapter was first published as “LocalElections and Democracy in Indonesia: The Riau Archipelago,” Journal ofContemporary Asia 37: 3 (August 2007): 326–345.

1 Law No. 25 of 2002, legislated in September 2002, allowed the Riau Archipelago to beseparated from Riau Province but did not take effect until July 1, 2004.

2 According to data provided in an address delivered by Minister of State for ForeignAffairs of Singapore at Singapore National Day Reception, Batam, August 25, 2005,http://app.mfa.gov.sg/internet/press/view_press_print.asp?post_id=1424 (assessed onAugust 31, 2005). In June 2006, Indonesia and Singapore signed a memorandum ofunderstanding on the plan to set up special economic zones in Batam, Bintan andKarimun in the Riau Archipelago. The plan is still in progress.

3 At the national level, Singapore was the largest investor in 2005, with investmentsamounting to US$3.69 billion, which made up about a third of total foreign directinvestment inflows during that year (The Jakarta Post, March 20, 2006).

4 B.J. Habibie also served as the minister of research and technology until the People’sConsultative Assembly (MPR) elected Soeharto and him as president and vice presidentin early 1998. Later, he led an interregnum government as acting president from May1998 to September 1999.

5 For discussion on the business activities of Habibie’s family members on the islandduring and after his BIDA chairmanship, see Liang (2001, 16–17); Asia Week (“Now,Habibie Inc.,” June 5, 1998; Jose Manuel Tesoro, “En Route to Jakarta,” 4 September1998). Habibie invited a great deal of controversy when he handed over the BIDAchairmanship to his brother J.E. Habibie in 1998. After several months of critical, evencynical, response from the public, J.E. Habibie resigned from the position: See AsiaWeek (June 5, 1998; September 4, 1998) and an interview with J.E. Habibie in Tempo(June 13, 1998).

6 The Batam Municipality was formed within Riau Province on the back of GovernmentRegulation No. 34 of 1983. Then, Presidential Decree No. 7 of 1984 regulated theworking relationship between the two authorities, stating that BIDA was responsiblefor the implementation of development policies, while the municipality government wasresponsible for civil administration.

7 There have been a number of complaints from both domestic and international investorsregarding the FTZ regulations since its launch in January 2009 (see, for example,“Businessmen Demand Revision of Free Trade Zone Regulations,” Tempointeraktif,June 1, 2009; “Pajak Ganda di Zona Bebas Batam Akan Dihapuskan,” Tempointeraktif,December 9, 2009).

8 According to the survey conducted by the Jakarta-based CPS-SSS in 4 provinces and86 districts/municipalities (Rinakit, 2005), the elected provincial government headsgenerally spent their “campaign” funds averaging Rp. 100 billion (US$10 million), whileelected district/municipal government heads generally spent between Rp. 1.8 and 16billion (US$180,000–1.6 million).

9 An exceptional case was the PKS. In Batam, the PKS held a rally of thousands of cadresand supporters at a sports stadium, in which the then party’s chairman, Tifatul Sembiring,and other executive committee members attended. The party was reported to have heldsimilar events in other regions and obligated its cadres and supporters to vote for its own

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

118 Notes

candidates. The PAN–PDI-P coalition also held a rally for the Nyat–Soerya pair butthe rally was much smaller compared to that of the PKS, despite the attendance of suchnational political figures as Megawati Soekarnoputri and Amien Rais, the chairwomanand chairman of the PDI-P and the PAN, respectively.

10 For example, Prijanto Ar-Rabbani, executive director of the Center for Madani Studies,points out that Indonesian voters are emotional and personal in casting their votes becausethey tend to see candidates’ familial and socio-economical backgrounds as well as theiraffiliations with religious organizations (“Pilkada dan Masa Depan Kepri (1),” MediaKepri, June 2, 2005).

11 Michael Buehler and Paige Tan also made a similar observation during Gowa’s 2005regent election. See Buehler and Tan (2007), p. 57.

12 This information is based on interviews with M. Ridwan Lubis, a well-known politicalobserver and also originally from North Sumatra, and Putut Ariyo Tejo, reporter forthe Batam Pos, June 2, 2005, in Batam.

13 Note that there were many eligible but unregistered voters. As in many other regions,the Kepri’s KPUD used demographic data from the local branch of the Population Office,in which many of those who had voted in the 2004 elections were not registered.

14 As discussed in Introduction note 20, Indonesian voters have changed their attitudestoward parties and elections since the late 1990s.

15 The next day of the voting, one local daily reported that only 11 out of 525 voters whowere registered at a polling station in the Batamindo industrial area turned out to vote(Tribun Batam, July 1, 2005).

16 Michael Buehler and Paige Tan (2007) also found that personal and family networksas well as campaign funds played decisive roles in the 2005 Gowa regent election, inSouth Sulawesi. Despite their electoral victory, entrenched elites recruited by majorparties made little or no contribution to the consolidation of those parties in local politicsand governance because they usually remained independent from the parties thatnominated them (ibid., 63).

4 Oligarchic and paralyzed politics: Batam’s 2006 mayoral election

* Copyright © 2007 SOAS. Reproduced by permission of IP Publishing Ltd on behalf ofSOAS. An original version of this chapter was first published as “Elections, Parties,Elites in Indonesia’s Local Politics,” South East Asia Research 15:3 (November 2007):325–54 and its revised version appeared as a chapter, “Batam’s 2006 Mayoral Election:Weakened Political Parties and Intensified Power Struggle in Local Indonesia,” inDeepening Democracy in Indonesia? Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada) editedby Maribeth Erb and Priyambudi Sulistiyanto (Singapore: ISEAS, 2009): 74–100.

1 Law No. 25/2002, legislated in September 2002, allowed the Riau Archipelago to beseparated from Riau Province but did not take effect until July 1, 2004.

2 Law No. 53/1999 states that the working relationship between the municipal governmentand BIDA will be clarified by a governmental regulation. In 2000, the Batam municipalgovernment and BIDA issued a joint decree (No. 05/SKB/HK/VI/2000), establishinga working committee to draft a governmental regulation on the working relationshipbetween the two authorities.

3 Mari Elka Pangestu, the minister of trade, pointed out “the decline of the exports (inBatam) is related to the issues of taxes, tariffs, labor, bureaucracy, and especially thedualism between BIDA and the municipal government” (Kompas, February 21, 2006);Eddy Akun, secretary of Batam’s Industrial Area Association, also blamed Batam’sunclear status for the overlap in authority and conflicting procedures between BIDA andthe municipal government (The Jakarta Post, March 4, 2006); see also Evaquarta (2008).

4 On January 24, 2005, Aburizal Bakrie, the then coordinating minister for the economy,announced that the government decided against a proposal to turn the entire Batamislands area (including 41 neighboring islands) into a single FTZ. According to a news

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 119

analysis of the US Embassy-Jakarta, while BIDA argued the bonded zone schemedecided by the central government would confuse investors and lead to local governmentgraft, local authorities claimed that bonded zones would enable them to better governBatam as mandated under the regional autonomy laws (US Embassy-Jakarta, “Indonesia:Trade and Investment Highlights, January/February 2005”: http://www.usembassyjakarta.org/econ/trade%20highlights-jan-feb-05.pdf, accessed September 27, 2005). TheIndonesian government legislated a Governmental Law (No. 46/2007) on Batam FreeTrade and Free Port Zone in 2007 and officially launched the island, along withneighboring Bintan and Karimun, as an FTZ in January 2009 (The Jakarta Post, January20, 2009; see also Batam municipal government’s official website, http://www.batamkota.go.id).

5 In a seminar held in August 2003, Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS),a Jakarta-based think-tank, recommended “clear and complementary authorizationbetween local government and BIDA” as an important precondition for formulatingBatam as an FTZ. For further discussion, see CSIS, “Batam Free Trade Zone: A Blueprintfor National Economic Recovery” (http://www.csis.or.id/tool_print.asp?type=events&mode=past&id=9, accessed August 3, 2005).

6 Only the PAN is said to have briefly discussed the possibility of nominating a femalecandidate.

7 Asman Abnur was the chairman of the Batam Chamber of Commerce and Industry from1997 to 2000 and then the deputy mayor of Batam from 2002 to 2004.

8 The coalition between Golkar and the PKS seems to have a strong appeal in the RiauArchipelago. In the Karimun regent election, held on February 22, 2006, Golkar andthe PKS formed a coalition which the PPP, the PAN and the Pancasila Patriots’ Party(Partai Patriot Pancasila) joined.

9 Before forming a coalition with Golkar, the PKS considered four other Islamic-orientedparties (PAN, PD, PPP and PBR) as potential partners. The PAN was one of the mostdesirable partners as it had the same ideological orientation and sizeable presence atthe assembly. However, according to the frank acknowledgment by H. Aris Hardi Halim,PKS representative and also deputy chairman of the Batam municipal assembly, theparty could not compromise the people proposed by the PAN, which was plagued bytension between the national leadership and local cadres. Compared to other parties,the PKS’s system of nominating candidates looked unique in that a networking teamconsisting of leaders at different levels of the party leadership selected candidatestogether, reducing hierarchy and enhancing coordination between different levels ofparty leadership (interview with H. Aris Hardi Halim on December 6, 2005 in Batamand H. Mawardi Harni, PAN representative of the Batam municipal assembly onFebruary 21, 2006 in Batam).

10 The fragmentation within the PKB worsened when the ulama faction held a separatecongress in Surabaya and selected Choirul Anam as its chairman in early October 2005.The faction led by the late Abdurrahman Wahid, the party’s first chairman and formerpresident (1999–2001), had already held a congress in Semarang and selected MuhaiminIskandar as its chairman. The Muhaimin faction brought the case to court, and the SouthJakarta National Court ruled that the Muhaimin faction was the only legitimate PKB.On November 15, 2005, however, the Supreme Court ruled that the sacking of AlwiShihab, one of the ulama faction’s prominent leaders, by the Muhaimin faction, was anunauthorized decision, enabling the ulama faction to argue that it was the legitimatePKB (MA No. 1896K/PDT/2005). In September 2006, the Supreme Court brought theconflict to an end by issuing a ruling that the Muhaimin faction was the only legitimateface of the party. The ulama faction declared the establishment of the National UlamaAwakening Party (Partai Kebangkitan Nasional Ulama, PKNU) in November 2006.

11 Interviews with Wardi Atmowiyono and Husbandri, PDI-P representatives in the Batammunicipal assembly and also chairman of sub-district boards of Batu Ampar and Nongsa,February 21, 2006, Batam. Wardi Atmowiyono and Husbandri pointed out that the

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

120 Notes

central board could recommend someone as a candidate from outside the list proposedby local boards. They argued that it would be better if there was an independentcommittee to evaluate the profiles and popularities of potential candidates. They evenshowed their nostalgia for the indirect system in which local assembly members electedlocal government heads, by saying that direct local executive elections were too costly.

12 The PDI-P of Batam held its special working session in September 2005, which 9municipal board members, 54 cadres from 8 sub-district boards, and 100 village-levelcadres attended. The session decided Erdin Odang and Sahat Sianturi as the party’sbest mayoral and deputy mayoral candidates among the seven hopefuls. Erdin Odang,who was not a party cadre, received the majority of the votes (97 out of 163) as theparty’s potential mayoral candidate while Sahat Sianturi, the chairman of the party’smunicipal board since 1999, ranked the first among the four competitors with 93 votes.According to the party’s internal regulations, it is the central board that makes a finaldecision on the party’s candidacy. The central board refused to give its recommendationto all the mayoral candidates, including Erdin Odang, but supported Sahat Sianturi whowas not popular enough to be nominated as mayoral candidate, so the party had to finda mayoral candidate from outside the party. Sahat Sianturi recommended Nazief Dharma,who was supported by the party’s central board but received negative response, and evenstrong rejection, from some party cadres and supporters. On October 28, around 500PDI-P supporters staged a demonstration under a placard that read, “Why should it beNazief?” (Batam Pos, October 29, 2005). Even some of the municipal board membersdid not support Nazief’s nomination by pointing out that he had already lost in theprevious mayoral election despite the PDI-P’s support. However, Sahat insisted onNazief Dharma’s nomination by arguing that Nazief was one of the PDI-P’s constituentsand his nomination was the party’s official decision (Batam Pos, November 11, 2005).

13 Similar intra-party conflicts within major parties were also found in many other cases,including in the 2005 regent election of East Samba (Vel 2005) and the 2006gubernatorial election of Papua (Mietzner 2007b).

14 See also Vel (2005), pp. 95–8 and pp. 106–7.15 The PKS was again an exception in this matter. When the Ahmad–Ria pair declared

their nomination at the Indoor Stadium Tumenggung Abdul Jamal in Batam onNovember 20, 2005, Hidayat Nurwahid, the then chairman of the national People’sConsultative Assembly (MPR) and also former chairman of the party, attended the eventwith a number of high-ranking party leaders from both the central and local boards(Batam Pos, November 21, 2005). The party’s central board was also known to provideits local cadres with training programs (Batam Pos, November 28, 2005).

16 In fact, candidates’ attractiveness and popularity were suggested as the most decisivefactors in local elections. According to a Kompas survey (February 14, 2005), mostIndonesians voters regard a candidate’s education (83 percent) and leadership experience(85 percent) as the most important factors in casting their votes in elections of localgovernment heads. Religion and “locality” (putra daerah) of the candidates arecomparatively less important in direct local elections (41 percent and 45 percent,respectively).

17 Interviews with Valdesz Junianto and Muhammad Nur, reporters of Batam Pos onFebruary 20, 2006 in Batam.

18 Comparatively, the results of the previous gubernatorial election of the Riau Archipelago,in which more than 20 percent of additional votes were cast for the winning candidates,were easier to explain using candidates’ sosok, rather than with voters’ party affiliationsor religion or ethnicity. For more detailed discussion please see Chapter 3.

19 Rosa Evaquarta (2008, 11) also suggests a similar interpretation of the election results.Referring to both gubernatorial and mayoral elections, she argues that the conflictbetween BIDA and the municipal government was resolved through “BIDA’sinfiltration” of the municipal government. Both elections resulted in BIDA-affiliatedbureaucrats in the region’s two highest offices, contributing to boosting business circles’

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 121

expectations about better coordination between the three institutions—i.e., BIDA, themunicipal government and the provincial government.

20 This pattern of nomination of candidates has resulted in inconsistent patterns of partycoalitions across the country. Interestingly, in the Riau Archipelago, Golkar and thePKS have formed coalitions, which are rarely found in other regions, and won in threeelections, from the gubernatorial election to the Batam mayoral election and the Karimunregent election.

21 Most parties’ central boards enhanced their tight control over local cadres from thevery beginning of the revitalized multi-party parliamentary politics (Ellis 2002, 8;O’Rourke 2002, 199). For instance, Article 12 in the revised party law (Law No.31/2002) stipulated that elected members of the DPR and DPRD could be replacedmidterm on the grounds of withdrawal of party membership by the party, or breach ofthe law causing removal from office (Kompas, July 10, 2003; NDI 2003). This “recall”system, which was the norm under the New Order, was not allowed under former LawNo. 4/1999 on the structure and composition of the national and local assemblies, sothat the parties’ central boards were not able to recall those members who had switchedto other parties. The recall system remains unchanged in the new Law No. 2/2008 onpolitical parties.

22 Most observers of the initial rounds of direct local elections agreed that while“accusations of money politics and voter-rigging were plenty” and “political partymachineries did not function effectively” (Lanti 2006, 98), substantive policy debatesplayed a negligible role in those elections (see also Mietzner 2007b; Vel 2005).

23 Comparing the 2006 Papuan gubernatorial election with elections in other regions,Marcus Mietzner (2007b) also points out that entrenched local political and economicelites dominated the contest for local governance.

24 Andreas Ufen also observes that direct local elections have facilitated “new local bosses”to entrench themselves in local political process. For further discussion, see Ufen (2006,26–8). The expression “big kings” is meant to differentiate the directly elected mayors,regents or governors from the often heard “little kings,” who were given their positionsby local assembly members during 1999–2005.

25 Interview with Nada Faza Soraya, chairwoman of the Batam branch of the Chamber ofCommerce and Industry, February 22, 2006, Batam.

26 In early December 2005, it was reported that the draft of a governmental regulation hadbeen agreed by the two authorities and was ready to be signed by the president (BatamPos, December 7, 2005). Yet it is still unclear whether the central government hascome up with a solution to iron out the conflicting situation caused by the presence ofthe two competing authorities in Batam.

27 Interview with Ahmad Dahlan, Batam mayor (2005–10), March 28, 2006, Batam.28 Indeed, those whom I met after the election results were announced expressed their

wishful thinking. Among them are Lilik Lujayanti, staff at BIDA’s Public Relations andMarketing Bureau (February 20, 2006, Batam) and Paul Tan, senior advisor of BatamSingapore Club (February 20, 2006, Batam). The “one-roof” policy took place in 2006and foreign investment increased from US$4.08 billion in 2005 to US$4.85 billion in2008 (from BIDA’s official website, http://www.batam.go.id, accessed on February 10,2010).

29 Another important player in the power struggle between BIDA and the municipalgovernance is the Batam municipal assembly. In fact, it is the assembly that has theauthority to legislate all the regional regulations. In early 2006, a company monopolizingwater supply in Batam raised its tariff rate following the increase of the electricity tariffrate, but the municipal assembly raised a question about the policy. Technically, thecompany was not responsible to BIDA, which already agreed on the tariff increase, butthe municipal assembly criticized the company (and presumably BIDA) for raising thetariff without improving its poor quality service and paying more tax to the municipalgovernment (Batam Pos, March 8, 2006; March 9, 2006; March 16, 2006).

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

122 Notes

5 The reassertion of patrimonial politics: Depok’s and Banyuwangi’s 2005elections

* An original version of this chapter was first published in Indonesia 88 (October 2009):131–64.

1 According to Mushtag H. Khan, the key characteristic of neopatrimonialism is thepersonalization of power. Under such a circumstance, formal rules are less importantthan the informal networks upon which the leader’s power is based. For furtherdiscussion, see Khan (2005) and Erdmann and Engel (2006). Works on patrimonialismin Indonesia’s politics include Crouch (1979), Webber (2006), Hidayat (2007) andSulaiman and van Klinken (2007).

2 On July 5, 1959, President Soekarno issued a presidential decree that dissolved theconstituent assembly and restored the 1945 Constitution. Under Guided Democracy,party representation was partly replaced by functional representation in the stateinstitutions, the parliamentary system was abolished and the government became, inpractice, only accountable to the president. In the absence of other institutions, PresidentSoekarno and the army occupied the decision-making centers toward which all otherwould-be political actors were drawn. See Feith (1994), pp. 19–20 and Liddle (1974),p. 14.

3 Pancasila refers to five principles in the preamble of the 1945 Constitution that guidedits drafting and these were intended to guide its application. These principles were: beliefin God; a just and civilized humanity; the unity of Indonesia; democracy led by thewisdom of deliberation among representatives; and social justice for all Indonesians.These principles formed the basis of New Order political discourse and purportedlyserved as a guiding force in Indonesian governance until the fall of Soeharto in 1998.In particular, since the so-called Ormas (organisasi massa, mass organizations) Law of1985, all special-interest associations in the community, including the various religiousgroups, were required to acknowledge Pancasila as their asas tunggal (sole ideologicalfoundation). For Soeharto’s conceptualization of Pancasila Democracy, see his addressdelivered on August 16, 1967, in Bourchier and Hadiz (2003), pp. 37–41.

4 Other high-profile cases include the North Maluku gubernatorial election and the SouthSulawesi gubernatorial election, both held in late 2007. The Supreme Court’s decisionsfor both cases have been criticized as inconsistent and even contradictory. For the caseof North Maluku, see the International Crisis Group (2009).

5 For a detailed analysis of the ways in which money politics was practiced by localassembly members, see Choi (2003), Chapter IV.

6 Interview with Qurtifa Wijaya, the then chairman of the PKS fraksi at the Depokmunicipal assembly, Depok, December 12, 2005.

7 Interview with Mukhlisin, journalist of Otonomi, a Depok-based monthly magazine,Depok, December 12, 2005.

8 In the 2009 general elections, the PD won over 20 percent of the vote, almost triple thatof 2004, but the party’s victory was mostly attributed to Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’spopularity and his administration’s populist policies. President Yudhoyono was re-elected with a landslide victory in the first round of the direct presidential election.

9 Despite this and other efforts to widen its support base, the PKS received more or lessthe same vote as in 2004, proving that there were limitations in the party’s appeal to thebroader public.

10 Nurmahmudi Ismail was one of the leaders of the Justice Party (Partai Keadilan, PK),which was strongly Islam-oriented and derived support mostly from middle-class Islamicstudy groups and student organizations. The party obtained 1.4 percent of the vote inthe 1999 general elections, failing to pass the electoral threshold of 2 percent. Toparticipate in the 2004 general elections, the party changed its name to PKS and alsochanged its platform, which now focuses on anti-corruption, anti-poverty and goodgovernance campaigns. See “Populist Spirit of a Propagation Party,” Tempo 31:IX,March 31–April 6, 2009.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 123

11 Interview with Ali Nurdin, one of Nurmahmudi Ismail’s lawyers, Jakarta, December10, 2005; and interview with Zulfadli, chairman of the Depok Municipal GeneralElection Commission (KPUD Depok), Depok, December 12, 2005.

12 Article 106, verse (4), of Law No. 32 of 2004: The West Java High Court accepted thecomplaint on July 12 and, thus, it had to announce its verdict by July 26, 2005. If theverse is understood to refer to 14 “working” days, the court had to announce its verdictby August 1, at the latest. The decision was announced on August 4. See “Lima AlasanPKS Tolak Pembatalan Kemenangan Nur Mahmudi,” Tempointeraktif, August 5, 2005;Denny Indrayana, “Putusan Pilkada Depok Batal Demi Keadilan,” Partnership forGovernance Reform in Indonesia, Jakarta, August 9, 2005; Refly Harun, “Kolom:Kemelut Pemilihan Walikota Depok,” Tempointeraktif, August 8, 2005; Center forElectoral Reform, “Pernyataan Pers: Nasib Demokrasi Kita Ada Di Tangan MahkamahAgung,” Jakarta, August 19, 2005; and Amir Syamsuddin, “Kisruh Pilkada Kota DepokBerlanjut,” Kompas, September 5, 2005.

13 Kanis Dursin, “The Easy Way to Win an Election,” The Jakarta Post, August 25, 2005.See also Mahdi Muhammad, “Pilkada Depok Dianulir, PKS: Putusan Pengadilan TinggiJawa Barat Dagelan,” Kompas, August 5, 2005; and Saldi Isra, “Kepala Daerah PilihanHakim,” Kompas, August 9, 2005.

14 Interview with Zulfadli, December 12, 2005.15 Interview with Ali Nurdin, December 10, 200516 Observing the unyielding candidates, their supporters’ incessant rallies and increasingly

polarized local communities, a journalist described the Depok case as “one of the mosteye-catching phenomena” and said it deserved “to be noted in the history of the 2005direct local executive election.” See Sidik Pramono, “Kisruh Pilkada: Ge(r)geran WaliKota Depok,” Kompas, January 3, 2006.

17 For example, the Banten High Court rejected similar complaints brought by the PKSwith regard to the results of Banten’s November 2006 gubernatorial election. See Buehler(2008).

18 Former Minister for Regional Autonomy Ryaas Rasyid related that “the controversyover the [Depok] case has made things awkward for the government.” See Manan,Kustini and Nuraini (2006).

19 Initially, the Supreme Court judged the West Java High Court’s decision to be legallycorrect. See “MA Nyatakan Putusan Pengadilan Tinggi Jabar Sah,” Antara, August 8,2005; and “Putusan PT Final dan Mengikat: Depdagri Tidak Ikut Campur Tangan,”Kompas, August 11, 2005.

20 Interview with M. Razikun, chairman of the PKS’s Election Victory Board, Jakarta,December 12, 2005.

21 Interview with Zulfadli, December 12, 2005.22 Komisi Pemilihan Umum (KPU), “KPUD Depok Resmi Ajukan PK Ke MA Sebagai

Upaya Hukum Luar Biasa,” August 19, 2005, at http://www.kpu.go.id, accessed onSeptember 6, 2005.

23 Manan, Kustini and Nuraini (2006). In fact, Ali Nurdin, Nurmahmudi’s lawyer, was oneof Adnan Buyung Nastion’s assistants. Interview with Ali Nurdin, December 10, 2005.

24 Even Golkar’s cadres seemed startled by the regional court’s decision. They then triedto redirect the controversy to focus on the poor judgment of the judges, rather thantheir decision per se. For example, Babay Suhami, Golkar representative at the Depokmunicipal assembly, argued that “if a judge made a mistake, the judge should beinvestigated, not the decision.” See L.R. Baskoro, M. Kusuma and A. Manan,“Perlawanan Bulan Sabit,” Tempo 26:XXXIV, August 22–8, 2005.

25 KPU, “Tim Panel MA Nilai Majelis Hakim PT Jabar Lakukan ‘UnprofessionalConduct,’” August 26, 2005 at http://www.kpu.go.id, accessed on September 6, 2005.

26 The Judicial Commission, which had just been established about a week before thecase was lodged, found that the West Java High Court’s judges violated the “code ofconduct,” and were unprofessional because they did not consider the keystone issues

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

124 Notes

of fairness, impartiality and equal opportunity. See “Komisi Yudisial Minta HakimKasus Depok Diberhentikan,” Tempointeraktif, September 16, 2005; and “SengketaPilkada Depok: Ketua PT Jawa Barat ‘Diberhentikan’ 1 Tahun,” Kompas, September16, 2005. The Commission recommended that the Justice Board (Majelis Hakim Agung)give Chief Justice Nana Juwana one year of suspension and serve the four other judgeswith letters of reprimand. However, the Supreme Court decided not to respondimmediately to the Judicial Commission’s recommendations, but instead to focus onits own judicial review. After more than a month, the Judicial Commission urged theSupreme Court again to follow up on its recommendations concerning the West JavaHigh Court judges. See “Komisi Yudisial Minta MA Laksanakan RekomendasiMereka,” Tempointeraktif, October 24, 2005.

27 Interview with Mukhlisin, December 12, 2005.28 Mostly concentrated in East Java and Banyuwangi District in particular, the Osing speak

their own dialect (a dialect of Javanese) and have relatively successfully kept their Hindutraditions, although they have increasingly converted to Islam and integrated with othercultures into their own. Banyuwangi is also known as one of the most powerful centersof black magic in Indonesia. In the late 1990s, the remote district drew serious attentionfrom domestic and international journalists and scholars because of a series of mysteriousmurders of black-magic practitioners and local Islamic clerics during 1998. Regardingthe Osing’s culture and religious, see Beatty (1999), pp. 11–12 and 18–20. For analysisof black magic and these mysterious murders, see Brown (2000) and Sunarlan (2002).

29 For example, it is well documented that during the turmoil of the 1965–6 massacres,local political and religious elites mobilized youth to carry out political violence againstmembers and supporters of the Indonesian Communist Party (Partai Komunis Indonesia,PKI). For further discussion, see Cribb (1990) and Robinson (1995).

30 East Java is one of the strongholds of NU, the traditionalist Islamic organization thatclaims around 30 million members across the country. Founded by NU leaders, includingformer President Abdurrahman Wahid, the PKB held 16 seats in the Banyuwangi districtassembly for the period 2004–9 but lost big in the 2009 general elections, becomingthe fourth party with 6 seats following the PDI-P (12 seats), PD (11) and Golkar (7)(the total number of seats increased to 50 for the new period).

31 Although Golkar nominated another pair of candidates, Eko argued that he had receivedunofficial support from his fellow Golkar representatives and cadres. Interview withEko Sukartono, deputy chairman of the Banyuwangi district assembly, Banyuwangi,December 14, 2005.

32 In fact, it seems that the PKB’s fragmentation at the national level worsened as thecontroversy evolved in Banyuwangi over which faction was legitimately eligible tonominate the party’s candidate. By the time of Banyuwangi’s 2005 regent election, theSouth Jakarta National Court had ruled that the Muhaimin faction was the only legitimaterepresentative of the PKB in that region. However, on November 15, 2005, the SupremeCourt ruled that the sacking of Alwi Shihab, one of the Ulama faction’s prominentleaders, by the Muhaimin faction had been an unauthorized decision. This ruling enabledthe Ulama faction to argue that it was the legitimate voice of the PKB. The SupremeCourt finally brought the conflict to an end in September 2006 by issuing a ruling thatthe Muhaimin faction was the only legitimate agent for the party. The Ulama factiondeclared the establishment of the National Ulama Awakening Party (Partai KebangkitanNasional Ulama, PKNU) in November 2006.

33 Hary Supriyanto, member of the KPUD Banyuwangi, argued that “if there is dualismin the party’s leadership, and the court has not decided which one is legitimate, theleadership [that existed] before conflict began should be regarded as legitimate,” referringto Law No. 32 of 2002 on political parties (Kompas, April 12, 2005).

34 According to Komang Laksana and Bomba Sugiarto, chairman and secretary of the PDI-P fraksi in the Banyuwangi district assembly, the party originally had 12 poten-tial candidates, but Ratna Ani Lestari received the majority of the vote at the party’s

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 125

sub-district level special convention. The convention selected three pairs of candidatesand proposed them for a “fit and proper” test to the district board, which then short-listedtwo of them, including Ratna’s pair. Interviews with Komang Laksana and BombaSugiarto, Banyuwangi, December 15, 2005. See also “Di Banyuwangi, Partai GuremJadi Kendaraan Alternatif Menuju Pencalonan,” Kompas, April 6, 2005. Some othersources, including Achmad Wahyudi, inferred that Ratna had paid party cadres fortheir votes. Interview with Achmad Wahyudi, chairman of the Banyuwangi districtassembly, Banyuwangi, December 14, 2005.

35 See also “The Disappointed Electorates,” Tempo 43:V, June 28–July 3, 2005.36 Conversations with Sunarlan, lecturer at Jember University, Banyuwangi, December

14–15, 2005.37 Conversations with Sunarlan, Banyuwangi, December14–15, 2005.38 My conversations with Banyuwangi people often centered on issues related to corruption,

which appeared to be one of the determinant issues in the election. See also “WargaBerharap: Banyuwangi Perlu Pemimpin Bebas Korupsi,” Kompas, April 18, 2005.

39 Interview with Nurhadi, lawyer at the Surabaya Legal Aid Institute, a branch of theFoundation of Indonesian Legal Aid Institute (Yayasan Lembaga Bantuan HukumIndonesia, YLBHI), Surabaya, December 13, 2005. Nurhadi was originally fromBanyuwangi.

40 The PKB’s central board also annulled cadre Achmad Wahyudi’s membership in theparty, a move that was immediately criticized by the Ulama faction’s Choirul Anamfor violating the party’s internal regulations. The Banyuwangi State Court later ruledthat the cancellation of Wahyudi’s membership as a PKB cadre was illegitimate. See“DPP PKB Resmi Gugat KPU Banyuwangi,” Kompas, April 9, 2005; and “PembekuanDPC PKB Achmad Wahyudi Tidak Sah,” Kompas, April 23, 2005.

41 According to Pebdi Arisdiawan, a Golkar representative in the district assembly, someof KPUD’s members were in conflict with Samsul Hadi, while members of PanwasBanyuwangi were Samsul’s delegates (or titipan). Interview with Pebdi Arisdiawan, aGolkar representative at the Banyuwangi district assembly, Banyuwangi, December 14,2005.

42 The five organizations include the Banyuwangi Society Forum Caring for Education(Forum Masyarakat Peduli Pendidikan Banyuwangi), the Asia Pacific Institute (AsiaPasifik Institut), the Annisa Image (Citra Annisa), the Ulama Work Squad (SatuanKarya Ulama) and the National Development Foundation (Yayasan PembangunanBangsa). In a separate legal case, the State Administrative Court (Pengadilan TataUsaha Negara, PTUN) in Surabaya ruled on May 25 that the KPUD should accept thecandidates nominated by the Hasyim Choli faction, i.e., Samsul Hadi and GatotSirajuddin. However, it contradicted an earlier ruling by the Banyuwangi State Courtthat Wahyudi’s leadership was the only legitimate one for the PKB’s Banyuwangidistrict board. This legal inconsistency certainly added confusion to the dispute betweenthe two factions. See “Deinilai Inkonstitutional, KPU Banyuwangi Digugat LimaLSM,” Kompas, May 25, 2005; and “DPP PKB Menangi Gugatan di PTUN,” Kompas,May 26, 2005.

43 Interview with Pebdi Arisdiawan, December 14, 2005; interview with Eko Sukartono,December 14, 2005; and interviews with Komang Laksana and Bomba Sugiarto,December 15, 2005.

44 See a media interview with Ahmad Syakib, chairman of the KPUD Banyuwangi,“Pilkada Banyuwangi Tetap 20 Juni,” Kompas, May 30, 2005.

45 Voters were required to have lived in the appropriate voting district for six consecutivemonths to qualify. At the time of the election, Ratna lived in Jembrana, Bali, and AliSyaroni and Syafi’i Asyari resided in Surabaya and Jember, East Java, respectively.

46 Interview with Nurhadi, December 13, 2005; interview with Samsudin Adlawi, directorof Radar Banyuwangi, Banyuwangi, December 15, 2005; and see also “Pilkada MasihTerkendala Dualisme Calon,” Kompas, April 30, 2005.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

126 Notes

47 It was rumored that Samsul decided to support Ratna when he finally gave up seekingre-election. Supposedly, by endorsing Ratna rather than his rival Wahyudi, he tried tomaintain his influence over bureaucrats and other personal connections. Interview withSamsudin Adlawi, December 15, 2005.

48 Samsudin Adlawi pointed out that the complaints filed by the 13 small parties were just“made up” (or diada-adakan). Interview with Samsudin Adlawi, December 15, 2005.

49 Interview with Nurhadi, December 13, 2005.50 From various interviews, Surabaya and Banyuwangi, December 13–15, 2005. According

to Samsudin Adlawi, Ratna adopted Banyuwangi’s native egalitarian culture (originallyderived from the Osing communities, for the Osing speak a non-hierarchical dialectrather than hierarchical Javanese). Unlike other local elites who commanded traditionalpaternalistic networks, Ratna became popular among local people with her low-keymanner. Even after being elected, Ratna was reported to have continued making regularvisits to villages (turun ke bawah), sometimes with her husband, over the weekends.Interview with Samsudin Adlawi, December 15, 2005; see also Beatty (1999), pp. 18–19.

51 Interview with K.H. Syamsul Mu’arif, kyai, Banyuwangi, December 15, 2005.52 “Legitimasi Kyai dan Kekuasaan” [Kyai’s Letigimacy and Power], seminar organized

by the NU Student Association (Ikatan Pemuda Nahdlatul Ulama, IPNU) in theGlenmore sub-district on June 16, 2005. See “Kiai Tidak Harus Netral Dalam PolitikPraktis Pilkadal,” Radar Banyuwangi, June 17, 2005.

53 Such allegations appeared in various media reports, including “Politik Uang, Uang,Uang Politik . . .,” Kompas, June 14, 2005.

54 Interview with Achmad Wahyudi, December 14, 2005.55 It is interesting to question how much more money has been used under a direct electoral

system compared with the previous indirect system, but it is not easy to answer. All thepairs of candidates have to report their campaign funds to the KPUD after voting iscomplete (the Ratna–Yusuf pair reported the largest campaign fund among the fivepairs), but this routine is fairly procedural, and the KPUD usually accepts the reportswithout submitting them to any validation process. It can be assumed that buying votesfrom a large pool of ordinary voters might be more costly than the earlier practices, butthe previous indirect electoral system was also notoriously costly, for candidates hadto “secure” assembly members’ votes by paying or promising (tens of) millions of Rupiahper vote. For a case study of the indirect electoral system, please see Chapter 2 in thisbook.

56 Interview with Samsudin Adlawi, Banyuwangi, December 15, 2005.57 In fact, even before election day, five parties of the GNNP coalition tried to withdraw

their support for the Ratna–Yusuf pair. On May 30, the PKS, PAN, PKPB, PNB andthe Freedom Party officially informed the KPUD of their withdrawal, arguing that theirnomination of the Ratna–Yusuf pair had been flawed because the nomination letterwas not signed by the parties’ chairmen. The KPUD Banyuwangi did not accept suchan argument. See “18 Partai Cabut Pencalonan Ratna–Yusuf,” Kompas, May 31, 2005.

58 Addressing the ambiguity of Law No. 32 of 2004 on this matter, the Department ofHome Affairs issued a circulation letter (Surat Edaran No.120/1559/SJ) on June 27,2005. The letter disallows local assemblies to intervene in determining the fate of electedlocal government head. In legal terms, local assemblies have no right or authority toreject the KPUD’s determination regarding the election results. Sidik Pramono, “CaraBaru Mengganjal Kepala Daerah Baru,” Kompas, June 20, 2005.

59 Interviews with Komang Laksana and Bomba Sugiarto, December 15, 200560 Interview with Pebdi Arisdiawan, December 14, 2005. Members of the Young Caucus

visited the Department of Home Affairs in Jakarta to mediate among different factionsat the assembly. See “Geng Muda DPRD Segera Temui Mendagri,” Radar Banyuwangi,August 12, 2005.

61 Interview with Samsudin Adlawi, December 15, 2005.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Notes 127

62 In an interview with me, Achmad Wahyudi criticized the elected regent’s style as“arrogant” and called her “unapproachable.” Interview with Achmad Wahyudi,December 14, 2005.

63 It seems that Ratna chose to confront, rather than compromise with, the district assembly.It was reported that she had issued a number of decrees without consulting party leadersat the assembly. For instance, her decision to include pork prices in the district’sconsumer-price index became highly controversial, since over 90 percent of the localpopulation was officially Muslim. Decrees concerning the provision of free healthcareand education also stirred up controversy because the policies excluded private schoolsthat enroll students from poor families. More importantly, as many Islamic leaderscomplained, the education policy excluded Islamic educational institutions fromreceiving benefits. See “Banyuwangi: Kiai Datang Gubernur Jawa Timur,” Kompas,May 9, 2006. Similarly, the free healthcare provision was criticized because the policycaused financial problems for many community health centers. See Indra Harsaputraand Iman D. Nugroho, “Banyuwangi Regent Reaches out to Ulema,” The Jakarta Post,May 10, 2006. Ratna’s administration also ignored the district assembly’s budgetaryrequest for the district’s 2006 budget. According to Samsudin Adlawi, she also tried toeradicate corruption from the government. Under Samsul Hadi, around Rp. 30 billionhad been transferred to the regent, department heads and assembly members as “fees,”fees that comprised, on average, 10 to 25 percent of the cost of any government project.Ratna instead tried to introduce the “functional bonus” in order to discourage officials’involvement in corrupt practices: Interview with Samsudin Adlawi, December 15, 2005.

64 The fact that local assembly members have no authority to impeach local governmentheads (Article 29 of Law No. 32 of 2004) could have given Ratna more leverage inmanaging her administration and implementing major policies, but, at the same time,it appeared to motivate local elites to try to mobilize their mass base in an attempt todestabilize her government.

65 According to a report, candidates nominated by majority parties won in only a third ofthe elections held between June 2005 and June 2006, while candidates nominated byminority parties or party coalitions won in the rest. As the Banyuwangi case demon-strates, local government heads with weak support at local assemblies have faceddifficulty in working with assembly members, a widespread pattern that could result in“a nightmare to democratic process at the local level.” See Suwardiman, “HubunganLegislatif-Eksekutif: Di Tengah Samarnya Mekanisme Perundangan,” Kompas, July13, 2006.

Conclusion: political change and pathways to power

1 Using research data compiled by Demos (Centre for Democracy and Human RightsStudies), A.E. Priyono suggested that state institutions and resources are the mainresources of local power in post-New Order Indonesia. Regarding the phenomenonthat he defines as the rise of “oligarchic democracy,” he argues that “the economic-political sources of the state has become the pillar of the power of the dominant (local)actors—just the way it has been taught to them by their teachers from the New Orderera” (Priyono 2005).

2 Andreas Ufen also observes that direct local elections have facilitated “new local bosses”to entrench themselves in local political process. For further discussion, see Ufen (2006,26–8). The expression “big kings” is meant to differentiate the directly elected mayors,regents or governors from the often heard “little kings,” who were given their positionsby local assembly members during the period 1999–2005.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

128 Notes

Bibliography

Ahmad, Ehtisham and Bert Hofman, 2000, “Indonesia: Decentralization—Opportunitiesand Risks.” IMF and World Bank Resident Mission, downloaded from www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/seminar/2000/idn/oprisk.pdf on May 5, 2011.

Aini, Nurul, 2002, “Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah dan Demokratisasi PemerintahanDaerah” in Syamsuddin Haris (ed.), Decentralisasi, Demokratisasi & AkuntabilitasPemerintah Daerah, Jakarta: AIPI (Asosiasi Ilmu Politik Indonesia), 128–41.

Alm, James, Jorge Martinez-Vezquez and Sri Mulyani Indrawati, 2004, eds., ReformingIntergovernmental Fiscal Relations and the Rebuilding of Indonesia: The “Big Bang”Program and Its Economic Consequences, Cheltenham and Northampton, MA: EdwardElgar.

Amal, Ichlasul, 1994, “The Dilemmas of Decentralization and Democratization” in DavidBourchier and John Legge (eds.), Democracy in Indonesia: 1950s and 1990s, Clayton:Monash Papers on Southeast Asia No. 31, Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, MonashUniversity, 214–22.

Ananta, Aris, Evi Nurvidya Arifin and Leo Suryadinata, 2005, Emerging Democracy inIndonesia, Singapore: ISEAS.

ANFREL (The Asian Network for Free Elections), 2009, “A Decade of Democracy inIndonesia: The 2009 Legislative Election.” Report of International Election ObservationMission.

Antlöv, Hans, 2002, “The Making of Democratic Local Governance in Indonesia.’ Paperpresented at the International Workshop on “Participatory Planning: Approaches forLocal Governance,” Bandung, January 20–7.

——, 2003, “Not Enough Politics! Power, Participation and the New Democratic Polity inIndonesia” in Edward Aspinall and Greg Fealy (eds.), Local Power and Politics inIndonesia: Decentralisation & Democratisation, Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies, 72–86.

Arghiros, Daniel, 2001, Democracy, Development and Decentralization in ProvincialThailand, Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, Nordic Institute of Asian Studies Democracy inAsia series No. 8.

Asia Foundation, 2002, “Indonesia’s Rapid Decentralization Appraisal (IRDA): FirstReport,” May.

——, 2004, “Indonesia: Overview,” The Asia Foundation Website, downloaded fromhttp://www.asiafoundation.org/Locations/indonesia.html on November 7, 2006.

Aspinall, Edward and Greg Fealy, 2003, eds., Local Power and Politics in Indonesia:Decentralization and Democratisation, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Astuti, Christina, 1994, “Rekrutmen Elite Politik di Tingkat Lokal: Kasus Pemilihan JabatanGubernur di Propinsi Jawa Timur.” M.A. thesis, Yogyakarta: Gadjah Mada University,Yogyakarta.

Azfar, Omar, Satu Kähkönen, Anthony Lanyi, Patrick Meagher and Diana Rutherford, 1999,“Decentralization, Governance and Public Services: The Impact of InstitutionalArrangements,” IRIS Centre, University of Maryland, College Park, September.

Barker, Joshua, 1998, “State of Fear: Controlling the Criminal Contagion in Suharto’s NewOrder,” Indonesia 66 (October), 7–42.

Beatty, Andrew, 1999, Varieties of Javanese Religion: An Anthropological Account,Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press.

Betts, Ian L., 2003, “Decentralisation in Indonesia: A Review of Decentralisation Policyand the Problems and Issues that have Faced Businesses and Investors since theImplementation of Regional Autonomy in Indonesia,” Harvest International’s JournalFor Decision Makers, June–July, downloaded from http://www.harvest-international.com/perspec/Jun_Jul03/prints/special.htm on February 6, 2006.

BIDA (Batam Industrial Development Authority), 2005, Development Progress Batam,Indonesia 2004, Batam: BIDA.

Bjornlund, Eric, Glenn Cowan and William Gallery, 2007, “Elections Systems and PoliticalParties in Post-Conflict and Fragile States” in Derick W. Brinkerhoff (ed.), RebuildingGovernance in Post-Conflict Societies and Fragile States: Emerging Perspectives, Actors,and Approaches, New York: Routledge, 108–47.

Blair, Harry, 2000, “Participation and Accountability at the Periphery: Democratic LocalGovernance in Six Countries,” World Development 28:1, 21–39.

Bourchier, David and Vedi R. Hadiz, 2003, eds., Indonesian Politics and Society: A Reader,London and New York: RougledgeCurzon.

Brachet-Márquez, Viviane, 2005, “Undemocratic Politics in the Twentieth Century andBeyond” in Thomas Janoski, Robert Alford, Alexander Hicks and Mlidred A. Schwartz(eds.), The Handbook of Political Sociology: States, Civil Societies, and Globalization,Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 461–81.

Brown, Jason, 2000, “The Banyuwangi Murders,” Inside Indonesia, No. 62, April–June.Brinkerhoff, Derick W. and Arthur A. Goldsmith, 2002, “Clientelism, Patrimonialism, and

Democratic Governance: An Overview and Framework for Assessment andProgramming.” Paper presented for the US Agency for International Development Officeof Democracy and Governance, December.

Buehler, Michael, 2008, “The Direct Elections of Regents and Governors in Post-New OrderIndonesia: Oligarchic Restructuring of Democratization?” Paper prepared for deliveryat the 2008 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Boston, MA,August 28–31.

——, 2009, “The Rising Importance of Personal Networks in Indonesian Local Politics:An Analysis of District Government Head Elections in South Sulawesi in 2005” inMaribeth Erb and Priyambudi Sulisyanto (eds.), Deepening Democracy in Indonesia?Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada), Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies, 101–24.

Buehler, Michael and Paige Tan, 2007, “Party–Candidate Relationships in Indonesian LocalPolitics: A Case Study of the 2005 Regional Elections in Gowa, South SulawesiProvince,” Indonesia 84, October, 41–69.

Bünte, Marco, 2008, “Indonesia’s Protracted Decentralization: Contested Reforms and TheirUnintended Consequences” in Marco Bünte and Andreas Ufen (eds.), Democratizationin Post-Suharto Indonesia, London and New York: Routledge, 102–23.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

130 Bibliography

Carothers, Thomas, 2006, Confronting the Weakest Link: Aiding Political Parties in NewDemocracies, Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

——, 2007, “The ‘Sequencing’ Fallacy,” Journal of Democracy 18:1, 12–27.Carter Center, 2005, The Carter Center 2004 Indonesia Election Report, June.——, 2009, “Final Report of the Carter Center Limited Observation Mission to the April

9, 2009 Legislative Elections in Indonesia,” August, downloaded from http://www.cartercenter.org/resources/pdfs/news/peace_publications/election_reports/FinalReportIndonesia2009.pdf on February 16, 2010.

Castles, Lance, 2005, “Why and How Did SBY Win?” in Margaret Kartomi (ed.), The Yearof Voting Frequently: Politics and Artists in Indonesia’s 2004 Elections, Clayton: MonashAsia Institute, Monash University Press, 93–104.

CETRO (Centre for Electoral Reform), 2004, “Urgensi Revisi UU No. 32/2004 TentangPemerintahan Daerah Sebelum Penyelenggaraan Pilkada,” downloaded from http://www.cetro.or.id on August 16, 2005.

——, 2005, “Pernyataan Pers: Nasib Demokrasi Kita Ada Di Tangan Mahkamah Agung,”Jakarta, August 19.

Choi, Nankyung, 2003, “Democratisation, Decentralization, and Local Party Politics in Post-Soeharto Indonesia.” Ph.D. dissertation, Canberra: Australian National University.

Colombijn, F., 2003, “Chicks and Chicken: Singapore’s Expansion to Riau,” IIAS Newsletter,No. 31, July.

Cribb, Robert, 1990, ed., The Indonesian Killings of 1965–1966: Studies from Java and Bali,Clayton, Victoria: Monash Papers on Southeast Asia No. 21, Monash University Centreof Southeast Asian Studies.

Crook, Richard C. and James Manor, 1995, “Democratic Decentralization and InstitutionalPerformance: Four Asian and African Experiences Compared,” Journal of Commonwealthand Comparative Politics 33, 309–34.

Crouch, Harold, 1979, “Patrimonialism and Military Rule in Indonesia,” World Politics31:4, 571–87.

Dahl, Robert A., 1971, Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition, New Haven: YaleUniversity Press.

Dalle, Rumbadi, 2005, “Mewaspadai Kecurangan Pilkada,” Bantam Pos, June 29.Dasgupta, Aniruddha and Victoria A. Beard, 2007, “Community Driven Development,

Collective Action, and Elite Capture in Indonesia,” Development and Change 38:2,229–49.

Diamond, Larry J. and Marc F. Plattner, 2006, Electoral Systems and Democracy, Baltimore:Johns Hopkins University Press and the National Endowment for Democracy.

Djohan, Djohermansyah and Made Suwandi, 2005, eds., Pilkada Langsung: Pemikirandan Peraturan, Jakarta: IIP Press.

Dye, Thomas and Harmon Zeigler, 1997, “The Irony of Democracy” in Eva Etzioni-Halevy(eds.), Classes and Elites in Democracy and Democratization: A Collection of Readings,New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc, 153–9.

Ellis, Andrew, 2002, “Constitutional and Electoral Reforms: Successes and Failures,” VanZorge Report, June 28.

Erb, Maribeth and Priyambudi Sulistiyanto, 2009, eds., Deepening Democracy in Indonesia?Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada), Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies.

Erb, Maribeth, Priyambudi Sulistiyanto and Carole Faucher, 2005, eds., Regionalism in Post-Suharto Indonesia, London and New York: RouthledgeCurzon.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Bibliography 131

Erdmann, Gero and Ulf Engel, 2006, “Neopatrimonialism Revisited—Beyond a Catch-AllConcept,” GIGA Working Paper No. 16, Hamburg: German Institute of Global and AreaStudies.

Evaquarta, Rosa, 2008, “Business and Political Actor Relationship in Indonesia’s LocalAutonomy Project: A Comparative Study on Batam City and Kutai KartanegaraRegency.” Paper presented at the 17th Biennial Conference of the Asian Studies ofAustralia, Melbourne, July 1–3.

Falleti, Tulia G., 2005, “A Sequential Theory of Decentralization: Latin American Casesin Comparative Perspective,” American Political Science Review 99:3, August, 327–46.

Faucher, Carole, 2005, “Regional Autonomy, Malayness and Power Hierarchy in the RiauArchipelago,” in Maribeth Erb, Priyambudi Sulistiyanto and Carole Faucher (eds.),Regionalism in Post-Suharto Indonesia, London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon,125–40.

Fealy, Greg, 2001, “Parties and Parliament: Serving Whose Interests?” in Grayson Lloydand Shannon Smith (eds.), Indonesia Today: Challenges of History, Singapore: Instituteof Southeast Asian Studies, Indonesia Assessment Series, Research School of Pacificand Asian Studies, Australian National University, 97–111.

Feith, Herbert, 1962, The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia. Ithaca, NY:Cornell University Press.

——, 1994, “How Well Did Constitutional Democracy Function?” in David Bourchier andJohn Legge (eds.), Democracy in Indonesia: 1950s and 1990s, Clayton, Victoria: MonashUniversity, 16–25.

Gaduh, Arya B. and Laila Kuznezov, 2005, “Making Services Work for the Poor inIndonesia, Case Study 6: Health Insurance Reform in Jembrana District, Bali Province.”Report, the Ash Institute and the World Bank, September.

Gross, Jeremy, 2007, “Behind the Jamboree: Direct Local Elections Give Jakartans a Sayin their City’s Future,” Inside Indonesia 90, October–December.

Hadiz, Vedi R., 2003, “Power and Politics in North Sumatra: The Uncompleted Reformasi”in Edward Aspinall and Greg Fealy (eds.), Local Power and Politics in Indonesia:Decentralisation & Democratisation, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies,119–31.

——, 2004, “Indonesian Local Party Politics: A Site of Resistance to Neo-Liberal Reform,”Critical Asian Studies 36:4, 615–36.

——, 2007, “The Localization of Power in Southeast Asia,” Democratization 14:5, 873–92.Haris, Syamsuddin, 2004, “Fungsi DPD Mesti Diperkuat,” Otonomi, August.——, 2005a, Pemilu Langsung di Tengah Oligarki Partai: Proses Nominasi dan Seleksi

Calon Legislatif Pemilu 2004, Jakarta: Gramedia Pustaka Utama.——, 2005b, “Pilkada Langsung dan Masa Depan Otonomi Daerah.” Jurnal Politika 1:1,

May, 7–20.Harriss, John, Kristian Stokke and Olle Törnquist, 2004, “Introduction: The New Local

Politics of Democratisation” in John Harriss, Kristian Stokke and Olle Törnquist (eds.),Politicising Democracy: The New Local Politics of Democratization, Basingstoke andNew York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1–28.

Haryanto, Ignatius, 2005, “Pers Lokal dan Demokratisasi,” Kompas, June 30.Hidayat, Syarif, 2007, “‘Shadow State’? Business and Politics in the Province of Banten”

in Henk Schulte Nordholt and Gerry van Klinken (eds.), Renegotiating Boundaries: LocalPolitics in Post-Suharto Indonesia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 203–24.

——, 2009, “Pilkada, Money Politics and the Dangers of ‘Informal Governance’ Practices,”in Maribeth Erb and Priyambudi Sulisyanto (eds.), Deepening Democracy in Indonesia?

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

132 Bibliography

Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada), Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies, 125–46.

Hidayat, Syarif and Hans Antlöv, 2004, “Decentralization and Regional Autonomy in Indonesia”in Philip Oxhorn, Joseph S. Tulchin and Andrew D. Selee (eds.), Decentralization,Democratic Governance, and Civil Society in Comparative Perspective, Baltimore andLondon: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 266–91.

Hijri, Yana Syafriyana, 2006, “Pilkada Langsung: Pesimisme Demokcrasi Lokal” inNurudin, Rachmad K. Dwi Susilo and Tri Sulistyaningsih (eds.), Kebijakan Elitis PolitikIndonesia, Yogyakarta: Penerbit Pustaka Pelajar, 179–202.

Huber, Evelyne, Dietrich Rueschemeyer and John D. Stephens, 1997, “The Paradoxes ofContemporary Democracy: Formal, Participatory, and Social Dimensions,” ComparativePolitics 29:3, April, 323–42.

Huntington, Samuel P., 1968, Political Order in Changing Societies, New Haven andLondon: Yale University Press.

Imawan, Riswandha, 2002, “Desentralisasi, Demokratisasi dan Pembentukan GoodGovernance” in Syamsuddin Haris (ed.), Decentralisasi, Demokratisasi & AkuntabilitasPemerintah Daerah, Jakarta: AIPI (Asosiasi Ilmu Politik Indonesia), 43–54.

International Crisis Group, 2009, “Local Election Disputes in Indonesia: The Case of NorthMaluku,” Asia Briefing No. 86, Jakarta.

Ismoyo, Wasi and Sunaryo Purwo Sumitro, 1998, Sri Sultan Hmengku Buwono X: BersikapBukan Karena Ambisi, Yogyakarta: BIGRAF Publishing.

Isra, Saldi, 2005, “Pemilihan Kepala Daerah Langsung: Catatan Kritis atas Beberapa IsuKrusial dalam UU No. 32 Tahun 2004,” Jurnal Politika 1:1, May, 21–35.

Johnson, Craig, 2001, “Local Democracy, Democratic Decentralisation and RuralDevelopment: Theories, Challenges and Options for Policy,” Development Policy Review19:4, 521–32.

Kahin, Audrey R., 1994, “Regionalism and Decentralization” in David Bourchier and JohnLegge (eds.), Democracy in Indonesia: 1950s and 1990s, Clayton: Monash Papers onSoutheast Asia No. 31, Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 204–13.

Karl, Terry Lynn, 1995, “The Hybrid Regimes in Central America,” Journal of Democracy6:3, 72–86.

Katz, Richard S., 1997, Democracy and Elections, Oxford and New York: Oxford UniversityPress.

Kerkvliet, Benedict J., 1996, “Contested Meanings of Elections in the Philippines” in R. H. Taylor (ed.), The Politics of Elections in Southeast Asia, Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press, 136–63.

Kerkvliet, Benedict J., and Resil B. Mojares, 1991, eds., From Marcos to Aquino: LocalPerspectives on Political Transition in the Philippines. Manila: Ateneo de ManilaUniversity Press.

Khan, Mushtag H., 2005, “Markets, States, and Democracy: Patron–Client Networks andthe Case for Democracy in Developing Countries,” Decentralization 12:5, 704–24.

King, Dwight Y., 2003, Half-Hearted Reform: Electoral Institutions and the Struggle forDemocracy in Indonesia, Westport, CT: Praeger.

Kingsbury, Damien and Harry Aveling, 2003, Autonomy and Disintegration in Indonesia,London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon.

Kleden, Ignas, 1990, “The Changing Political Leadership of Java” in Arief Budiman (ed.),State and Civil Society in Indonesia, Clayton: Monash Papers on SoutheastAsia No. 22,Monash Univeersity, 349–63.

Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung and ADEKSI (Asosiasi DPRD Kota Seluruh Indonesia), 2003,Pemilihan Langsung Kepala Daerah: Transformasi Menuju Demokrasi Lokal.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Bibliography 133

Landman, Todd, 2007, “Developing Democracy: Concepts, Measures, and EmpiricalRelationships,” Background paper prepared for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs ofSweden.

Lane, Max, 2009, “Gap between Elite and People Widens as Indonesian ElectionsApproach,” March 16, downloaded from http://maxlaneonline.com/on-indonesian-politics on January 20, 2010.

Lanti, Irman G., 2006, “Indonesia: Accomplishments amidst Challenges,” Southeast AsianAffairs, 91–110.

Lea, David and Colette Milward, 2001, eds., A Political Chronology of South-East Asiaand Oceania, London: Europa Publications Limited.

Legowo, Tommi A., 2003, “Pemilihan Langsung Kepala Daerah Kota/Kabupaten SebagaiWujud Demokrasi Lokal,” in Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung and ADEKSI (Asosiasi DPRDKota Seluruh Indonesia), Pemilihan Langsung Kepala Daerah: Transformasi MenujuDemokrasi Lokal, 54–63.

LGSP (Local Governance Support Program), 2007, “Good Governance Brief: LSGP AcehElection Support,” downloaded from http://pdf.usaid.gov/pdf_docs/PNADQ132.pdf onFebruary 16, 2010.

——, 2009, “Final Report,” published by USAID and prepared by RTI International,December 30, downloaded from http://indonesia.usaid.gov/en/programs/democratic_governance on February 16, 2010.

Liang, T.L.C. (2001) “Explaining Indonesia’s Relations with Singapore During the NewOrder Period: The Case of Regime Maintenance and Foreign Policy,” Singapore: Instituteof Defence and Strategic Studies, Working Paper No. 10, May.

Liddle, William R., 1974, Power, Participation, and the Political Parties in Indonesia,Cambridge, MA: Center for International Studies, Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Lijphart, Arend, 1994, Electoral Systems and Party Systems: A Study of Twenty-SevenDemocracies, 1945–1990, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lindberg, Staffan I., 2006, Democracy and Elections in Africa, Baltimore: Johns HopkinsUniversity Press.

LIPI (Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia), 2005, “Lembaga Mediasi Konflik PerluDibentuk,” June 17, downloaded from http://www.lipi.go.id on August 18, 2005.

Lipset, Seymour Martin, 1962, “Introduction” in Robert Michels, Political Parties: ASociological Study of the Oligarchical Tendencies of Modern Democracy, translated byEden and Cedar Paul, New York: The Free Press, 15–39.

LSI (Lembaga Survei Indonesia), 2009, “Evaluasi Publik terhadap Kinerja DPR,”September 17, downloaded from http://www.lsi.or.id/riset on October 21, 2010.

Lutz, Georg, 2007, “Electoral System Choice for Local Elections in Developing Countries.”Paper presented at the APSA 2007 meeting in Chicago and the ECPR General Conferencein Pisa.

Lutz, Georg and Wolf Linder, 2002, “Democracy and Participation: Solutions for ImprovingGovernance at the Local Level?” Paper for the World Bank Workshop on “Intergovern-mental Fiscal Relations in East Asia”, January 10–11, Bali.

Mackie, J.A.C., 1970, “The Commission of Four Report on Corruption,” Bulletin ofIndonesian Economic Studies 6:3, 87–101.

MacRae, Graeme and I. Nyoman Darma Putra, 2009, “Not Just an Elite Game: In Bali, it’s neither Policy, Parties nor Entrenched Elites, but Image-Savvy Politicians and anAll-Powerful Media that Are Dominating the New Electoral Landscape,” InsideIndonesia 97, July–September.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

134 Bibliography

McVey, Ruth T., 1978, “Introduction: Local Voices, Central Power” in Ruth T. McVey(ed.), Southeast Asian Transitions: Approaches through Social History, New Havenand London: Yale University Press, 1–31.

——, 2000, ed., Money and Power in Provincial Thailand, Singapore: Institute SoutheastAsian Studies.

Mahendra, Oka, 2005, Pilkada di Tengah Konflik Horizontal, Jakarta: Millennium Publisher.Malley, Michael S., 2003, “New Rules, Old Structures and the Limits of Democratic

Decentralisation” in Edward Aspinall and Greg Fealy (eds.), Local Power and Politicsin Indonesia: Decentralisation & Democratisation, Singapore: Institute of SoutheastAsian Studies, 102–16.

Manan, Abdul, Rini Kustini and Olivia Nuraini, 2006, “A Fight to the Bitter End in Depok,”Tempo 19:VI, January 10–16.

Manor, James, 1999, The Political Economy of Democratic Decentralization, WashingtonDC: The World Bank.

Marijan, Kacung, 2007, “Pilkada Langsung: Resiko Politik, Biaya Ekonomi, AkutanbilitasPolitik, dan Demokrasi Lokal.” Paper presented at the “In-House Discussion KomunikasiDialog Partai Politik” organized by Komunitas Indonesia untuk Demokrasi (KID),Jakarta, November 16.

Mashad, Dhurorudin and Mochammad Nurhasim, 2005, Konflik Antar Elite Politik LocalDalam Pemilihan Kepala Daerah, Yogyakarta: Pusat Penelitian Politik.

Mas’oed, Mohtar, S. Rizal Panggabean and Muhammad Najib Azca, 2001, “Social Resourcesfor Civility and Participation: The Case of Yogyakarta, Indonesia” in Robert W. Hefner(ed.), The Politics of Multiculturalism: Pluralism and Citizenship in Malaysia, Singapore,and Indonesia, Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 119–40.

Mboi, Aloysius Benedictus, 2009, “Pilkada Langsung: The First Step on the Long Road toa Dualistic Provincial and District Government” in Maribeth Erb and PriyambudiSulisyanto (eds.), Deepening Democracy in Indonesia? Direct Elections for LocalLeaders (Pilkada), Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 38–49.

Mietzner, Marcus, 2003, “Business as Usual? The Indonesian Armed Forces and LocalPolitics in the Post-Soeharto Era” in Edward Aspinall and Greg Fealy (eds.), Local Powerand Politics in Indonesia: Decentralization & Democratization, Singapore: Institute ofSoutheast Asian Studies, 245–58.

——, 2006, “Local Democracy: Old Elites Are Still in Power, but Direct Elections NowGive Voters a Choice,” Inside Indonesia 85, January–March.

——, 2007a, “Party Financing in Post-Soeharto Indonesia: Between State Subsidies andPolitical Corruption,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 29:2, 238–63.

——, 2007b, “Local Elections and Autonomy in Papua and Aceh: Mitigating or FuellingSecessionism?” Indonesia 84, October, 1–39.

Moser, Robert G., 1999, “Electoral System and the Number of Parties in Post-CommunistStates,” World Politics 51, April, 359–84.

NDI (National Democratic Institute for International Affairs), 2003, “Laws on the Structureand Composition of the MPR, DPR, DPD and DPRDS (Susduk Law) passed by the DPRon 9 July 2003: A Short Guide,” July 16.

O’Rourke, Kevin, 2002, Reformasi: The Struggle for Power in Post-Soeharto Indonesia,Sydney: Allen & Unwin.

Oxhorn, Philip, 2004, “Unraveling the Puzzle of Decentralization” in Philip Oxhorn, JosephS. Tulchin and Andrew D. Selee (eds.), Decentralization, Democratic Governance, andCivil Society in Comparative Perspective, Baltimore and London: The Johns HopkinsUniversity Press, 3–30.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Bibliography 135

Parsons, Talcott, 1959, “‘Voting’ and the Equilibrium of the American Political System”in Eugene Burdick and Arthur J. Brodbeck (ed.), American Voting Behavior, Glencoe,IL: The Free Press, 80–120.

ParWI, 2001, “Hasil Penelitian Kinerja di DIY, Magelang dan Boyolali Period August2000–August 2001,” unpublished.

Pratikno, 2009, “Political Parties in Pilkada: Some Problems for Democratic Consolidation”in Maribeth Erb and Priyambudi Sulisyanto (eds.), Deepening Democracy in Indonesia?Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada), Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies, 53–73.

Priyono, A.E., 2005, “Local Politics in Post-New Order Indonesia: Local Democratizationor Decentralization of Oligarchy?” Paper presented at the workshop on “DemocratisingDecentralization and Deconcentration: Implications for the Role of Civil Society,”Commune Council Project Support, Phnom Penh, April 25–7.

Rasyid, Muhammad Ryaas, 2003, “Regional Autonomy and Local Politics in Indonesia” inEdward Aspinall and Greg Fealy (eds.), Local Power and Politics in Indonesia:Decentralisation & Democratization, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies,63–71.

Reynolds, Andrew, 1999, Electoral Systems and Democratization in South Africa, Oxfordand New York: Oxford University Press.

Ricklefs, M.C., 2001, A History of Modern Indonesia since c. 1200 (Third Edition),Basingstoke: Palgrave.

Rinakit, Sukardi, 2005, “Indonesian Regional Elections in Praxis,” IDSS Commentaries65, Singapore: Institute of Defence and Strategic Studies, Nanyang TechnologicalUniversity.

Robinson, Geoffrey, 1995, The Dark Side of Paradise: Political Violence in Bali, Ithaca,NY: Cornell University Press.

Robison, Richard, 1986, Indonesia: the Rise of Capital, Sydney and London: Allen & Unwin.Robison, Richard and Vedi R. Hadiz, 2004, Reorganizing Power in Indonesia: The Politics

of Oligarchy in an Age of Markets, London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon.Ryter, Loren, 1998, “Pemuda Pancasila: The Last Loyalist Free Men of Suharto’s Order?”

Indonesia 66, 45–73.Sartori, Giovanni, 1987, The Theory of Democracy Revisited, Chatham, NJ: Chatham House

Publishers.Schiller, Jim, 2002, “Looking for Civil Society in the 1999 Election in Jepara,” Renai 2:1,

5–18.——, 2009, “Electing District Heads in Indonesia: Democratic Deepening or Elite

Entrenchment?” in Maribeth Erb and Priyambudi Sulisyanto (eds.), DeepeningDemocracy in Indonesia? Direct Elections for Local Leaders (Pilkada), Singapore:Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 147–73.

Schmitter, Philippe C., 2004, “The Ambiguous Virtues of Accountability,” Journal ofDemocracy 15:4, 47–60.

Schulte Nordholt, Henk, 2003, “Renegotiating Boundaries: Access, Agency and Identity inPost-Soeharto Indonesia,” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land-en Volkenkunde (BKI) 159:4,550–89.

——, 2004, “Decentralization in Indonesia: Less State, More Democracy?” in John Harriss,Kristian Stokke and Olle Törnquist (eds.), Politicising Democracy: The New LocalPolitics of Democratization, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 29–50

Schulte Nordholt, Henk, and Gerry van Klinken, 2007, eds., Renegotiating Boundaries:Local Politics in Post-Suharto Indonesia, Leiden: KITLV Press.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

136 Bibliography

Schumpeter, Joseph A., 1997, “An Elite Theory of Democracy: Selections from the Workof Joseph A. Shumpeter,” in Eva Etzioni-Halevy (ed.), Classes and Elites in Democracyand Democratization: A Collection of Readings, New York and London: GarlandPublishing, Inc., 78–85.

Selosoemardjan, 1962, Social Changes in Jogjakarta, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.Sidel, John T., 1999, Capital, Coercion, and Crime: Bossism in the Philippines. Stanford,

CA: Stanford University Press.——, 2004, “Bossism and Democracy in the Philippines, Thailand and Indonesia: Towards

an Alternative Framework for the Study of ‘Local Strongmen’,” in John Harriss, KristianStokke and Olle Törnquist (eds.), Politicising Democracy: The New Local Politics ofDemocratization, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 51–74.

Sijabat, Ridwan Max, 2005, “Review 2004—National: Regional Autonomy Makes LittleHeadway,” The Jakarta Post, August 17.

Sinaga, Kastorius, 2003, “Pemilihan Langsung Kepala Daerah Kota dan Kabupaten:Beberapa Catatan Awal,” in Konrad-Adenauer-Stiflung and ADEKSI (Asosiasi DPRDKota Seluruh Indonesia), Pemilihan Langsung Kepala Daerah: Transformasi MenujuDemokrasi Lokal, 48–53.

Skinner, G. William, 1959, “The Nature of Loyalties in Rural Indonesia” in G. WilliamSkinner (ed.), Local, Ethnic, and National Loyalties in Village Indonesia: A Symposium,New York: Yale University Cultural Report Series Southeast Asia Studies, distributedin cooperation with the Institute of Pacific Relations, 1–11.

Smith, B.C., 1998, “Local Government and the Transition to Democracy: A Review Article,”Public Administration and Development 18, 85–92.

Suharyo, Widjajanti I., 2002, “Indonesia’s Fiscal Decentralization: A PreliminaryAssessment of the First Year Experience.” UNSFIR Working Paper 02/07, Jakarta:United Nations Support Facility for Indonesian Recovery.

Sulaiman, M. Isa and Gerry van Klinken, 2007, “The Rise and Fall of Governor Puteh,” inHenk Schulte Nordholt and Gerry van Klinken (eds.), Renegotiating Boundaries: LocalPolitics in Post-Suharto Indonesia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 225–52.

Sunarlan, 2002, “Kekerasan Negara dan Konflik Elite (Studi Kasus di Banyuwnagi1998–1999),” Jurnal Demokrasi and HAM 2:1, 110–36.

——, 2004, “Rezim Patrimonial di Tingkat Lokal Pasca-Reformasi: Studi Kasus KabupatenBanyuwangi” in Ayu Sutarto and Setya Yuwana Ducikan (eds.), Pendekatan Kebudayaandalam Pembangunan Jawa Timur, Jember: Kelompok Peduli Budaya dan Wisata DaerahJawa Timur, 147–80.

Suryadinata, Leo, 2002, Elections and Politics in Indonesia, Singapore: ISEAS.Susanto, Budi, 1993, Peristiwa Yogya 1992: Siasat Politik Massa Rakyat Kota, Yogyakarta:

Kanisius.Suwarno, P.J., 1994, HB IX dan Sistem Birokrasi Pemerintahan Yogyakarta, 1942–1974:

Sebuah Tinjauan Historis, Yogyakarta: Kanisius.Swianiewicz, Pawel, 2001, ed., Public Perception of Local Governments. Budapest: Local

Government and Public Service Reform Initiative, Open Society Institute.Törnquist, Olle, 2009, “Indonesia’s Held Back Democracy and Beyond Introduction and

Executive Briefings: Advances, Setbacks and Options, 2003–2007” in W.P. Samadhiand N. Warouw (eds.), Building Democracy on the Sand, Yogyakarta: PCD Press andDemos, 1–18.

Trocki, Carl A., 1998, “Democracy and the State in Southeast Asia” in Carl A. Trocki (ed.),Gangsters, Democracy, and the State in Southeast Asia, New York: Southeast AsiaProgram Publications, Cornell University, 7–16.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Bibliography 137

Ufen, Andreas, 2006, “Political Parties in Post-Suharto Indonesia: Between Politik Aliranand ‘Philippinisation’.” Working Paper No. 37, Hamburg: German Institute of Globaland Area Studies.

——, 2008, “Roots of Democracy: Political Parties Have Stronger Social Roots in Indonesiathan Elsewhere in the Region,” Inside Indonesia 92, April–June.

UNDP (United National Development Programme), 2002, “A Global Analysis of UNDPSupport to Decentralisation and Local Governance Programmes 2001,” September.

Usman, Syaiku, 2002, “Regional Autonomy in Indonesia: Field Experiences and EmergingChallenges.” Paper prepared for the 7th PRSCO Summer Institute/The 4th IRSA Inter-national Conference: “Decentralization, Natural Resources, and Regional Developmentin the Pacific Rim,” June 20–1, Bali.

van Klinken, Gerry, 2009, “Patronage Democracy in Provincial Indonesia” in Olle Törnquist,Neil Webster, and Kristian Stokke (eds.), Rethinking Popular Representation, London:Palgrave Macmillan, 141–60.

Vel, J., 2005, “Pilkada in East Sumba: An Old Rivalry in a New Democratic Setting,”Indonesia 80, October, 81–107.

Webber, Douglas, 2006, “A Consolidated Patrimonial Democracy? Democratization in Post-Suharto Indonesia,” Democratization 13:3, 396–420.

Widodo, Amrih, 2003, “Changing the Cultural Landscape of Local Politics in Post-Authoritarian Indonesia: The View from Blora, Central Java” in Edward Aspinall andGreg Fealy (eds.), Local Power and Politics in Indonesia: Decentralization &Democratization, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 179–93.

Winters, J., 1996, Power in Motion: Capital Mobility and the Indonesian State, Ithaca, NY:Cornell University Press.

Ziegenhain, Patrick, 2008, The Indonesian Parliament and Democratization, Singapore:Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

138 Bibliography

Abdullah, Ismeth 55, 58, 59, 63, 105Abnur, Asman 67, 120n.7Ahmad, Syihabuddin 84Arisdiawan, Pebdi 99Asia Foundation 5Asyari, Syafi’i 92autonomy, regional 33, 114n.15 see also

regional autonomy laws

Badan Pengawas Pemilu 30Banyuwangi 60; elites 78, 89, 98–9; regent

election 2005 18, 89–100, 106Banyuwangi District Forum of Village

Heads 94Basyid, Abdullah 68, 72Batam 52–3, 118n.6; free trade zone see

free trade zone; mayoral election 200618, 57, 62–74, 106; municipal assembly66, 122n.29 see also BIDA

Batam Chamber of Commerce 75Batam Industrial Development Authority

see BIDABawaslu 30BIDA 51, 52, 63–4, 75, 106, 120n.5,

121n.19, 122n.29big kings 75, 105, 122n.24, 128n.2Bintan 52Bjornlund et al. 4black campaigning 70bonded zone plus 53, 64bribery 25, 44 see also corruption;

vote–sellingbugetary matters, and decentralization 24business people, as elites 14

campaigns: Batam mayoral election 200669–71; and elections 104

Carothers, Thomas 11Carter Center 5central boards 69centralization 23Centre for Political Study-Soegeng Sarjadi

Syndicate (CPS-SSS) 60Ciganjur Declaration 116n.15Ciganjur Four Meeting 39City Society Forum 94Civil Registry Office 71coalition-building 59Coalition of Non-Parliamentary Parties 92coalitions: Banyuwangi 92–3; Batam 66,

67–9; Depok 80–1; Riau Archipelago122n.20

community leaders, as elites 14compensation money 67 see also money

politicsConcern for the National Functional Party

81Constitution of 1945 23, 26, 29corruption 8–9, 110n.14; Banyuwangi 92,

95; bribery 25, 44; and decentralization110n.13; Depok 80, 82, 88; and elites14; political parties 28, 29; vote-selling25–6

Corruption Eradication Commission 82Crescent Star Party 81

Dahlan, Ahmad 67–8, 70, 72, 74, 75, 106decentralization: administrative 1, 113n.1;

and bugetary matters 24; andcorruption 110n.13; andelections/democracy 3–10, 20–2, 102;and elites 13, 100, 105, 112n.32;Indonesian path 22–7; and local politics6–9; political 30–1, 113n.1

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Index

In this index notes are indicated by n.

democracy 1, 2; and decentralization 3–10, 20–2, 102; and elections 3–10,76, 109n.3; local/national 111n.18;multi-party 103–4; normative theories of 7; oligarchic 128n.1; andpatrimonial politics 100–1

Democracy Society Forum 95democratic reforms 1, 20–2democratization 62, 109n.2Democrat Party see PDDepok 79; mayoral election 2005 18, 78,

79–89, 106Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah

(DPRD) 24, 26Dewan Pimpinan Cabang (DPC) 35Dewan Pimpinan Daerah (DPD) 35Dewan Pimpinan Pusat (DPP) 35Dharma, Nazief Soesila 67, 68–9Dharmawan, Endang 43–5, 117n.26,

117n.30direct electoral system 26–7, 127n.55direct local elections 9–10, 11, 12–13, 19,

32, 108; and democratization 62; andelites 59–61, 74, 76, 105; andgovernance 102; and political parties76, 103; rules and practices 27–30 seealso local government heads; directelection of

district governments: and authorityrelations 25

economy, Batam 64education, political 12elections: Banyuwangi election 2005 18,

89–100, 106; Batam mayoral election2006 18, 57, 62–74, 106; anddemocracy/decentralization 1, 3–10, 6,109n.3; Depok mayoral election 200518, 78, 79–89, 106; and elites 100;Indonesia 5–6; Jakarta’s gubernational2007 82, 88; local 2; Riau Archipelagogubernatorial election 2005 17, 51–2,53–9 see also direct local elections;local government heads

Election Supervisory Board 30Election Supervisory Committee,

Banyuwangi 94electoral process, and political parties

65elites 2, 12; Banyuwangi 78, 89, 98–9;

and decentralization 13, 100, 105,112n.32; Depok 88; and direct localelections 59–61, 74, 76, 105; local13–15, 61; and New Order regime

112n.30; old/new 104–7; andpatrimonial power 77–8, 100, 102;political/economic 4, 10, 62, 74, 75

entrepreneurs, political 106

Fokus 94Forum 70 70Forum Bersama Masyarakat Depok 85Forum Kepala Desa Kabupaten

Banyuwangi 94Forum Masyarakat Demokrasi 95Forum Masyarakat Kota 94Foundation of Indonesian Legal Aid

Institute 47FPDI-P 43, 44, 48fraski 34, 35, 41, 42, 45free trade zone (FTZ) 53, 64, 75, 118n.7,

119n.4, 120n.5

Gabungan Partai Politik Non Parlemen 92gangsterism, political 8–9, 110n.15 see

also corruptionGeneral Election Commission 27Golkar 54, 55, 67, 80–1, 90–1, 120n.9,

122n.20governance 110n.9; and decentralization 1,

21; and direct local elections 102; LawNo. 25/1999 24

government, authority relations 25government officials 13–14government reform, and decentralization

4–5government regulations: PP No. 151/2000

46; PP No. 17/2005 29; PP No. 6/200526–7, 29, 68

Guided Democracy 78

Habibie, B.J. 23, 118n.4Hadi, Samsul 91, 93, 96, 126n.41, 127n.47Hamengku Buwono IX, Sultan 38,

116n.12Hamengku Buwono X, Sultan 38–9, 44

indirect electoral system 34–6, 127n.55Indonesian Democracy Party of Struggle

see PDI–PIndonesian Justice and Unity Party 81Indonesian Survey Circle 60Institute for Legal Protection 47intimidation, political 8, 10 see also

corruption; violenceIsmail, Nurmahmudi 82–3, 84, 86, 87, 88,

107, 123n.10Ismeth, Aida 55, 105

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

140 Index

Jakarta, gubernatorial election 2007 82, 88

Java, West/East 16Jembrana 96Joint Forum for the Depok Community 85Juwana, Nana 86, 125n.26

Kadir, Abdul 95Kadir, Nyat 55, 58, 59Kalla, Jusuf 85Kamal, Badrul 81–2, 83, 84, 86, 87–8Kepri see Riau ArchipelagoKepulauan Riau see Riau ArchipelagoKomisi Pemberantasan Korupsi 82Komisi Pemilihan Umum see KPUKomisi Pemilihan Umum Daerah see

KPUDKomite Perjuangan untuk Demokrasi 94KPS 86KPU 28, 29, 110n.7, 114n.22, 115n.24KPUD 27, 28–9, 30, 57, 58; Banyuwangi

91, 93, 94, 95, 127n.57; Batam 71, 72;Depok 83, 84–5, 86

land management 24Laskar Hulubalang Putih 70Law No. 1/1957 22, 23Law No. 5/1974 23Law No. 12/2008 27, 28Law No. 22/1999 22, 23, 24, 27Law No. 22/2007 27, 28Law No. 25/1999 22, 23, 24Law No. 32/2004 22, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30,

57, 65, 68, 85, 88Law No. 33/2004 26leader-centric parties 11leaders, new 77Legowo, T.A. 61Lembaga Pembela Hukum (LPH) 47Lestari, Ratna Ani 91–2, 95, 96, 97–8,

99–100, 106, 125n.34, 127n.57,128n.63

Lindberg, Staffan I. 4Lingkaran Survei Indonesia (LSI) 60local assemblies: and money politics 49;

and New Order regime 113n.5; andregional autonomy laws 24, 25

local elections 2local government heads, direct election of

9–10, 11, 19, 26–7, 31, 74local legislative assemblies 23local officials, appointment of 24 see

also local government heads, directelection of

local politics, and decentralization 6–9Lotulung, Paulus E. 86

Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (MPR)26, 85

Malay people 63Malaysia 52, 63Manan, Bagir 86Marhaenism Indonesian National Party 68Mascot 94Mboi, Aloysius Benedictus 26media, and campaigns 56, 70–1money politics 8, 9, 25, 28, 29, 61, 67, 74,

110n.14; Banyuwangi 98; and centralboards 69; Depok 107; and politicalparties 103;reactivation/decentralization of 49–50;Yogyakarta 47, 48

MPR 26, 85Muhaimin faction 91, 120n.10, 125n.32Mulkan, Triyandi 47multi-party politics 10, 33municipal governments, and authority

relations 25

Nasir, Arifin 67Nastion, Adnan Buyung 86National Awakening Party see PKBNational General Election Commission see

KPUNational Mandate Party see PANnetworks: informal 13; patrimonial 15,

77–8, 106New Indonesia Alliance Party 69New Order regime 1, 13, 23, 36, 52, 64,

106; and elites 112n.30; and localassemblies 113n.5

Noeris, Yusuf 92, 95, 96, 97, 98, 127n.57Nurdjaman, Progo 87

officials, government 13–14oligarchic democracy 128n.1oligarchic political parties 103Osing people 89otonomi daerah 33

PAN 46, 54, 67, 81, 120n.9Pancasila Democracy 78, 123n.3Panwas Banyuwangi 94paralyzed political parties 12, 104Partai Bintang Reformasi 81Partai Bulan Bintang 81Partai Buruh Sosial Demokrat 68–9Partai Damai Sejahtera 68, 81

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Index 141

Partai Karya Peduli Bangsa 81Partai Keadilan dan Persatuan Indonesia

81Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa 37Partai Nasional Indonesia Marhaenisme

68Partai Pelopor 68Partai Perhimpunan Indonesia Baru 69Partai Persatuan Demokrasi Kebangsaan

68party politics: indirect electoral system

34–6; weakened 74–6party-tickets 29, 61Pasaribu, Richard 68, 72patrimonial politics 77–8, 88, 93–5, 99,

106, 107–8, 112n.26; and democracy100–1

patronage system 18, 53, 64PBB 81PBR 81PBSD 68–9PD 67; Depok 82PDI-P 37–8, 43, 45, 47–8, 54, 60, 67, 68,

69; Banyuwangi 90–1, 91, 99; Batam121n.12; Depok 81

PDS 68, 81Pengurus Anak Cabang 35People’s Consultative Assembly 26, 85Philippines 8pilkada 27, 28, 29, 30, 114n.16Pioneers’ Party 68PK 123n.10PKB 54, 68, 81, 90–1, 96; ulama faction

120n.10, 125n.32, 126n.40PKPB 81PKPI 81PKS 54, 55, 60, 67, 80, 123n.10; Batam

118n.9, 120n.9, 121n.15; Depok 82, 85;and Golkar 122n.20

political entrepreneurs 106political parties: conflict within 36; and

electoral process 65; and elites 13–15;influence of 28, 49; and local electoralprocesses 60; organizational structure34–5; paralyzed 12, 104; andrepresentation 10–13; weakening of 15,62, 74, 76, 90, 111n.20

politicians, post-Soeharto 37politics: elite 78, 88; local 2; patrimonial

77–8, 88, 93–5, 107–8, 112n.26power struggles, local 74–6PPDK 68PPIB 69PPP 68, 81

preman 110n.16premanisme 8–9presidential decree: No. 6 1959 23Prosperous Justice Party see PKSProsperous Peace Party 68, 81provinces: and authority relations 25public test 46–9

Qodari, Muhammad 60

Rasyid, Ryaas 49re-centralization 27reformasi movement 16, 36, 39, 48Reform Star Party 81regional autonomy 33, 114n.15regional autonomy laws 26; Law No.

22/1999 22, 23, 24, 27; Law No.25/1999 22, 23, 24; Law No. 32/200422, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 57, 65, 68, 85,88; problems created by 24 RegionalRepresentative Assembly 26

representation 1; and political parties10–13

Respationo, Soerya 55, 58, 59Riau Archipelago 16, 52–3, 63;

gubernatorial election 2005 17, 51–2,53–9 see also Batam

Salim Group 53Sani, Muhammad 55, 58, 59, 105Saptarika, Ria 67–8, 72, 74Setiawan, Danny 82, 87, 88Sianturi, Sahat 68–9Sinaga, Kastorius 61Singapore 52, 63, 118n.2, 118n.3Socialist Democratic Labor Party 68–9Soe’oed, Masduki 92Soeharto, President 38, 52, 53, 78;

patronage system 64Soekarno, President 23, 123n.2Soewandi (Suwandi), Soesanto 92, 95Soraya, Nada Faza 75sosok 55, 73, 121n.18Struggle Committee for Democracy 94Subiyantoro, Andrie 44Sukartono, Eko 91, 92, 95, 125n.31Sulaiman, Ahars 67Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX 38,

116n.12Sultan Hamengku Buwono X 38–9, 44Sutowo, Ibnu 52–3Syaroni, Ali 92

Thailand 8

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

142 Index

ulama faction 68, 91, 120n.10, 125n.32,126n.40

undemocratic practices 10, 33–4, 102,110n.11 see also corruption

UNDP 7United Democratic Nationhood Party 68United Development Party 67, 68United Nations Development Programme

(UNDP) 7upward mobility, and electoral democracy

106

violence, Banyuwangi 89 see alsointimidation

voters: list of 29–30; registration of 57, 71,119n.13

vote-selling 25–6 see also bribery;corruption

Wahid, Abdurrahman 24, 93, 120n.10Wahid, Hidayat Nur 85, 121n.15

Wahid, Muhamad 117n.30Wahyudi, Achmad 91, 92, 95, 96, 98, 99,

126n.40, 128n.62West Java High Court 83, 85, 86, 88,

124n.19, 124n.26, 125n.26White Hulubalang Paramilitary Group 70Widyatmoko, Yusuf 92Wijaya, Qurtifa 80Wirasaputra, Yuyun 83, 84, 88, 107World Bank 6–7, 9

Yayasan Lembaga Bantuan HukumIndonesia (YLBHI) 47

Yogyakarta 15, 17; mayoral election 200117, 39–49; new/old politics 36–9;undemocratic political practices 33–4

Young Caucus 99Yulianto, Cinde Laras 44, 47, 116n.21,

117n.34

Zulbahri 67, 72

12345678901112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536373839404142434445

Index 143