Indonesia: Implikasi SKB (Surat Keputusan Bersama) tentang Ahmadiyah
Indonesia: Implikasi SKB (Surat Keputusan Bersama) tentang Ahmadiyah
Table of Contents
  1. Overview
Indonesia's Police: The Problem of Deadly Force
Indonesia's Police: The Problem of Deadly Force
Briefing 78 / Asia

Indonesia: Implikasi SKB (Surat Keputusan Bersama) tentang Ahmadiyah

I. Ikhtisar

Pada tanggal 9 Juni 2008, pemerintah Indonesia mengumumkan sebuah Surat Keputusan Bersama (SKB) Tiga Menteri yang “membekukan” kegiatan aliran Ahmadiyah, yaitu sebuah aliran Islam yang anggotanya mengakui Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, pendiri Ahmadiyah, sebagai seorang Nabi. Selama berbulan-bulan berbagai kelompok Islam garis keras melancarkan tekanan kepada pemerintah agar melarang aliran ini, sementara kelompok-kelompok HAM dan banyak tokoh-tokoh masyarakat berargumentasi bahwa pembatasan apapun terhadap kegiatan Ahmadiyah oleh pemerintah melanggar Undang-Undang Dasar yang menjamin kebebasan beragama. SKB tersebut memperlihatkan bagaimana elemen radikal, yang tidak banyak mendapat dukungan politik di Indonesia, telah mampu membangun kontak di dalam pemerintah dan menggunakan tehnik standar advokasi masyarakat sipil untuk mempengaruhi kebijakan pemerintah.

Beberapa menteri utama mengatakan kepada publik bahwa SKB ini membolehkan anggota Ahmadiyah untuk menjalankan agama mereka, asalkan mereka tidak mencoba untuk menyebarkan agamanya kepada orang lain. Namun kompromi ini tidak memuaskan siapapun. Kelompok-kelompok garis keras menginginkan Ahmadiyah dibubarkan atau dipaksa untuk menyatakan bahwa mereka bukan Muslim. Buat mereka, SKB ini tidak cukup, kata-katanya tidak tegas dan tidak punya kekuatan hukum. Juga tidak jelas bagaimana SKB ini akan diterapkan. Mereka berniat melakukan pengawasan sendiri terhadap Jemaat Ahmadiyah dan menghentikan kegiatan apapun yang tidak sesuai dengan penafsiran ajaran Islam yang mereka yakini. Buat banyak warga Indonesia yang lain, keluarnya SKB tersebut sama saja dengan tunduk kepada tuntutan kelompok radikal, yang mana hal itu tidak semestinya dan juga berbahaya, karena dengan begitu tuntutan semacam ini hampir pasti akan menjadi lebih kuat.

Pertanyaan yang belum bisa dijawab secara memuaskan oleh siapapun adalah mengenai pemilihan wak tunya. Anggota Jemaat Ahmadiyah sudah lama tinggal dengan cukup damai di Indonesia sejak tahun 1925 atau 1935, tergantung siapa penulis sejarahnya. Meskipun ada fatwa mengenai aliran ini dari Majelis Ulama Indonesia (MUI) pada 1980, yang menyatakan bahwa aliran ini adalah aliran berbahaya, dan pada tahun 2005, MUI merekomendasikan untuk melarang aliran ini, tapi tidak ada tindakan apapun dari pemerintah sampai bulan Juni 2008. Jadi mengapa sekarang?

Paling sedikit ada empat faktor yang mempengaruhi:

  • Upaya lobby-lobby secara sistematis yang dilakukan selama lima tahun belakangan terhadap pemerintah, terutama Departemen Agama, untuk mengambil tindakan terhadap Ahmadiyah;
     
  • Pencarian isu-isu oleh kelompok-kelompok garis keras, seperti Hizb ut-Tahrir (di Indonesia penulisannya yaitu Hizbut Tahrir), yang bisa memberi dukungan kepada mereka dan membantu memperluas keanggotaan;
     
  • Dukungan yang tidak dipikirkan secara masak-masak yang diberikan oleh pemerintah SBY kepada institusi-institusi seperti MUI dan Bakorpakem, yaitu sebuah lembaga yang dibentuk dibawah Kejaksaan Agung pada saat kejayaan Orde Baru Soeharto untuk mengawasi agama-agama dan aliran-aliran kepercayaan; dan
     
  • Manuver-manuver politik yang terkait dengan pemilu dan pilkada.

Beberapa minggu menjelang dikeluarkannya SKB tersebut, ada dua faktor lain yang ikut berperan. Pertama yaitu kekhawatiran pemerintah akan terjadi kekerasan. Pada tanggal 1 Juni 2008, sekelompok milisi Muslim yang didominasi oleh preman menyerang sebuah kelompok yang menentang SKB, yang mengakibatkan 12 orang luka-luka dan dibawa kerumah sakit dan 10 anggota milisi dihadapkan ke pengadilan. Beberapa pejabat pemerintah khawatir kalau keputusan mengenai Jemaat Ahmadiyah ditunda lagi, maka hal ini bisa menyulut eskalasi aksi kekerasan. Kekhawatiran yang lain yaitu bahwa pemerintah akan kehilangan muka kalau lagi-lagi gagal merealisasikan, setelah beberapa kali berjanji untuk mengeluarkan keputusan.

Hasilnya adalah sebuah keputusan yang merupakan kemunduran bagi reputasi Indonesia sebagai negara yang mampu menghadapi radikalisme Islam dengan berani, dan juga bagi reputasi Presiden Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (SBY) sebagai seorang pemimpin yang kuat. Akibatnya hal ini memperlihatkan sebuah pemerintahan yang tidak memiliki visi yang jelas mengenai prinsip-prinsip apa yang mereka perjuangkan tetapi yang terlihat adalah pemerintahan yang mencari kompromi diantara siapa yang bicara paling nyaring.

Jakarta/Brussels, 7 Juli 2008

I. Overview

On 9 June 2008, the Indonesian government announced a joint ministerial decree “freezing” activities of the Ahmadiyah sect, an offshoot of Islam whose members venerate the founder, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad. For months hardline Islamic groups had been ratcheting up the pressure for a full ban, while civil rights groups and many public figures argued that any state-imposed restrictions violated the constitutional guarantee of freedom of religion. The decree demonstrates how radical elements, which lack strong political support in Indonesia, have been able to develop contacts in the bureaucracy and use classic civil society advocacy techniques to influence government policy.

Some senior ministers said publicly that the decree allows Ahmadiyah members to practice their faith, as long as they do not try to disseminate it to anyone else, but this compromise pleases no one. The hardliners want Ahmadiyah either dissolved or forced to declare itself non-Muslim. For them the decree does not go far enough, is worded ambiguously and does not have the force of law. It is also not clear how it will be enforced. They intend to monitor Ahmadiyah themselves and stop any activity not in keeping with their own interpretation of Islamic orthodoxy. For many other Indonesians, the decree is an unnecessary and dangerous capitulation to radical demands that are now bound to increase.

The question no one has answered satisfactorily is about timing. Ahmadiyah members have been living more or less peacefully in Indonesia since 1925 or 1935, depending on whose history one reads. Despite fatwas (religious opinions) on the sect from the Indonesia Ulama Council (Majelis Ulama Indonesia, MUI) in 1980, warning that it was dangerous, and in 2005, recommending its banning, there was no action by the government until June 2008. Why now?

At least four factors are responsible:

  • the systematic lobbying over the last five years of the bureaucracy, particularly the religious affairs ministry, for action against Ahmadiyah; 
     
  • the search by hardline groups, including Hizb ut-Tahrir (Hizbut Tahrir is the Indonesian form of the international organisation’s name), for issues that would gain them sympathy and help expand membership;
     
  • the unthinking support given by the Yudhoyono administration to institutions such as the MUI and Bakorpakem, a body set up under the attorney general’s office at the height of Soeharto’s New Order to monitor beliefs and sects; and
     
  • political manoeuvring related to national and local elections.

In the week leading up to the issuance of the decree, two other factors came into play. One was the govern­ment’s fear of violence. On 1 June 2008 a thug-dominated Muslim militia attacked a group of the
decree’s opponents, sending twelve of them to the hospital and ten militia members to court. Officials were worried that any further delays in ruling on the Ahmadiyah issue could fuel more violence. Another concern was that the government would lose face if, after promising repeatedly to issue the decree, it failed yet again to deliver.

The result was a decree which is a setback for both Indonesia’s image as a country that can stand up to Islamic radicalism and President Yudhoyono’s image as a strong leader. The outcome suggests a government that has no clear vision of basic principles itself but rather seeks compromise between those who speak loudest.

Jakarta/Brussels, 7 July 2008

Op-Ed / Asia

Indonesia's Police: The Problem of Deadly Force

My four year-old daughter recently came home from her Jakarta kindergarten with a story about a visit to the school from the head of our local police station. 'If there is a robber and he's running away, the policeman will pull out his gun, fire in the air, and if he doesn't stop then he will shoot him in the leg', she recounted breathlessly.

I have spent 25 years working in and around conflict zones, including more than a decade in Indonesia. My reaction might not have been that of the average parent. 'That', I replied, 'is a violation of Perkap Number 8.' Needless to say, my reference to Police Regulation Number 8 of 2009 regarding Implementation of Human Rights Principles and Standards in the Discharge of Duties of the Indonesian National Police was lost on her. She thought the visit was great.

I had recalled Perkap 8 when re-reading the Hansard of the recent sparring between Australian Foreign Minister Senator Bob Carr and Victoria Greens Senator Richard Di Natale over the police shooting of protesters in Papua. But it is not just in Papua where questionable use of deadly force by the Indonesian National Police (INP) takes place. It happens across the country. And this was what Perkap 8 was put in place to prevent.

Article 47 of Perkap 8 says that 'the use of firearms shall be allowed only if strictly necessary to preserve human life' and 'firearms may only be used by officers: a. when facing extraordinary circumstances; b. for self defense against threat of death and/or serious injury; c. for the defense of others against threat of death and/or serious injury.' This is Indonesian law, taken from the UN Code of Conduct for Law Enforcement Officials, and this is what should be used to assess police actions, wherever in the country they occur.

The fatal shooting on 14 June 2012 of Mako Tabuni, deputy head of the National Committee of West Papua (KNPB), in Jayapura, capital of Papua province, made Senate Estimates in 2012. The shooting of three protesters in Sorong on 30 April 2013, West Papua province, was mentioned in the testy 5 June 2013 exchanges between Senators Carr and Di Natale. You can watch it above.

In the first incident, detectives shot a suspect in the leg as he was running away and then left him to die in a hospital allegedly without making any effort to treat his wounds. In the second, police claim they were threatened by armed KNPB activists. Without more information it is difficult to judge if their response was disproportionate. Police always say they are shooting in self-defense, but it has become such a common excuse that it has started to lose its plausibility.

Cases outside Papua do not garner much attention in Australia, but lethal shootings happen all the time. On 1 September 2011 seven villagers were killed during a rowdy protest against police brutality in the Central Sulawesi district of Buol, a place so obscure even most Indonesians cannot find it on a map.

On 7 March 2013, soldiers burned down a police station in Baturaja, South Sumatra, after their off-duty comrade, First Private Heru Oktavianus, was shot dead by a police officer while speeding away from a traffic violation.

On 8 May 2013 police in Java killed six suspected terrorists in a series of raids. The police usually claim the suspects were armed and resisted arrest. But it is not always true, and many could have almost certainly been captured alive.

Ordinary criminals are shot with distressing frequency, as my daughter's visitor suggests, without any outcry at home or abroad.

Perkap 8 was signed by the then police chief Sutanto, a real reformer. It has not gotten very far. One foreign police officer working on a bilateral community policing program in a large metropolitan command told me he had once seen a copy of the Perkap on the chief's desk but suspected it had been disseminated no further.

Even when progressive regulations or orders are issued and disseminated, they are not always followed. In October 2012, the police chief of Papua, Tito Karnavian, former head of the anti-terrorism unit Detachment 88 (Densus 88), announced that he had banned police from using live ammunition when handling demonstrations in the region. This was progress and it was implemented for some demos, but the deaths in the Sorong case suggest live ammunition was used.

As Article 46 of Perkap 8 says, 'all officers must be trained in the use of power, equipment and firearms that can be used in applying force' and 'must be trained in non-violent techniques and methods.' Training almost 400,000 officers across 33 provinces is a logistical challenge, though it might be a good idea to start with elite units such as Densus 88 or personnel in the Papua provinces.

The new national head of the INP, about to be appointed, might breathe new life into two reforms already in place: implementation of Perkap 8 and Chief Sutanto's other landmark regulation on community policing, Perkap 7. The INP is a very hierarchical organisation that does follow firm orders from above. While its size makes complex reform difficult, its hierarchical nature makes implementing existing regulations with firm orders easier.

The first duty of the incoming INP chief, who reports directly to the president, will be to secure the 2014 elections. Making sure those deployed to safeguard this 'festival of democracy' are properly trained and equipped to use non-lethal force will be an important first step. After a new head of state is elected, he or she should consider issuing a directive that would see Perkap 8 properly implemented. The use of less deadly force could even be politically popular in some parts.

Outside help may also be needed, and this is where Australia comes in. A few decades back, the Victorian state police had a problem of using too much deadly force and created Project Beacon to try to rectify it. They changed the way they thought about the problem, overhauled training, and gave officers on the beat new tools, like pepper spray. Foreign assistance along these lines could help the INP improve performance and increase accountability. Crisis Group has long argued that the INP needs better orders, training, and equipment for the use of non-deadly force.

If the INP is to be more the service it aspires to be rather than the force it is, it needs to shed its military mindset, hold serious post-operation reviews after each fatal incident, and decrease reliance on shooting first and asking questions later, regardless of whether officers are following locally accepted standard procedure. When the time comes and the INP is ready to carry forward the reform of Perkap 8, Australia should be there to help.

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