The controversy over Aceh’s flag and symbol between the Aceh administration and the central administration in Jakarta lingers on, despite weeks of “cooling down”, and is now at a crucial phase in which, if disagreement remains, the President is expected to decide the issue by special instruction.
Most quintessentially, the question is whether the proposed Aceh flag represents the idea and spirit of separatism as Jakarta argues, based on Government Regulation 77/2007, or not, as the Aceh administration vehemently insists, basing its argument on the 2005 Helsinki peace accord and Provincial Bylaw (Qanun) No. 3/2013.
A compromise seems impossible for to adopt the Aceh proposal, Jakarta would have to give up its regulation and thereby create a precedent for other provinces; worse, it may fuel anger among nationalist politicians, including some powerful Army officers in Jakarta.
Likewise, any change to the proposed flag as universally agreed in Aceh would hurt not only the local administration and political parties (both the Aceh chapters of national political parties and local Aceh parties) but the wider community as well.
Given the Helsinki memorandum of understanding (MoU) in 2005 and Aceh’s sub-laws on the MoU (UUPA 2006), Aceh has the legitimate right to choose its own flag and symbol precisely because the peace accord itself contradicts any separatist aspiration.
Interestingly, this argument has now been supported by Indonesia’s highest judicial entity, the Constitutional Court.
The problem, however, can only be resolved either by adopting the proposed flag or modifying it; and any adaptation will affect its specific design — symbol, form and color.
However, Aceh offers narrative discourses that tell us how peace may be achieved and nurtured without offending the authorities or dignities involved.
Shortly after the Helsinki accord was signed seven years ago, my good friend Ramli A. Dally, an Acehnese versed in local folklore, told me that the Helsinki deal reminded him of the story of Teuku Abeuek, which he believed served as a mirror to reflect the commitments Jakarta and GAM (Free Aceh Movement) rebels made in Helsinki.
Teuku Abeuek, the leader (uleebalang) of Pameue, West Aceh, was a recalcitrant man who had frustrated the Dutch rulers in the 1920s. As attempts to subdue him failed, the Dutch finally sent Lieutenant JHJ Brendgen — a capable officer who not only mastered Acehnese, but learned the art of sword fighting, of which Abeuek was a renowned
master.
They agreed to meet and, as Brendgen put it, to “play the dance of the sword” on one condition: the loser had to die. The Dutchman soon found out that Abeuek was superior. As his sword fell, he asked the victorious Abeuek to kill him, but the latter refused.
They then celebrated peace by dining together. “Why didn’t you kill me?” asked Brendgen. “Because you refused to take up your sword,” said Abeuek. Brendgen was astonished by Abeuek’s fair play, being unwilling to kill an unarmed man.
Abeuek was not a rebel but he often helped the Muslim rebels, despite the Dutch “peace” (Korte Verklaring) imposed to end the war. Neither Brendgen nor Abeuek was subsequently sanctioned by higher authorities and Aceh remained calm thereafter.
The event is not in all respects parallel to the Helsinki deal. But the moral of the legend, Ramli suggested, was valuable: It was not the issue leading to the confrontation that was most significant, but rather the way in which Abeuek and Brendgen resolved it. Just as what happened in Helsinki; that was the key to ending the conflict. Only then could the warring parties restore one another’s authority and dignity.
Abeuek’s apparent “subversive” stance was seen as minor aspect. The discourse thus suggests that once peace is achieved, mutual trust becomes the sublime transition from peace into stability.
That’s precisely what is now lacking; the flag issue has become a test of trust for both Jakarta and Aceh.
If Jakarta rejects the proposed flag, it would amount to putting its own regulation above the internationally acknowledged Helsinki peace accord for which its architect, Finland’s former president, Martti Ahtisaari, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2008.
Above all, to do so would contradict the very consensus among the Acehnese populace in supporting the Helsinki MoU. Conversely, to adopt the proposed flag would remain faithful to the MoU, which may result in political capital that could bind Aceh and Jakarta.
On the other hand, to reject the flag, which is a hugely emotive symbol for Aceh, Jakarta would risk its valuable political potential for the 2014 election in that it may invest pain, so to speak, into Aceh’s future.
It is true that the Aceh flag as proposed by the Aceh Party (PA), the political party formed by former GAM rebels, is identical to the former GAM flag, which also bears a similarity to the flag belonging to the PA. Hence, to reject the Aceh flag, Jakarta will unnecessarily lose its leverage vis-a-vis both the PA and Aceh.
In contrast, by allowing the flag, Jakarta would help the PA preempt any future element that disagrees with the MoU. In this way, Jakarta would eradicate any association of the flag with separatism once and for all.
Either way, the ruling PA will ultimately benefit. As one keen observer, Uzair, has pointed out, if the flag is adopted, the PA will strengthen its hegemony over Aceh; if not, it will emphasize the growing gap between Jakarta and Aceh and fuel Aceh’s distrust toward the central government, which would only benefit the PA stance.
In turn, the PA — as an International Crisis Group (ICG) report recently suggested — could use any gain to compensate its controversial alliance with the Great Indonesia Movement (Gerindra) Party, the political party led by the man blamed for many atrocities, Lt. Gen. (ret.) Prabowo Subianto.
Trust and distrust thus work in different ways. But, as the Teuku Abeuek legend teaches us, trust is essential to swing the pendulum toward a common prospect. This is all the more urgent since the MoU and its ideal of “self-government” have not been fully implemented.
While Jakarta would prefer to adapt rather than adopt the proposed flag, the issue may have become a political commodity for trade-offs in order to raise Aceh politicians’ own prospects in the 2014 election.
