The decision by the Australian government to turn asylum seeker boats back into Indonesia’s
territorial waters and its ports was always a high-risk game. It is no surprise
that it has ended in a serious confrontation with Indonesia, particularly
following the admissions that Australian naval vessels have made incursions into Indonesian territorial
waters
Indonesia retaliated with some heavy
rhetoric from foreign minister Marty Natalegawa and other officials, and
dispatched its own naval vessels to the areas where incursions have taken
place. Indonesia’s media have been full of these events, together with the
recent spying
scandals. Frantic telephone calls and requests for meetings by Australian
ministers have drawn cold responses from their Indonesian counterparts.
This may be a simple case of huffing and puffing. But coming
hard on the heels of the acrimonious exchanges over spying by Australia’s
intelligence agencies, it would seem that the relationship between the two
countries is in for a rough ride.
Why, then, despite recently
confirming that the Indonesia relationship is Australia’s most important,
did the Australian government press ahead with its “stop the boats” policy in
this form?
At one level, this has been driven by domestic politics, the
result of pressures to fulfil populist electoral bargains.
At the same time, we must assume that the government hopes
the “shock” of the new policy will put a quick stop to the flow of asylum
seekers across the region and into Indonesia itself, and that this ongoing
problem will just go away.
There may have been some thought that by ramping up the
stakes, Indonesia would be forced to take a more serious approach to
co-operation on this issue. However, there is not much evidence of this having
occurred so far.
More important are signs of an increasing impatience with
Indonesia. These were initially evident in the uncompromising
responses of Australian prime minister Tony Abbott and others in government
– and in the conservative wings of the Australian media – to Indonesia’s
demands for an apology over the spying incidents.
This willingness to take a firm position may simply indicate
a judgement that there is not much Indonesia can do about a tougher policy in
any case, and that this can be insulated from other elements of the
relationship.
Floating below the surface, though, are some indications
that a new mood is emerging. This is one that is more circumspect about
Indonesia and its capacity – or willingness – to give much in return.
In other words, Australian leaders might be asking the
question: is Indonesia worth the trouble?
Such a view has a long history and is not confined to
conservative politicians. It has been most recently and forcefully put forth by
former Labor leader Mark Latham, who argued
last December that:
The best approach for Australia is to keep Indonesia at
arm’s length, neutralising difficulties but not expecting goodwill or
co-operation.
Attempts at co-operation, including in the control of people
smuggling, will – in Latham’s view – always be undermined by a lack of will on
the part of the Indonesians and the pervasive corruption of its officials. He
refers to the flow of asylum seekers through Indonesia to Australia as an act
of “political bastardry”.
There is no doubt that Indonesia has responded with
indifference to many of Australia’s bilateral and regional concerns. For
example, Australia’s attempts to revive its live cattle exports in the face of
widespread evidence of animal cruelty were undermined both by nationalist
efforts to restrict imports and by the reality that no-one seemed to have the
will or the authority to regulate the industry in Indonesia.
Predatory fishing and environmental practices and uncertain
and unpredictable legal and regulatory frameworks for investors have also long
been points of irritation in the relationship.
But does this mean that Australia should retreat and keep
Indonesia at arm’s length, expecting neither co-operation nor goodwill?
Such a retreat is not a serious prospect. In fact, it is the
very weaknesses and uncertainty cited by Latham as reason to disengage that
drive Australia’s relationship with Indonesia and make it so intense.
The Indonesia policies of previous Australian governments
have always been motivated less by the prospect of lucrative opportunities than
by the fear that Indonesia could become an incubator for political and social
instability and terrorism, and for various forms of illegal trade.
The
asylum seeker issue is not of the same importance in Indonesia as it is in
Australia. AAP/Jon Faulkner
These factors are only going to get more intense in coming
decades as Australia faces a vastly expanded set of problems. As they become
increasingly globalised, flows of refugees and labour, the spread of
criminality, problems of over-fishing, climate change, environmental
degradation, breakdowns in biosecurity and public health epidemics will
intensify.
Australia will not be able to deal with these if Indonesia
is part of the problem.
Yet the very attempt to mobilise Indonesia within these
policy agendas also provides much of the basis for the ongoing irritation
between the two countries. Indonesia does not always share the anxieties and
priorities of Australian policymakers.
In the people smuggling case, for example, the flow of a few
hundred thousand asylum seekers through a nation of almost a quarter of a
billion and into its disorganised cities and societies is not
the same issue of public concern as it is in
Australia. Nor have populist politicians tried to mobilise this issue. So,
it is unreasonable to expect Indonesia to react with enthusiasm to our
priorities.
And the frustrations of Australia’s policymakers are also
stoked by the fact that government in Indonesia often possesses a limited
capacity to enforce policy even where it exists.
It is doubtful, for example, that the Indonesian government
has the authority to mobilise the complex networks of police, military and
officials behind the effort to stop people smuggling. This is especially so
given some officials were deeply
implicated in the trade and were its beneficiaries.
Finally, in their attempts to strengthen the capacity of the
Indonesian government – including that of the judiciary and regulatory agencies
dealing with issues of corruption, criminality and various forms of illegal
trade – reformers must engage with an architecture of power in which the very
forces that are inimical to these reforms are prominent.
Powerful politico-business oligarchies, embedded in systems
of political rents and predatory politics, have little interest (to say the
least) in tackling corruption and creating honest courts or providing
environmental regulation. For them, Indonesia works.
Can the cycle be broken? It is true that progressive forces
within the bureaucracy and in the middle classes exist and have made progress.
The problem, for both Australia as well as Indonesia, is that their grip on the
commanding heights of Indonesia’s political and economic life remains tenuous.
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