Friday, April 8, 2016

Sour Anniversary Looms for Indonesian Environmental Disaster


Mud expected to flow for another three decades from Surabaya gas well blowout

On May 28, it will be 10 years since something went disastrously wrong 1800 meters down inside Banjar Panji I, an exploratory gas well being drilled near the Surabaya town of Sidoarjo, about 900 km. southeast of Jakarta in east Java.

When drillers attempted to shake loose a stalled drill bit, or it broke or disappeared, a torrent of stinking, toxic mud and hydrogen sulfide gas boiled to the surface, spraying gas 10 meters into the air. Ten years later, mud and gas have continued to pour of the ground in what has to rank among the world’s biggest manmade environmental disasters.

The story of PT Lapindo Brantas, the company that was drilling the well, is a tale told too often in Indonesia, of professional and managerial incompetence, undue haste to exploit natural resources at any cost, the passivity of the courts and most important the timidity of the Indonesian government to attempt to bring the perpetrators of the disaster to book.

A decade into the disaster, the Indonesian government under President Joko Widodo has agreed to use state funds to help PT Minarak Lapindo Jaya, the unit of a holding group belonging to business tycoon Aburizal Bakrie, to pay Rp781 billion (US$11.72 billion at current exchange rates) in compensation to mudflow victims at the end of 2015.

The deal is sealed under a presidential regulation stipulating that Lapindo will pay compensation to the government within four years with an interest rate of 4.8 percent per year – free of tax.

The scale of the disaster is breathtaking, with 40,000 to 60,000 people displaced from 12 villages and forced to take refuge after their homes and land were buried by the mudflow. Some 30,000 to 60,000 cubic meters of mud bubble to the surface per day, down from 180,000 cu m in 2011 according to disaster management authorities– but still the equivalent of 12-24 Olympic-sized swimming pools. 

Damages at last count have topped US$2.7 billion.  Some 4,000 hectares of fish and shrimp ponds have been destroyed. Mud leaked into surrounding rice fields and water from the basins has already escaped into surrounding  rice fields, destroying the income of many rice farmers. In addition, the impact of off-loading the water extracted from the mudflow into the waters in East Java is a further cause of economic and environmental devastation, according to a scholarly paper on the disaster by authors Nunung Rahayu, Nadia Nareswari and Suprandi Putri Nurina of Gadjah Mada University.

Various efforts to stem the flow have failed – including a network of dams, channeling it into the sea; and an ambitious plan to plug the crater with giant concrete balls.  Geologists expect it to continue for at least 20 to 30 years.  In the meantime, the dikes built to contain the flow have repeatedly been inundated by resultant flooding, resulting in disruptions of local highways and villages. Geologists say further breakouts are still a possibility.

Lapindo Brantas was controlled by Bakrie, who was Coordinating Minister for Public Welfare at the time of the disaster and head of Bakrie Group. The family, through its investments, held a controlling stake in PT. Energi Mega Persada, Lapindo Brantas’s parent company According to Forbes magazine, Bakrie Group then was also Indonesia’s wealthiest man, with an empire worth US$5.4 billion. Bakrie-controlled companies have interests spanning Indonesia’s economy in mining, oil and gas, palm oil, property, telecommunications and finance. Since 2009, he has also been president of Golkar, long one of Indonesia’s dominant political parties.

Although Bakrie officials have sought to blame a 6.2 magnitude earthquake that occurred in Yogyakarta 250 km. away and two days earlier, the mudflow has been a personal disaster for Bakrie, both financially and for his reputation. International geologists from the United States, Britain and Australia, writing in the journal Nature Geosciences, have concluded that an analysis of underground gas levels measured at the time of the outburst points the finger to gas exploration — not an earthquake — as the trigger, a research team from the United States, Britain and Australia wrote in the journal Nature Geosciences. An investigation found that steel encasing linings had not been used, which would have prevented the disaster. Others charged that a safety cap that should have been deployed in the event of such an accident was nowhere to be seen.

Lapindo Brantas has continued to insist on its website that an investigation found no evidence to link its activities to the eruption. A police investigation sought in 2008 to identify the trigger and to determine whether the drillers were liable for compensating 10,000 families, amounting to Rp700 billion (US$10.5 billion at current exchange rates) but the probe was dropped without result.

In January, Lapindo Brantas announced plans to redrill the gas well as hundreds of police officers and security guards guarded a well against angry villagers five kilometers from the center of the mudflow in Porong. A spokesman told reporters the drilling activity at Tanggulangin 1 would be for gas rather than for oil, as had been the case with Banjar Panji-1.

He said the company was currently conducting drill site preparation (DSP), while exploration activities were expected to be conducted by the beginning of March.

The drilling, he said, had initially been scheduled for early December 2015 but had been postponed due to “social problems.”

 “We understand local people’s concerns due to the trauma from the Sidoarjo mudflow,” the spokesman told the Jakarta Post. “We don’t want to repeat the same incident and we are open to all parties wanting to participate in supervising [the drilling].” He insisted the drilling this time won’t cause problems.

Posted on April 8, 2016 By Dewi Kurniawati Economics/Business, Headline, Indonesia

 

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Jakarta left all at sea by island clash with China - What the South China Sea reveals about Indonesia’s foreign policy



In mid-March, a Chinese Coast Guard rammed one of its own fishing boats to pry it free from Indonesian authorities who had seized it for illegal fishing off the Natuna Islands – the northernmost undisputed Indonesian island group.

The incident has put a spotlight on Indonesia’s foreign policy under President Joko Widodo or Jokowi. Analysts have carefully examined the incident in great detail (see here and here).

In the incident’s wake, the foreign minister, defense minister, and fisheries minister responded in different, and somewhat overlapping, ways. The fisheries minister has become the public face for Indonesia’s visibly angry response, while the military, according to press reports, continues preparations to upgrade its facilities in the Natunas.

Several diplomats wrote op-eds slamming Beijing for its disregard of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and the rules-based order Jakarta has always pushed for in the management of the South China Sea. Jokowi’s chief foreign policy adviser, currently ambassador to London, noted the importance of illegal, unreported, unregulated (IUU) fishing as the common challenge for Indonesia and China; rather than sovereignty as the Natunas are undisputedly Indonesian in the first place.

Yet, after delivering an official diplomatic protest to the Chinese Embassy, the foreign minister insisted that the incident had nothing to do with the South China Sea dispute. Jokowi also instructed Luhut Pandjaitan, the coordinating minister for political, legal, and security affairs, to take necessary steps but reminded him that China “remains Indonesia’s friend.”

This seemingly incoherent response reveals some of the broader trends in Indonesia’s foreign policy in recent years.

First, despite the growing literature on how the post-1998 democratic transition and consolidation has overhauled foreign policy-making, foreign policy remains strongly, perhaps even idiosyncratically, a presidential affair.

This is partially a legacy of the centralised system entrenched under Suharto’s New Order, and partially because successive post-Suharto presidents never paid serious and sustained attention to developing a professional, well-funded foreign ministry and a well-oiled foreign policy-making system – particularly one that can spans different parts of the government to harness the country’s different tools of regional and global engagement.

For almost two decades after 1998, only the organisational reforms instituted under foreign minister Hassan Wirajuda are noteworthy. But even those reforms were not well-funded, nor were they sustainable given some of the entrenched bureaucratic challenges and the ebbs and flow of presidential support. It is not surprising therefore that the personal characteristics of different post-Suharto presidents shaped and shoved Indonesia’s foreign policy.

What this means is that Jokowi’s personal aloofness on foreign affairs, his seemingly narrow domestic economic agenda, and his concerns with domestic politics, have prevented the office of the president to marshal the nation’s strategic community to forcefully, coherently, and consistently respond to day-to-day challenges, including in the South China Sea.

Furthermore, the absence of a dedicated foreign affairs staff inside the presidential palace (or an executive National Security Council, for that matter), the departure of key foreign policy advisers, and the increasingly lack of chemistry and trust between the president and foreign minister, Retno Marsudi, have further exacerbated this problem.

Second, Jakarta’s over-reliance on the “non-claimant honest broker” position on the South China Sea suggests the `path dependence’ of institutionalist thinking within the foreign ministry. Two strands of institutionalist thought are particularly salient: the belief in the virtues of international law along with a rules-based order underpinned by UNCLOS 1982, and the utility of multilateralism and ASEAN.

The first strand goes back to the 1956 Djuanda Declaration and has been sustained and strengthened by a series of influential diplomats and foreign ministers trained in international law for the past several decades. In the early 2000s, there were reports of a growing network of influential diplomats under the tutelage of foreign minister Wirajuda that came through the Indonesian representative office in Geneva (all steeped in international law).

The second strand goes back to the founding of ASEAN and the New Order’s efforts to ensure domestic stability and regime maintenance by pushing for regional stability in Southeast Asia. Indonesia’s leadership of the grouping and its position as the country’s foreign policy “cornerstone”– and the fact that many of Jakarta’s achievements were done within a multilateral framework — has sustained this institutionalist thinking.

According to a former member of Jokowi’s transition team, these institutionalist strands of thought often crowd out other “scenario-based realist” thinking on foreign policy, which is often critical in dealing with developments in the South China Sea. The institutionalist thinking has also led to pushbacks from the broader  strategic community (including defense and fisheries ministries) in Jakarta concerned with China’s militarisation of the region and its constant encroachment of Indonesia’s maritime territories.

The logic of institutions is powerful but it is also glacial-paced. Meanwhile, as we can see, given the current escalations and rapidly changing “facts on the ground”, so to speak, in the South China Sea, Jakarta may need to realise it is being strategically blinded by its own lens and hindered by maritime governance inter-bureaucratic infighting

Third, given the previous two trends, Indonesia’s foreign policy-making requires better and improved inter-agency coordination and collaboration and larger funding and resources.

When it comes to the South China Sea, the Coordinating Ministry for Political, Legal, and Political Affairs should get the foreign ministry to talk more regularly to other agencies, particularly the Navy, Maritime Security Agency, and the IUU fishing task force of the fisheries ministry. The foreign ministry should also invest more in sending senior officials to attend regular inter-agency meetings and expand the number of senior diplomats sent to inter-agency courses, such as those run by the National Resilience Institute.

Given the prevalent view that Indonesia’s best and brightest tend to join the foreign ministry, policymakers should not let it become an isolated actor within the broader national security system and establishment. Additionally, House of Representatives’ Commission for defence, foreign affairs and information – charged with discussing issues related to its portfolio and formulating plenary bills for consideration by parliament –needs to be more involved in foreign policy-making and increase the budgetary resources for the foreign ministry.

The current budget only stands at roughly $7 billion, with roughly 80-85 per cent devoted to routine expenditures and personnel salaries. This lack of budgetary support is not unique to Jokowi of course. According to budgetary documents compiled by CSIS Jakarta, the foreign ministry’s annual budget from 1999 to 2014 leveled at around $4 billion on average, or roughly 0.69 per cent of the national budget (or about 0.0006 per cent of GDP).

We should bear in mind these broader trends and limitations in Indonesia’s foreign policy-making when expecting Jakarta to play a more proactive role in balancing the ongoing US-China strategic rivalry, and the peaceful management of the South China Sea disputes.

Evan A Laksmana is a researcher at the Centre for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), Jakarta, and a political science doctoral candidate at Syracuse University’s Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs.

 

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Indonesia ‘Hobbits’ may have died out earlier than first thought


Indonesia ‘Hobbits’ may have died out earlier than first thought

IT WAS a spectacular discovery: Fossil remains in an Indonesian cave revealed a recent relative of modern humans that stood less than a metre tall. The creatures were quickly nicknamed “hobbits.” With evidence that they had survived to just 12,000 years ago, the hobbits appeared to have been the last of our companions on the human branch of the evolutionary tree to go extinct.

Now, a decade after they made headlines, they’ve lost that distinction. New investigations indicate they evidently disappeared much earlier — about 50,000 years ago, before Neanderthals did, for example.

The new date raises speculation about whether hobbits were doomed by the arrival of modern humans on their island. But it doesn’t change much about their scientific significance, said Matt Tocheri of Lakehead University in Thunder Bay, Ontario.

Liang Bua, a limestone cave on the Indonesian island of Flores, pictured when fresh excavations began in 2012. Source: Smithsonian Digitization Program Office / APSource:AP

He and others wrote the new paper with three of the researchers who’d first reported the discovery in 2004. The new paper was released overnight by the journal Nature.

The hobbits are formally known as Homo floresiensis, reflecting their home on the Indonesian island of Flores. With small, chimp-sized brains, the hobbits had skulls that resembled Homo erectus, which lived in Africa and Asia. But they also had long arms and short legs that hearkened back to the much older evolutionary forerunners best known for the skeleton dubbed Lucy.

It’s not clear where they fit in the human family tree. They may have descended from taller ancestors who shrank because of their isolation on the island. Some scientists have argued they were diseased modern humans rather than a separate species, but experts called that a minority view and several said the new dates make it less likely.

Hobbits evidently made the stone tools that were found along with skeletal remains in the Liang Bua cave. The new analysis says the remains are 100,000 to 60,000 years old, while the artefacts range in age from about 190,000 to 50,000 years.

Researchers revised the original age estimates after new excavations revealed more about the geology of the cave. Sediments were sampled to date the artefacts and bones.

“I think it’s a terrific paper,” said Bernard Wood of George Washington University, who had no role in the research. “They have done everything you can possibly ask.” So did the arrival of modern humans spell the end for the hobbits, as is proposed for the demise of the Neanderthals in Europe and Asia about 40,000 years ago?

There’s no evidence that modern humans occupied Flores until long after the hobbits were gone. But they are known to have lived not far away, in Australia, some 50,000 years ago — right about the time the hobbits evidently disappeared.

“It is certainly suggestive,” said anthropologist Karen Baab of Middle Western University in Glendale, Arizona, who studies the hobbits but didn’t participate in the new work.

Richard Roberts of the University of Wollongong in Australia, a study author, said in an email it is “certainly a possibility to be considered, but solid evidence is needed in order to demonstrate it. One thing we can be certain of, it will definitely be a major focus of further research.”

Monday, April 4, 2016

The Lie at the Center of the Singapore Legend


The meta-narrative of the founding of modern Singapore is that as a young lawyer and activist Lee Kuan Yew beguiled the Communists into backing the People’s Action Party and once in power turned on them, jailing them after riots in 1955 revealed their true colors, into the process making Singapore a crucial bulwark in Asia against the Communist tide.

With Lee Kuan Yew now dead for a year, the veneration of his life has started anew in Singapore. But that legend of the founding of the city state is a lie, according to Poh Soo Kai in a bitter and angry book. In fact, Poh wrote, the people who were arrested were mainly Kuan Yew’s enemies. Poh, a physician, was jailed cumulatively for 17 years, ultimately leaving for Canada in 1989 as a political self- exile before eventually returning to the island republic.

Like his fellow rebel Chia Thye Poh, who served 23 years in prison and nine more under house arrest, he writes, he could have been freed long earlier if he had apologized and confessed. Now Poh, 84 years old, has told his story in a deeply detailed and troublesome 406-page history researched out of declassified British colonial archives and a wealth of other records that he says lay bare the true story.

It is a book that in places is hard going and runs in different directions, mixing in stories of the life of his grandfather, his family’s fight to escape World War II and other accounts with his confrontation with the newly borning independent state of Singapore. But in sum, the tactics described, including what Poh calls the government’s use of a subterfuge to arrest his wife and, using good-cop bad-cop tactics for hours of questioning to turn her against him, presaged too often the tactics of modern Singapore. It is a sad story of the use of a state that would stop at nothing to keep its critics muzzled.

With Kuan Yew gone, the government arguably remains less willing to use any tactic necessary to rid the country of its perceived enemies, as Kuan Yew did. Nonetheless, today it is making sure no dissent rises up on the internet, with relatively timid bloggers going to jail and being driven out of business.

 

In the 1980s, those tactics included Operation Spectrum, which broke a nonexistent “Marxist conspiracy” of young activists working on social issues. In doing so the government sought to discredit a priest by getting the Straits Times to print salacious articles describing the time the priest was seen entering the home of a woman in the middle of the night and the time he was seen leaving her home.

It included boxcar headlines that a married US diplomat who had met with the activists had a “love child” in the Philippines despite the fact that the diplomat had since adopted the child, which was living with his new family.  It included the disgrace of the late Singapore president Devan Nair as a drunk after he broke with Kuan Yew over the rights of dissidents.

In describing the turning of his wife, Poh writes that “I have held back on a matter that affected me the most, but which I find is almost impossible for me to talk about. It is too painful. But to keep avoiding the issue would be to let Lee Kuan Yew get away with the most heinous crime perpetrated on me, and for me to be forever the silenced victim.”

The couple eventually divorced. 

“Grace and I were both too badly hurt for our marriage to survive,” he wrote. “Our divorce was finalized in 1992, after the requisite period of three years of separation. I cannot pretend that it no longer hurts. It still does very much. But I do not feel humiliated. I refuse to be destroyed. It is the pimp who should have been ashamed and made accountable. And so should those who sat at his feet, and who continue to repeat his lies, defending the use of the Internal Security Act.” 

“I am now ready to take the final step, to defy Lee’s cold and smug calculation that I would never be able to speak about the depth of his vindictiveness towards anyone who crossed him,” Poh writes. In this book, he does so in detail.

Poh originally attracted the attention of authorities by his position as a founding member of the University Socialist Club at the University of Malaya and later as a founding member of the on-campus publication Fajar (Dawn). First arrested in 1954 for sedition along with seven other Fajar journalists, he would be released, then arrested again. He was released in 1973 and on his release called Lee Kuan Yew a “political pimp.” Kuan Yew described him as defiant. He was arrested again and finally released in 1982. I am still defiant,” he said in the preface. “I draw a strict line between what is just and what isn’t.”

A physician and the grandson of Singapore’s richest tycoon Tan Kah Kee, Poh and 132 other people were victims of the infamous Operation Coldstore, as the operation was known, the code name for a covert security operation that got underway in February of 1963. They were detained without trial under the Preservation of Public Security Ordinance (PPSO).

In official accounts, the operation was a security operation “aimed at crippling the Communist open front organization,” which threatened Singapore’s internal security.

 In Poh’s account, Lee was hardly the political innocent he painted himself to be, nor were the communists PAP infiltrators. In fact, he writes, Lee himself accepted several people who were former members of the Communist Party of Malaya (CPM). Lee needed the support of the left-wing. He also put feelers out to Chinese students who had links with the underground to ask for Chinese speaking trade unionists who knew the ground well. Lim Chin Siong, a member of the Anti-British League, thus joined the PAP.

 Altogether, it is a depressing and deeply disturbing account showing the other side of clearly Asia’s most accomplished statesman, a man who on one front could establish the richest society in Asia, absolutely incorruptible in the conventional sense, a country where permits are granted, contracts are let in the absolute certainty that honesty will prevail. On the other Lee Kuan Yew was a tyrant and a man utterly without morals in working to derail those he could not otherwise control. A year after his death, sadly he leaves a society built in his image on both counts.

I am getting on in years,” Poh ends this harsh book. “Many of my friends from the Fajar and the May 13 generation have passed on. I feel I owe them all a duty to write about our common struggles; I feel I owe the younger generation a duty to leave a record of our country’s history. I hope we will live our lives in the service of our people.”

By John Berthelsen Book Review, Headline, Singapore

 

 

China and Indonesia’s strategic options




China and Indonesia’s strategic options



Unlike earlier incidents, this one involved a Chinese coastguard vessel almost intruding into Indonesia’s 12-nautical mile territorial sea off Bunguran (Natuna Besar) Island. China should not underestimate the significance of this threat to Indonesian national integrity.

China does not dispute Indonesia’s claims to this maritime area but it asserts that Chinese fishermen have traditional fishing rights there. This is consistent with the Chinese interpretation of maritime law that would allow ‘traditional fishing’ in Indonesia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). This thinking appears to lie at the heart of China’s famous nine-dash line that surrounds a large part of the South China Sea.

Indonesia and China have no territorial dispute in the South China Sea. Indonesia has, in the past, played an active and principled part in trying to define a framework within which disputes among the various claimants to territories there — China, Vietnam, the Philippines, Taiwan, Malaysia and Brunei — might be mitigated or resolved.

Indonesia’s President, Joko Widodo (Jokowi), has declared a new maritime priority for the Indonesian state. The largest archipelagic state in the world, Indonesia encompasses huge marine resources. The country has a total land area of 1.9 million square kilometres. An additional 3.2 million square kilometres of ocean lie within its borders. Indonesia’s maritime priorities are an overdue and legitimate focus of national policy. Its seaways have too long been a barrier to, rather than a facilitator of, national integration. Its role as a maritime Asian nation needs to be strengthened as an enhancement to regional stability. Its neighbours, including Australia, Singapore, Malaysia as well as China and Japan have a constructive interest in this development.

This is a moment of strategic sensitivity in Sino–Indonesian relations, as the Jokowi administration struggles to implement its Global Maritime Fulcrum (Poros Maritim Dunia, PMD) concept. It tests whether Indonesia has the capacity to develop a maritime strategy that will achieve the PMD’s policy goals, as Ristian Atriandi Supriyanto argues.

The success of PMD depends on the development of a coherent maritime strategy with Indonesia’s archipelagic geography as the foundation of its strategic thinking. The strategy should be based on Indonesia’s foreign and maritime policy principles, the interplay between Jokowi’s PMD concept and Indonesia’s maritime strategic thinking and a realistic view of what the goals should be.

In this week’s lead essay, Sourabh Gupta explains how the squabbles around Natuna have escalated over different conceptions of the application of international maritime law.

‘For Jakarta’, writes Gupta, ‘the trawler was fishing illegally (and engaging in prohibited fishing practices) in an exclusive Indonesian maritime zone. Because Indonesia enjoys undisputed sovereign rights and jurisdiction over these waters, the vessel and its fishermen must submit to the force of domestic law’.

‘For Beijing, the vessel was “carrying out normal operations” (although Beijing has not explicitly vouched for its fishing practices) within “traditional Chinese fishing grounds”. Up to the perimeter enclosed by the nine-dash line in the semi-enclosed South China Sea, traditional Chinese fishermen individually enjoy non-exclusive “historic fishing rights”. Because Beijing reserves a vested interest and jurisdiction — to ensure the preservation of this right within the nine-dash line, Jakarta should release the detained fishermen without delay’.

The legal basis for both countries’ actions is UNCLOS. But each side presents a different interpretation of the Convention’s application and reach. As Gupta points out, the Philippines v. China arbitration winding towards a climax in The Hague should provide some answers to these impossible-to-reconcile Indonesian and Chinese fisheries-related interpretations.

The dominant view among scholars and practitioners sides with Jakarta, Gupta says. But three major points in China’s favour have arisen from jurisprudential innovations before and since Manila filed its case.

‘First,’ writes Gupta, ‘international sea law recognises history as a basis for entitlements in semi-enclosed seas — although the scope of jurisdiction associated with this local custom-based right in foreign EEZs is unclear.’ Additionally, states are able to claim supplementary rights to UNCLOS, such as those enjoyed by Indonesian traditional fishermen, through bilateral agreement or local custom.

These supplementary ‘historic fishing rights’, regulated by international law outside UNCLOS, operate equally across each of the maritime zones created by the Convention — including, presumably, in the Natuna EEZ.

This is no time for Chinese megaphone diplomacy over an incidental matter at a point of Indonesian diplomatic vulnerability. That could unwittingly change the geopolitical environment in Southeast Asia in a way that is counterproductive to constructive relations between China and, not only Indonesia, but the whole Southeast Asian region.

The EAF Editorial Group is comprised of Peter Drysdale, Shiro Armstrong, Ben Ascione, Ryan Manuel and Jillian Mowbray-Tsutsumi and is located in the Crawford School of Public Policy in the ANU College of Asia and the Pacific.

 
 

Alice in Juntaland and autocracy in Thailand

                           Will Thailand re-emerge from the rabbit hole? Photo: YouTube

Readers may have heard about a woman arrested and charged with sedition for holding a red bowl with Thaksin’s message on it for 2016 Songkran Day. It gets worse in Thailand by the minute as the country is now under full military dictatorship and a chilling sign of things to come.

On 16 October 2008 I wrote a piece for New Mandala entitled “Whither Thai Democracy” saying that Thailand was becoming like Burma under its military rule, especially given the scenario of an imminent demise of the current monarch. I was lambasted by readers who thought I was exaggerating.

I also quoted Alice, the heroine of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass, which made perfect sense (to me) at the time:

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?

Now to get the record straight, the Thai junta and its bosses behind the National Council for Peace and Order (Kor Sor Chor) will no longer need to use the nice term “attitude adjustment” for political miscreants. It now has Article 44, a gazetted Order 13/2559 (29 March 2016 [2559], vol.133 Special Section).

A brief summary of the eleven points follows:

  • Military officers above the rank of major will be able to suppress and arrest anyone at any time for any act (they) deem a threat to the (military) state; while all those military personnel below the rank of major can assist in this policing and suppression.
  • No evidence is necessary for arrests and no arrest warrant is henceforth necessary.
  • Any individual must report to the military and give any documents and information as requested. No justification is necessary.
  • Military officers can arrest and detain anyone on the spot and can be involved in all aspects of the investigative and policing process.
  • Military have the right to search any place at any time and detain anyone for seven days at any place other than a police station or a civil detention centre.
  • Military officers can perform full policing and also the duties of civil administrators and they will not come under administrative law.
  • All officers are legally protected in their duties under the emergency administrative act (2548 [2005]).

Readers can check this at the Ratchakitcha website (if accessible), or for a summary (in Thai) see Thai-enews. A new English version has also appeared (at the time of writing) in Khao Sod.

Orwell was right about a dystopic world, such as we see in today’s Thailand (no wonder his 1984 was banned).  The implications will be to create a further entrenched, divided and unjust autocratic system in Thailand, discrediting even further in the eyes of the masses what remains of the civil judiciary and even-handed policing.

It also opens the door to (further) wide scale corruption by the military, as democracy slides further into the recesses of a creeping new fascism.

Dr James L Taylor is an Adjunct Associate Professor in Anthropology & Development Studies at the University of Adelaide.

 

The Most Dangerous Place on Earth - A Nuclear Armageddon in the Making in South Asia



Undoubtedly, for nearly two decades, the most dangerous place on Earth has been the Indian-Pakistani border in Kashmir. It’s possible that a small spark from artillery and rocket exchanges across that border might -- given the known military doctrines of the two nuclear-armed neighbors -- lead inexorably to an all-out nuclear conflagration.  In that case the result would be catastrophic. Besides causing the deaths of millions of Indians and Pakistanis, such a war might bring on “nuclear winter” on a planetary scale, leading to levels of suffering and death that would be beyond our comprehension.

Alarmingly, the nuclear competition between India and Pakistan has now entered a spine-chilling phase. That danger stems from Islamabad’s decision to deploy low-yield tactical nuclear arms at its forward operating military bases along its entire frontier with India to deter possible aggression by tank-led invading forces. Most ominously, the decision to fire such a nuclear-armed missile with a range of 35 to 60 miles is to rest with local commanders. This is a perilous departure from the universal practice of investing such authority in the highest official of the nation. Such a situation has no parallel in the Washington-Moscow nuclear arms race of the Cold War era.

When it comes to Pakistan’s strategic nuclear weapons, their parts are stored in different locations to be assembled only upon an order from the country’s leader. By contrast, tactical nukes are pre-assembled at a nuclear facility and shipped to a forward base for instant use. In addition to the perils inherent in this policy, such weapons would be vulnerable to misuse by a rogue base commander or theft by one of the many militant groups in the country.

In the nuclear standoff between the two neighbors, the stakes are constantly rising as Aizaz Chaudhry, the highest bureaucrat in Pakistan’s foreign ministry, recently made clear. The deployment of tactical nukes, he explained, was meant to act as a form of “deterrence,” given India’s “Cold Start” military doctrine -- a reputed contingency plan aimed at punishing Pakistan in a major way for any unacceptable provocations like a mass-casualty terrorist strike against India.

New Delhi refuses to acknowledge the existence of Cold Start. Its denials are hollow. As early as 2004, it was discussing this doctrine, which involved the formation of eight division-size Integrated Battle Groups (IBGs).  These were to consist of infantry, artillery, armor, and air support, and each would be able to operate independently on the battlefield. In the case of major terrorist attacks by any Pakistan-based group, these IBGs would evidently respond by rapidly penetrating Pakistani territory at unexpected points along the border and advancing no more than 30 miles inland, disrupting military command and control networks while endeavoring to stay away from locations likely to trigger nuclear retaliation. In other words, India has long been planning to respond to major terror attacks with a swift and devastating conventional military action that would inflict only limited damage and so -- in a best-case scenario -- deny Pakistan justification for a nuclear response.

Islamabad, in turn, has been planning ways to deter the Indians from implementing a Cold-Start-style blitzkrieg on their territory. After much internal debate, its top officials opted for tactical nukes. In 2011, the Pakistanis tested one successfully. Since then, according to Rajesh Rajagopalan, the New Delhi-based co-author of Nuclear South Asia: Keywords and Concepts, Pakistan seems to have been assembling four to five of these annually.

All of this has been happening in the context of populations that view each other unfavorably. A typical survey in this period by the Pew Research Center found that 72% of Pakistanis had an unfavorable view of India, with 57% considering it as a serious threat, while on the other side 59% of Indians saw Pakistan in an unfavorable light.

This is the background against which Indian leaders have said that a tactical nuclear attack on their forces, even on Pakistani territory, would be treated as a full-scale nuclear attack on India, and that they reserved the right to respond accordingly. Since India does not have tactical nukes, it could only retaliate with far more devastating strategic nuclear arms, possibly targeting Pakistani cities.

According to a 2002 estimate by the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), a worst-case scenario in an Indo-Pakistani nuclear war could result in eight to 12 million fatalities initially, followed by many millions later from radiation poisoning.  More recent studies have shown that up to a billion people worldwide might be put in danger of famine and starvation by the smoke and soot thrown into the troposphere in a major nuclear exchange in South Asia. The resulting “nuclear winter” and ensuing crop loss would functionally add up to a slowly developing global nuclear holocaust.

Last November, to reduce the chances of such a catastrophic exchange happening, senior Obama administration officials met in Washington with Pakistan’s army chief, General Raheel Sharif, the final arbiter of that country’s national security policies, and urged him to stop the production of tactical nuclear arms. In return, they offered a pledge to end Islamabad’s pariah status in the nuclear field by supporting its entry into the 48-member Nuclear Suppliers Group to which India already belongs. Although no formal communiqué was issued after Sharif’s trip, it became widely known that he had rejected the offer.

This failure was implicit in the testimony that DIA Director Lieutenant General Vincent Stewart gave to the Armed Services Committee this February. “Pakistan’s nuclear weapons continue to grow,” he said. “We are concerned that this growth, as well as the evolving doctrine associated with tactical [nuclear] weapons, increases the risk of an incident or accident.”

Strategic Nuclear Warheads

Since that DIA estimate of human fatalities in a South Asian nuclear war, the strategic nuclear arsenals of India and Pakistan have continued to grow. In January 2016, according to a U.S. congressional report, Pakistan’s arsenal probably consisted of 110 to 130 nuclear warheads. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, India has 90 to 110 of these. (China, the other regional actor, has approximately 260 warheads.)

As the 1990s ended, with both India and Pakistan testing their new weaponry, their governments made public their nuclear doctrines. The National Security Advisory Board on Indian Nuclear Doctrine, for example, stated in August 1999 that “India will not be the first to initiate a nuclear strike, but will respond with punitive retaliation should deterrence fail.” India’s foreign minister explained at the time that the “minimum credible deterrence” mentioned in the doctrine was a question of “adequacy,” not numbers of warheads. In subsequent years, however, that yardstick of “minimum credible deterrence” has been regularly recalibrated as India’s policymakers went on to commit themselves to upgrade the country’s nuclear arms program with a new generation of more powerful hydrogen bombs designed to be city-busters.

In Pakistan in February 2000, President General Pervez Musharraf, who was also the army chief, established the Strategic Plan Division in the National Command Authority, appointing Lieutenant General Khalid Kidwai as its director general. In October 2001, Kidwai offered an outline of the country’s updated nuclear doctrine in relation to its far more militarily and economically powerful neighbor, saying, “It is well known that Pakistan does not have a ‘no-first-use policy.’” He then laid out the “thresholds” for the use of nukes.  The country’s nuclear weapons, he pointed out, were aimed solely at India and would be available for use not just in response to a nuclear attack from that country, but should it conquer a large part of Pakistan’s territory (the space threshold), or destroy a significant part of its land or air forces (the military threshold), or start to strangle Pakistan economically (the economic threshold), or politically destabilize the country through large-scale internal subversion (the domestic destabilization threshold).

Of these, the space threshold was the most likely trigger. New Delhi as well as Washington speculated as to where the red line for this threshold might lie, though there was no unanimity among defense experts. Many surmised that it would be the impending loss of Lahore, the capital of Punjab, only 15 miles from the Indian border. Others put the red line at Pakistan’s sprawling Indus River basin.

Within seven months of this debate, Indian-Pakistani tensions escalated steeply in the wake of an attack on an Indian military base in Kashmir by Pakistani terrorists in May 2002. At that time, Musharraf reiterated that he would not renounce his country’s right to use nuclear weapons first. The prospect of New Delhi being hit by an atom bomb became so plausible that U.S. Ambassador Robert Blackwill investigated building a hardened bunker in the Embassy compound to survive a nuclear strike. Only when he and his staff realized that those in the bunker would be killed by the aftereffects of the nuclear blast did they abandon the idea.

Unsurprisingly, the leaders of the two countries found themselves staring into the nuclear abyss because of a violent act in Kashmir, a disputed territory which had led to three conventional wars between the South Asian neighbors since 1947, the founding year of an independent India and Pakistan. As a result of the first of these in 1947 and 1948, India acquired about half of Kashmir, with Pakistan getting a third, and the rest occupied later by China.

Kashmir, the Root Cause of Enduring Enmity

The Kashmir dispute dates back to the time when the British-ruled Indian subcontinent was divided into Hindu-majority India and Muslim-majority Pakistan, and indirectly ruled princely states were given the option of joining either one. In October 1947, the Hindu maharaja of Muslim-majority Kashmir signed an “instrument of accession” with India after Muslim tribal raiders from Pakistan invaded his realm. The speedy arrival of Indian troops deprived the invaders of the capital city, Srinagar. Later, they battled regular Pakistani troops until a United Nations-brokered ceasefire on January 1, 1949. The accession document required that Kashmiris be given an opportunity to choose between India and Pakistan once peace was restored. This has not happened yet, and there is no credible prospect of it taking place.

Fearing a defeat in such a plebiscite, given the pro-Pakistani sentiments prevalent among the territory’s majority Muslims, India found several ways of blocking U.N. attempts to hold one. New Delhi then conferred a special status on the part of Kashmir it controlled and held elections for its legislature, while Pakistan watched with trepidation.

In September 1965, when its verbal protests proved futile, Pakistan attempted to change the status quo through military force. It launched a war that once again ended in stalemate and another U.N.-sponsored truce, which required the warring parties to return to the 1949 ceasefire line.

A third armed conflict between the two neighbors followed in December 1971, resulting in Pakistan’s loss of its eastern wing, which became an independent Bangladesh. Soon after, Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi tried to convince Pakistani President Zulfikar Ali Bhutto to agree to transform the 460-mile-long ceasefire line in Kashmir (renamed the “Line of Control”) into an international border. Unwilling to give up his country’s demand for a plebiscite in all of pre-1947 Kashmir, Bhutto refused. So the stalemate continued.

During the military rule of General Zia al Haq (1977-1988), Pakistan initiated a policy of bleeding India with a thousand cuts by sponsoring terrorist actions both inside Indian Kashmir and elsewhere in the country. Delhi responded by bolstering its military presence in Kashmir and brutally repressing those of its inhabitants demanding a plebiscite or advocating separation from India, committing in the process large-scale human rights violations.

In order to stop infiltration by militants from Pakistani Kashmir, India built a double barrier of fencing 12-feet high with the space between planted with hundreds of land mines. Later, that barrier would be equipped as well with thermal imaging devices and motion sensors to help detect infiltrators. By the late 1990s, on one side of the Line of Control were 400,000 Indian soldiers and on the other 300,000 Pakistani troops. No wonder President Bill Clinton called that border “the most dangerous place in the world.”  Today, with the addition of tactical nuclear weapons to the mix, it is far more so.

Kashmir, the Toxic Bone of Contention

Even before Pakistan’s introduction of tactical nukes, tensions between the two neighbors were perilously high.  Then suddenly, at the end of 2015, a flicker of a chance for the normalization of relations appeared. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi had a cordial meeting with his Pakistani counterpart, Nawaz Sharif, on the latter’s birthday, December 25th, in Lahore. But that hope was dashed when, in the early hours of January 2nd, four heavily armed Pakistani terrorists managed to cross the international border in Punjab, wearing Indian Army fatigues, and attacked an air force base in Pathankot. A daylong gun battle followed. By the time order was restored on January 5th, all the terrorists were dead, but so were seven Indian security personnel and one civilian. The United Jihad Council, an umbrella organization of separatist militant groups in Kashmir, claimed credit for the attack. The Indian government, however, insisted that the operation had been masterminded by Masood Azhar, leader of the Pakistan-based Jaish-e Muhammad (Army of Muhammad).

As before, Kashmir was the motivating drive for the anti-India militants. Mercifully, the attack in Pathankot turned out to be a minor event, insufficient to heighten the prospect of war, though it dissipated any goodwill generated by the Modi-Sharif meeting.

There is little doubt, however, that a repeat of the atrocity committed by Pakistani infiltrators in Mumbai in November 2008, leading to the death of 166 people and the burning of that city’s landmark Taj Mahal Hotel, could have consequences that would be dire indeed. The Indian doctrine calling for massive retaliation in response to a successful terrorist strike on that scale could mean the almost instantaneous implementation of its Cold Start strategy. That, in turn, would likely lead to Pakistan’s use of tactical nuclear weapons, thus opening up the real possibility of a full-blown nuclear holocaust with global consequences.

Beyond the long-running Kashmiri conundrum lies Pakistan’s primal fear of the much larger and more powerful India, and its loathing of India’s ambition to become the hegemonic power in South Asia. Irrespective of party labels, governments in New Delhi have pursued a muscular path on national security aimed at bolstering the country’s defense profile.

Overall, Indian leaders are resolved to prove that their country is entering what they fondly call “the age of aspiration.” When, in July 2009, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh officially launched a domestically built nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine, the INS Arihant, it was hailed as a dramatic step in that direction.  According to defense experts, that vessel was the first of its kind not to be built by one of the five recognized nuclear powers: the United States, Britain, China, France, and Russia.

India’s Two Secret Nuclear Sites

On the nuclear front in India, there was more to come. Last December, an investigation by the Washington-based Center for Public Integrity revealed that the Indian government was investing $100 million to build a top secret nuclear city spread over 13 square miles near the village of Challakere, 160 miles north of the southern city of Mysore. When completed, possibly as early as 2017, it will be “the subcontinent’s largest military-run complex of nuclear centrifuges, atomic-research laboratories, and weapons- and aircraft-testing facilities.” Among the project’s aims is to expand the government’s nuclear research, to produce fuel for the country’s nuclear reactors, and to help power its expanding fleet of nuclear submarines. It will be protected by a ring of garrisons, making the site a virtual military facility.

Another secret project, the Indian Rare Materials Plant, near Mysore is already in operation. It is a new nuclear enrichment complex that is feeding the country’s nuclear weapons programs, while laying the foundation for an ambitious project to create an arsenal of hydrogen (thermonuclear) bombs.

The overarching aim of these projects is to give India an extra stockpile of enriched uranium fuel that could be used in such future bombs. As a military site, the project at Challakere will not be open to inspection by the International Atomic Energy Agency or by Washington, since India’s 2008 nuclear agreement with the U.S. excludes access to military-related facilities. These enterprises are directed by the office of the prime minister, who is charged with overseeing all atomic energy projects. India’s Atomic Energy Act and its Official Secrets Act place everything connected to the country’s nuclear program under wraps. In the past, those who tried to obtain a fuller picture of the Indian arsenal and the facilities that feed it have been bludgeoned to silence. 

Little wonder then that a senior White House official was recently quoted as saying, “Even for us, details of the Indian program are always sketchy and hard facts thin on the ground.” He added, “Mysore is being constantly monitored, and we are constantly monitoring progress in Challakere.” However, according to Gary Samore, a former Obama administration coordinator for arms control and weapons of mass destruction, “India intends to build thermonuclear weapons as part of its strategic deterrent against China. It is unclear, when India will realize this goal of a larger and more powerful arsenal, but they will.”

Once manufactured, there is nothing to stop India from deploying such weapons against Pakistan. “India is now developing very big bombs, hydrogen bombs that are city-busters,” said Pervez Hoodbhoy, a leading Pakistani nuclear and national security analyst. “It is not interested in… nuclear weapons for use on the battlefield; it is developing nuclear weapons for eliminating population centers.”

In other words, as the Kashmir dispute continues to fester, inducing periodic terrorist attacks on India and fueling the competition between New Delhi and Islamabad to outpace each other in the variety and size of their nuclear arsenals, the peril to South Asia in particular and the world at large only grows.

Dilip Hiro, a TomDispatch regular, is the author, among many other works, of The Longest August: The Unflinching Rivalry between India and Pakistan (Nation Books). His 36th and latest book is The Age of Aspiration: Money, Power, and Conflict in Globalizing India (The New Press).