Let Them Return Home: Displaced Acehnese Now Face Fears of Dispossession
Daniel Fitzpatrick
As the massive aid program to Aceh accelerates, two proposals should be of particular concern: the relocation camps for thousands of Acehnese, and the coastal buffer zone to protect against future tsunami.
Both proposals may appear innocuous enough. More than 400,000 displaced Acehnese need adequate shelter while their cities and villages are re-built. Around 150,000 will be housed in 24 or more re-location camps, mainly around the cities of Banda Aceh and Meulaboh. Ostensibly, this is to allow orderly re-building over a period of 2 to 5 years.
A coastal buffer zone has also been proposed in the draft master plan for Aceh's reconstruction. This plan, not yet released for public comment, reportedly contains proposals for two zones: a 300 m coastal strip to be free of all buildings, and a 1.6 km wide secondary area in which re-building will be greatly restricted.
What is wrong with these proposals? Why have they generated such disquiet among so many Acehnese? The answer lies in issues of corruption and oppression. These issues have the potential to discredit relief efforts, including Australia's own assistance programme, and spark another stage in the long-running conflict between Indonesian military forces and the Acehnese rebel movement.
Civil administration in Aceh is often described as the most corrupt in Indonesia. It is closely linked with the military, which entrenched its control over Aceh during the 2003-4 period of martial law. Approximately 70% of the military's national budget comes from unofficial sources. Aceh is vital to military interests because it allows continued access to lucrative illegal logging, smuggling and extortion activities.
Military-backed conglomerates are now circling the huge reconstruction honeypot. This includes Artha Graha, which controversially announced and then denied that it had an agreement to re-build Meulaboh. Artha Graha's presence is highly visible in Aceh, with banners reading "Artha Graha Cares" festooning the shattered streets of Banda Aceh. Another conglomerate to watch is the Bakrie Group, a diversified group that has extensive plantation interests in Sumatra.
Closely linked with the military's rent-seeking imperative is its longstanding desire to separate the local population from Aceh's rebel forces. Even before the tsunami hit, approximately 20,000 Acehnese had already been forced into relocation camps along the east coast. These tactics mirror the disastrous re-settlement programme in East Timor that led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands from famine and disease.
International experience suggests that Aceh's “semi-permanent” re-location camps will most likely become permanent. The inhabitants will be tightly controlled, separated from their livelihoods, subjected to debilitating health and social problems. In the meantime, what will happen to their land? Who will get the benefit of the buffer zone? While most international attention has focused on the question of security, it is the question of land that is emerging as a primary flashpoint for the Acehnese people.
According to Indonesian media reports, a "land mafia" has already begun to obscure boundaries in devastated areas in order to make fraudulent land claims. If the experience in other parts of Indonesia is any guide, this mafia will act closely with corrupt officials to obtain valuable land with minimal compensation, if any, to local landholders. The head of Aceh's urban planning and housing agency has already been quoted as saying, of landholders in the proposed buffer zone: “we know they don't have ownership certificates, so we will compensate accordingly.”
In the 1980s and 1990s I travelled extensively down the West Coast of Aceh, an itinerant Australian surfer enjoying the extraordinary hospitality of the Acehnese. Aside from Meulaboh and Banda Aceh, the West Coast towns and villages were heavily based around fishing and other maritime industries. While local gardens and rice-fields were also worked, almost every family had a member who engaged in small-scale fishing, octopus collection or shrimp farming.
The coastal area had breathtaking views. In some places the mountains plunged into the sea; in others they retreated and were ringed with almost impenetrable rainforest. The population clung to the shoreline, selling fish and produce at small markets dotting the main road. They were maritime people; they needed to be close to the boats and small town markets. They relied on the coast road for passing trade.
These people will be dispossessed under the proposed buffer zone. They will not be allowed to re-build within 300 metres of the coastline; and, while some fishermen will be able to live in the secondary 1.6 kilometre strip, markets and other forms of infrastructure such as roads will be forbidden. The coast road itself will be re-routed through the mountains.
How will land in the buffer zone be utilised? Most media reports have focused on mangrove planting, but official statements have also mentioned the presence of palm trees. In this there may be a clue. Oil palm plantations have already proliferated along the southern coast of Aceh below Meulaboh. They have a notorious appetite for land. It would be no surprise then if plantation interests were particularly supportive of the draft zoning plan.
The people most devastated by the tsunami were the poor fishermen and farmers who lived along the West Coast. Most had no assets or livelihood other those offered by their former coastal lands. They are unlikely to receive adequate compensation for their land, let alone their livelihoods. Wouldn't an effective early warning system be a better way to protect against future tsunami? Would the protective benefits of coastal trees truly outweigh the injustice and anger generated by re-location? These are questions that deserve urgent attention if those who suffered most from the tsunami are not to suffer even more from opportunistic and shameful acts of dispossession.