Page 60 - SCANDAL AND DEMOCRACY

Delegitimating Authoritarianism 45

other fighters for democracy [who] took to the streets.” In sum, one of the most
75
important breaks from the past was the public’s reaction: viewing the bans as an
attack not only on the publications but on the entire middle class that threatened to
derail the country’s political and economic advances.
Another factor inspiring the new determination was the surprising response of
the banned publications’ owners and personnel, particularly from Tempo and Dë TIK .
Only five days after the ministry’s decree, starting the cynical pattern that Mohamad
describes, regime cronies prepared to turn the closures into market opportunity. The
76
regime’s restriction on the number of publishing permits, to about 264 in 1991, made
media ownership a lucrative rent for privileged members of this de facto publishing
“cartel,” including Tempo . Consequently, new investments in the publishing industry
required acquisition of an existing license.
77
Seizing the chance to gain access to this protected market, Habibie was planning
to not only sue Tempo but also require that it replace its editors and shareholders

before resuming publication. According to several sources, he told Tempo represen-
78
tatives to approach one of Suharto’s closest friends, timber tycoon Mohamad “Bob”
Hasan, to discuss a business relationship. The information minister, Harmoko,
79
moreover, was reportedly soliciting cash bribes and company shares for granting new
print press licenses, while Suharto’s son-in-law, Prabowo Subianto, was also maneu-
vering to control Tempo .
80
A few weeks after the bans, the government offered Tempo , Dë TIK , and Editor
the opportunity to obtain new licenses, conditional upon replacing management
and shareholders. In effect, the newsweeklies faced the same political and practical
81
choices that had confronted all print media since 1978. To stay in business was to
compromise. To resist would allow their publications to “die” and be replaced by oth-
ers that were crony controlled.
82
Each journal responded differently to the dilemma. Few among Editor ’s staff
joined the protests staged by Dë TIK and Tempo employees, some expressing irritation
at being grouped with the others in the crackdown. Recognizing the closures as a
83
market opportunity, Editor ’s representatives accepted the government’s conditions for
a new SIUPP. By January 1995, Editor resumed publishing under the new name Tiras
with start-up capital from the minister of manpower, Abdul Latief—increasing regime
ownership of media. By contrast, Tempo and Dë TIK sent delegations to meet with leg-
84
islators and members of the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnasham)
to demand, unsuccessfully, restoration of their licenses. In the following weeks, Tem-
85
po ’s parent company, PT Grafiti Pers, dispatched representatives to negotiate a new
license, and the magazine’s board of directors talked with outside investors.
86
Ultimately, however, Tempo and Dë TIK refused to replace their editors or share-
holders. Nor did they sign any statements promising to circumscribe future reporting
to obtain new licenses. Dë TIK ’s largest shareholder, Surya Paloh, who suffered an
earlier ban in 1987, said he was “tired of building up papers only to have them banned
or beaten around.” Mohamad, noting that Tempo employees had held a majority of
87
shares since its inception, refused to allow his magazine to be taken over by new
investors and bridled at pressure to replace senior staff. “Personally,” he commented,
“rather than give in to such pressure, it would be better if Tempo were not revived.”
88
After these decisions, Tempo ’s largest investor negotiated with regime crony, Bob
Hasan, to launch a new publication called Gatra , and thirty-five of Tempo ’s journal-
ists joined the staff. An even larger group, however, rejected this opportunity. They
89
worked instead with Mohamad to start a new magazine, but were ultimately denied