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Scandal and Democratic Consolidation 135

reinstatement by arguing that “all citizens in remote places should have the opportu-
nity to obtain information.”
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The decision provoked a barrage of protest from journalists, artists, students,
nongovernmental organizations, and professional media associations, including the
government-sponsored Association of Indonesian Private Radio Stations. Their
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main concern was that the Ministry of Information’s return would lead to a revival of
the New Order’s heavy-handed controls. As subsequent events showed, this threat
was real. While the media and parliamentary advocates would continue to contest
these controls, scandal itself re-entered the arena almost as an independent force,
damaging Megawati’s chances to retain the presidency and undercutting her attempts
at repression.
In December 2001, Megawati’s new information ministry vindicated critics’ fears
by proposing to add thirty-seven articles to the 1999 Press Law, one of reformasi ’s
signature reforms, to curb “excessive freedom of the press.” The proposed amend-
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ments would have empowered the courts and police to take action against media
outlets and individual journalists who appeared to violate professional or ethical
standards. Before the DPR Commission I, Mu’arif explained that his office was more
focused on educating the media and public on existing provisions in the Press Law
than pushing for major revisions. But he again stressed that the police would have the
power to punish violators under the criminal code.
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This proposal to reinforce the police role in arbitrating disputes over media con-
tent marked a departure from the model developed during reformasi that instead had
empowered the newly independent National Press Council to mediate. To mute criti-
cism, Mu’arif announced that his “information campaign would be conducted in coop-
eration with the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights and the Press Council.” But the
National Press Council’s executive director, Lukas Luwarso, expressed strong disap-
proval, stating, “I don’t think it would be wise to use the Criminal Code to settle any
dispute involving the press.”
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This negative reaction to amending the Press Law forced Mu’arif to abandon his
proposal. But then on March 2002, the government denied a work permit renewal
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to Australian journalist Lindsay Murdoch. The denial set off new alarms that the
government was returning to the capricious media controls that had characterized
Suharto’s New Order. Murdoch’s articles had angered officials, particularly a report
that nearly two hundred East Timorese children had been taken from their families
in West Timor’s refugee camps since 1999 and placed in orphanages and “privately
owned dormitories.” Another article revealed that Indonesian soldiers, during a
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hunt for separatist leaders in Aceh, had poured boiling water over a four-month-old
baby to elicit cooperation from his mother before going on “a killing, looting and
burning spree through the village.”
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The foreign ministry characterized the denial of Murdoch’s visa extension as a
technical matter. But the head of the Alliance of Independent Journalists, Solahuddin
[one name], said, “this incident has signaled a journalist could be punished without
any reason.” The Wall Street Journal editorialized that “if the authorities in Jakarta
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can now refuse to renew the visa of a foreign correspondent who was allegedly ‘caus-
ing too much trouble,’ then it will not be difficult . . . to move against . . . domestic
journalists.”
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As ominous as these statements sounded for journalists, President Megawati’s
hostility underscored the risks the new president herself faced, in a postauthori-
tarian context, as she worked out her relationship to the press. In stark contrast to