Live Encounters Magazine Volume One November-December 2024.
“Let’s bulldoze and occupy them now!”: dismantling the logic of outsourcing
in the National Strategic Project for Food Estate and Energy in West Papua
– by Dr. Budi Hernawan
I was privileged to attend two important events in Jakarta on 16 and 18 October 2024 where representatives of the Malind and Ye tribes from the Southern Papua advocate for their rights to exist in their own land against the encroachment of the so-called Proyek Strategis Nasional Food Estate (the National Strategic Projects for Food Estate, hereafter PSN). The first event occurred in the Office of Indonesian Legal Aid Foundation (YLBHI) and the second in the office of the Indonesian Bishops’ Conference. I am not reporting the details of the events, but I will reflect on the testimonies presented by the indigenous Papuans during the meetings since their narratives encapsulate what the Cameroonian philosopher, Achille Mbembe, calls ‘indirect private governance’ of postcolony (Mbembe 2001: 80) or I would call it outsourcing of West Papua as postcolony.
Mbembe explains that indirect private governance entails “privatisation of state sovereignty performed by private operators for private ends” (Mbembe 2001: 78). The outsourcing of state sovereignty aims not only privatises the means of coercion but also resources and other utilities formerly concentrated in the state. In exercising the state’s coercion against the Papuans, the Indonesian state armed forces remain the main operator on the ground as we will learn from the testimonies below.
However, the absence of a presidential decree that governs a military operation for both combat and non-combat functions as stipulated by Law 34/2004 regarding the Indonesian Military (TNI) demonstrates the ways in which the state has outsourced its power to various units within the Indonesian military without the required legal and legitimate power of the state. As a result, these military units no longer act to protect the nations, the people and the country but the private enterprise.
On the other hand, the privatisation of state power over resources has been translated into encroaching extractive industry that has deeply changed the landscape of Papua and the indigenous Papuans. The state has outsourced its authority to both national and international corporation to dominate the Papuan landscape, body and psyche.
The outsourcing framework is effective to analyse the production of Papua as a postcolony, which Mbembe defines societies that [1] emerged from colonial past and violence. It is [2] chaotic but coherent, governed by [3] political improvisation, and [4] distinctive regime of violence (Mbembe 2001: 102). The postcolony of Papua, however, not only involves a binary opposition of Papua and Indonesia. Rather, it implants ‘the logic of conviviality’ to all Papuans and Indonesians whereby the state, the Papuans and the Indonesians co-exist and share space.
The testimonies
During the two separate meetings, the representatives of the Malind and Yei tribes explained the penetration of PSN to their lives, their land, their forest, their animals in a bitter tone. They represent some 50,000 indigenous peoples affected by the project (Pusaka Bentala Rakyat 2024: 12). The number is only half size of the population of Setiabudi District, the smallest district in Jakarta[1] but their land that the project has been penetrating is about 10 times larger than Jakarta.
Mama Sinta, a woman elder from Ilwayap District, told the meetings, “We put sasi, coconut leaves, as a sign of blockade but Jhonlin Group [the corporation] doesn’t care. They keep bulldozing our land. We are helpless. We are scared. Jhonlin Group does not acknowledge us. We cannot do anything because the [Indonesian] military are there to protect them. They just shoot at deer randomly. We can only look at from a distance with tears. When we heard that the Regent of Merauke was going to visit us, we told him our rejection of the project.
We told him the destruction and impact that we suffered from the project. We already complained to him but he did nothing. So, we are appalled whom he protects? We reject the corporation, but they already bulldoze our forest, dig up our water fountain, drive away fish, deer, kangaroo, pigs and other animals. So, we came here to Jakarta to raise our concerns to the government ministries here.”
Vincent, another landowner from Jagegob District, continues, “In my area, they plan to grow sugarcane. My clan has already rejected the project. We are a bit better off than Mama Sinta’s situation because we did not deal with the [military] troops. We only deal with Bintara Pembina Desa (Babinsa, low ranking army officers) who go around door to door to tell off people to give up their land. This [action] has caused tension and rift within families. For some families, where brother agrees to receive compensation, his sister opposes or vice versa so they have family fight.”
Simon, the Coordinator of Forum Solidaritas Merauke (Solidarity Forum of Merauke), narrated his story. “Around June-July 2024, we saw a luxury cruise with five decks and helipad belongs to Haji Ihsam harboured in Mariana strait. Towards the end of July 2024, some 100 excavators arrived, and they are now clearing the forest aiming to construct 135 km road with 1 km wide straight from District Ilwayap in the West to District Muting in the East [see the long orange line in the middle of Figure 1]. The excavators are so cruel. They just killed deer by crushing them with their claws just like that. Meanwhile, the army are flying around with choppers and shoot dead at any deer they see are running away from the excavators. Then they collect and bring them to the camp to eat. They never ask for our permission.”
“The road project is ridiculous. There are many parts on the way are very deep peatland. Boats can even sail through during the rainy season. How come they will build the road? Nonetheless, they already destroy our water. We drink from the swamp. There are lotus flowers and others who filter the water so we can drink it. Now, it’s gone. Other parts are our sacred ancestral ground where not everyone is allowed to enter. They have also been destroyed. So we oppose this project. We already raised this issue with Papua’s People Council (MRP) of South Papua Province but they told us that they know nothing. They confessed that they have never been consulted by the central government or the Regent of Merauke. So, we put sasi adat, symbolic blockade, in every village to tell the corporation that we oppose them.”
Affirming the previous testimonies, Franky Samperante, Director of Pusaka Bentala Rakyat Foundation, explains that the Food Estate project in Merauke is full of secrecy. “We already sent letters to the government of Merauke to request the site plan of the food estate project on the ground of freedom of information. But we only received a list of small companies operating in Merauke unrelated to the food estate projects. They do not comply with free prior informed consent as required. There is no AMDAL (Environmental Impact Analysis), KLHS (Strategic Environment Analysis) and permission of the feasibility of the environment documents”
He also questions the road project that Haji Isam is currently doing [see the long orange line in the middle of Figure 1]. “The road project doesn’t make sense. Where do you find in Indonesia a road with one-kilometre wide? We suspect it’s not only for road but for something else. But we don’t know, and we don’t have information from the government or the contractor because they do not want to tell us. It’s also questionable the role of the military troops with big guns in the field protecting the project”
The testimonies went around for almost 2 hours. At the end, the speakers expressed their gratitude to the audience who paid attention to them because no one in Merauke listened to them. They smile but they are also well aware of that their struggle is far from over.
What is the National Strategic Projects for Food Estate and Energy?
PSN was born in 2016 by Nawacita, the nine vision of the outgoing President Joko Widodo, who was determined to expedite economic development and economic equality in 3T (tertinggal, terdepan, terluar or the most undeveloped, the frontier and the outer) areas through massive infrastructure development (Rasunah et al. 2024: 1). The vision was implemented by various Presidential Decrees and Ministerial Regulations resulted in 341 PSN across 34 provinces in Indonesia during the period of 2016-2024.
The latest Ministerial Regulation No. 8 of 2023 regarding the Fourth Amendment of Ministerial Regulation No. 7 of 2021 regarding the Change of the List of PSN is the one that introduces 10 new mega projects in Papua. Five of them are infrastructure projects, such as Sorong Port, new airport of Nabire, new airport of Siboru and others. The food estate projects in the Regency of Merauke falls under the category of Kawasan Ekonomi Khusus (Special Economy Zone) aiming to produce sugar, bioethanol, and rice (Pusaka Bentala Rakyat 2024: 2).
The logic of the project is not novel. It is a continuation of 2.5 million-hectare MIFEE (Merauke Food and Energy Estate)[2]project introduced by Yudhoyono administration in 2010 but failed to meet its own ambition as initially had claimed. Officially, the government grabbed 1,282,833 hectares (see Figure 2) from the Malind tribe or 25 percent of the territory of Merauke Regency for the project but since it was outsourced to 38 corporations, the size of the occupied land became 1,588,651 hectares (almost ten times the size of London). Nevertheless, the destruction of the Malind’s life is more than real. Half size of MIFEE project was virgin rainforest, which belongs to the Malind tribe. It had been cleared but left abandoned.
A joint investigative report of TEMPO magazine, Pusaka Bentala Rakyat and Trend Asia, “Competing Food Estates in Merauke”, 23 September 2024[3], reveals that Jokowi refused to reuse MIFEE area because he did not want the Democrat Party, Yudhoyono’s political party, would have taken credit, should the project had gone well. Instead, Jokowi expedited the food estate project in Central Kalimantan aiming for food storage and grow casava.
Nonetheless, TEMPO noted that both projects withered away with no result and both Ombudsman and BPK’s audit found huge problems of the project starting from the planning until the implementation stage. The failure of Central Kalimantan projects, however, did not stop Jokowi’s administration. Instead, it prompted Jokowi to issue Presidential Decree No. 15/2024 set up a new task force to expedite self-sufficiency of sugar and bioethanol headed by Minister of Energy and Investment, Bahlil Lahadalia. It did not take too long for Bahlil Lahadalia to act.
He held meeting with various ministries and local government of South Papua and Merauke that outsourced 10 corporations to do the job which resulted in the first planting of sugarcane by Jokowi in Tanah Miring District on 27 July 2024 (Pusaka Bentala Rakyat 2024: 6-7).
But at the same time, then President-elect Prabowo felt that food estate was his idea since 2009 since as the Minister of Defence, he was appointed by President Jokowi as the head of task force of food security. He instructed his Ministry of Defence to find a tycoon who was willing to prefinance the project. They found coal mining entrepreneur Andi Syamsuddin Arsyad also known as Haji Isam, the owner of Jhonlin Group and the cousin of the former Minister of Agriculture Amra Sulaiman. He is the one on the ground now. He is tasked to clear 50,000 -100,000 hectares which costs Rp1 trillion (USD66 millions). Prabowo also revived PT Agra Industry Nasional (Agrinas) which previously failed in the food estate project in Gunung Mas, Central Kalimantan (Pusaka Bentala Rakyat 2024: 10).
In a broader picture of PSN, the recent report of Nalar Institute from Yogyakarta, “Proyek Strategis Nasional: KepentinganSi(apa)? Catatan Kritis Implementasi PSN 2016-2024” (Rasunah et al. 2024) is revealing. Although the report is framed in economic terms, it provides us with in-depth analysis of the inherent contradiction between the Nawacitapromise for economic development and equality and the reality on the ground. The Report argues that construction of infrastructure does not necessarily generate multiplier effects that lead to an increase of people’s welfare. On the contrary, the PSN policy has increased social conflict and environmental destruction. The report from Konsorsium Pembaruan Agraria (KPA/ the Agrarian Reform Consortium) explains that during 2020-2023 there are 115 agrarian conflicts eruption due to PSN, which continues to increase exponentially every year; down streaming process in the mining industry has increased poverty; and food estate project seriously damage the environment (Rasunah et al. 2024: 4).
Further the report explains two major detrimental impacts of PSN: social and environmental. In the social sphere, PSN has caused the decline of people’s economy, the rise of agrarian conflict and dispute over land compensation, disruption of daily life activity, threat of the life of indigenous community, and threat to public health and safety. For instance, the nickel project in Sulawesi Tenggara has impoverished the people from 11,17% (2021) to 11.43% (2023) instead of increasing their welfare whereas the similar nickel project in Obi Island in North Maluku has significantly caused air pollution which led to the increase of perspiration infection disease between 2021-2022 (Rasunah et al. 2024: xx).
Similarly, PSN has caused detrimental impacts on the environment. The report found that the most frequently impact of the infrastructure development is the damage of the green ecosystem. This includes destruction of forest and peatland, and reduction of green space. For instance, the construction of Morowali Industrial Park (IMIP) in Central Sulawesi has sacrificed 8,700 hectares of forest for mining operation and smelter. 90 hectares of forest was cleared to construct Tiu Suntuk dam in the Sumbawa Barat Regency and of course, 2,684,680.68 hectare of forest in the South Papua Province will be destroyed to develop food estate projects as explained above (Rasunah et al. 2024: 4).
If we scrutinise further, the PSN is flawed since its inception since it adopts the logic of outsourcing. The report clearly identifies the flaws in five stages of project design and implementation (Rasunah et al. 2024: 19-21). At the project design stage, PSN failed to meet its promise to redistribute resources. The fact is distribution of resources, and the project puts a heavy emphasis on procedures than substance, which is about people’s consent and participation. The second stage is the agenda setting which lacks legitimate representation of all stakeholders and does not comply fully with AMDAL and KLHS. The third stage, planning and policy formulation of PSN, does not include public consultation, proper dissemination of information to the public, and transparency of information about the project.
The fourth stage of implementation is full of intimidation, blockade from the affected community so the project is delayed which is supposed to be finalised in the beginning of the project. The fifth stage of monitoring indicates corruption of the project funds and there is no follow-up of people’s complaint by the government whereas corporation does not monitor and evaluate of the safety and welfare of employees and implementation of CSR and the environment. In sum, the report argues that the main problem of PSN is all about governance.
Why is it called outsourcing?
If we analyse PSN, the problem not only lies on the failed promise of development, but it is much more disturbing than that. The logic of outsourcing of PSN demonstrates that the Indonesian state treats West Papua as postcolony or no man’s land. The testimonies of the indigenous community shows that they do not exist in the eyes of the government, the corporations and TNI. The indigenous people have told us that they have to accept the dysfunctional state apparatus: Regent of Merauke, the newly established South Papua Province, Papua’s People’s Council (MRP) of the South Papua Province, and the Papua People’s Council (DPRP) of the South Papua Province.
All these institutions have failed to protect them as the legitimate citizens of the South Papua Province. Instead, they have been treated as an alien who does not have any rights to exist. The state has even privatized its sovereignty to the selected corporations to occupy the Malind land and remove their people with the direct assistance of TNI.
The whole policy of PSN is chaotic since the planning stage as the first Mbembe’s criterion of the postcolony characterises. Competing interests to be portrayed as the saviour of food security have been manifested in Yudhoyono’s policy of MIFEE, Jokowi’s policy of PSN and now Prabowo’s PSN follow-up. PSN does not follow the logical and ethical planning, but it has a coherent internal logic, namely growthism and occupation. The promises for economic development and equality of the local community do not match the reality on the ground since the indigenous community have been removed from their ancestral land so the project only benefits corporations as the outsource of the state sovereignty. MIFEE failed but the same logic was adopted in the PSN which only further harm the indigenous community. The policy does not learn from failure in Central Kalimantan or any other parts of Indonesia.
We also found the competing interests among different administrations which resulted in political improvisation to twist regulations as the second Mbembe’s criterion of the postcolony suggests. For instance, the legal requirements of AMDAL, KLHS, permission of feasibility of the environment, prohibition of the involvement of the Indonesian military in civilian affairs, and more importantly, free prior informed consent from the affected community–all have never been fully fulfilled. Yudhoyono, Jokowi, and now Prabowo is determined to be the only game in town so each of them does not tolerate any competition.
Now Prabowo administration is the only one that has a chance to prove. That is why since day one of his administration, various ministeries have declared their determination to make PSN in Merauke a big success. Moreover, Haji Isam, the outsource, is fully mandated and protected to break the ground by constructing 135-kilometre road project to penetrate the Malind land regardless of the opposition of the landowner and serious and permanent destruction to the environment.
Finally, regime of violence, the last criterion of Mbembe’s postcolony, has been manifested in both the massive destruction of the environment and the role of military outside their jurisdiction. Despite all previous failures in other parts of Indonesia, PSN has no hesitation to bulldoze the ancestral land which equals the existence of the Malind while TNI are protecting the PSN, not the people.
The involvement of TNI is not limited to bad apples but as an institution. While such involvement is not novel in the Indonesian history, especially during Suharto’s New Order, it remains disturbing and illegal since Article 17 of Law 34/2004 regarding the Indonesian National Military clearly stipulates that any deployment of the Indonesian Military for non-combat operations requires a presidential decree with the approval of the National Parliament. To date, the continuous TNI’s deployment to West Papua does not comply with the legal requirement and thus poses legality and legitimacy questions.
[1] https://jakselkota.bps.go.id/id/statistics-table/2/MTM1IzI=/jumlah-penduduk-menurut-kecamatan.html
[2] https://awasmifee.potager.org/
[3] https://magz.tempo.co/read/cover-story/42303/food-estates-in-merauke
© Dr. Budi Hernawan
Budi Hernawan is Senior Lecturer at Driyarkara School of Philosophy in Jakarta. He obtained PhD from The Australian National University, Canberra. He is the author of Torture and Peacebuilding in Indonesia: The case of Papua. His scholarship focuses the phenomenon of violence, esp. torture, its impacts on civilian population in a fragile context in Asia-Pacific and explores the whole spectrum of regulatory framework to address the violence in the long run. His current research deals with “Religion and Protection of Civilians during armed conflict: a comparative study of Papua-Indonesia, Southern Thailand and Myanmar.” He has extensive experience of working with both international human rights and humanitarian organisations such as Franciscans International and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).
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