One issue that spurred particularly heated discussion was Papua which, as Peter and Gary Hogan have previously noted on The Strategist, is an area of potential tension between our countries. While the Indonesian participants acknowledged Australia’s official line of recognising Indonesian sovereignty over Papua, some were wary about our commitment to this position. One speaker noted that although Indonesian officials were aware of the Lombok Treaty’s wording on Papua, regular high-level policy coordination between our sides might assist in making our position even clearer. Others talked about bringing Papua New Guinea into a dialogue with Indonesia to discuss the province and other common strategic issues. What was clear from the sometimes heated exchanges around the table was that such frank discussion reflected the trust and confidence in the room, but this isn’t always apparent in the wider relationship.

As with many dialogues on defence and security in the Asia-Pacific, discussion about the strategic position of China and the United States was prominent. There were diverse views but an opinion common to many was that the US remained central to regional confidence and stability. A number of participants thought that Washington needed to do a better job of explaining its broader strategic purpose. Some also said there needed to be a clearer statement of purpose made for the enhanced cooperation between the US and Australia in our north. Showing that all politics is ultimately local, a number of delegates pointed to perceptions (reportedly held by some in Indonesia) that the US Marine Corps deployment was targeted towards protecting US mining interests in Papua. That proposition would likely bemuse US policy makers in both the Pentagon and State Department, but it points to the deep investment needed to build closer relations and trust.

On China’s rise, many participants are watching developments in the South China Sea very closely, especially with an eye to any potential impacts on the security of sea-borne trade. Many in Indonesia are acutely aware of their country’s growing strategic importance and the way in which geography is creating a greater global interest in the region and its vital sea-lanes. There was deep discussion at the dialogue on how Indonesia should respond to this emerging strategic role. Should Jakarta move away from its traditionally non-aligned approach, or does its current foreign policy settings adequately protect its interests? There was broad endorsement for closer ties with Australia and interest in the possibility that such cooperation might include more joint effort on maritime security. But it would be premature to suggest that there’s widespread agreement as to how the bilateral relationship should be deepened.

One particularly amusing and insightful presentation compared the Australia–Indonesia relationship to a marriage. And if the analogy is right, for reasons of proximity, history, interest and mutual benefit, the case for keeping the marriage of a rather unlikely couple together is very strong: even the best relationships have ups and downs. There remains some cause to wish that the two countries understood each other better but a lack of Indonesian language training in Australia and similarly a lack of a strong Indonesian interest in studying Australia don’t help. But participants agreed that individuals and groups in both countries would continue to highlight differences of interest, if not of values, between the two countries. The challenge for Australia and Indonesia is to learn to love each other with all our faults and differences, rather than to make those blemishes grounds for splitting up.

Peter Jennings is executive director at ASPI, and Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist. Image credit: Luke Wilson, ASPI.

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The arrangement is described as a principles-based statement of intent aimed at providing an updated framework to guide the continuing growth of our practical defence cooperation, rather than renewing ‘don’t sit under the coconut tree with anybody else but me’ vows or tightening already strong commitments to consult in the event of an external attack.

Accordingly, its key principles are likely to reflect specific dynamics in the bilateral relationship in addition to the general imperatives behind the White Paper’s focus on the South Pacific. Our close and longstanding, but always asymmetrical and occasionally testy, defence ties have warmed as Sandline-era scars heal. The fading into the past of a painful, PNG-initiated but Australian-funded, security sector reform process (from 2000 to 2006) to create a more stable and affordable force particularly helps. But ADF–PNGDF work together in RAMSI, during last year’s election, and to commence international peacekeeping, as well as PNGDF’s grace under pressure during the 2011–12 political impasse, have restored mutual trust and respect too. And the PNG Government’s initiation of its own National Security Policy and Defence White Paper processes has demonstrated its resolve to take its security more seriously, and also underlined our shared strategic interests.

Certain challenges naturally remain. Although longstanding ambitions to grow the PNGDF from 2,000 to 10,000 seem aspirational (and the force probably should be slightly larger—it had 3,500 personnel, including 450 ADF loan staff, at Independence) even modest expansion could distort age/rank structures and impose unsustainable cost and discipline pressures. Moves to increase military contributions to internal security, resource-protection, nation-building and economic tasks also pose tricky questions as well as opportunities for PNG’s White Paper and National Security Policy drafters. Signs PNG considered seeking a large Chinese loan to recapitalise the force (Beijing apparently responded cautiously) had potential to ruffle feathers too. And while slightly divergent approaches to capability and other issues are hardly surprising or cause for great concern so long as they continue to be approached constructively, positive attitudes probably remain vulnerable to scandals or gross acts of insensitivity.

Of course the fact some challenges remain only serves to underline the value of Friday’s deal. The PNGDF may not have the Indonesian Armed Forces’ potential as a defence partner, given the latter’s evolving high-end capabilities, but PNG looms large in Australia’s strategic thinking. Proximity counts, and while there’s probably something to suggestions the White Paper’s regional focus was partly cost-driven, Australia’s strategic geography makes our attention to the neighbourhood non-discretionary in peacetime and in war. Growing efforts to help rebuild a PNGDF that’s a strategic asset and not a liability for the ADF will be a good investment.

What then should we make of suggestions aid projects and military exercises with South Pacific countries such as PNG offer a relatively low risk opportunity to encourage cooperation with China? Well, at one level, any steps to further integrate Chinese activities into regional governance norms might seem welcome. But I’d guess officials will be pretty cautious. There are few signs Beijing intends to use its growing influence to carve out a strategic presence so far from its shores and close to ours. And it won’t be low risk to us if one day it does.

Officials may lose less sleep over Suva’s efforts to initiate a defence pact with PNG. Even if this gets off the ground, any assistance will be dwarfed by our own, and Port Moresby won’t be any keener to be lorded over by Fiji than us on peacekeeping. The PNGDF has earned some trust on its resistance to anti-democratic contagion and it might even positively influence the RFMF over time.

In the meanwhile, it’s encouraging that the defence story fits Ms Gillard’s theme that the overall bilateral relationship’s evolving along more mature ‘partnership’ lines. And although the ADF and PNGDF might still learn a thing or two about joint prioritisation and funding from AusAID’s 20-times larger country program—this sense of genuine partnership seems increasingly in reach. As such, Friday’s deal helps consolidate recent gains and offers a path for further progress.

Karl Claxton is an analyst at ASPI. Image courtesy of Flickr user Rita Willaert.

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Incidents like the 2008 detention, trial and jailing by Indonesian officials of five middle-aged Queenslanders who arrived unannounced in Merauke by plane without visas do nothing to dispel such fantasies. Indonesian distrust is also fed by developments like the launch last year in Canberra of the Australia-Pacific chapter of International Parliamentarians for West Papua. Travel to Papua by Australian officials is carefully controlled and closely monitored. For foreign media, Papua is mostly a no-go zone.

Papua isn’t Indonesia’s issue alone. It’s difficult to imagine anything that could do more to knock the current trajectory in Australia-Indonesia relations off its positive path than a catastrophic failure by Jakarta to deal successfully with Papua. Our vital national interest hinges on the quality of leadership, competence of administration and effectiveness of policies in Papua, all of which lie beyond our control. And current indicators aren’t promising.

Leaders of both nations have publicly stated a mutual desire for a strategic partnership. This kind of relationship can only be realised if founded on trust and candour. The only way to influence a solution to the Papua problem is for both sides to air the issues and articulate possible approaches, as strategic partners with a shared stake in the outcome should.

For the record, I don’t subscribe to the deterministic model currently in vogue, which predicts that Papua will, sooner or later, go the way of East Timor. Some key differences between the two cases make comparisons misleading.

First, money matters. In 2011, extractive industries made up 16% of Indonesian GDP and more than 40% of Indonesian exports. The mineral and oil wealth of Papua, current and potential, is a significant proportion of this, especially the huge USA-owned Freeport-McMoRan copper and gold mine at Grasberg. It’s unlikely the USA would play the same peacebroker role in Papua that it did in East Timor, where there was little American capital investment on the line.

Second, the fragmented OPM is nowhere near the organised and unified force that FALINTIL was. The Papuan diaspora lacks the numbers and the clout of its East Timorese equivalent, let alone a Jose Ramos-Horta figure, lobbying world leaders and winning a Nobel Peace Prize into the bargain.

Third, local demographics add further complexity to the issue. Unlike East Timor, where the majority population remained indigenous, decades of transmigration into Papua from other corners of the archipelago have seen indigenous Papuan numbers recently surpassed by non-Melanesian residents. Ironically, a genuine Act of Free Choice today would probably return the same result as that engineered by the Indonesian military in 1969—amalgamation with Indonesia. Not that Jakarta is about to take the same gamble it did in 1999 in East Timor to test that theory.

Finally, the central and ongoing role played by Australia in East Timorese nationhood should be enough to dampen even our most enthusiastic official support for Papuan independence. A hard-nosed cost-benefit analysis of Australia’s involvement in East Timor over the last 13 years should have strategists and taxpayers alike balking at any more of the same—even if it did seem like a good idea at the time.

In assisting the Indonesian side, we should do more than skirt around the elephant in the room, hoping Jakarta will apply the salutary lessons of its disastrous 24 years in East Timor to avoid a similar outcome in Papua. We should feel comfortable and confident enough to raise the issue, promote discussion and explore options for an acceptable and sustainable solution. Genuine strategic partners can do that. Especially when mutual interests hang in the balance.

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Let’s look at the series of steps that led up to that announcement and what hasn’t happened since. The Foreign Ministers of Australia, New Zealand and Fiji met in July last year and agreed that it was time to rise above Suva’s previous habit of expelling Oz or Kiwi diplomats whenever the military regime felt offended. With that agreement in hand, negotiations on the Australian to go to Suva began in earnest.

Margaret Twomey was both an obvious and excellent choice by Canberra. If there was any possible mark against her from Suva’s view, it might be that Twomey knew the place and the players too well because of her previous service as deputy High Commissioner. She was in that number two slot in Suva in 2000 when George Speight and some renegade troops stormed Parliament and took Prime Minister Mahendra Chaudhry and his Cabinet hostage. Speight’s coup attempt was the one that ultimately failed; the coup that mattered was staged by Fiji’s military commander, Frank Bainimarama, who imposed martial rule and seized government as he dismissed the President, Ratu Mara. Bainimarama negotiated an end to the siege which gave formal and legal effect to the overthrow of Chaudhry. Bainimarama then imposed his own choice, Laisenia Qarase, as the replacement Prime Minister.

So Margaret Twomey was on the ground in Suva when Bainimarama carried out his first successful coup in 2000 to lay the ground for what eventually became Fiji’s New Order government. She’s now been selected to return to try to restore relations with the New Order regime that imposed itself by a second successful coup in 2006, overthrowing Qarase because he’d fallen out with the Supremo who had first raised him up. You can see how some of the wiser heads in Suva (yes, some still exist) might have paused to consider that Twomey knew them too well.

Nevertheless, Suva gave official agrément to Twomey’s appointment. (Agrément is the formal agreement by a receiving state that it’s prepared to accept a named individual as head of a diplomatic mission.) Obtaining such agrément before an ambassador or high commissioner is despatched to a post (in practice, before a name is public announced) is a firm requirement under the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations.

When Carr put out his statement on December 15, he was acting both with the agrément and the agreement of the Fiji Government. Suva had accepted Twomey’s nomination and this was seen as a sign that the process of diplomatic reconciliation could gather pace in line with the progress towards Fiji’s elections in 2014. Twomey was recalled to Canberra from her then post as Australia’s Ambassador to Russia so she could prepare to be in Suva in February. Now she sits in Canberra and waits.

The argument coming from Fiji is that the regime is angry that Australia continues to impose ‘smart sanctions’ that make it hard for servants of the regime to travel to or via Australia. Canberra argues that it has made the application of the travel ban more flexible and deals with each case individually. But the continuing application of the travel sanction does actually inconvenience the regime, which definitely amounts to a serious affront if you view the world from Suva using the Supremo’s understanding of how things should work.

The anger the regime has felt since the sanctions were imposed in 2006 trumps the interests served by the agreement for the return of the Oz High Commissioner. Not missing an opportunity to miss an opportunity, Suva has demonstrated its power by forcing Twomey to wait on its pleasure.

Following columns are going to examine the clear need for Australia to engage with Fiji’s New Order regime. But the continuing Suva silliness over the Oz High Commissioner is but one example among many of how difficult this engagement will be.

Graeme Dobell is the ASPI journalism fellow. Image courtesy of Flickr user john.trif.

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On Sulawesi, a brief, CIA-backed military rebellion in Manado was defeated in 1958, while communal conflict continues to erupt today around Poso, in the centre of the island. In West Java, the Darul Islam separatist movement expanded steadily in the 1950s to Sumatra, Sulawesi and Kalimantan, being finally brought under control in 1965.

To the east, sporadic fighting to form a breakaway Republic of South Maluku lasted from 1950 to 1963—a self-proclaimed government-in-exile still exists in the Netherlands. Further to the south, FALINTIL guerrillas fought for independence from the moment of Indonesia’s invasion of Timor-Leste in 1975 until the arrival of international troops 24 years later.

In the far eastern end of Indonesia, near its border with Papua New Guinea, the Free Papua Movement, or OPM, has been engaged in secessionist conflict since 1965. Hostilities continue today.

Keeping 250 million citizens, from over 300 ethnic groups, across thousands of islands stretching the distance from Sydney to Perth, aggregated into a single unitary state, still seems a tall order in 2013. But it works. And it’s in our vital national interest that it continues to work. We want our neighbour, the world’s fourth largest polity, to remain stable.

Our decision late last century in assisting East Timor’s independence from Indonesia was taken for all the right altruistic reasons. But the supervening consequences of East Timor still cast shadows over our relations with Indonesia. Our national self-interest was dealt a crushing body blow that we’re slowly recovering from. There’s nothing more sensitive or more sacred to Indonesians than their territorial integrity. In the popular and often-proclaimed phrase, Indonesian unity is considered harga mati – non-negotiable.

In the region around us, there could be only one thing worse for Australia than being viewed by a generation of our neighbours as a conspirator, complicit in the excision of East Timor from the map of Indonesia. And that’s if it happened again in Papua.

Among some observers and commentators, there’s a kind of bleak, almost fatalistic, anticipation that Indonesia is on track to repeat the same mistakes in its provinces of Papua and West Papua that led to overwhelming international support for East Timor’s separation. In the conventional wisdom, Papua will follow a similar path. This would be disastrous for Australia. And there’s a real danger this sense of inevitability could become self-fulfilling. Before that happens, we would do well to take stock of the situation and find ways to halt the runaway train that such thinking could create.

For starters, we need to give the elephant in the room a name and recognise the danger it poses. Yes, there’s risk involved in engaging with Indonesia on sensitive issues. But the risk of not doing so is greater, lest either side misread the interests and misjudge the intentions of the other. How much better to head off the strategic shock of policy failure in Papua, than trying to improvise when the problem becomes a crisis?

In most discussions between Australian and Indonesian officials, trespassing is forbidden on the subject of Papua and Indonesia’s poor handling until now of its social, political, security, economic and cultural challenges. Its sensitivity, especially in the light of the East Timor precedent, makes it a taboo topic. In the next part of this post, I’ll discuss the diplomatic challenges Australia has faced with Indonesia on Papua, point out the biggest hurdle both sides will need to clear in moving forward on the issue, and suggest why Papua isn’t necessarily the next East Timor.

Gary Hogan is a former Professor of Grand Strategy at the US National Defense University. He was the first foreigner to graduate from Indonesia’s Institute of National Governance (Lemhannas) and was Australia’s Defence Attaché to Indonesia 2009 to 2012. Image courtesy of Flickr user Alwita.

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The spike in Buddhist-Muslim clashes reminds us of the challenges faced by Myanmar in reining in sectarian and ethnic violence in the country. A military solution to civil unrest is not typical of democracy, a political ideal President Thein Sein is lauded for aspiring to. But it isn’t just the junta that need to address the Rohingya issue.

Myanmar’s age old anti-Muslim sentiment is spreading. Some Buddhist monks taking part in the violence are affiliated with the ’969 Movement’ responsible for mobilising much of the anti-Muslim sentiment. In late March, the army was sent in to Meiktila in central Myanmar to quell riots that spread through the city which left more than 20 people dead. Mobs spread to neighbouring towns, ‘destroying buildings and killing people’. An April Human Rights Watch report says the systematic targeted killing of Rohingya in Myanmar is tantamount to genocide; describing Myanmar soldiers digging mass graves and forcing people to dig their own. Deep-seeded sectarian conflict in Myanmar is being allowed to flourish under Myanmar security forces that play by their own rules, as Andrew Selth observes.

Bangladesh shares the Rakhine state border with Myanmar and houses a large cohort of Rohingya. The instability is spreading from the borderlands with Bangladesh to the West and into the country’s heartland. In Yangon on April 2, 13 Muslim students were burned in a suspected arson attack on a madrasa. It spreads still further in Central Asia, with scattered street and cyber protests refreshing coverage of the persecution. However, a recent protest conducted by All India Muslims Majlis-e-Mushawarat in New Delhi suggests a pan-Islamic sentiment may finally be creeping in on the tragedy of the Rohingya’s predicament, and fresh protests in Indonesia by Muslim cohorts calling for jihad could indicate its Southeast Asia trajectory.

As Myanmar opens up, ethnic and border issues will no longer be localised problems. Professor Peter Drysdale of ANU’s Crawford School notes the vast natural resource capacity of Myanmar and the economic and political opening of the country that will see further expansion of mining and infrastructure projects. This means more contact between persecuted ethnic groups in Myanmar and the outside world, as FDI floods into the country alongside aid and international media.

Genuine reform of Myanmar’s Army and Police forces is essential to legitimate and meaningful social, political and economic reform, and to see an end to the displacement of persecuted minorities. This can only happen from within Naypyidaw, aided by a veritable program of engagement from the international community. If Myanmar’s security forces remain decentralised it will continue to push issues of security and ethnicity around its plate.

Indonesia is being directly impacted by the Rohingya displacement. It could use its central role in ASEAN to move for serious consideration of Rohingya’s case for asylum, as other states in the region are affected as well. In fact Bangladeshi Foreign Minister Dipu Moni met with Indonesian Foreign Minister Natalegawa alongside the Bali process to discuss the Rohingya crisis.

Australian Foreign Minister Bob Carr and Marty Natalegawa chaired the Fifth Bali Process on People Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime on 3 April. Australia refugee processing policy has been criticised by the UN for breaches of International and Human Rights Law, and Indonesia has not signed up the UN Refugee Convention. This being said, Rohingya are not recognised as citizens in Myanmar, neighbouring Bangladesh, nor in Indonesia or Australia. This hinders their applications for asylum and eligibility for aid.

Australia is yet to commit to bankrolling an extended regional border patrol, or even helping to reduce the persecution of Rohingya. Gillard has announced $21m in aid this year, but it’s unclear exactly whose fists this will end up in. I question the vigour and shelf-life of any endeavour small change of this kind can create. Given the obvious disarray of Indonesia’s refugee processing procedures, Australia needs to seriously reconsider the terms of its partnership, and recalibrate its refugee processing policy in fall in line with international law. If border security and regional stability are Australian national security objectives, it must also give serious consideration to active engagement with Burmese forces, and soon.

Sarah Norgrove is a research assistant as ASPI. Image courtesy of Flickr user EU Humanitarian Aid and Civil Protection. 

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So far so good then for generating some momentum behind the bipartisan Australian aspiration of getting cosier with Jakarta. But the reality is that a significant number of impediments stand in the way of achieving genuinely closer defence engagement, notwithstanding the good intentions of chummy ministers. The four most substantial of these might be thought of as the four ‘Problem Ps’: priorities, politics, perceptions and Papua.

As a strategic priority, it’s a fact that Indonesia is more important to Australian security than we are to them. Australia is, and will remain, the unthreatening southern flank to Indonesia, but in Paul Dibb’s memorable words, the archipelago is the place ‘from or through which a military threat to Australia could most easily be posed’. The defence planning implications of this are profound and remain a consideration no matter how good the bilateral relationship. For its part, Indonesia’s strategic priorities remain focused on ASEAN, on China and on building a larger global role for itself as an emerging middle power. A non-aligned movement pedigree has left a residual mistrust in Jakarta of the idea of aligning too closely to any power but, because of its potential, other countries—India, the US, Japan and China to name four—are looking to build closer relations with Indonesia. When the big suitors come knocking why would you want to date homely Canberra? It’s emerging as a challenge for Australia to sustain the idea in Jakarta that our relationship with Indonesia deserves their priority.

A second risk is the potential impact of domestic politics in both countries on the bilateral relationship. In Australia it’s a sad fact that the issues of high public interest that most impact on relations do so in a negative way. Indonesia’s poor performance in controlling illegal people movements through its territory, the emotive debate around the live cattle trade and drug trafficking dominate media reporting and make for a difficult agenda for political interaction. In terms of Indonesian politics, there’s a widely held Australian view that we’re likely to be treated with less sympathy after President Yudhoyono completes his term.

This leads to my third ‘p’—perceptions. Negative stereotypes exist in both countries about the other. The Lowy Institute 2012 Poll of Public Opinion and Foreign Policy asked Australians to rate their ‘warmth’ level to a number of countries. Indonesia rated a distinctly cool 54 %, above Burma (50%) but below Egypt (56%). Similar scores have been registered in Lowy polls going back to 2006. Australia fared a little better in a poll of Indonesian sentiment, rating a ‘warmth’ level of 62% percent in 2012, up from 51% in 2006. Perceptions are malleable things and with effort governments can improve popular sentiment. But it doesn’t take much for Australians to get hot under the collar over, say, film footage of cruel abattoir practices in Indonesia or for Indonesians to picket the Australian embassy in Jakarta. Media coverage in both countries tends to stir negative perceptions. It will take a lot of political investment over many years to create a more realistic and positive set of perceptions.

The final problem ‘p’ is Papua, or rather misperceptions in both countries about that province. There’s a view in Indonesian military circles that the Australian Government has a secret ambition to somehow remove Papua from incorporation in the Republic. That’s simply not the case as far as Australian government thinking is concerned. It’s not in our strategic interest to promote the creation of another broken-backed micro-state in our neighbourhood. But there are clearly a number of NGOs and others who oppose incorporation and who will watch very carefully for signs of TNI and police ill-treatment of Papuans. It’s again a reality that the Indonesian military is at a different stage of its development in the treatment of people it regards as threats than is the ADF, for example. Recent reports about the alleged extra-judicial executions of four suspects in prison by Kopassus soldiers demonstrates that defence cooperation is a difficult field. What happens if Australian gifted C-130s are used to fly troops to Papua? That will be a test of the maturity of our strategic relationship.

These four problem areas complicating closer relations should in no way slow the effort to build a strategic partnership with Indonesia. What they demonstrate is that this is a challenging relationship, not one that can be set right by a handful of ministerial visits, but necessarily a task for long term development. It will take a huge effort and deep bipartisan political investment to bring the two countries closer.

Peter Jennings is executive director of the Australian Strategic Policy Institute. Image courtesy of Australian Minister for Foreign Affairs.

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But there are still hurdles. The man himself has brushed aside questions of whether he’ll run, shrewdly reminding enquirers that he’s elbow-deep in the city’s issues. And while Mietzner outlined the logical political gains for a nomination by the Indonesian Democratic Party – Struggle (PDI-P), Megawati Sukarnoputri’s party, ‘Ibu Mega’ could, on a whim, save the ticket for herself and take a third run for the top job. Megawati’s husband and PDI-P chief patron, Taufiq Kiemas, has also urged his own party to leave Jokowi out of the race.

But let’s, for a moment, assume the stars align, and Jokowi seizes his chance to ride the wave of popular support all the way to the Presidential palace. That would mean good things for Australia–Indonesia relations. So far, he’s shown a pragmatic approach to resolving issues, first as the mayor of Solo and now the governor of Jakarta. Known for his collaborative and consultative approach, he’s also keen to follow up regularly on decisions and keep the public service running efficiently, with the interests of citizens at the forefront. Last year, he introduced health care for Jakarta’s poor—something unthinkable before his time.

As mayor of Solo, Jokowi avoided a violent confrontation in 2005 with street vendors when plans were announced to remove them from Banjarsari Park. He reached out to their representatives to encourage dialogue. Both sides reached an agreement, with Jokowi offering incentives that provided for vendors’ needs including a new relocation site, public transport, education and training, tax breaks and loans.

Jokowi’s shown he can deftly balance the interests of big business and the little guy, so he comes with the right tools to navigate nationalist pressures in areas like trade—where tensions over cattle trade might remain. Canberra would also be looking to Jokowi with a hopeful eye for pragmatism and dialogue on Papua; although this might be a marginal issue for president responsible for a vast archipelago.

On military matters, Jokowi doesn’t have a long-standing relationship with TNI. But Mietzner believes the generals would fall into line provided Jokowi remains a darling of the people and stays out of their internal processes. It’s less clear how he’d perform on thornier issues like democratic reform or national-level corruption.

On the PR front, part of Jokowi’s appeal is that he’s seen as a civilian reformer, which might present a good opportunity to dispel Australian misperceptions of an ’authoritarian Indonesia’. After eight years of President SBY and 14 years of democratic transition, if the Lowy Institute’s 2011 poll (PDF) is to be believed, there’s still an image problem. It’s not incumbent on Jokowi to fix this, of course, but he might be part of the solution.

But this raises more questions for Australia: if Jokowi’s the ’it’ guy at home, would he be the ’it’ guy on the world stage? How comfortable would Australia be with a popular figure—Indonesia’s equivalent of Barack Obama—next door?

So far, there’ve been no clear indications from Jokowi what his foreign policy would be. And as I wrote earlier in the week, there are still many challenges that could fetter Indonesia’s ascent. As a ‘man of the people’, he could continue therefore to be focussed on domestic issues. Jokowi might even delve into foreign policy where it concerns the treatment of Indonesian workers overseas. Governor of Jakarta is one thing, but being Indonesia’s President is something else entirely. But even as a governor, there are signs of international awareness: he’s held his own bilateral meetings with a number of ambassadors. And what’s more, the international media have seized upon Jokowi’s fame. His political machinery would figure out how to further translate his domestic popularity to an international stage.

This is just one possible scenario of many, and each candidate will come with their own pros and cons. Eighteen months is a long time in politics, but watch Jokowi, no matter what he and others say about his candidacy in the meantime.

For now, reflecting on Jokowi’s immense popularity, pop culture appeal and his can-do attitude, it’s hard to keep the parallels with Obama at bay. Although these parallels are best understated, I’m reminded of an Aeon magazine article which explored the idea of Obama—with his cool and halus composure—as the US’ first ‘Javanese president’. Turning that idea on its head for a moment, as a rockstar candidate that signals an historic, new era in his country’s politics, could Jokowi be Indonesia’s first ‘Obama-esque’ president? Marcus Mietzner’s answer would be: yes, he can.

Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist. Image courtesy of www.jakarta.go.id.

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In terms of other domestic challenges, Stephen Sherlock of the ANU’s Centre for Democratic Institutions argued that Indonesia’s present political settings are characterised by a rather lacklustre line-up of presidential candidates and that an incomplete democratic transition would challenge the country’s rise. (In a later post, I’ll provide the flipside to this view on Indonesian politics.) Leonard Sebastian of the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies in Singapore highlighted other domestic issues, including the security ramifications of poverty, increasing decentralisation, trans-migration (and the ethno-religious tensions it sometimes brings) and lagging security sector reform as a counterweight to overly optimistic views of Indonesia’s development.

Turning to Indonesia’s foreign policy, the University of Melbourne’s Avery Poole looked at the ways in which democracy promotion has both shaped Indonesia’s diplomacy efforts and provided a balance to political Islam. Meanwhile, Mark Beeson (Murdoch University) and Will Lee (University of Western Australia) contended that Indonesia’s increasing democratic character might allow it to engage with other ‘middle powers’ like Australia, although, in practice, this was still limited to issues within the direct national interest. In responding to both presentations, the NSC’s Michael Wesley questioned the extent to which democracy informed Indonesian foreign policy. He argued that Indonesia’s increasingly democratic character hadn’t necessarily convinced the Australian public to warm to our near neighbour—a view supported by the Lowy Institute’s annual poll.

Looking more closely at Australia–Indonesia relations, Derry Habir of Bakrie University in Jakarta urged caution in getting carried away with Indonesia’s rise. In his view, corruption, competitiveness and growing resource nationalism were areas to watch. Together with NSC’s Chris Roberts, he argued that areas of the bilateral relationship like trade needed greater attention but, overall, there was reason to be positive. In terms of generating greater Australian interest at the grassroots level, Roberts even recommended sending newspaper editors to Indonesia to pique their interest.

Leonard Sebastian and I Made Andi Arsana from Gadjah Madah University in Yogyakarta outlined a number of maritime-related issues which are also challenging Indonesia’s rising trajectory, including complex territorial claims and the need to provide security for a vast archipelago and its sea lanes of communication. According to Arsana, the maritime boundary between Indonesia and Australia is one of several issues that must be addressed. Even though maritime boundaries have been settled, their management remains a big issue for the two neighbours in the future. It concerns maritime resource utilisation which requires collaboration between the two countries.

Mark Turner from the University of Canberra rounded off the discussion by raising broader philosophical questions about how we appraise the bilateral relationship. He wondered whether we worried about the relationship as a result of actual indicators or just as a matter of course. (I’d argue it’s probably a bit of both.)

Overall, one of the key messages of the workshop was that, as we rush towards embracing initiatives that hope to bring us closer to Indonesia, we might need to take a step back to better understand the complex nature of our neighbour’s ascent—and the factors that might hold it back. More specifically, this includes what role we might usefully seek to play; it might well be as a diplomatic or trading partner, or how Australia might adjust to a stronger and more influential regional partner. Nevertheless, convening a number of Australian, Indonesian and Singaporean scholars who, in front of an audience of policymakers and practitioners, grapple with these questions is certainly a good start. By consensus, the issues facing our near neighbour aren’t insurmountable, but they are pressing enough that a dose of realism about Indonesia becoming a great power on our doorstep is needed.

Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist. Image courtesy of Flickr user drhenkenstein.

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Add to that regional list, a short-term commitment to Tonga in 2006. After the riot that devastated Nuku’alofa, a small Australian force deployed under New Zealand command. The Tonga operation was judged a quick success but there was some Australian muttering about the tight rules of engagement that Wellington imposed on its troops, risking failure because what was to be a show of force might have been exposed as ‘a feint of force’.

The Australian and NZ armies have grown apart, according to Neil James of the Australia Defence Association, who has served as the senior Australian officer on exchange with the NZDF. Up until the 1980s, he notes, NZ Army officers got much of their early education on Australian soil, at Portsea or Duntroon. The two armies might work beside each other, but the last time they fielded a combined group in the field was a combined signals unit in 1993 during the Cambodia peace operation:

My point about the two armies growing apart is as much a personal, cultural and doctrinal one as it is an operational one. From 1911 to the mid 1980s the vast majority of Kiwi officers trained in Australia—and for those at Duntroon this was four years of close bondage with their Australian counterparts. Backed up by continuing close personal and professional relationships throughout their careers in both peacetime exchange postings, closely integrated overseas deployments (Malaya, Borneo, Vietnam, the ANZUK brigade in Singapore, SEATO, etc), and ANZUS exercises in both countries and Hawaii. This no longer happens. But even allowing for the nuclear imbroglio, the Kiwis began to resist joint deployments in UN peacekeeping after Cambodia because they felt that NZ did not get sufficient diplomatic recognition internationally when ‘submerged’ in larger Australian contributions.

James says if the two sides were serious about closer cooperation they could introduce some small admin changes that would signal a larger intent, such as making travel between the two countries a charge against the domestic not the international budget. As well, Australia should no longer charge New Zealand for sending officers for education in Oz:

The funding issue for Kiwis training in Australia is a delicate one. Our economic rationalist bean counters insist the Kiwis pay their way (as Singapore and Brunei do). They do not qualify for Defence Co-operation Program subsidy and would be insulted by the suggestion they do. At least the NZDF would. But they cannot now afford to send most of their officer cadets and staff college students to Australia. This is having detrimental long-term effects to both ADF-NZDF inter-operability and to the wider strategic relationship.

I’ve argued that Australia should accept that the Melanesian Arc is not so much the ‘arc of instability’ as our ‘arc of responsibility’ (PDF).

The Responsibility tag is far more than a proposal or an idea: it’s a description of what has actually happened in the Arc in recent decades. By its actions, Australia has clearly assumed the responsibility. And like it or not, New Zealand has had to come along—as it will be asked to do again in the future as the regional partner. This is the reality of what ‘best mates’ means for New Zealand in the South Pacific; the Kiwis will have a role in Melanesia because that is where Australia’s vital interests are eternally engaged.

By its actions, Australia (with New Zealand’s support) has demonstrated the ambition and the ambit of its security guarantee to the countries of the Arc. This is the enduring message of the different experiences in Bougainville, Timor and Solomon Islands. Those deployments also offer diverse models that can be drawn on for future needs. And, as Tonga showed, that security guarantee can extend to the whole of the South Pacific. The Australian guarantee to protect the Islands’ external security has turned into a far broader guarantee of internal security and stability—even into some form of commitment to the well being of the people; that is certainly the RAMSI model in Solomon Islands.

As Australia does its own version of the regional pivot post-Iraq and Afghanistan, there would always have been plenty to talk about in defining the future needs and demands involved in the ‘best mates’ relationship. What’s also changed is that the silences and the gaps in that Canberra–Wellington discussion can no longer be blamed on the US and thus easily avoided.

As the previous column discussed, the resurrection of the NZ alliance with the US will bring some long-taboo topics back to the table. Not least will be the argument about New Zealand as strategic liability, not asset, for Australia. If you ever want to see Paul Dibb spit chips, get him to explain his ‘strategic liability’ views of the Kiwis. Paul’s perspective was formed by fire during his time as a Defence Deputy Secretary and it’s a reminder that all the bitterness over the destruction of ANZUS is not quite spent in Canberra. Nor the doubts about Kiwi reliability.

For Australia, having two bilateral alliances—with the US and New Zealand—was both costly and complicated. But it also had some distinct advantages which are well understood in Canberra, even if they’re seldom acknowledged publicly.

In 1985 and 1986, Canberra argued that New Zealand should remain within ANZUS. But Australia wouldn’t push that view at the expense of any damage to its alliance with the US. Canberra, formally, said it wouldn’t mediate between Washington and Wellington. But any act to banish the Kiwis shouldn’t be seen as irrevocable: at some future date the third leg of ANZUS could be restored. For the time being, Australia would have two alliances—one with the US and one with New Zealand, but the two wouldn’t touch or intermingle. The breach meant that Australia and New Zealand were spared any real need to talk about a proper alignment, even merging, of their military capabilities. New Zealand’s status as alliance pariah, courtesy of its nuclear purity, drew clear boundary lines, preventing any discussion of deeper military integration with Australia. Any such move would bump up against the other, more important bilateral alliance with the US.

In his usual measured manner, Jim Rolfe, in 2007, outlined the Kiwi perspective on Canberra’s comfort with the two alliance structure that treated New Zealand as mates with limited privileges:

Many New Zealand officials believe that Australia is happy to have New Zealand out of the ANZUS system because this allows Australia to deal with the US on a bilateral basis rather than through the multilateral forum of ANZUS, in which its voice was diluted by New Zealand’s. There are also assertions that Australia is more restrictive in its dealings with New Zealand ‘to protect US interests’ than are either the United Kingdom or Canada. New Zealand officials also believe that the intelligence and information-sharing system between the five states (‘five eyes’) has on many topics turned into a ‘four eyes’ system, restricting the information to Australia, Canada, the United Kingdom and the US. Whether or not these assertions and beliefs are objectively accurate, they colour the relationships, especially that between New Zealand and Australia.

The colour of the relationship has changed recently. New Zealand is back as a de facto US ally and all can now be discussed. Canberra and Wellington can no longer use Washington as the excuse. The times—and economic necessity—mean Australia and New Zealand are again thinking about closer military cooperation and coordination, and even starting to ponder where the bilateral can reach towards trilateral.

The bilateral still has a lot of room for growth as the joint review of the Australia–New Zealand defence relationship makes clear.

Neil James says the two countries are very similar, but their differences have significant strategic policy effects:

We are a continent, they are two islands a long way from anywhere significant (including us). A 3000 nautical mile circle centred on Darwin runs through the DMZ on the Korean Peninsula, whereas a 3000 nautical mile circle centred on Wellington runs through Darwin.

They largely see themselves as a bi-cultural country and society whereas we see ourselves as a multi-cultural one. They strongly identify themselves as a South Pacific country whereas we see ourselves as an Asia-Pacific (and now Indo-Pacific) one. In a very similar manner to Ireland, and to some extent Canada, it is just too easy to bludge on the bigger neighbour between you and any possible existential or other serious military threat.

To illustrate the continuing gaps in the bilateral defence relationship, consider what Australia and New Zealand aimed for militarily as they emerged from their moment of greatest peril in the 20th century. The 1944 ANZAC Pact was what Australia and New Zealand thought they needed to do to respond to the hard lessons taught by Japan. None of the military aims outlined in the Pact have been met and today’s bureaucrats are aware of its existence but little driven by its provisions.

The treaty calls call for permanent machinery for military collaboration and cooperation:

1. continuous consultation in all defence matters of mutual interest
2. the organisation, equipment, training and exercising of the armed forces under a common doctrine
3. joint planning
4. interchange of staff
5. the co-ordination of policy for the production of munitions, aircraft and supply items, and for shipping, to ensure the greatest possible degree of mutual aid consistent with the maintenance of the policy of self-sufficiency in local production.

Not one of these aims could be marked as met. Looking over the 70 years to the ANZAC Pact and at the joint defence review of a year ago is to see recurrent hints of the eternal tension for Wellington between being kindred yet Kiwi: the ‘best mates’ versus the Kiwi Commandment (get the most possible from Oz, give away the least possible sovereignty).

The kindred yet Kiwi tension explains much that doesn’t happen between the militaries of Australia and New Zealand.

Graeme Dobell is the ASPI journalism fellow. Image courtesy of Department of Defence.

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Second, Defence should fund the creation of both an Australian and Indonesian institutional home for IKAHAN—the Indonesia-Australia Alumni Association, brainchild of CDF David Hurley—which has become a successful way to bring military and defence civilian’s together from both countries. The organisation offers a pool of ready talent to help drive the relationship. IKAHAN should be given a physical base in both countries and expand its role to sponsor exchanges and scholarship on strategic issues.

An obvious Australian home for an IKAHAN Centre would be at the Australian Defence Force Academy in Canberra. Here a core of Indonesia-related thinking and analysis should be established to deepen our engagement. The need for this stronger analytical focus on Indonesia is well reflected in the Asian Century White Paper, but it should not be focused solely on the university sector. There is a deep need for policy practitioners to build their knowledge of Indonesia and for this to reflect itself in strengthened analytical capabilities about Indonesia in Defence, Foreign Affairs and the intelligence community.

Third, we need more structured engagement for ADF officer cadets and graduates joining the Defence Department. If IKAHAN taps the commitment and knowledge base of senior personnel, we also must make sure that young Defence professionals have the opportunity to understand each other’s country and to build personal contacts. Defence should consider programs that would take each cadet graduating year and each new intake of Defence civilian graduates up to Indonesia for a couple of weeks. Early contact of this sort can help to establish connections that prove invaluable in times of crisis when political relations are difficult and communications poor.

These measures should be viewed as relatively low cost add-ons to the plan that is likely to be set out in the Defence White Paper for increasing operational cooperation between the Services, additional exercising and joint operational activities. What I have suggested here would amount to no more than an additional spend of about $10 million annually. In Defence terms this would be a small down-payment for a long-term return. It’s an investment that any likely future Australian government should endorse, as in time it would be able to draw on the good will generated when the next drug mule or live animal trading problem threatens to derail the relationship.

A final element in the defence bilateral relationship with Indonesia needs to be openly acknowledged: the fact is that it’ll take years to build a deeper level of trust between the two countries. Indonesia isn’t New Zealand. It’s possible to imagine strategic circumstances in which Jakarta and Canberra could well be seriously at odds. While no-one wishes that outcome, it would be silly to discount the possibility of deep differences emerging in the future. The intelligent thing to do would be to recognise this reality. Strong fences in the form of capable defence forces will make for more respectful neighbours.

As a footnote to this blog, I should mention that ASPI is well advanced in plans to establish a 1.5 track dialogue with Indonesia on strategic and defence matters. Also, with the support of Defence, we’ll also soon establish an Indonesian visiting fellow position, hopefully to be filled by one or two emerging strategic scholars every year.

 Peter Jennings is executive director of the Australian Strategic Policy Institute. Image courtesy of IKAHAN.

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Turning now to substance, a 3+3 might mean cutting back on the time spent talking about strict foreign affairs and defence matters, and discussion might become rather formulaic. But discussion of trade security challenges with the presence of all three ministers more adequately reflects the intertwined nature of our strategic interests, our respective national security plans and the evolving nature of economic linkages in our region. There’s a natural overlap between issues of security and trade; illegal fishing—an issue high on Indonesia’s agenda—is an example where defence capability and trade imperatives intersect. The Lombok Dialogue, after all, was a product of the AIMF.

It doesn’t even have to be confined to the Trade Minister. Perhaps the Minister for Defence Materiel could explore greater defence industry partnerships, especially in light of Indonesia’s push to revitalise its arms industry. The Minister for Education could sound out options to work with Indonesia to help it compete better regionally (it’s something ANU’s Indonesia Update Conference looked at in detail last year). In the opposite direction, Indonesia could help address our apparent Asian language literacy deficit.

Similarly, the Attorney General or Minister for Agriculture, Fisheries or Forestry could add plenty of value. On the Indonesian side, the Coordinating Minister for Legal, Political and Security Affairs could attend. Whatever the configuration, it’s about appraising the ends and means and deciding what would bring both partners the most dividends. And most of all, it’s about getting closer to a comprehensive bilateral partnership.

Of course there’ll be challenges in trying to coordinate three ministers a side, let alone four or five. And with the collapse of the Australia–Indonesia Ministerial Forum after 2008 and the 2+2 just off the ground, there’ll be, understandably, bureaucratic reluctance about going down that path again. But with both sides expressing great willingness to work together and so many areas of potential high-level cooperation, there are good odds of survival for this kind of configuration, if it’s given half a chance.

Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist. Image courtesy of the Australian Minister for Foreign Affairs.

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