The EU mission in Aceh:implementing peace

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi

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Occasional Paper

n°61December 2005

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The EU mission in Aceh:implementing peace

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi are currently Research Fellows at the EU Institute for Security

Studies.

Occasional Paper

n°61December 2005

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Contents

3

1

a

2

Summary 3

Introduction 5

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock Pierre-Antoine Braud 7

2.1 Reinforcing Acehnese identity: a resented integration into the Indonesian Republic 7

2.2 Spreading dissatisfaction: the impact of Indonesian economic governance 10

2.3 Paving the way for a popular separatist agenda: the impact of Indonesian military intervention 12

2.4 The tortuous road to negotiations: a by-product of changes in Indonesia 16

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management Giovanni Grevi 21

3.1 Progress on the ground 23

3.2 Negotiations in Brussels: money matters 24

3.3 The mandate and the structure of AMM 27

3.4 The EU presence and activity on the ground 29

3.5 The AMM and EU civilian crisis management: incremental progress 32

3.6 Conclusion 36

Annex 37

Abbreviations 37

.

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Summary The EU mission in Aceh: implementing peace

The EU Monitoring Mission in Aceh (AMM), Indonesia, marks a new step on the path of the Union

to becoming a global player. Endowed with a robust mandate including monitoring demobilisation,

the decommissioning of arms, the withdrawal of government forces, the reintegration of former com-

batants and the launch of a new political process, this new ESDP mission has so far provided an effec-

tive contribution in ending years of fighting and paving the way to sustainable peace.

The roots of the conflict date back a long way. In 1976, a separatist movement was created in

Aceh. The Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka-GAM), consisting of a couple of hundred

combatants, engaged in skirmishes against the security forces until 1979. The army easily defeated it.

Among the Acehnese population of four million people, however, resentment towards Jakarta was

strong. Economically, the province felt deprived of its resources, which accrued to the central govern-

ment. Based on Islam and its past history as an independent Sultanate, its strong regional identity

was challenged by a highly centralised government.

In 1989, GAM resumed its limited military activities. A massive campaign of military repression

ensued. In Acehnese society, massive human rights abuses led to growing support for a separatist

agenda. Following the fall of the dictatorship in 1998, the role of the military in Indonesian politics

began to be challenged. The Acehnese conflict became an instrument in the power struggle between

rival factions in Jakarta. The repressive methods of the military were contested wherever the army

resorted to them.

The changing balance of power in Jakarta opened a window of opportunity for a negotiated set-

tlement. The terms for an agreement were progressively elaborated, but their implementation failed

until 2004. Stalemate was unlocked by the heightened focus of the international community on Aceh

following the tsunami disaster in December 2004 and the conciliatory initiatives of the newly elected

President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. The authoritative involvement of Maarti Ahtisaari con-

tributed much to bringing the negotiations to a successful outcome in July 2005. The EU proved will-

ing and able to take over from there and launch a mission to monitor the peace agreement in the space

of a few weeks.

The AMM is the central component of a wider range of instruments and measures deployed by

the EU in Aceh. The added value of the European intervention consists in the effective coordination

of EU tools to both reconstruct the region ravaged by the tsunami and sustain the political process of

reconciliation by facilitating reintegration and consolidating local administration. Coordination

matters not only between EU actors but also with international partners. The AMM includes the

sizeable contribution of five countries from ASEAN. This is tangible evidence of the EU's commit-

ment to promoting regional organisations as a pillar of effective multilateralism.

1

Introduction

In the light of Indonesian history, popularclaims for independence in Aceh could be per-

ceived as a paradox. Unlike the two other mainterritories with separatist movements,1 Acehhad contributed significantly to the establish-ment of the Indonesian Republic in 1949. InAcehnese society, the broad consensus was thatAceh was at the vanguard of the nationalistmovement and incarnated essential Islamic val-ues in a country where Muslims comprised 88%of the total population.

However, a highly centralised system thatplayed down regional specificities quicklyappeared in Indonesia under the ‘GuidedDemocracy’ regime (1949-1967) and duringthe ‘New Order’ period (1967-1998). The mili-tary became pivotal in Indonesian politics andwas in fact the pillar of this centralised system.It fuelled strong resentment in several parts ofthe Indonesian archipelago, made up of18,000 islands inhabited by more than 300communities.2 In Aceh, a separatist movementwas created in 1976. However, it failed tomobilise Acehnese grievances and by 1979 hadbeen quashed by a campaign of militaryrepression.

Ten years later, in 1989, it was able to resumeits military operations. For sixteen years, theFree Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka-GAM) was involved in skirmishes with theIndonesian army. Although no major fightingoccurred, this low-intensity guerrilla warfarewas nevertheless accompanied by massivehuman rights abuses. Out of a population of 4million Acehnese, 10,000 people were killed,

while arbitrary arrests and destruction of prop-erty were common. During the 1990s, the mili-tary constantly opposed any negotiations. Afterthe end of the dictatorship in 1998, attempts toreach a political settlement failed. As with otherconflicts within Indonesia, the military con-stantly advocated that the rebellion be crushed.However, the changing balance of power withinthe army and between civilian and military pow-ers has gradually enlarged opportunities for apeace settlement. By focusing internationalattention on Aceh, the tsunami tragedy ofDecember 2004 fostered conditions favourableto a political approach to this conflict. Althoughan agreement was signed in August 2005between GAM and the Indonesian government,its implementation was conditional on an effi-cient monitoring mechanism in order to over-come distrust between the parties.

By the time the Government of Indonesiaand the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) signed anhistorical Memorandum of Understanding(MoU) in Helsinki on 15 August 2005, puttingan end to the conflict in the Indonesian regionof Aceh, progress towards launching a joint EU-ASEAN monitoring mission to ensure that theterms of the agreement were respected wasalready well under way. This was made possibleby a rather unconventional, but effective,approach to the launching of the Aceh Monitor-ing Mission (AMM).

Establishing the AMM required proceduraland budgetary creativity and fast action on thepart of Brussels-based actors, working in coop-eration with various proactive national govern-

5

1 East Timor and Irian Jaya, the former Netherlands New Guinea. East Timor was a Portuguese colony until 1975. It was then invaded andannexed by Indonesia. After four decades of conflict, a referendum held in 1999 paved the way for independence, which became official in2002. Irian Jaya was invaded by the Indonesian army in 1961 and annexed to Indonesia in 1969. 2 The Javanese represent 45% of the Indonesian population. The Acehnese population represents 4 million people out of a total of 240 millionIndonesians.

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ments. This should be welcomed as evidence ofthe ability to respond to an urgent request forEU intervention, in the absence of the financialand logistical means required for timely plan-ning and implementation.

An analysis of the decision-making process,however, reveals that procedural, and above allbudgetary, craftsmanship is not sustainable inthe long term. Certainly, flexibility should be aprerequisite when facing up to the new chal-lenges confronting ESDP, notably when itcomes to operations. Indeed, while preventivestrategies and early warning can anticipate oravoid crises, crisis management is an inher-ently reactive and unpredictable domain ofaction.

Precisely because of that, however, it isessential that sound procedures and adequateresources are in place to enable decisions to betaken quickly followed by their prompt execu-tion. In the case of the EU, success will depend inmost cases on maximising the synergy betweenall the instruments available to the Union,whether they fall within the remit of CFSP orwithin the competences of the Community.When it takes action in the world, the Union is

perceived as one. Success, failure, determina-tion, professionalism, competence and expert-ise are all attributed not to separate institutionalactors but to the Union as such.

The European Security Strategy called for amore capable and more coherent Europe.According to the Strategy, ‘all necessary civilianresources’ need to be brought to bear in crisisand post-crisis situations. Having created differ-ent instruments with their own distinctivestructure and rationale, the ‘challenge now is tobring together the different instruments andcapabilities’ from Member States, ranging fromEuropean assistance programmes to militaryand civilian capabilities. In the run-up to theAMM, some resistance emerged against match-ing these words fully with deeds, and bridginginstitutional divides while respecting the pre-rogatives of each body.

Those who worked hard to get the missiongoing, and succeeded, should be applauded forovercoming institutional and financial barriers.But their efforts only serve to underscore thefact that serious thinking has to be devoted tothe long-term viability of the decision-makingand budgetary framework.

The EU mission in Aceh: implementing peace

2

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock Pierre-Antoine Braud

2.1 Reinforcing Acehnese identity: a resented integration into the Indonesian Republic

In the mid-1940s, as the Indonesian nationalistmovement was fighting for independence, Acehbecame a rear base which provided significantfinancial support to the nationalist forcesopposing the Dutch colonial power.1 In a classicdivide-and-rule strategy, the colonial authori-ties offered a federal state status to the Acehneseleaders. This could have been a first step towardsindependence for this region. Indeed, Aceh hadfor a long time been an independent state. Thecolonial power conquered it in the late 19th andearly 20th centuries after thirty years of war.2However, the Acehnese leadership turned downthe proposal. A strong regional identity basedon Islam, a long history of resistance to the colo-nial conquest and the memory of a pastautonomous state were not in this case con-ducive to a separatist agenda.

On the contrary, these factors were part ofthe emerging sense of Indonesian identity inAcehnese society: Aceh perceived itself to be anationalist vanguard, joining a common strug-gle, hence expressing its solidarity with otherMuslims of the Dutch Indies. Although itemerged in the mid-1970s, it was not until the1990s that the separatist agenda gained exten-sive support in Acehnese society and among its

local elites. Reversing the rationale of the1940s, Acehnese regional identity and its ‘cul-ture of resistance’ were then often consideredin Jakarta as favouring a separatist agenda.

As with many of the various conflicts occur-ring in Indonesia, the central power focused onspecific regional or local issues in its efforts tointerpret the situation. As far as the latter wasconcerned, local leaders were manipulatingpopulations by exploiting regional distinctivecharacteristics in Eastern Timor, Irian Jaya, thearchipelagos of Moluccas or Sulawesi, in theprovinces of Riau (central Sumatra) or Kali-matan (Borneo). Such arguments overlooked acrucial issue: resistance encountered by anauthoritarian state-building process identifiedwith a Javanese power,3 based on a highly cen-tralised economic and political system of gov-ernance. This process did not only affect localelites who lost a significant part of their influ-ence; it trickled down to ordinary people, asmilitary and administrative apparatus becamemore present in daily life. Consequently, theprevious social order was challenged, while eco-nomic policy often contributed to antagoniselocal communities with regard to the land issueand limited alternative economic prospects.Dissatisfaction and resentment against thecentral power accumulated steadily. Acehneseregional identity was altered and became antag-onistic to national identity.

Gradually, significant obstacles appeared tochallenge the idea of Aceh becoming part of

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1 Tim Kell, The Roots of the Acehnese Rebellion 1989-1992 (New York: Ithaca, Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1995) p.10.2 Aceh began to be part of the trade routes between China, Africa and Middle-East from the 9th century onwards. In the 14th century, itbecame a regional power, which controlled the trade routes across the Malacca straits. In the 16th century, a coalition of rival regional powersand Portugal defeated its army. Although it remained an independent entity, it re-emerged as a regional power in the 18th century, until theDutch colonial army defeated and annexed the Sultanate.3 During the era of the Suharto regime (1967-1998), the toll of dead stemming from this process has been estimated at 750,000. Cf. BenedictAnderson (ed.), Violence and the State in Suharto’s Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell South East Asia Publications, 2001).

4 Jacques Bertrand, Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), p.166.5 The leader of the Darul Islam in Aceh was himself a ulama and the former military governor during the Independence war. Tim Kell, op.cit., p.11.6 Kees van Dijk, Rebellion under the banner: Darul Islam in Indonesia (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981), pp.326-327. They were thus resumingtheir past role in resisting the colonial conquest and in contributing to the nationalist cause.

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Indonesia, as a consequence of intertwiningdynamics between increasing mistrust towardsJakarta stemming from economic and politicalmisgovernance, an evolving sense of regionalidentity based on a distinctive Islamic identityand anti-Javanese feelings, and revived memo-ries of past glory and violence. These combinedelements facilitated the emergence of an armedmovement as a legitimate way of contesting thestranglehold of the central power.

In spite of their contribution to the inde-pendence struggle, Acehnese elites graduallyretreated into a regionalist agenda, which wasreinforced by a reasserted regional identity.Two key political phases paved the way for suchan evolution.

In the aftermath of Indonesian independ-ence, constitutional debates among increas-ingly divided nationalist and Islamic figureswere concluded in favour of the former, led bySukarno, the first Indonesian president.Indonesia did not become an Islamic state.Acehnese leaders, as well as several Islamic fig-ures in Indonesia, considered this evolution asa major setback. It weakened their allegiance tothe new central power, as their ‘nationalism wasstrongly enmeshed with the ideals of an Islamicstate’.4 One of Aceh’s major motives for joiningthe nationalist cause disappeared; a feeling ofbetrayal emerged with regard to the new centralpower.

This was particularly resented among theulamas, the Islamic clerics who gained a crucialinfluence in Aceh because of their key role inthe nationalist struggle. As the traditional elite– the uleebalang – allied itself to the colonialpower, adhering to the nationalist cause alsoenabled the ulamas to evict the latter from localpower. In Aceh, the 1940s led to a dual phe-nomenon: expelling the Dutch authorities,then transforming the local governance to thebenefit of the ulamas and their kinsmen, hence

reinforcing the Islamic identity of Aceh. Localpower, social order, and religion got entangled.When the Indonesian ministry of religionrefused to recognise the religious courts in1950, this was thus challenging a power base ofthe ulama, their religious beliefs, as well as partof the social order in rural areas. Such a deci-sion was to pave the way for an institutionalisedjudiciary, instead of local customary law. Itsimplementation was entangled with religiouspractices and institutions: arbitrating villageaffairs was the responsibility of a group of eld-ers and prominent figures leading the five dailyprayers.

A second initiative from Jakarta fuelled dis-trust towards the central power and furtherchallenged the power of the local elite. In 1950,one year after independence, the briefly agreedfederation was dissolved by Jakarta. The feder-alist agenda that was promoted by the Acehneseelite was defeated in favour of a unitary state. Inorder to implement this policy, Jakarta reas-signed a significant number of Acehnese mili-tary and civil servants without any prior consul-tation. They were mostly sent to other parts ofSumatra Island, while non-Acehnese wereappointed in Aceh. The administrative struc-ture headed by the Acehnese during the fiveyears of the nationalist struggle was further dis-mantled when Aceh province was included in alarger province of North Sumatra in 1950.

As both their ideals of the Indonesian stateand their local power base were challenged, theAcehnese elites – ulamas, civil servants, and mili-tary – joined the rebellion of Darul Islam/TentaraIslam Indonesia (the Indonesian Islamic Army).5This rebellion started in 1953 in west Java andaimed at transforming Indonesia into anIslamic state. Thanks to the ulama networkswithin local society,6 the Aceh branch of theDarul Islam drew widespread popular support.As in the 1940s, seceding from Indonesia was

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

not part of the Acehnese agenda.7 Establishing anational state compatible with local issuesremained the main motive for participating inthis rebellion.

Nevertheless, it also reinforced a sense of adistinctive identity in Aceh. Although there wasonly limited fighting in the province until theend of this rebellion in 1962,8 intermittent sys-tematic slaughters of male civilians by theIndonesian army revived memories of past vio-lence that occurred a generation earlier whileresisting the colonial power.9 Central powers,either Dutch or Indonesian, could be perceivedas a recurrent cause of unleashed violence; thisperceived common experience not only createda lasting mistrust, but also reinforced a per-ceived common experience of violence as partof Acehnese identity.

The Indonesian army was not able to quellthe rebellion; a negotiated settlement withsome of the rebels was made in 1957. Althoughit facilitated an end to the conflict, it also con-tributed to enhancing the distinctiveness ofAcehnese identity; moreover, the Acehneseelites relinquished their national claims andfocused on local power and governance. Acehwas granted special status, re-establishing it asa region. After having been removed from theregion, Acehnese civil servants and soldierswere reappointed to Aceh; an Acehnese gover-nor was appointed and chosen within an organ-isation that supported the rebellion. A homo-geneous Acehnese administration was put inplace. Furthermore, it was agreed that Islamiclaw was to be implemented in Aceh; this wasfully recognised in 1962.

The events of 1965-66 that occurred inIndonesia might provide an example of thisredefined agenda focusing on regional issues.Challenged by part of the army, PresidentSukarno and his ‘Guided Democracy’ regimewas maintaining a precarious power balancebetween political parties and the military. Hebenefited from tacit and vital support from thePKI, the Indonesian Communist Party. In thewake of an attempted coup attributed to the PKI,General Suharto and his faction launched acampaign of repression against the PKI, whichunleashed mass violence.10 In Aceh, ulamasissued a fatwa that legitimised the murders of‘atheist’ communists.11 Resorting to violencewas validated: Muslim youth organisations par-ticipated in the mass violence along with theIndonesian army. Thousands of people werekilled in the name of anti-communism. As fre-quently happens in a mass violence situation,the overall legitimisation for the slaughters pro-vided an umbrella for murdering individuals formotives linked to underlying cleavages andresentments. As PKI was locally regarded asbeing a Javanese organisation, Javanesemigrants could also be targeted in slaughtersthat reflected Acehnese hostility towards thecentral power, associated with the Javanese.12

Nevertheless, these Muslim youth associa-tions contributed to providing popular sup-port for the army, contradicting the Acehneseagenda at the national level. The Indonesianarmy was the pillar of anti-federalist policy andstrongly opposed the granting of specialregional status. However, local agendas led to ade facto support to the army. Following this out-

7 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.164.8 Geoffrey Robinson, ‘Rawan is as rawan does: the origins of disorder in New Order Aceh’, in Benedict Anderson (ed.), op. cit., p.216.9 In 1913, the colonial power was fully in control of Aceh, after 30 years of war and guerrilla warfare. 10,000 colonial troops were killedduring this period, while 75,000 Acehnese lost their lives, i.e. 15% of the Acehnese population. Cf. Henk Schulte Nordholt, ‘A Genealogy ofViolence’, in Freek Colombijn and Thomas Lindblad (eds.), Roots of Violence in Indonesia. Contemporary violence in historical perspective (Leiden:KITLV Press, 2002), p.36.10 The Indonesian army later assessed that 800,000 communists – or alleged communists – were killed in 1965-66. On this period, cf.Benedict Anderson and Ruth McVey, A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell University, 1971);Robert Cribb, The Indonesian Killings 1965-1966 (Clayton, Victoria, 1990).11 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.28.12 Cf. Robert Cribb, op. cit.; Harold Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 1988).

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Pierre-Antoine Braud

13 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.32.14 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.169.15 John Bowen, ‘Narrative Form and Political Incorporation: Changing Uses of History in Aceh, Indonesia’, Comparative Studies in Society andHistory, vol. 31, no. 4 (October 1989).16 James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990).

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break of mass violence, General Suharto andthe army toppled Sukarno. They establishedthe ‘New Order’ regime in 1967. An over-cen-tralised government was steadily established.As in 1950, Jakarta reneged on past agreementsand reinforced distrust towards negotiated set-tlement as a way to guarantee regional specifici-ties in Aceh. In the early 1970s, the specialregional status of Aceh was de facto erased. Anew law on regional administration wasadopted in 1974. It ‘laid the ground for a tight-ening central control over the composition ofregional administrations’ and was consideredby the military as an ‘antidote to disintegrativeforces’:13 provincial governors were appointedby the President, and their accountability to theprovincial assemblies was abolished. Instead oftheir previous roles – advocating for regionalinterests to Jakarta – they became representa-tives of the central power. In order tostrengthen its control over regions, the innercircles of the ‘New Order’ regime allowed partof the local elites to join their patronage net-works. Some Acehnese were thus able to rise toprominent positions in the administration andthe military.14

Moreover, the regime promoted the emer-gence of a new technocratic elite, both at thenational and local levels. Local administrationsthen became tools of the government to imple-ment policies decided in Jakarta without signif-icant prior consultation. This extreme centrali-sation meant that Jakarta had become the onlyway to access power and wealth. As a conse-quence, local elites were competing for supportfrom Jakarta and became increasingly discon-nected from local populations. In Aceh, the ula-mas also joined the patronage networks ofJakarta by adhering to an ulama national coun-cil. Moreover, a significant proportion ofAcehnese technocrats belonged to ulama fami-lies. A certain consensus established itselfamong the various local notables; the popula-

tion was deprived of any intermediaries to con-vey its concerns to Jakarta.

Part of the local elite did not fully relinquishits local agenda. However, reshaping the past his-tory of Aceh became one of the remaining issueson which they could have an impact. Some influ-ential ulamas wrote and disseminated a consen-sual history of the past glory of Aceh. The fight-ing and violence in which the former Sultanateengaged in order to establish its control overAceh were sidelined; the religious role of Aceh inspreading Islam in the current Indonesian archi-pelago was regularly highlighted. This rebuild-ing of history reduced local cleavages betweencommunities, in particular between the hinter-land and the coastal areas.15 This further rein-forced the sense of distinctiveness of theAcehnese and became part of the ‘hidden tran-scripts’16 – an unofficial history which waswidely disseminated among the population andwhich subverted a national discourse allegedlybuilding unity among Indonesians.

Moreover, a high level of grievance and dis-satisfaction stemming from Indonesian eco-nomic policy further sustained this ‘hiddentranscript’. It added to memories of violence,political mistrust, and an entrenched sense ofAcehnese separateness and distinctiveness:without being perceived by Jakarta, there was agrowing gulf between Acehnese society and thecentral power.

2.2 Spreading dissatisfaction: the impact of Indonesian economic governance

Like many decolonised countries, Indonesiaadopted an import-substitution strategy as akey principle of its economic policy. Industrial-isation was based on creating public companies

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

in strategic spheres, while trade barriers wereput in place in order to favour the developmentof national entrepreneurs. In fact, its imple-mentation created monopolies and reorientedtrade routes towards Java. Moreover, it becamean engine for clientelist networks and a pillar ofthe political system. Jakarta’s inner circles ofpower resorted to an extremely centralisedpolitical and economic system to favour theirallies and cronies. Well-connected private con-glomerates established monopolies on themost profitable markets, while appointmentsin the main public companies were politicallymotivated. Thanks to its dominant influence,the military benefited from this system by rais-ing extra-budgetary revenues via senior officersappointed in public companies or its own ‘pri-vate’ companies.17 Beyond controlling theinternal market, this policy was also based onexporting raw materials, gas and oil, as well asagricultural products. Without connections tothe inner circles and their extended networks inthe various provinces, limited economic oppor-tunities remained.

Like several regions of Indonesia, Aceh suf-fered significant consequences of this system ofeconomic governance. It affected a large rangeof people involved in local economic activities,from fishermen to petty traders and peasants. Aformer regional trade centre, Aceh became aprovince with fading economic prospects forits population. Its natural resources wereexploited to the benefit of the inner circles inJakarta, while limited investments were madelocally. This further reinforced and spreadresentment towards Jakarta, increasingly per-ceived as a predatory power.

In 1977, a liquefied natural gas refinerybegan to exploit offshore gas in the Lhokseu-mawe area, on the northern coast of Aceh andthe former centre of the Acehnese kingdom in

the 14th century. By the end of the 1980s, Acehrepresented 30% of the country’s oil and gasexports. Around the refinery, an industrial zonewas created, where fertilizer, petrochemicals orcement plants were installed. All these produc-tion centres were exporting to South-East Asiaand Japan. This soon turned into a key symbolof ‘Jakarta’s exploitation’. These capital-inten-sive industries provided limited employmentopportunities. Requisite skills were not avail-able locally. Thus workers were ‘imported’ fromother areas of Indonesia, in particular Java. Theindustrial zone and its suburbs were perceivedas a ‘rich ghetto of migrants’. This was in starkcontrast to the living conditions of some ofAcehnese who lacked access to water and elec-tricity.18 For some local inhabitants, the indus-trial zone ‘only produced large-scalepollution’.19 Actually, pollution contaminatedthe sea and affected fish stocks, with the resultthat 60% of the fishermen went under thepoverty line. Some peasants were also affected,when the industrial zone was installed andenlarged. They were evicted from their land;compensation was promised but never reachedthe displaced people; no infrastructures werebuilt, except for in the industrial zone.20

In other part of Aceh, the log industry led tosimilar resentment. Its development deprivedlocal villagers from having access to forest andpasture land. Workers were often non-Acehnese. In a way typical of the Indonesianeconomic governance, these companies oftenbelonged to Chinese businessmen associatedwith Jakarta’s inner circles.21 In the view ofmany Acehnese, alien entrepreneurs supportedby an alien power were exploiting Acehneseresources.

Two traditional categories of the Acehneseeconomy were also affected by Jakarta’s poli-cies: merchants and peasants. The trade barri-

17 Angel Rabasa and John Haseman, The Military and Democracy in Indonesia. Challenges, Politics and Power (Washington DC: Rand, 2002),pp.16-17.18 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.14-15.19 Ibid. p.17.20 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.222.21 Leon Jones, The Security Disturbances in Aceh During 1990 (Victoria, Moniah Asia Institute, 1997), p.21.

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22 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.26.23 Leon Jones, op. cit., pp.8 and 10.24 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.170.

12

ers disrupted traditional trading links with theMalaysian Peninsula. Besides, small manufac-turing businesses had to trade via Medan port,in central Sumatra, as the Lhokseumawe portwas now exclusively specialised in the export ofgas and industrial products. In spite of the costof shipping from Java, some of its entrepre-neurs were able to be competitive, as they couldavail of a corrupt licence system of imports.Formerly a well-connected trade route, Acehnow became a remote commercial area.

The peasantry also had to contend with theconsequences of the ‘development policy’implemented by Jakarta. From an economicpoint of view, Jakarta considered that Acehshould be a ‘rice barn’ for Sumatra, while a con-cession system was supposed to developexport-oriented agriculture. The increased pro-duction of rice led to a fall in its price. Whileprices of commodities were rising, producerswere impoverished. Furthermore, limited alter-natives to agriculture meant that 70% of thepopulation had no choice but to live off theland, while local demography brought about afurther fragmentation of properties. In such acontext, absent landlords – living in Jakarta orMedan – plantations and the ‘transmigrantprogramme’ were additional causes of resent-ment. The ‘transmigrant programme’ wasdesigned to support settlers establishing them-selves in the area in order to increase agricul-ture production. In Aceh, tens of thousands ofsettler families arrived in the 1970s and 80s.22

They were able to benefit from plots of2.5 hectares and basic infrastructures. In aregion where infrastructures were lacking andthe average size of property was lower than 1hectare, they were perceived as a favouredgroup. As most of them came from Java, socialand identity factors once again became entan-gled as factors of resentment.

The relative wealth of the past, stemmingfrom the production and exports of rubber, tea,coffee or pepper, was fading. Its memory was

associated with the past independence of Acehor its de facto autonomy during the Indepen-dence war.

However, such resentment did not turn intoa large-scale confrontation. It was limited tosporadic incidents – a couple of burnt logtrucks, anti-Chinese campaigns (as they wereallegedly corrupting Acehnese society byimporting prostitution, alcohol or sellingpork), or rare and rapidly quelled protest cam-paigns, such as calls urging people not to paytheir taxes.23 Gaining access to clientelist net-works appeared to have been a higher priority.A local elite loyal to Jakarta was thus able tocontain resentment and hinder popular sup-port for open confrontation. In the mid-1970s,they significantly contributed to isolate theFree Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka-GAM) and its first attempt to launch a sepa-ratist armed guerrilla group.24

2.3 Paving the way for a popular separatist agenda: the impact of Indonesian military intervention

The GAM guerrilla army has always been mili-tarily weak. Both in the late 1970s and in the1990s, its military actions were limited to skir-mishes with military or police forces. GAM wascreated in 1976. Two years earlier, its leader,Hassan di Tiro, returned to Aceh and alongwith an Acehnese group mainly formed of‘intellectuals’, civil servants and small busi-nessmen, prepared an armed movement. DiTiro was himself a former representative inNew York of Darul Islam. A couple of hundredcombatants were gathered, with a limited num-ber of weapons. In the 1970s, his movementneither benefited from significant popularsupport, nor from foreign aid. Lacking these

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

two crucial supports of any guerrilla move-ments, GAM was easily crushed by the militaryand their local allies among the Acehnese elite.However, while di Tiro left Aceh in 1979, a cou-ple of dozen combatants remained in the cen-tral mountainous and forest area. Even if nomilitary actions were launched in the 1980s,the continued existence of these local remnantsof GAM have provided an argument for thismovement to refer to a ‘war of thirty years forindependence’.

GAM activities resumed in 1989. Itremained a small armed group of a couple ofhundreds of combatants. Dozens of recentlydismissed military and police officers joined150 combatants who were reported to havebeen trained in Libya.25 Nevertheless, as in the1970s, GAM did not benefit from external sup-port in the 90s. It also failed to coalesce withother Indonesian rebel movements. Di Tirotried without success to establish links withFretilin, the Eastern Timorese movement fight-ing for independence.26 In the 1990s, re-estab-lishing an Islamic Sultanate was a key elementof GAM propaganda. However, GAM did notconnect itself with the Jemaah Islamiyah, theIndonesian organisation linked to Al-Qaeda.27

The Acehnese separatist movement remainedan isolated and weak armed group in the 1990sand early 2000s, which could not secure regularsupply lines to enlarge its number of weapons.In the early 1990s, seizing 21 weapons from amilitary unit was one of its major actions…28

Murders of isolated soldiers occurred fromtime to time, while attacks against police sta-tions and government buildings, arsons or riots

could be attributed to or claimed by GAM.29

Rather than implement Sharia law, GAMfocused its propaganda on local issues: allegeddiscrimination against the Acehnese inemployment and administration, exploitationof natural resources by Jakarta, stigmatisationof Javanese settlers, no payback for Aceh’s par-ticipation during the struggle for independ-ence.30 Posters, slogans and leaflet campaignsfrequently threatened Javanese residents andenjoined them to leave Aceh. Rather than aimto create an Islamic realm, GAM held up Bruneias a model for an independent Aceh.

In spite of its weaknesses, GAM benefitedfrom a positive image in parts of Acehnese soci-ety. Myths around GAM were made up amongAcehnese students on their campus. Thesemyths were in continuity with the heroicimages of past heroic fighters – against theDutch or during Darul Islam – while separatistfighters were believed to have ‘magical’ powers,such as becoming invisible or invulnerable tobullets.31 These stressed both discontentagainst national authorities and the positiveimage of warriors in Acehnese society.

Nevertheless, in 1989, most of the Acehnese‘were not supportive of the idea of an independ-ent state, but they saw an opportunity to sharein common grievances against the govern-ment’.32 GAM could be an umbrella underwhich accumulated resentment could beexpressed. This was not necessarily leading toactive commitment towards a separatistagenda. However, the separatist agenda steadilygained widespread support in the 1990s. Morethan GAM, the Indonesian army and its prac-

25 Di Tiro participated in Libyan-sponsored organization when he based himself in Tripoli.26 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.219.27 It might stem from distinct practices and interpretations of Islam. In Aceh, Islamic practices seem to be entangled with traditional‘cultures’, while taking into account local interests. For example, cropping or using marijuana is considered to comply with Islamic rules,as marijuana is not mentioned in the Quran. This production often provides supplementary incomes to peasants. The Jemaah Islamiyahsent combatants to another Indonesian conflict, in the Moluccas. Cf. ICG reports on Indonesia.28 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.10.29 Such incidents were not uncommon in Aceh in the 80s. Unpopular institutions from time to time crystallised the hostility of mobs in thewake of a localised incident. Cf. Leon Jones, op. cit., p.9.30 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.1 et Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.224.31 Leon Jones, op. cit., pp.10 and 21.32 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.172.

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33 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.11.34 In the Acehnese interpretation of Islam, alcohol is prohibited, but not marijuana. As it is not mentioned in the Koran, cropping andexporting it was said to be licit from a religious point of view. It formed part of their supplementary income for many peasants. 35 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., pp.236-237.36 Regarding the wide range of abuses committed by the military, cf. Human Right Watch reports and International Crisis Group, Indonesia:Impunity Versus Accountability for Gross Human Rights Violations, Asia Report n°12, February 2001.

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tices played a crucial role in this development.The Indonesian army resorted to systematicterror strategies. Such an approach did notderive from an assessment of GAM politicaland military threats. As for East Timor, IrianJaya or protest movements, systematic repres-sion was the usual response of the military toany challenges. Dynamics within the militaryand the role of the military in Indonesian poli-tics at the national level were leading to similarrepressive responses, which did not take intoaccount assessments of local dynamics andissues. Two dynamics within the military dom-inated the decision-making: the balance ofpower and rivalries within the institution, anda gradually developed doctrine of counter-insurgency, which was crystallising a long his-tory of violence.

In 1989-90, the military region commanderwas playing down the various incidents inwhich GAM might have been involved. Clasheswere ‘groundless rumours’, which were notcausing major security disturbances.33 Accord-ing to the authorities, the increased number ofincidents stemmed from anti-criminality oper-ations, in particular against marijuana crop-pers.34 In August 1990, his reappointment else-where was a de facto removal; central commanddecided and directed from Jakarta a militarycampaign. Military reinforcement was sent tocrush the ‘terrorists’. It was no longer an issueof law and order, but a national security matter.More than the local situation, such anapproach enabled the central military com-mand to reinforce its control over an outlyingregion. Both the types of units sent to Aceh andthe profiles of new officers in the province illus-trated this policy. Two types of elite units weredeployed in Aceh: Special Forces and StrategicReserve Unit. Most of the officers holding keypositions in these units had close relations withthe military inner circles. In the early 1990s, the

son-in-law of President Suharto, PrabowoSubianto, was himself appointed to Aceh at atime when his influence was rising in the army.Like Prabowo, several of these officers had pre-viously implemented repression in Timor, orhad even served in units deeply involved in the1965-66 slaughters.35 Their experience andtraining in implementing brutal methodsframed the repressive policy. This put to an endto the limited efforts to solve the conflictthrough negotiation.

Statements by the military authorities sig-nificantly changed; a security matter was con-sidered as justifying harsh methods. In Novem-ber 1990, the military region commanderstated to a Reuter journalist that he ‘ha[s] toldthe community, if you find a terrorist, kill him.There is no need to investigate him [...] If theydon’t do as you order them, shoot them on thespot, or butcher them. The people know theunwritten laws so they won’t kill anyone who isnot in the wrong. Well, one or two maybe, butthat’s the risk’. Answering a question on a massgrave, he said that ‘the grave certainly exists butI don’t think it could have been two hundredbodies. It’s hard to tell with arms and heads allmixed up’.

Such statements were in line with the mili-tary methods deployed. Units of Special Forcesinitiated the burning of house whose inhabi-tants were suspected of being members ofGAM. Night-time raids and house-to-housesearches became a routine. Arbitrary arrestswere followed by torture. Some women whowere allegedly GAM members were raped. Pub-lic executions took place. Dead bodies of ‘disap-peared’ people were abandoned on the sides ofroads.36 Crossing military checkpoints becamea source of fear, as recurrent shootings by themilitary occurred. In towns, people began toavoid going out after 8.00 pm, as they wereafraid of arbitrary arrests. Crossing the path of

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

soldiers became a major security concern. Inaddition to the military activities, GAM wasoccasionally attacking trucks. Combinedcauses of insecurity led to a significant drop intraffic on the roads; prices increased. Localprominent figures called on the military torestrain and discipline themselves, butremained unheard.37 In the name of ‘civil-mili-tary cooperation’, civilians were compelled toparticipate in military operations. These tookthe form of compulsory night patrols for theyouth, putting villagers in line and makingthem walk in front of the troops during anti-guerrilla operations, and the compulsory roleof informers.38 Rallies of villagers were also reg-ularly organised: they were urged to ‘crush ter-rorist’ and to pledge that they would ‘crushthem until there is nothing left of them’. Insuf-ficient zeal in implementing such ‘commit-ments’ could be ‘punished’.39 This terror con-text also favoured increasing corruption: at thecheckpoints controlled by underpaid military,and in the administration, which overchargedfor identity papers.

Between 1989 and 1991, 2,000 Acehnesewere killed.40 In 1993, the rebellion wascrushed, except for scattered pockets of com-batants. Nevertheless, Aceh remained a Mili-tary Operations Area. Such a status main-tained an open pre-eminent power of the mili-tary. It also maintained opportunities for sol-diers and officers to obtain financial benefits.Straddling networks of officers and economicplayers with Aceh-based businesses could beestablished. The rank-and-files, especiallywithin the Special Forces, could also makeadditional money as debt-collectors, securityguards, or by ‘arbitrating’ local business rival-ries.41

Preserving these financial incentives did nothave to involve a continuation of the terrorstrategy. Nevertheless, it was still implemented.The terror strategy was not based on an assess-ment of the situation in Aceh. It resulted from acommon approach to any ‘security distur-bances’ that was gradually established withinthe army and shared at the highest level of theregime. In 1989, President Suharto publishedhis memoirs. To maintain order, ‘it had to beviolence’. What he called ‘shock therapy’ wasconsidered as a legitimate tool: ‘those who triedto resist, like it or not, had to be shot.’42 State-ments of the regional military commander ofAceh in November 1990 did not represent anisolated or extreme position. They reflected theway in which violence had become both com-monplace and entrenched among the securityapparatus. Both individual experiences of offi-cers and a history of violence by the militarywere congruent to establish violence as a keyprinciple of governance. Human rights wereperceived as a western invention to weakenIndonesian cohesion. Contempt and benignneglect of the fate of civilians were widespreadamong the army. Violence was not an extremebut a commonplace and legitimate tool. Brutalmethods were just techniques. Through thedifferent regimes – colonial, Japanese occupa-tion, ‘Guided Democracy’ and ‘New Order’–,some recurrent practices were selected andassembled into a corpus of routine practices.

Such methods never faced significant criti-cism from foreign governments.43 Humanrights issues were relegated to a position of sec-ondary importance. Political priorities for for-eign leaders were rooted in the Cold Waragenda; then in the 1990s Indonesia became amodel of economic growth. In the late 1990s, as

37 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.10.38 Freek Colombijn and Thomas Lindblad (eds.), and Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit. 39 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.230.40 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.172.41 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.233.42 Quoted in Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.227.43 On the contrary, they occasionally benefited from external support. Hence, in 1965-66, the CIA provided a list of PKI members to theIndonesian military.

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44 In 25 years of conflict in Timor, 200,000 people were killed out of a total population of 900,000 Timorese. The violence in Aceh, in 15years, led 10,000 people to be killed out of a population of 4 million.45 Cf. Richard Tanter, ‘The Totalitarian Ambition: Intelligence Organizations and the Indonesian State’, in Arief Budiman (ed.), State andCivil Society in Indonesia (Clayton, Victoria: Monash Papers on South East Asia, n°22, 1990).

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separatist or communal conflicts were numer-ous in Indonesia, preserving the unity of thecountry was a priority, as several foreign gov-ernments considered that this was crucial tothe stability of South-east Asia.

In the 1990s, implementing such tech-niques in Timor or in Aceh could be perceivedas ‘business as usual’. Resorting to these prac-tices was not questioned as a principle,although its scope and length of implementa-tion varied.44 Even if individuals in the armyhad qualms about these practices, if they raisedobjections they would have to oppose peerpressure supported by an official counter-insurgency doctrine and renounce their career.Officers in Timor or in Aceh who operatedalong these principles were often promotedfaster. Under the ‘New Order’ regime, the mili-tary was influential enough to be protectedfrom significant criticism originating fromcivilian figures. When international criticismeventually appeared in the late 1980s, it did nothave a significant impact on the Indonesianarmy. Training of officers, the use of repressivemeasures, peer pressure within the militaryand the alleged efficiency of violent repressionall combined to favour the recurrent use of bru-tal practices. In 1988, a first call for Indonesiato withdraw from Timor was issued by theEuropean Parliament; the US Congress thenexpressed for the first time its ‘deep concerns’regarding the human rights situation inTimor; in 1989, the Pope visited Timor, draw-ing attention to the human rights record of theIndonesian army. As illustrated by the case ofAceh, this did not prevent this usual approachfrom being extended to another region facing‘security disturbances’. Terror became institu-tionalised, and abiding by its principles wasbasically conformist behaviour for members ofthe army.45

Under the ‘New Order’ regime, ‘shock ther-apy’ was regarded as an effective response to aconflict, without any room of manoeuvre for a

negotiated approach. No matter how a situa-tion might evolve locally, it would remain themost favoured option of the powerful military.Wider support for a separatist agenda couldgrow in Aceh without the military questioningthis repressive policy.

2.4 The tortuous road to negotiations: a by-product of changes in Indonesia

In 1997, a financial crisis took place in Thai-land. It spread through the whole of South-East Asia. Although Indonesia was until thenconsidered by the International Financial Insti-tutions as a model of development, its financialsystem was close to collapse. Simmering ten-sions gradually led to protest movementsagainst the ‘New Order’ regime. Unlike previ-ous confrontations, President Suharto and hisregime were in a weaker position to crush this.If the regime now pursued open and large-scalerepression, it was unlikely to secure foreignfinancial aid. Furthermore, since the mid-1980s, dissent was growing in the military. In1996, during an army internal seminar, nepo-tism and corruption were debated and criti-cised. A group of reform-minded officers wasgaining more influence within the military.Retired prominent generals and the Speaker ofthe Parliament called the army to restrain itselfin its repressive approach, as it was weakeningits support among the Indonesian population.Various factions were vying for power, whileSuharto was trying to curtail the influence ofrival factions by appointing officers accordingto their personal loyalty to him. A parallel chainof command became reinforced: connectionsto the Presidency were challenging the officialhierarchy and the corporate interests of thearmy. This intensified dissatisfaction among

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

the military and reinforced the factional rival-ries.46 In 1998, mass demonstrations occurred,contesting the economic failure of the Suhartoregime and its authoritarian rule. This timearound, internal rivalries within the militaryand the security apparatus hindered all-outrepression. Conversely, various factions withinthe regime used the mass demonstrations as aninstrument to compel Suharto to resign inMay 1998.

After the fall of Suharto, power strugglesintensified in Jakarta and became a key priorityfor the inner circles. Like other formerly signif-icant issues, the Aceh situation was relegated toa position of secondary importance. Reducingthe terror strategy or maintaining it was occa-sionally a tool in the power struggle among theinner circles, either within the military or inmilitary-civilian relations.47 In this context,policies in Aceh had lost their previous cohe-sion; terror strategy could be criticised and con-tained, then resumed. Negotiations could bepursued and their implementation under-mined. However, power struggles in Jakartamaintained a de facto, but precarious, check andbalance among the various factions. In thewake of these rivalries, human rights investiga-tions were occasionally launched to weaken orsack senior officers.48 The media were grantedgreater freedom in 1999 and gave extensive cov-erage to this issue, while NGOs were increas-ingly active. These various elements coalescedto maintain criticisms against the methods ofthe military, and undermined its legitimacy as a‘guardian of the nation’. It participated in alter-ing the power balance and put the army on thedefensive for the first time.49

As a consequence of these various dynamics,policies implemented in Aceh seemed con-

fused. Neither repression nor negotiationbecame the sole policy pursued by Jakartaunder Presidents Habibie (May 1998-October1999), Wahid (October 1999-July 2001),Megawati (July 2001-September 2004) andYudhoyono (since September 2004).

In August 1998, three months after the fallof Suharto, the Minister of Defence and head ofthe army, General Wiranto, issued a publicstatement, in which he apologised to theAcehnese population for the abuses they hadsuffered. He announced a withdrawal of troopsand the end of the Military Operations Area.This apparent turning point was mainly relatedto his rivalry with the head of Special Forcesand son-in-law of Suharto, General Prabowo. Itunderlined the role of Special Forces in theabuse of the population; the army propagandafocused on ‘past mistakes’ of ‘certain officers’.Wiranto thus appeared as a reform-mindedofficer. In his attempt to enlarge his power basewithin the army, he then needed the support of‘reformist’ officers.50

In September 1998, a withdrawal ceremonyof Special Forces was interrupted, as stoneswere thrown at the troops. This incident mayhave been engineered by a youth organisationclose to the Special Forces. It triggered riots anddestruction of government properties andbuildings, as well as premises of non-Acehnesebusinessmen. Accumulated resentment couldturn a local incident into a demonstrationagainst state representatives and institutions.Moreover, actual or alleged collaborators of thesecurity forces were targeted and faced violentreprisals.51 Withdrawal of troops was stoppedand reinforcements were sent in. Repressivemethods were maintained and justified byrenewed skirmishes with GAM combatants.

46 Henk Schulte Nordholt, op. cit., pp.75 and 81, Salim Said, ‘Suharto’s Armed Forces. Building a Power Base in New Order Indonesia’,Asian Survey, vol.38, no. 6, June 1998.47 Cf. Terence Lee, ‘The Nature and Future of Civil-Military Relations in Indonesia’, Asian Survey, vol. 40, no. 4, July-August 2000.48 This tactic was already used by Suharto in the 90s. In November 1991, two rival generals were sacked after the shooting of demonstratorsin Timor. In December 1993, he established a National Human Rights Commission. In accordance with post-Cold War internationalprinciples, such a measure was mainly a tool in the factional rivalry among senior officers. Henk Schulte Nordholt, op. cit., p.66.49 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.231.50 Jun Honna, op. cit., pp.165-167.51 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.230.

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52 Jun Honna, op. cit., pp.173-175.53 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.176.54 Jun Honna, op. cit., p.182.

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By January 1999, Wiranto had secured hisposition within the military. His alliance with‘reformist’ officers was abandoned. While thelatter were willing to redirect the armed forces’priorities towards maritime defence and notinternal security, the Wiranto faction wantedto rebuild the cohesion of the army aroundthem. Internal security was still an entrenchedapproach and commanded a significant con-sensus among the military. In May 1999, aseminar of the army reiterated that internalsecurity was the priority of the IndonesianArmed Forces. Formerly sidelined by Wiranto,officers with an intelligence and counter-insurgency background were promoted. Offi-cers who had been involved in brutal repres-sion in Eastern Timor were appointed to keypositions.52

While the army took up repression again aspart of its usual approach to ‘security distur-bances’, a delegation of Acehnese leaders wentto Jakarta and met President Habibie. Theyoffered a statement that Aceh would remainpart of Indonesia, while requesting the prose-cution of human rights abuses, the release ofpolitical prisoners and a special autonomy.Although this offer was turned down by themilitary and the Parliament, President Habibievisited Aceh two months later and made com-mitments to improve the situation. In anattempt to enlarge his political base, he initi-ated various laws on local governance. Powersof local governments were increased; it wasagreed that a percentage of the exploitation ofnatural resources would be returned to eachprovince. In the case of Aceh, this represented30% derived from natural gas, 80% from itsforestry, mining and fishing industries. Anadditional law revived the Acehnese ‘special sta-tus’. However, this legislation did not satisfyAcehnese demands, while the fact that theregime had previously reneged on agreementsrendered the Acehnese sceptical about itsactual implementation.

Moreover, Habibie announced a referen-dum on self-determination in Timor andstated that Aceh could also benefit from such ameasure, before then going back on his word.Both as a reaction to military repression andthis reneged commitment by Habibie,Acehnese human rights and students associa-tions launched a campaign in favour of a refer-endum and large-scale human rights investiga-tions. They organised successful and non-vio-lent mass mobilisations, which maintainedAceh high on the agenda of Indonesian politics.The balance of power in Jakarta impededIndonesian officials from negotiating with thispopular and non-violent movement in order tosideline GAM. In the second half of 1999, Habi-bie was weakened enough to need the supportof the army and its head, General. Wiranto.53

The military identified the pro-referendumcampaign in Aceh with GAM activities,although the latter was suspicious towards it.Repression against the leaders and members ofthe civilian movement ensued. This movementgot caught in resumed skirmishes opposingGAM and the army. GAM attacked soldiers andpolice officers, while the army attacked villagessuspected of harbouring GAM combatants.

After Habibie was defeated in the October1999 elections, the newly elected President,Abdurrahman Wahid, wanted to establish hisinfluence over the army. He thus underminedGeneral Wiranto by launching investigationsinto human rights abuses. This issue was nowin the spotlight. In January 2000, a Commis-sion of Inquiry on Timor incriminated GeneralWiranto and five other generals. In February,Wiranto had to resign. As a consequence of thischange in the power balance, ‘reformist’ offi-cers regained influence and benefited fromWahid’s support.54 Willing to appear as apeacemaker and facing less opposition fromthe military central command, Wahid was thenin position to launch the first direct negotia-tions between Jakarta and GAM. Facilitated by

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

the Geneva-based Centre for HumanitarianDialogue,55 a first agreement was signed in May2000. It focused on a ‘humanitarian pause’ inorder to ease dialogue between the parties. Thispotential breakthrough in favour of negotia-tions failed. Attacks by either sides on theground did not halt. Moreover, Wahid gotembroiled in conflicts with the Parliament andthe military. The Parliament stalled adoptionof a new specific status for Aceh, as it was sup-ported by Wahid.56 His attempt to control themilitary by appointing officers loyal to himbackfired. Officers in favour of prioritising oninternal security re-established their power andundermined Wahid by supporting his vice-president – and rival –, Megawati. In April 2001,Wahid adopted a six points policy for Aceh. Anegotiated approach was not revoked, but in itssixth point, President Wahid authorised the‘Operation for the Restoration of Security’, as aconcession to the military. Once more, thisoperation aimed at eradicating GAM. In 2001,1,300 people were killed in Aceh, twice morethan in 2000.

In July 2001, President Wahid had to resign.President Megawati, his former vice-president,shared the ‘unitary approach’ of the military.More troops were sent to Aceh; incidents andcasualties intensified. However, negotiations inGeneva were not interrupted and a presidentialdecree on special autonomy was signed, but wasnot followed by concrete implementation.57

GAM lost part of the territories it con-trolled, but maintained a force of 1,000 armedcombatants. Even if some its military leaderson the ground were killed, its flexible, perhapseven weak, chain of command did not affect itscapacities.58 In December 2002, the Centre forHumanitarian Dialogue brokered a new agree-

ment. It included cessation of hostilities, an all-inclusive dialogue, local elections scheduledfor 2004, confidence-building measures, andjoint monitoring teams under a Joint SecurityCommittee composed of GAM and Indonesianofficers. In April 2003, monitoring teams of theJSC were withdrawn from Banda Aceh, asprotests were organised against them andarson destroyed another one. In May 2003,martial law was imposed in Aceh and majormilitary operations resumed. GAM was oncemore weakened, without being fully eradi-cated. Its supply lines were significantly dis-rupted.

When Susilo Yudhoyono defeated Megawatiin the September 2004 elections, a new changeoccurred. A retired General, Yudhoyono used tobe close to the ‘reformist’ faction of the military.As a former Minister for Political, Social andSecurity Affairs, he also dealt with the Acehneseissue by promoting ‘substantive negotia-tions’.59 He was then considered as an ‘architectof a more conciliatory approach’.60 His vice-president entered into informal negotiationswith GAM representatives in September 2004.In spite of temporary interruptions stemmingfrom rivalries among Acehnese figures, thetalks were favoured by several combined ele-ments: GAM was militarily weakened and itsleadership was facing criticism from the inside(among other reasons, for its use of GAM taxes,and limited international attention being paidto its cause);61 past attempts at negotiationsfacilitating its acceptance by the military; andincreased international attention in the wake ofthe tsunami of December 2004. Furthermore,since the Bali bombings in 2002, the terroristthreat of Jemaah Islamiya has become a majorissue for the Indonesian security forces.

55 This mediation was financially supported by EU Commission, UNDP and USAID.56 Drafted by the Acehnese provincial assembly, it included provisions to implement Islamic law in Aceh, 80% of revenues over naturalresources accruing to the Acehnese provincial body and allowed use of Acehnese cultural symbols. 57 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.182.58 Angel Rabasa and John Haseman, op. cit., p.101.59 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: Escalating Tension’, Asia Briefing, n°4, December 2000.60 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: Why Military Force Won’t Bring Lasting Peace’, Asia Report, n°17, June 2001.61 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: A New Chance for Peace’, Asia Briefing, n°40, August 2005.

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62 Financial support for the negotiations were provided by the European Commission Rapid Reaction Mechanism, and by the Dutch andFinnish governments.63 For the entire text of the Memorandum of Understanding, cf. www.cmi.fi/files/Aceh_MoU.pdf

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Addressing such a threat provides a new legit-imisation for the Indonesia army that is con-gruent with its internal security priority, as wellas preserving the influence of the military inIndonesian politics. The importance of theAceh issue has thus been balanced by thisemerging threat.

This new context facilitated further negotia-tions, which benefited from previous attemptsto frame the architecture of an agreementbetween the Government of Indonesia andGAM. In January 2005, a round of new talksbegan in Helsinki. Martti Ahtisaari, the formerPresident of Finland, led the mediation team.His Crisis Management Initiative team studiedthe previous agreements, their weaknesses andthe already agreed principles. They consultedfigures who were involved in previous negotia-tions. By building on previous agreementswhile overcoming their weaknesses, the media-tion team succeeded in brokering an agreement

after five rounds of negotiations.62 On August15, 2005, a Memorandum of Understandingwas signed in Helsinki. It covered the governingof Aceh (including a law on the governing ofAceh, political participation, economy, andrule of law), human rights, amnesty and reinte-gration into society for former combatants,security arrangements, the establishment ofthe Aceh Monitoring Mission, and dispute set-tlement.63

However, as with past agreements, its imple-mentation relies on an efficient monitoringmechanism to overcome the accumulated mis-trust of the Acehnese towards Jakarta. In thisperspective, the credibility and efficiency of theAceh Monitoring Mission has been as impor-tant as the agreement to stabilise Acehprovince. Unlike previous attempts to bring anend to the conflict, a significant internationalplayer was associated with the implementationof the agreement.

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

3

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management Giovanni Grevi

Peace talks between the Indonesian Govern-ment and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM)

started on 27-29 January 2005, triggered by thehumanitarian emergency and consequent mobil-isation following the tsunami disaster, by afavourable domestic political conjuncture and bythe authoritative personal involvement of formerFinnish President Martti Ahtisaari through hisCrisis Management Initiative. Following threerounds of negotiation in February, April andMay, the parties came to an agreement on the con-tent of the Memorandum of Understanding(MoU) at their fourth meeting on 12-17 July.

The Crisis Management Initiative conductedthe peace process autonomously from EU struc-tures and actors although, as reported below,the Commission provided funding for the pur-suit of the negotiations. As the end of the talksapproached, however, the question of monitor-ing the peace agreement came to the forefront.The hard lessons learned from previous failuresto sustain peace in the region – most recentlywith the breach of the ‘Cessation of HostilityAgreement’ in May 2003 – made it crucial toidentify a credible international partner to over-see the respect of the agreements. This was a par-ticularly sensitive matter for the Indonesiangovernment. The memory of the events in EastTimor, where the intervention of the UN and theinternationalisation of the crisis were perceivedas the factors responsible for the loss of thatprovince, was still fresh. At the same time, thecontingent of observers had to be strong enoughto be credible, and backed by political will. Theattribution of the monitoring mission to neigh-bouring countries under the ASEAN umbrellawas also politically sensitive.

The European Union was the top candidatefor the job, in partnership with ASEAN nations.Following contacts between President Ahti-saari and HR/SG Javier Solana, and with theconsent of the conflicting parties, the EU sentan ‘assessment mission’ to Aceh at the end ofJune.1 At that early stage, EU officials encoun-tered difficulties in carrying out fully-fledgedplanning because the terms of the agreementwere kept secret and not disclosed until the offi-cial signature on 15 August. Uncomfortablewith not being involved in a process likely tolead to a European commitment on the ground,officials from the Council and the Commissionwent to Helsinki at the time of the last round oftalks in mid-July, where they met some of theparticipants in the negotiations without actu-ally taking part in meetings. The EU was alsobriefed on the state of play through informalmeetings with the representatives of the CrisisManagement Initiative in Brussels.

On 18 July, the General Affairs and ExternalRelations Council (GAERC) sent a positive butcautious message concerning the possibility of aEuropean deployment in Aceh. The Counciltook note of the report of the ‘assessment mis-sion’ and welcomed the successful conclusion,the day before, of the Helsinki negotiations. It‘agreed that the EU was prepared, in principle, toprovide observers to monitor implementationof the MoU’ and ‘asked the competent bodies tocontinue planning for a possible monitoringmission (…) and to establish contact withASEAN.’2 Within the competent bodies, notablythe Political and Security Committee (PSC),there was little enthusiasm for the launch of theenvisaged operation. While some countries,

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1 This was in effect an early fact-finding mission but it was not called as such in order not to raise sensitivities in Indonesian circles, at atime when the peace deal was not yet closed.2 Council Press Release 10813/05.

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such as Finland, Sweden, the Netherlands andFrance, pushed for EU engagement, a ‘silentmajority’ around the table conveyed the feelingthat many Member States did not see the Acehmission as a priority.

It was to be the first ESDP (European Secu-rity and Defence Policy) mission in Asia, at10,000 km from home, in a region that mostEuropeans, with the exception of the Dutch,knew very little about. Some felt that the Unionwould do better to concentrate its efforts closerto home, notably in the stabilisation of theBalkans and in bringing order to Europe’s back-yard in sub-Saharan Africa and in the neigh-bourhood at large, tackling the urgent problemsof migration and organised crime stemmingfrom these areas. The British Presidency, ini-tially not keen on the mission, subsequentlytook a more positive stance, aligning itself withthe Nordics and France. The mission in Acehwas regarded as potentially beneficial in variousrespects. First, it would demonstrate that,notwithstanding the rejection of the Constitu-tional Treaty and the budgetary stalemate,ESDP was still up on its feet and able to deliver.3Second, a mission in Indonesia would match thevision of those who regarded the Union as aglobal player, not limited to stabilising its neigh-bourhood but nurturing more ambitious goals.Third, the mission would offer a test case for thefunctioning of the ESDP machinery for civil cri-sis management, and in particular of the newlyestablished CivMil Cell. In addition, with a viewto events on the ground, it was quite clear thatthe absence of credible and impartial monitorswould lead to a breakdown of the peace agree-ment and the resumption of hostilities.

From mid-July onwards, developmentsunfolded along two parallel, though closelyrelated, strands. Brussels-based institutionalactors tackled the sensitive political, legal andbudgetary profiles of the envisaged mission,

while teams on the ground paved the way for thedeployment of the mission on 15 September.Following the GAERC conclusions on 18 July, itbecame obvious that the European Union’scomplicated and cumbersome procedures andbudgetary processes would not allow for thedeployment of a fully-fledged AMM on 15August, when the MoU would be signed. At thesame time, it was apparent that any vacuumbetween 15 August and the launch of AMM on15 September could be potentially dangerous tothe peace agreement. With this in mind, officialsfrom the Council Secretariat and Commission,with participation of the Crisis ManagementInitiative, drew up a concept for an EU InitialMonitoring Presence (IMP) to cover the gap.The concept was noted by PSC on 29 July.

The simultaneous pursuit of the twoprocesses immediately strikes the observer as ananomaly in EU crisis management. A clear polit-ical mandate by the Council was missing. Yetprogress on the ground quickly outpaced labori-ous negotiations in Brussels, somewhat pre-empting them. The early identification of theHead of Mission designate of the AMM (also theHead of the IMP), who was the Deputy DirectorGeneral for ESDP and Operations in the Coun-cil Secretariat – the Dutchman Peter Feith – waskey to bringing the two strands together. Also,the Head of the Technical Assessment Mission(TAM), who subsequently became the Chief ofStaff of IMP and AMM itself, was a senior andexperienced official from the Secretariat’s Civil-ian Crisis Management Directorate. This notonly achieved continuity but also allowed forintimate knowledge of the EU’s procedures andintricacies. This was essential for launching themission at such short notice.4 For the sake ofclarity of presentation, progress on the groundand negotiations in Brussels are described sepa-rately in what follows.

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

3 According to Quentin Peel, ‘As for the EU, it may be a small war in a distant place but success would demonstrate the effectiveness of itscommon foreign policy, precisely when so many have been writing it off as a failure.’ Financial Times, 18 August 2005. 4 This secondment of Council Secretariat personnel to key positions in the IMP and AMM was in itself highly unusual but followed thesuccessful precedent of the Iraq Expert Team that was established in November 2004. The Iraq Expert Team was in many ways the first ‘CrisisResponse Team’ deployed by the EU. The success of both the Iraq and Aceh experiences shows that the Council Secretariat needs the flexibilityand personnel to deploy officials in crisis management, in conjunction with officials from the Member States and the Commission.

3.1 Progress on the ground

On 1 and 2 August, planners from the EU andAssociation of Southeast Asian Nations(ASEAN) met in Jakarta in order to clarify therespective tasks, in the context of the joint man-date received from the (yet to be signed) MoU. Itwas agreed that the EU would take the lead andthat ASEAN would appoint the PrincipalDeputy Head of Mission. Of the 220 or so moni-tors, 120 would be from EU Member States. Itwas agreed that monitors from the EU and fromASEAN would operate jointly in mixed teams.The five ASEAN countries (Brunei, Malaysia,Philippines, Singapore and Thailand) alsoagreed to participate in the Initial MonitoringPresence. Officials from the Council Secretariat(DG E IX), the CivMil Cell and the Commission,along with the EU Presidency, took part in thisearly meeting, following which a TechnicalAssessment Mission (TAM) was immediatelydeployed to Aceh, including personnel from EUbodies but also from Member States, ASEANand the Crisis Management Initiative.

Mandated with preparing the ground for themonitoring mission, the TAM ended up playinga very influential role out of sheer necessity anddue to time pressure. Once in Aceh, it becamethe planning team and launch vehicle for theIMP on 15 August. On the ground, it was espe-cially clear that there was a need to consolidatethe achievements of the peace deal by buildingconfidence and avoiding a boycott of the entireprocess. Devoid of EU procedural constraintsfor the IMP (in that it was without a Councilmandate), the small TAM nevertheless drew upthe necessary papers for the successful, safe andeffective deployment of the IMP in twelve days.This included building on the concept noted byPSC, an Operations Order, Operations Plan,Deployment Plan, Safety and Security Plan,

Instructions to Monitors and a training pro-gramme for incoming monitors. Exceptionally,the concept of operations (CONOPS) for theAMM itself was drafted on the spot and sent toBrussels for discussion and finalisation. TheTAM had to get involved in more mundane busi-ness too, such as hotel reservations and carrentals required to establish the first nucleus ofthe mission. This proved particularly compli-cated in a region with poor infrastructure, stillfar from recovery from the tsunami catastrophe.A wide range of international actors, already onthe ground to focus on the humanitarian andreconstruction efforts, had already monopo-lised the few available logistical means.5 More-over, expectations amongst the locals were fastraising. The very considerable media interestgenerated pressure to define a coherent messageand a media strategy.

Following the preparation of the mission inthe first half of the month, HR/SG Javier Solanawas in the position to declare, on 15 August2005, that ‘the European Union now envisages,together with five ASEAN states, the deploymentof a monitoring mission in Aceh on 15 Septem-ber.’6 The five ASEAN countries involved in themission included Brunei, Malaysia, the Philip-pines, Singapore and Thailand. The EU CouncilSecretariat also announced that an initial moni-toring presence (IMP) would be deployed on thevery same day, numbering 50 monitors fromboth the EU and ASEAN, with a view to ‘con-tributing to confidence building amongst thepopulation of Aceh during the early stage of theimplementation of MoU.’7

The immediate deployment of the IMP wascrucial to ensure that the mission per se couldeffectively start on 15 September. Expectationswere high and there was an urgency to demon-strate tangible support to a peace process whosepace was accelerating. The Indonesian Govern-ment amnestied the GAM fighters on 30 August.

5 It is telling that the small team which was deployed at the beginning of August started work in a hotel, eventually renting a private houseas the IMP headquarters. The Headquarters of the AMM would eventually be located in a building on the campus of Banda AcehUniversity. 6 Council document S279/05, 15 August 2005. 7 EU Council Secretariat Fact Sheet ACH/00 (initial), 15 August 2005.

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8 The Aceh support team was headed by a senior official of DG E IX of the Council Secretariat and included another official from the DGE IX, as well as two officials from the newly constituted Civil Military Cell within the Military staff: one civilian and one military officer.9 The paper, cautiously presented as an ‘Information Note’, was not an official Commission position but reflected ‘work in progress byCommission services and guidance from the Commissioner for External Relations.’

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As a result, many of the GAM fighters were readyand willing to demobilise and decommissiontheir weapons well before the start of the AMM,with a view to receiving in exchange the integra-tion package promised by the government.

The establishment of the IMP was not with-out its problems. The process of force genera-tion went very well, with a surprisingly swift,extensive and high-quality response to theCouncil Secretariat’s hurried call for tender. Thesame could not be said, however, of funds. Dur-ing the first part of August, it was not at all clearhow the mission would eventually be financed(see next section). Pragmatic, temporary solu-tions had to be – and were – invented on the spot,rather than face not being able to proceed.Members of the IMP were asked, for example, tobring with them 7,000 euros in cash in order tobe able to cover their own expenses: somebrought their own money, and even paid fortheir own flight. At the same time, a simple bankaccount was opened in Banda Aceh and thespontaneous contributions of Member States tosupport the early stages of the IMP were warmlyencouraged. At this ‘pioneering’ stage, the size-able contribution both in kind and in cash ofSweden proved decisive in providing vital logis-tics. The British Presidency and Finland madesubstantial cash contributions. Thanks to thislast minute ‘fix’, the IMP could start working.And it did, effectively.

Among other tasks, which included confi-dence building and investigating two seriousbreaches of the MoU that occurred before 15September, the IMP looked after the organisa-tion of adequate training for EU and ASEANmonitors upon their arrival between 10 and 12September. IMP members could capitalise ontheir short but intensive experience on theground to address all relevant topics, includingmodules on the political, cultural and socialbackground of the province; on the Indonesianarmy and police, GAM, and the administrativeframework in Aceh; and more technical sessions

on weapons decommissioning and humanrights monitoring. Both senior monitors fromthe IMP and Indonesian experts were involved inthe teaching. The overall assessment of thetraining phase was very positive: it was recog-nised that had a robust IMP not been in place, itwould have been difficult to set up a trainingcourse of comparable quality, tailor made forthe environment and the goals of the mission.

3.2 Negotiations in Brussels: money matters

Setting up a mission at short notice, in the spaceof a few weeks during the summer break, wasnever going to be easy. Aware of the risk that thenecessarily fast rhythm of decision-making inBrussels could outpace national capitals at thatparticular period of the year, the Council Secre-tariat prepared a precise roadmap includingmeetings of the PSC, CIVCOM and the group ofRELEX Counsellors. Informed of the intensivesummer agenda, capitals stayed on board. A cellwas set up by the Council Secretariat to overseeand support the launch of the different stages ofthe mission over the month of August, from theTAM to the IMP up to the launch of AMM inSeptember. In particular, the British Presidencyinsisted that the CivMil Cell should be put incharge of planning. Since, however, the CivMilCell was yet to reach its full working capacity, apractical solution was found which entailedcooperation between the CivMil Cell and DG EIX responsible for Civilian crisis Management.8

On the very same day (18 July) of the Councilconclusions paving the way for the EU involve-ment in Aceh, the Commission’s External Rela-tions Directorate General finalised a ground-breaking proposal for financing the mission.9 Thecontribution was presented the following day tothe PSC and led to a bitter confrontation betweenthe legal service of the Council and the Commis-

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

sion.10 Because of the broader, long-term implica-tions of the divergence between EU institutions,and Member States, with regard to the financingof the AMM, it is worth describing the terms of thedispute in some detail. The Commission’s docu-ment made the following points and suggestions:

The Tsunami Indicative Programme makes an explicitlink between Community development assistance andthe peaceful solution of the Aceh conflict.

The Commission is ready to align support deliveredthrough Community instruments with the agreed polit-ical framework arrived at under CFSP and is ready toensure that, at the operational level, Communityaction is guided by the strategic direction and politicalcontrol of the PSC.

The Commission cannot legally finance those parts ofthe mission that are of a military nature, such asweapons’ decommissioning.

The first part of the AMM would be financed by theRapid Reaction Mechanism (RRM) from an amountof 3 million euros. The rest of the funding would be pro-vided by the Asia and Latin America programme.

The Commission would finance the mission through agrant to a framework Member State, after addressing acall for proposals to all Member States and selectingamong those countries that have expressed interest tobecome the ‘framework’ Member State. Proposals sub-mitted to the Commission would notably include theCrisis Management Concept, the CONOPS and a doc-ument corresponding to the OPLAN.

The salaries of the staff would be borne by MemberStates. The budget would cover per diems and travelexpenses, salaries of local staff, costs of rent of premisesand all necessary equipment. Flexible and acceleratedprocurement procedures could be envisaged.

The PSC would receive mission reports and provideoverall political guidance. There would be parallel oper-

ational reporting to the Commission and the Council bythe framework Member State. Only significant amend-ments to the original plan and budget would have to besubmitted to the Commission for approval.

The framework country could propose the Head of Mis-sion. Alternatively, the framework country could pro-pose a Head of Operations in charge of daily manage-ment and contractual reporting to the Commission.The Head of Mission would be appointed by the Coun-cil, with a primarily political function.

The mission would be presented as an ‘EU’ missionwith no distinction between ESDP and EC elements.The Commission would need to be associated to publicstatements, and its input ensured in the follow up of themission.

It is not surprising that the Commission’spaper triggered considerable debate. The ques-tion of financing ESDP operations is directlyrelated to the exercise of political control andstrategic direction on the mission itself. This isthe reason why some Member States felt that,had its proposal been accepted, the Commis-sion would have acquired excessive politicalinfluence on the running of the operation. Aftera first tour de table in the PSC on 19 July, thedecision was taken to address the subject in thesubsequent meeting on 26 July. In betweenthose two dates, the Council Legal Service sub-mitted its opinion on the proposal of the Com-mission, and rejected it on legal, budgetary andpolitical/institutional grounds. From a legalstandpoint, it was argued that the RRM and theALA programme could not finance a crisis man-agement operation pertaining to CFSP objec-tives, and not those of the EC. The proposalwould also infringe budgetary rules, whereby amonitoring mission would clearly fall withinthe remit of Title V TEU. According to Art. 28.3TEU, the ‘Operating expenditure to which theimplementation [of the provisions relating tothe areas referred to in Title V] gives rise shallalso be charged to the budget of the European

10 This is all the more interesting in the light of the fact that the Commission proposal had been drafted in close cooperation with seniorofficials from other services in the Council Secretariat.

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11 For a more precise description of the budgetary arrangements concerning CFSP, see the Inter-institutional Agreement of 6 May 1999,OJ 1999/C 172/01. 12 Considering that, as illustrated below, the final budget amounts to 15 million euros, the team should be credited with a pretty goodapproximation at such an early stage.

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Communities’ except for the funding of opera-tions with military or defence implications andcases where the Council unanimously decidesotherwise. Within the Community budget, it isthe CFSP chapter that is supposed to financeESDP civilian missions.11

From a budgetary perspective, the Councillegal service felt that funding from the RRM wasnot required, since the CFSP budget couldfinance the 3 million euros required for the firststage of the AMM with the unspent budget fromother missions. In political and institutionalterms, the legal service interpreted the Commis-sion proposal as a take over bid for the missionchain of command, affecting the PSC’s preroga-tive of political control. The legal service fearedthat the arrangement suggested by the Commis-sion could set a precedent, allowing the Commis-sion to implement actions in the domain ofESDP and leading over time to the loss ofnational control over civilian crisis management.

The proposal of the Commission and theopinion of the Council’s legal service became thetwo poles of reference of subsequent discussionsat the RELEX Counsellors’ group and at thePSC. The RELEX Counsellors submitted vari-ous financing options, including full financingfrom the CFSP budget (which would haverequired complicated procedures to allocateadditional funding), partial financing fromMember States in addition to the CFSP budget,negotiations with the European Parliament toobtain an increase of the CFSP budget, anddirect contributions made by Member States inplace of the CFSP budget. In the course of theRELEX discussion, several delegations sup-ported the Commission’s proposal, while othersopposed it. Yet another option envisaged thatthe scope (and budget) of the AMM missioncould be narrowed down by extrapolating fromthe mandate those measures that could fallwithin the Community competence.

With the TAM due to be launched within thespace of a few days, the PSC could not reach agree-

ment. But the sense of urgency was growing, andnew ‘emergency’ options were considered, such astesting the ground with third parties (non Mem-ber States) with a view to receiving contributionsin kind. Mention was also made of the need toflank the AMM with Community measures. Theidea of slicing the mandate of the AMM wasrejected, yet the complementarity of the missionwith EC programmes was consistently stressed.

At the end of July, it still was not clearwhether the EU would be in the position to fulfilits (half) commitment to launch a monitoringmission in Aceh. A considerable number ofMember States were at best lukewarm as to themerits of the mission. Very few at Brussels head-quarters knew much about the real situation onthe ground, it was unclear where the moneycould come from and, for that matter, no seriousestimation of costs had been carried out yet. Inthis context, ‘constructive improvisation’ wasthe only chance to break the deadlock. A team ofthree Council officials was requested to deliveralmost overnight a financial assessment of themission. The team, drawing from previous expe-rience, delivered rough ‘political figures’ for anoverall amount of 13 million euros.12 It wasforeseen that some money could be made avail-able from budget surpluses from other ESDPmissions, but that sum was difficult to quantify.

Short of money and confronted with thereluctance of a number of countries to engage inIndonesia, but resolved to enhance the EU’simage of a trusted global player and to fulfil theinformal commitment entered into with Presi-dent Ahtisaari, Javier Solana addressed the PSCon 26 July. That session marked the turningpoint in the history of the AMM: basically,Solana stated that the EU had to deploy the mis-sion and that a solution had been found tofinance it from the CFSP budget: details were tobe provided at a later stage. This assertive inter-vention of the High Representative tilted thebalance in favour of launching the mission andusing the CFSP budget: the Commission’s pro-

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

posal was definitively abandoned, in favour ofdrawing on the CFSP budget.

The picture, however, looked rather differentwhen the moment came to establishing thefinancial statement of the mission. Out of atotal budget of about 15 million euros, the CFSPline could cover no more than 9. The rest had tobe provided by ‘willing and able’ Member Stateson the basis of a ‘costs lie where they fall’ basis.This was an unconventional principle in thedomain of EU civilian crisis management: therewas no clear idea of how it would work. In theend, seven Member States offered contributionsin kind for an overall amount of around 5 mil-lion euros, while 1 million euros came frombilateral contributions of non-member coun-tries, notably Norway and Switzerland whodeployed three monitors each. Sweden was byfar the most committed of EU countries, deliv-ering over 4 million euros’ worth of logisticalsupport and equipment.13 Interestingly, in therun up to the adoption of the Joint Action inearly September, no less than ten countriesmade clear that the peculiar solution consistingof bilateral contributions to finance an ESDPcivilian mission did not set a precedent. Thesolution resided rather in an in-depth discus-sion on how to increase the budget allocated toCFSP within the overall EC budget.

3.3 The mandate and the structure of AMM

A demanding mandateThe mandate of the AMM, outlined in the Coun-cil Joint Action adopted on 9 September, is ademanding one.14 The sensitivity of the missioncannot be fully grasped unless the mandate isread in conjunction with the Memorandum ofUnderstanding signed on 15 August by the Gov-ernment of Indonesia and the representatives ofGAM. The AMM is an integral part and, in many

ways, the lynchpin of a wider political process setin motion by the peace agreement. The MoUrequires that a new Law on the Governing of Acehenter into force not later than 31 March 2006,envisaging wide margins of autonomy for theregion. That law will set the framework for theelections in April 2006 of the Head of the Acehadministration and other officials.

In addition, the Government of Indonesiahas agreed to facilitate the legitimisation of thetwo Aceh-based political parties which meet thenational criteria and, in a significant politicalbreakthrough, local political parties in Aceh.The GAM gave up its historic objective of inde-pendence in return for inclusion in the politicalprocess. Needless to say, this transition requirestime and is paved with obstacles. In addition, aHuman Rights Court is to be established forAceh, as well as a Commission for Truth andReconciliation tasked with formulating recon-ciliation measures. In the context of what mightbe defined as ‘local government building’, theAMM plays a vital role for building confidenceand encouraging dialogue between the parties.In short, in parallel to the active political dia-logue between the Indonesian Government andthe EU and ASEAN, it is up to the AMM to guar-antee an enabling environment on the ground.

The mandate outlined in the Joint Action15

reflects almost literally the tasks entrusted tothe AMM by the MoU, namely:

Monitoring the demobilisation of GAM

Monitoring and assisting with the decommissioningand destruction of its weapons, ammunition andexplosives

Monitoring the relocation of non-organic militaryforces and non-organic police troops

Monitoring the reintegration of active GAM members

13 Other countries included Belgium, Finland, Ireland, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and the UK. 14 Council Joint Action 2005/643/CFSP, 9 September 2005. OJ L 234/13.15 See Joint Action 2005/643/CFSP, Art. 2.

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Monitoring the human rights situation and provideassistance in this field in the context of the tasks listedabove

Monitoring the process of legislation change

Ruling on disputed amnesty cases

Investigating and ruling on complaints and alleged vio-lations of the MoU

Establishing and maintaining liaison and good cooper-ation with the parties

The one change introduced in the JointAction with respect to the MoU consists of thelimitation of the scope of human rights moni-toring to the implementation of the key tasks ofthe AMM (monitoring demobilisation, decom-missioning, relocation and reintegration). Forthe rest, measured against initial expectations,the mandate of the mission broadened as theterms of the peace agreement became moreclear and reliable information was collected inAceh to inform the debate in Brussels. Initially,it was envisaged that the EU would be responsi-ble for monitoring only. It soon became clear,however, that the mission’s remit would need toextend to weapons’ decommissioning: GAMfighters wanted a reliable third party to beinvolved, as they refused to surrender theirweapons to the Indonesian forces. Takingcharge of decommissioning required that themission be equipped with tools to destroyweapons, and be manned by monitors with amilitary expertise.

Of even greater sensitivity was the involve-ment of the AMM in the monitoring of humanrights and in the political process at large. Whilesome Member States insisted that proactivehuman rights monitoring had to be a centralfeature of the mission, a compromise wasachieved whereby the key tasks would consist ofmonitoring decommissioning and relocation.With fewer weapons in circulation, the securitysituation would inevitably improve and it wouldbe easier for the parties to engage in the peaceprocess. In other words, the approach was to

build confidence through concrete, tangibleachievements and only then get more directlyinvolved with the political dimension of thepeace process. After some hesitation, it wasagreed that the security of the monitors wouldbe assured by the Indonesian forces.

The structure of the AMMThe AMM has been organised in such a way as toensure both a capillary presence on the groundand mobility across the region to ensure theimplementation of the MoU. The Head of Mis-sion is assisted by three deputies: the principaldeputy is a Thai General, while the other twocome from the EU, respectively Finnish and Ital-ian. Likewise, the Chief of Staff is European buthis deputy is from the Philippines. More gener-ally, all the departments and units belonging tothe Headquarters are led by an EU national, witha deputy from ASEAN. This repartition of theleading posts shows both the respective com-mitments and the good cooperation betweenEU and ASEAN.

The Headquarters includes four advisers tothe Head of Mission (a political adviser, a legaladviser, a special adviser and one responsible forliaison with the EU Presidency). The most size-able department is the operation department,where a Reporting and Analysis Cell has been setup. The ‘Decommissioning component’, thePress and Information Office, the SecurityOffice, the Medical Cell (one doctor from Singa-pore) as well as supporting services (administra-tion, finance, procurement, accounting, logis-tics) are also located at the Headquarters, givinga total staff of 57.

ASEAN team leaders head 6 of the 11 decen-tralised District Offices, each of them with 11monitors. On the other hand, there is a predom-inance of EU personnel in the four mobiledecommissioning teams, each of which has 9monitors. A team from the Swedish Rescue Ser-vices Agency supports the whole mission, andhas played a vital role in getting the mission offthe ground in the first place. Total AMM staffamounts to 231, including seven with an inter-national contract.

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

3.4 The EU presence and activity on the ground

The AMM was deployed in an area with a veryhigh density of international presence, follow-ing the unprecedented damage inflicted by thetsunami in December 2004. In this context, theEuropean Union has taken the lead in the reliefeffort and can legitimately claim to uphold to itsreputation of main world provider of humani-tarian assistance and development aid. Since thetsunami struck on 26 December 2004, the EUand its Member States have mobilised up to 1.5billion euros. In particular, on the EU side, 123million euros were allocated to immediatehumanitarian assistance to all countriesaffected by the disaster, and 207 million euroswere made available under the ALA programmeand the RRM to support the long-term recon-struction of Aceh.16 The Indonesian MultiDonor Trust Fund is co-chaired by the Head ofthe Indonesian Post-Tsunami ReconstructionAgency, the World Bank and the Commissionitself, in recognition of its prominent role inproviding aid.

With a more specific reference to the peaceprocess in Aceh, the Commission had supportedattempts to reach a stable ceasefire well beforethe natural catastrophe occurred. A co-chair ofthe Tokyo Preparatory Conference for Peace andReconstruction in Aceh in December 2002, theCommission financed the monitoring missionled by the Henry Dunant Centre for Humanitar-ian Dialogue, which failed to prevent the out-break of hostilities in May 2003.

In March 2005, the Commission gave around220,000 euros from the RRM in support of a

project directed at involving local stakeholdersand civil society in the drafting of the MasterPlan for the recovery of Aceh. The consultationand involvement of civil society in the otherwisecentralised preparation of the plan appeared‘even more essential when seen against the back-drop of the long-standing conflict in Aceh, witha new round of peace talks recently initiated.’17

A month later, the Commission provided addi-tional funding under the RRM, with a 270,000euro ceiling, to the Crisis Management Initiativeconducting the peace talks.18 On 29 July, almostsimultaneously to the launch of the TechnicalAssessment Mission (to which a Commissionofficial was associated), the Commissionreleased a new 30 million euros contribution tosupport the first long-term projects for the reha-bilitation and reconstruction of the province. Inaddition to rebuilding houses, public infra-structures and helping to restart the economy,the package was directed to strengthening thecapacity of the new Reconstruction Agency aswell as the local government. It was acknowl-edged that this project ‘should also facilitatelater arrangements for self-government in Aceh,since a peace agreement has now been reached inHelsinki.’19

In this context, regardless of Brussels quib-bles over financing, the Commission’s effortsand the AMM mandate can only be regarded ascomplementary and mutually reinforcing. Thisis even more the case because of the ethnic, polit-ical and religious cleavages crossing the region.The fair and equitable treatment of the differentareas and groups is a priority in order to avoid adisruption of peace down the line. In particular,the right balance has to be struck between theaid provided to the coastal population, most hit

16 On the European response to the tsunami disaster, and the reflection that it triggered, see in particular the Council doc. 5788/05, 28January 2005 (EU Action Plan); the Commission’s Communication on Reinforcing EU Disaster and Crisis Response in Third Countries,COM52005) 153 final, 20 April 2005; the Commission’s Press Release IP/05/490, 27 April 2005, ‘More aid on the way for Tsunamivictims’; the Tsunami Indicative Programme adopted by the Commission on 23 May 2005, C(2005)1490; and the Progress Report on TheEuropean Commission’s Response to the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 26 December 2004 and Reinforcing EU Disaster and Crisis Responsein Third Countries, 18 November 2005.17 See the Commission’s Information Note RE A4 REG PA (05) D/505992. The project included the setting up of ten working groups andthe presentation of the resulting working paper to the National Development Planning Agency. 18 See the Commission’s Information Note RELEX/A4 REG PA (05) D/50824819 Commission, IP/05/1025.

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20 NGO officials repeatedly stressed the interplay between reconstruction efforts and initiatives to put an end to the conflict in Aceh. Thetwo sets of measures were regarded as strengthening each other. Without a safe environment in which to operate, on the contrary, thedelivery of aid was seriously undermined. See for example ‘Tâche titanesque, la reconstruction d’Atjeh est une chance pour la paix’, LeMonde, 24 August 2005. 21 Europa House is not only responsible for liaising with the AMM but also for establishing direct, permanent contacts with local officials.In addition, Europa House looks after the coherent management of post-Tsunami assistance and offers a platform to officials from MemberStates on mission: only France and Germany have opened a bureau in Banda Aceh.22 Commission’s Information Note, RELEX/D(2005) 518845. According to the Commission’s plan, GAM detainees and fighters wouldreceive immediate assistance at points of release or demobilisation. Former GAM members would receive a minimal subsistence cashallowance of 600 euros each to help them and their families – a total of 25,000 people – to go back to their villages. In addition, fundingwould be provided to establish a demobilisation database and to launch a communications and outreach programme to fosterreconciliation and outline the perspectives for peace. The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) would implement the programme.23 ‘Without an adequate support system, observers warn that restless ex-GAM fighters could become a thorn in Aceh’s side.’ The ChristianScience Monitor, 19 September 2005.24 The EU is not the only provider of aid to reintegration on the ground. Other institutions and countries include the World Bank, USAID,UNDP, UNICEF and Japan.

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by the tsunami, and to the population of themainland, which suffered the most from thecivil war. EU action must be clearly and perceiv-ably directed at building the future of the entireregion, and not of one particular area or socialcomponent.20

Coordination and cooperation among EUinstitutions and bodies are working well on theground. The Head of Mission and the Head ofthe Commission Delegation in Jakarta, as wellas their advisors, meet regularly. It is envisagedthat the Commission Delegation hosts regularmeetings between the EU and other donors andbecomes involved in meetings with the Head ofMission where the political aspects of the Acehpeace process are addressed. Furthermore, theantenna opened by the Commission Delegationin Banda Aceh – Europa House – and the AMMofficials work in daily contact.21 The quality andscope of cooperation can be detected by lookingat the main issues falling within the remit of theAMM.

ReintegrationOn 1 September, the Commission proposedmobilising the RRM by investing 4 million eurosto assist the 2,000 GAM detainees due to bereleased and the 3,000 GAM fighters to be demo-bilised, according to what was foreseen by theMoU. It was understood that this initial effortwas to be followed by a wider reintegration pro-gramme, so as to provide a visible ‘peace-divi-dend’ and ensure the long-term viability of the

political process.22 However, only part of theoriginal Commission’s proposal was actuallyimplemented: EU funding has so far been allo-cated to former prisoners only. The Governmentof Indonesia has decided to take charge of the ini-tial phases of the reintegration of former-com-batants. In so doing, the Indonesian authoritieswanted to show their commitment to the peaceprocess and get political credit out of that.

The challenge of reintegration is possibly thehardest confronting the EU efforts to makepeace viable.23 It is not only a matter of dispens-ing money in small instalments: it is a questionof allocating land and housing, ensuring physi-cal security and an enabling environment of eco-nomic prosperity, making healthcare availableand organising professional training or re-train-ing.24 The response of the Indonesian authori-ties to these daunting needs is of questionableeffectiveness, with a confused division of rolesand responsibilities between central and localauthorities and inconsistent procedures applied.Lack of reliable information on where to locatethe beneficiaries of reintegration packages posesanother problem, with former fighters uneasywith providing personal details to the authori-ties. In particular, it is not always clear who arethe ‘affected civilians’ entitled to support.

The Commission emphasised the coordina-tion of its initiatives with AMM. EC measuresare prepared in close cooperation with the mis-sion. In parallel to EC funding, for example, theAMM has carried out over 500 interviews withformer prisoners across the entire region. These

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

interviews enabled the monitors to gain a muchbetter understanding of the perspectives andpriorities of the recipients of aid, as the basis forfine-tuning financial support.25 The AMM hasexpressed an overall positive assessment ofdevelopments on the ground together with con-cerns that lack of information on the next stagesof reintegration might lead to frustration and aloss of confidence in the process.

Law on the governing of AcehThe Memorandum of Understanding envisagedthat all the constitutive elements of the futureautonomy status of Aceh be included in the Lawon the Governing of Aceh. If adopted in time forthe April 2006 elections, the law is going to bethe cornerstone of a sustainable peace process,covering not only the division of competencesbetween national and local authorities, the sepa-ration of power within Aceh and the establish-ment of its borders and symbols, but also the keyprovisions on the establishment of local politi-cal parties and on the nomination of candidatesto top local executive posts.

Drafting is pursued at both the national andthe regional level in a coordinated way, underthe supervision of the Ministry of the Interior.26

All options will be subsumed in a consolidateddraft text to be submitted by the Ministry of theInterior to the national Parliament by the end ofDecember, with a view to adoption by the end ofMarch. The exercise is proceeding rathersmoothly through wide consultations (sometensions may stem from the attempt of Islamicreligious leaders to introduce Islamic law inAceh). GAM is fully committed to the processand sees the law as the main dividend of peaceand the guarantee of future self-government. Itis vital that GAM is enabled by the new provi-sions to evolve into a local political actor, and to

integrate in the governing structures. For this tohappen, it is crucial that the law is adopted intime for the local elections next year, which arescheduled to be held shortly after the expiry ofthe AMM mandate.

Cooperation between the AMM and theCommission is vital to outline a credible followup strategy to the mission itself and to keep thepeace process going. At the time of writing, theCommission is finalising a comprehensivepackage of measures to be submitted to MemberStates in the course of November. The package isdirected to supporting the implementation ofthe MoU and the consolidation of the politicalprocess. The measures envisaged include amajor communication campaign to make peo-ple aware of the content of the MoU, help withthe organisation of the local elections inApril 2006, as well as capacity building to set upviable police forces, a trusted judicial system andeffective public administration as a whole.

Human rightsThe human rights situation in Aceh shows signsof improvement, with the AMM playing an irre-placeable role, slowly consolidating the rule oflaw. During the first month since the launch ofthe mission, however, two major human rightsviolations have occurred, both consisting of anexcess of force on the part of Indonesianforces.27 Both former GAM members and thecivilian population are the subject of extortion,intimidation, harassment by the Indonesianarmy and police or by isolated gangs of GAMmembers beyond the control of their leadership.

Confidence in the rule of law and the effectivepursuit of criminal offences by Indonesian forcesis still low, but the overall situation is improvingby all standards. Thanks to the distributions ofdistrict offices across the region, the AMM has

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25 Interviews on the phone with AMM staff at mission headquarters and personnel of the Aceh Support Team in the Council Secretariat,October/November 2005.26 At the regional level, three drafting exercises are ongoing: one is promoted by the Governor of Aceh, a second by civil societyorganisations and a third by the regional parliament. Interviews, see note 25.27 On the first occasion, a GAM member was shot dead by the police. The second episode saw the army shooting and wounding a formerGAM member. Interviews, see note 25.

28 It is encouraging that, at the national level, the Indonesian Parliament has ratified two basic UN instruments for the protection of humanrights: the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.National legislation will have to be amended accordingly, which cannot but benefit the human rights situation in Aceh over the mediumterm. 29 Within the Indonesian military structure, non-organic forces are those that are not deployed on a regular basis in a given region. Non-organic troops, such as the Special Forces, are dispatched when a conflict situation escalates to a degree that cannot be handled by‘organic’, territorial units. For a detailed report of the military movements related to the conflict in Aceh since 1998 see ‘SecurityDisorders’, Inside Indonesia, January-March 2003, available at www.insideindonesia.org 30 Consideration should also be given to the ‘quality’ of the forces withdrawn from Aceh. While the redeployment of special forces hasstarted ahead of the schedule originally proposed by the Indonesian Army, it is likely that intelligence units will remain on the ground tillthe end of the year. Interviews, see note 25.31 Feira European Council, 19-20 June 2000, Presidency Conclusions. ESDP civilian crisis management operations include the PoliceMission in Bosnia and Herzegovina (EUPM), launched in January 2003 (Joint Action 2002/210/CFSP); the Police Mission in FYROM(EUPOL Proxima) in December 2003 (Joint Action 2003/681/CFSP); the Rule of Law mission in Georgia (EUJUST Themis) in July 2004(Joint Action 2004/253/CFSP); the Police Mission in DRC (EUPOL Kinshasa) in April 2005 (Joint Action 2004/847/CFSP) and theintegrated Rule of Law mission for Iraq (EUJUST LEX) in July 2005 (Joint Action 2005/190/CFSP). The action launched to support theefforts of the African Union with its intervention in Darfur – AMIS II – also has a civilian component. It was launched in July 2005 (JointAction 2005/557/CFSP). ‘From Copenhagen to Brussels – European Defence: core documents’, Chaillot Paper 67, Volume IV, December2003 and ‘EU security and defence – Core documents 2004’, Chaillot Paper 75, Volume V, February 2005.

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engaged in daily dialogue with civilian and mili-tary authorities at local level to raise awareness ofinternational standards of human rights protec-tion and of best police practice. Capacity build-ing in this direction is also part of the Commis-sion’s above-mentioned proposals. Civilians areshowing more willingness to come forward anddenounce abuses, although that is a slow process.AMM officials proactively investigate the inci-dents that are brought to their attention.28

Decommissioning and redeploymentThe timetable of these two processes is closelyinterlinked. Understandably, the Indonesianarmy and police will maintain their commit-ment to disengage non-organic forces29 fromthe region only on the condition that weapons’decommissioning proceeds according to plan.Both decommissioning and redeployment aresupposed to take place in four stages, three ofwhich have already been successfully completedunder AMM scrutiny. The Mobile Decommis-sioning Teams of the mission play a crucial rolein supervising decommissioning and destroyingthe weapons surrendered by GAM fighters.Risks of clashes remain, notably due to the trans-fer of considerable stocks of weapons across theregion and to the loose control exercised byGAM on a small number of its district com-manders, who are more or less openly reluctantto abide by the MoU. So far, Indonesian forces

have fulfilled their engagements with over15,000 troops withdrawn by the end of October.The third phase will start in mid-November.30

3.5 The AMM and EU civiliancrisis management: incrementalprogress

Set in the context of the ongoing efforts tostrengthen the civilian crisis management capa-bilities of the Union, the AMM seems to go in theright direction. Emphasis on the ability of theUnion to deploy a wide toolbox to address crisismanagement is central to the European dis-course. Civilian capabilities are in short supplyyet in growing demand worldwide: the Union isa candidate to become the main securityprovider in its neighbourhood and beyond.

Monitoring under ESDPFollowing the early definition of the four basicareas for the development of civilian capabilities– police, rule of law, civil administration andcivil protection – at the European Council inFeira in June 2000, Member States pledged per-sonnel and resources and the Union has sinceundertaken six civilian crisis management oper-ations up to August 2005.31 In parallel to

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

progress in the field, the Union has produced‘concepts’ that frame the missions to belaunched under ESDP, defining in broad termstheir scope, principles and requirements. Bytheir very nature, these concepts tend to bestatic, not really suited to a continuous updat-ing according to lessons learnt from each mis-sion. On the other hand concept papers are partof a process of progressive convergence ofnational views around the essential characteris-tics of ESDP missions.

The EU adopted a Concept for EU Monitor-ing Missions in October 200332 according towhich a monitoring mission’s primary activity‘is to observe, monitor and report…on the gen-eral political and security situation in the hostcountry or in relation to a specific agreement.’Other tasks might include ‘contribution in con-fidence building…low level conflict resolutionand de-escalation assistance, facilitating con-tacts between civil society and governmentand/or disputants etc.’ EU monitoring missionswere also defined by referring to what they arenot: they do not have a coercive deterrent capac-ity, do not have inspection authority and are notinvolved in implementing programmes. Differ-ent sorts of monitoring missions were envisagedin the concept, depending on the phase of con-flict at which they are deployed and on the spe-cific monitoring tasks including ceasefires,demobilisation and disarmament, refugeereturn, human rights etc.

Moreover, it was made clear that a monitor-ing mission ‘constitutes an integral part of anoverall EU effort to prevent or resolve a conflict.There should be a clear coordination with otherEU actors and instruments in the same area.’The rapid deployment of an ‘advance party’ witha sort of fact-finding function was also envis-aged to identify needs and prepare for procure-ment. One year after the adoption of the con-cept, in June 2004, the Action Plan for Civilian

Aspects of ESDP identified monitoring as one ofthe areas where the EU needs to develop itscapacity further.33 As a result, monitoring waspointed out as a new important area for EU civil-ian crisis management at the Civilian Capabili-ties Commitment Conference in November2004.34 Member States declared that they wouldcommit 505 monitors to equip this arm of EUcrisis management.

Assessed against the Concept for EU Moni-toring Missions and the subsequent stepstowards setting up a real monitoring capacityfor ESDP, the AMM measures up well to the out-lined objectives and expectations. From thisstandpoint, three priorities can be extrapolatedfrom the landmark Action Plan and CapabilitiesConference of 2004, as well as from the docu-ment on the Civilian Headline Goal 200835

adopted by the European Council in December2004: integrated crisis management, rapid reac-tion and adequate financial resources.

Integrated crisis managementDrawing upon the full range of instrumentsavailable for crisis management – be they withinthe toolbox of CFSP, Community competencesor Member States’ capabilities – is the key to con-fronting increasingly complex crisis manage-ment situations. A horizontal approach is advo-cated to deploy multifunctional civilian crisismanagement resources in an integrated format.The AMM is a good example of a ‘complex’ mis-sion where the breadth of the mandate required adiverse expertise among the monitors, many ofwhom had a military background and know-how. More particularly, the 2004 Action Planenvisaged that the Union should seek additionalexpertise in areas ranging from human rights toSecurity Sector Reform (SSR) and from Disar-mament, Demobilisation and Reintegration(DDR), to mediation. Some of these are among

32 EU Doc., 14536/03, 28 October 2003.33 Action Plan for Civilian Aspects of ESDP, adopted by the European Council, Brussels, 17-18 June 2004.34 EU Doc., 14848/04, 22 November 2004, Civilian Capabilities Commitment Conference, Ministerial Declaration, Brussels.35 EU Doc., 15863/04, 7 December 2004.

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36 EU Doc., 10462/05, 23 June 2005.

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the tasks that the AMM is mandated to overseeand, in many cases, assist with. The high qualityof the numerous national candidates thatresponded to the last-minute call from theCouncil Secretariat in August bodes well for theability of the Union to draw upon a wider pool ofexpertise. It is worth noting that the AMM hasachieved some notable ‘firsts’ in terms of integra-tion. Not only is it a viable operation withASEAN partners, but it has also brought mili-tary, ex-military and civilians together to form acredible and extremely efficient team. The EUhas successfully deployed human rights moni-tors alongside Explosive Ordnance Disposalexperts, which constitutes a model for howfuture ESDP operations could be conducted.

Concerning another important dimensionof the implementation of the Action Plan, onecould argue that the TAM and, as of the 15August, the IMP went some way towards fillingthe notion of Civilian Response Teams (CRT).36

Developed by the Council Secretariat in closedialogue with the Commission, and upon thestrong initiative of some Member States includ-ing Sweden, the concept of CRT responds to thestated requirement to deploy multifunctionalcivilian crisis management resources in an inte-grated format. A CRT is a ‘rapid reaction capa-bility of flexible size and composition’ man-dated to ‘carry out assessment and fact findingmissions [and] provide input to the develop-ment of a crisis management concept’ before theadoption of a Joint Action, ‘establish a rapidoperational presence in the field’ after the adop-tion of a Joint Action and provide ‘timely rein-forcement of existing EU mechanisms for crisismanagement’ in response to urgent needs. Leav-ing aside the distinctive procedures envisaged toestablish the CRT, the launch of the AMM pro-vided a sort of test case for the future implemen-tation of the concept. The TAM and the IMPprovided tangible evidence of EU commitmentand enhanced the confidence of the parties inthe peace process, assessed the context and therequirements for the launch of the mission and

made a decisive contribution to the elaborationof the crisis management concept.

The 2004 Action Plan also acknowledgedthat the ‘Community makes a substantial con-tribution to civilian crisis management and itsinstruments will continue to be a core elementin the EU’s response.’ As illustrated above, coop-eration on the ground in Aceh is proceeding sat-isfactorily, with a particular emphasis on thelong-term sustainability of the reintegration offormer fighters and prisoners and on support tolocal institutions and political actors. Aspointed out in the Action Plan, the added valueof the Community intervention lies primarily(although not exclusively) in the continuity thatit provides to the measures adopted in the con-text of ESDP missions. The progressive elabora-tion of a follow up strategy to the AMM, whosemandate is due to expire on 15 March 2006,seems set on the right path.

The means for rapid reactionThe AMM was set up in the space of essentiallysix weeks over the summer period, and the TAMand IMP were deployed within only a few days:this is no time by crisis management standards.Contrary to what is duly envisaged for the futureCRT, however, the logistic support capacity wassorely lacking. As reported, even accommoda-tion and office facilities had to be sought in situby the team. Basic equipment such as computersand mobile communication was provided byMember States on an ad hoc basis and in a ratheruncoordinated manner.

With the Civil Military Cell yet to be fully inplace, a small team in the Council Secretariatcarried the burden of a hectic planning phase. Inthis connection, one should go back to theshortcomings listed at the Civilian CapabilitiesCommitment Conference at the end of 2004,notably including ‘mission and planning sup-port capability, adequate financing, the abilityof the EU to deploy at short notice, and procure-ment.’ It was also urgent to address ‘arrange-

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

ments and mechanisms in the areas of opera-tional support, logistics, security of personneland mission protection.’37 These issues are atthe centre of the Civilian Headline Goal 2008.Drawing from the Aceh experience, a lot ofground has arguably yet to be covered, althoughthe right priorities have been identified.

Financial resourcesThe 2004 Action Plan recognised that ‘the levelof ambition for EU civilian crisis managementoperations require the strengthening of theCFSP budget.’38 In the same vein, Javier Solanareminded Heads of State and Government atthe Hampton Court informal summit that aCFSP budget of at least 85 million euros wouldbe required next year simply to meet existingcommitments.39 The fact that EU CFSPrequires more money to deliver is widelyacknowledged by both Member States and EUinstitutions, but solutions diverge as to how toachieve this.

In the course of the negotiations precedingthe launch of the AMM the Council legal servicerestated the clear-cut separation between theCFSP budget line and EC funding. The argu-ment of the legal service is backed by the keyprovisions under EU law concerning CFSPfunding. As recalled above, according to Art.28.3 TEU, the CFSP budget covers the operatingexpenditure stemming from the implementa-tion of the provisions of TitleV, with the excep-tion of ESDP military operations and of those

cases where the Council acting unanimouslydecides otherwise. Paragraph H of the 1999Inter-institutional Agreement explicitly statesthat ‘The total amount of operational CFSPexpenditure will be entered entirely in onebudget chapter (CFSP).’40 It follows that thecommon costs of ESDP civilian crisis manage-ment operations are borne by the CFSP budget,whereas Member States cover the salaries oftheir nationals.

Some, however, argued that the Councillegal service provided a rather restrictive inter-pretation of these provisions. In its response tothe Commission’s proposal concerning thefunding of the AMM, the legal service assertedthat the EC could not finance civilian crisismanagement operations pursuing objectivesthat pertain to CFSP and not to the Commu-nity. It added that the financing of a monitoringmission clearly fell within the remit of CFSPunder TitleV and was therefore regulated by Art.28 TEU. Surely, monitoring falls in the contextof CFSP/ESDP.

Some of the objectives pursued by civil crisismanagement operations, and monitoring mis-sions in particular, however, are not dissimilarfrom the objectives set for Community action bya number of legal instruments.41 Reintegrationand reconciliation, for example, are arguablynot exclusive objectives of CFSP, but respond tothe priorities set for the external action of theUnion to stabilise post-crisis situations. Thisseems notably the case when looking at the wide,political mandate of the AMM. An intimate link

37 Op. cit. in note 34.38 Op. cit. in note 33. For an early analysis of the debate surrounding the financing of ESDP operations, see Antonio Missiroli, ‘€uros forESDP: financing EU operations’, Occasional Paper 45, EUISS, June 2003.39 Daniel Donbey, ‘Solana to stress strain on EU foreign Policy’, Financial Times, 27 October 2005. The 2005 CFSP budget amounts to only62.5 million euros. Following the launch of two missions in the Palestinian Territories, the amount required to sustain the running costs iscloser to 100 million euros which is the amount around which an agreement seems to have been reached for the 2006 budget. Themissions in question are EUPOL COPPS, established with Joint Action 13696/05, 14 November 2005 and the EU Border AssistanceMission at Rafah Crossing Point (EU BAM Rafah), operational as of the opening of the Rafah crossing point on 25 November.40 Op. cit. in note 11.41 See for example the CARDS Regulation, (EC) 2666/2000, 5 December 2000, whereby the Community assistance can support‘reconstruction, aid for the return of refugees and displaced persons and the stabilisation of the region’ as well as ‘the creation of aninstitutional and legislative framework to underpin democracy, rule of law and human and minority rights, reconciliation and theconsolidation of civil society, the independence of the media and the strengthening of the legality and of measures to combat organisedcrime.’ (Article 2.2). See also the ‘Human Rights’ Regulation (EC) 975/1999, 29 April 1999, according to which the Community can support‘measures to promote respect for human rights and democratisation by preventing conflict and dealing with its consequences [and]measures facilitating the peaceful conciliation of group interests, in order to prevent conflict and restore civil peace.’ (Article 2.3).

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exists between the fulfilment of the AMM man-date and the establishment of a comprehensiveframework of flanking measures by the Com-mission.

On the other hand, it would be questionableto extend this line of argument as far as blurringthe distinction between Community interven-tion and ESDP missions and, by implication,between their budgets and lines of command.ESDP civilian operations arguably present threedistinctive features: there is an important secu-rity dimension to EU intervention, MemberStates wish to retain the strategic control andpolitical direction of the mission through theCouncil structures, and the implementation ofthe mandate requires a degree of politicalauthority and responsibility in engaging withlocal actors that the Community cannot deliver.

The debate on whether, where and how todraw the line between action by the Communityand ESDP civilian operations in crisis situationsabroad goes beyond the scope of this paper. Var-ious, and often divergent, arguments have beendeployed by the relevant institutional actors,and by Member States. It seems at the very leastimportant that decisions on these matters aretaken with a view to softening, and not harden-ing, the separation between the instrumentsavailable to the EU, moving beyond institu-tional jealousies.

3.6 Conclusion

With the AMM, the EU has taken yet anotherstep on the path towards becoming a globalactor and security provider. It is important tostress once again that the EU, in associationwith ASEAN, was the only body acceptable to allparties to oversee the implementation of theMoU. That is a telling recognition of the inter-national credibility of EU intervention underESDP. Cooperation with ASEAN also provides

an additional demonstration of the determina-tion of the Union to support regional organisa-tions as effective partners in enhancing peaceand stability across the world, following the sig-nificant but not entirely successful cooperationwith the African Union. This is an important,tangible contribution to the concept of effectivemultilateralism.

Learning from past experiences, all EU actorson the ground have done their best to establishregular and constructive cooperation with aview to maximising the output of the AMM andto prepare a sustainable perspective for peaceover the long term, although much will ofcourse depend on the enduring commitment oflocal parties. Lessons should be drawn from theproactive and highly professional performanceof the AMM and of Commission officials with aview to joining forces for new, more demandingoperations, such as those in Palestine and per-haps Kosovo.

At the same time, the success of the AMMshould be assessed with a more critical eye, andput in perspective. The size and the financialburden of the mission are modest, although notnegligible by ESDP standards. The difficulty inlaunching the mission is a telling reminder ofthe shortcomings undermining the long-termsustainability of ESDP. Issues of financing, pro-curement, logistical support and capabilities forrapid deployment can no longer be avoided, asacknowledged by the 2004 Action Plan and thesubsequent document on the Civilian HeadlineGoal 2008. The envisaged establishment of CRTand progress towards a comprehensive plan-ning process for ESDP missions go in the rightdirection. In the spirit of the ConstitutionalTreaty and of the European Security Strategy,however, further steps should be envisaged tomore effectively mobilise the resources andcapabilities available to the Union, bridginginstitutional divides while preserving therespective competences and prerogatives ofnational and European actors.

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

a

37

Annex

Abbreviations

ALA Asia and Latin America (programme)

AMM Aceh Monitoring Mission

ASEAN Association of Southeast Asian Nations

CFSP Common Foreign and Security Policy

CRT Civilian Response Teams

CONOPS Concept of Operations

EC European Community

EU European Union

ESDP European Security and Defence Policy

GAERC General Affairs and External Relations Council

GAM Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka)

IMP Initial Monitoring Presence

MoU Memorandum of Understanding

OPLAN Operation Plan

PKI Indonesian Communist Party

PSC Political and Security Committee

RRM Rapid Reaction Mechanism

SG/RH Secretary-General of the EU Council and High Representative for CFSP

TAM Technical Assessment Mission

TUE Treaty on European Union

n°60 The EU in Moldova – Settling conflicts in the neighbourhood October 2005Nicu Popescu

n°59 L’évolution stratégique du Japon : un enjeu pour l’Union Juin 2005Régine Serra

n°58 L’Union et l’Afrique subsaharienne : quel partenariat ? Mai 2005Roland Sourd

n°57 The democratic legitimacy of European Security and Defence Policy April 2005Wolfgang Wagner

n°56 From America’s protégé to constructive European. Polish securityin the twenty-first century December 2004Marcin Zaborowski

n°55 La gestion des crises en Afrique subsaharienne. Le rôle de l’Unioneuropéenne (traduction et actualisation du nº 51) Novembre 2004Fernanda Faria

n°54 EU enlargement and armaments. Defence industries and markets ofthe Visegrad countries September 2004Timo Behr and Albane Siwiecki; edited by Burkard Schmitt

n°53 Europe’s next shore: the Black Sea region after EU enlargement June 2004Mustafa Aydin

n°52 Rethinking the Euro-Mediterranean political and security dialogue May 2004Rosa Balfour

n°51 Crisis management in sub-Saharan Africa. The role of the EuropeanUnion April 2004Fernanda Faria

n°50 For our eyes only? Shaping an intelligence community within the EU January 2004Björn Müller-Wille

n°49 EU cohesion in the UN General Assembly December 2003Paul Luif

n°48 Space and security policy in Europe: Executive summary December 2003Stefano Silvestri, Rapporteur

n°47 EU and Ukraine: a turning point in 2004? November 2003Taras Kuzio

n°46 EU-Russian security dimensions July 2003Edited by Dov Lynch

n°45 €uros for ESDP: financing EU operations June 2003Antonio Missiroli

n°44 The Galileo satellite system and its security implications April 2003Gustav Lindström with Giovanni Gasparini

Occasional Papers

All Occasional Paperscan be accessed via the institute’s website:

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ISBN 92-9198-083-8ISSN 1608-5000