absolving the dictator

AQ: Journal of Contemporary Analysis, Vol.73, No.3, May-June 2001

 

In his mystic acceptance of the principle of autocracy he was bent on extirpating from the land every vestige of anything that resembled freedom in public institutions; and in his ruthless persecution of the rising generation he seemed to aim at the destruction of the very hope of liberty itself. It is said that this execrated personality had not enough imagination to be aware of the hate he inspired.
Joseph Conrad
Under Western Eyes

 

History will judge Suharto as a criminal -- for his crimes against humanity, for the massacres of the people, for the deprivation of their rights without trial, for all the killings that he perpetrated. Every human being has the right to bring charges against Suharto for his crimes against humanity. His whole rule was a huge lie against humanity. Compared to this, all the other crimes -- like corruption -- are petty crimes.
Pramoedya Ananta Toer

 

In the late hours of 30 September, 1965 a small group of middle-ranking Indonesian Army officers assassinated six senior generals and seized a number of streets in Jakarta for a few hours. The mutiny or 'coup' as it misleadingly became known, was quickly suppressed by the commander of the Army's Strategic Reserve, Major-General Suharto, whom it now appears had prior knowledge of it but decided instead to betray its plotters (see Anderson & McVey 1971; Crouch 1978; Anderson 2000). In the immediate aftermath of the failed rebellion, Suharto exploited and inflamed public emotions, launching an extermination campaign against the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), which he falsely accused of masterminding the coup.

Between October 1965 and the end of January 1966, the PKI and thousands of its supporters were extirpated in one of the greatest mass killings of the twentieth century. Between half a million and perhaps more than one million people were slaughtered, either by the army itself or by Muslim and secular-nationalist vigilantes which the army encouraged, armed and directed (see Cribb 1990). Hundreds of thousands of others, often with little or no connection to the PKI, were tortured and imprisoned in inhumane conditions, some for decades.

A CIA report on the annihilation of the PKI claimed that "in terms of the numbers killed the anti-PKI massacres in Indonesia rank as one of the worst mass murders of the 20 th century, along with the Soviet purges of the 1930s, the Nazi mass murders during the Second World War and the Maoist bloodbaths of the 1950s" (CIA 1968, p.71). Historian Gabriel Kolko concurs, suggesting that "the 'final solution' to the Communist problem in Indonesia was certainly one of the most barbaric acts of inhumanity in a century that has seen a great deal of it; it surely ranks as a war crime of the same type as those the Nazis perpetrated" (Kolko 1988, p.181).

Many aspects of these events remain obscure, including the respective roles of Sukarno, Suharto, the PKI and senior military officers in the planning and execution of the coup. A major reason for this uncertainty is the under-examined nature of events by Indonesians themselves and an overeliance on Western accounts. The coup and its gruesome aftermath remain a taboo subject in Indonesia three years after Suharto's departure from office, although some courageous figures who formed the Indonesian Institute for the Study of the 1965/1966 Massacres (YPKP) are beginning to rectify the historical record (see http://www.wirantaprawira.de/ypkp/ypkp_1a.htm ).

It is possible, however, to be more certain about the reaction of Australian officials and academics to the post-coup slaughter. It will be argued that a particular, and largely fictional account of events in 1965-6 disseminated by both the intellectual class and the policy elite can, at least in part, explain Australian foreign policy towards Indonesia ever since.

untroubled consciences

Early Australian responses to the killings were remarkably enthusiastic, undoubtedly conditioned by the apparent worthiness of the victims. Heinz Arndt accurately measured the mood in some quarters when he claimed that "the Australian Government, supported by the great majority of the Australian public, made no secret of its relief and delight at the turn of events in Indonesia which followed the October 1965 coup attempt" (my emphasis, Arndt 1972, p.58). As Sukarno's biographer John Legge remarked, "perhaps because it was communists who were being killed, the conscience of the outside world seemed comparatively undisturbed by what must rank, in any assessment, as one of the bloodiest massacres in modern history" (Legge 1972, p.399). In fact, many consciences were far from being disturbed (for US responses see Chomsky 1993, pp.121-37). It seems that, as Chomsky and Herman have written, "bloodbaths and terror that contribute substantially to a favourable investment climate are 'constructive' in the sense that they advance the end that clearly ranks highest in the priorities of Free World leaders" (Chomsky & Herman 1980, p.205).

By 1965 the outside world - or more accurately the West - was particularly concerned about the popularity of the world's third largest communist party. According to Harold Crouch, "the PKI had won widespread support not as a revolutionary party but as an organisation defending the interests of the poor within the existing system," developing a "mass base among the peasantry" through its "vigor in defending the interests of the...poor" (Crouch 1978, pp.351 & 155). Clearly the popularity of the PKI was a much greater threat to Western interests than any armed insurgency, which presumably explains Western indifference to its awful fate.

For those in Australia with political sympathy for the turn of events in Indonesia, it was important to portray the nascent Suharto regime in the best possible light, even if that meant consciously distancing the new Government from the violence which it incited after the failed coup. Thus ANU academic Heinz Arndt wrote in 1968 that

along side it [consensus] there is still much exercise of arbitrary power by civil and military officials, especially outside Djakarta, acts of oppression, even persecution of actual or suspected enemies of the new regime. But most of this reflects, not the will of the Suharto Government, but its inability or reluctance to assert its will.... The Suharto Government is genuinely and desperately anxious not to be thought undemocratic, militaristic, dictatorial. It wants to educate and persuade not to ride roughshod over anyone.... It is no mean thing that Indonesia now has a very much more moderate, more rational, more pragmatic leadership than for many years, perhaps at any time since independence... (Arndt 1968, pp.92-5).

One will search in vain for a more apologetic and misleading account of the first two years of the New Order in Indonesia, though to be fair to the author he later came close to conceding the tuth when he suggested that critics in Australia have "never forgiven Suharto for what he did to the Indonesian Communist Party in 1965" (Arndt letter to editor, Quadrant, January-February, 1992).

The moral conscience of the outside world was not just undisturbed by the slaughter. An ethical concern about what happened was portrayed by some as a sign of weakness which would only disguise the condign punishment meted out by Suharto to the unarmed and legal PKI and its allies. In an extraordinarily honest response to the massacres, Indonesia specialist Bruce Grant argued that,

Australian respect for the self-regulatory capacity of Indonesian society has increased. No doubt a major reason for this was the large-scale massacre of communists and communist sympathisers after the abortive coup of 30 September 1965. This can also be seen as a failure of Indonesian society, laying trouble in store for the future. But for Australians, at present aware of their own inability to deal militarily with communism in Vietnam, there is a cruel lesson of encouragement in the fact that the Indonesian army, unaided, accomplished what armies of the Americans and its allies have been unable to accomplish in South Vietnam. The massacres have troubled many Australian consciences. However, a troubled conscience is a perpetual burden these days. In state relations, the removal of the communists as an effective force in Indonesia - at least for time being - makes official Australian support for the Suharto Government more confident (Grant 1972, p.87).  

Grant's disappointment that his "cruel lesson of encouragement" was not heeded by either the outgoing McMahon administration or the incoming Whitlam Government was more than matched by those Vietnamese who had learnt at great cost what the "armies of the Americans and its allies" had "accomplished" in South Vietnam. Ironically, his disdain for troubled consciences would be echoed a few years later in Christopher Koch's fictional rendition of Suharno's denouement, The Year of Living Dangerously. In his departing conversation with Australian journalist Guy Hamilton, PKI cadre Kumar upbraids Hamilton for his reactionary politics: "Of course - you Westerners worry about 'conscience'. I tell you something, boss - we do not understand what you mean by this conscience. I do something wrong, and I am caught, I lose face. That is all. But conscience, what is that? If we worry about it, how do we change things?" (Koch 1978, p.289). Grant would, no doubt, concur.

Given that Grant's academic conscience was untroubled by the scale of the killings seven years on - they were only communists after all - the immediate reaction in Canberra comes as no surprise. Cabinet records reveal that in May 1966, the then Minister for External Affairs, Paul Hasluck, secretly urged that financial and political support be given to General Suharto at a time when the exact nature of the power structure in Indonesia after the mutiny was still unclear (The Age, 1.1.97). By July 1966, the haze had lifted sufficiently for a relieved Prime Minister Harold Holt to tell the River Club of New York City that "with 500,000 to 1,000,000 Communist sympathisers knocked off, I think it is safe to assume a reorientation has taken place" (New York Times, 6.7.66). It should be noted that these were responses to what Hasluck's Department [of External Affairs] described in its 1967 Annual report as "the coup attempted by the Indonesian Communist Party on 1 October, 1965" (Commonwealth of Australia 1967, p.8). Suharto's mythologising seems to have been willingly and uncritically accepted in Canberra.

Regardless of its means, the "reorientation" brought the bilateral relationship back to where both the Government and much of the academic community in Australia preferred it should remain. As a leading historian of Australian foreign policy has remarked, "the downfall of Sukarno and the installation of an anti-communist military-dominated government brought Australian-Indonesian relations to the 'normality' they had never quite been able previously to acquire" (Millar 1991, p.195).

suharto's responsibility

Undoubtedly the most curious anomaly in the historiography of the period has been the question of Suharto's responsibility for the massacres which followed the failed mutiny. In the vast majority of mainstream commentary the killings which began in October 1965 are treated as a spontaneous popular upheaval, without direction and therefore without direct responsibility. As Robert Cribb has argued, "if anything, the Indonesian killings have been treated as if they fall into an anomalous category of 'accidental' mass death" (Cribb 1990, p.16). Nothing could be further from the truth.

As Cribb says, "a carefully orchestrated campaign of disinformation about events at Halim airforce base on the night of the coup portraying the party (PKI), which had previously enjoyed an enviable reputation for chastity and incorruptibility, as a hotbed of immorality" built its image as "a demonic force whose destruction would be a service to the nation" (Cribb 1990, p.29). According to Benedict Anderson, author of the most detailed examination of the events surrounding the coup, "on 6 October, the mass media, wholly controlled by Suharto forces, launched a campaign to the effect that the generals had had their eyes gouged out and their genitals severed by sadistic Gerwani women [a Communist women's organisation]... The propaganda campaign [which was entirely fabricated] did more than anything to create the atmosphere of hysteria across Indonesia which made it possible, in the following months, for more than half a million members of the common project to be murdered in the most horrible ways, completely outside the law, and with not a single murderer ever being brought before a court of law" (Anderson 1999, p.12).

In his judicious survey of events, Harold Crouch notes that Suharto's claim about PKI involvement in the coup was made despite a lack of any evidence and before a proper investigation had been conducted. The army leadership demanded "revenge" and "retribution". Its "goal in encouraging the massacre of PKI supporters was to eliminate the PKI as a political force" (Crouch 1978, pp.139 & 153). Such was the tense atmosphere created by Army propaganda, it was unnecessary for edicts authorising the killings to be issued. According to Crouch, "Suharto did not send formal, written orders instructing them [regional Army commanders] on how to deal with the PKI. Instead the message that the PKI had to be crushed was conveyed informally, leaving local commanders to decide the means to be used" (Crouch 1978, p.141).

According to Chomsky and Herman, "in mid-November of 1965 Suharto formally authorised a 'cleaning out' of the Indonesian Communist Party and set up special military teams to supervise this final solution. The army played a key role in this holocaust, doing a large part of the killing directly, supplying trucks, weapons and encouragement to paramilitary and vigilante death squads, and actively stimulating anti-Communist hysteria that contributed greatly to wholesale mass murder. A key part in stirring up a mood of butchery was played by media fabrications, which were concocted with a sophistication suggestive of outside assistance" - a claim which has been substantiated by revelations of the role played by the US embassy in Jakarta in identifying Communist leaders for the Army to target (Chomsky & Herman, p.207; Chomsky 1993, p.131).

Though he deliberately and untruthfully understates the role of the Army in the killings, Suharto takes credit for what happened to the PKI in those awful months after the mutiny. It's extraordinary how few have subsequently been prepared to take him at his word:

When I saw for myself what had been discovered at Labang Buaya [where the bodies of the slain generals were found], I felt that my primary duty was to destroy the PKI, to smash their resistance everywhere, in the capital and in the regions, even in their hide-outs in the mountains... But I had no intentions of involving the Army directly in the conflict, except wher forced to do so, at the right moment. I preferred to help the people defend themselves and rid their own environment of the roots of the evil (Suharto1991, p.113).

Suharto, however, did much more than foment public anger. His KOSTRAD headquarters became a central collection point for military reports from around the country detailing the capture and killing of PKI leaders - the place where the slaughter was audited, where firing squads were organised and where commands for specific killings were issued. According to one analyst,

systematic killing occurred under army instigation in staggered stages, the worst occurring as Colonel Sarwo Edhie's RPKAD [Army Paracommando Regiment] moved from Jakarta to Central and East Java, and finally to Bali. Civilians involved in the massacre were either recruited and trained by the army on the spot, or were drawn from groups (such as the army- and CIA-sponsored SOKSI trade unions [Central Organization of Indonesian Socialist Employees], and allied student organizations) which had collaborated for years with the army on political matters (Scott 1985).

Even a cursory examination of the evidence suggests that Crouch's claim that "the huge scale of the massacres was possible only because of the encouragement given by the army," seems modest and incontrovertible (Crouch 1978, p.156).

spontaneous combustion

The thread which ties Koch's Year of Living Dangerously together is Billy Kwan's growing disillusionment with President Sukarno, from hero-worship to vilification. But the true politics of the central player in the drama are the subject of mere speculation until Kwan's private files are exposed by Cookie, the narrator. In a passage which explains why Koch's Orientalism is so admired by the anti-communist right in Australia, Kwan sets the scene which will subsequently provide the rationale for Suharto's purge of the PKI. In an imaginary dialogue with Bung Karno, Kwan writes:

You are still the great dalang. The Wayang of the Left and the Right are still in your hands. But what predominance you now give to the godless Wayang of the Left!....the shadow of Aidit [PKI Head] grows and grows.... In Comrade Aidit's heart there is no romanticism about revolution, no true love of the soil of Indonesia, no belief in the five principles of Pantja Sila! He and his cadres would stamp out the ancient dreams which are the spiritual life-blood of the country. The myths would be perverted into propaganda, the life of the spirit stilled in the name of the full belly, and love of God made an offence. Islam would be extinguished, and so would joy.... Only Nasution, of the Muslim Army leaders, could check the PKI if you were removed, Sukarno . (p.132)

And in a later entry

It is while you live, Sukarno, that Aidit will take over. Then you will rule as a puppet from Merdeka palace: Aidit will be the dalang then!.... I see all this: and I see that someone must do the job to free the Muslims' hands.... Yes: the Muslims need an instrument. (p.242)

As things turned out, the instrument would not be Nasution but "the quiet, unconsidered Major-General Suharto, who will emerge at the eleventh hour as the drama's alus hero, and his country's new prince" [Narrator] (p.276). But this is about as much as we get on the Wayang of the Right, although the sentiment is clear. It's at this point that Koch repeats Suharto's lie about the mutilation of the generals by Gerwani women (p.270), and in a unspecific concession to the obvious, he links Suharto's statement about the condition of the corpses with the ensuing slaughter: "the alus prince had created an anger in Java which would lead to a blood-bath" (p.287), though the reader is left in no doubt who is ultimately responsible for the killings.

According to Peter Dale Scott, "U.S. officials, journalists and scholars, some with rather prominent CIA connections, are perhaps principally responsible for the myth that the bloodbath was a spontaneous, popular revulsion to what U.S. Ambassador Jones later called PKI 'carnage'" (Scott 1985). Nonetheless, Koch's Orientalist novel remains the most sophisticated articulation of the 'spontaneous combustion' thesis, which has been widely internalised by academics, journalists and politicians in Australia. In fact it could fairly be described as the orthodox version of events. The pattern is broadly similar, regardless of the specific author - acknowledge something dreadful happened in late 1965 and early 1966 as a consequence of a period of appalling economic chaos and anti-Western feeling, when Sukarno lost control of the country and the PKI were poised to take over. Then emphasise the uncertainty of events and the widely divergent death toll estimates, but don't ascribe direct responsibility for the killings to Suharto. Instead refer to a "backlash" against the attempted coup (Hill & Mackie 1994, p.xxiv), an irrational popular frenzy or some appropriately benign phrase such as "regime change".

The 'spontaneous combustion' thesis, which implies that the post-coup slaughter was largely a random and unpredictable historical event, performs two important functions for its subscribers. First, it neatly dissolves the question of agency posed by Suharto's orchestration of and responsibility for the slaughter. Thus, the issue of Suharto's crimes against humanity need never arise - and hasn't. Secondly, it allows the myth that Suharto and the military saved the country from communism to retrospectively become the basis of the New Order regime's legitimacy. In turn, the Suharto administration was able to use the spectre of 'latent communism' to justify its ongoing political repression.

In mainstream academic commentary, Suharto's behaviour after the failed coup has rarely been specified in anything other than a 'reactive' sense. Historian Gordon Greenwood characterised the transition from Sukarno to Suharto in the terms which hide more than they reveal: "In Indonesia, following upon the provocation of the abortive PKI coup of 1965, the military acquired power and this led ultimately to the ascendancy of General Suharto" (Greenwood 1974, pp.21-2). That's it. Another historian, James Angel, writing in the same volume, described the aftermath of the coup in a strikingly imaginitive way: "Faced with the urgent and serious danger of civil war, the army moved swiftly to eliminate this threat to the Republic's survival and, within a matter of months, the associated dangers of a nation-wide communist rebellion and civil war had been averted", possibly because they never seriously existed. Angel goes on to say that "coinciding with the large scale fighting, a wave of anti-communist feeling and violence swept the country, with the army and Moslem groups taking an active part in eradicating their enemy", though the source of the wave remains unspecified (Angel 1974, p.380).

Considering the number of historians who have addressed the question, the extent to which this orthodoxy still prevails is remarkable. At one extreme there are apologists who argue that " even in human rights there is a case for Suharto" and that the General was merely a "monster of the Left's imagination" (Greg Sheridan, The Australian, 20.5.98; The Australian Review of Books, Vol. 5, No.11, December 2000). Just as remarkably, one academic turned public servant described the slaughter of " between 500,000 and 1 million people ...in the social chaos" of the period as "the last time the government lost control in Indonesia," an assessment diametrically opposed to the truth (McCawley 1983, p.85). More commonly and sensibly, Suharto's connection with the slaughter is simply ignored (for example, Ricklefs 1981, p.274).

In three biographical reviews written in May 1998 after his political demise by academic Jaimie Mackie, journalist Greg Sheridan, and his colleague Paul Kelly, Suharto's role in one of the century's worst bloodbaths was passed over in complete silence (The Australian, 20.5.98). There were oblique references to the "social and political upheaval that marked the 1965-67 transition from Sukarno to Suharto" [Mackie] and a bizarre claim that "in 1965, Suharto disclosed himself as the Winston Churchill of Indonesia - the one man who took control in a desperate crisis and saved his nation from utter devestation" [Sheridan] and that "in the early days his Government was a model of consultation" [Sheridan], but no ascription of any responsibility for the slaughter. Can one imagine an obituary for Pol Pot which failed to mention his responsibility for the killing fields?

In former Prime Minister Paul Keating's book which advocates regional engagement for Australia, it is possible to find a paragraph which mentions both the 1965-6 killings and Suharto's rise to power, but makes no connection between the two (Keating 2000, p.125).

The spontaneous combustion thesis was an essential prerequisite for the normalisation of the Suharto regime in Australia. After all, people indicted for crimes against humanity can't be invited to APEC leaders summits. However, by itself it was clearly insufficient for a cynical Australian public with a long historical memory. Suharto's reputation had to be rehabilitated by those keen on developing a special relationship between Indonesia and Australia, or more accurately, Jakarta and Canberra. Thus Prime Minister Gough Whitlam claimed in 1973 that Suharto, whom he later described as a "reasonable and honest man",   had fully restored the "principles of harmony and justice, democracy and freedom embodied in the [Indonesian] constitution of 1945." A decade later, Prime Minister Bob Hawke told Suharto that "we know your people love you", though their love seemed unrequited (Whitlam 1997, p.71; http://www.dsp.org.au/etimor/05_quotes.htm#indo ).

In 1994 Prime Minister Keating lauded Suharto for producing a "tolerant society" and bringing "stability" to the region (Australian Financial Review, 17.3.94), without specifying exactly what had been stabilised in the country since 1966. Keating's praise echoes remarks made by Kim Beazley, who in 1989 claimed that "Australians pay far too little attention to the value to us of the stability" which the Suharto dictatorship "brought to the Indonesian archipelago." In words which are almost identical to remarks made by Whitlam in 1967, Beazley argued that if the PKI "had been victorious in the mid 1960s our security prospects over the last two decades would have been very different from the favourable circumstances we enjoy today" (The Courier Mail, 29.1.93). Victorious in what? Half a million or more deaths clearly haven't weighed too heavily on the conscience of the Labor Party.

Nor on the other side of politics. In 1996 Deputy Prime Minister Tim Fischer recommended that "when magazines look for the man of the world of the second half of this century, they perhaps should not look much further than Jakarta" (The Canberra Times, 15.5.96; South China Morning Post, 16.5.96). Suharto's many victims on the other hand, including 200,000 East Timorese killed between 1975 and 1978 in what has been described as the greatest slaughter relative to a population since the Holocaust, may suggest they look elsewhere.

Absolving Suharto of his crimes is a moral crime in itself. That it is practiced by many of the same people who excoriated the Left during the Cold War for allegedly supporting Soviet and Chinese communism, who demand that Khmer Rouge and Balkan leaders be brought before an international court, who insist that Japanese history textbooks be re-written from the victors' perspective, and who remain incapable of describing the American war in Vietnam as an invasion, tells us much about the standards of the political and intellectual class in contemporary Australia.

 

Commonwealth of Australia, Annual Report of the Department of External Affairs, 1 July 1966 - 30 June 1967, (Canberra 1967).

Central Intelligence Agency, Directorate of intelligence, Intelligence report: Indonesia-1965, The Coup that Backfired (CIA, Langley 1968).

H.W. Arndt, 'A Comment', Australian Outlook, Volume 22, Number 1, April 1968.

Benedict R. Anderson & Ruth T. McVey, A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965 Coup in Indonesia, (Modern Indonesia Project, Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University, Ithaca 1971).

Bruce Grant, The Crisis of Loyalty: A Study of Australian Foreign Policy (Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 1972).

H.W. Arndt, Australia and Asia: Economic Essays (ANU Press, Canberra 1972).

Gordon Greenwood, 'The International Background', in Gordon Greenwood & Norman Harper (eds), Australia In World Affairs 1966-1970 (Cheshire & AIIA, Melbourne 1974).

James Angel, 'Australia and Indonesia, 1961-1970', in Gordon Greenwood & Norman Harper (eds), Australia In World Affairs 1966-1970 (Cheshire & AIIA, Melbourne 1974).

Harold Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia (Cornell University Press, Ithaca 1978).

Christopher J. Koch, The Year of Living Dangerously (1978, Minerva edition, Kew 1997).

Noam Chomsky & Edward S. Herman, The Washington Connection and Third World Fascism: The Political Economy of Human Rights: Volume 1 (Hale & Ironmonger, Sydney 1980).

M.C. Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia: c1300 to the present (Indiana University Press, Bloomington 1981).

Peter McCawley, 'Australia's Misconceptions of ASEAN' in Paul Dibb (ed), Australia's External Relations in the 1980s (Croom Helm, Fyshwick 1983).

Peter Dale Scott, 'The United States and the Overthrow of Sukarno, 1965-1967', Pacific Affairs, 58, Summer 1985.

Gabriel. Kolko, Confronting the Third World (Pantheon, New York 1988).

Robert Cribb (ed), The Indonesian Killings 1965-1966: Studies from Java and Bali (Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, Clayton 1990).

T.B.Millar, Australia in Peace and War, (2nd edition, ANU Press, 1991).

Soeharto, My Thoughts, Words and Deeds: An Autobiography (Pt. Citra Lamtoro Gung Persada, Jakarta 1991).

Noam Chomsky, Year 501: The Conquest Continues (South End Press, Boston 1993).

Hall Hill & Jamie Mackie, 'Introduction' in Hall Hill (ed), Indonesia's New Order: The Dynamics of Socio-economic Transformation (Allen & Unwin, St Leonards 1994).

Carmel Budiardgo, Surviving Indonesia's Gulag (Cassell, London 1996).

Gough Whitlam, Abiding Interests (University of Queensland Press, St Lucia 1997).

Pramoedya Ananta Toer, The Mute's Soliloquy (Penguin, New York 1999).

Benedict Anderson, 'Indonesian Nationalism Today and in the Future', New Left Review, 235, May/June 1999.

Paul Keating, Engagement: Australia Faces The Asia-Pacific (Macmillan, Sydney 2000).

Benedict Anderson, 'Petrus Dadi Ratu', New Left Review, 3, May/June 2000.