In my film Death of a Nation, there is
a sequence filmed on board an Australian aircraft flying over the island of
Timor. A party is in progress, and two men in suits are toasting each other
in champagne. "This is an historically unique moment," says one of
them, "that is truly uniquely historical." This is Gareth Evans, Australia's
foreign minister. The other man is Ali Alatas, principal mouthpiece of the Indonesian
dictator, Gen. Suharto. It is 1989, and the two are making a grotesquely symbolic
flight to celebrate the signing of a treaty that allowed Australia and the international
oil and gas companies to exploit the seabed off East Timor, then illegally and
viciously occupied by Suharto. The prize, according to Evans, was "zillions
Beneath them lay a land of crosses: great black crosses etched against the
sky, crosses on peaks, crosses in tiers on the hillsides. Filming clandestinely
in East Timor, I would walk into the scrub and there were the crosses. They
littered the earth and crowded the eye. In 1993, the Foreign Affairs Committee
of the Australian Parliament reported that "at least 200,000" had
died under Indonesia's occupation: almost a third of the population. And yet
East Timor's horror, which was foretold and nurtured by the U.S., Britain, and
Australia, was actually a sequel. "No single American action in the period
after 1945," wrote the historian Gabriel Kolko, "was as bloodthirsty
as its role in Indonesia, for it tried to initiate the massacre." He was
referring to Suharto's seizure of power in 1965-1966, which caused the violent
deaths of up to a million people.
To understand the significance of Suharto, who died on Sunday, is to look beneath
the surface of the current world order: the so-called global economy and the
ruthless cynicism of those who run it. Suharto was our model mass murderer –
"our" is used here advisedly. "One of our very best and most
valuable friends," Thatcher called him, speaking for the West. For three
decades, the Australian, U.S., and British governments worked tirelessly to
minimize the crimes of Suharto's Gestapo, known as Kopassus, who were trained
by the Australian SAS and the British army and who gunned down people with British-supplied
Heckler and Koch machine guns from British-supplied Tactica "riot control"
vehicles. Prevented by Congress from supplying arms directly, U.S. administrations
from Gerald Ford to Bill Clinton provided logistic support through the back
door and commercial preferences. In one year, the British Department of Trade
provided almost a billion pounds worth of so-called soft loans, which allowed
Suharto to buy Hawk fighter-bombers. The British taxpayer paid the bill for
aircraft that dive-bombed East Timorese villages, and the arms industry reaped
the profits. However, the Australians distinguished themselves as the most obsequious.
In an infamous cable to Canberra, Richard Woolcott, Australia's ambassador to
Jakarta, who had been forewarned about Suharto's invasion of East Timor, wrote:
"What Indonesia now looks to from Australia … is some understanding of
their attitude and possible action to assist public understanding in Australia…."
Covering up Suharto's crimes became a career for those like Woolcott, while
"understanding" the mass murderer came in buckets. This left an indelible
stain on the reformist government of Gough Whitlam following the cold-blooded
killing of two Australian TV crews by Suharto's troops during the invasion of
East Timor. "We know your people love you," Bob Hawke told the dictator.
His successor, Paul Keating, famously regarded the tyrant as a father figure.
When Indonesian troops slaughtered at least 200 people in the Santa Cruz cemetery
in Dili, East Timor, and Australian mourners planted crosses outside the Indonesian
embassy in Canberra, foreign minister Gareth Evans ordered them destroyed. To
Evans, ever-effusive in his support for the regime, the massacre was merely
an "aberration." This was the view of much of the Australian press,
especially that controlled by Rupert Murdoch, whose local retainer, Paul Kelly,
led a group of leading newspaper editors to Jakarta, fawn before the dictator.
Here lies a clue as to why Suharto, unlike Saddam Hussein, died not on the
gallows but surrounded by the finest medical team his secret billions could
buy. Ralph McGehee, a senior CIA operations officer in the 1960s, describes
the terror of Suharto's takeover of Indonesia as "the model operation"
for the American-backed coup that got rid of Salvador Allende in Chile seven
years later. "The CIA forged a document purporting to reveal a leftist
plot to murder Chilean military leaders," he wrote, "[just like] what
happened in Indonesia in 1965." The U.S. embassy in Jakarta supplied Suharto
with a "zap list" of Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) members and
crossed off the names when they were killed or captured. Roland Challis, the
BBC's south east Asia correspondent at the time, told me how the British government
was secretly involved in this slaughter. "British warships escorted a ship
full of Indonesian troops down the Malacca Straits so they could take part in
the terrible holocaust," he said. "I and other correspondents were
unaware of this at the time…. There was a deal, you see."
The deal was that Indonesia under Suharto would offer up what Richard Nixon
had called "the richest hoard of natural resources, the greatest prize
in southeast Asia." In November 1967, the greatest prize was handed out
at a remarkable three-day conference sponsored by the Time-Life Corporation
in Geneva. Led by David Rockefeller, all the corporate giants were represented:
the major oil companies and banks, General Motors, Imperial Chemical Industries,
British American Tobacco, Siemens, U.S. Steel, and many others. Across the table
sat Suharto's U.S.-trained economists who agreed to the corporate takeover of
their country, sector by sector. The Freeport company got a mountain of copper
in West Papua. A U.S./ European consortium got the nickel. The giant Alcoa company
got the biggest slice of Indonesia's bauxite. America, Japanese, and French
companies got the tropical forests of Sumatra. When the plunder was complete,
President Lyndon Johnson sent his congratulations on "a magnificent story
of opportunity seen and promise awakened." Thirty years later, with the
genocide in East Timor also complete, the World Bank described the Suharto dictatorship
as a "model pupil."
Shortly before he died, I interviewed Alan Clark, who under Thatcher was Britain's
minister responsible for supplying Suharto with most of his weapons. I asked
him, "Did it bother you personally that you were causing such mayhem and
"No, not in the slightest," he replied. "It never entered my
"I ask the question because I read you are a vegetarian and are seriously
concerned with the way animals are killed."
"Doesn't that concern extend to humans?"