Sun sets on the Grand Old Lady
Athletes past and present, spectators old and young, gather for final fling at Kallang
By Marc Lim, Sports Correspondent
SHE gave Singapore the best years of her life. So it was only fitting that, when it came time to say goodbye to the Grand Old Lady of Kallang, a bash like no other drew the curtains on the 34-year-old National Stadium.
Singaporeans across three generations - 45,000 in all - joined VVIPs such as President SR Nathan, members of the Cabinet and Singapore athletes, past and present, in a tribute yesterday that had nostalgia and entertainment weaved into a sporting spectacle.

The arena had been home to numerous National Day Parades and hosted icons such as Michael Jackson and Billy Graham.

But it was always sports which defined Kallang. Which was why Singapore's greatest sporting warriors returned to their former stomping ground for one last hurrah before it makes way for the new Sports Hub at year's end.

Footballers like Quah Kim Song and Dollah Kassim were immortalised on the National Stadium pitch.

They gave Kallang some of its best years during the days of the Malaysia Cup. It was they who gave Singapore the Kallang Roar - that sonic boom that sent shivers down opponents' spines.

Yesterday, they blew the dust off their boots to grace the pitch once again as they took on their Malaysian counterparts.

They may no long resemble the greats of the 1970s, but the fans hardly cared. Their mere presence rolled back the years. And to many, that was all that mattered.

Likewise for sprinter C. Kunalan, a former Olympian and once Singapore's fastest man.

He showed he still had spring in his feet when he ran up the stadium's East gallery to light the cauldron one last time.

It was first lit when the Republic hosted the 1973 South-east Asian Peninsular Games, and last burnt bright at the 1993 South-east Asia Games.

Then there was Tan Howe Liang. Singapore's only Olympic medallist has called Kallang home for over a decade, working at the stadium's gymnasium.

How his heart must have swelled with pride - as it did when he won a silver in the 1960 Rome Olympics - when he held the Singapore flag high to lead a contingent of current and former athletes in a lap of honour.

So often the home of soccer, it was left to footballers V. Sundramoorthy, Lionel Lewis and Indra Sahdan Daud to walk the fans through some of the more memorable Kallang moments.

But it was only a night for reminiscing.

Although Khairul Amri was on the wrong side of a 0-3 scoreline against Australia, he had the crowd on their feet when he twisted and turned a world-class Australian defence in the 57th minute, before finding space to unleash a shot on goal.

Alas, the Lion's effort smacked against the post.

But, at just 22, Amri - whose wonder goal won Singapore the Asean Football Federation title in February - is one player Singapore football could build around to excite future generations.

So, too, the many young athletes who took to the field as rock music and fireworks turned Kallang into one huge party.

And, just as these young athletes look to the future, so must everyone else. Tears will be shed when the stadium takes her final bow at the end of the year.

But, with a new home, comes new memories - like the ones the National Stadium has provided all these years.

marclim@sph.com.sg

'Tibetans' must pick Dalai Lama - BBC

'Tibetans' must pick Dalai Lama - 27 Nov 2007

The exiled Tibetan spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, says his people should have a role in finding his successor.

Speaking in Amritsar, northern India, he told the BBC that Tibetans would also have to decide if the institution should continue at all after his death.

The Dalai Lama's successor is usually chosen by senior Buddhist officials.

Analysts say the 72-year-old is considering breaking this centuries-old tradition in order to reduce the influence of China in the process.

Traditionally, Buddhist elders congregate after the death of the current leader and identify a young child to succeed him, after being guided by dreams and signs.

The Dalai Lama warned that when he dies, China would try to promote its own candidate.

You cannot have harmony under the gun

Dalai Lama

But he stressed, in an interview attended by the BBC's Sanjoy Majumder, that ultimately it would be up to the people of Tibet to decide who they accepted, if anyone at all.

"The Tibetan nation is 2,000 years old. The Dalai Lama institution is relatively recent - only a few centuries old," he said.

"If I die, it will be a setback for the Tibetan people for some time. But then the struggle will continue.

"If the Tibetan people decide that the Dalai Lama institution is no longer relevant, then it will automatically cease to exist."

'Violation of tradition'

Beijing claims sovereignty over Tibet, which it has controlled since invading in 1950. However, many Tibetans remain loyal to the Dalai Lama, who fled in 1959.

And the spiritual leader reopened a war of words with Beijing by criticising the way it rules Tibet.

"Stability and genuine harmony - that is the Chinese government's top priority. But you cannot have harmony under the gun," he said.

Beijing responded by accusing the Dalai Lama of violating his own religious traditions.

"The reincarnation of the living Buddha is a unique way of succession of Tibetan Buddhism and follows relatively complete religious rituals and historical conventions," China's foreign ministry said in a statement.

Beijing has denounced the Dalai Lama's many foreign trips, including recent visits to the US, Germany and Japan.

It says he should stay out of politics and restrict himself to a religious role.

Buddhists believe the current Dalai Lama is the reincarnation of his predecessors.

---
Squeezed freedoms in Buddhist Tibet
In the third of a series of pieces from Tibet, the BBC's Michael Bristow looks at the amount of freedom Tibetan Buddhists are given to practise their religion.
Every day, hundreds of Buddhist pilgrims prostrate themselves in front of the Jokhang Temple, the spiritual heart of the Tibetan capital Lhasa.

Their devotion is sometimes literally etched on their faces: many carry marks on their foreheads from constantly lying face down on the floor.

China says more than one million pilgrims visit Lhasa each year - evidence, it says, that the Chinese authorities are protecting religious freedom in Tibet.

But the real picture is more complex. Although people can worship openly, Beijing maintains ultimate control over Tibetan Buddhism.

An example of this control came earlier this month when China's State Administration for Religious Affairs issued new guidelines about who can and cannot be declared a "living Buddha".

The Dalai Lama is in here, but we cannot speak about him

A Tibetan man, pointing to his heart

From 1 September, all reincarnated living Buddhas - eminent monks - will first have to be approved by the government.

The guidelines appear directed at the selection of the next Dalai Lama, Tibetan Buddhism's spiritual head.

The current Dalai Lama, the 14th, has lived in exile in India since fleeing his homeland in 1959 along with thousands of other Tibetans after a failed uprising against Communist rule. Tenzin Gyatso is now 72.

New rules

China's new ruling on reincarnation also seems designed to prevent exiled Tibetans who have fled the region from helping to select their spiritual leader.

Article 2 makes it clear Beijing will not tolerate "interference" from any person or organisation outside the country.


The Chinese-approved Panchen Lama lives mostly in Beijing

If there are succession problems when the Dalai Lama dies, it will not be the first time there have been difficulties over the selection of a reincarnated monk.

When the 10th Panchen Lama - second in seniority only to the Dalai Lama - died in 1989, the search began for his successor.

In 1995, the Dalai Lama announced that six-year-old Gedhun Choekyi Nyima had been selected. Three days later he disappeared with his parents.

Nyima Tsering, vice-chairman of the Tibet Autonomous Region, told the BBC that this Panchen Lama, now 18, is still in Tibet, living a quiet life.

"He wants to live in peace and does not want his life disturbed," said the official, although China does not allow anyone to see him.

Instead, Beijing approved another Panchen Lama. He lives mostly in Beijing, travelling to Tibet every year or so.

Unspoken subject

China seeks to control the selection of senior religious leaders in Tibet because it fears their political power.

Although Beijing says Tibet has been part of China since the mid-13th century, eight centuries on there are still many who dispute that claim.


[The Dalai Lama] is not only a religious figure. He is also a political figure agitating for Tibetan independence

Nyima Tsering, Vice-Chair of Tibet Autonomous Region

Beijing believes senior monks provide a focal point for those advocating Tibetan independence.

The Dalai Lama "is not only a religious figure. He is also a political figure agitating for Tibetan independence," said Nyima Tsering.

Religious and political issues remain mostly under the surface in Tibet. Senior monks are wary when talking about sensitive issues.

When asked about the Dalai Lama, Ping La, head of Shigatse's Tashilunpo Monastery, just shrugged and said: "He's just the Dalai Lama".

It is like saying the Pope is just another Catholic.

But scratch the surface and it is not hard to find political tension.

"The Dalai Lama is in here," one Tibetan in Shigatse told the BBC as he pointed to his heart. "But we cannot speak about him."

There have also been reports this month that the Chinese authorities are cracking down on pro-Dalai Lama sentiment in Tibet by sacking ethnic Tibetan officials.

China has worked hard to promote the view that it governs Tibet with a light touch.

Since 1951, when it reasserted its control of Tibet through what it called "peaceful liberation", Beijing says it has spent more than 1 billion yuan ($132m, £66m) restoring cultural sites.

People, it says, are free to worship and express their views.

"We do not have any political prisoners," said Nyima Tsering.

But it seems odd that in the Tashilunpo Monastery there are pictures of a smiling Chinese President Hu Jintao, but none of the Dalai Lama.

There might be political and religious freedom in Tibet, but it is a freedom severely curtailed by Beijing
------------
Railway brings new era for Tibet
When a railway line linking Tibet to China opened last year, there were fears it could lead to the erosion of Tibet's unique culture and way of life. In the first of a series from the region, the BBC's Michael Bristow reports on the effects of the line one year on.

Business is benefiting from the new rail connection

Lhasa's railway cargo depot lies at the end of a partly-paved road, full of potholes, around 20km (12.5 miles) outside the Tibetan capital.

Scurrying to and fro along its platforms, uniformed workers unload everything from construction materials to incense.

Station master Chen Zhanying proudly churns out impressive statistics, detailing exports, imports, costs and benefits.

One year after the opening of the railway connecting Tibet with the rest of China, officials are keen to stress its achievements.

Improving wages

Those benefits are not hard to find. Renchin, a cleaner, is just one person whose life has improved with the railway's arrival.

The 28-year-old Tibetan works 12 hours a day, six days a week mopping the floor at the railway's passenger terminal on the outskirts of Lhasa.

Before the railway opened last July, she worked at a karaoke bar earning far less than the 900 yuan ($119, £59) she now takes home each month.

"At my previous job, the wages were bad and the work was hard," she said as she dragged her mop along the floor.

She added: "It's a lot better working here."


The development has helped people get better paid jobs

Businesses, as well as individuals, have also benefited.

Along the road leading to the cargo station, a giant gateway tells visitors they have arrived at Lhasa's economic development zone.

At the moment there is not much to see. Beyond the impressive entrance, a wide boulevard leads to vacant parcels of land.

But the zone's director, Huang Yutian, is optimistic. He said 112 businesses from as far away as Beijing and Guangzhou had already signed up to use the park.

These will be involved in industries such as mining, and processing Tibetan wool and dairy products.

Tax revenue from the development zone is expected to double this year to 80m yuan ($10.6m, £5.2m), Mr Huang said.

Predictably, tourism has also been given a boost by the railway's arrival to a region with wonderful natural scenery, and colourful temples and monasteries.

Previously, Lhasa could be reached only by plane or after a long, arduous road journey.

At central Lhasa's Jokhang Temple, one of Tibetan Buddhism's most revered sites, there are now at least twice as many visitors as before.

There are so many tourists at the 1,300-year-old temple - pilgrim numbers are about the same - site officials are considering setting limits.


There are fears that Tibetans are missing out on new jobs

"We need to manage visitors in an orderly fashion," said senior monk Chodak.

He added: "We are currently trying to figure out the best way to do that."

In short, local officials believe the railway is helping to transform Tibet's economy, improving the lives of ordinary people in the process.

Hao Peng, vice-chairman of the Tibet Autonomous Region, said the area used to depend on central government funding to drive the economy.

But this year private investment, consumption, and imports and exports are all providing new impetus, he explained.

Economic growth was up by 14.7% in the first half of this year in the Himalayan region.

Skills gap

But if the railway has brought benefits, critics say they have not been evenly distributed.

All the good jobs, they claim, are being taken by China's dominant Han people who move to Tibet to find work.

That seems to be at least partly the case at the Hada Group, a Tibetan-run firm in Lhasa making traditional furniture and ironware.

Group Chairman Qun Pei said more than 90% of the company's 500 workers are ethnic Tibetans.

But he later admitted the firm had taken on 1,200 temporary workers from other parts of the country this year because it could not find enough Tibetans with the right skills.

Government officials admit there is a skills gap and say money has been put aside to train unqualified Tibetans.

But even if they are trained, will economic development provide enough jobs in what is still a very remote region?

As the development zone's Mr Huang (unnecessarily) pointed out, Tibet is hardly the centre of the economic universe.

This is particularly true for people living outside the main urban areas.

The year-old railway is certainly changing Tibet. It is bringing easier access to fresh vegetables, but also more tourists and migrants.

For some these changes are welcome and will provide opportunities. Others view them in a less benign light.

--------------

China's relocation of rural Tibetans
In the second of a series of pieces from Tibet, the BBC's Michael Bristow looks at the effects of relocating huge numbers of rural people to urban areas.

Tibetans have been moved from houses like this...
All along the main road from Lhasa to Tibet's second city, Shigatse, new homes are being erected beneath the towering peaks.

The work is part of a huge relocation project that saw 290,000 rural people - 10% of Tibet's population - moved into new homes last year alone.

China, which governs Tibet, is proud of this achievement. It says it is bringing modern services to once-isolated communities, and boasts that the annual per capita income for rural Tibetans increased by 17.2% last year to 2,435 yuan ($322, £158).

"If these people still lived in remote areas it would be hard to develop the economy and raise incomes," says local party secretary Gardor.

But critics argue that the relocation is destroying traditional Tibetan lifestyles, and say the authorities did not give much regard to the wishes of some local people.

Local optimism


... to these ones like this
An hour's drive outside Lhasa is the village of Caibalang.

Some people already lived here, along the main road, but others have recently been re-housed from more remote areas.

It is a place the Chinese government is keen to show off to visiting journalists.

On one side of the road stand spacious new two-storey homes, built with the help of government grants and preferential bank loans.

On the other side of the street, surrounded by muddy puddles, are a clutch of one-storey stone hovels, where animals and people share living space.

When I looked inside one of these old homes, it was dark and dirty. The only light came from a TV being watched by two children sat on the edge of a bed. A goat was tethered to a piece of furniture on the opposite side of the room.

The message is clear: China is transforming the lives, and living conditions, for at least these poor villagers.

The villagers themselves say they support the project.

Living in one of the newly built houses is Drolkar, a 31-year-old Tibetan woman who shares her house with her husband and son.

[The Chinese] authorities didn't bother to find out what Tibetans want, and have been heavy handed with those who have complained

Brad Adams
Human Rights Watch

Her new home cost 140,000 yuan ($18,500, £9,100) to build and furnish, which her family paid for mostly out of their own savings.

They also have a 30,000 yuan bank loan, being paid off over three years, and they received a grant of about 10,000 yuan from the government.

The family's new home comes with better farmland - and therefore the chance to make more money. They have also opened a roadside shop.

"I don't think there is a country in the world that has this kind of favourable relocation policy," says county chief Sun Baoxiang from behind a pair of large sunglasses.

He says the village's 500-odd families all welcome the project. "There have been no cases of imposed relocation," he explains.

Lifestyle change

If the choice is between the two houses being shown to journalists, it is not hard to believe officials when they say they have not had to force anyone to move.

But relocating farmers who plant crops and keep a few domestic animals is easier than moving Tibet's herders.


Drolkar and her family have now opened a roadside shop

Herders move around in search of fresh pastures for their yaks and cows. It is more difficult to get them to live in permanent homes.

Critics say the relocation policy is destroying their traditional way of life.

In June, US-based Human Rights Watch urged China to stop moving herders until the project's effects have been fully assessed.

"Some Chinese authorities claim that their forced urbanisation of Tibetan herders is an enlightened form of modernisation," says Brad Adams, the organisation's Asia director.

"But those same authorities didn't bother to find out what Tibetans want, and have been heavy handed with those who have complained."

Lacking basic skills, many resettled people have difficulty finding anything other than temporary or menial work, Human Rights Watch says.

And for those that do want to move, there is also the cost of the homes.

One villager in Caibalang, in Qushui County, complained he would have to take a job in Lhasa to pay for his new house.

Despite the complaints, the sheer scale of the building work taking place along the Lhasa-Shigatse road suggests China is not going to halt the project.

Chinese-style development is taking place whether Tibetans like it or not.
----------

Regions and territories: Tibet

Tibet, the remote and mainly-Buddhist territory known as the "roof of the world", is governed as an autonomous region of China.
Beijing claims a centuries-old sovereignty over the Himalayan region. But the allegiances of many Tibetans lie with the exiled spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, seen by his followers as a living god, but by China as a separatist threat.

OVERVIEW



OVERVIEW | FACTS | LEADERS | MEDIA


Chinese troops invaded in 1950, sealing a tumultuous history in which Tibet had been conquered by its powerful Chinese and Mongolian neighbours and had latterly functioned as an independent entity.

Some areas of the "old Tibet" were incorporated into neighbouring Chinese provinces.

In 1959, after a failed anti-Chinese uprising, the 14th Dalai Lama fled Tibet and set up a government in exile in India. Most of Tibet's monasteries were destroyed in the 1960s and 1970s during China's Cultural Revolution. Thousands of Tibetans are believed to have been killed during periods of repression and martial law.


Potala palace: Former seat of government and Lhasa landmark

Under international pressure, China eased its grip on Tibet in the 1980s, introducing "Open Door" reforms and boosting investment.

Beijing says Tibet has developed considerably under its rule. But rights groups say China continues to violate human rights, accusing Beijing of political and religious repression. Beijing denies any abuses.

Tourism and the ongoing modernisation drive stand in contrast to Tibet's former isolation. But Beijing's critics say Tibetans have little say in building their future.

China says a new railway link between Lhasa and the western Chinese province of Qinghai will boost economic expansion. The link is likely to increase the influx of Chinese migrants.

Buddhism reached Tibet in the seventh century. The Dalai Lama, or Ocean of Wisdom, is the leading spiritual figure; the Panchen Lama is the second most important figure. Both are seen as the reincarnations of their predecessors.

The selection of a Dalai Lama and a Panchen Lama follows a strict process, conducted by the existing Dalai Lama. But the Dalai Lama and Beijing are at odds over the 11th incarnation of the Panchen Lama, having identified different youngsters for the role. The Dalai Lama's choice, Gedhun Choekyi Nyima, has not been seen since his detention by the Chinese authorities in 1995.


Tibet's spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, leads a government in exile

There have been intermittent and indirect contacts between China and the Dalai Lama. The exiled spiritual leader advocates a non-violent, negotiated solution to the Tibet problem and accepts the notion of real autonomy for Tibet under Chinese sovereignty. China has questioned his claims that he does not seek independence.

Tibet's economy depends largely on agriculture. Forests and grasslands occupy large parts of the country. The territory is rich in minerals, but poor transport links have limited their exploitation. Tourism is an important revenue earner.

FACTS



OVERVIEW | FACTS | LEADERS | MEDIA



Population: 2.62 million (2000 Chinese census)
Capital: Lhasa
Area: 1.2 million sq km (471,700 sq miles)
Major languages: Tibetan, Chinese
Major religion: Buddhism
Main exports: Handicrafts, livestock
LEADERS



OVERVIEW | FACTS | LEADERS | MEDIA


The Chinese Communist Party is the highest political and administrative authority in Tibet, operating through the region's party secretary and the government of the Tibet Autonomous Region.

Many Tibetans regard the exiled 14th Dalai Lama as their spiritual leader. Born in 1935, he was identified as the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama at the age of two and was enthroned in 1940.

A campaigner for Tibetan autonomy on the world stage, the Dalai Lama leads a government-in-exile based in Dharamsala, in northern India. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989.

MEDIA



OVERVIEW | FACTS | LEADERS | MEDIA


Tibet's media are tightly controlled by the Chinese leadership. Official radio and TV stations have extended their reach across much of the mainly-rural region.

Overseas-based radio stations target Tibetan listeners in local languages, including the Voice of Tibet, operated by Norwegian non-governmental organisations, and the US government-backed Radio Free Asia. The shortwave broadcasts are subject to jamming.

The press

Xizang Ribao (Tibet Daily) - Communist Party newspaper
Television

Tibet TV Station - state-run
Radio

Tibet People's Broadcasting Station - state-run

Killing Fields Justice

Nov 22, 2007
Justice over killing fields
A UNITED Nations-supported tribunal has at last begun to bring former Khmer Rouge leaders to book - nearly 30 years after the killing fields of Cambodia took more than a million lives. Justice delayed may not be quite justice totally denied after all. Those who suffered and the relatives of those who perished have waited long enough. A few of the perpetrators, including the monstrous Pol Pot and 'the Butcher' Ta Mok, died without having to face their accusers. Khieu Samphan, Democratic Kampuchea's president during the genocide and mass starvation, is an infirm 76-year-old, roused this week from a hospital bed to face charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity. Among four others in custody and facing similar charges is Kaing Guek Eav, alias Duch. His meekness in his court appearance this week belied the sadism with which he is accused of having 16,000 people tortured and executed while in charge of the Tuol Sleng charnel house.
If found guilty in trials next year, they deserve the full weight of justice. Even before the process has really begun, they have tried pleading ignorance, shifting blame to now dead comrades, or justifying the unjustifiable. Obviously, the intervening decades between crime and apprehension have brought them no closer to remorse. Neither have repeated judicial postponements offered their victims any sense of closure. Lower-ranking accomplices also have to be brought to account. Even if the tribunal has no mandate to try them, the precedent it sets will show Cambodian courts the way. Contrary to some speculation, the delays have added to the need for collective catharsis, not diminished it. The trials may yet set off a long-repressed release. Without facing up to the truth of those dark days, Cambodians will find genuine national reconciliation difficult.

It is also imperative not only that justice be done, but that it be seen to be done. The proceedings will benefit from live media coverage as well as international standards of openness and jurisprudence, owing to the UN involvement. It is equally important that those who are committing such crimes now in wars declared and undeclared, or will in the future, need to be aware of the certainty of justice. It may be coincidental that the tribunal began work in earnest in a week that Asean, which has Cambodia as a member, signed a Charter prescribing rule of law and human rights among principles of domestic conduct of states. This is fortuitous, considering what could happen in Myanmar if the governance and human rights crisis there should get any worse.

Indonesian Freedom Fighters

Nov 20, 2007
INDONESIA'S THIRD GENERATION
Freedom fighters rue a sad new world
By John McBeth, Senior Writer

FIVE years ago, I interviewed four sprightly octogenarians who called themselves the Third Generation. Not quite founding fathers, but prominent figures who had played vital roles in the birth of the Indonesian republic and had remained true to their values.
At a time when Indonesian thinkers were engaged in a great deal of worried introspection in the wake of the 1997-1998 economic meltdown, these four seemed to be some of the few judges genuinely qualified to answer a much-debated question: Where had Indonesia gone wrong?

To a man, they were courteous and engaging - all of them throwbacks to another, much different era free of corruption and self-interest and brimming with dreams for the future of an infant nation:


Mr Soedarpo Sastrosatomo, then 81, began his working life as a diplomat and then went on to found Samudera Lines, Indonesia's largest shipping company, now headquartered in Singapore.

Mr Roeslan Abdulgani, 87 at the time, a former foreign minister under president Sukarno who was still serving as a general adviser to the government.

Mr Julius Tahija, 85 during our meeting, a genuine World War II hero, a minister in the short-lived East Indonesia government and a retired businessman.

Professor Selo Soemardjan, then 87, a trained sociologist who served for 40 years as private secretary to the late Sultan Hamengkubuwono XI of Jogjakarta.
Sadly Mr Sastrosatomo - the one I knew the best - died recently of complications from dengue fever. In the house where thousands of people filed past his shrouded body to pay their respects, we shed silent tears for a fine man who represented all that is good about the Indonesian people - if not all of its leaders.

But his death also allowed me to reflect again on the surprisingly similar verdicts reached by these grand old men in those separate and fascinating interviews, which took me on a journey through modern Indonesian history.

Interestingly, they did not blame the Indonesian dilemma on former president Suharto or on founding president Sukarno. Rather, they traced its roots back to the early days of the republic, to the overbearing influence of Javanese culture - and to collective mistakes ranging from fostering bureaucratic nepotism to breeding a generation of rent-seekers.

Mr Sastrosatomo, a member of the Indonesian team to the United Nations from 1948 to 1950, pointed to how the early government was patterned after the Dutch colonial administration, more than 100 of whose laws still remain in the country's statute books.

'We weren't ready for independence,' he said. 'We didn't have the slightest clue what to do. It was all political, there was never any real talk about what the country would look like as an independent state.'

A lot of the blame fell on the Dutch, who did nothing to prepare the country for independence. 'The Dutch trained good mechanics and technical people, but they never trained managers or leaders - it was a deliberate policy,' Mr Tahija told me.

'No one was ready. We started fighting first and thinking later. The whole thing was 'let's get them out first'...We had never thought as one entity, and that was difficult to overcome.'

Hard of hearing but sharp as a tack, Mr Abdulgani remembered those days well.

'We were a people who wanted to be masters in our own house, not servants as we were before. Frankly, we didn't understand international relations - we knew only the Dutch, the Japanese and the British,' said the old freedom fighter, whose right hand was turned into a claw by machine-gun fire.

'We had heard our older leaders talking about Asia, so our view was we should be on the same level as India and the Philippines. But overall, you had to understand our urge for freedom.'

But once independence was achieved, something seemed to change. Mr Sastrosatomo recalled the high ethics that characterised the 1945-1950 independence struggle against the Dutch as they tried to regain what had slipped from their grasp during Japan's World War II occupation.

'Money,' the one-time diplomat insisted, 'was never stolen.' Then in the early 1950s, the new government began issuing commercial licences to private businessmen - for a price. 'What's happening now,' he sighed deeply, 'is simply an outgrowth of what happened then.'

Interestingly, it is Java and its culture that the four wise men saw as the biggest impediment to Indonesia's stumbling progress towards modern statehood. It is not a new thought, but it has taken on more resonance with memories of military abuses and Jakarta's grudging decision to decentralise.

In those days, vice-president Mohommad Hatta wanted a federation while Mr Sukarno held out for a republic. Mr Tahija, an Ambonese born in Java, thought Mr Hatta was on the right track.

'Today, if you know someone is Javanese,' he said, 'an electric shock goes through you.'

Has it all been that bad? Mr Soemardjan, a small ethnic Javanese with a thatch of white hair, seemed to think so, noting that all Indonesia's presidents have been from Java, with the exception of Sulawesi-born B.J. Habibie.

'Because the president is recognised by the Javanese as a king, he exercises his cultural influence over everyone else,' he said. 'This has created resentment in the process of national development. You have a dichotomy between Javanese and non-Javanese areas which is very strong...They (the provinces) feel colonised by the government of Java.'

Mr Sastrosatomo, an ethnic Javanese born in Sumatra, believed that applying an 'old-fashioned philosophy' to a modern society would not work. In 1952, when he turned his back on diplomacy to become a private businessman, he recalled it was culturally rude to talk about business.

'Even today, in places like Solo (Java's ancient royal capital), traders are not really considered fit for society,' he pointed out. 'But that doesn't mean people are not interested in the money that comes with business.'

In the end, finding a position in the bureaucracy became the way to reap the spoils of business without getting soiled hands. 'If you get a position, you don't have to work,' he complained.

'The roots of the problem lie in the Javanese culture. Once people had a position, they never wanted to give it up.'

Mr Tahija remembered when it was once an honour to be in the civil service. But not long after independence, under pressure from the elite families, nepotism took over and the number of government employees multiplied. Lessons the snappily dressed Mr Tahija had always held dear - don't talk too much, create a reliable follow-up system and practise what you preach - disappeared.

'There has been a serious erosion of values,' he said. 'What is right, what is wrong is all mixed up. It is difficult these days for young people to find a good example, a good role model. There is also huge scepticism about whether Indonesians are able to do business in a straightforward way.'

Mr Soemardjan blamed a lack of communications on the yawning gap between the central government and the outlying islands. 'They think they're the national government,' he scoffed, 'but out there on the islands, they want to know, 'What exactly is the national government?'.

'Politically speaking, you have a Constitution and a president, but that is something only for the big cities. There are more than 500 ethnic groups, each with its own culture, family life, language and belief systems - it's the duty of the central government to keep them together as one nation.'

So what of the future? 'You can't do anything properly unless you have security and a legal system,' said Mr Sastrosatomo, who moved Samudera's headquarters to Singapore to get away from Mr Suharto and his policies.

But still, he never despaired. He went to his grave last month as hopeful as ever for the future of the country he loved.

thane.cawdor@gmail.com

India's influence on SEA

INDIA'S INFLUENCE ON SOUTH-EAST ASIA
Lasting impressions of dynasty
By Sunanda K. Datta-Ray, For The Straits Times
HISTORY is repeating itself in South-east Asia, says Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew,* speaking of past, present and future Sino-Indian interaction, but it 'will not be reproduced in exactly the same form' because 'nothing ever is reproduced exactly the same'.
The form it takes will depend to a large extent on the lessons South-east Asia is able to draw from its past. The latter is an issue that will be examined at a conference to be held in Singapore from tomorrow to Friday.**

The region's Indic underpinning is its best-kept secret. In fact, Asean, the 10-nation grouping, can be called the 'Indianised states of South-east Asia' - in the words of French orientalist George Coedes - in modern garb.

Asean's members enshrine the traditions of Temasek, Champa, Funan, Kataaha, Mataram and all the other lost kingdoms of the Srivijaya and Majapahit empires that ancient Indians knew collectively as Suvarnabhumi, Land of Gold.

'When we refer to 1,000-year-old ties which unite us with India, it is not at all a hyperbole,' former king Norodom Sihanouk of Cambodia said when dedicating a boulevard in Phnom Penh to India's first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru.

'In fact, it was about 2,000 years ago that the first navigators, Indian merchants and Brahmins, brought to our ancestors their gods, their techniques, their organisation. Briefly, India was for us what Greece was to the Latin Occident,' he said.

Language, religion, art, architecture, governance, institutions, temples, folk culture and - above all - a buoyant tradition of maritime trade and merchant guilds also marked the mission goals and influence that more than 50 eminent scholars from a dozen Asian and European countries will discuss at this week's conference. The event is jointly organised by the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, the National Library Board, the Institute of South Asian Studies and the Asian Research Institute.

Singapore's first foreign minister, the late Mr S. Rajaratnam, saw Chinese-majority Singapore's retention of its Sanskrit name as an affirmation of British historian A.L. Basham's thesis 'that the whole of South-east Asia received most of its culture from India'.

And an Indian word - bumiputera - encapsulates Malaysia's most cherished political concept.

Making images of the elephant- headed Hindu god Ganesa is a cottage industry in Muslim Java, while Thailand's Buddhist kings claim spiritual descent from India's legendary god-king Rama.

For Minister Mentor Lee, Asean's Indic past resonates in the fun and frolic of Indonesian politics as opposed to the religious austerity of Malaysian election campaigns. Indonesians might also have succumbed to the passions that sweep Kelantan and Terengganu without 'that underpinning of Buddhism and Hinduism that gives them, particularly the Javanese, a certain balance'. He blames Jemaah Islamiah leaders of Arab descent for corrupting some Javanese.

The 'Indian influence came from the west, in Burma, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia Malaysia, Indonesia', he said. 'The Chinese influence came through Vietnam and the city ports, the coastal ports of South-east Asia.' The porcelain cargo of sunken ships from before Admiral Cheng Ho's time bears this out.

But the past was not only a time of peace and plenty. About 10 conference papers will focus on the naval might of India's Chola kings, who interacted extensively with South-east Asia in an age that has left behind some vexed questions with an intriguingly contemporary ring.

Did Rajendra Chola raid Sumatra and Malaya because the Srivijayans obstructed his shipping? Did Mataram attack Srivijaya over the spice trade? Why did Majapahit overthrow Srivijaya? Undoubtedly, commerce was a major cause for the rise and fall of empires for, as the Portuguese Tome Pires who visited Malacca in the 1500s wrote: 'Whoever is lord of Malacca has his hand on the throat of Venice.'

Politically, did the Cholas accept Sung suzerainty or was this another Celestial Empire pretension? The suggestion that while South-east Asia saw India as the land of Hinduism and Buddhism and a major trading centre, it also viewed China as exerting political and economic power sounds familiar.

'I see now, with the revival of these two great powers, the same thrust coming in from the East and the West,' said Minister Mentor Lee. Much will depend on how Asean composes its internal differences to manage great-power mingling.

Divisiveness finally overwhelmed its historical predecessor. Suvarnabhumi had too many kings, too little unity in diversity.

This week's conference will send a constructive message beyond the groves of academe if it helps to emphasise the crucial importance of integration as Asean's only means of meaningful survival.

The writer is visiting senior research fellow at the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.

Gorbachev coup conspirator dies

25 Nov 2007 - BBC


Gorbachev coup conspirator dies

Former KGB chief Vladimir Kryuchkov, one of the orchestrators of the failed coup against Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev in 1991, has died aged 83.
The Federal Security Service, the FSB, said Mr Kryuchkov had died in a Moscow hospital of an unspecified illness.



Mr Kryuchkov signed the takeover decree after a group of hardline communists ousted Mr Gorbachev to try to halt his reform plans.

The coup lasted three days. The men were jailed, and then pardoned in 1994.

Mr Gorbachev appointed Mr Kryuchkov as head of the KGB in 1988.

In recent years, Mr Kryuchkov raised his public profile, publishing his memoirs and giving numerous interviews in which he accused the West of plotting against Russia.

He was frequently invited to Kremlin events by Russian President Vladimir Putin, himself a former KGB official.

Key figures of Khmer Rouge

(Pic on far left - Pol Pot)
(Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea live next door to each other)


Monday, 19 November 2007, 08:58 GMT



Key figures in the Khmer Rouge

Pol Pot's regime is thought to have led to the deaths of 1.7m people
A United Nations-backed genocide tribunal has been set up in Cambodia, to seek justice for the Khmer Rouge's hundreds of thousands of victims.

It could see surviving leaders of the brutal regime brought to the dock, but the man most wanted for crimes against humanity in Cambodia will never be brought to justice.

Pol Pot, the founder and leader of the Khmer Rouge, died in a camp along the border with Thailand in 1998.

Other key figures have also died. Ta Mok - the regime's military commander and one of Pol Pot's most ruthless henchmen - died in July 2006.

As time goes on, some people are beginning to question whether it is too late to achieve a proper sense of justice for the Cambodian people.

But there are several surviving figures who have been implicated in the genocide that took place during the Khmer Rouge's four-year regime.

Judges at the tribunal started questioning their first suspect - Kang Kek Ieu, more commonly known as Duch - on 31 July, to decide whether he should stand trial.

Duch was the boss of Phnom Penh's notorious Tuol Sleng prison, where thousands of people were killed during the Khmer Rouge regime.

Now aged 65, he is the youngest surviving member of the movement's leadership.

Duch, who has since become a born-again Christian, has been in custody since 1999. He is said to be eager for his chance to go to trial to tell his version of events.

Defectors

Nuon Chea, known as 'Brother Number Two" as he was second in command to Pol Pot, was arrested on 19 September and charged with war crimes and crimes against humanity.

He defected from the Khmer Rouge in 1998 and was granted a pardon by Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen.

In December 2002 he was called to testify on behalf of the former Khmer Rouge general Sam Bith, who was sentenced to life in prison for ordering the kidnap and murder of three Western backpackers in 1994.

So far he has denied being involved in the atrocities that went on during the Khmer Rouge regime, but critics suggest that at the very least he was fully informed of what was happening.

Ieng Sary, also known as "Brother Number Three", was the third person to be arrested by the tribunal on 12 November.

The Khmer Rouge's minister of foreign affairs, Ieng Sary was also Pol Pot's brother-in-law. His wife, Ieng Thirith, was the regime's social affairs minister. She was also taken to appear before the tribunal.

Ieng Sary became the first senior leader to defect in 1996 - and as a result was granted a royal pardon.

The United Nations says such a pardon cannot protect someone from prosecution, but Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen has previously warned that going after Ieng Sary could re-ignite civil unrest in Cambodia.

The former minister is said to be ill with a heart condition, and has been travelling to Bangkok regularly for treatment.

His arrest was followed by that of Khieu Samphan, the Khmer Rouge's official head of state, on 19 November.

He was the public face of the Khmer Rouge, who defected at the same time as Nuon Chea.

Until his arrest, the 73-year-old was said to spend most of his time at his home in Pailin, once the movement's jungle headquarters, reading, listening to music or gardening