Background

MISPI was established in August 1998, just months after the fall of President Suharto in May 1998. Among women’s civil society organizations in Aceh, MISPI is considered to be one of the most established, as I will show later.

The establishment of MISPI came from a dream that Syarifah and her colleagues shared to build a better Aceh for its women. According to Syarifah, the original intention behind the creation of the organization was simple. In the 1990s, while Aceh was still in conflict, she and her colleagues imagined that in the future Aceh might have an organization that could serve as a resource organization to benefit Acehnese women. Based on their experiences during conflict, she believes that a resource organization could pave the way for the creation of an ‘all Acehnese women’s network’. She dreamed that, once created, the network would become a forum for Acehnese women to mobilize, promote their agenda and to advance their status. It could become a place for women of different backgrounds, women’s activists, academics and bureaucrats, all sharing an interest in improving the status of Acehnese women to work together. She explains that this idea derived from the fact that although there were already women’s organizations working in Aceh at that time they had not demonstrated the capacity to mobilize Acehnese women.

Syarifah and her colleagues, however, acknowledged the complexity of the problems facing Acehnese women. Women who are victims of conflict need both legal protection and economic support. Many Acehnese women have become widows and have had to take the role of sole breadwinner for their families.

Politics

According to Syarifah, its establishment cannot be separated from the political opportunities that arose in Aceh following the fall of Suharto in 1998.¹ Many Acehnese saw the end of Military Operation Status (DOM) and political reforms at the national level as chances to demand justice, and force the government to investigate gross human rights violations in their province.² Demands for justice for the Acehnese did not receive an immediate response from Jakarta, and this caused new resentments and disappointment among Acehnese. This disappointment later manifested in the creation of ethno-nationalist demands (Bertrand 2004, 175). The Free Aceh Movement (GAM) saw this as a political opportunity to generate more support for their cause of Acehnese independence. This created tension among the society, because not all Acehnese supported the idea of independence, including many students (former student activists, interview, 10 March 2008).

As the central government in Jakarta remained unable to control the military, abuses against Acehnese civilians continued. This situation finally led to a fresh radicalization of Acehnese students, which Aspinall (2009, 123) argues turned them into ‘committed nationalists’. In addition, Aspinall also saw novelty in these movements, ‘as in many ways, [they are] not similar to the earlier movement, GAM’. These student movements reframed their struggle as one striving for national independence through democratic mechanisms, which emphasized ‘human rights, an inclusionary national identity and relations with Indonesia’. These students did not believe in armed struggle but relied on discourses of Aceh’s unique Islamic heritage and the Jakarta administration’s betrayal of the Acehnese cause of independence. In February 1999, groups of students from across Aceh formed SIRA (Sentral Informasi Rakyat Aceh or the Aceh Referendum Information Centre), which later demanded ‘self-determination based on independence, freedom and justice’, to allow the Acehnese to choose either to be independent or to remain part of Indonesia (Reid 2003, 10).

Reid (2003, 10) indicates that there were, however, some Acehnese who were not keen to see a separate Aceh, independent of Indonesia. Reid, however, observed that as the public mood for independence was huge, those who opposed the idea of independence were reluctant to express their views openly. Likewise, Siegel (2000, 337) observes that Acehnese elders were, in fact, wanting Aceh become a ‘federation’, so that its rights were better guaranteed.

It is this political situation that inspired women like Syarifah and her colleagues to do something for Acehnese women. They considered it to be a crucial time for Acehnese women to take a role and express their views within broader civil movements, to represent women’s silent voices. In addition, Syarifah was aware that there were many Acehnese women who were forced to support one view over the other while, in fact, many women felt that both sides had perpetrated similar violence against women. Siegel (2000, 388–389), for example, observes that some Acehnese women fear GAM as they experienced being targeted by GAM because their physical appearance closely resembles the Javanese, which is the largest ethnic group in Indonesia and is strongly associated with the Indonesian military. In other words, women were exploited by both the Indonesian military and GAM. Syarifah explains that the situation at that time became intense as Acehnese divided into two factions: those who supported Aceh to remain part of Indonesia, and those who were in favour of independence (that is, they supported GAM). According to Syarifah, many women considered that supporting either side would have its own risks.

During my conversations with Syarifah it became clear that Syarifah holds the view that Aceh should remain part of Indonesia. One women activist from Balai Syura Inong Aceh (Aceh Women’s Forum) expressed similar views to Syarifah’s. She said, ‘If Aceh is ruled by GAM, the future for women is bleak’ (interview, Banda Aceh, 8 March 2007).⁴ However, the intensity of the political situation from 1998 to 2000 made it impossible for women like Syarifah to publicly express their views. For example, Syarifah describes how both GAM and the Indonesian armed forces often physically targeted her after the Humanitarian Pause was agreed in 2000.

Regarding this political situation, Dana Lubis, a former member of HMI, explained that the creation of a women’s organization with a strong nationalist and Islamic character had strategic importance, especially in the context of growing demands for a referendum and independence from Indonesia.⁶ He and his fellow HMI activists believed that, if not handled cautiously, the situation could lead to a serious civil war within Acehnese society that would, again, badly affect women. He acknowledged injustices and human rights violations perpetrated by the Indonesian military, but at the same time he was even more frightened of the idea of independence, with Aceh ruled by GAM. He argued that civil society in Aceh did not want civil war, and preferred Aceh to remain part of the Republic of Indonesia.

He and his colleagues were aware, however, of the challenges facing women who wanted to join a civil society organization. According to him, women at that time were still treated unequally, in particular as regards their public roles. He acknowledged that other women’s activists have protected other Acehnese women during severe military conflict, but he contended that the existing women’s organizations had failed to end the isolation of women from the peace process. He therefore supported his fellow women members of KOHATI in establishing MISPI.

Naming

Under these political circumstances, Syarifah and her colleagues believed that ‘naming’ their organization was another important challenge, in addition to outlining their organizational strategy, their platform and the direction they wanted to take.

MISPI’s members expected that their organization should occupy a ‘middle position’ in the political conflict at that time, despite their political view of the situation. This is because they believe that only by doing so could they be sure that they can work with both sides in order to advance Acehnese women’s interests. However, I argue that since MISPI was created by a group closely attached to national Islamic based organizations, it must be in the position to support the idea that Aceh remains under the Indonesian government, and become part of the broader Indonesian Muslim sisterhood. I argue that MISPI’s rhetoric of wanting to be in the middle of two warring parties is mainly part of its organizational strategy.

The choice to name the organization Mitra Sejati Perempuan Indonesia, which literally means The True Partner of Indonesian Women, clearly demonstrates this point. Syarifah said that it is true that she wanted to show the rest of Indonesia that many Acehnese women see Aceh remaining part of Indonesia in the future, and to show that not all Acehnese women are happy to be labelled as separatists. This, Syarifah argued, is because she and many of her fellow Acehnese women were aware that the rest of Indonesia doubted Aceh’s commitment to the Republic, and simply labelled them ‘rebellious’. By naming her organization ‘MISPI’, she hoped that Indonesian women would perceive them as ‘their true friends’ and not question Acehnese women’s ‘Indonesian-ness’ (keIndonesiaan).

Dana Lubis, a former leader of HMI,⁷ also argued that the name would bring strategic benefits to the new women’s NGO (interview, Banda Aceh, 10 March 2008), and he was among the first to support the name. He acknowledged the consequences that MISPI might bear for including the word ‘Indonesia’ in its name: GAM and other Acehnese who were critical of Jakarta might accuse MISPI of being an agent of the Indonesian government. Despite that possibility, he argued, it was also important to confirm that not all women in Aceh wanted to see Aceh separate from Indonesia. In its later development, as I shall show in the next section, MISPI continues to align itself more towards the government while, at the same time, maintaining its critical character as an NGO.