Christopher Smith and the Secret Military Veto for Political Prisoners

By Harlan Pryce ·

A confidential telegram from 1998 shows a US congressman demanding the release of East Timorese rebel Xanana Gusmao while the Indonesian government admits it has no power over its own army.

Xanana Gusmao sat in a cell at Cipinang prison, a political prisoner whose freedom depended not on the law, but on the whims of an army. For the East Timorese, this meant that no matter who signed the release papers, the gun still held the veto.

The specifics of this exchange survive only in a curated archival summary of the original cable. The record captures a moment in May 1998 when the facade of Indonesian civilian rule was stripped away in a private meeting between an American lawmaker and a Justice Minister. It is a study in the distance between a government's stated intent and its actual power.

Cipinang's Gates

Congressman Christopher Smith, who has represented New Jersey's 4th district since 1981 after switching from the Democratic to the Republican Party in 1978, began his diplomatic push not in a boardroom, but in the corridors of Cipinang prison. Cipinang is a top-security penitentiary in East Jakarta where the state holds those it deems the greatest threat to its stability. Smith did not go there to observe; he went to witness the conditions of those the government had silenced.

After leaving the prison, Smith sought a meeting with Minister Muladi. The public record establishes Muladi as an academic and judge who served as the Rector of the Diponegoro University before becoming the Minister of Justice. On paper, Muladi was the ultimate legal authority on the incarceration of prisoners. In reality, the record shows that when Smith pressed him on the release of prisoners, Muladi’s legal authority was an illusion (Telegram 002977).

Smith urged the release of prisoners based on principles rather than categories (Telegram 002977). This is the first critical line of the story. "Categories" were the tool of the bureaucracy—a way to sort prisoners into manageable groups, to release the low-level offenders while keeping the symbols of resistance locked away. Smith's insistence on "principles" was an attempt to bypass the Indonesian government's filing system and force a conversation about fundamental human rights. He specifically demanded the release of Xanana Gusmao, the East Timorese rebel who would eventually become the first president and later the prime minister of an independent Timor-Leste.

Document imagery from nsarchive.gwu.edu From the files: nsarchive.gwu.edu

A Veto in Jakarta

When the conversation turned to the specifics of who could be freed, the mask slipped. Muladi responded that the government was actively considering release for many prisoners, but he admitted the decision was not his to make (Telegram 002977). This is the central irony of the encounter: the Minister of Justice, the man responsible for the nation's legal system, confessed he lacked the authority to decide who should be released from a government prison.

Muladi added a clarifying condition: "if the military objected to the release of a prisoner the release could not take place" (Telegram 002977).

The Indonesian military, the armed force that exercised absolute control over internal security and the suppression of East Timorese independence, did not just advise the government—it held a total veto over the Ministry of Justice. This connection transforms the meeting from a diplomatic negotiation into a performance. Smith was arguing with a man who had already surrendered his agency to the generals.

Smith pushed further, raising concerns about torture, military repression, and the necessity of military accountability (Telegram 002977). He was attempting to treat the Indonesian government as a sovereign entity capable of disciplining its own security forces. The record, however, indicates that Muladi could only offer a dialogue on "categorizations and obstacles" (Telegram 002977). He was not negotiating the release of prisoners; he was explaining the mechanics of his own impotence.

Muladi's Wall

The pattern suggests that the visit to Cipinang and the subsequent meeting with Muladi were exercises in human rights optics rather than high-level negotiations for prisoner release. By visiting the prison first, Smith brought the physical reality of incarceration into the meeting, but Muladi used the military veto as a wall. The sequence—prison visit followed by a meeting with a minister who admits he is powerless—suggests a carefully managed diplomatic loop. The US congressman is allowed to see the suffering and express his outrage, and the Minister is allowed to express his sympathy, but the actual power remains undisturbed in the barracks.

If this file is shaped the way it looks, the Indonesian government was functioning as a diplomatic shield for a military regime that retained absolute sovereignty. Muladi's role was not to administer justice, but to manage the American perception of justice. By acknowledging the "consideration" of release, he signaled cooperation; by invoking the military veto, he ensured that no actual change would occur without the generals' consent. The civilian administration was not the driver of policy; it was the shock absorber for military decisions.

Furthermore, the reporting treats the military as a monolithic entity. The record refers to "the military" as a single voice of objection (Telegram 002977). The desk's reading is that this phrasing masks the internal fractures and power struggles that defined the 1998 transition. By presenting the military as a unified wall, the record obscures who specifically was blocking Gusmao's release and which faction within the armed forces was using him as a bargaining chip.

The Price of Moral Pressure

The record is most telling in what it omits. There is no mention of strategic leverage, conditional aid, or sanctions accompanying Smith's demands. The public record establishes that the US had significant economic and military ties to the regime, yet in this exchange, the US is exercising moral pressure without applying any real cost. Smith argues for principles, and Muladi answers with a veto. There is no quid pro quo, no threat of withdrawn support, and no diplomatic ultimatum.

The desk's reading is that the US government was content to let Smith play the role of the moral conscience while the executive branch avoided applying the leverage that might have actually forced the military's hand. By allowing the dialogue to remain in the realm of "principles" and "categories," the State Department could claim it was addressing human rights concerns without risking the stability of a strategic partner during a volatile transition.

This pattern indicates a systemic failure of leverage. The executive branch of the Indonesian government had been entirely bypassed in the security architecture of the state, and the US accepted this arrangement as a fact of life. The civilian government was a ghost, and the military was the only entity that mattered. Any full release of the communications from this period would likely show that the US knew exactly which generals held the keys to Cipinang and chose not to pressure them directly.

In the end, Xanana Gusmao's detention was not a legal issue; it was a security calculation. The record proves that the Ministry of Justice was merely the office where that calculation was explained to foreigners. The cost of this arrangement was paid in the years Gusmao and others spent in cells, while diplomats and ministers talked in circles about the "obstacles" to their freedom.

Sources

  1. Telegram 002977 from US Embassy Jakarta to State Department, "CODEL Smith Calls on Justice Minister Muladi," Confidential — National Security Archive (GWU)
  2. Document PDF (Telegram 002977 from US Embassy Jakarta to State Department, "CODEL Smith Calls on Justice Minister Muladi," Confidential)
  3. Background: Muladi (politician) — Wikipedia