Australia Plus is a minus

BY Duncan Graham

 

                                                     
Australia is failing to broadcast its best television into Southeast Asia, a serious missed opportunity, argues Duncan Graham
Most nations strive to show their best sides to the world through international TV channels, seen as effective means of building rapport and dispelling distrust.

On these platforms they serve documentaries, dramas and newscasts made to enhance their country’s real or imagined virtues.  BBC World, France 24, Al Jazeera, NHK (Japan), Deutsche Welle and other telecasters offer vistas grand using serious money.

The French Government is reported to spend A$117 million a year on France 24 while Russia’s RT channel is believed to have an annual budget of US$300 million. The Voice of America has US$218 million, all from government funds. Now China is expanding its overseas reach with China Central Television.
We have Australia Plus, run by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation with the help of Monash University, the Government of Victoria, and Swisse – a food supplement manufacturer owned by a Hong Kong-based company.

Through this service we give the world Bananas in Pyjamas, Giggle and Hoot and Australian Rules played seriously by no other country apart from a hybrid in Ireland. Yet we live in a region where projecting a positive image among the near neighbours is particularly important as the biggest in the block have reservations about us.

Bananas in Pyjamas, B1 and B2 Source: Wikimedia Commons

According to a recent survey published by the USAsia Centre, Indonesians responded to the question: which country has the closest relationship with President Joko Widodo’s government? Saudi Arabia was first at 47 per cent, followed by China, and the US. Only two per cent said Australia.  Clearly, we have problems.

A strange message to the region

Our presentations to the Asia–Pacific used to be different. For decades, Australian governments believed that broadcasting and telecasting into the region was an important commitment, sowing ideas, informing and influencing.
Using shortwave, Radio Australia started in 1939, mainly to counter Japanese propaganda.  After the war, it became a ‘soft power diplomacy tool’ in the jargon of Foreign Affairs. Other terms commonly found in the literature include ‘globally connected’ and ‘promotion of Australian values’.
Thousands developed their English skills huddled over crackling sets, particularly during the 1950s–60s.  Technology forced changes. Satellites eclipsed land-based transmitters.  Re-brands became necessary but the vision remained and the mission expanded.

In 2006, Foreign Minister Alexander Downer announced that ABC Asia Pacific (formerly Australia Television International) would become Australia Network, with funding from his department plus advertising.

Downer said the ABC would run the network offering ‘high quality programs about Australia and its engagement with the region’. Also promised were ‘extensive news and current affairs programs, Australian-produced education, drama, entertainment and lifestyle programs’.

In 2011, the Labor Government called tenders to run Australia Network. The two main hopefuls were the ABC and Sky TV which had long campaigned to get the job.  When it seemed Rupert Murdoch’s company—no friend of Labor—would get the contract, the tender process was scrapped and the job given to the ABC.

The failure to use the opportunity well is irresponsible

The victory was short-lived. After the Liberal-National Coalition won government in 2013, Australia Network was turned off. Foreign Minister Julie Bishop said the network ‘had failed to deliver a cost-effective vehicle’, but provided no facts to back the claim.
The then ABC managing director Mark Scott said the decision ‘sends a strange message to the region that the Government does not want to use the most powerful communication tools available to it to talk to our regional neighbours about Australia’.

The failure to use the opportunity well is irresponsible.

Killing off the network may have satisfied a political ideology but a legal reality had to be faced. The ABC Charter requires it to be an international broadcaster, so the gap had to be filled.
At the site for Australia Plus,  the image polishers have called it ‘…an opportunity for Australian businesses and a case study in corporate entrepreneurship … an endeavour that should be applauded. It is a positive step for the broadcaster, for public institutions in general and for Australian business.’
So far, few corporates have clapped because their logos are yet to appear on Indonesian screens. The 360 Australian businesses that launched a mighty assault on the Indonesian market in 2015, and again this year with 120 delegates, are absent from the list of sponsors.

It might be logical to assume we would be offering our best and brightest programs

The new service is believed to cost A$20 million a year, with three ‘foundation partners’—in the coy language of one report—‘signing on to advertising deals worth in the low single-digit million dollar range’.  Presumably, this means somewhere between one and three million a year, so still a minority contribution.
As Australian leaders recite the mantra that our relationship with Indonesia is our most important foreign relationship, it might be logical to assume we would be offering our best and brightest programs, selected specifically for the archipelago and other markets.

On set for Home and Away Photo: John Campbell Source: Wikimedia Commons

According to the ABC ‘the service is delivered as a single stream across all territories.  Programs do not have separate versions for individual territories.’  So it is one-size-fits-all in the 43 countries that get Australia Plus. This negates the broadcaster’s claim that ‘the ABC places the audience at the centre of everything it does’.

In Indonesia, three pay-to-use cable services carry Australia Plus.  They get it free.  The ABC says it is ‘available to three million people in Indonesia.’ This means the number who pay for access to networks each offering 50 or more channels.

We are the closest Western nation to Indonesia with the ability to present a different perspective in the media jungle of Southeast Asia. Australia Plus says its mission is ‘to provide a television and digital service that informs, entertains and inspires our audience with an uniquely Australian perspective.’  Note the order of priorities.

Indonesian viewers comparing Australia Plus with presentations from other nations might conclude that we are a poor country offering inconsistent fare, and indifferent to audience needs.

No lack of skills and talent, just lack of political will

This situation may not concern the Government but it appears to worry the ABC. In March this year it made an untitled submission to the Foreign Policy White Paper.
The DFAT document noted the expansion of the BBC World Service and other TV networks into overseas telecasting while reminding DFAT of some original principles: ‘Australia requires a strategy for engagement which enhances mutual understanding and respect and which encourages an exchange of ideas. Establishing strong cultural and social links with international populations will facilitate stronger economic ties and more productive collaboration.’

Perhaps this late prod to conscience might someday get a reaction.  However, so far nothing seems to stir the major parties. They enjoy ABC and SBS excellence at home and offer heart-warming statements about Australia being respected in the region.

If Australia’s overseas TV is supposed to project a robust Western democracy, a creative explorer of art and technology and a leader in education, then Australia Plus is a turn-off. It could be a splendid showcase in Indonesia and the other nations where it is available, spreading Australian news, culture, values and opinions, equal to its international competitors.

We have the skills and talent.  What we lack is political will.

(This article is based on a paper presented at the Indonesia Council Open Conference at Flinders University.)

Between persecution and prosecution: vigilantes, the state and the politics of offence.

By: Sana Jaffrey and Siswo Mulyartono

Dr Fiera Lovita, from Solok in West Sumatra, fled to Jakarta after she was intimidated by members of the Islamic Defenders Front FPI). Screenshot of press conference broadcast by Net.

Indonesia has had a tumultuous year dealing with a divisive election and massive protests against Jakarta’s former governor, led by the Islamic Defenders’ Front (FPI). Things finally appeared to calm down last month, until the police charged FPI’s firebrand leader, (link is external) Rizieq Shihab, in a pornography case. Since then, a series of incidents involving intimidation of FPI critics has renewed public outcry about aggression by hard-line religious groups. This time, at the centre of the storm is no loud-mouthed politician. It is a 15-year-old boy.

A video that went viral (link is external) last week shows the teenager, accused of posting offensive material about Rizieq on his Facebook page, surrounded by several men claiming affiliation with the FPI. As the mob coerces him into reading an apology, the teen is repeatedly told that other offenders have suffered a much worse fate. “We, at the FPI still follow procedure but people can’t contain themselves if their leader is insulted.” As if to demonstrate, two men strike the teenager while the crowd breaks into raucous laughter.

Data compiled by free-speech advocacy network SAFEnet (link is external) shows that the harassment of the Jakarta-based teenager is part of a much broader pattern of “persecution” by the FPI. Since January 2017, at least 59 people have been subjected to similar intimidation after criticising the organisation on various social media platforms. Out of recorded cases, 34 took place in May, after the police named Rizieq a potential suspect. Initially, most incidents occurred in Jakarta and West Java but have since spread to other parts of the country.

Observers have rightly noted the “organised” nature (link is external) of this intimidation campaign by the FPI. After successfully leading the rallies to “defend Islam” in Jakarta in late 2016, the previously fringe organisation was openly courted by mainstream Muslim politicians. (link is external) Presumably, preventing public ridicule of Rizieq’s alleged sex chats (link is external) seeks to protect this hard-won social capital that could prove useful during the local and national elections looming in 2018 and 2019. However, two aspects of these recent events can explain how their significance goes beyond the narrow political interests of any single organisation and why this mode of intimidation is likely to recur.

First, FPI’s recent campaign builds on a tried-and-tested template of indignant mob action to regulate social behaviour. As a general phenomenon, where mobs either demand enforcement of the law to their satisfaction or directly punish a range of alleged transgressions, vigilantism is rampant (link is external) in Indonesia. As a self-professed vigilante organisation, the FPI also has a long history of conducting raids (link is external) against a host of “immoral” activities. Yet, the specific mode of intimidation observed in the recent set of cases against individuals accused of offending religious leaders is neither unique to the FPI nor to its hard-line ideological agenda.

Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), the largest Muslim organisation in Indonesia, also conducts online monitoring (link is external) as part of an agreement with the National Police. (link is external) Over the past year, members of NU’s youth militia, Banser, have identified and “managed” several individuals accused of posting derogatory comments about NU religious leaders (kiyai).

In November 2016, a housewife from Serpong, on the outskirts of Jakarta, was accused of insulting Kiyai Maimoen. (link is external) She used crude words to dismiss his suggestion that Ahok’s apology was sufficient to put the blasphemy matter to rest. Following a visit by Banser members, she was driven to Central Java, where she apologised to Maimoen in person. A Jakarta resident who ridiculed a tweet by Mustofa Bisri (commonly known as Gus Mus) was met with a similar response. (link is external) In January, NU’s cyber team tracked offensive comments about the organisation’s leader, Said Aqil Siradj. A Jember man accused of causing the offence issued a public apology (link is external) in a press conference arranged by the local Banser chapter. Most recently, a Jakarta man refused to retract his allegedly offensive comments about Kiyai Lutfi Yahya. Following a visit by local Banser personnel, he promptly signed a statement of apology (link is external) and posted it on his social media page.

Members of Indonesia’s second largest Muslim organisation, Muhammadiyah, have also taken a similar course. Last month, the organisation’s youth wing in Sidoarjo, East Java, took issue with the online comments of a local man accused of insulting two former leaders, Din Syamsuddin and Amien Rais. The accused was asked for “clarification” (link is external) at the local police station, where he signed a written apology.

There are no reports of NU or Muhammadiyah members engaging in the kind of violence seen in the video of the Jakarta teen. The scale of their efforts is also much smaller than FPI’s recent campaign. But the general mode of response to a perceived offense is similar: the accused offender is reported through a dedicated social media account; the offensive post is circulated until the accused is tracked down; a group claiming affiliation with the offended organisation visits the accused and obtains an apology.

It is worth noting that there is no attempt to conduct these proceedings in secrecy. Instead, the organisation’s visit and the apology from the accused offender are highly publicised affairs, with photographs and videos widely circulated on social media. Creating a public spectacle not only punishes the individual accused of an offence, but also serves to forewarn others to adjust their behaviour accordingly.

Second, despite the recent arrests (link is external) and disciplinary action (link is external) against local police heads, the Indonesian state systematically encourages this mode of “offence” management. Recent incidents involving the FPI prompted several observers and victims to lament the “state’s absence”. (link is external) Ironically, however, state officials have not only been present in most of the recorded cases, but have actively facilitated written apologies from the accused.

In the case of the Jakarta teenager, the neighbourhood head was given advance notice by the FPI and the entire session (link is external) took place in his office. When a Tangerang woman was accused of insulting Rizieq, the local police chief called her in for questioning and negotiated an apology in his office. (link is external) According to a doctor from Solok, West Sumatra, who faced relentless harassment by FPI members until she fled to Jakarta, the police remained in close contact with her throughout her ordeal. An intelligence officer first warned her (link is external) about the impending visit from FPI. The subdistrict police chief facilitated her apology and signed on as a witness. The district police chief, who was eventually removed from her post for her role in the case, also met with the doctor several times.

What explains the relatively uniform state response to these incidents, at varying times and in different places? Two mutually reinforcing dynamics are at play. First, there are strong institutional incentives for formal law-enforcement officials to push for semi-formal mediation of social disputes. The police are generally under pressure to de-clog the already overwhelmed criminal justice system. When faced with a mob, these bureaucratic concerns are compounded by the need to thwart potentially embarrassing violent confrontation through negotiation.

As a result, junior police officers are required to engage in “problem-solving (link is external)” with communities to resolve disputes amicably (secara kekeluargaan) through dialogue (musyawarah). Typically, this involves holding a mediation session in conjunction with other government officials. The accused signs a letter admitting guilt and promising not to repeat the offence. The complainant also signs a letter accepting any compensation that is negotiated in the process and promising not to press legal charges. All officials co-sign the stamped letters and the case is considered resolved.

This arbitration is mostly used for resolving disputes involving individuals, such as petty theft, adultery, assault and traffic accidents. But it is also becoming the routine method for settling religious disputes (link is external) where one party is either an individual or a minority with considerably less leverage than the other. In cases where one side is represented by a mob, state officials explicitly cite (link is external) the threat of violence to initiate mediation. In dealing with recent cases of intimidation by the FPI, the local police seem to have broadly followed this rather standard procedure.

Second, strict legislation to control online defamation in general and religious offence, in particular, creates equally strong incentives for the accused to agree to semi-formal mediation. Consider the alternatives. Even if an individual is prepared to risk mob violence and refuses mediation, she would face a lengthy legal investigation that is highly likely to result in an arraignment. According to data gathered by SafeNET (link is external), between 2008 and 2009, 79 cases were filed with the police, out of which 67 individuals were formally charged.

To make matters worse, the same mob that was previously pressuring the accused for an apology would now mobilise to “guard” (kawal) the legal process (link is external) to ensure a satisfactorily hefty sentence is doled out. Given widespread concerns about susceptibility of the courts to this kind of pressure, the odds of a conviction are high. At the same time, the offended organisation is likely to lean on the accused’s employers and neighbours to elicit social sanction. Given these options, it is not difficult to see why an accused individual would rather resign herself to the outcome of an unfair mediation after persecution, than risk prosecution by the state.

There is no denying FPI’s recent campaign is designed to protect its organisational interests. However, there is ample evidence to suggest that other, more moderate organisations have also engaged in similar efforts. Collectively, these efforts represent the latest skirmish in a much wider contest over boundaries of religious offence in Indonesia. The goal is not to eliminate offenders but to publically cow them into submission. Vigilante action is proving to be an effective tactic, even for mainstream organisations, because it allows them to leverage the coercive capacity of the Indonesian state to achieve their ends.


 Sana Jaffrey is a PhD candidate at the University of Chicago’s Department of Political Science and a visiting fellow at the Center for Study of Religion and Democracy (PUSAD Paramadina). She previously led the design and implementation of the National Violence Monitoring System (NVMS) database at the World Bank during 2008-2013.

 Siswo Mulyartono is a researcher at PUSAD Paramadina. He has co-authored "Policing Religious Conflicts in Indonesia" and wrote his BA thesis on the anti-Ahmadiyya mobilisation in Cikeusik, Banten, at the Faculty of Political and Social Sciences of Syarif Hidayatullah State Islamic University in Jakarta.