The EU mission in Aceh : implementing peace.
Date: 2005-12-30
Institutions: European Union Institute for Security Studies
Subjects: Indonesia, common foreign and security policy, crisis management, establishment of peace, fact-finding mission, military intervention, peacekeeping, the EU's international role

Occasional Paper

December 2005

n°61

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi

The EU mission in Aceh:
implementing peace 

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Occasional Paper

December 2005

n°61

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi

The EU mission in Aceh:
implementing peace 

Pierre-Antoine Braud and Giovanni Grevi are currently Research Fellows at the EU Institute for Security
Studies.

1

Contents

Summary  

Introduction

3

5

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

Pierre-Antoine Braud 7

1

2

2.1 Reinforcing Acehnese identity: a resented integration 

into the Indonesian Republic

2.2 Spreading dissatisfaction: the impact of Indonesian economic governance
2.3 Paving the way for a popular separatist agenda: the impact of Indonesian 

military intervention

2.4 The tortuous road to negotiations: a by-product of changes in Indonesia

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated 
crisis management

3

Giovanni Grevi

3.1 Progress on the ground
3.2 Negotiations in Brussels: money matters
3.3 The mandate and the structure of AMM
3.4 The EU presence and activity on the ground
3.5 The AMM and EU civilian crisis management: incremental progress
3.6 Conclusion

a

Annex

Abbreviations

7

10

12

16

21

23

24

27

29

32

36

37

37

.

2

Summary

The EU mission in Aceh: implementing peace

The EU Monitoring Mission in Aceh (AMM), Indonesia, marks a new step on the path of the Union

to becoming a global player. Endowed with a robust mandate including monitoring demobilisation,

the decommissioning of arms, the withdrawal of government forces, the reintegration of former com-

batants and the launch of a new political process, this new ESDP mission has so far provided an effec-

tive contribution in ending years of fighting and paving the way to sustainable peace. 

The roots of the conflict date back a long way. In 1976, a separatist movement was created in

Aceh. The Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka-GAM), consisting of a couple of hundred

combatants, engaged in skirmishes against the security forces until 1979. The army easily defeated it.

Among the Acehnese population of four million people, however, resentment towards Jakarta was

strong. Economically, the province felt deprived of its resources, which accrued to the central govern-

ment. Based on Islam and its past history as an independent Sultanate, its strong regional identity

was challenged by a highly centralised government.

In 1989, GAM resumed its limited military activities. A massive campaign of military repression

ensued. In Acehnese society, massive human rights abuses led to growing support for a separatist

agenda. Following the fall of the dictatorship in 1998, the role of the military in Indonesian politics

began to be challenged. The Acehnese conflict became an instrument in the power struggle between

rival factions in Jakarta. The repressive methods of the military were contested wherever the army

resorted to them. 

The changing balance of power in Jakarta opened a window of opportunity for a negotiated set-

tlement. The terms for an agreement were progressively elaborated, but their implementation failed

until 2004. Stalemate was unlocked by the heightened focus of the international community on Aceh

following the tsunami disaster in December 2004 and the conciliatory initiatives of the newly elected

President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. The authoritative involvement of Maarti Ahtisaari con-

tributed much to bringing the negotiations to a successful outcome in July 2005. The EU proved will-

ing and able to take over from there and launch a mission to monitor the peace agreement in the space

of a few weeks. 

The AMM is the central component of a wider range of instruments and measures deployed by

the EU in Aceh. The added value of the European intervention consists in the effective coordination

of EU tools to both reconstruct the region ravaged by the tsunami and sustain the political process of

reconciliation by facilitating reintegration and consolidating local administration. Coordination

matters not only between EU actors but also with international partners. The AMM includes the

sizeable contribution of five countries from ASEAN. This is tangible evidence of the EU's commit-

ment to promoting regional organisations as a pillar of effective multilateralism. 

3

Introduction

In  the  light  of  Indonesian  history,  popular

claims for independence in Aceh could be per-
ceived as a paradox. Unlike the two other main
territories  with  separatist  movements,1 Aceh
had contributed significantly to the establish-
ment  of  the  Indonesian  Republic  in  1949.  In
Acehnese society, the broad consensus was that
Aceh  was  at  the  vanguard  of  the  nationalist
movement and incarnated essential Islamic val-
ues in a country where Muslims comprised 88%
of the total population. 

However, a highly centralised system that
played  down  regional  specificities  quickly
appeared  in  Indonesia  under  the  ‘Guided
Democracy’  regime  (1949-1967)  and  during
the ‘New Order’ period (1967-1998). The mili-
tary became pivotal in Indonesian politics and
was in fact the pillar of this centralised system.
It fuelled strong resentment in several parts of
the  Indonesian  archipelago,  made  up  of
18,000  islands  inhabited  by  more  than  300
communities.2 In Aceh, a separatist movement
was  created  in  1976.  However,  it  failed  to
mobilise Acehnese grievances and by 1979 had
been  quashed  by  a  campaign  of  military
repression. 

Ten years later, in 1989, it was able to resume
its  military  operations.  For  sixteen  years,  the
Free  Aceh  Movement  (Gerakan  Aceh  Merdeka-
GAM)  was  involved  in  skirmishes  with  the
Indonesian army. Although no major fighting
occurred,  this  low-intensity  guerrilla  warfare
was  nevertheless  accompanied  by  massive
human rights abuses. Out of a population of 4
million  Acehnese,  10,000  people  were  killed,

while arbitrary arrests and destruction of prop-
erty were common. During the 1990s, the mili-
tary constantly opposed any negotiations. After
the end of the dictatorship in 1998, attempts to
reach a political settlement failed. As with other
conflicts  within  Indonesia,  the  military  con-
stantly advocated that the rebellion be crushed.
However, the changing balance of power within
the army and between civilian and military pow-
ers has gradually enlarged opportunities for a
peace  settlement.  By  focusing  international
attention  on  Aceh,  the  tsunami  tragedy  of
December 2004 fostered conditions favourable
to a political approach to this conflict. Although
an  agreement  was  signed  in  August  2005
between GAM and the Indonesian government,
its implementation was conditional on an effi-
cient monitoring mechanism in order to over-
come distrust between the parties. 

By  the  time  the  Government  of  Indonesia
and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) signed an
historical  Memorandum  of  Understanding
(MoU) in Helsinki on 15 August 2005, putting
an end to the conflict in the Indonesian region
of Aceh, progress towards launching a joint EU-
ASEAN monitoring mission to ensure that the
terms  of  the  agreement  were  respected  was
already well under way. This was made possible
by  a  rather  unconventional,  but  effective,
approach to the launching of the Aceh Monitor-
ing Mission (AMM). 

Establishing the AMM required procedural
and budgetary creativity and fast action on the
part of Brussels-based actors, working in coop-
eration with various proactive national govern-

1 East Timor and Irian Jaya, the former Netherlands New Guinea. East Timor was a Portuguese colony until 1975. It was then invaded and
annexed by Indonesia. After four decades of conflict, a referendum held in 1999 paved the way for independence, which became official in
2002. Irian Jaya was invaded by the Indonesian army in 1961 and annexed to Indonesia in 1969. 
2 The Javanese represent 45% of the Indonesian population. The Acehnese population represents 4 million people out of a total of 240 million
Indonesians.

1

5

The EU mission in Aceh: implementing peace

ments. This should be welcomed as evidence of
the ability to respond to an urgent request for
EU intervention, in the absence of the financial
and logistical means required for timely plan-
ning and implementation. 

An analysis of the decision-making process,
however, reveals that procedural, and above all
budgetary, craftsmanship is not sustainable in
the long term. Certainly, flexibility should be a
prerequisite when facing up to the new chal-
lenges  confronting  ESDP,  notably  when  it
comes to operations. Indeed, while preventive
strategies and early warning can anticipate or
avoid  crises,  crisis  management  is  an  inher-
ently  reactive  and  unpredictable  domain  of
action. 

Precisely  because  of  that,  however,  it  is
essential that sound procedures and adequate
resources are in place to enable decisions to be
taken quickly followed by their prompt execu-
tion. In the case of the EU, success will depend in
most cases on maximising the synergy between
all  the  instruments  available  to  the  Union,
whether they fall within the remit of CFSP or
within  the  competences  of  the  Community.
When it takes action in the world, the Union is

perceived  as  one.  Success,  failure,  determina-
tion, professionalism, competence and expert-
ise are all attributed not to separate institutional
actors but to the Union as such. 

The European Security Strategy called for a
more  capable  and  more  coherent  Europe.
According to the Strategy, ‘all necessary civilian
resources’ need to be brought to bear in crisis
and post-crisis situations. Having created differ-
ent  instruments  with  their  own  distinctive
structure and rationale, the ‘challenge now is to
bring  together  the  different  instruments  and
capabilities’ from Member States, ranging from
European  assistance  programmes  to  military
and civilian capabilities. In the run-up to the
AMM, some resistance emerged against match-
ing these words fully with deeds, and bridging
institutional divides while respecting the pre-
rogatives of each body.

Those who worked hard to get the mission
going, and succeeded, should be applauded for
overcoming institutional and financial barriers.
But their efforts only serve to underscore the
fact that serious thinking has to be devoted to
the long-term viability of the decision-making
and budgetary framework. 

6

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: 
a recurring deadlock

Pierre-Antoine Braud

2.1 Reinforcing Acehnese 
identity: a resented integration 
into the Indonesian Republic

I n the mid-1940s, as the Indonesian nationalist
movement was fighting for independence, Aceh
became a rear base which provided significant
financial  support  to  the  nationalist  forces
opposing the Dutch colonial power.1 In a classic
divide-and-rule strategy, the colonial authori-
ties offered a federal state status to the Acehnese
leaders. This could have been a first step towards
independence for this region. Indeed, Aceh had
for a long time been an independent state. The
colonial power conquered it in the late 19th and
early 20th centuries after thirty years of war.2
However, the Acehnese leadership turned down
the proposal. A strong regional identity based
on Islam, a long history of resistance to the colo-
nial  conquest  and  the  memory  of  a  past
autonomous  state  were  not  in  this  case  con-
ducive to a separatist agenda.

On the contrary, these factors were part of
the emerging sense of Indonesian identity in
Acehnese society: Aceh perceived itself to be a
nationalist vanguard, joining a common strug-
gle, hence expressing its solidarity with other
Muslims  of  the  Dutch  Indies.  Although  it
emerged in the mid-1970s, it was not until the
1990s that the separatist agenda gained exten-
sive support in Acehnese society and among its

local  elites.  Reversing  the  rationale  of  the
1940s, Acehnese regional identity and its ‘cul-
ture of resistance’ were then often considered
in Jakarta as favouring a separatist agenda.

As with many of the various conflicts occur-
ring in Indonesia, the central power focused on
specific regional or local issues in its efforts to
interpret the situation. As far as the latter was
concerned,  local  leaders  were  manipulating
populations by exploiting regional distinctive
characteristics in Eastern Timor, Irian Jaya, the
archipelagos of Moluccas or Sulawesi, in the
provinces  of  Riau  (central  Sumatra)  or  Kali-
matan (Borneo). Such arguments overlooked a
crucial  issue:  resistance  encountered  by  an
authoritarian state-building process identified
with a Javanese power,3 based on a highly cen-
tralised economic and political system of gov-
ernance. This process did not only affect local
elites who lost a significant part of their influ-
ence;  it  trickled  down  to  ordinary  people,  as
military and administrative apparatus became
more present in daily life. Consequently, the
previous social order was challenged, while eco-
nomic policy often contributed to antagonise
local communities with regard to the land issue
and  limited  alternative  economic  prospects.
Dissatisfaction  and  resentment  against  the
central power accumulated steadily. Acehnese
regional identity was altered and became antag-
onistic to national identity.

Gradually, significant obstacles appeared to
challenge the idea of Aceh becoming part of

1 Tim Kell, The Roots of the Acehnese Rebellion 1989-1992 (New York: Ithaca, Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1995) p.10.
2 Aceh began to be part of the trade routes between China, Africa and Middle-East from the 9th century onwards. In the 14th century, it
became a regional power, which controlled the trade routes across the Malacca straits. In the 16th century, a coalition of rival regional powers
and Portugal defeated its army. Although it remained an independent entity, it re-emerged as a regional power in the 18th century, until the
Dutch colonial army defeated and annexed the Sultanate.
3 During the era of the Suharto regime (1967-1998), the toll of dead stemming from this process has been estimated at 750,000. Cf. Benedict
Anderson (ed.), Violence and the State in Suharto’s Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell South East Asia Publications, 2001).

2

7

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

Indonesia,  as  a  consequence  of  intertwining
dynamics between increasing mistrust towards
Jakarta stemming from economic and political
misgovernance, an evolving sense of regional
identity based on a distinctive Islamic identity
and anti-Javanese feelings, and revived memo-
ries of past glory and violence. These combined
elements facilitated the emergence of an armed
movement as a legitimate way of contesting the
stranglehold of the central power.

In spite of their contribution to the inde-
pendence  struggle,  Acehnese  elites  gradually
retreated into a regionalist agenda, which was
reinforced  by  a  reasserted  regional  identity.
Two key political phases paved the way for such
an evolution.

In the aftermath of Indonesian independ-
ence,  constitutional  debates  among  increas-
ingly  divided  nationalist  and  Islamic  figures
were concluded in favour of the former, led by
Sukarno,  the  first  Indonesian  president.
Indonesia  did  not  become  an  Islamic  state.
Acehnese leaders, as well as several Islamic fig-
ures in Indonesia, considered this evolution as
a major setback. It weakened their allegiance to
the new central power, as their ‘nationalism was
strongly enmeshed with the ideals of an Islamic
state’.4 One of Aceh’s major motives for joining
the nationalist cause disappeared; a feeling of
betrayal emerged with regard to the new central
power.

This was particularly resented among the
ulamas, the Islamic clerics who gained a crucial
influence in Aceh because of their key role in
the nationalist struggle. As the traditional elite
–  the  uleebalang –  allied  itself  to  the  colonial
power, adhering to the nationalist cause also
enabled the ulamas to evict the latter from local
power. In Aceh, the 1940s led to a dual phe-
nomenon:  expelling  the  Dutch  authorities,
then transforming the local governance to the
benefit of the ulamas and their kinsmen, hence

reinforcing the Islamic identity of Aceh. Local
power, social order, and religion got entangled.
When  the  Indonesian  ministry  of  religion
refused  to  recognise  the  religious  courts  in
1950, this was thus challenging a power base of
the ulama, their religious beliefs, as well as part
of the social order in rural areas. Such a deci-
sion was to pave the way for an institutionalised
judiciary,  instead  of  local  customary  law.  Its
implementation was entangled with religious
practices and institutions: arbitrating village
affairs was the responsibility of a group of eld-
ers and prominent figures leading the five daily
prayers.

A second initiative from Jakarta fuelled dis-
trust  towards  the  central  power  and  further
challenged the power of the local elite. In 1950,
one year after independence, the briefly agreed
federation was dissolved by Jakarta. The feder-
alist agenda that was promoted by the Acehnese
elite was defeated in favour of a unitary state. In
order  to  implement  this  policy,  Jakarta  reas-
signed a significant number of Acehnese mili-
tary and civil servants without any prior consul-
tation. They were mostly sent to other parts of
Sumatra  Island,  while  non-Acehnese  were
appointed in Aceh. The administrative struc-
ture  headed  by  the  Acehnese  during  the  five
years of the nationalist struggle was further dis-
mantled when Aceh province was included in a
larger province of North Sumatra in 1950.

As both their ideals of the Indonesian state
and their local power base were challenged, the
Acehnese elites – ulamas, civil servants, and mili-
tary – joined the rebellion of Darul Islam/Tentara
Islam Indonesia (the Indonesian Islamic Army).5
This rebellion started in 1953 in west Java and
aimed  at  transforming  Indonesia  into  an
Islamic  state.  Thanks  to  the  ulama networks
within  local  society,6 the  Aceh  branch  of  the
Darul Islam drew widespread popular support.
As in the 1940s, seceding from Indonesia was

4 Jacques Bertrand, Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), p.166.
5 The leader of the Darul Islam in Aceh was himself a ulama and the former military governor during the Independence war. Tim Kell, op.
cit., p.11.
6 Kees van Dijk, Rebellion under the banner: Darul Islam in Indonesia (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981), pp.326-327. They were thus resuming
their past role in resisting the colonial conquest and in contributing to the nationalist cause. 

8

Pierre-Antoine Braud

not part of the Acehnese agenda.7 Establishing a
national  state  compatible  with  local  issues
remained the main motive for participating in
this rebellion.

Nevertheless, it also reinforced a sense of a
distinctive identity in Aceh. Although there was
only limited fighting in the province until the
end of this rebellion in 1962,8 intermittent sys-
tematic  slaughters  of  male  civilians  by  the
Indonesian army revived memories of past vio-
lence that occurred a generation earlier while
resisting the colonial power.9 Central powers,
either Dutch or Indonesian, could be perceived
as a recurrent cause of unleashed violence; this
perceived common experience not only created
a  lasting  mistrust,  but  also  reinforced  a  per-
ceived common experience of violence as part
of Acehnese identity.

The Indonesian army was not able to quell
the  rebellion;  a  negotiated  settlement  with
some of the rebels was made in 1957. Although
it facilitated an end to the conflict, it also con-
tributed  to  enhancing  the  distinctiveness  of
Acehnese  identity;  moreover,  the  Acehnese
elites  relinquished  their  national  claims  and
focused on local power and governance. Aceh
was granted special status, re-establishing it as
a region. After having been removed from the
region,  Acehnese  civil  servants  and  soldiers
were reappointed to Aceh; an Acehnese gover-
nor was appointed and chosen within an organ-
isation that supported the rebellion. A homo-
geneous Acehnese administration was put in
place. Furthermore, it was agreed that Islamic
law was to be implemented in Aceh; this was
fully recognised in 1962.

The  events  of  1965-66  that  occurred  in
Indonesia  might  provide  an  example  of  this
redefined agenda focusing on regional issues.
Challenged  by  part  of  the  army,  President
Sukarno  and  his  ‘Guided  Democracy’  regime
was  maintaining  a  precarious  power  balance
between political parties and the military. He
benefited from tacit and vital support from the
PKI, the Indonesian Communist Party. In the
wake of an attempted coup attributed to the PKI,
General  Suharto  and  his  faction  launched  a
campaign of repression against the PKI, which
unleashed  mass  violence.10 In  Aceh,  ulamas
issued a fatwa that legitimised the murders of
‘atheist’ communists.11 Resorting to violence
was validated: Muslim youth organisations par-
ticipated in the mass violence along with the
Indonesian  army.  Thousands  of  people  were
killed in the name of anti-communism. As fre-
quently happens in a mass violence situation,
the overall legitimisation for the slaughters pro-
vided an umbrella for murdering individuals for
motives  linked  to  underlying  cleavages  and
resentments.  As  PKI  was  locally  regarded  as
being  a 
Javanese
Javanese  organisation, 
migrants could also be targeted in slaughters
that  reflected  Acehnese  hostility  towards  the
central power, associated with the Javanese.12

Nevertheless, these Muslim youth associa-
tions  contributed  to  providing  popular  sup-
port for the army, contradicting the Acehnese
agenda at the national level. The Indonesian
army was the pillar of anti-federalist policy and
strongly  opposed  the  granting  of  special
regional status. However, local agendas led to a
de facto support to the army. Following this out-

7 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.164.
8 Geoffrey Robinson, ‘Rawan is as rawan does: the origins of disorder in New Order Aceh’, in Benedict Anderson (ed.), op. cit., p.216.
9 In 1913, the colonial power was fully in control of Aceh, after 30 years of war and guerrilla warfare. 10,000 colonial troops were killed
during this period, while 75,000 Acehnese lost their lives, i.e. 15% of the Acehnese population. Cf. Henk Schulte Nordholt, ‘A Genealogy of
Violence’, in Freek Colombijn and Thomas Lindblad (eds.), Roots of Violence in Indonesia. Contemporary violence in historical perspective (Leiden:
KITLV Press, 2002), p.36.
10 The Indonesian army later assessed that 800,000 communists – or alleged communists – were killed in 1965-66. On this period, cf.
Benedict Anderson and Ruth McVey, A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell University, 1971);
Robert Cribb, The Indonesian Killings 1965-1966 (Clayton, Victoria, 1990).
11 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.28.
12 Cf. Robert Cribb, op. cit.; Harold Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia (New York: Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 1988).

9

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

break of mass violence, General Suharto and
the  army  toppled  Sukarno.  They  established
the ‘New Order’ regime in 1967. An over-cen-
tralised government was steadily established.
As in 1950, Jakarta reneged on past agreements
and reinforced distrust towards negotiated set-
tlement as a way to guarantee regional specifici-
ties  in  Aceh.  In  the  early  1970s,  the  special
regional status of Aceh was de facto erased. A
new  law  on  regional  administration  was
adopted in 1974. It ‘laid the ground for a tight-
ening central control over the composition of
regional administrations’ and was considered
by the military as an ‘antidote to disintegrative
forces’:13 provincial governors were appointed
by the President, and their accountability to the
provincial assemblies was abolished. Instead of
their previous roles – advocating for regional
interests to Jakarta – they became representa-
tives  of  the  central  power.  In  order  to
strengthen its control over regions, the inner
circles of the ‘New Order’ regime allowed part
of the local elites to join their patronage net-
works. Some Acehnese were thus able to rise to
prominent positions in the administration and
the military.14

Moreover, the regime promoted the emer-
gence of a new technocratic elite, both at the
national and local levels. Local administrations
then became tools of the government to imple-
ment policies decided in Jakarta without signif-
icant prior consultation. This extreme centrali-
sation meant that Jakarta had become the only
way  to  access  power  and  wealth.  As  a  conse-
quence, local elites were competing for support
from Jakarta and became increasingly discon-
nected from local populations. In Aceh, the ula-
mas also  joined  the  patronage  networks  of
Jakarta by adhering to an ulama national coun-
cil.  Moreover,  a  significant  proportion  of
Acehnese technocrats belonged to ulama fami-
lies.  A  certain  consensus  established  itself
among the various local notables; the popula-

tion was deprived of any intermediaries to con-
vey its concerns to Jakarta.

Part of the local elite did not fully relinquish
its local agenda. However, reshaping the past his-
tory of Aceh became one of the remaining issues
on which they could have an impact. Some influ-
ential ulamas wrote and disseminated a consen-
sual history of the past glory of Aceh. The fight-
ing and violence in which the former Sultanate
engaged  in  order  to  establish  its  control  over
Aceh were sidelined; the religious role of Aceh in
spreading Islam in the current Indonesian archi-
pelago was regularly highlighted. This rebuild-
ing of history reduced local cleavages between
communities, in particular between the hinter-
land and the coastal areas.15 This further rein-
forced  the  sense  of  distinctiveness  of  the
Acehnese and became part of the ‘hidden tran-
scripts’16 –  an  unofficial  history  which  was
widely disseminated among the population and
which subverted a national discourse allegedly
building unity among Indonesians. 

Moreover, a high level of grievance and dis-
satisfaction  stemming  from  Indonesian  eco-
nomic  policy  further  sustained  this  ‘hidden
transcript’. It added to memories of violence,
political mistrust, and an entrenched sense of
Acehnese  separateness  and  distinctiveness:
without being perceived by Jakarta, there was a
growing gulf between Acehnese society and the
central power.

2.2 Spreading dissatisfaction: 
the impact of Indonesian 
economic governance

Like  many  decolonised  countries,  Indonesia
adopted an import-substitution strategy as a
key principle of its economic policy. Industrial-
isation was based on creating public companies

13 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.32.
14 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.169.
15 John Bowen, ‘Narrative Form and Political Incorporation: Changing Uses of History in Aceh, Indonesia’, Comparative Studies in Society and
History, vol. 31, no. 4 (October 1989).
16 James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990).

10

Pierre-Antoine Braud

in strategic spheres, while trade barriers were
put in place in order to favour the development
of  national  entrepreneurs.  In  fact,  its  imple-
mentation created monopolies and reoriented
trade routes towards Java. Moreover, it became
an engine for clientelist networks and a pillar of
the political system. Jakarta’s inner circles of
power  resorted  to  an  extremely  centralised
political and economic system to favour their
allies and cronies. Well-connected private con-
glomerates  established  monopolies  on  the
most profitable markets, while appointments
in the main public companies were politically
motivated. Thanks to its dominant influence,
the military benefited from this system by rais-
ing extra-budgetary revenues via senior officers
appointed in public companies or its own ‘pri-
vate’  companies.17 Beyond  controlling  the
internal market, this policy was also based on
exporting raw materials, gas and oil, as well as
agricultural products. Without connections to
the inner circles and their extended networks in
the various provinces, limited economic oppor-
tunities remained.

Like several regions of Indonesia, Aceh suf-
fered significant consequences of this system of
economic governance. It affected a large range
of people involved in local economic activities,
from fishermen to petty traders and peasants. A
former  regional  trade  centre,  Aceh  became  a
province with fading economic prospects for
its  population.  Its  natural  resources  were
exploited to the benefit of the inner circles in
Jakarta, while limited investments were made
locally.  This  further  reinforced  and  spread
resentment towards Jakarta, increasingly per-
ceived as a predatory power.

In  1977,  a  liquefied  natural  gas  refinery
began to exploit offshore gas in the Lhokseu-
mawe area, on the northern coast of Aceh and
the former centre of the Acehnese kingdom in

the 14th century. By the end of the 1980s, Aceh
represented  30%  of  the  country’s  oil  and  gas
exports. Around the refinery, an industrial zone
was created, where fertilizer, petrochemicals or
cement plants were installed. All these produc-
tion centres were exporting to South-East Asia
and Japan. This soon turned into a key symbol
of ‘Jakarta’s exploitation’. These capital-inten-
sive industries provided limited employment
opportunities. Requisite skills were not avail-
able locally. Thus workers were ‘imported’ from
other areas of Indonesia, in particular Java. The
industrial zone and its suburbs were perceived
as a ‘rich ghetto of migrants’. This was in stark
contrast  to  the  living  conditions  of  some  of
Acehnese who lacked access to water and elec-
tricity.18 For some local inhabitants, the indus-
trial 
large-scale
‘only  produced 
pollution’.19 Actually, pollution contaminated
the sea and affected fish stocks, with the result
that  60%  of  the  fishermen  went  under  the
poverty line. Some peasants were also affected,
when  the  industrial  zone  was  installed  and
enlarged.  They  were  evicted  from  their  land;
compensation was promised but never reached
the displaced people; no infrastructures were
built, except for in the industrial zone.20

zone 

In other part of Aceh, the log industry led to
similar resentment. Its development deprived
local villagers from having access to forest and
land.  Workers  were  often  non-
pasture 
Acehnese. In a way typical of the Indonesian
economic governance, these companies often
belonged to Chinese businessmen associated
with  Jakarta’s  inner  circles.21 In  the  view  of
many Acehnese, alien entrepreneurs supported
by  an  alien  power  were  exploiting  Acehnese
resources.

Two traditional categories of the Acehnese
economy were also affected by Jakarta’s poli-
cies: merchants and peasants. The trade barri-

17 Angel Rabasa and John Haseman, The Military and Democracy in Indonesia. Challenges, Politics and Power (Washington DC: Rand, 2002),
pp.16-17.
18 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.14-15.
19 Ibid. p.17.
20 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.222.
21 Leon Jones, The Security Disturbances in Aceh During 1990 (Victoria, Moniah Asia Institute, 1997), p.21.

11

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

ers disrupted traditional trading links with the
Malaysian Peninsula. Besides, small manufac-
turing businesses had to trade via Medan port,
in central Sumatra, as the Lhokseumawe port
was now exclusively specialised in the export of
gas and industrial products. In spite of the cost
of  shipping  from  Java,  some  of  its  entrepre-
neurs were able to be competitive, as they could
avail  of  a  corrupt  licence  system  of  imports.
Formerly  a  well-connected  trade  route,  Aceh
now became a remote commercial area.

The peasantry also had to contend with the
consequences  of  the  ‘development  policy’
implemented  by  Jakarta.  From  an  economic
point  of  view,  Jakarta  considered  that  Aceh
should be a ‘rice barn’ for Sumatra, while a con-
cession  system  was  supposed  to  develop
export-oriented agriculture. The increased pro-
duction of rice led to a fall in its price. While
prices of commodities were rising, producers
were impoverished. Furthermore, limited alter-
natives to agriculture meant that 70% of the
population had no choice but to live off the
land, while local demography brought about a
further fragmentation of properties. In such a
context, absent landlords – living in Jakarta or
Medan  –  plantations  and  the  ‘transmigrant
programme’ were additional causes of resent-
ment.  The  ‘transmigrant  programme’  was
designed to support settlers establishing them-
selves in the area in order to increase agricul-
ture production. In Aceh, tens of thousands of
settler families arrived in the 1970s and 80s.22
They  were  able  to  benefit  from  plots  of
2.5 hectares  and  basic  infrastructures.  In  a
region where infrastructures were lacking and
the average size of property was lower than 1
hectare,  they  were  perceived  as  a  favoured
group. As most of them came from Java, social
and identity factors once again became entan-
gled as factors of resentment.

The relative wealth of the past, stemming
from the production and exports of rubber, tea,
coffee or pepper, was fading. Its memory was

associated with the past independence of Aceh
or its de facto autonomy during the Indepen-
dence war.

However, such resentment did not turn into
a large-scale confrontation. It was limited to
sporadic  incidents  –  a  couple  of  burnt  log
trucks, anti-Chinese campaigns (as they were
allegedly  corrupting  Acehnese  society  by
importing  prostitution,  alcohol  or  selling
pork), or rare and rapidly quelled protest cam-
paigns, such as calls urging people not to pay
their taxes.23 Gaining access to clientelist net-
works appeared to have been a higher priority.
A local elite loyal to Jakarta was thus able to
contain resentment and hinder popular sup-
port for open confrontation. In the mid-1970s,
they  significantly  contributed  to  isolate  the
Free  Aceh  Movement  (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka-
GAM) and its first attempt to launch a sepa-
ratist armed guerrilla group.24

2.3 Paving the way for a 
popular separatist agenda: the 
impact of Indonesian military 
intervention

The GAM guerrilla army has always been mili-
tarily weak. Both in the late 1970s and in the
1990s, its military actions were limited to skir-
mishes with military or police forces. GAM was
created in 1976. Two years earlier, its leader,
Hassan  di  Tiro,  returned  to  Aceh  and  along
with  an  Acehnese  group  mainly  formed  of
‘intellectuals’,  civil  servants  and  small  busi-
nessmen,  prepared  an  armed  movement.  Di
Tiro  was  himself  a  former  representative  in
New York of Darul Islam. A couple of hundred
combatants were gathered, with a limited num-
ber  of  weapons.  In  the  1970s,  his  movement
neither  benefited  from  significant  popular
support, nor from foreign aid. Lacking these

22 Tim Kell, op. cit., p.26.
23 Leon Jones, op. cit., pp.8 and 10.
24 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.170.

12

two  crucial  supports  of  any  guerrilla  move-
ments, GAM was easily crushed by the military
and their local allies among the Acehnese elite.
However, while di Tiro left Aceh in 1979, a cou-
ple of dozen combatants remained in the cen-
tral mountainous and forest area. Even if no
military actions were launched in the 1980s,
the continued existence of these local remnants
of GAM have provided an argument for this
movement to refer to a ‘war of thirty years for
independence’.

in  1989. 

GAM  activities  resumed 

It
remained a small armed group of a couple of
hundreds  of  combatants.  Dozens  of  recently
dismissed  military  and  police  officers  joined
150  combatants  who  were  reported  to  have
been trained in Libya.25 Nevertheless, as in the
1970s, GAM did not benefit from external sup-
port in the 90s. It also failed to coalesce with
other  Indonesian  rebel  movements.  Di  Tiro
tried  without  success  to  establish  links  with
Fretilin, the Eastern Timorese movement fight-
ing for independence.26 In the 1990s, re-estab-
lishing an Islamic Sultanate was a key element
of GAM propaganda. However, GAM did not
connect itself with the Jemaah Islamiyah, the
Indonesian organisation linked to Al-Qaeda.27
The Acehnese separatist movement remained
an isolated and weak armed group in the 1990s
and early 2000s, which could not secure regular
supply lines to enlarge its number of weapons.
In the early 1990s, seizing 21 weapons from a
military unit was one of its major actions…28
Murders  of  isolated  soldiers  occurred  from
time to time, while attacks against police sta-
tions and government buildings, arsons or riots

Pierre-Antoine Braud

could be attributed to or claimed by GAM.29

Rather  than  implement  Sharia  law,  GAM
focused its propaganda on local issues: alleged
in
discrimination  against  the  Acehnese 
employment and administration, exploitation
of natural resources by Jakarta, stigmatisation
of Javanese settlers, no payback for Aceh’s par-
ticipation  during  the  struggle  for  independ-
ence.30 Posters, slogans and leaflet campaigns
frequently threatened Javanese residents and
enjoined them to leave Aceh. Rather than aim
to create an Islamic realm, GAM held up Brunei
as a model for an independent Aceh.

In spite of its weaknesses, GAM benefited
from a positive image in parts of Acehnese soci-
ety. Myths around GAM were made up among
Acehnese  students  on  their  campus.  These
myths  were  in  continuity  with  the  heroic
images  of  past  heroic  fighters  –  against  the
Dutch or during Darul Islam – while separatist
fighters were believed to have ‘magical’ powers,
such as becoming invisible or invulnerable to
bullets.31 These  stressed  both  discontent
against national authorities and the positive
image of warriors in Acehnese society.

Nevertheless, in 1989, most of the Acehnese
‘were not supportive of the idea of an independ-
ent state, but they saw an opportunity to share
in  common  grievances  against  the  govern-
ment’.32 GAM  could  be  an  umbrella  under
which  accumulated  resentment  could  be
expressed. This was not necessarily leading to
active  commitment  towards  a  separatist
agenda. However, the separatist agenda steadily
gained widespread support in the 1990s. More
than GAM, the Indonesian army and its prac-

25 Di Tiro participated in Libyan-sponsored organization when he based himself in Tripoli.
26 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.219.
27 It might stem from distinct practices and interpretations of Islam. In Aceh, Islamic practices seem to be entangled with traditional
‘cultures’, while taking into account local interests. For example, cropping or using marijuana is considered to comply with Islamic rules,
as marijuana is not mentioned in the Quran. This production often provides supplementary incomes to peasants. The Jemaah Islamiyah
sent combatants to another Indonesian conflict, in the Moluccas. Cf. ICG reports on Indonesia.
28 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.10.
29 Such incidents were not uncommon in Aceh in the 80s. Unpopular institutions from time to time crystallised the hostility of mobs in the
wake of a localised incident. Cf. Leon Jones, op. cit., p.9.
30 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.1 et Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.224.
31 Leon Jones, op. cit., pp.10 and 21.
32 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.172.

13

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

tices played a crucial role in this development.
The  Indonesian  army  resorted  to  systematic
terror  strategies.  Such  an  approach  did  not
derive  from  an  assessment  of  GAM  political
and military threats. As for East Timor, Irian
Jaya or protest movements, systematic repres-
sion was the usual response of the military to
any challenges. Dynamics within the military
and the role of the military in Indonesian poli-
tics at the national level were leading to similar
repressive responses, which did not take into
account  assessments  of  local  dynamics  and
issues. Two dynamics within the military dom-
inated  the  decision-making:  the  balance  of
power and rivalries within the institution, and
a  gradually  developed  doctrine  of  counter-
insurgency, which was crystallising a long his-
tory of violence.

In 1989-90, the military region commander
was  playing  down  the  various  incidents  in
which GAM might have been involved. Clashes
were  ‘groundless  rumours’,  which  were  not
causing major security disturbances.33 Accord-
ing to the authorities, the increased number of
incidents stemmed from anti-criminality oper-
ations, in particular against marijuana crop-
pers.34 In August 1990, his reappointment else-
where was a de facto removal; central command
decided and directed from Jakarta a military
campaign. Military reinforcement was sent to
crush the ‘terrorists’. It was no longer an issue
of law and order, but a national security matter.
More  than  the  local  situation,  such  an
approach  enabled  the  central  military  com-
mand to reinforce its control over an outlying
region. Both the types of units sent to Aceh and
the profiles of new officers in the province illus-
trated this policy. Two types of elite units were
deployed in Aceh: Special Forces and Strategic
Reserve Unit. Most of the officers holding key
positions in these units had close relations with
the military inner circles. In the early 1990s, the

son-in-law  of  President  Suharto,  Prabowo
Subianto, was himself appointed to Aceh at a
time when his influence was rising in the army.
Like Prabowo, several of these officers had pre-
viously implemented repression in Timor, or
had even served in units deeply involved in the
1965-66  slaughters.35 Their  experience  and
training  in  implementing  brutal  methods
framed the repressive policy. This put to an end
to  the  limited  efforts  to  solve  the  conflict
through negotiation.

Statements by the military authorities sig-
nificantly changed; a security matter was con-
sidered as justifying harsh methods. In Novem-
ber  1990,  the  military  region  commander
stated to a Reuter journalist that he ‘ha[s] told
the community, if you find a terrorist, kill him.
There is no need to investigate him [...] If they
don’t do as you order them, shoot them on the
spot, or butcher them. The people know the
unwritten laws so they won’t kill anyone who is
not in the wrong. Well, one or two maybe, but
that’s the risk’. Answering a question on a mass
grave, he said that ‘the grave certainly exists but
I don’t think it could have been two hundred
bodies. It’s hard to tell with arms and heads all
mixed up’.

Such statements were in line with the mili-
tary methods deployed. Units of Special Forces
initiated the burning of house whose inhabi-
tants  were  suspected  of  being  members  of
GAM.  Night-time  raids  and  house-to-house
searches  became  a  routine.  Arbitrary  arrests
were  followed  by  torture.  Some  women  who
were allegedly GAM members were raped. Pub-
lic executions took place. Dead bodies of ‘disap-
peared’ people were abandoned on the sides of
roads.36 Crossing military checkpoints became
a source of fear, as recurrent shootings by the
military occurred. In towns, people began to
avoid  going  out  after  8.00  pm,  as  they  were
afraid of arbitrary arrests. Crossing the path of

33 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.11.
34 In the Acehnese interpretation of Islam, alcohol is prohibited, but not marijuana. As it is not mentioned in the Koran, cropping and
exporting it was said to be licit from a religious point of view. It formed part of their supplementary income for many peasants. 
35 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., pp.236-237.
36 Regarding the wide range of abuses committed by the military, cf. Human Right Watch reports and International Crisis Group, Indonesia:
Impunity Versus Accountability for Gross Human Rights Violations, Asia Report n°12, February 2001.

14

Pierre-Antoine Braud

soldiers became a major security concern. In
addition  to  the  military  activities,  GAM  was
occasionally  attacking  trucks.  Combined
causes of insecurity led to a significant drop in
traffic  on  the  roads;  prices  increased.  Local
prominent  figures  called  on  the  military  to
restrain  and  discipline 
themselves,  but
remained unheard.37 In the name of ‘civil-mili-
tary cooperation’, civilians were compelled to
participate in military operations. These took
the form of compulsory night patrols for the
youth,  putting  villagers  in  line  and  making
them walk in front of the troops during anti-
guerrilla operations, and the compulsory role
of informers.38 Rallies of villagers were also reg-
ularly organised: they were urged to ‘crush ter-
rorist’  and  to  pledge  that  they  would  ‘crush
them until there is nothing left of them’. Insuf-
ficient  zeal  in  implementing  such  ‘commit-
ments’ could be ‘punished’.39 This terror con-
text also favoured increasing corruption: at the
checkpoints controlled by underpaid military,
and in the administration, which overcharged
for identity papers.

Between  1989  and  1991,  2,000  Acehnese
were  killed.40 In  1993,  the  rebellion  was
crushed, except for scattered pockets of com-
batants. Nevertheless, Aceh remained a Mili-
tary  Operations  Area.  Such  a  status  main-
tained an open pre-eminent power of the mili-
tary. It also maintained opportunities for sol-
diers and officers to obtain financial benefits.
Straddling networks of officers and economic
players with Aceh-based businesses could be
established.  The  rank-and-files,  especially
within  the  Special  Forces,  could  also  make
additional money as debt-collectors, security
guards, or by ‘arbitrating’ local business rival-
ries.41

Preserving these financial incentives did not
have  to  involve  a  continuation  of  the  terror
strategy. Nevertheless, it was still implemented.
The terror strategy was not based on an assess-
ment of the situation in Aceh. It resulted from a
common  approach  to  any  ‘security  distur-
bances’ that was gradually established within
the army and shared at the highest level of the
regime. In 1989, President Suharto published
his memoirs. To maintain order, ‘it had to be
violence’. What he called ‘shock therapy’ was
considered as a legitimate tool: ‘those who tried
to resist, like it or not, had to be shot.’42 State-
ments of the regional military commander of
Aceh in November 1990 did not represent an
isolated or extreme position. They reflected the
way in which violence had become both com-
monplace and entrenched among the security
apparatus. Both individual experiences of offi-
cers and a history of violence by the military
were congruent to establish violence as a key
principle  of  governance.  Human  rights  were
perceived  as  a  western  invention  to  weaken
Indonesian  cohesion.  Contempt  and  benign
neglect of the fate of civilians were widespread
among the army. Violence was not an extreme
but a commonplace and legitimate tool. Brutal
methods  were  just  techniques.  Through  the
different regimes – colonial, Japanese occupa-
tion, ‘Guided Democracy’ and ‘New Order’–,
some  recurrent  practices  were  selected  and
assembled into a corpus of routine practices. 

Such methods never faced significant criti-
cism  from  foreign  governments.43 Human
rights issues were relegated to a position of sec-
ondary importance. Political priorities for for-
eign  leaders  were  rooted  in  the  Cold  War
agenda; then in the 1990s Indonesia became a
model of economic growth. In the late 1990s, as

37 Leon Jones, op. cit., p.10.
38 Freek Colombijn and Thomas Lindblad (eds.), and Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit. 
39 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.230.
40 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.172.
41 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.233.
42 Quoted in Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.227.
43 On the contrary, they occasionally benefited from external support. Hence, in 1965-66, the CIA provided a list of PKI members to the
Indonesian military. 

15

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

separatist or communal conflicts were numer-
ous in Indonesia, preserving the unity of the
country was a priority, as several foreign gov-
ernments considered that this was crucial to
the stability of South-east Asia. 

In  the  1990s,  implementing  such  tech-
niques in Timor or in Aceh could be perceived
as ‘business as usual’. Resorting to these prac-
tices  was  not  questioned  as  a  principle,
although its scope and length of implementa-
tion varied.44 Even if individuals in the army
had qualms about these practices, if they raised
objections  they  would  have  to  oppose  peer
pressure  supported  by  an  official  counter-
insurgency doctrine and renounce their career.
Officers  in  Timor  or  in  Aceh  who  operated
along  these  principles  were  often  promoted
faster. Under the ‘New Order’ regime, the mili-
tary  was  influential  enough  to  be  protected
from  significant  criticism  originating  from
civilian figures. When international criticism
eventually appeared in the late 1980s, it did not
have a significant impact on the Indonesian
army. Training of officers, the use of repressive
measures,  peer  pressure  within  the  military
and the alleged efficiency of violent repression
all combined to favour the recurrent use of bru-
tal practices. In 1988, a first call for Indonesia
to  withdraw  from  Timor  was  issued  by  the
European Parliament; the US Congress then
expressed for the first time its ‘deep concerns’
regarding  the  human  rights  situation  in
Timor; in 1989, the Pope visited Timor, draw-
ing attention to the human rights record of the
Indonesian army. As illustrated by the case of
Aceh, this did not prevent this usual approach
from being extended to another region facing
‘security disturbances’. Terror became institu-
tionalised,  and  abiding  by  its  principles  was
basically conformist behaviour for members of
the army.45

Under the ‘New Order’ regime, ‘shock ther-
apy’ was regarded as an effective response to a
conflict, without any room of manoeuvre for a

negotiated approach. No matter how a situa-
tion might evolve locally, it would remain the
most favoured option of the powerful military.
Wider  support  for  a  separatist  agenda  could
grow in Aceh without the military questioning
this repressive policy.

2.4 The tortuous road to 
negotiations: a by-product of 
changes in Indonesia

In 1997, a financial crisis took place in Thai-
land.  It  spread  through  the  whole  of  South-
East Asia. Although Indonesia was until then
considered by the International Financial Insti-
tutions as a model of development, its financial
system was close to collapse. Simmering ten-
sions  gradually  led  to  protest  movements
against the ‘New Order’ regime. Unlike previ-
ous confrontations, President Suharto and his
regime were in a weaker position to crush this.
If the regime now pursued open and large-scale
repression,  it  was  unlikely  to  secure  foreign
financial  aid.  Furthermore,  since  the  mid-
1980s, dissent was growing in the military. In
1996, during an army internal seminar, nepo-
tism  and  corruption  were  debated  and  criti-
cised. A group of reform-minded officers was
gaining  more  influence  within  the  military.
Retired prominent generals and the Speaker of
the Parliament called the army to restrain itself
in its repressive approach, as it was weakening
its support among the Indonesian population.
Various  factions  were  vying  for  power,  while
Suharto was trying to curtail the influence of
rival factions by appointing officers according
to their personal loyalty to him. A parallel chain
of command became reinforced: connections
to the Presidency were challenging the official
hierarchy  and  the  corporate  interests  of  the
army. This intensified dissatisfaction among

44 In 25 years of conflict in Timor, 200,000 people were killed out of a total population of 900,000 Timorese. The violence in Aceh, in 15
years, led 10,000 people to be killed out of a population of 4 million.
45 Cf. Richard Tanter, ‘The Totalitarian Ambition: Intelligence Organizations and the Indonesian State’, in Arief Budiman (ed.), State and
Civil Society in Indonesia (Clayton, Victoria: Monash Papers on South East Asia, n°22, 1990).

16

Pierre-Antoine Braud

the military and reinforced the factional rival-
ries.46 In 1998, mass demonstrations occurred,
contesting the economic failure of the Suharto
regime  and  its  authoritarian  rule.  This  time
around, internal rivalries within the military
and  the  security  apparatus  hindered  all-out
repression. Conversely, various factions within
the regime used the mass demonstrations as an
instrument  to  compel  Suharto  to  resign  in
May 1998.

After  the  fall  of  Suharto,  power  struggles
intensified in Jakarta and became a key priority
for the inner circles. Like other formerly signif-
icant issues, the Aceh situation was relegated to
a position of secondary importance. Reducing
the terror strategy or maintaining it was occa-
sionally a tool in the power struggle among the
inner circles, either within the military or in
military-civilian  relations.47 In  this  context,
policies in Aceh had lost their previous cohe-
sion; terror strategy could be criticised and con-
tained, then resumed. Negotiations could be
pursued  and  their  implementation  under-
mined.  However,  power  struggles  in  Jakarta
maintained a de facto, but precarious, check and
balance  among  the  various  factions.  In  the
wake of these rivalries, human rights investiga-
tions were occasionally launched to weaken or
sack senior officers.48 The media were granted
greater freedom in 1999 and gave extensive cov-
erage to this issue, while NGOs were increas-
ingly active. These various elements coalesced
to maintain criticisms against the methods of
the military, and undermined its legitimacy as a
‘guardian of the nation’. It participated in alter-
ing the power balance and put the army on the
defensive for the first time.49

As a consequence of these various dynamics,
policies  implemented  in  Aceh  seemed  con-

fused.  Neither  repression  nor  negotiation
became  the  sole  policy  pursued  by  Jakarta
under Presidents Habibie (May 1998-October
1999),  Wahid  (October  1999-July  2001),
Megawati  (July  2001-September  2004)  and
Yudhoyono (since September 2004).

In August 1998, three months after the fall
of Suharto, the Minister of Defence and head of
the  army,  General  Wiranto,  issued  a  public
statement,  in  which  he  apologised  to  the
Acehnese population for the abuses they had
suffered. He announced a withdrawal of troops
and the end of the Military Operations Area.
This apparent turning point was mainly related
to his rivalry with the head of Special Forces
and son-in-law of Suharto, General Prabowo. It
underlined  the  role  of  Special  Forces  in  the
abuse of the population; the army propaganda
focused on ‘past mistakes’ of ‘certain officers’.
Wiranto  thus  appeared  as  a  reform-minded
officer. In his attempt to enlarge his power base
within the army, he then needed the support of
‘reformist’ officers.50

In September 1998, a withdrawal ceremony
of  Special  Forces  was  interrupted,  as  stones
were thrown at the troops. This incident may
have been engineered by a youth organisation
close to the Special Forces. It triggered riots and
destruction  of  government  properties  and
buildings, as well as premises of non-Acehnese
businessmen. Accumulated resentment could
turn  a  local  incident  into  a  demonstration
against state representatives and institutions.
Moreover, actual or alleged collaborators of the
security forces were targeted and faced violent
reprisals.51 Withdrawal of troops was stopped
and  reinforcements  were  sent  in.  Repressive
methods  were  maintained  and  justified  by
renewed skirmishes with GAM combatants.

46 Henk Schulte Nordholt, op. cit., pp.75 and 81, Salim Said, ‘Suharto’s Armed Forces. Building a Power Base in New Order Indonesia’,
Asian Survey, vol.38, no. 6, June 1998.
47 Cf. Terence Lee, ‘The Nature and Future of Civil-Military Relations in Indonesia’, Asian Survey, vol. 40, no. 4, July-August 2000.
48 This tactic was already used by Suharto in the 90s. In November 1991, two rival generals were sacked after the shooting of demonstrators
in  Timor.  In  December  1993,  he  established  a  National  Human  Rights  Commission.  In  accordance  with  post-Cold  War  international
principles, such a measure was mainly a tool in the factional rivalry among senior officers. Henk Schulte Nordholt, op. cit., p.66.
49 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.231.
50 Jun Honna, op. cit., pp.165-167.
51 Geoffrey Robinson, op. cit., p.230.

17

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

By January 1999, Wiranto had secured his
position within the military. His alliance with
‘reformist’ officers was abandoned. While the
latter were willing to redirect the armed forces’
priorities towards maritime defence and not
internal security, the Wiranto faction wanted
to  rebuild  the  cohesion  of  the  army  around
them. Internal security was still an entrenched
approach and commanded a significant con-
sensus  among  the  military.  In  May  1999,  a
seminar of the army reiterated that internal
security  was  the  priority  of  the  Indonesian
Armed Forces. Formerly sidelined by Wiranto,
officers  with  an  intelligence  and  counter-
insurgency background were promoted. Offi-
cers who had been involved in brutal repres-
sion in Eastern Timor were appointed to key
positions.52

While the army took up repression again as
part of its usual approach to ‘security distur-
bances’, a delegation of Acehnese leaders went
to  Jakarta  and  met  President  Habibie.  They
offered a statement that Aceh would remain
part of Indonesia, while requesting the prose-
cution of human rights abuses, the release of
political  prisoners  and  a  special  autonomy.
Although  this  offer  was  turned  down  by  the
military and the Parliament, President Habibie
visited Aceh two months later and made com-
mitments  to  improve  the  situation.  In  an
attempt to enlarge his political base, he initi-
ated various laws on local governance. Powers
of  local  governments  were  increased;  it  was
agreed that a percentage of the exploitation of
natural  resources  would  be  returned  to  each
province. In the case of Aceh, this represented
30%  derived  from  natural  gas,  80%  from  its
forestry,  mining  and  fishing  industries.  An
additional law revived the Acehnese ‘special sta-
tus’. However, this legislation did not satisfy
Acehnese  demands,  while  the  fact  that  the
regime had previously reneged on agreements
rendered  the  Acehnese  sceptical  about  its
actual implementation. 

Moreover,  Habibie  announced  a  referen-
dum  on  self-determination  in  Timor  and
stated that Aceh could also benefit from such a
measure, before then going back on his word.
Both as a reaction to military repression and
this 
reneged  commitment  by  Habibie,
Acehnese human rights and students associa-
tions launched a campaign in favour of a refer-
endum and large-scale human rights investiga-
tions. They organised successful and non-vio-
lent  mass  mobilisations,  which  maintained
Aceh high on the agenda of Indonesian politics.
The  balance  of  power  in  Jakarta  impeded
Indonesian officials from negotiating with this
popular and non-violent movement in order to
sideline GAM. In the second half of 1999, Habi-
bie was weakened enough to need the support
of the army and its head, General. Wiranto.53
The  military  identified  the  pro-referendum
in  Aceh  with  GAM  activities,
campaign 
although the latter was suspicious towards it.
Repression against the leaders and members of
the civilian movement ensued. This movement
got  caught  in  resumed  skirmishes  opposing
GAM and the army. GAM attacked soldiers and
police officers, while the army attacked villages
suspected of harbouring GAM combatants.

After Habibie was defeated in the October
1999  elections,  the  newly  elected  President,
Abdurrahman Wahid, wanted to establish his
influence over the army. He thus undermined
General Wiranto by launching investigations
into human rights abuses. This issue was now
in the spotlight. In January 2000, a Commis-
sion of Inquiry on Timor incriminated General
Wiranto and five other generals. In February,
Wiranto had to resign. As a consequence of this
change in the power balance, ‘reformist’ offi-
cers  regained  influence  and  benefited  from
Wahid’s  support.54 Willing  to  appear  as  a
peacemaker  and  facing  less  opposition  from
the military central command, Wahid was then
in position to launch the first direct negotia-
tions between Jakarta and GAM. Facilitated by

52 Jun Honna, op. cit., pp.173-175.
53 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.176.
54 Jun Honna, op. cit., p.182.

18

Pierre-Antoine Braud

the  Geneva-based  Centre  for  Humanitarian
Dialogue,55 a first agreement was signed in May
2000. It focused on a ‘humanitarian pause’ in
order to ease dialogue between the parties. This
potential breakthrough in favour of negotia-
tions  failed.  Attacks  by  either  sides  on  the
ground  did  not  halt.  Moreover,  Wahid  got
embroiled in conflicts with the Parliament and
the military. The Parliament stalled adoption
of a new specific status for Aceh, as it was sup-
ported by Wahid.56 His attempt to control the
military  by  appointing  officers  loyal  to  him
backfired. Officers in favour of prioritising on
internal security re-established their power and
undermined  Wahid  by  supporting  his  vice-
president – and rival –, Megawati. In April 2001,
Wahid adopted a six points policy for Aceh. A
negotiated approach was not revoked, but in its
sixth  point,  President  Wahid  authorised  the
‘Operation for the Restoration of Security’, as a
concession  to  the  military.  Once  more,  this
operation aimed at eradicating GAM. In 2001,
1,300 people were killed in Aceh, twice more
than in 2000.

In July 2001, President Wahid had to resign.
President Megawati, his former vice-president,
shared the ‘unitary approach’ of the military.
More troops were sent to Aceh; incidents and
casualties intensified. However, negotiations in
Geneva were not interrupted and a presidential
decree on special autonomy was signed, but was
not followed by concrete implementation.57

GAM  lost  part  of  the  territories  it  con-
trolled, but maintained a force of 1,000 armed
combatants. Even if some its military leaders
on the ground were killed, its flexible, perhaps
even weak, chain of command did not affect its
capacities.58 In December 2002, the Centre for
Humanitarian Dialogue brokered a new agree-

ment. It included cessation of hostilities, an all-
inclusive  dialogue,  local  elections  scheduled
for 2004, confidence-building measures, and
joint monitoring teams under a Joint Security
Committee composed of GAM and Indonesian
officers. In April 2003, monitoring teams of the
JSC  were  withdrawn  from  Banda  Aceh,  as
protests  were  organised  against  them  and
arson  destroyed  another  one.  In  May  2003,
martial  law  was  imposed  in  Aceh  and  major
military operations resumed. GAM was once
more  weakened,  without  being  fully  eradi-
cated. Its supply lines were significantly dis-
rupted.

When Susilo Yudhoyono defeated Megawati
in the September 2004 elections, a new change
occurred. A retired General, Yudhoyono used to
be close to the ‘reformist’ faction of the military.
As a former Minister for Political, Social and
Security Affairs, he also dealt with the Acehnese
issue  by  promoting 
‘substantive  negotia-
tions’.59 He was then considered as an ‘architect
of  a  more  conciliatory  approach’.60 His  vice-
president entered into informal negotiations
with GAM representatives in September 2004.
In spite of temporary interruptions stemming
from  rivalries  among  Acehnese  figures,  the
talks  were  favoured  by  several  combined  ele-
ments: GAM was militarily weakened and its
leadership was facing criticism from the inside
(among other reasons, for its use of GAM taxes,
and limited international attention being paid
to its cause);61 past attempts at negotiations
facilitating its acceptance by the military; and
increased international attention in the wake of
the tsunami of December 2004. Furthermore,
since the Bali bombings in 2002, the terrorist
threat of Jemaah Islamiya has become a major
issue  for  the  Indonesian  security  forces.

55 This mediation was financially supported by EU Commission, UNDP and USAID.
56 Drafted by the Acehnese provincial assembly, it included provisions to implement Islamic law in Aceh, 80% of revenues over natural
resources accruing to the Acehnese provincial body and allowed use of Acehnese cultural symbols. 
57 Jacques Bertrand, op. cit., p.182.
58 Angel Rabasa and John Haseman, op. cit., p.101.
59 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: Escalating Tension’, Asia Briefing, n°4, December 2000.
60 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: Why Military Force Won’t Bring Lasting Peace’, Asia Report, n°17, June 2001.
61 International Crisis Group, ‘Aceh: A New Chance for Peace’, Asia Briefing, n°40, August 2005.

19

Dynamics of conflict in Aceh: a recurring deadlock

Addressing such a threat provides a new legit-
imisation for the Indonesia army that is con-
gruent with its internal security priority, as well
as preserving the influence of the military in
Indonesian  politics.  The  importance  of  the
Aceh  issue  has  thus  been  balanced  by  this
emerging threat.

This new context facilitated further negotia-
tions, which benefited from previous attempts
to  frame  the  architecture  of  an  agreement
between  the  Government  of  Indonesia  and
GAM. In January 2005, a round of new talks
began in Helsinki. Martti Ahtisaari, the former
President of Finland, led the mediation team.
His Crisis Management Initiative team studied
the previous agreements, their weaknesses and
the already agreed principles. They consulted
figures who were involved in previous negotia-
tions.  By  building  on  previous  agreements
while overcoming their weaknesses, the media-
tion team succeeded in brokering an agreement

after five rounds of negotiations.62 On August
15,  2005,  a  Memorandum  of  Understanding
was signed in Helsinki. It covered the governing
of Aceh (including a law on the governing of
Aceh,  political  participation,  economy,  and
rule of law), human rights, amnesty and reinte-
gration  into  society  for  former  combatants,
security  arrangements,  the  establishment  of
the Aceh Monitoring Mission, and dispute set-
tlement.63

However, as with past agreements, its imple-
mentation  relies  on  an  efficient  monitoring
mechanism to overcome the accumulated mis-
trust of the Acehnese towards Jakarta. In this
perspective, the credibility and efficiency of the
Aceh Monitoring Mission has been as impor-
tant  as  the  agreement  to  stabilise  Aceh
province. Unlike previous attempts to bring an
end to the conflict, a significant international
player was associated with the implementation
of the agreement.

62 Financial support for the negotiations were provided by the European Commission Rapid Reaction Mechanism, and by the Dutch and
Finnish governments.
63 For the entire text of the Memorandum of Understanding, cf. www.cmi.fi/files/Aceh_MoU.pdf

20

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards 
integrated crisis management

Giovanni Grevi

Peace talks between the Indonesian Govern-

ment and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM)
started on 27-29 January 2005, triggered by the
humanitarian emergency and consequent mobil-
isation  following  the  tsunami  disaster,  by  a
favourable domestic political conjuncture and by
the authoritative personal involvement of former
Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari through his
Crisis  Management  Initiative.  Following  three
rounds  of  negotiation  in  February,  April  and
May, the parties came to an agreement on the con-
tent  of  the  Memorandum  of  Understanding
(MoU) at their fourth meeting on 12-17 July. 

The Crisis Management Initiative conducted
the peace process autonomously from EU struc-
tures and actors although, as reported below,
the Commission provided funding for the pur-
suit of the negotiations. As the end of the talks
approached, however, the question of monitor-
ing the peace agreement came to the forefront.
The hard lessons learned from previous failures
to sustain peace in the region – most recently
with the breach of the ‘Cessation of Hostility
Agreement’  in  May  2003  –  made  it  crucial  to
identify a credible international partner to over-
see the respect of the agreements. This was a par-
ticularly  sensitive  matter  for  the  Indonesian
government. The memory of the events in East
Timor, where the intervention of the UN and the
internationalisation of the crisis were perceived
as the factors responsible for the loss of that
province, was still fresh. At the same time, the
contingent of observers had to be strong enough
to be credible, and backed by political will. The
attribution of the monitoring mission to neigh-
bouring countries under the ASEAN umbrella
was also politically sensitive.

The European Union was the top candidate
for the job, in partnership with ASEAN nations.
Following  contacts  between  President  Ahti-
saari and HR/SG Javier Solana, and with the
consent of the conflicting parties, the EU sent
an ‘assessment mission’ to Aceh at the end of
June.1 At that early stage, EU officials encoun-
tered difficulties in carrying out fully-fledged
planning because the terms of the agreement
were kept secret and not disclosed until the offi-
cial  signature  on  15  August.  Uncomfortable
with not being involved in a process likely to
lead to a European commitment on the ground,
officials from the Council and the Commission
went to Helsinki at the time of the last round of
talks in mid-July, where they met some of the
participants in the negotiations without actu-
ally taking part in meetings. The EU was also
briefed on the state of play through informal
meetings with the representatives of the Crisis
Management Initiative in Brussels. 

On 18 July, the General Affairs and External
Relations Council (GAERC) sent a positive but
cautious message concerning the possibility of a
European  deployment  in  Aceh.  The  Council
took note of the report of the ‘assessment mis-
sion’ and welcomed the successful conclusion,
the day before, of the Helsinki negotiations. It
‘agreed that the EU was prepared, in principle, to
provide observers to monitor implementation
of the MoU’ and ‘asked the competent bodies to
continue  planning  for  a  possible  monitoring
mission  (…)  and  to  establish  contact  with
ASEAN.’2 Within the competent bodies, notably
the  Political  and  Security  Committee  (PSC),
there was little enthusiasm for the launch of the
envisaged  operation.  While  some  countries,

1 This was in effect an early fact-finding mission but it was not called as such in order not to raise sensitivities in Indonesian circles, at a
time when the peace deal was not yet closed.
2 Council Press Release 10813/05.

3

21

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

such as Finland, Sweden, the Netherlands and
France,  pushed  for  EU  engagement,  a  ‘silent
majority’ around the table conveyed the feeling
that many Member States did not see the Aceh
mission as a priority. 

It was to be the first ESDP (European Secu-
rity  and  Defence  Policy)  mission  in  Asia,  at
10,000 km from home, in a region that most
Europeans,  with  the  exception  of  the  Dutch,
knew very little about. Some felt that the Union
would do better to concentrate its efforts closer
to  home,  notably  in  the  stabilisation  of  the
Balkans and in bringing order to Europe’s back-
yard  in  sub-Saharan  Africa  and  in  the  neigh-
bourhood at large, tackling the urgent problems
of  migration  and  organised  crime  stemming
from  these  areas.  The  British  Presidency,  ini-
tially  not  keen  on  the  mission,  subsequently
took a more positive stance, aligning itself with
the Nordics and France. The mission in Aceh
was regarded as potentially beneficial in various
respects.  First,  it  would  demonstrate  that,
notwithstanding the rejection of the Constitu-
tional  Treaty  and  the  budgetary  stalemate,
ESDP was still up on its feet and able to deliver.3
Second, a mission in Indonesia would match the
vision  of  those  who  regarded  the  Union  as  a
global player, not limited to stabilising its neigh-
bourhood but nurturing more ambitious goals.
Third, the mission would offer a test case for the
functioning of the ESDP machinery for civil cri-
sis management, and in particular of the newly
established CivMil Cell. In addition, with a view
to events on the ground, it was quite clear that
the absence of credible and impartial monitors
would lead to a breakdown of the peace agree-
ment and the resumption of hostilities.

From  mid-July  onwards,  developments
unfolded  along  two  parallel,  though  closely
related,  strands.  Brussels-based  institutional
actors tackled the sensitive political, legal and
budgetary  profiles  of  the  envisaged  mission,

while teams on the ground paved the way for the
deployment of the mission on 15 September.
Following the GAERC conclusions on 18 July, it
became  obvious  that  the  European  Union’s
complicated and cumbersome procedures and
budgetary  processes  would  not  allow  for  the
deployment  of  a  fully-fledged  AMM  on  15
August, when the MoU would be signed. At the
same  time,  it  was  apparent  that  any  vacuum
between 15 August and the launch of AMM on
15 September could be potentially dangerous to
the peace agreement. With this in mind, officials
from the Council Secretariat and Commission,
with  participation  of  the  Crisis  Management
Initiative, drew up a concept for an EU Initial
Monitoring  Presence  (IMP)  to  cover  the  gap.
The concept was noted by PSC on 29 July. 

The  simultaneous  pursuit  of  the  two
processes immediately strikes the observer as an
anomaly in EU crisis management. A clear polit-
ical mandate by the Council was missing. Yet
progress on the ground quickly outpaced labori-
ous  negotiations  in  Brussels,  somewhat  pre-
empting them. The early identification of the
Head of Mission designate of the AMM (also the
Head of the IMP), who was the Deputy Director
General for ESDP and Operations in the Coun-
cil Secretariat – the Dutchman Peter Feith – was
key to bringing the two strands together. Also,
the Head of the Technical Assessment Mission
(TAM), who subsequently became the Chief of
Staff of IMP and AMM itself, was a senior and
experienced official from the Secretariat’s Civil-
ian  Crisis  Management  Directorate.  This  not
only achieved continuity but also allowed for
intimate knowledge of the EU’s procedures and
intricacies. This was essential for launching the
mission at such short notice.4 For the sake of
clarity of presentation, progress on the ground
and negotiations in Brussels are described sepa-
rately in what follows. 

3 According to Quentin Peel, ‘As for the EU, it may be a small war in a distant place but success would demonstrate the effectiveness of its
common foreign policy, precisely when so many have been writing it off as a failure.’ Financial Times, 18 August 2005. 
4 This secondment of Council Secretariat personnel to key positions in the IMP and AMM was in itself highly unusual but followed the
successful precedent of the Iraq Expert Team that was established in November 2004. The Iraq Expert Team was in many ways the first ‘Crisis
Response Team’ deployed by the EU. The success of both the Iraq and Aceh experiences shows that the Council Secretariat needs the flexibility
and personnel to deploy officials in crisis management, in conjunction with officials from the Member States and the Commission. 

22

Giovanni Grevi

3.1 Progress on the ground

On 1 and 2 August, planners from the EU and
Association  of  Southeast  Asian  Nations
(ASEAN) met in Jakarta in order to clarify the
respective tasks, in the context of the joint man-
date received from the (yet to be signed) MoU. It
was agreed that the EU would take the lead and
that  ASEAN  would  appoint  the  Principal
Deputy Head of Mission. Of the 220 or so moni-
tors, 120 would be from EU Member States. It
was agreed that monitors from the EU and from
ASEAN would operate jointly in mixed teams.
The  five  ASEAN  countries  (Brunei,  Malaysia,
Philippines,  Singapore  and  Thailand)  also
agreed to participate in the Initial Monitoring
Presence. Officials from the Council Secretariat
(DG E IX), the CivMil Cell and the Commission,
along with the EU Presidency, took part in this
early  meeting,  following  which  a  Technical
Assessment  Mission  (TAM)  was  immediately
deployed to Aceh, including personnel from EU
bodies but also from Member States, ASEAN
and the Crisis Management Initiative. 

Mandated with preparing the ground for the
monitoring mission, the TAM ended up playing
a very influential role out of sheer necessity and
due to time pressure. Once in Aceh, it became
the planning team and launch vehicle for the
IMP on 15 August. On the ground, it was espe-
cially clear that there was a need to consolidate
the achievements of the peace deal by building
confidence and avoiding a boycott of the entire
process. Devoid of EU procedural constraints
for the IMP (in that it was without a Council
mandate), the small TAM nevertheless drew up
the necessary papers for the successful, safe and
effective deployment of the IMP in twelve days.
This included building on the concept noted by
PSC,  an  Operations  Order,  Operations  Plan,
Deployment  Plan,  Safety  and  Security  Plan,

Instructions  to  Monitors  and  a  training  pro-
gramme for incoming monitors. Exceptionally,
the concept of operations (CONOPS) for the
AMM itself was drafted on the spot and sent to
Brussels  for  discussion  and  finalisation.  The
TAM had to get involved in more mundane busi-
ness  too,  such  as  hotel  reservations  and  car
rentals required to establish the first nucleus of
the mission. This proved particularly compli-
cated in a region with poor infrastructure, still
far from recovery from the tsunami catastrophe.
A wide range of international actors, already on
the ground to focus on the humanitarian and
reconstruction  efforts,  had  already  monopo-
lised the few available logistical means.5 More-
over, expectations amongst the locals were fast
raising.  The  very  considerable  media  interest
generated pressure to define a coherent message
and a media strategy.  

Following the preparation of the mission in
the first half of the month, HR/SG Javier Solana
was  in  the  position  to  declare,  on  15  August
2005, that ‘the European Union now envisages,
together with five ASEAN states, the deployment
of a monitoring mission in Aceh on 15 Septem-
ber.’6 The five ASEAN countries involved in the
mission included Brunei, Malaysia, the Philip-
pines, Singapore and Thailand. The EU Council
Secretariat also announced that an initial moni-
toring presence (IMP) would be deployed on the
very  same  day,  numbering  50  monitors  from
both the EU and ASEAN, with a view to ‘con-
tributing to confidence building amongst the
population of Aceh during the early stage of the
implementation of MoU.’7

The immediate deployment of the IMP was
crucial to ensure that the mission per se could
effectively start on 15 September. Expectations
were high and there was an urgency to demon-
strate tangible support to a peace process whose
pace was accelerating. The Indonesian Govern-
ment amnestied the GAM fighters on 30 August.

5 It is telling that the small team which was deployed at the beginning of August started work in a hotel, eventually renting a private house
as  the  IMP  headquarters.  The  Headquarters  of  the  AMM  would  eventually  be  located  in  a  building  on  the  campus  of  Banda  Aceh
University.  
6 Council document S279/05, 15 August 2005. 
7 EU Council Secretariat Fact Sheet ACH/00 (initial), 15 August 2005.

23

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

As a result, many of the GAM fighters were ready
and  willing  to  demobilise  and  decommission
their weapons well before the start of the AMM,
with a view to receiving in exchange the integra-
tion package promised by the government. 

The establishment of the IMP was not with-
out its problems. The process of force genera-
tion went very well, with a surprisingly swift,
extensive  and  high-quality  response  to  the
Council Secretariat’s hurried call for tender. The
same could not be said, however, of funds. Dur-
ing the first part of August, it was not at all clear
how the mission would eventually be financed
(see next section). Pragmatic, temporary solu-
tions had to be – and were – invented on the spot,
rather  than  face  not  being  able  to  proceed.
Members of the IMP were asked, for example, to
bring with them 7,000 euros in cash in order to
be  able  to  cover  their  own  expenses:  some
brought  their  own  money,  and  even  paid  for
their own flight. At the same time, a simple bank
account  was  opened  in  Banda  Aceh  and  the
spontaneous contributions of Member States to
support the early stages of the IMP were warmly
encouraged. At this ‘pioneering’ stage, the size-
able contribution both in kind and in cash of
Sweden proved decisive in providing vital logis-
tics. The British Presidency and Finland made
substantial cash contributions. Thanks to this
last minute ‘fix’, the IMP could start working.
And it did, effectively. 

Among other tasks, which included confi-
dence  building  and  investigating  two  serious
breaches of the MoU that occurred before 15
September, the IMP looked after the organisa-
tion of adequate training for EU and ASEAN
monitors upon their arrival between 10 and 12
September. IMP members could capitalise on
their  short  but  intensive  experience  on  the
ground to address all relevant topics, including
modules  on  the  political,  cultural  and  social
background of the province; on the Indonesian
army and police, GAM, and the administrative
framework in Aceh; and more technical sessions

on  weapons  decommissioning  and  human
rights monitoring. Both senior monitors from
the IMP and Indonesian experts were involved in
the  teaching.  The  overall  assessment  of  the
training phase was very positive: it was recog-
nised that had a robust IMP not been in place, it
would have been difficult to set up a training
course of comparable quality, tailor made for
the environment and the goals of the mission.

3.2 Negotiations in Brussels: 
money matters

Setting up a mission at short notice, in the space
of a few weeks during the summer break, was
never going to be easy. Aware of the risk that the
necessarily fast rhythm of decision-making in
Brussels could outpace national capitals at that
particular period of the year, the Council Secre-
tariat  prepared  a  precise  roadmap  including
meetings of the PSC, CIVCOM and the group of
RELEX Counsellors. Informed of the intensive
summer agenda, capitals stayed on board. A cell
was set up by the Council Secretariat to oversee
and support the launch of the different stages of
the mission over the month of August, from the
TAM to the IMP up to the launch of AMM in
September. In particular, the British Presidency
insisted that the CivMil Cell should be put in
charge of planning. Since, however, the CivMil
Cell was yet to reach its full working capacity, a
practical  solution  was  found  which  entailed
cooperation between the CivMil Cell and DG E
IX responsible for Civilian crisis Management.8
On the very same day (18 July) of the Council
conclusions paving the way for the EU involve-
ment in Aceh, the Commission’s External Rela-
tions  Directorate  General  finalised  a  ground-
breaking proposal for financing the mission.9 The
contribution was presented the following day to
the PSC and led to a bitter confrontation between
the legal service of the Council and the Commis-

8 The Aceh support team was headed by a senior official of DG E IX of the Council Secretariat and included another official from the DG
E IX, as well as two officials from the newly constituted Civil Military Cell within the Military staff: one civilian and one military officer.
9 The paper, cautiously presented as an ‘Information Note’, was not an official Commission position but reflected ‘work in progress by
Commission services and guidance from the Commissioner for External Relations.’

24

Giovanni Grevi

sion.10 Because of the broader, long-term implica-
tions of the divergence between EU institutions,
and Member States, with regard to the financing
of the AMM, it is worth describing the terms of the
dispute in some detail. The Commission’s docu-
ment made the following points and suggestions:

(cid:90) The Tsunami Indicative Programme makes an explicit
link between Community development assistance and
the peaceful solution of the Aceh conflict.

(cid:90) The Commission is ready to align support delivered
through Community instruments with the agreed polit-
ical framework arrived at under CFSP and is ready to
ensure  that,  at  the  operational  level,  Community
action is guided by the strategic direction and political
control of the PSC.

(cid:90) The Commission cannot legally finance those parts of
the  mission  that  are  of  a  military  nature,  such  as
weapons’ decommissioning. 

(cid:90) The first part of the AMM would be financed by the
Rapid Reaction Mechanism (RRM) from an amount
of 3 million euros. The rest of the funding would be pro-
vided by the Asia and Latin America programme. 

(cid:90) The Commission would finance the mission through a
grant to a framework Member State, after addressing a
call for proposals to all Member States and selecting
among those countries that have expressed interest to
become the ‘framework’ Member State. Proposals sub-
mitted to the Commission would notably include the
Crisis Management Concept, the CONOPS and a doc-
ument corresponding to the OPLAN. 

(cid:90) The salaries of the staff would be borne by Member
States. The budget would cover per diems and travel
expenses, salaries of local staff, costs of rent of premises
and all necessary equipment. Flexible and accelerated
procurement procedures could be envisaged. 

(cid:90) The PSC would receive mission reports and provide
overall political guidance. There would be parallel oper-

ational reporting to the Commission and the Council by
the framework Member State. Only significant amend-
ments to the original plan and budget would have to be
submitted to the Commission for approval. 

(cid:90) The framework country could propose the Head of Mis-
sion. Alternatively, the framework country could pro-
pose a Head of Operations in charge of daily manage-
ment and contractual reporting to the Commission.
The Head of Mission would be appointed by the Coun-
cil, with a primarily political function.

(cid:90) The mission would be presented as an ‘EU’ mission
with no distinction between ESDP and EC elements.
The Commission would need to be associated to public
statements, and its input ensured in the follow up of the
mission. 

It is not surprising that the Commission’s
paper triggered considerable debate. The ques-
tion of financing ESDP operations is directly
related to the exercise of political control and
strategic direction on the mission itself. This is
the reason why some Member States felt that,
had its proposal been accepted, the Commis-
sion  would  have  acquired  excessive  political
influence on the running of the operation. After
a first tour de table in the PSC on 19 July, the
decision was taken to address the subject in the
subsequent  meeting  on  26  July.  In  between
those two dates, the Council Legal Service sub-
mitted its opinion on the proposal of the Com-
mission, and rejected it on legal, budgetary and
political/institutional  grounds.  From  a  legal
standpoint, it was argued that the RRM and the
ALA programme could not finance a crisis man-
agement operation pertaining to CFSP objec-
tives,  and  not  those  of  the  EC.  The  proposal
would also infringe budgetary rules, whereby a
monitoring mission would clearly fall within
the remit of Title V TEU. According to Art. 28.3
TEU, the ‘Operating expenditure to which the
implementation [of the provisions relating to
the areas referred to in Title V] gives rise shall
also be charged to the budget of the European

10 This is all the more interesting in the light of the fact that the Commission proposal had been drafted in close cooperation with senior
officials from other services in the Council Secretariat. 

25

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

Communities’ except for the funding of opera-
tions with military or defence implications and
cases where the Council unanimously decides
otherwise. Within the Community budget, it is
the CFSP chapter that is supposed to finance
ESDP civilian missions.11

From a budgetary perspective, the Council
legal service felt that funding from the RRM was
not  required,  since  the  CFSP  budget  could
finance the 3 million euros required for the first
stage of the AMM with the unspent budget from
other  missions.  In  political  and  institutional
terms, the legal service interpreted the Commis-
sion proposal as a take over bid for the mission
chain of command, affecting the PSC’s preroga-
tive of political control. The legal service feared
that the arrangement suggested by the Commis-
sion could set a precedent, allowing the Commis-
sion  to  implement  actions  in  the  domain  of
ESDP  and  leading  over  time  to  the  loss  of
national control over civilian crisis management. 
The  proposal  of  the  Commission  and  the
opinion of the Council’s legal service became the
two poles of reference of subsequent discussions
at  the  RELEX  Counsellors’  group  and  at  the
PSC. The RELEX Counsellors submitted vari-
ous financing options, including full financing
from  the  CFSP  budget  (which  would  have
required  complicated  procedures  to  allocate
additional  funding),  partial  financing  from
Member States in addition to the CFSP budget,
negotiations with the European Parliament to
obtain  an  increase  of  the  CFSP  budget,  and
direct contributions made by Member States in
place of the CFSP budget. In the course of the
RELEX  discussion,  several  delegations  sup-
ported the Commission’s proposal, while others
opposed it. Yet another option envisaged that
the  scope  (and  budget)  of  the  AMM  mission
could be narrowed down by extrapolating from
the  mandate  those  measures  that  could  fall
within the Community competence.

With the TAM due to be launched within the
space of a few days, the PSC could not reach agree-

ment. But the sense of urgency was growing, and
new ‘emergency’ options were considered, such as
testing the ground with third parties (non Mem-
ber States) with a view to receiving contributions
in kind. Mention was also made of the need to
flank the AMM with Community measures. The
idea  of  slicing  the  mandate  of  the  AMM  was
rejected, yet the complementarity of the mission
with EC programmes was consistently stressed. 
At  the  end  of  July,  it  still  was  not  clear
whether the EU would be in the position to fulfil
its (half) commitment to launch a monitoring
mission  in  Aceh.  A  considerable  number  of
Member States were at best lukewarm as to the
merits of the mission. Very few at Brussels head-
quarters knew much about the real situation on
the  ground,  it  was  unclear  where  the  money
could come from and, for that matter, no serious
estimation of costs had been carried out yet. In
this context, ‘constructive improvisation’ was
the only chance to break the deadlock. A team of
three Council officials was requested to deliver
almost overnight a financial assessment of the
mission. The team, drawing from previous expe-
rience, delivered rough ‘political figures’ for an
overall  amount  of  13  million  euros.12 It  was
foreseen that some money could be made avail-
able from budget surpluses from other ESDP
missions, but that sum was difficult to quantify.
Short  of  money  and  confronted  with  the
reluctance of a number of countries to engage in
Indonesia,  but  resolved  to  enhance  the  EU’s
image of a trusted global player and to fulfil the
informal commitment entered into with Presi-
dent Ahtisaari, Javier Solana addressed the PSC
on  26  July.  That  session  marked  the  turning
point  in  the  history  of  the  AMM:  basically,
Solana stated that the EU had to deploy the mis-
sion  and  that  a  solution  had  been  found  to
finance it from the CFSP budget: details were to
be provided at a later stage. This assertive inter-
vention of the High Representative tilted the
balance in favour of launching the mission and
using the CFSP budget: the Commission’s pro-

11 For a more precise description of the budgetary arrangements concerning CFSP, see the Inter-institutional Agreement of 6 May 1999,
OJ 1999/C 172/01. 
12 Considering that, as illustrated below, the final budget amounts to 15 million euros, the team should be credited with a pretty good
approximation at such an early stage. 

26

Giovanni Grevi

posal was definitively abandoned, in favour of
drawing on the CFSP budget.

The picture, however, looked rather different
when  the  moment  came  to  establishing  the
financial  statement  of  the  mission.  Out  of  a
total budget of about 15 million euros, the CFSP
line could cover no more than 9. The rest had to
be provided by ‘willing and able’ Member States
on the basis of a ‘costs lie where they fall’ basis.
This  was  an  unconventional  principle  in  the
domain of EU civilian crisis management: there
was no clear idea of how it would work. In the
end, seven Member States offered contributions
in kind for an overall amount of around 5 mil-
lion  euros,  while  1  million  euros  came  from
bilateral contributions of non-member coun-
tries,  notably  Norway  and  Switzerland  who
deployed three monitors each. Sweden was by
far the most committed of EU countries, deliv-
ering over 4 million euros’ worth of logistical
support and equipment.13 Interestingly, in the
run up to the adoption of the Joint Action in
early  September,  no  less  than  ten  countries
made clear that the peculiar solution consisting
of bilateral contributions to finance an ESDP
civilian  mission  did  not  set  a  precedent.  The
solution resided rather in an in-depth discus-
sion on how to increase the budget allocated to
CFSP within the overall EC budget. 

3.3 The mandate and the 
structure of AMM

A demanding mandate
The mandate of the AMM, outlined in the Coun-
cil  Joint  Action  adopted  on  9  September,  is  a
demanding one.14 The sensitivity of the mission
cannot be fully grasped unless the mandate is
read in conjunction with the Memorandum of
Understanding signed on 15 August by the Gov-
ernment of Indonesia and the representatives of
GAM. The AMM is an integral part and, in many

ways, the lynchpin of a wider political process set
in  motion  by  the  peace  agreement.  The  MoU
requires that a new Law on the Governing of Aceh
enter into force not later than 31 March 2006,
envisaging wide margins of autonomy for the
region. That law will set the framework for the
elections in April 2006 of the Head of the Aceh
administration and other officials. 

In addition, the Government of Indonesia
has agreed to facilitate the legitimisation of the
two Aceh-based political parties which meet the
national criteria and, in a significant political
breakthrough,  local  political  parties  in  Aceh.
The GAM gave up its historic objective of inde-
pendence in return for inclusion in the political
process. Needless to say, this transition requires
time and is paved with obstacles. In addition, a
Human Rights Court is to be established for
Aceh, as well as a Commission for Truth and
Reconciliation tasked with formulating recon-
ciliation measures. In the context of what might
be defined as ‘local government building’, the
AMM plays a vital role for building confidence
and encouraging dialogue between the parties.
In short, in parallel to the active political dia-
logue between the Indonesian Government and
the EU and ASEAN, it is up to the AMM to guar-
antee an enabling environment on the ground.
The mandate outlined in the Joint Action15
reflects almost literally the tasks entrusted to
the AMM by the MoU, namely: 

(cid:90) Monitoring the demobilisation of GAM

(cid:90) Monitoring and assisting with the decommissioning
and  destruction  of  its  weapons,  ammunition  and
explosives

(cid:90) Monitoring  the  relocation  of  non-organic  military

forces and non-organic police troops

(cid:90) Monitoring the reintegration of active GAM members

13 Other countries included Belgium, Finland, Ireland, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and the UK. 
14 Council Joint Action 2005/643/CFSP, 9 September 2005. OJ L 234/13.
15 See Joint Action 2005/643/CFSP, Art. 2. 

27

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

(cid:90) Monitoring the human rights situation and provide
assistance in this field in the context of the tasks listed
above

(cid:90) Monitoring the process of legislation change

(cid:90) Ruling on disputed amnesty cases

(cid:90) Investigating and ruling on complaints and alleged vio-

lations of the MoU

(cid:90) Establishing and maintaining liaison and good cooper-

ation with the parties

The  one  change  introduced  in  the  Joint
Action with respect to the MoU consists of the
limitation of the scope of human rights moni-
toring to the implementation of the key tasks of
the AMM (monitoring demobilisation, decom-
missioning, relocation and reintegration). For
the rest, measured against initial expectations,
the mandate of the mission broadened as the
terms  of  the  peace  agreement  became  more
clear and reliable information was collected in
Aceh to inform the debate in Brussels. Initially,
it was envisaged that the EU would be responsi-
ble for monitoring only. It soon became clear,
however, that the mission’s remit would need to
extend  to  weapons’  decommissioning:  GAM
fighters  wanted  a  reliable  third  party  to  be
involved,  as  they  refused  to  surrender  their
weapons  to  the  Indonesian  forces.  Taking
charge of decommissioning required that the
mission  be  equipped  with  tools  to  destroy
weapons, and be manned by monitors with a
military expertise. 

Of even greater sensitivity was the involve-
ment of the AMM in the monitoring of human
rights and in the political process at large. While
some  Member  States  insisted  that  proactive
human rights monitoring had to be a central
feature  of  the  mission,  a  compromise  was
achieved whereby the key tasks would consist of
monitoring decommissioning and relocation.
With fewer weapons in circulation, the security
situation would inevitably improve and it would
be easier for the parties to engage in the peace
process. In other words, the approach was to

build  confidence  through  concrete,  tangible
achievements and only then get more directly
involved  with  the  political  dimension  of  the
peace  process.  After  some  hesitation,  it  was
agreed that the security of the monitors would
be assured by the Indonesian forces.

The structure of the AMM
The AMM has been organised in such a way as to
ensure both a capillary presence on the ground
and  mobility  across  the  region  to  ensure  the
implementation of the MoU. The Head of Mis-
sion is assisted by three deputies: the principal
deputy is a Thai General, while the other two
come from the EU, respectively Finnish and Ital-
ian. Likewise, the Chief of Staff is European but
his deputy is from the Philippines. More gener-
ally, all the departments and units belonging to
the Headquarters are led by an EU national, with
a deputy from ASEAN. This repartition of the
leading posts shows both the respective com-
mitments and the good cooperation between
EU and ASEAN.

The Headquarters includes four advisers to
the Head of Mission (a political adviser, a legal
adviser, a special adviser and one responsible for
liaison with the EU Presidency). The most size-
able department is the operation department,
where a Reporting and Analysis Cell has been set
up.  The  ‘Decommissioning  component’,  the
Press  and  Information  Office,  the  Security
Office, the Medical Cell (one doctor from Singa-
pore) as well as supporting services (administra-
tion, finance, procurement, accounting, logis-
tics) are also located at the Headquarters, giving
a total staff of 57. 

ASEAN team leaders head 6 of the 11 decen-
tralised District Offices, each of them with 11
monitors. On the other hand, there is a predom-
inance  of  EU  personnel  in  the  four  mobile
decommissioning teams, each of which has 9
monitors. A team from the Swedish Rescue Ser-
vices Agency supports the whole mission, and
has played a vital role in getting the mission off
the ground in the first place. Total AMM staff
amounts to 231, including seven with an inter-
national contract. 

28

Giovanni Grevi

3.4 The EU presence and 
activity on the ground

The AMM was deployed in an area with a very
high density of international presence, follow-
ing the unprecedented damage inflicted by the
tsunami in December 2004. In this context, the
European Union has taken the lead in the relief
effort and can legitimately claim to uphold to its
reputation of main world provider of humani-
tarian assistance and development aid. Since the
tsunami struck on 26 December 2004, the EU
and its Member States have mobilised up to 1.5
billion euros. In particular, on the EU side, 123
million  euros  were  allocated  to  immediate
humanitarian  assistance  to  all  countries
affected by the disaster, and 207 million euros
were made available under the ALA programme
and the RRM to support the long-term recon-
struction  of  Aceh.16 The  Indonesian  Multi
Donor Trust Fund is co-chaired by the Head of
the Indonesian Post-Tsunami Reconstruction
Agency, the World Bank and the Commission
itself,  in  recognition  of  its  prominent  role  in
providing aid.

With a more specific reference to the peace
process in Aceh, the Commission had supported
attempts to reach a stable ceasefire well before
the natural catastrophe occurred. A co-chair of
the Tokyo Preparatory Conference for Peace and
Reconstruction in Aceh in December 2002, the
Commission financed the monitoring mission
led by the Henry Dunant Centre for Humanitar-
ian Dialogue, which failed to prevent the out-
break of hostilities in May 2003. 

In March 2005, the Commission gave around
220,000 euros from the RRM in support of a

project directed at involving local stakeholders
and civil society in the drafting of the Master
Plan for the recovery of Aceh. The consultation
and involvement of civil society in the otherwise
centralised  preparation  of  the  plan  appeared
‘even more essential when seen against the back-
drop of the long-standing conflict in Aceh, with
a new round of peace talks recently initiated.’17
A month later, the Commission provided addi-
tional funding under the RRM, with a 270,000
euro ceiling, to the Crisis Management Initiative
conducting the peace talks.18 On 29 July, almost
simultaneously to the launch of the Technical
Assessment Mission (to which a Commission
official  was  associated),  the  Commission
released a new 30 million euros contribution to
support the first long-term projects for the reha-
bilitation and reconstruction of the province. In
addition  to  rebuilding  houses,  public  infra-
structures and helping to restart the economy,
the package was directed to strengthening the
capacity of the new Reconstruction Agency as
well as the local government. It was acknowl-
edged  that  this  project  ‘should  also  facilitate
later arrangements for self-government in Aceh,
since a peace agreement has now been reached in
Helsinki.’19

In this context, regardless of Brussels quib-
bles over financing, the Commission’s efforts
and the AMM mandate can only be regarded as
complementary and mutually reinforcing. This
is even more the case because of the ethnic, polit-
ical and religious cleavages crossing the region.
The fair and equitable treatment of the different
areas and groups is a priority in order to avoid a
disruption of peace down the line. In particular,
the right balance has to be struck between the
aid provided to the coastal population, most hit

16 On the European response to the tsunami disaster, and the reflection that it triggered, see in particular the Council doc. 5788/05, 28
January 2005 (EU Action Plan); the Commission’s Communication on Reinforcing EU Disaster and Crisis Response in Third Countries,
COM52005) 153 final, 20 April 2005; the Commission’s Press Release IP/05/490, 27 April 2005, ‘More aid on the way for Tsunami
victims’; the Tsunami Indicative Programme adopted by the Commission on 23 May 2005, C(2005)1490; and the Progress Report on The
European Commission’s Response to the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 26 December 2004 and Reinforcing EU Disaster and Crisis Response
in Third Countries, 18 November 2005.
17 See the Commission’s Information Note RE A4 REG PA (05) D/505992. The project included the setting up of ten working groups and
the presentation of the resulting working paper to the National Development Planning Agency. 
18 See the Commission’s Information Note RELEX/A4 REG PA (05) D/508248
19 Commission, IP/05/1025. 

29

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

by the tsunami, and to the population of the
mainland,  which  suffered  the  most  from  the
civil war. EU action must be clearly and perceiv-
ably directed at building the future of the entire
region, and not of one particular area or social
component.20

Coordination  and  cooperation  among  EU
institutions and bodies are working well on the
ground. The Head of Mission and the Head of
the Commission Delegation in Jakarta, as well
as their advisors, meet regularly. It is envisaged
that the Commission Delegation hosts regular
meetings between the EU and other donors and
becomes involved in meetings with the Head of
Mission where the political aspects of the Aceh
peace process are addressed. Furthermore, the
antenna opened by the Commission Delegation
in Banda Aceh – Europa House – and the AMM
officials work in daily contact.21 The quality and
scope of cooperation can be detected by looking
at the main issues falling within the remit of the
AMM.

Reintegration
On  1  September,  the  Commission  proposed
mobilising the RRM by investing 4 million euros
to  assist  the  2,000  GAM  detainees  due  to  be
released and the 3,000 GAM fighters to be demo-
bilised, according to what was foreseen by the
MoU. It was understood that this initial effort
was to be followed by a wider reintegration pro-
gramme, so as to provide a visible ‘peace-divi-
dend’ and ensure the long-term viability of the

political  process.22 However,  only  part  of  the
original  Commission’s  proposal  was  actually
implemented: EU funding has so far been allo-
cated to former prisoners only. The Government
of Indonesia has decided to take charge of the ini-
tial phases of the reintegration of former-com-
batants. In so doing, the Indonesian authorities
wanted to show their commitment to the peace
process and get political credit out of that.  

The challenge of reintegration is possibly the
hardest  confronting  the  EU  efforts  to  make
peace viable.23 It is not only a matter of dispens-
ing money in small instalments: it is a question
of allocating land and housing, ensuring physi-
cal security and an enabling environment of eco-
nomic prosperity, making healthcare available
and organising professional training or re-train-
ing.24 The response of the Indonesian authori-
ties to these daunting needs is of questionable
effectiveness, with a confused division of roles
and responsibilities between central and local
authorities and inconsistent procedures applied.
Lack of reliable information on where to locate
the beneficiaries of reintegration packages poses
another problem, with former fighters uneasy
with providing personal details to the authori-
ties. In particular, it is not always clear who are
the ‘affected civilians’ entitled to support. 

The Commission emphasised the coordina-
tion of its initiatives with AMM. EC measures
are prepared in close cooperation with the mis-
sion. In parallel to EC funding, for example, the
AMM has carried out over 500 interviews with
former prisoners across the entire region. These

20 NGO officials repeatedly stressed the interplay between reconstruction efforts and initiatives to put an end to the conflict in Aceh. The
two sets of measures were regarded as strengthening each other. Without a safe environment in which to operate, on the contrary, the
delivery of aid was seriously undermined. See for example ‘Tâche titanesque, la reconstruction d’Atjeh est une chance pour la paix’, Le
Monde, 24 August 2005.  
21 Europa House is not only responsible for liaising with the AMM but also for establishing direct, permanent contacts with local officials.
In addition, Europa House looks after the coherent management of post-Tsunami assistance and offers a platform to officials from Member
States on mission: only France and Germany have opened a bureau in Banda Aceh.
22 Commission’s Information Note, RELEX/D(2005) 518845. According to the Commission’s plan, GAM detainees and fighters would
receive immediate assistance at points of release or demobilisation. Former GAM members would receive a minimal subsistence cash
allowance of 600 euros each to help them and their families – a total of 25,000 people – to go back to their villages. In addition, funding
would  be  provided  to  establish  a  demobilisation  database  and  to  launch  a  communications  and  outreach  programme  to  foster
reconciliation and outline the perspectives for peace. The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) would implement the programme.
23 ‘Without an adequate support system, observers warn that restless ex-GAM fighters could become a thorn in Aceh’s side.’ The Christian
Science Monitor, 19 September 2005.
24 The EU is not the only provider of aid to reintegration on the ground. Other institutions and countries include the World Bank, USAID,
UNDP, UNICEF and Japan. 

30

Giovanni Grevi

interviews enabled the monitors to gain a much
better  understanding  of  the  perspectives  and
priorities of the recipients of aid, as the basis for
fine-tuning financial support.25 The AMM has
expressed  an  overall  positive  assessment  of
developments on the ground together with con-
cerns that lack of information on the next stages
of reintegration might lead to frustration and a
loss of confidence in the process. 

Law on the governing of Aceh
The Memorandum of Understanding envisaged
that all the constitutive elements of the future
autonomy status of Aceh be included in the Law
on the Governing of Aceh. If adopted in time for
the April 2006 elections, the law is going to be
the cornerstone of a sustainable peace process,
covering not only the division of competences
between national and local authorities, the sepa-
ration of power within Aceh and the establish-
ment of its borders and symbols, but also the key
provisions on the establishment of local politi-
cal parties and on the nomination of candidates
to top local executive posts.

Drafting is pursued at both the national and
the regional level in a coordinated way, under
the supervision of the Ministry of the Interior.26
All options will be subsumed in a consolidated
draft text to be submitted by the Ministry of the
Interior to the national Parliament by the end of
December, with a view to adoption by the end of
March.  The  exercise  is  proceeding  rather
smoothly  through  wide  consultations  (some
tensions may stem from the attempt of Islamic
religious  leaders  to  introduce  Islamic  law  in
Aceh). GAM is fully committed to the process
and sees the law as the main dividend of peace
and the guarantee of future self-government. It
is vital that GAM is enabled by the new provi-
sions to evolve into a local political actor, and to

integrate in the governing structures. For this to
happen, it is crucial that the law is adopted in
time for the local elections next year, which are
scheduled to be held shortly after the expiry of
the AMM mandate. 

Cooperation  between  the  AMM  and  the
Commission is vital to outline a credible follow
up strategy to the mission itself and to keep the
peace process going. At the time of writing, the
Commission  is  finalising  a  comprehensive
package of measures to be submitted to Member
States in the course of November. The package is
directed to supporting the implementation of
the MoU and the consolidation of the political
process.  The  measures  envisaged  include  a
major communication campaign to make peo-
ple aware of the content of the MoU, help with
the  organisation  of  the  local  elections  in
April 2006, as well as capacity building to set up
viable police forces, a trusted judicial system and
effective public administration as a whole.

Human rights
The human rights situation in Aceh shows signs
of improvement, with the AMM playing an irre-
placeable role, slowly consolidating the rule of
law. During the first month since the launch of
the mission, however, two major human rights
violations have occurred, both consisting of an
excess  of  force  on  the  part  of  Indonesian
forces.27 Both former GAM members and the
civilian population are the subject of extortion,
intimidation,  harassment  by  the  Indonesian
army and police or by isolated gangs of GAM
members beyond the control of their leadership. 
Confidence in the rule of law and the effective
pursuit of criminal offences by Indonesian forces
is still low, but the overall situation is improving
by all standards. Thanks to the distributions of
district offices across the region, the AMM has

25 Interviews on the phone with AMM staff at mission headquarters and personnel of the Aceh Support Team in the Council Secretariat,
October/November 2005.
26 At  the  regional  level,  three  drafting  exercises  are  ongoing:  one  is  promoted  by  the  Governor  of  Aceh,  a  second  by  civil  society
organisations and a third by the regional parliament. Interviews, see note 25.
27 On the first occasion, a GAM member was shot dead by the police. The second episode saw the army shooting and wounding a former
GAM member. Interviews, see note 25. 

31

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

engaged in daily dialogue with civilian and mili-
tary authorities at local level to raise awareness of
international standards of human rights protec-
tion and of best police practice. Capacity build-
ing in this direction is also part of the Commis-
sion’s above-mentioned proposals. Civilians are
showing more willingness to come forward and
denounce abuses, although that is a slow process.
AMM officials proactively investigate the inci-
dents that are brought to their attention.28

Decommissioning and redeployment
The timetable of these two processes is closely
interlinked.  Understandably,  the  Indonesian
army  and  police  will  maintain  their  commit-
ment to disengage non-organic forces29 from
the region only on the condition that weapons’
decommissioning proceeds according to plan.
Both decommissioning and redeployment are
supposed to take place in four stages, three of
which have already been successfully completed
under AMM scrutiny. The Mobile Decommis-
sioning Teams of the mission play a crucial role
in supervising decommissioning and destroying
the  weapons  surrendered  by  GAM  fighters.
Risks of clashes remain, notably due to the trans-
fer of considerable stocks of weapons across the
region  and  to  the  loose  control  exercised  by
GAM  on  a  small  number  of  its  district  com-
manders, who are more or less openly reluctant
to abide by the MoU. So far, Indonesian forces

have  fulfilled  their  engagements  with  over
15,000 troops withdrawn by the end of October.
The third phase will start in mid-November.30

3.5 The AMM and EU civilian
crisis management: incremental
progress

Set  in  the  context  of  the  ongoing  efforts  to
strengthen the civilian crisis management capa-
bilities of the Union, the AMM seems to go in the
right direction. Emphasis on the ability of the
Union to deploy a wide toolbox to address crisis
management  is  central  to  the  European  dis-
course. Civilian capabilities are in short supply
yet in growing demand worldwide: the Union is
a  candidate  to  become  the  main  security
provider in its neighbourhood and beyond. 

Monitoring under ESDP
Following the early definition of the four basic
areas for the development of civilian capabilities
– police, rule of law, civil administration and
civil protection – at the European Council in
Feira in June 2000, Member States pledged per-
sonnel and resources and the Union has since
undertaken six civilian crisis management oper-
ations  up  to  August  2005.31 In  parallel  to

28 It is encouraging that, at the national level, the Indonesian Parliament has ratified two basic UN instruments for the protection of human
rights: the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.
National legislation will have to be amended accordingly, which cannot but benefit the human rights situation in Aceh over the medium
term. 
29 Within the Indonesian military structure, non-organic forces are those that are not deployed on a regular basis in a given region. Non-
organic troops, such as the Special Forces, are dispatched when a conflict situation escalates to a degree that cannot be handled by
‘organic’,  territorial  units.  For  a  detailed  report  of  the  military  movements  related  to  the  conflict  in  Aceh  since  1998  see  ‘Security
Disorders’, Inside Indonesia, January-March 2003, available at www.insideindonesia.org 
30 Consideration should also be given to the ‘quality’ of the forces withdrawn from Aceh. While the redeployment of special forces has
started ahead of the schedule originally proposed by the Indonesian Army, it is likely that intelligence units will remain on the ground till
the end of the year. Interviews, see note 25.
31 Feira European Council, 19-20 June 2000, Presidency Conclusions. ESDP civilian crisis management operations include the Police
Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina (EUPM), launched in January 2003 (Joint Action 2002/210/CFSP); the Police Mission in FYROM
(EUPOL Proxima) in December 2003 (Joint Action 2003/681/CFSP); the Rule of Law mission in Georgia (EUJUST Themis) in July 2004
(Joint  Action  2004/253/CFSP);  the  Police  Mission  in  DRC  (EUPOL  Kinshasa)  in  April  2005  (Joint  Action  2004/847/CFSP)  and  the
integrated Rule of Law mission for Iraq (EUJUST LEX) in July 2005 (Joint Action 2005/190/CFSP). The action launched to support the
efforts of the African Union with its intervention in Darfur – AMIS II – also has a civilian component. It was launched in July 2005 (Joint
Action 2005/557/CFSP). ‘From Copenhagen to Brussels – European Defence: core documents’, Chaillot Paper 67, Volume IV, December
2003 and ‘EU security and defence – Core documents 2004’, Chaillot Paper 75, Volume V, February 2005.

32

Giovanni Grevi

progress in the field, the Union has produced
‘concepts’  that  frame  the  missions  to  be
launched under ESDP, defining in broad terms
their  scope,  principles  and  requirements.  By
their  very  nature,  these  concepts  tend  to  be
static, not really suited to a continuous updat-
ing according to lessons learnt from each mis-
sion. On the other hand concept papers are part
of  a  process  of  progressive  convergence  of
national views around the essential characteris-
tics of ESDP missions.

The EU adopted a Concept for EU Monitor-
ing  Missions  in  October  200332 according  to
which a monitoring mission’s primary activity
‘is to observe, monitor and report…on the gen-
eral political and security situation in the host
country or in relation to a specific agreement.’
Other tasks might include ‘contribution in con-
fidence building…low level conflict resolution
and de-escalation assistance, facilitating con-
tacts  between  civil  society  and  government
and/or disputants etc.’ EU monitoring missions
were also defined by referring to what they are
not: they do not have a coercive deterrent capac-
ity, do not have inspection authority and are not
involved in implementing programmes. Differ-
ent sorts of monitoring missions were envisaged
in the concept, depending on the phase of con-
flict at which they are deployed and on the spe-
cific  monitoring  tasks  including  ceasefires,
demobilisation  and  disarmament,  refugee
return, human rights etc. 

Moreover, it was made clear that a monitor-
ing mission ‘constitutes an integral part of an
overall EU effort to prevent or resolve a conflict.
There should be a clear coordination with other
EU actors and instruments in the same area.’
The rapid deployment of an ‘advance party’ with
a sort of fact-finding function was also envis-
aged to identify needs and prepare for procure-
ment. One year after the adoption of the con-
cept, in June 2004, the Action Plan for Civilian

Aspects of ESDP identified monitoring as one of
the  areas  where  the  EU  needs  to  develop  its
capacity further.33 As a result, monitoring was
pointed out as a new important area for EU civil-
ian crisis management at the Civilian Capabili-
ties  Commitment  Conference  in  November
2004.34 Member States declared that they would
commit 505 monitors to equip this arm of EU
crisis management. 

Assessed against the Concept for EU Moni-
toring  Missions  and  the  subsequent  steps
towards setting up a real monitoring capacity
for ESDP, the AMM measures up well to the out-
lined  objectives  and  expectations.  From  this
standpoint, three priorities can be extrapolated
from the landmark Action Plan and Capabilities
Conference of 2004, as well as from the docu-
ment  on  the  Civilian  Headline  Goal  200835
adopted by the European Council in December
2004: integrated crisis management, rapid reac-
tion and adequate financial resources. 

Integrated crisis management
Drawing  upon  the  full  range  of  instruments
available for crisis management – be they within
the toolbox of CFSP, Community competences
or Member States’ capabilities – is the key to con-
fronting  increasingly  complex  crisis  manage-
ment situations. A horizontal approach is advo-
cated to deploy multifunctional civilian crisis
management resources in an integrated format.
The AMM is a good example of a ‘complex’ mis-
sion where the breadth of the mandate required a
diverse expertise among the monitors, many of
whom  had  a  military  background  and  know-
how.  More  particularly,  the  2004  Action  Plan
envisaged that the Union should seek additional
expertise in areas ranging from human rights to
Security Sector Reform (SSR) and from Disar-
mament,  Demobilisation  and  Reintegration
(DDR), to mediation. Some of these are among

32 EU Doc., 14536/03, 28 October 2003.
33 Action Plan for Civilian Aspects of ESDP, adopted by the European Council, Brussels, 17-18 June 2004.
34 EU Doc., 14848/04, 22 November 2004, Civilian Capabilities Commitment Conference, Ministerial Declaration, Brussels.
35 EU Doc., 15863/04, 7 December 2004. 

33

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

the tasks that the AMM is mandated to oversee
and, in many cases, assist with. The high quality
of  the  numerous  national  candidates  that
responded  to  the  last-minute  call  from  the
Council Secretariat in August bodes well for the
ability of the Union to draw upon a wider pool of
expertise. It is worth noting that the AMM has
achieved some notable ‘firsts’ in terms of integra-
tion.  Not  only  is  it  a  viable  operation  with
ASEAN partners, but it has also brought mili-
tary, ex-military and civilians together to form a
credible and extremely efficient team. The EU
has successfully deployed human rights moni-
tors  alongside  Explosive  Ordnance  Disposal
experts,  which  constitutes  a  model  for  how
future ESDP operations could be conducted.

Concerning another important dimension
of the implementation of the Action Plan, one
could  argue  that  the  TAM  and,  as  of  the  15
August, the IMP went some way towards filling
the notion of Civilian Response Teams (CRT).36
Developed by the Council Secretariat in close
dialogue with the Commission, and upon the
strong initiative of some Member States includ-
ing Sweden, the concept of CRT responds to the
stated requirement to deploy multifunctional
civilian crisis management resources in an inte-
grated format. A CRT is a ‘rapid reaction capa-
bility  of  flexible  size  and  composition’  man-
dated to ‘carry out assessment and fact finding
missions  [and]  provide  input  to  the  develop-
ment of a crisis management concept’ before the
adoption  of  a  Joint  Action,  ‘establish  a  rapid
operational presence in the field’ after the adop-
tion of a Joint Action and provide ‘timely rein-
forcement of existing EU mechanisms for crisis
management’ in response to urgent needs. Leav-
ing aside the distinctive procedures envisaged to
establish the CRT, the launch of the AMM pro-
vided a sort of test case for the future implemen-
tation of the concept. The TAM and the IMP
provided tangible evidence of EU commitment
and enhanced the confidence of the parties in
the peace process, assessed the context and the
requirements for the launch of the mission and

made a decisive contribution to the elaboration
of the crisis management concept. 

The  2004  Action  Plan  also  acknowledged
that the ‘Community makes a substantial con-
tribution to civilian crisis management and its
instruments will continue to be a core element
in the EU’s response.’ As illustrated above, coop-
eration on the ground in Aceh is proceeding sat-
isfactorily,  with  a  particular  emphasis  on  the
long-term sustainability of the reintegration of
former fighters and prisoners and on support to
local  institutions  and  political  actors.  As
pointed out in the Action Plan, the added value
of the Community intervention lies primarily
(although not exclusively) in the continuity that
it provides to the measures adopted in the con-
text of ESDP missions. The progressive elabora-
tion of a follow up strategy to the AMM, whose
mandate  is  due  to  expire  on  15  March  2006,
seems set on the right path. 

The means for rapid reaction
The AMM was set up in the space of essentially
six weeks over the summer period, and the TAM
and IMP were deployed within only a few days:
this is no time by crisis management standards.
Contrary to what is duly envisaged for the future
CRT, however, the logistic support capacity was
sorely lacking. As reported, even accommoda-
tion and office facilities had to be sought in situ
by the team. Basic equipment such as computers
and  mobile  communication  was  provided  by
Member States on an ad hoc basis and in a rather
uncoordinated manner. 

With the Civil Military Cell yet to be fully in
place, a small team in the Council Secretariat
carried the burden of a hectic planning phase. In
this  connection,  one  should  go  back  to  the
shortcomings listed at the Civilian Capabilities
Commitment Conference at the end of 2004,
notably including ‘mission and planning sup-
port capability, adequate financing, the ability
of the EU to deploy at short notice, and procure-
ment.’ It was also urgent to address ‘arrange-

36 EU Doc., 10462/05, 23 June 2005.

34

Giovanni Grevi

ments and mechanisms in the areas of opera-
tional support, logistics, security of personnel
and mission protection.’37 These issues are at
the centre of the Civilian Headline Goal 2008.
Drawing  from  the  Aceh  experience,  a  lot  of
ground has arguably yet to be covered, although
the right priorities have been identified. 

Financial resources
The 2004 Action Plan recognised that ‘the level
of ambition for EU civilian crisis management
operations  require  the  strengthening  of  the
CFSP budget.’38 In the same vein, Javier Solana
reminded Heads of State and Government at
the Hampton Court informal summit that a
CFSP budget of at least 85 million euros would
be required next year simply to meet existing
commitments.39 The  fact  that  EU  CFSP
requires  more  money  to  deliver  is  widely
acknowledged by both Member States and EU
institutions, but solutions diverge as to how to
achieve this. 

In the course of the negotiations preceding
the launch of the AMM the Council legal service
restated  the  clear-cut  separation  between  the
CFSP budget line and EC funding. The argu-
ment of the legal service is backed by the key
provisions  under  EU  law  concerning  CFSP
funding.  As  recalled  above,  according  to  Art.
28.3 TEU, the CFSP budget covers the operating
expenditure stemming from the implementa-
tion of the provisions of TitleV, with the excep-
tion of ESDP military operations and of those

cases  where  the  Council  acting  unanimously
decides  otherwise.  Paragraph  H  of  the  1999
Inter-institutional Agreement explicitly states
that  ‘The  total  amount  of  operational  CFSP
expenditure  will  be  entered  entirely  in  one
budget  chapter  (CFSP).’40 It  follows  that  the
common costs of ESDP civilian crisis manage-
ment operations are borne by the CFSP budget,
whereas  Member  States  cover  the  salaries  of
their nationals. 

Some,  however,  argued  that  the  Council
legal service provided a rather restrictive inter-
pretation of these provisions. In its response to
the  Commission’s  proposal  concerning  the
funding of the AMM, the legal service asserted
that  the  EC  could  not  finance  civilian  crisis
management  operations  pursuing  objectives
that pertain to CFSP and not to the Commu-
nity. It added that the financing of a monitoring
mission clearly fell within the remit of CFSP
under TitleV and was therefore regulated by Art.
28 TEU. Surely, monitoring falls in the context
of CFSP/ESDP. 

Some of the objectives pursued by civil crisis
management operations, and monitoring mis-
sions in particular, however, are not dissimilar
from the objectives set for Community action by
a number of legal instruments.41 Reintegration
and  reconciliation,  for  example,  are  arguably
not exclusive objectives of CFSP, but respond to
the priorities set for the external action of the
Union  to  stabilise  post-crisis  situations.  This
seems notably the case when looking at the wide,
political mandate of the AMM. An intimate link

37 Op. cit. in note 34.
38 Op. cit. in note 33. For an early analysis of the debate surrounding the financing of ESDP operations, see Antonio Missiroli, ‘€uros for
ESDP: financing EU operations’, Occasional Paper 45, EUISS, June 2003.
39 Daniel Donbey, ‘Solana to stress strain on EU foreign Policy’, Financial Times, 27 October 2005. The 2005 CFSP budget amounts to only
62.5 million euros. Following the launch of two missions in the Palestinian Territories, the amount required to sustain the running costs is
closer  to  100  million  euros  which  is  the  amount  around  which  an  agreement  seems  to  have  been  reached  for  the  2006  budget.  The
missions  in  question  are  EUPOL  COPPS,  established  with  Joint  Action  13696/05,  14  November  2005  and  the  EU  Border  Assistance
Mission at Rafah Crossing Point (EU BAM Rafah), operational as of the opening of the Rafah crossing point on 25 November.
40 Op. cit. in note 11.
41 See  for  example  the  CARDS  Regulation,  (EC)  2666/2000,  5  December  2000,  whereby  the  Community  assistance  can  support
‘reconstruction, aid for the return of refugees and displaced persons and the stabilisation of the region’ as well as ‘the creation of an
institutional  and  legislative  framework  to  underpin  democracy,  rule  of  law  and  human  and  minority  rights,  reconciliation  and  the
consolidation of civil society, the independence of the media and the strengthening of the legality and of measures to combat organised
crime.’ (Article 2.2). See also the ‘Human Rights’ Regulation  (EC) 975/1999, 29 April 1999, according to which the Community can support
‘measures  to  promote  respect  for  human  rights  and  democratisation  by  preventing  conflict  and  dealing  with  its  consequences  [and]
measures facilitating the peaceful conciliation of group interests, in order to prevent conflict and restore civil peace.’ (Article 2.3).

35

The Aceh Monitoring Mission: towards integrated crisis management

exists between the fulfilment of the AMM man-
date and the establishment of a comprehensive
framework of flanking measures by the Com-
mission.

On the other hand, it would be questionable
to extend this line of argument as far as blurring
the distinction between Community interven-
tion and ESDP missions and, by implication,
between their budgets and lines of command.
ESDP civilian operations arguably present three
distinctive features: there is an important secu-
rity  dimension  to  EU  intervention,  Member
States wish to retain the strategic control and
political direction of the mission through the
Council structures, and the implementation of
the  mandate  requires  a  degree  of  political
authority and responsibility in engaging with
local actors that the Community cannot deliver. 
The debate on whether, where and how to
draw the line between action by the Community
and ESDP civilian operations in crisis situations
abroad goes beyond the scope of this paper. Var-
ious, and often divergent, arguments have been
deployed  by  the  relevant  institutional  actors,
and by Member States. It seems at the very least
important that decisions on these matters are
taken with a view to softening, and not harden-
ing,  the  separation  between  the  instruments
available  to  the  EU,  moving  beyond  institu-
tional jealousies.

3.6 Conclusion

With the AMM, the EU has taken yet another
step  on  the  path  towards  becoming  a  global
actor and security provider. It is important to
stress  once  again  that  the  EU,  in  association
with ASEAN, was the only body acceptable to all
parties  to  oversee  the  implementation  of  the
MoU. That is a telling recognition of the inter-
national credibility of EU intervention under
ESDP. Cooperation with ASEAN also provides

an additional demonstration of the determina-
tion of the Union to support regional organisa-
tions as effective partners in enhancing peace
and stability across the world, following the sig-
nificant but not entirely successful cooperation
with the African Union. This is an important,
tangible contribution to the concept of effective
multilateralism. 

Learning from past experiences, all EU actors
on the ground have done their best to establish
regular  and  constructive  cooperation  with  a
view to maximising the output of the AMM and
to prepare a sustainable perspective for peace
over  the  long  term,  although  much  will  of
course depend on the enduring commitment of
local parties. Lessons should be drawn from the
proactive and highly professional performance
of the AMM and of Commission officials with a
view to joining forces for new, more demanding
operations, such as those in Palestine and per-
haps Kosovo. 

At the same time, the success of the AMM
should be assessed with a more critical eye, and
put in perspective. The size and the financial
burden of the mission are modest, although not
negligible by ESDP standards. The difficulty in
launching the mission is a telling reminder of
the shortcomings undermining the long-term
sustainability of ESDP. Issues of financing, pro-
curement, logistical support and capabilities for
rapid deployment can no longer be avoided, as
acknowledged by the 2004 Action Plan and the
subsequent document on the Civilian Headline
Goal 2008. The envisaged establishment of CRT
and  progress  towards  a  comprehensive  plan-
ning process for ESDP missions go in the right
direction.  In  the  spirit  of  the  Constitutional
Treaty and of the European Security Strategy,
however, further steps should be envisaged to
more  effectively  mobilise  the  resources  and
capabilities  available  to  the  Union,  bridging
institutional  divides  while  preserving  the
respective  competences  and  prerogatives  of
national and European actors. 

36

Annex

Abbreviations

ALA

AMM

ASEAN

CFSP

CRT

CONOPS

EC

EU

ESDP

GAERC

GAM

IMP

MoU

OPLAN

PKI

PSC

RRM

SG/RH

TAM

TUE

Asia and Latin America (programme)

Aceh Monitoring Mission

Association of Southeast Asian Nations

Common Foreign and Security Policy

Civilian Response Teams

Concept of Operations

European Community

European Union

European Security and Defence Policy

General Affairs and External Relations Council

Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka)

Initial Monitoring Presence

Memorandum of Understanding 

Operation Plan

Indonesian Communist Party

Political and Security Committee

Rapid Reaction Mechanism

Secretary-General of the EU Council and High Representative for CFSP

Technical Assessment Mission

Treaty on European Union

a

37

Occasional Papers

All Occasional Papers
can be accessed via the institute’s website:
www.iss-eu.org

n° 60

n° 59

n° 58

n° 57

n° 56

n° 55

n° 54

n° 53

n° 52

n° 51

n° 50

n° 49

n° 48

n° 47

n° 46

n° 45

n° 44

The EU in Moldova – Settling conflicts in the neighbourhood
Nicu Popescu

L’évolution stratégique du Japon : un enjeu pour l’Union 
Régine Serra

L’Union et l’Afrique subsaharienne : quel partenariat ?
Roland Sourd

The democratic legitimacy of European Security and Defence Policy
Wolfgang Wagner

From America’s protégé to constructive European. Polish security
in the twenty-first century
Marcin Zaborowski

La gestion des crises en Afrique subsaharienne. Le rôle de l’Union
européenne (traduction et actualisation du nº 51)
Fernanda Faria

EU enlargement and armaments. Defence industries and markets of
the Visegrad countries 
Timo Behr and Albane Siwiecki; edited by Burkard Schmitt

Europe’s next shore: the Black Sea region after EU enlargement
Mustafa Aydin

Rethinking the Euro-Mediterranean political and security dialogue
Rosa Balfour

Crisis management in sub-Saharan Africa. The role of the European
Union
Fernanda Faria

For our eyes only? Shaping an intelligence community within the EU 
Björn Müller-Wille

EU cohesion in the UN General Assembly
Paul Luif

Space and security policy in Europe: Executive summary
Stefano Silvestri, Rapporteur

EU and Ukraine: a turning point in 2004?
Taras Kuzio

EU-Russian security dimensions
Edited by Dov Lynch

€uros for ESDP: financing EU operations
Antonio Missiroli

The Galileo satellite system and its security implications  
Gustav Lindström with Giovanni Gasparini

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