Bad Omens

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Javanese rulers have long gazed upon an eruption of Mount Merapi as an omen of troubled times ahead. So when the central Java volcano began sputtering and oozing lava early last week, many Indonesians recognized a portent of ill tidings for President Abdurrahman Wahid, the nearly blind 60-year-old Muslim cleric who has fitfully governed the country for the past 15 months.

Wahid didn't need a soothsayer to read the rumbles of Merapi: he only had to look as far as Jakarta's parliament for the source of his woes. While thousands of demonstrators—some for Wahid, but most against him—bellowed at one another under a torrential downpour, the scene inside parliament was solidly against the President. His opponents and fairweather political allies censured Wahid last Thursday for his alleged involvement in two corruption scandals, involving a total of more than $6 million. That may seem like small change compared with the billions that vanished from government coffers during the 32-year Suharto regime, but it was just the excuse that Wahid's growing legions of disillusioned parliamentarians needed to pounce on him.

In a carefully staged television interview, Wahid solemnly insisted: "All of the information about the two cases is absolutely not true." He added, "I'm not involved in anything." At least one influential viewer, however, remained unconvinced. Amien Rais, head of the People's Consultative Assembly, the upper house of parliament, told Time that Wahid must resign, saying: "He has trampled on his oath as a leader."

That rebuke is a possible first step in an impeachment process that could drag on for months. Wahid may be required to defend himself first in writing and then by enduring a public skewering from hostile legislators. Alternatively, the climax could come a lot sooner: Wahid's adversaries are trying to convene a special session of the People's Consultative Assembly, which has the power to oust him. Either way, Wahid could face political ruin unless he can quickly mend ties with parliament.

That won't be easy. Since Suharto's fall in 1998, Indonesia has been left with a political system in which it's unclear who holds more power: the President or parliament. Wahid believes he holds the trump card; parliament sees things differently. Wahid's style isn't helping his cause. Even close friends use words like "arrogant" and "disdainful" to describe his attitude, which may be traced partly to his upbringing. An Islamic scholar, fluent in five languages, Wahid descends from a line of Javanese holy men, and it is difficult to convince him that he is not infallible. Ever since Wahid became the country's first democratically elected President in three decades, he has shown a knack for picking fights. Says Taufik Abdullah, an expert on Indonesian history: "He has been making enemies from Day One, and I don't think it had to be this way." First, Wahid jeeringly referred to parliament as a "kindergarten"—and never apologized. Months later, he removed several ministers belonging to the three largest parties in his coalition government, without explaining why. Then, in May of last year when Wahid was first linked to the charges of corruption—the alleged embezzlement of $4.1 million from a state-run pension fund by his personal masseur and a claim that he made misleading declarations about a $2 million donation from the Sultan of Brunei that subsequently went missing—he haughtily tried to brush off the accusations.

In neither case has it been proven that Wahid pocketed the missing funds, but his refusal to kowtow before parliament has cost him. Says Nurcholish Majid, a respected Muslim scholar and long-time Wahid associate: "He doesn't believe he's done anything wrong, and he'll use whatever he has for his defense."

Wahid's options are narrowing fast. On Thursday, while parliament was voting 393 to 4 to censure him, Wahid at first tried relaxing to a tape recording of U.S. President Harry Truman's biography. "He identifies with Truman," says one palace insider. "Truman said his support came from the silent majority." But in Indonesia, the silent majority doesn't count nearly as much as the military. So Wahid hastily summoned his Defense Minister, his security adviser and the chiefs of the armed services for a meeting at the palace. The President discussed various options for maintaining order, including declaring martial law. Says Rais, the powerful head of the parliament's upper house: "The generals told Wahid: 'Are you crazy?'" They unanimously rejected that option, according to Rais, and Wahid broke up the meeting. The palace denies the exchange took place.

Whatever the truth, Wahid probably cannot count on the military to back him in his tussle. During the crucial Thursday vote, the 38 military and police delegates in parliament went along with the warning motion. The vote, say military analysts, indicates that the armed forces are growing impatient with Wahid. They criticize his indecisive handling of secessionst uprisings in Aceh and Irian Jaya and of the fighting between Muslims and Christians in the Maluku islands, which has claimed more than 4,000 lives in the past two years.

With or without close military support, Wahid also needs to woo back Megawati Sukarnoputri, his Vice President and leader of the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle. A populist and daughter of Sukarno, the country's first leader after independence, Megawati, 54, considers Wahid to be a longtime friend. She even whips up breakfast every Wednesday for him. The President insists that Megawati still supports him, but her party certainly does not. Diplomats in Jakarta say that her party satraps are not alone in telling Megawati she must turn against Wahid; the generals also are pledging their loyalty to her if she decides to let her party forge ahead with impeachment proceedings. As Vice President, she would step in to take Wahid's place.

As a fallback, Wahid may try to mobilize his Muslim supporters. His party ranks only fourth in parliament—behind both Megawati's group and Golkar, the former ruling party of Suharto—but as leader of Nahdlatul Ulama, the country's largest Muslim religious organization, Wahid can count on more than 40 million followers, mainly in Java. The clergymen within the organization are already preparing the faithful for Wahid's hard times. In mid-December, when Wahid's troubles were mounting, 40 clerics told their congregations they had all shared a prophetic dream: Wahid was sitting atop a coconut tree in a storm, but no matter how violently the tree swayed, he never fell. Aside from that small band of the faithful, however, nearly everybody else is gunning for the embattled President. Last week, the local power utility said the presidential palace owed a $425,000 electricity bill. Wahid is slugging away, but his arrears are piling up.