Unity has yielded to division as
the young nation faces a potentially volatile constitutional crisis
Last year, Timor Leste was held
up as a shining example of democratic progress after staging two successful
elections after years of volatile and often violent politics. But a
post-election constitutional crisis driven by political elite rivalries is
putting the young nation to a new crucial test.
Last July, Fretilin and the
National Congress of Timorese Reconstruction (CNRT), the country’s two largest
political parties, won a combined majority at the parliamentary poll. Fretilin
won 29.6% of the vote, accounting for 23 of the unicameral parliament’s 65
seats, while the CNRT ran a close second with 29.4% and 22 seats.
Many expected the two parties to
continue their informal power-sharing arrangement that began in 2015 when CNRT
chief and former independence leader Xanana Gusmao stepped down as prime
minister and chose a Fretilin minister as his successor.
At the time, both agreed to put
aside historical differences to form a “national unity” government, ushering in
two years of political stability.
But shortly after July’s election
CNRT announced it would not join Fretilin in a new coalition. This came as a
surprise to many, including Mari Alkatiri, Fretilin’s secretary-general, who
publicly predicted before the polls that the unity government would remain in
place.
CNRT’s move meant poll winner
Fretilin needed another ten seats to form a 33-seat majority government. But
only the Democratic Party agreed to join, taking Fretilin’s total seats up to
30, and the two announced they would form a minority government.
President Francisco Guterres, who
won election last March and serves as Fretilin’s president, accepted the
arrangement and Alkatiri was named prime minister.
But when parliament reconvened in
October, three opposition parties – CNRT, People’s Liberation Party (PLP) and
Khunto – decided to form what they called a “parliamentary majority alliance”,
provocatively the name given to another CNRT-backed coalition that took power
in 2007.
Together, the alliance holds a
35-seat majority in parliament. Days later, the minority government put forward
its political program in parliament, which was rejected by the opposition
coalition. Timor Leste’s constitution rules that if a government’s program is
rejected twice then the government should be dissolved.
The minority government refused
to hold parliamentary sessions during most of November and December, a move the
opposition called “unconstitutional” since the government is obligated to
resubmit its program to parliament within 30 days of it first being dismissed. In
response, Alkatiri said the opposition coalition was trying to orchestrate a
“coup.”
In December, the opposition
alliance again voted down the Fretilin-led government’s program, triggering a
constitutional crisis and another possible general election in the months ahead.
The causes behind the country’s
latest political crisis are debatable. It is not unusual for Timor Leste’s
political parties to fail to gain a majority in parliament, a situation usually
resolved by forming a majority alliance with other parties.
CNRT’s decision to stop backing a
“unity” government with Fretilin seemingly came out of the blue. Indeed, CNRT
publicly supported Fretilin’s presidential candidate, Guterres, only a few
months before the parliamentary polls.
Damien Kingsbury, professor of
international politics at Australia’s Deakin University, contends this is due
to recharged enmity between Alkatiri and Gusmao, the two parties’ chiefs. “What
Timor-Leste has witnessed is a clash of egos more than a clash of policy or
ideology,” he recently wrote.
During the 2006 crisis, where
intra-military dissent sparked widespread violence that forced then premier
Alkatiri to resign, many suspected Gusmao had a hand in the unrest. But the two
leaders’ mutual hostility lay dormant during the “unity” government.
Another explanation contends that
political elites thought Alkatiri’s desire for power came at the expense of the
national good. When Gusmao resigned as prime minister in 2015, he chose
Fretilin’s Rui Maria de Araujo to succeed him.
Araujo, in his fifties, was
supposed to represent a shift away from the older, independence-era leaders who
have dominated Timor Leste’s politics since independence from Indonesia was
achieved in 2002.
“Alkatiri…broke the understanding
he had with Gusmao that [the premiership] would be handed to a younger
politician,” Kingsbury wrote.
What happens next is anyone’s
guess. Now that the minority government has twice failed to pass its program in
parliament, Guterres must either call for new elections or ask another party to
try to form a government.
There are rumors that CNRT might
try to push its own attempt at governing with the support of its coalition
partners, ensuring a majority in parliament despite placing second at last
July’s election.
But most analysts expect Guterres
will call for a new election when parliament reconvenes later this month. Constitutionally,
parliament cannot be dissolved until January 22, or six months after the last
elections.
Due to various timing issues,
including the Easter holiday in the Catholic-majority nation, that could mean
the country is without a functioning government for at least five months.
The country currently does not
have a budget in place for 2018, which some suggest could precipitate a
financial crisis or paralyze the public sector. Until a new budget is passed
the state must stick to the 2017 budget, which is badly under-allocated.
Moreover, a lengthy political
vacuum could jeopardize the newly agreed bilateral treaty between Timor Leste
and Australia over maritime borders and ownership of vast off-shore energy
reserves. The treaty requires ratification later this year by Timor Leste’s parliament.
The new uncertainty has cast a
cloud over the country’s politics after fair, free and peaceful elections, the
first that did not require United Nations supervision. Voter turnout was around
75%, a clear sign Timorese have bought into democracy.
International monitoring groups,
meanwhile, recently ranked Timor Leste as Southeast Asia’s most democratic
nation.
Now, some fear a return of the
political violence last seen in 2006, a murderous outbreak that saw foreign
peacekeepers deployed to restore order. For others, it is another indication of
the dominance of fractious political elites that many thought and hoped was on
the wane.
The possible upcoming elections
are “unlikely to reflect the peace and harmony that characterized those of
2017,” Kingsbury predicted.
Yet when compared to events
elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the country’s current political crisis still looks
rather tame. So far there are no indications that that an unconstitutional
seizure of power is on the cards by either the government or opposition.
Alkatiri said late last year that
“while some dance in parliament, we shall dance on the streets,” a comment
interpreted as a threat to use street protests to counter the opposition
coalition’s rejection of its governing program.
Concerns of new violence were
eased somewhat when Lere Anan Timur, commander of Timor Leste’s defense force,
said he would not tolerate any groups that try to stir instability.
No major public protests have
been held, yet. And by most accounts the current constitutional crisis is
still likely to be solved legally rather than through force. While Timorese
voters may have to spend another day at the ballot box in the months ahead, it’s
a preferable scenario to new rounds of deadly duels in the streets.
Photo: 1 - Fretilin party
supporters participate in an election campaign rally in Dili, Timor Leste on
July 19, 2017. Photo: AFP/Valentino Dariel Sousa. 2 - Timor Leste President
Francisco Guterres casts his ballot during the presidential election in Dili,
March 20, 2017. Photo: Reuters/Lirio da Fonseca. 3 - Image manipulated by Timor
Agora on predictability of holding early elections 2018
