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Diversity, patronage and parties: parties and party system change in Indonesia Allen, Nathan Wallace 2012

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DIVERSITY, PATRONAGE AND PARTIES: PARTIES AND PARTY SYSTEM CHANGE IN INDONESIA by NATHAN WALLACE ALLEN  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY  in  THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Political Science)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)  December 2012 ©Nathan Wallace Allen, 2012  ii  Abstract The dissertation asks why some political systems have many parties and others only a few. Existing research on regime survival confirms that an excess of parties can generate regime instability. Because party systems affect key political outcomes, institutional engineers have sought to tweak electoral systems in order to produce favourable patterns of political competition. In particular, institutional designers in diverse states have attempted to curtail party system expansion by banning ethnically-based parties. Despite the growing popularity of such techniques, analysts know little about how these institutions work in practice. To address this issue, the dissertation explores a puzzle from the Indonesian case: the number of effective political parties in an electoral district strongly correlates with ethnic diversity, yet there is a de-facto prohibition of ethnic parties. Established theories linking ethnic diversity and party system size assume both the existence of ethnic parties and clear patterns of ethnic voting. However, neither one is present in the Indonesian case. The dissertation demonstrates that ethnic diversity has an indirect effect on party systems. It generates sub-national rent-seeking opportunities, a combination of high state involvement in the economy and weak constraints prohibiting the abuse of state resources for personal and political gain. In diverse electoral districts, the livelihoods of voters and elites are tightly linked to the control of the state. Elites have more opportunities to engage in rent-seeking behavior, affecting the way they participate in the political sphere. First, the opportunity to manipulate state resources draws elites into the electoral arena, increasing the number of viable candidates. Second, the intense focus on local goods distribution diminishes the value of national party platforms, allowing candidates to pursue political office under minor party labels. Third, voter demands for particularistic goods distribution lead them to disregard party labels and form tight patron-client linkages with candidates. The electoral consequence of these three phenomena is the expansion of the vote attained by minor parties, which act as vehicles of convenience for locally oriented rent-seeking networks. In high diversity / high rent electoral districts, the expansion of the vote attained by the minor parties fragments the party system.  iii  Table of Contents  Abstract.............................................................................................................................. ii Table of Contents ............................................................................................................. iii List of Tables ................................................................................................................... vii List of Figures................................................................................................................... ix Glossary ............................................................................................................................ xi Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................ xiii Chapter 1 - Introduction .................................................................................................. 1 The puzzle of party system size in Indonesia.............................................................................. 4 Theory ......................................................................................................................................... 6 Mechanism................................................................................................................................ 10 The importance of the Indonesian case..................................................................................... 11 Contributions............................................................................................................................. 13 Plan of dissertation.................................................................................................................... 14  Chapter 2 – Theory......................................................................................................... 16 Electoral fragmentation in Indonesia ........................................................................................ 16 Explaining electoral fragmentation: state of the literature ........................................................ 17 Electoral institutions ............................................................................................................................18 Social cleavages ...................................................................................................................................20 The interactive synthesis ......................................................................................................................22 Party aggregation .................................................................................................................................25  A theory of party system size across electoral districts ............................................................ 28 Defining rent opportunities ..................................................................................................................29 Rents and candidates strategies: entry, affiliation, and campaigns ......................................................31 Rent opportunities and party system size .............................................................................................35  Scope conditions and contributions .......................................................................................... 36 Rent sharing expectations ....................................................................................................................36 Ethnic parties and ethnic party bans.....................................................................................................38 Decentralization and sub-national power .............................................................................................39  Chapter 3 - Indonesia Background ............................................................................... 41 The origins of nationalist norms ............................................................................................... 41 Ethnicity in Indonesia ..........................................................................................................................42 The rise of Indonesian nationalism ......................................................................................................44  Indonesian political institutions ................................................................................................ 46 Executive-legislative structure .............................................................................................................46 Electoral systems and party laws .........................................................................................................51  Indonesian party system: past and present ................................................................................ 57  iv The partisan actors ...............................................................................................................................57 Parties and cleavage structure ..............................................................................................................61 Gotong Royong and the power sharing tradition ..................................................................................66  Rent opportunities and decentralization.................................................................................... 68 Decentralizing Indonesia......................................................................................................................69 Rent opportunities and ethnic diversity................................................................................................74 Diversity and rent opportunities: explaining the relationship ..............................................................79  Conclusion ................................................................................................................................ 85  Chapter 4 - Candidate Entry in Indonesia ................................................................... 87 Why enter? Existing explanations............................................................................................. 89 Empirical puzzle ..................................................................................................................................89 Approaches to entry .............................................................................................................................90 Ethnicity and entry ...............................................................................................................................92  Rent opportunities and entry ..................................................................................................... 94 Rents and diversity...............................................................................................................................94 Office benefits, party influence, and entry ...........................................................................................95  Case background: selecting candidates in Indonesia ................................................................ 97 Partisan context ....................................................................................................................................97 Campaigns and partisan influence .......................................................................................................98  Theory testing: entry across electoral districts........................................................................ 101 Ethnic diversity and entry ..................................................................................................................101 Rent opportunities and entry ..............................................................................................................106  Alternative explanations ......................................................................................................... 110 Communal voting...............................................................................................................................110 Strategic parties..................................................................................................................................111  Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 114  Chapter 5 - Patronage and Party Switching in Indonesia ........................................ 116 Party affiliation: existing explanations ................................................................................... 118 Party switching in the literature .........................................................................................................118 Affiliation and candidate goals: local vs. national strategies .............................................................119  Party affiliation and rent opportunities ................................................................................... 120 Local rent opportunities and career strategies: a party switching hypothesis ....................................121  Case background: selection processes in Indonesia................................................................ 122 Selection processes: the party’s view.................................................................................................122 Selection processes: the candidate’s view..........................................................................................125  A party affiliation dataset........................................................................................................ 129 Generating the dataset ........................................................................................................................129 Describing the data.............................................................................................................................131 Validity testing...................................................................................................................................132  Theory testing: career strategies across districts ..................................................................... 136 Hypothesis 1: number of switchers across districts............................................................................136 Hypothesis 2: number of loyalists across districts .............................................................................138 Hypothesis 3: relative proportion of switchers across districts ..........................................................138  v Alternative explanation: switching and ethnicity ...............................................................................141  Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 142  Chapter 6: Patronage, Ethnicity and the Personal Vote in Indonesia ..................... 144 Personal voting: existing explanations.................................................................................... 145 Defining the personal vote .................................................................................................................145 Explaining the personal vote ..............................................................................................................146 Ethnic diversity and personal voting ..................................................................................................148  Rent opportunities and personal voting .................................................................................. 149 Vote buying, time horizons, and the personal vote ............................................................................150 Rent opportunities and clientelist exchange .......................................................................................151  Case background: campaigns in Indonesia ............................................................................. 152 Monitoring and punishment ...............................................................................................................153 Decentralization and clientelism ........................................................................................................155  Theory testing: personal voting across electoral districts ....................................................... 156 Alternative explanation: ethnic diversity and personal voting................................................ 165 Ethnic diversity and candidate campaigns .........................................................................................166 Ethnicity and public opinion ..............................................................................................................171 Communal voting revisited ................................................................................................................176  Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 177  Chapter 7 – Party System Size..................................................................................... 179 Ethnic diversity and party systems: existing explanations...................................................... 180 The curious treatment of ethnic parties ..............................................................................................180 Ethnic identities and voting................................................................................................................183 Party systems and diversity: mechanisms reconsidered .....................................................................184 The Indonesian context ......................................................................................................................185  Rent opportunities, ethnic diversity, and party system size .................................................... 186 Hypotheses.........................................................................................................................................187  Theory testing: district level party systems............................................................................. 189 Hypotheses 1 and 2: effective number of electoral parties.................................................................189 Hypothesis 3: the effect of rent opportunities in the absence of ethnic diversity ...............................191 Hypothesis 4: the effect of ethnic diversity in the absence of rent opportunities ...............................197  Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 200  Chapter 8 – Party System Change .............................................................................. 201 Indonesian party system change: existing explanations.......................................................... 202 Electoral institutions and ethnic diversity: the dogs that did not bark................................................202 Presidentialism and new issues: explaining change ...........................................................................204  Rent opportunities, rent sharing, and party system change..................................................... 205 Machine politics or partisan melee? The effect of rent sharing expectations.....................................206 Rent sharing in post-Suharto Indonesia .............................................................................................207  Theory testing: change across time ......................................................................................... 208 Hypothesis 1: municipal party system size in 1999 ...........................................................................208 Hypothesis 2: district level party system change over time ...............................................................211  vi Hypothesis 3: The decline of Golkar and party system change .........................................................215  Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 224  Chapter 9 - Conclusion................................................................................................. 225 Research findings.................................................................................................................... 225 Theoretical contributions ........................................................................................................ 229 Extensions and future research ............................................................................................... 232 Discussion of policy implications ........................................................................................... 234  Bibliography .................................................................................................................. 237 Appendices..................................................................................................................... 250 Appendix A – Map of Indonesia............................................................................................. 250 Appendix B – Supplement to Chapter 2 ................................................................................. 251 Appendix C – Supplement to Chapter 3 ................................................................................. 256 Appendix D – Supplement to Chapter 4 ................................................................................. 268 Appendix E – Supplement to Chapter 5.................................................................................. 274 Appendix F – Supplement to Chapter 6.................................................................................. 278 Appendix G – Supplement to Chapter 7 ................................................................................. 288 Appendix H – Supplement to Chapter 8 ................................................................................. 298 Appendix I – List of interviews .............................................................................................. 305  vii  List of Tables Table 1 – Party system size in national electoral districts: descriptive statistics .............. 17 Table 2 - Party system size: theoretical predictions.......................................................... 38 Table 3 – Major party performance .................................................................................. 58 Table 4 – Candidate entry ............................................................................................... 105 Table 5 – Switching and loyalty: descriptive statistics ................................................... 132 Table 6 – Career strategies across time in major parties ................................................ 133 Table 7 – Switching by party dyad ................................................................................. 136 Table 8 – Switching across districts................................................................................ 137 Table 9 – Loyalty across districts ................................................................................... 138 Table 10 – Proportion of switchers across districts ........................................................ 139 Table 11 – Ethnicity and switching across districts........................................................ 141 Table 12 – Rent opportunities and preference voting ..................................................... 161 Table 13 – Predicated impact of rents on preference voting .......................................... 162 Table 14 – Public preferences for co-ethnic leadership.................................................. 174 Table 15 – Determinants of party system size ................................................................ 190 Table 16 – Municipal level party system size................................................................. 194 Table 17 – Predicted values of municipal party systems ................................................ 195 Table 18 – Determinants of DPD electoral fragmentation ............................................. 198 Table 19 – Party system size [1999] ............................................................................... 209 Table 20 – Predicted municipal party system size [1999] .............................................. 211 Table 21 –Determinants of party system expansion ....................................................... 213 Table 22 – Predicted party system expansion................................................................. 215 Table 23 – Golkar support by election............................................................................ 222 Table 24 - Appendix B – Party system inflation example .............................................. 252 Table 25 - Appendix B – Determinants of party system inflation (national) ................. 253 Table 26 - Appendix B – Determinants of party system inflation (municipal) .............. 254 Table 27 - Appendix C – Determinants of civil service size .......................................... 257 Table 28 - Appendix C – Transfers, diversity, and population size ............................... 260 Table 29 - Appendix C – Determinants of corruption .................................................... 262  viii Table 30 - Appendix C – Determinants of infrastructure provision [2007] ................... 266 Table 31 - Appendix C - Determinants of infrastructure provision [2003] .................... 267 Table 32 - Appendix D – Determinants of entry [1999-2009] ....................................... 270 Table 33 - Appendix D – Determinants of provincial entry ........................................... 271 Table 34 - Appendix D – Determinants of upper house entry........................................ 271 Table 35 - Appendix D – Determinants of entry by party size ....................................... 272 Table 36 - Appendix D – Entry across levels of governance ......................................... 273 Table 37 - Appendix E – An interactive model of party switching ................................ 276 Table 38 – Appendix F – Transfers and preference voting ............................................ 278 Table 39 - Appendix F –Fixed effects model of preference voting ................................ 279 Table 40 - Appendix F – Effect of rents by party ........................................................... 280 Table 41 - Appendix F – Preference voting and district population size........................ 282 Table 42 - Appendix F - Voting and provincial population size .................................... 283 Table 43 - Appendix F – Preference voting and separatism ........................................... 284 Table 44 – Appendix G – Ethnic diversity of party system size [2004-2009] ............... 288 Table 45 - Appendix G – Rents and party system size [2004] ....................................... 289 Table 46 - Appendix G – Alternative specification of rents [2004] ............................... 290 Table 47 - Appendix G - Alternative specification of rents............................................ 290 Table 48 - Appendix G – Determinants of municipal party system size ........................ 294 Table 49 - Appendix G – Alternative specifications of rents (municipal)...................... 295 Table 50 - Appendix G – Determinants of upper house fragmentation.......................... 296 Table 51 - Appendix H – Determinants of party system size [1999] ............................. 298 Table 52 - Appendix H – Determinants of municipal party system size [1999] ............ 299 Table 53 - Appendix H – Determinants of party system expansion ............................... 302 Table 54 - Appendix H – Party change and party expansion ......................................... 303 Table 55 - Appendix H – Determinants of Golkar support ............................................ 304 Table 56 - Appendix I – List of interviews..................................................................... 305  ix  List of Figures Figure 1 - Electoral parties and district magnitude ........................................................... 20 Figure 2 - Electoral parties and ethnic fractionalization ................................................... 24 Figure 3 – Party system aggregation................................................................................. 27 Figure 4 - Theory mapping ............................................................................................... 31 Figure 5 – Ethnic diversity and civil service size ............................................................. 76 Figure 6 – Ethnic diversity and corruption ....................................................................... 77 Figure 7 – Ethnic diversity and infrastructure quality ...................................................... 79 Figure 8 – Candidates-per-seat in 2004 ............................................................................ 89 Figure 9 – Candidates-per-seat in 2009 ............................................................................ 90 Figure 10 – PAN candidates running in harness in Medan ............................................ 100 Figure 11 – PPNUI candidates running in harness in Medan ......................................... 100 Figure 12 – District level diversity and infrastructure quality ........................................ 107 Figure 13 – Candidates-per-seat by infrastructure quality.............................................. 109 Figure 14 – DPD entry across provinces ........................................................................ 111 Figure 15 - Loyalty across time in major parties ........................................................... 135 Figure 16 – Switching across districts [2004-2009] ....................................................... 140 Figure 17 – Preference voting and rents ......................................................................... 158 Figure 18 – DPR candidate in Karo ................................................................................ 167 Figure 19 – DPR candidate in Pemantang Siantar.......................................................... 168 Figure 20 – DPR candidate Sembiring in Karo .............................................................. 169 Figure 21 - Sembiring in Pematang Siantar .................................................................... 169 Figure 22 – DPD candidate Batubara in Karo ................................................................ 169 Figure 23 – Batubara in Medan ...................................................................................... 169 Figure 24 – DPRD candidate Sumer in Bali ................................................................... 170 Figure 25 – Public preferences for co-ethnic leadership across provinces ..................... 176 Figure 26 – Marginal effect of ethnic diversity on party system size............................. 196 Figure 27 - Ethnic diversity and electoral fragmentation in DPD elections ................... 198 Figure 28 – Rent opportunities and party system expansion .......................................... 214 Figure 29 – Golkar support by region............................................................................. 218  x Figure 30 – Golkar’s decline........................................................................................... 223 Figure 31 - Appendix A – Map of Indonesia .................................................................. 250 Figure 32 - Appendix B – Municipal party system inflation .......................................... 255 Figure 33 - Appendix C – Civil service size and transfers ............................................. 259 Figure 34 - Appendix E – Marginal effect of corruption on party switching ................. 277 Figure 35 - Appendix G – Minor party support and electoral fragmentation [2004] ..... 291 Figure 36 - Appendix G - Minor party support and electoral fragmentation [2009] ...... 292 Figure 37 - Appendix G - Minor party support and municipal fragmentation ............... 292 Figure 38 - Appendix G – Straight ticket voting ............................................................ 293 Figure 39 - Appendix G – Upper house fragmentation and candidate numbers ............ 297 Figure 40 - Appendix H – Marginal effect of diversity on electoral fragmentation ....... 300 Figure 41 - Appendix H – Party system size 1999-2009 ................................................ 301 Figure 42 - Appendix H - Party system expansion ......................................................... 301  xi  Glossary BPS CSIS DAU DAK DPD DPR DPRD DPRDII ENEP Gerindra Golkar Gotong Royong Gurem Hanura Kabupaten/kota KPPOD KPU Masyumi MPR NU Pemekaran PAN PBB PBR PD PDI-P  Badan Pusat Statistik (Central Statistics Agency) Centre for Strategic and International Studies; Jakarta-based thinktank Dana Alokasi Umum (General Allocation Fund); central government transfer to sub-national bodies Dana Alokasi Khasus (Special Allocation Fund); central government transfer to sub-national bodies Dewan Perwakilan Dareah (Regional Representative’s Council); elected national regional advisory council Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (People’s Representative Council); national legislature Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (Regional People’s Representative Council); Provincial legislature Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (Regional People’s Representative Council); municipal legislature Effective number of electoral parties Partai Gerakan Indonesia Raya (The Greater Indonesia Movement Party) Partai Golongon Karya (Functional Groups Party); governing party during the New Order Term for mutual help or cooperation for shared benefit Term for small “chicken-flea” parties Partai Hati Nurani Rakyat (People's Conscience Party) Sub-provincial administrative units; referred to as “municipalities” in the dissertation Komite Pemantuan Pelaksanaan Otonmi Daerah (Regional Autonomy Watch); Indonesian NGO Komisi Pemilu Umum (General Elections Commission) Majelis Syuro Muslimin Indonesia (Indonesian Muslim Advisory Council); modernist Muslim party Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (People’s Consultative Assembly); supra-legislative body Nahdlatul Ulama (Revival of Islamic Scholars); traditionalist religious organization, ran as a party in 1955 elections Lit. “Blossoming”; term for division of sub-national administrative units Partai Amanat Nasional (National Mandate Party) Partai Bulan Bintang (Crescent Star Party) Partai Bintang Reformasi (Reform Star Party) Partai Demokrat (Democratic Party) Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle)  xii PDK PDP PKB PKI PKS PNI PPP PR suku TI UUD ’45  Partai Persatuan Demokrasi Kebangsaan (United Democratic Nationhood Party) Partai Demokrasi Pembaruan (Democratic Renewal Party) Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (National Awakening Party) Partai Komunis Indonesia (Indonesian Communist Party) Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (Prosperous Justice Party) Partai Nasionalis Indonesia (Indonesian Nationalist Party) Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (United Development Party) Proportional Representation Sub-national identity group; used synonymously with ethnicity in Indonesia Transparency International Undang-Undang Dasar 1945 (Basic Law of 1945); Indonesia’s first constitution  xiii  Acknowledgements I have accumulated many intellectual and personal debts while writing this dissertation (a few financial ones as well). Benjamin Nyblade went above and beyond in supervising this project. He has uncovered hidden assumptions, pointed out logical inconsistencies, recommended new literatures, set firm deadlines, encouraged ideas that worked, discarded ideas that failed, and found all important income streams to keep a roof over my head. Diane Mauzy has been keeping me honest in my interpretation of Indonesian politics since I first started writing on the subject. Ken Carty has had continuous advice on how to make the rather anomalous politics of Indonesia relate to the broader political parties literature. The feedback I have received from my committee has been invaluable and I will be forever grateful for their intellectual generosity. This project has benefitted from engagement with a long list of colleagues from the department. I have been lucky to have around political science students who shared my regional interests. Shane Barter has not only been a constant source of advice, he has also shared his contacts and electoral data. Aim Sinpeng has always been up for a conversation about Southeast Asian politics, and Netina Tan has brought the analytical hammer down more than once, always to the benefit of the project. I also need to thank Go Murakami, who I have run to on more than one occasion for statistical advice. Faculty members have provided invaluable support. On more than one occasion comments from Alan Jacobs and Richard Johnston prompted me to re-think my approach to an issue. Campbell Sharman has suggested new ways to think about exchange politics. Thanks as well to Chris Kam, who allowed me free use of his “super computer” when my humble laptop was not up to the computational tasks demanded of the dissertation. This project has also benefited from countless informal conversations with colleagues, especially Bill, Adam, Michael, Daniel, John, and Clare. Completion of this project was only made possible because of the support I received from friends and colleagues in Indonesia. Thanks to Yuli, for being a constant companion during both trips. I loved being able to get a slice of “normal” life in Jakarta. Rahdian had  xiv the unenviable task of improving my Bahasa. He also provided insightful thoughts on Indonesian culture, and I greatly valued the time I was able to spend with both him and Desmond. They introduced me to Inge, who proved an invaluable research companion in Jakarta. My time in North Sumatra proved productive mainly due to the hard work of Ines. I learned much from my conversations with Husnul and his colleagues at USU. Key datasets were generously provided by Sunny and Benny. Thank you to all my friends and family who have patiently supported me as I completed this dissertation. Doll and Bruce provided a family-away-from-home for my first years in Vancouver. My parents and grandparents have served double duty as both cheerleaders and, in a pinch, lenders of last resort. They can all breathe a sigh of relief now that my educational odyssey is at last complete (sort of). Finally, thank you to Jill. I suspect she had no idea what she was getting into when she started dating a PhD student. But she has borne the hardships and in the midst of all of this educational craziness we have managed to build a loving relationship. And now that we have survived work-induced stress, poverty, extended absence, exhaustion, more stress, pressing deadlines, and more poverty, married life will seem easy, right?  1  Chapter 1 - Introduction Why do some political systems have many parties while others have only a few? The origin of party system size is one of the oldest topics in modern comparative political science.1 Scholars continually return to the topic because they believe the number of parties in a system has consequences. While a system with a high number of parties is associated with positive outcomes, like a wider spectrum of ideological representation and increased voter affect, there are considerable downsides. 2 Most ominously, a fragmented party system is associated with the prevalence of extremism and polarization. In the infamous examples of 20th century Europe, party system fragmentation contributed to debilitating deadlock in France and the fall of the democratic regime in Germany (Sartori 1966). Cross-national research on regime survival confirms that an excess of parties is dangerous to the stability of democratic regimes. 3 Current literature indicates that party system size is shaped by the electoral system, the presence of societal cleavages, and the relative centralization of power in a political system. Two of these factors are relatively fixed: modifying the relative centralization of power most often requires lengthy constitutional change while deliberate alterations of demographic structures take place over the long-term (at least in liberal democratic states). Electoral systems, on the other hand, can typically be manipulated through simple acts of the legislature. Because party systems directly affect outcomes people care about, institutional engineers have sought to tweak electoral systems in order to produce favourable patterns of political competition (Horowitz 2003; Lijphart 1991,  1  In this dissertation I use the phrases ‘number of parties’, ‘party system size’, and ‘party system fragmentation’ interchangeably. 2 The existence of many parties typically implies the legislative presence of minority voices which can improve policy outputs and potentially bolster the legitimacy of the regime (Lijphart 1991) There is some evidence that political systems with many parties produce a close congruence between median voter preferences and government policy positions, though it remains difficult to disentangle the independent effect of multipartyism from the effect of electoral institutions (Budge and McDonald 2007; Powell and Vanberg 2000; Powell 2000). Likewise, the abundance of partisan options and vigorous electoral competition associated with multipartyism may increase voter turnout, though the evidence of in favour of this hypothesis has been mixed (Blais and Carty 1990; Blais and Dobrzynska 1998; Jackman 1987). 3 The relationship between democratic regime survival and party system size may be conditional upon the existence of a presidential regime. See: (Mainwaring 1993; Przeworski et al. 1996)  2 2004; Reilly 2001, 2006; Reynolds 2002; Shugart and Wattenberg 2003; Waisman and Lijphart 1996). Attempts at institutional engineering have been particularly aggressive in new democracies with potentially destabilizing ethnic divisions. Diverse societies, it is sometimes argued, are naturally prone to ethnic competition (Rabushka and Shepsle 1972). Mobilization around ethnic identities sets into place a zero-sum dynamic in which one group’s gain is perceived as another’s loss. Ambitious elites exploit group tensions for electoral gain, dividing ethnic groups into distinct partisan camps. Ethnic competition in diverse societies can not only produce a fragmented legislature but also generate incentives for extremism that threaten the integrity of both the regime and the state itself. The world abounds with cases of electoral competition precipitating ethnic violence and/or regime instability, with post-election communal violence in Kenya and Côte d'Ivoire being the most dramatic recent examples. But destabilizing ethnic competition is not only a problem in the developing world; even politicians in the seemingly consolidated democracy of Belgium recently found themselves unable to cobble together a government in the face of a polarized party system divided by ethnicity. Ethnically diverse countries have shown themselves to be particularly susceptible to the political ailments of deadlock and polarization. To head off the dangers of ethnic mobilization, some institutional engineers advocate for electoral systems that encourage inter-ethnic cooperation before an election.4 In this view, the ideal party system is one in which there are a small number of broad-based, non-ethnic parties that compete for votes across the entire nation. Scholarly advocates of this position recommend electoral systems containing an element of votepooling.5 Practitioners, however, are increasingly relying on the blunt instrument of 4  There are alternative means of managing the potentially destabilizing effects of diversity. Advocates of consociational democracy recommend institutions that enable cohesive ethnic parties that can effectively bargain for their group in grand coalitions (Lijphart 1977). Alternatively, Chandra finds that majoritarian systems in diverse countries with cross-cutting cleavages can encourage the fluidity of ethnic identities, thereby stabilizing the broader political system (Chandra 2005). Horowitz outlines the conditions that enable multiethnic coalitions, which can also have a stabilizing impact in a divided society, though his later work tends to endorse vote-pooling arrangements (Horowitz 2006; Horowitz 1985, 396-440) 5 “Vote-pooling” is a broad term used to encompass electoral systems that force voters from a number of societal groups to cooperate under a common party label in order to secure election. A discussion of votepooling in the context of ‘centripetalist’ theory can be found in (Reilly 2006). Preliminary discussion of vote-pooling appears in (Horowitz 1985, 365-369).  3 ethnic party bans to accomplish similar goals (Hartmann and Kemmerzell 2010; Moroff 2010). Ethnic party bans are thought to short-circuit the causal relationship between ethnic diversity and party system outcomes. In theory, bans depoliticize ethnicity and prevent the party system from expanding out of control. Preventing the formation of ethnic parties, however, does not clear voters’ of their ethnic identities. Which raises the question: How does ethnicity impact party competition when ethnic parties have been prohibited? Despite the increasing popularity of ethnic party bans, there is little research regarding the way these solutions play out on the ground. In this dissertation I argue that ethnic diversity has an indirect effect on party system size, even when ethnic parties have been banned. Frequently overlooked in the discussion of institutional engineering in diverse political systems is the issue of rents and rent-seeking. I interpret ‘rent-seeking’ broadly to mean the use of state power to accrue benefits for a particular person or group at the expense of the broader society. 6 It is well established that ethnic diversity tends to correlate with such variables as corruption and the provision of particularistic goods. This stylized fact is most often considered separately from the origins of party system size. Yet legacies of rent-seeking also have an independent impact on methods of partisan mobilization and the type of partisan options that emerge. Sensitivity to the formative impact of rents is central to understanding party system development, especially in diverse counties where the participation of ethnic  6  Under the umbrella of rent-seeking behaviour I include political patronage (the retail exchange of state resources for political support), personal corruption (the abuse of public office for individual gain), political corruption (the abuse of public office for political gain), and the various forms of influence peddling that typically result in state intrusions into the economic sphere. This definition is in line with recent scholarship on ‘political rents.’ For instance, Persson and Tabellini describe rents in the following terms: “Rents can take various forms, depending on specific economic circumstances: literally, they are salaries for public officials or financing for political parties. Less literally, one can think of various forms of corruption and waste in connection with public projects as ultimately providing rents for politicians” (Persson and Tabellini 2000, 8). Similarly, van Biezen and Kopecky use ‘party rent-seeking’ to refer to “the extent to which parties penetrate and control the state and use public offices for their own advantage, as opposed to the general public good” (van Biezen and Kopecky 2007, 240). This broad focus on political rents can be contrasted with a more narrow definition that limits rent-seeking to efforts by market actors to attain favorable government intervention to increase economic rents for a firm or sector (Buchanan 1980; Krueger 1974). My use of rents is also distinct from the broader conceptualization of ‘rentier states’ (L. Anderson 1987; Ross 2001). The rentier state literature examines the downstream political effects that occur as a result of revenue earned through the sale of natural resources, or ‘natural resource rents.’ Thus natural resource rents often (but not always) generate an expansion in political rents. In this project I do not attempt to disentangle the causal relationship between the two concepts and simply assume that the potential effect of natural resource revenue is captured in my various measures of political rents.  4 parties has been prohibited. This theoretical claim is demonstrated through an empirical study of party system development in Indonesia.  The puzzle of party system size in Indonesia Indonesia has a history of democratic breakdown and ethnic violence. The country’s first attempt at democracy was marked by debilitating political fragmentation, regional rebellion, and mass disillusionment with party politics (Feith 1962). The country’s second attempt at democracy began in a context of separatism and widespread communal violence (Bertrand 2004; van Klinken 2007; Wanandi 2002). Consequently, Indonesia’s institutional architecture has been deliberately designed so as to prevent ethnic competition and constrict the number of political parties. 7 Legislative quotas and electoral rules have been modified to privilege large parties. Party registration laws effectively prohibit the formation of regional and ethnic political competitors. 8 The over-riding goal has been to depoliticize regional and ethnic demands by channelling political activity into a small number of nationally oriented, broad-based parties. Given that there is a de-facto ban on ethnic parties, how does ethnic diversity in Indonesia impact partisan competition? 9 More specifically, does the ban on ethnic parties prevent the party system from developing along the lines of ethnic cleavage? Here district-level results reveal a noticeable trend: since the inaugural election of 1999, the relative size of the party system seems to follow local levels of ethnic diversity. Compared to voters in homogenous districts, Indonesians in diverse districts are  7  ‘Ethnicity’ refers to a descent-based identity that can encompass linguistic, regional, cultural, or religious markers. In this dissertation I will use ‘ethnicity’ synonymously with the Indonesian identity category referred to as ‘suku.’ Suku is a sub-national identity category typically delineated by language and/or cultural practice. 8 It is legally possible for an ethnic party to exist in Indonesia; however, regional registration requirements severely restrict the opportunity to launch such a party. My use of ‘ban’ is consistent with Moroff, who classifies a regulatory regime as banning ethnic parties if there is a “proscriptive party ban” and/or a strict “representation requirement” that effectively prevents ethnic parties from arising (Moroff 2010, 622-624) Note: the province of Aceh is exempt from bans on regional parties. Within Aceh, regional parties are permitted to compete for sub-national offices. This concession is one piece of a broader peace agreement between the Republic of Indonesia and the Acehnese separatist movement. 9 The mark of an ethnic party is to exclusivity. Parties that implicitly or explicitly limit their voting base through appeals to ethnic identity can be considered ‘ethnic.’ Indonesia does not have parties based around suku, though it does have religiously oriented parties. In the broadest sense, then, it might be said that Indonesia has ethnic parties. Given that over 88% of Indonesians are Muslim, Indonesia’s major Muslim parties explicitly or implicitly exclude few voters.  5 spreading their support across a wider array of parties. These district-level trends are one factor that contributes to national-level party system fragmentation. Across Indonesia’s three post-Suharto elections – 1999, 2004, and 2009 - the effective number of electoral parties (ENEP) at the national-level has crept up from 5.1 to 8.6 to 9.6. Despite electoral laws designed to produce a few non-ethnic parties, ethnic diversity appears to fracture the party system. What explains the variation in party system size across electoral districts? Why does party system size correlate with ethnic diversity despite an absence of ethnic parties? The latter question seems to contain its own easy answer: electoral fragmentation is caused by ethnic diversity. The parties may be outwardly non-ethnic, but this pose simply conceals the collection of local ethnic competitions that shape political behaviour and party system development. Yet a close look reveals evidence that confounds the ethnic voting story. First, the use of ethnic symbolism during campaigns is restrained. There are few obvious efforts to brand parties as the local political vehicle for a given ethnic group.10 Second, individual attitudes in diverse regions are relatively tolerant. Surveys report that ethnic chauvinism is only the norm in homogenous districts. 11 Third, there is little evidence of ethnic groups voting as a block. Intra-district dynamics reveal that, in diverse electoral districts, voters from different ethnic groups actually tend to support the same parties, though they disperse their votes more widely. 12 None of this supports a causal story in which the broad-based parties act as a veneer covering subnational ethnic competitions. Yet the question remains: if it is not ethnicity producing the correlation between ethnic diversity and party system size, then what is it? I argue that, despite initial appearances, Indonesia’s party system in diverse areas is not pulled apart by clear patterns of ethnic voting. Rather, the party system is shaped by legacies of sub-national rent-seeking opportunities. Where bureaucracies are large and rampant corruption is the norm, the number of electoral parties tends to be high; on the other hand, regions with fewer rent-seeking opportunities tend to have fewer parties. While ethnic diversity does  10  For more on the use of ethnic symbolism, see Chapter 6. Survey results appear in Chapter 6. 12 For more on block voting, see Chapter 7. 11  6 correlate with and contribute to legacies of sub-national rent opportunities, careful examination reveals that it is the opportunity to manipulate sub-national state resources that shapes local electoral politics. Indonesia’s electoral engineers may have failed in their mission to keep the number of parties low, but their institutional choices have curtailed potentially destabilizing patterns of ethnic electoral competition.  Theory My argument proposes that party systems are shaped by long-term legacies of local rent opportunities. Ethnic diversity contributes to rent-seeking opportunities, but the impact of diversity on party system size is indirect. I use the term ‘rent opportunities’ to refer to a politician’s opportunity to engage in rent-seeking behaviour. The opportunities to engage in rent-seeking are determined by two factors: 1) the extent of state resources available for manipulation; 2) the constraints preventing rent-seeking behaviour. Resources include public sector jobs, state loan programs, business licenses, and any other state service or financial stream that can be distributed by a politician. Constraints are shaped by both prevailing laws and societal norms regarding what constitutes abuse of state resources as well as the vigilance of state and non-state actors in punishing those whom violate norms and laws.13 Thus ‘high rent opportunity’ political systems have low constraints and extensive resources while, ‘low rent opportunity’ systems have strict constraints and minimal state intervention.14 I treat party systems as a dependent variable shaped by the independent variable of rent opportunities. In doing so, I reverse the typical presentation of the relationship that treats public sector outcomes like rents as dependent variables determined by party system size. To see how this claim challenges present theory it is necessary to briefly  13  Measurement of rent opportunities is methodologically difficult. Governments do not typically compile reliable statistics on the abuse of state resources. Data on the scope of state intervention is more readily available throughout multiple time periods. Throughout the dissertation I use civil service size as a key proxy for the scope of state intervention into the market and, by extension, a measure of rent opportunities. Where data is available, I also develop proxy variables using corruption perception indices, sub-national public service delivery scores, and central government transfer flows. The proxy measures and their relationship with ethnic diversity are examined in more detail in Chapter 3. 14 This conceptualization and operationalization of rent opportunities is deliberately similar to Chandra’s idea of a ‘patronage-democracy.’ I use ‘rents’ in place of ‘patronage’ to avoid conflation with traditional, non-state forms of ‘patronage’ and to emphasize that the relevant abuse of state resources is done for both political and personal gain.  7 review literature on three established causal relationships among three intersecting variables: 1) ethnic diversity and party system size; 2) ethnic diversity and public goods provision15; 3) party system size and public goods provision. 1. Countries with more ethnic groups tend to have a higher number of effective parties (W. R. Clark and Golder 2006; Cox and Amorim Neto 1997; Geys 2006; Ordeshook and Shvetsova 1994; Stoll 2007; Vatter 2003). Underpinning the argument is an assumption that politicians in diverse polities maximize their likelihood of election by organizing parties around ethnic cleavages. Likewise, voters prefer supporting such parties for either material or psychological reasons. More ethnic groups lead to more viable partisan options. Electoral institutions modify the size of the effect; yet, all else being equal, ethnic voting fragments the party system in diverse polities. Ethnic Diversity  →  High # of Parties  2. Ethnic diversity reduces the provision of public goods by both state and nonstate actors (Alesina, Baqir, and Easterly 1999; Easterly and Levine 1997; Habyarimana et al. 2007; Khwaja 2009; Miguel and Gugerty 2005). One line of argument proposes that ethnic diversity creates diversity in societal preferences. Members of different ethnic groups have different spending priorities. Even when these priorities converge, individuals do not want members of other ethnic groups benefitting from spending more than their own group. Because groups cannot reach a consensus on public goods provision, they choose to channel state money to particularistic forms of spending that can be directed to narrow support bases. Another stream of research focuses on collective action problems faced by non-state actors in diverse societies. Successful public goods projects require cooperative norms and mechanisms to punish free-riding. Individuals in diverse societies, however, face problems monitoring and punishing free-riders across 15  “Public goods” are defined as a good that is non-excludable and non-rivalarous. Rent-seeking, whether in the form of legal particularistic distribution or illegal corruption, typically implies the erosion and/or reduction of public goods provision. Because of an implied inverse relationship between rent-seeking and public goods, I treat the underlying causes of both phenomena as similar. While this dissertation is primarily concerned with rent-seeking, I use of the term “public goods” when the concept is the focus of a cited literature.  8 ethnic boundaries. Taken together, we expect diverse polities to be marked by high degrees of particurlistic spending and low sanctions against anti-social behaviour. Ethnic Diversity  →  Low Public Goods Provision  3. Fragmented party systems overproduce particularistic goods and underproduce public goods (Chhibber and Nooruddin 2004; Tsebelis 2002). Different mechanisms have been forwarded that connect party system size to public policy outcomes. An electoral mechanisms starts with the assumption that parties in multi-party systems require fewer votes to gain office. Parties in systems with few competitors must build a broad appeal through promises of public goods provision; parties in systems with many competitors face less pressure to track to the centre and rely instead on particularistic promises to their distinctive voting blocs. An alternative mechanism suggests multi-party systems face distinctive problems in the legislature. A high number of parties increases the potential number of veto points. Moving policy through the legislature frequently requires that the veto-players receive payoff for their cooperation. These payoffs often take the form of particularistic goods for a party’s narrow constituency. Both the electoral and legislative mechanisms hold that parties in fragmented party systems focus on narrow delivery of particularistic goods to their own supporters at the expense of public goods provision. High # of Parties  →  Low Public Goods Provision  At first blush these three stories seem to fit neatly together: ethnic diversity produces a high number of political parties, and a high number of political parties produce low levels of public goods provision (and high particularistic goods provision). This integrated causal story can account for the consistent finding linking ethnic diversity and public goods provision. Ethnic Diversity  →  High # of Parties  →  Low Public Goods Provision  9 If the integrated story is true, creating a system that contains a small number of nonethnic parties can not only reduce the amount of ethnic conflict in a polity, it can improve public policy outcomes. The problem with the integrated causal story is two-fold. First, the comparative party systems work does not provide direct evidence that a high number of ethnic groups produce party system fragmentation that follows ethnic lines. While theorizing takes place at the district level, existing empirical research on which the proposition is based relies on national level variables that are detached from on the ground realities. There is, in short, a mismatch between theory and empirics. The correlation between ethnic diversity and party system size appears robust and the mechanism linking the two variables is plausible, but the causal process has not been traced back to the district-level. Second, we do know that ethnic diversity correlates with low public goods provision even in the absence of democratic institutions (Alesina and La Ferrara 2004; Collier 2000). The cross-national evidence we have suggests democratic institutions may ameliorate the negative relationship between ethnic diversity and public goods provision. Thus we cannot assume the relationship between ethnic diversity and public goods provision is dependent upon party system size. Indeed, in the Indonesian case the correlation between ethnic diversity and sub-national rent opportunities was present before the transition to democracy and thus is clearly not driven by party system size. My argument modifies the causal chain slightly. Especially in countries that have recently democratized, the democratic regime inherits legacies of rent-seeking. Party systems that emerge in diverse political systems develop in a context where particularistic spending is common and the abuse of public office is the norm. Patterns of rent-seeking were shaped by ethnic diversity; however, these patterns independently affect party system development. This account places party system size at the ends of the causal chain. Ethnic Diversity  →  High Rent Opportunities  →  High # of Parties  While the treatment of party system size as a dependent variable in the relationship is new, we have long known that rent opportunities impact parties as  10 individual units. Shefter illustrates how relative access to state patronage has a long-term impact on the means by which parties appealed to voters (Shefter 1977). Likewise, Chandra argues that mobilization based on identity is facilitated by access to state patronage (Chandra 2004). My argument extends these basic insights to consider the relationship between rent opportunities and party system size. Incorporating sensitivity to rent opportunities is particularly useful when analyzing party system development in countries where access to political office is one of the few lucrative areas of economic activity.  Mechanism The rent opportunity theory advanced here views party system outcomes as a product of candidate goals and strategies. A high level of local rent opportunities shape candidate behaviour in three ways. First, there are higher rates of candidate entry. The state dominates economic life and attracts the attention of ambitious elites. Consequently, a high number of elites enter the political sphere looking to access local rent opportunities. Second, viable elites affiliate with minor parties. As attention shifts from national issues to local rent distribution, the political programmes of the major national parties carry less appeal to voters and elites. Elites feel free to use party labels opportunistically, seeking out parties that minimize the costs associated with affiliation. Third, voters anticipate local rent sharing and offer support to candidates – and, by extension, parties – based on a candidate’s perceived ability to deliver local resources after an election. A focus on candidates rather than party platform leads voters to support an array of minor party labels. All three factors – increased entry, opportunistic affiliation, and candidatecentered competition – combine to fragment the local party system. 16  16  High levels of local rent opportunities do not always produce fragmented party systems. The relationship is conditional upon expectations of local rent sharing. If there are expectations that local rent opportunities will be monopolized by a large winning party then strong incentives exist to join the local party that can form a majority within the local legislature. Rather than using labels opportunistically, elites line up to join the local party machine. Voters anticipate control of rent opportunities by the local machine and exchange their support for promise for particularistic goods delivery. These processes generate a consolidating effect on the local party system. I return to the subject of rent sharing expectations in Chapter 2.  11  The importance of the Indonesian case The primary country of interest in this dissertation is Indonesia. Indonesia, in many ways, justifies focused study due to its demographic profile alone. With a population over 236,000,000, Indonesia is the fourth most populous country in the world and the third most populous democracy. It is also the world’s largest democracy with a primarily Muslim population. In terms of political institutions, Indonesia is the world’s most populous democracy using a proportional representation electoral system. Accordingly, Indonesian legislative elections involve the highest number of candidates in the world. Despite importance of the Indonesian case, the country’s party system is often overlooked by comparative scholars. Likewise, the evolution of the post-Suharto party system has received only minimal attention from country specialists (Choi 2010; Ufen 2008). Beyond its impressive size, Indonesia makes a compelling case for the purposes of this dissertation because it contains significant internal variation on the key independent variables of interest. First, ethnic demographics vary across the archipelago. Some provinces, like Gorontalo and Bali, are dominated by one group. Others, like North Sumatra and Bengkulu, contain citizens from across a wide array of groups, with none clearly dominant. Indonesia has a range of different sub-national ethnic structures that could, in theory, produce divergent party system results. Second, rent opportunities also vary. While Indonesia is frequently perceived as a corrupt, the opportunities to manipulate state resources are not uniform across the country. Transparency International (TI) finds considerable variation in corruption perceptions across Indonesian cities. 17 Likewise, across provinces there is considerable variation in the percentage of modern sector workers employed by the government. There are meaningful regional differences in the resources available to politicians and the constraints on their behaviour. Moreover, control of most state resources has been firmly in the hands of sub-national politicians since the implementation of Indonesia’s sweeping decentralization laws passed in 1999. Variation in both key independent variables of interest make Indonesia an ideal context in  17  See: Mengukur Tingkat Korupsi di Indonesia: Indeks Persepsi Korupsi Indonesia 2008 dan Indeks Suap (Measuring the Level of Corruption in Indonesia: Indonesia 2008 Corruption Perception Index and Bribe Index).  12 which to study the causal relationship between rent opportunities, ethnic structure, and party system size. In applying the argument to Indonesia I make two basic claims. First, ethnic diversity correlates with rent opportunities and this relationship pre-exists the transition to democracy. Second, since the inaugural election voters and elites anticipate rent sharing. One unintended consequence of the new power-sharing dynamic has been the transformation of electoral politics in regions with high rent opportunities. The major parties no longer monopolize access to the state. Elites are more likely to enter electoral politics and viable candidates are more likely to join minor parties, a tendency that reflects their relatively local goals. In electoral districts with high levels of local rent opportunities, machine politics has been replaced with a candidate-centered partisan freefor-all. Electoral fragmentation is one product of this style of competition. It should come as no surprise to observers of Indonesia that a primary motivating factor for political action includes the ability to manipulate state resources. However, there are also case-specific reasons to study the origins of party system size in this case. Electoral fragmentation, when combined with the country’s bundle of electoral laws, is pushing Indonesia’s proportional electoral system to the brink of systemic failure. 18 At the district level, vote wasting reaches surprising extremes. 19 There are large groups of voters, especially in the Outer Islands, that lack any representation in the national capital.20 Geographic concentrations of disaffected voters can potentially challenge the  18  Electoral systems are judged by the outcomes they are meant to produce. Proportional systems are supposed to provide a relatively accurate translation of votes into seats. In concrete terms, proportional systems seek to minimize the number of ‘wasted’ votes, or votes that do not contribute to electing a legislative representative. Given that the number of seats in a district is finite, proportionality is never perfect. Nonetheless, proportional systems are supposed to limit wasted votes, at least when compared to their majoritarian counterparts. For more on evaluating electoral systems, see: (Shugart 2008) 19 In 2009, for instance, 62% of all votes in North Maluku were cast for parties that failed to win a seat in the district. This high percentage was, in part, due to a low district magnitude of 3 seats. But it is not simply the mechanical effect of seats-per-district that produces wasted votes. In East Nusa Tenggara 1, a district with 6 seats, 55% of votes were wasted. Neighbouring West Nusa Tenggara, a district with 10 seats, saw 40% of the electorate cast wasted votes. Over half of all districts saw 30% or more of the electorate cast votes for parties that do not win a seat within the district. For many of these voters, their preferred party failed to win a single seat across the entire country. In North Maluku, East, Nusa Tenggara 1, and West Nusa Tenggara the proportion of voters supporting parties with no national seats was 35%, 40%, and 34% respectively. 20 By “Outer Islands” I refer to all Indonesian islands excluding Java and Madura. This common shorthand is used to distinguish the densely populated areas most influenced by Javanese culture from the  13 legitimacy of the democratic regime. We want to know the motivation for these electoral choices and be cautious of any problems that can arise from the patterns of partisan support. The Indonesian electoral system is a work in progress and information about the successes and failures of the current set of laws can inform the institutional designers of tomorrow. Electoral fragmentation also affects sub-national governance. The Indonesian electorate tends to straight-ticket vote, meaning they support the party at all three levels of governance. Accordingly, sub-national legislatures are brimming with minor parties. This process of partisan fragmentation has coincided with the large scale transfer of fiscal and administrative responsibilities to municipal level governments. The decentralization of authority over key social services has ensured the importance of sub-national politics in post-Suharto Indonesia. While we have no comprehensive studies on the functioning of local legislatures, it is likely that sub-national party system affects the process of policy-making. It is thus helpful to understand the origins of local fragmentation.  Contributions Beyond accounting for political developments in Indonesia, the dissertation makes three contributions to the theoretical literature. First, the argument is novel in that that it sets rent opportunities as an independent variable producing variation in party system size. This presentation reverses the typical formulation of the relationship, which sees governance outcomes as a product of party system size. We have long known that rent opportunities affect parties as individual units, from the way they campaign to their form of organization. I connect rent opportunities to system-level outcomes and provide a detailed causal-chain to bolster my claim. Second, the research provides insight into the complex relationship between party systems and ethnicity. The results of my study suggest party systems can be engineered so that outright ethnic competition is minimized. Nonetheless, the relationship between ethnic diversity and party system size is not dependent upon explicit or even implicit mobilization around ethnic cleavages. Ethnic diversity shapes social norms and legacies  comparatively less densely populated islands that contain the bulk of the Indonesia’s landmass but only about 40% of the country’s population.  14 of state development which can have an independent impact on party systems. Institutional engineers may seek to ‘depoliticize’ ethnicity, but ethnic diversity will continue to have long lasting unforeseen effects on political development. Third, I extend several of the insights from the literature of party nationalization to account for district-level outcomes. Major works on party system nationalization begin their theorizing with the incentives candidates face to coordinate their actions in either national or local parties (Aldrich 1995; Chhibber and Kollman 2004; Hicken and Stoll 2008; Hicken 2009). This literature underlines how the balance of local verses national power shapes candidate affiliation strategies. When candidates have national goals they coordinate in national parties; when candidates have local goals, they coordinate in local parties. All of the work, however, focuses on explaining the size of the national party system. I argue that the localization of politics can impact candidate coordination both across and within electoral districts. When candidates organize to capture local prizes there can consequences for district-level party system outcomes.  Plan of dissertation This dissertation is structured around the premise that party system outcomes reflect strategic choices made by individual candidates. Many of the key choices that determine the eventual number of parties are made before the electorate even casts a ballot. A careful analysis of electoral results is, of course, an essential component in the study of party systems. To fully understand outcomes, however, we must look closely at preelectoral candidate decision-making: why candidates enter politics, how they organize themselves into parties, and how they win support from the public. Rather than study the Indonesian party system by region or temporal period, I structure empirical chapters around distinct aspects of the candidate experience: entry, affiliation, and campaign. These chapters precede the final exploration of party system outcomes. The chapters will proceed as follows. Chapter 2 lays out my theory of party system size. First I explain why existing theories of electoral institutions and ethnic voting cannot fully explain how party system correlates ethnic diversity in the Indonesian case. I then present a theory of party system size in which local rent opportunities and power sharing determine the number of parties in the system. Chapter 3 presents an  15 overview of the institutional, demographic, and partisan context of the Indonesian case. I also demonstrate that rent opportunities tend to correlate with ethnic diversity across Indonesia’s sub-national units. The next three chapters examine distinct links in the causal chain. Chapter 4 asks: why do we see variation in cross-district rates of candidate entry? While entry rates do correlate with ethnic diversity, I show that access to rent opportunities is actually motivating these entry decisions. Chapter 5 asks: why do viable elites affiliate with minor parties? To answer this question I examine patterns of career building and party switching through time. I find that candidates in provinces with high rent opportunities tend to switch parties, demonstrating that party identification is valued less by elites and voters in these areas. Chapter 6 asks: under what conditions do voters choose parties based on connections with a candidate? Through a close analysis of the 2004 election, I find that the proportion of voters casting an optional ‘preference vote’ closely correlates with rent opportunities. The chapter demonstrates the personalist nature of electoral competition in those areas where candidates can credibly pledge to provide post-election goods to supporters. All three chapters together support my argument that, in high rent regions, more aspiring politicians are more likely to enter politics, more likely to use party labels opportunistically, and more likely to run a campaign based on delivery of particularistic goods. Chapter 7 turns to party system outcomes. Through an examination of intradistrict dynamics, I parse out the independent effects of ethnic diversity and rent opportunities on party system size. I demonstrate that rent opportunities have a significant effect on electoral behaviour even in the absence of ethnic diversity. Chapter 8 shifts from a static to a dynamic analysis of party system evolution in Indonesia. In this chapter I take on the question: why have some electoral districts experienced more electoral fragmentation than others? I link the expansion of district level party systems to rent opportunities. Specifically, I show that the decline of Golkar’s party machine in high rent areas precipitated the extreme fragmentation of local party systems. Finally, Chapter 8 offers conclusions and implications for the study of comparative party systems.  16  Chapter 2 – Theory Why do some districts have many parties and others only a few? I argue that local rent opportunities influence party system size. The extent of local rent opportunities can vary across a country and are structured, in part, by a region’s ethnic demography. Local rent opportunities produce patterns of elite political entry and party affiliation that can lead to severe district-level electoral fragmentation. By studying variations in party system size across electoral districts we see party systems being shaped by long-standing patterns of rent-seeking. This helps provide a more accurate knowledge of the electoral environment Indonesia’s engineers are trying to manipulate. The chapter proceeds as follows. The first section defines the key dependent variable of interest – district-level party system size – and demonstrates the considerable variation that exists within Indonesia. In the second section I review the current literature on the determinants of party system size, explaining why none of the existing theories can account for variation in Indonesia while emphasizing the useful insights offered by each. The third section presents a theory linking party systems outcomes to local rent opportunities. In this section I define my use of rents and explain why local rent opportunities shape patterns of candidate entry, party affiliation, and campaign strategies. I go on to link these patterns of party organization and rent opportunities to electoral outcomes that determine party system size. The fourth section discusses the project’s broader contribution to the field of comparative politics.  Electoral fragmentation in Indonesia Indonesia uses a system of proportional representation (PR), but like most PR systems it sub-divides the country into separate electoral districts. Parties construct a party list for each electoral district and voters face a distinct slate of candidates from district to district. Since 1999 there has been an expansion in the number of districts and a reduction of the average district magnitude. 21 These reforms reflect efforts to bring politicians closer to their constituents and reduce the number of parties in the system.  21  ‘District magnitude’ refers to the number of seats allocated to an electoral district. See: (Cox 1997; Reed 1990; Taagepera and Shugart 1989)  17 The effective number of electoral parties in an electoral district has varied widely.22 Since the fall of Suharto there have been three open elections for the national legislature. In the inaugural election of 1999 there was an average of 4.3 electoral parties per district. 1999 would turn out to be the election with the lowest number of parties, however. The election of 2004 witnessed a significant increase in the number of parties in the district, with the average reaching 7.1. The considerable variation was further evidenced by the spread between the district with the most concentrated vote (3.2) and the district with the most fragmented vote (11.5). In 2009 the mean number of parties per district crept up to 8.5. Table 1 – Party system size in national electoral districts: descriptive statistics Year 1999 2004 2009  Number of Districts 27 69 77  Mean Magnitude 17.1 8.0 7.3  Mean ENEP 4.3 7.1 8.5  Standard Deviation 1.3 2.0 1.9  Minimum 1.6 3.2 4.3  Maximum 6.6 11.5 13.6  There has been considerable variation in the number of electoral parties across Indonesian electoral districts. Existing comparative party system theories, however, cannot account for the outcomes in the Indonesian case.  Explaining electoral fragmentation: state of the literature The study of party system size has produced a rich and active literature. I will review four approaches that account for electoral fragmentation: 1) institutional; 2) sociological; 3) interactive synthesis; 4) aggregative. Each approach either emphasizes the importance of a distinct independent variable or blends the variables in novel ways. For each approach I will explain why our current theorizing cannot account for the Indonesian case while highlighting the useful insights that I will build off when developing my theoretical model.  22  In this chapter the ‘effective number of electoral parties,’ ‘electoral fragmentation’, and the ‘size of the party system’ are used synonymously. The effective number of electoral parties is derived from the inverse of Rae’s fractionalization index: The standard mathematical expression for the effective number of electoral parties is: ENEP = 1/(si) 2 where si is the proportion of votes for party i.  18  Electoral institutions Maurice Duverger is credited for making the theoretical link between party fragmentation and electoral institutions. The oft-cited Duverger’s Law asserts that plurality systems in single-member districts tend to produce two-party competition. The addendum to Duverger’s sociological law proposes that proportional systems tend to produce multipartyism (Riker 1982). Whereas Duverger refers to allocation rules, contemporary scholars have applied Duverger’s original insight to district magnitude. Reed (1990) argues that multi-member districts tend to produce competition among n + 1 parties (where ‘n’ equals the district magnitude). Cox asserts that M + 1 (where ‘M’ equals district magnitude), “imposes an upper bound on the effective number of competitors that will appear in equilibrium” (1997, 139). If political actors are acting strategically the number of effective parties should not rise above the upper bound. In sum, the basic logic of the institutionalist literature is that an increase in district magnitude causes an increase in the fragmentation of the party system. Before examining the institutionalist argument in the Indonesian context it is important to underline the conditions required for the M+1 rule to take effect. There are two assumptions about the elite behaviour as it relates to elite entry. First, there must be common knowledge of electoral frontrunners. If elites are to avoid unwinnable races they need to know where they stand vis-à-vis their competitors, and as such they need to hold accurate information about local races. Second, elites must be concerned with the immediate electoral competition. If the goal of the campaign is not necessarily winning but the promotion of the candidate or some other cause then the field of candidates will not necessarily narrow. When elites are focused on the current election and have accurate information, marginal political contenders should not enter the race. This winnowing of the electoral field reduces the fragmentation of the vote. Voters, too, act strategically in ways that reduce the fragmentation of the vote. There are three conditions under which voters can be expected to act strategically: 1) they are short term instrumentally rational; 2) they have access to publicly available, reasonably accurate information of candidate strength; 3) they adjust they vote based on new information. If voters are not focused on the immediate contest, if they do not have access to accurate information, and/or they do not adjust their vote intensions with new  19 information, then those candidates with little chance of winning will not be abandoned and the electoral vote will be fragmented. The theoretical conditions required for M+1 to hold are, at best, only partially present in the Indonesian case. Elites and voters have minimal district-level information. Previous electoral results, especially incumbency, provide a snapshot of local strength. Given the small number of free elections the country has experienced, however, the accuracy of this information is limited. Of more relevance to this dissertation, however, is the complex structure of incentives that lead voters to support marginal candidacies. Voters regularly receive material support, through either direct gifts or the provision of community goods, which weigh on electoral decisions. A citizen who uses her vote to extract immediate gifts from potential patrons is only marginally concerned with the outcome of the race. Indonesia’s simultaneous multi-level elections add a further level of complication. As I will expand on below, both elites and voters can tilt their attention to either national or sub-national office.23 Even if voters and elites are concerned with supporting winners in the immediate electoral competition, it is not necessarily the national level competition that captures their attention and motivates their strategic decisions. Empirically, there is no evidence to suggest that Indonesian candidates either abandon hopeless campaigns or that voters abandon hopeless candidates due to the pressures of the electoral system. Figure 1 shows there is no correlation between district magnitude and the number of electoral parties in a district. 24 Elites that run for national office have goals that go beyond simply winning office and thus have little incentive to strategically exit the race. Also, the multi-level nature of Indonesian elections complicates the voters’ task of calculating party strength from publically available information, making strategic voting less likely. On its own, the electoral system cannot explain variation across districts.  23  The ideas that spill-over exists between different levels of electoral competition is also present in the extensive literature on presidential ‘coat-tails.’ This literature explores the effect of executive competition of legislative elections. See: (T. D. Clark and Wittrock 2005; W. R. Clark and Golder 2006; Cox and Amorim Neto 1997; Filippov, Ordeshook, and Shvetsova 1999; Golder 2006; Samuels 2002; Shugart 1995) 24 Note: results from the 1999 election do not appear on Figure 1. Because district magnitude varied widely in 1999, the inclusion of this year distorts the appearance of the scatter-plot. No discernible trend existed between magnitude and the effective number of electoral parties in 1999.  20 Figure 1 - Electoral parties and district magnitude  Effective Number of Electoral Parties by District Magnitude [2004, 2009] Effective Number of Electoral Parties  2  R = 0.0295  14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 2  4  6  8  10  12  District Magnitude  Social cleavages Comparative party system scholars have a long tradition of tracing party system outcomes back to a country’s socio-economic and cultural cleavages (Lipset and Rokkan 1967; Lipson 1964; McRae 1974; Meisel 1974; Rose and Urwin 1969). This body of literature hangs loosely around the idea that voting patterns reflect deeply entrenched social divisions. Countries have complex histories that generate certain societal cleavages and the party system reflects these social realities. Electoral systems, rather than being determinative of party systems, are determined by the country’s political forces. Thus the presence of either configurations such as PR and SMDP are a consequence of an emerging party system rather than a cause of a certain party system. The classic formulation of this argument is Lipset and Rokkan’s investigation of cleavage structures in the Western democracies. The authors point out that modern party systems tend to reflect the social divisions that animated party competition around the time of full manhood suffrage. These systems involved parties that reflected the primary cleavages that arose in modern states. 25 More important to the freezing hypothesis is that 25  The first set involved two cleavages that arose during the national revolution: 1) the conflict between ecclesiastical and state authorities over the rights and place of the church; 2) the conflict between the administrative centre and the periphery, which encompassed the conflict between a dominant and subordinate ethnic group. The second set of conflicts involved two cleavages that arose during the industrial revolution: 1) the conflict between agricultural and commercial concerns; 2) the conflict between workers  21 early mobilization tends to stick. Parties built organizations that bounded their memberships and voting blocs, a process that strengthened loyalties and reinforced the existing pattern of competition. The sociological approach has several relevant limitations. First, more cleavages do not necessarily mean more parties. Not all cleavages are ‘partisised’ in all countries, and the very presence of multiple cross-cutting cleavages may mitigate against party formation (Meisel 1974, 6). Second, the approach is focused on explaining outcomes at the national level. In Lipset & Rokkan’s study it is national policy battles – disestablishment, language of education, tariffs rates, extent of redistribution, etc – that drive party formation. How can we use this framework to explain district contests? The most straight-forward way would be to attempt to gauge the relative strength of the different groups within a district. This effort would have to be sensitive to which cleavages are mobilized nationally in order to properly measure the district’s heterogeneity in terms of mobilized groups. The complex nature of the issue places limits on both the theorizing and systematic study of district-level relationships between cleavages and party systems. The most common application of the social cleavage approach to Indonesia traces the roots of Indonesia’s contemporary party system back to societal divisions of aliran.26 In 1955 the four major parties collected 90% of the vote and each party was linked to a particular aliran group. As many have pointed out, however, today the connections between aliran and the party system are tenuous (Liddle and Mujani 2007; Ufen 2008). Even if we assume that partisan support circulates within boundaries set by aliran, each group now has an array of parties to choose from and some parties are clearly able to transcend these divisions. This complicates the process of mapping aliran divisions onto party system outcomes. For instance, the Javanese areas that were thought to have the deepest and most varied aliran divisions in 1955 now report some of the more consolidated party systems. While the debates about aliran continue to animate scholarly  and producers. Which cleavages were mobilized around the time of suffrage expansion was influenced by a range of particularistic factors. 26 Aliran is a term that refers to broad socio-cultural groups differentiated primarily by religious practice and, to a lesser extent, class. The relationship between aliran and the Indonesian party system is taken up in more detail in Chapter 3.  22 discussion of the Indonesian party system, the concept provides minimal leverage for those interested in the variation of party system size across electoral districts.  The interactive synthesis The rough division between those attempting to explain party system size in terms of either institutions or sociological factors has eroded in recent decades. Contemporary scholarly efforts offer a synthesis of these two views, arguing that party system size is an interaction between a country’s social diversity and its institutional structure. There is a lively discussion about which institutions determine outcomes, how core concepts should be measured, and how statistical models should be constructed. Nonetheless, the basic understanding has been set: Number of Parties = Institutions X Social Cleavages. Numerous cross-national studies lend support for this formulation (W. R. Clark and Golder 2006; Cox and Amorim Neto 1997; Ordeshook and Shvetsova 1994; Stoll 2007). The interactive approach has a straight-forward mechanism to explain why social diversity tends to fragment the party system. In this story, social cleavages create a number of social groups. Individuals within these groups are conscious of the group identity. These groups may or may not mobilize themselves politically by forming (and voting for) a political party that represents their group interests. Political parties, then, are rooted in social groups. However, the ability of a social group to mobilize behind a party is conditioned by the existing electoral system. Where an electoral system has a low effective threshold for party entry (e.g. high district magnitude, no national threshold requirements), social groups should mobilize behind a party that claims to represent the group’s political aspirations. Operationalizing the number of social cleavages and mobilizable groups within a country is a challenge. In the recent cross-national studies, ethnic diversity has become the primary social cleavage variable used to measure the number of groups, supplanting all others. According to this measure, more ethnic diversity means more groups. This raises several problems. First is the question of whether ethnicity should be treated as the dominant cleavage. It is taken as given that each country has a number of ethnic groups and under certain institutional conditions these groups will mobilize politically by forming a partisan vehicle to represent their interests. Yet those working using a  23 sociological approach have been mixed opinions on the primacy of the ethnic divide. The underlying political primacy of the ethnic cleavage remains an open question. 27 Second, the approach is unclear how the district should be treated. Theoretically, the electoral system variables all affect district-level competition and they are constructed in ways that reflect this. Ethnicity, on the other hand, is measured at the national-level using aggregate demographic data, meaning the variable captures no information about district-level ethnic composition. In part this reflects data constraints. Yet not all ethnic groups will form political parties; the relative size and dispersion of an ethnic group will affect its likelihood of mobilizing around a political party (Chandra 2004). It is, for instance, unlikely that small groups isolated to only a few districts will form a political party. Because district-level data do not tell us about national size and dispersion, it is unclear whether we should expect the same effects when studying district dynamics. 28 Third, the interactive approach has an implication that is both overlooked and relevant to the study of Indonesia; namely, the predicted non-effect of ethnic diversity in countries that prevent ethnic party formation. The causal line between latent ethnic diversity and party fragmentation requires that a group (ethnic or otherwise) has the ability to form its own political vehicle. Where entry is barred or otherwise prevented, as it is in Indonesia, the causal story falls apart and the empirical predictions are unclear. Despite the non-existence of ethnic parties, we do see a simple correlation between the number of electoral parties and the number of ethnic groups within a district.29 Figure 2 plots the effective number of electoral parties by ethnic fractionalization. In the elections since 1999, it has been the most ethnically homogenous 27  Lipson, for example, takes ‘race’ as the most important ascriptive cleavage because it is neither chosen nor easily hidden (Lipson 1964). However, a study of developed world party systems led Rose and Urwin to the conclusion that ethnic groups tend not to form political parties and suggest Lipset & Rokkan may have overemphasized the importance of this cleavage (Rose and Urwin 1969). Rose and Urwin’s findings are likely skewed by the universe of cases populated primarily by European democracies. The flexibility of borders in the European experience often allowed peripheral ethnic groups to use their ‘exit’ option of secession rather than the ‘voice’ option of political party mobilization. Systematic studies of the ‘ethnification’ of party systems across countries in both the developed and developing world have only recently begun. See: (Chandra and Wilkinson 2008) 28 As Taagepera points out, the discipline does not yet have a simple index of ethnic geographical concentration that captures the intuition that the dispersion of groups has an effect on ethnic mobilization (Taagepera 2007, 278-279). 29 The standard mathematical expression for the level of ethnic fractionalization is: Ethnic Fractionalization = 1 - (si) 2 where si is the proportion of the population in ethnic group i..  24 electoral districts that produce the fewest number of electoral parties. 30 For example, in 2004 the three districts with the least number of electoral parties were Bali, Gorontalo, and Central Java IV, all three of which were dominated by members of one ethnic group. In 2009 the list included Bali, this time with Aceh II and West Java I. Again, all three are relatively homogenous districts. This preliminary consideration does not take into account the interactive aspect of the argument but it is suggestive that some dynamic between party systems and ethnicity is at play in Indonesia. Figure 2 - Electoral parties and ethnic fractionalization  Effective Number of Electoral Parties by Ethnic Fractionalization [2004, 2009] Effective Number of Electoral Parties  14  2  R = 0.1637  12 10 8 6 4 2 0 0  0.2  0.4  0.6  0.8  1  Ethnic Fractionalization [0-1]  Despite the suggestive correlation, problems exist with the causal mechanism. In Indonesia there is little evidence that ethnic diversity produces a high number of politicized groups that can be mobilized by elites. According to opinion polls, voters in diverse electoral districts do not exhibit strong in-group preferences. Inter-ethnic political tolerance is also exhibited at the candidate level, where campaigns are restrained in their use of ethnic symbolism and ethnic appeals. At the district level, ethnic groups rarely vote as a defined block. Diverse districts have more parties, but there is no sign that the mechanisms suggested by the interactive approach are playing out in the Indonesian case. The empirical puzzle offers an opportunity to advance theoretical knowledge as to how ethnic diversity has an effect on party systems. To account for this empirical puzzle I 30  There is no discernible relationship between ethnic fractionalization and the effective number of electoral parties in 1999. I will return to the deviant 1999 election results in more detail throughout the dissertation.  25 develop an alternative theoretical story that can explain party system outcomes in Indonesia and, potentially, across the developing world. The theoretical building blocks of my argument are found in an alternative account of party system size I refer to as the party aggregation approach.  Party aggregation There is a growing party systems literature that links the number of electoral parties to the concentration of policy-making authority within the political system. Elites organize their party-building efforts and voters modify their electoral behaviour depending on where authority is located within the system. The centralization of authority provides incentives for party aggregation, defined as the extent to which electoral candidates coordinate their efforts across districts under one party banner (Hicken 2009, 2). Where the institutional incentives for party aggregation are low, the effective number of parties within the system multiplies. The key insight of the approach is to focus on the strategic calculations of legislators, candidates, and voters. Legislators face coordination problems and must form organizations in order to effectively accomplish individual and collective goals. The organizations that form offer recognizable party labels that communicate information about policy programs and past performance. Voters can use the information from party labels to assist them in voting for candidates that can pursue their policy preferences. Office seeking candidates want to win elections and access power. Accessing power in the legislature requires working in a party and winning election requires successfully appealing to the electorate. This need for parties forces candidates to coordinate their activities across electoral districts. When facing the choice of what type of party to affiliate with a candidate considers the relative centralization of policy-making authority. There are two basic forms of centralization: vertical and horizontal (Hicken 2009). Vertical centralization refers to the relative policy-making power of the national government over the subnational units. Horizontal centralization refers to the relative policy making authority of a given branch of government. In the archetypical centralized polity, policy-making authority is concentrated in a national level cabinet dominated by one party.  26 Candidate goals and party affiliation strategies are determined by the dispersion of power within the system. If, for example, there is a strong national executive then party labels that dominate the executive competition will draw the most voter attention. Candidates in such a centralized political system will face pressure to associate with a party that can compete for this prize (Chhibber and Kollman 1998, 2004; Hicken and Stoll 2008; Hicken 2009). The same is true for vertical centralization. When authority lies in the national capital, candidates gain the most from joining parties with national policy goals that can play an important role in the national legislature. As such, there are strong incentives for candidates to aggregate across electoral districts and join national parties. Attaining national power is less important in countries that devolve significant budgetary authority to sub-national units. A space opens for the formation of regionally focused parties. In these circumstances, even a candidate running for national office may find it beneficial to associate herself with a regional party as this label communicates to the voters more pertinent message than a national party label. While the aggregative approach has been used to explain national party system outcomes across nations and within the same nation over time, electoral institutions are the main independent variable used to account for the number of electoral parties within the district. Because the typical variables of interest tend to encompass the entire country (e.g. authority of the cabinet, authority of the provinces) they cannot easily account for the number of electoral parties across districts. National electoral districts in Indonesia are typically made up of multiple municipal administrative units that retain substantial policy-making authority.31 A simple extension of the aggregation approach would suggest district level fragmentation is due to low cross-municipal coordination. Plotting the electoral fragmentation of national electoral districts by the average fragmentation of the municipalities contained within those districts provides a quick test of the hypothesis. A substantial difference between  31  Contemporary Indonesia has three levels of constitutionally protected governance: national, provincial, and sub-provincial. Sub-provincial units are referred to as kabupaten and kota. Kabupaten tend to be larger units roughly equivalent to the North American ‘county,’ while kota tend to include only the boundaries of one city. Collectively, Indonesia’s sub-provincial units are most often referred to as ‘districts’ in English. Given that this dissertation is expressly concerned with electoral districts, I will attempt to avoid confusion by referring to sub-provincial units as ‘municipalities.’  27 the two variables would indicate the presence of party system inflation.32 As demonstrated in Figure 3, however, there is a tight correlation between the two variables. Party system size in national electoral districts is clearly driven by electoral fragmentation within municipal units rather than a failure of coordination across municipal units. Figure 3 – Party system aggregation  The lack of party system inflation within electoral districts has one additional implication: it strongly indicates that ethnic groups do not vote a group. Within a diverse electoral district, different ethnic groups dominate different municipalities. 33 Thus if coethnics were to vote as a group, we would expect low to modest levels of party system fragmentation at the municipal level and a sharp difference between the municipal level averages and the electoral fragmentation of the national district. At least in 2004, this was  32  Technically, measures of party system inflation calculate the difference between average district level outcomes and broader national/provincial level outcomes. For present purposes, however, a simple comparison of the two values will suffice. The issue of inflation and intra-district aggregation is examined more thoroughly in Appendix B. No evidence exists to suggest district-level party system size is caused by the failure of political elites to coordinate across municipalities. 33 Take the electoral district of East Nusa Tenggara II for instance: Kabupaten Sumba Barat is dominated by suku Sumba, Kabupaten Timor Tengah Selatan is dominated by suku Atoni Metto, and Kabupaten Belu is dominated by suku Belu. This type of municipally bounded ethnic segregation is common.  28 clearly not the case.34 The non-importance of inflation strongly suggests that crossdistrict variation in party system size is not caused by distinct patterns of communal voting in diverse districts. In sum: The four existing approaches that provide a causal explanation for party system size cannot account for cross-district party system size in Indonesia. District magnitude clearly does not explain cross district variation. There is evidence to support the sociological/interactionist argument that the internal ethnic structure of the district can potentially explain party system size; nonetheless, the mechanism is complicated by the non-ethnic nature of the Indonesian party system. Though district level results are not caused by intra-district failure to aggregate across municipalities, the approach does draw our attention to the ways in which sub-national governments affect political organization. Struggles for control of local resources can shape the party affiliation decisions of elites competing at the national level. I build off this base to construct a theoretical approach that can account for outcomes in Indonesia.  A theory of party system size across electoral districts Local rent opportunities play a decisive role in shaping electoral outcomes. In high rent districts, the benefits for attaining local power are a driving force behind party organizational efforts.35 The elevation of local issues (rent access) creates space for the success of minor parties. Local rent opportunities induce high levels of candidate entry, entice viable elites to affiliate with minor parties, and incentivise personalist campaigns. These factors increase the number of viable options facing voters. In short, the struggles for local resources explain variation in party system size across Indonesian districts. 36 The argument raises a distinct set of conceptual questions that must be answered: What are rent opportunities and why do they vary? Why do rent opportunities have an effect on candidate entry, party affiliation, and the personalism of campaigns? How do 34  Even less intra-district party system inflation existed in 1999. Though I do not have the data to systematically investigate party system inflation in the most recent election, preliminary observations suggest the 2004 pattern of low intra-district inflation occurred in 2009 as well. 35 ‘High rent district’ refers to a national electoral district that contains sub-national governments with high levels of rent opportunities. 36 The two levels of elected sub-national government that allow partisan organization in Indonesia are the provincial and the municipal. All references to ‘sub-national’ and ‘local’ government will refer to both municipal and provincial governments.  29 these candidate level factors affect party system size? Under what conditions do we expect the causal mechanism to occur?  Defining rent opportunities Rent opportunities are determined by two factors: 1) state resources available for manipulation; 2) constraints against rent-seeking behaviour. Constraints are low where law enforcement officials are lax and societal norms encourage politicians to use state resources to support their political networks. Resources are high when politicians have a large budget to skim from, plenty of government services to pass out as favours, and a large number of jobs to distribute to supporters. A combination of low constraints and extensive state resources make for high rent opportunities. But why would rent opportunities ever vary across a country? One existing answer ties rent opportunities to sub-national ethnic structures. Ethnic diversity has an effect on both state resources and constraints on behaviour. Regarding resources, ethnic diversity can influence budgetary and spending decisions, thereby expanding resources available for politicians to distribute. Attempts at modelling budgetary decision-making in diverse societies typically assume divergence of tastes which can come in two forms (Alesina, Baqir, and Easterly 1999). First, individuals in different ethnic groups may prefer spending on different non-excludable projects (e.g. hospitals vs. libraries). Conflict over priorities leads to under-supply of non-excludable goods. Second, citizens may agree on priorities but only value spending if members if co-ethnics gain more than other groups. Thus citizens in Ethnic Group A only support hospital spending if co-ethnics are seen to benefit from such spending more than citizens from Group B. This form of ‘taste for discrimination’ leads to an under-supply of non-excludable goods, especially in situations with high between-group income inequality (Baldwin and Huber 2010). Particularistic spending, on the other hand, is more likely in diverse contexts. Inter-group log-rolls on particularistic spending solve the inherent problem of dividing the budgetary pie amongst the different ethnic groups. In more authoritarian contexts, where one ethnicgroup rules, policy-makers can use the savings from the under-supply of non-excludable goods to provide particularistic goods to the ruling ethnic group. Over the long term, privileging particularistic spending has a self-reinforcing logic. Particularistic projects and agencies are created, funded, and become interest groups in their own right. Shifting  30 spending from particularistic to non-excludable goods threatens entrenched interests tied to specific groups and can disturb social stability. As such, the bias toward particularistic spending in diverse political systems is sticky. Ethnic diversity can also affect the constraints placed on policy-makers. In particular, ethnic diversity tends to correlate with various measures of corruption (Glaeser and Saks 2006; Mauro 1995). This suggests that politicians in diverse areas perceive the illegal manipulation of state funds and policy implementation as broadly acceptable. One reason corruption flourishes in diverse contexts is due to the difficulties of social sanctioning in diverse contexts (Habyarimana et al. 2007). For instance, the provision of collective goods in diverse contexts is especially prone to the problem of free-riding as those that shirk do not expect effective sanctioning across ethnic lines (Miguel and Gugerty 2005). If ethnic barriers increase the costs of sanctioning, those with clean government preferences may be dissuaded from pursuing corrupt officials. Additionally, ethnic diversity leads to lower levels of social capital and social trust (Putnam 2007). Citizens in diverse contexts may not trust their co-citizens to apply sanctions against corrupt officials and thus do not bother applying sanctions themselves. Whatever the mechanism at work, politicians in diverse political systems behave as if there are fewer constraints on their behaviour than politicians in homogenous systems. Diverse societies are associated with certain political pathologies (low trust, zerosum competitive dynamics, etc) that increase rent opportunities in the long term. Yet an equally important part of the story connecting diversity and rent opportunities is the relationship between diversity and state structure. Social demographics shape the internal organization of the state itself. The presence of multiple groups is frequently associated with a demand for some form of group autonomy. The response of the state can impact internal boundaries, the centralization of fiscal authority, and the distribution of state revenue. These structural accommodations directly affect the local opportunities available to politicians. For instance, evidence from the cross-national literature suggests diverse countries are more likely to decentralize fiscal authority (Panizza 1999). In Indonesia, structural accommodations have resulted in comparatively high per-capita transfers flowing to the sub-national units in diverse areas. These transfer flows expand the resources available to politicians in certain areas.  31 Taken together, ethnic diversity can impact both the resources available to politicians and the constraints placed on their behaviour. While some of the proposed mechanisms suggest electoral motivations, these are not necessary to produce the relationship between diversity and rent opportunities. The thrust of this dissertation, however, is not to explain why ethnic diversity and rent opportunities might correlate. Rather, I argue that, under certain institutional and partisan circumstances, rent opportunities have an independent effect on political behaviour that produces party system fragmentation.  Rents and candidates strategies: entry, affiliation, and campaigns The theory advanced here views party system outcomes as a product of candidate goals and strategies. Candidates coordinate their political activities with other candidates to achieve certain goals. Broadly, candidates may orient their goals toward the capture of either national or sub-national power. To account for party system outcomes we must understand how the prize motivating candidate behaviour can vary systematically across a country. Figure 4 - Theory mapping  I argue that rent opportunities have three interrelated effects on candidate behaviour. The theoretical model appears in Figure 4. First, rent opportunities increase candidate entry. Second, rent opportunities increase the likelihood that viable candidates will affiliate with minor parties. Third, rent opportunities increase the personalist and clientelistic nature of campaigns. The combined impact of all three factors has an effect on party system size. When a high number of viable elites run candidate-centered campaigns under minor party labels, the electorate tends to disperse its vote across a wide  32 array of minor parties. Consequently, the effective number of parties in the system increases. The argument hinges on three assumptions. First, the saliency of local office access dominates other issue areas when rent opportunities are high. Second, voters and elites hold ex ante expectations that sub-national rent opportunities will be shared after the election. Though this does not require rents to be shared equally, it does imply even candidates from minor parties expect to access local resources if elected. Third, even non-elected candidates earn influence within their local party branch for participating in a campaign. This holds true for both national and sub-national candidates. Providing some co-partisans are elected to sub-national office, influence with a local branch can be used to access rents between elections. To dig into the logic of the argument I examine each piece of the causal chain – entry, affiliation, and campaigns – independently. Candidate Entry The number of viable partisan options faced by voters is, in part, dependent on patterns of candidate entry. A party with no local champions is unlikely to receive support from the populace; a party with a full slate can expect a more extensive campaign from its local agents. Accounting for candidate entry, then, provides insight as to why some voters face different numbers of viable partisan options across electoral districts. Why is there variation in candidate entry across electoral districts? While a robust formal literature exists on candidate entry, there have been few attempts to understand the phenomenon in developing political systems where policy positioning is less important than accessing state rents. Samuels (2003, 15) offers a basic starting point here. In his simple formalization, a candidate’s utility from running equals the benefit from office times the probability of winning, minus the costs of running for the office.37 This is a widely applicable model that focuses our attention on three important factors: the probability of winning, the value of the office, and the costs that will be incurred.  37  The relationship is expressed as: Ui (Running for Office o) = P ioBio – Cio where Pio is the probability of individual “i" winning office “o”, B io is the benefit individual “i" receives from holding office “o”, and Cio are the costs individual “i" incurs for seeking office “o.”  33 Why do some districts attract more viable politicians than others? Samuels can provide a framework for answering this question but does not explain why office benefits and/or costs may vary across a country. Chandra ties entry the benefits of office to the access it provides to patronage (Chandra 2004, 2007). Chandra states: In a patronage democracy, obtaining control of the state is the principal means of obtaining both a better livelihood and higher status. Elected office or government jobs, rather than the private sector, become the principal source of employment. And because individuals who control the state are in a position of power over the lives of others, it also brings with it higher status. Those who have the capital to launch a political career in patronage-democracies, therefore, seek political office. (Chandra 2007, 87) In short, it is the ability to manipulate state resources that draws competitors into the system. Chandra provides leverage in explaining why some offices are more valuable than others. In Chandra’s account, however, the benefits of office are fixed. All polities have the same office benefits if they reach the patronage-democracy threshold. For the purpose of within country study, however, the benefits of office are better understood as more of a sliding scale. Some polities will offer more opportunities for rent-seeking than others. Rent-seeking opportunities, meanwhile, increase the value of holding office. Where expected office benefits are high there is more incentive to skimp, save, and borrow in order to invest in a political career. Entrance costs may also be large, but so is the value of office. Aspiring politicians in areas where office benefits are large are more likely to become candidates. As a result, more politicians enter the political competition. Both sub-national and national candidates are more willing to enter politics and become a candidate when office benefits are high. For the sub-national candidate, the direct benefit from holding local office tends to be correlated with the local rent opportunities. For the national candidate, the link to sub-national co-partisans through the mechanism of party influence connects their payoff to the value of local office. At both levels of government local rent opportunities entice higher levels of candidate entry. Candidate affiliation Minor parties are able to succeed when they are able to attract viable candidates. But why do politicians join minor parties? Hicken (2009) presents a simple formalization of the incentives facing national legislative candidates. Candidates are motivated by the rewards  34 for entering either a major or minor party. They calculate the expected utility of coordination for each option. The payoff is the benefits of aggregation (the size of the prize for being in the largest national party) and the probability that their efforts will allow them to enjoy this prize. These are offset by potential costs incurred for coordination. The larger the expected utility for coordinating efforts in a large party as compared to expected utility of coordinating in a small party, the greater the incentives for aggregation.38 The relative centralization or decentralization of power tends not to vary across electoral districts in a single country. Local rent opportunities, on the other hand, do vary across districts. Rent opportunities affect the size of the national prize. Where the local government plays a dominant role in the economic lives of the citizens, and personal relationships with local politicians can help access state resources, elite and voter attention tends to shift from national to local issues. Where opportunities for local rents are high the expected payoff to a candidate for coordinating her efforts in a large national party is low. On the other hand, the expected payoff from attaining influence with a local party branch is high. Minor parties can be effective if voters and elites are focused on local rents. Minor party labels typically do not provide the electoral brand recognition of the major parties. Likewise, the career trajectory of a national level politician affiliated with a minor party may be stunted by the small size of the party’s legislative caucus. On the other hand, candidates that affiliate with minor parties can often avoid the financial and ideological costs that come with participation in a major party. Moreover, if the prize that motivates a candidate’s behaviour is building local influence and accessing local rent opportunities, the candidate can avoid the large national parties and still have a lucrative political career. As such, in electoral districts with high rent opportunities, viable candidates are more likely to join minor parties.  38  Hicken’s formal presentation is: EUlarge = p(EPL) + (1-p)(EP~L) – C where EUlarge is the payoff to a candidate for coordinating their efforts with a large party across districts, P is the probability the coordination produces the largest party, and 1-p is the probability that coordination produces a party that is not the largest. EPL is the payoff for being the largest party, and EP~L is the payoff for being a party that is not the largest. C is the costs incurred for cross-district coordination.  35 Candidate-centered campaigns The issue of candidate campaigns follows closely from the issue of affiliation. Campaigns involve efforts by the candidate to persuade the electorate to offer their votes, whether through programmatic or clientelistic promises. There are many different ways to campaign; however we can broadly separate campaigns based on their emphasis of either party-centered or candidate-centered appeals. Why do candidates emphasize personal over partisan messages? Consider the local campaign in an area with high rent opportunities. If voters are primarily concerned with ensuring access to individualized benefits from the local government, national policy concerns will be minimal. The major party labels communicate very little about a local candidate’s ability to deliver rewards once in office. Given that competition across parties on issues is less likely to be relevant to the average voter, candidates are driven to compete by either pledging their ability to deliver goods once elected and/or pointing out their past success at this task if they are an incumbent. Campaigning takes the form of individualized or club goods delivery. A new set of dishes or the repair of a local temple demonstrates a candidate’s willingness to deliver particularistic goods to her targeted supporters once in office. Voters and candidates struggle with time-inconsistency issues: goods delivered by the candidate before election do not guarantee votes, and the election of a purportedly friendly patron does not guarantee a voter goods delivery once the patron has been elected. The more relevant point, however, is that these personal, patronage-centered appeals are likely to take place separately from national-level party competition over policy and governmental control. In a campaign where the promise of particularistic goods delivery is essential, a candidate running under a minor party label can compete with a candidate from a major party if voters anticipate that even minor party politicians will have some influence over the distribution of valuable local goods after an election.  Rent opportunities and party system size All three candidate-level effects of rent opportunities – increased entry, affiliation with minor parties, candidate-centered campaigns – combine to fragment the party system. The basic mechanism works through minor party support. Minor parties in high rent areas are more likely to have slates with a respectable number of viable candidates. These  36 locally viable minor party candidates appeal to the electorate by promising to deliver particularistic goods once elected. Consequently, the vote share for minor parties’ increases at the expense of the major parties. Yet the major national parties are not entirely routed by their minor competitors. They are able to tap into that portion of the electorate that retains a national orientation. Also, they adapt by recruiting candidates that can compete with clientelistic appeals. In high rent districts, the major parties lose voteshare but they are not completely displaced by minor parties. Rather, the success of minor parties expands the number of parties in the local party system.  Scope conditions and contributions The dissertation links rent opportunities to party system outcomes. The immediate applicability of the theory is bounded by assumptions being made about the formal and informal institutional environment. In this section I emphasize the contributions made by my research while noting scope conditions that bound my theoretical model.  Rent sharing expectations The theoretical arguments linking rent opportunities and party system fragmentation depend on the condition of local rent sharing. By local rent sharing I refer to expectations that candidates and voters hold regarding the control of rents in a sub-national system. Local rent sharing is high when voters and elites expect parties to share in the distribution of rents rather than exclude one or more major actors. Where there are high expectations for local rent sharing, voters and elites expect to see universal or near-universal governance coalitions. Where there are low expectations for local rent-sharing, voters and elites anticipate rents will be controlled by either a large party or a minimal winning coalition of parties. In political systems with high-levels of rent sharing, there are no losers; in systems with low-level of rent sharing, actors are excluded from accessing rents. This raises the question: why would there ever be expectations of rent sharing? Studies of legislative coalition formation provide potential answers, typically hinging on the information constraints facing legislators and party leaders. From the point of view of the legislator, coalition behaviour is strongly conditioned by whether politics is  37 dominated by the provision of either distributive goods or public goods. 39 If a politician cares about re-election, and access to distributive goods increases the chance of reelection, there are reasons to prefer a universalism norm. The legislator may receive more benefit from inclusion in a minimum winning coalition; however, they would rather guarantee access to distributive goods in a universal coalition than risk being cut out of a minimal winning coalition. From the point of view of party elites during coalition formation, leaders may prefer to have more parties than necessary if they cannot rely on the loyalty of the coalition members. Extra coalition members ensure a small numbers of defections will not forestall government initiatives (Volden and Carrubba 2004). While this game theoretic logic has not been applied to the Indonesian case, the country’s coalition politics neatly fit existing empirical predictions. Universal, or near universal, coalitions are the norm in Indonesia. Indonesian politics are primarily about distribution (often in the form of corruption) and no politician wants to be cut off from the spoils. When politics switches to questions of public goods provision, legislative committees are notoriously independent and coalition leaders cannot reliably depend on their legislators to toe the party line. Legislator-level desire to maintain access to rents as well as leader-level concerns about government stability creates the incentives for oversized coalitions. Yet these are not the only explanations for Indonesia’s universalism norm. In his explanation of over-sized coalitions in Indonesia, Slater (2004) emphasizes the importance of retaining access to state resources. However, he goes further and suggests the cartelistic behaviours can be partially explained because no contender expects an electoral breakthrough in which they would rule the legislature. Additional arguments can be made emphasizing the impact Indonesia’s formal and informal institutions have on coalition behaviour. 40 The important point is that most parties that win seats are able to access rents in Indonesia, even small ones.  39  Distributive goods have concentrated benefits, diffuse costs, and can be disaggregated unit by unit. Public goods are provided to all citizens equally (Weingast 1979). 40 Slater also notes (and dismisses) the cultural arguments used by Indonesian leaders themselves to justify their over-sized coalitions (2004, 66). He is correct that national cultural traditions do not necessitate elite collusion. But popular cultural concepts like “mufakat” (consensus) and “gotong-royong” (mutual help) make it easier for politicians to publically justify their decision to cooperate with erstwhile rivals. Even if informal codes of conduct do not directly cause Indonesia’s over sized coalitions, it is plausible that they help sustain the practice in light of public scrutiny.  38 Table 2 - Party system size: theoretical predictions  Scope of Local Rent Opportunities Local Rent Sharing Expected?  High Rents Yes A. Many Parties No C. Fewer than Cell A  Low Rents B. Fewer than Cell A D. More than Cell C  When candidates expect local rent sharing in high rent political systems I hypothesize they alter their behaviour in ways consistent with my model. However, where candidates do not expect local rents sharing, my theoretical predictions should not hold. Table 2 presents a 2X2 with empirical predictions regarding number of parties by extent of rent opportunities and expectations of rent sharing. High rent opportunities produce party systems that have either a relatively high or relatively low number of parties, depending on expectations of rent sharing. The combination of no rent sharing expectations and high rent opportunities should create the conditions for the success of a machine party. The scope condition limits the applicability of the theory to only political systems with expectations of rent sharing, but it also places the work into comparative perspective. It is likely that rent opportunities facilitated the growth and maintenance of party machines in some political systems. My work suggests conditions under which rewards are distributed by either party machines or personalistic networks.  Ethnic parties and ethnic party bans A second scope condition relates to the non-existence of ethnic parties. My argument suggests that ethnic diversity can shape the party system through a mechanism more subtle than the ‘ethnification’ of parties. Indonesia is a case where parties are effectively blocked from forming along ethno-linguistic lines; nonetheless, ethnic structure can still affect long-term patterns of sub-national spending and these patterns affect the incentives offered to both voters and elites. By altering the political-economic context, ethnic diversity manages to shape party system outcomes without necessarily producing an ethnic party system. Where political actors are not prohibited from launching and voting for ethnic parties, it is unlikely that my theoretical story will hold. The existence of clear ethnic  39 parties facilitates processes of communal polarization which alter the strategies of elites and voters in ways that disrupt my causal story. While my proposed mechanism only works in countries where ethnic party formation has been prohibited, awareness of this more subtle mechanism should still inform future cross-national studies of ethnic diversity and party systems. The prohibition of ethnic parties has become a common tool of institutional design.41 The considerable literature that has built up around the exploration of ethnic diversity and party system size has not considered the issue of ethnic party bans; indeed, only recently has the proposed mechanism between the ethnic diversity and the multiplication of ethnically based parties come under scrutiny. 42 Though the application of the theory is bounded by institutional conditions, this close study of politics in one country with an ethnic party ban has implications for a broader universe of cases.  Decentralization and sub-national power A third theoretical scope condition relates to assumptions made about the distribution of power across different levels of government. Previous theorists have highlighted the way vertical and horizontal centralization of authority can shape national party system outcomes. They have not applied the approach to understanding variations across electoral districts. This dissertation breaks new ground by extending the insights of the aggregative approach down to the district-level. Indonesia offers an interesting case where the competition for both provincial and municipal power is a significant factor influencing national-level voting decisions. The specific theoretical framework outlined above depends upon two institutional conditions. First, sub-national units have effective power to distribute goods that are valued by the electorate. Second, elites are required to join nationally certified parties in order to compete for sub-national office. While these two conditions do not apply to all countries, what is broadly applicable is the concept that the units of governance contained within an electoral district can potentially shape both patterns of party organization and party system outcomes. Where municipalities have a 41  Though instances of ethnic party prohibition in sub-Saharan Africa have received the most scholarly attention, they have also been enacted in South Asia, the Middle-East, and several post-communist states (Basedau, Bogaards, and Hartmann 2007). 42 Chandra, for instance, has begun a major project to measure the ‘ethnification’ of party systems (Chandra and Wilkinson 2008).  40 significant impact on voters’ lives, the struggle for municipal power can potentially percolate up, affecting how voters and elites align themselves in national-level competitions.  41  Chapter 3 - Indonesia Background This dissertation is concerned with the relationships between ethnicity, rent opportunities, and party systems. While Indonesia’s institutional framework was set up to prevent the formation of regional and ethnic parties, we still see the residual effect of ethnic diversity on the party system. Specifically, ethnic diversity shapes the local rent-seeking opportunities open to politicians, which thereby alters patterns of political participation by elites and voters. The empirical chapters link party system size to rent opportunities through an examination of party organization and electoral campaigns. The theoretical story takes place in the complex institutional and social context of the Indonesian case. Some case-level knowledge is important before discussing the issue of party system evolution. Key questions need to be addressed: Why have Indonesian institutional designers tried to limit the partisan expression of sub-national identities? Beyond rent opportunities, which institutions and cleavages shape the Indonesian party system? What are the key indicators of rent opportunities? Why do rent opportunities correlate with ethnic diversity? The background proceeds in four sections. The first section examines the political challenge posed by ethnic diversity in Indonesia. I trace the unease with ethnic parties to the development of nationalist norms. The second section describes the evolution of the country’s political institutions that directly shape the Indonesian party system. Particular attention is paid to the legal tools used to suppress regional and ethnic party formation. In the third section I describe the major players, the cleavage structure, and the coalition patterns that typify the contemporary Indonesian party system. The fourth section examines rent opportunities across Indonesia. I describe how decentralization increased the material and political importance of sub-national power. I then link variation in local rent opportunities to ethnic diversity.  The origins of nationalist norms Efforts to prevent regional and ethnic party formation in Indonesia have been motivated by a concern for national unity. One only has to look at a map to gain some appreciation for the challenge of managing diversity and maintaining territorial integrity. It seems only natural for an archipelagic country to remain on guard against possible separatist islands.  42 Still, part of the country’s allergy to ethnic parties can be traced back to its particular brand of nationalism. To understand the norms that shape contemporary political institutions it is useful to revisit the ethnic and colonial context that confronted Indonesia’s early nationalists.  Ethnicity in Indonesia Indonesia is a country of more than 10,000 islands that contain people speaking over 700 different languages. Like many post-colonial countries, Indonesia is a product of the colonizer. The country’s present borders follow the limits of the old Netherlands Indies, a colony that was shaped by competition with imperial rivals more than it was the contours of human or physical geography. Peculiarities abound. Indonesia claims only the southern portion of Borneo and the western portions of Timor and New Guinea. Culturally Malay areas of eastern Sumatra are separated by international border from coethnics on the nearby Malay Peninsula. Although the country is predominantly Muslim, there are islands dominated by Hindus, Protestants, and Catholics. As one Western observer of the country suggests, Indonesia itself is an ‘unlikely nation.’43 Ethnic groups in Indonesia are officially referred to as suku bangsa (sub-nation), often shortened to simply suku. The official term suku bangsa implies a sub-national group cannot ever reach the level of bangsa (nation) and thus contains an assumption about the natural order of political organization. Rebellious groups such as the Acehnese have often referred to themselves as a bangsa, a rhetorical move to indicate the group’s self-confidence and claim to political autonomy (Aspinall 2006, 174). The Acehnese claim to nationhood does overlap with the relatively homogenous Acehnese ethnic group. Complicating the situation further, the regionalist movement in Papua refers to itself as a bangsa that contains multiple suku bangsa. Despite the contested political nature of the term, I will refer to all sub-national descent based identities interchangeably as either ‘ethnic groups’ or suku. The limited definition excludes the regionalist claims to nationhood such as Bangsa Papua.  43  Technically, title of “Indonesia: The Unlikely Nation?” leaves the question open (C. Brown 2003).  43 Unlike the categorization of religion, the Indonesian state does not follow rigid bureaucratic guidelines for the categorization of citizen’s ethnicity. 44 It was not until 2000 that the Indonesian authorities finally published census data that included ethnic composition. Dutch efforts in 1930 sorted people by ‘social criteria,’ namely language and custom. Census-workers identified 137 groups in that year, though the number was substantially circumscribed due to census-takers relying on their assessment rather than self-reporting (van Klinken 2003, 101). In 2000, census-workers were more sensitive to self-identification and individuals were coded as belonging to one of 1,072 different groups. Most groups are small. Papua alone contains hundreds of different suku, but only two indigenous groups – Biak Numfor and Dani – contain over 100,000 people. At 42% of the population, the Javanese constitute Indonesia’s largest ethnic group. The only other group with over 10% of the population is the Sundanese (15%). The demographic weight of the plurality group frequently sparks accusations of Javanese chauvinism. Given that the Javanese are concentrated on one island – Java – complaints are often voiced in geographic terms. Indonesian policies are targeted by those from the Outer Islands for ignoring the needs of the ‘regions.’ Presidential tickets commonly attempt to balance a Javanese candidate with an Outer Islander. Also, the presence of Javanese migrants can motivate a ‘native sons’ (putra daerah) political backlash.45 Despite the existence of antiJava rhetoric, though, there is nothing approaching a common Outer Island identity. Observers occasionally fear the break up and ‘balkanization’ of Indonesia (Hadar 2000; Wanandi 2002). The borders have, however, remained relatively stable; the only successful secession took place in East Timor, a province that was never part of the original Dutch colony. While territorial integrity has sometimes been enforced at the barrel of a gun, coercion alone cannot explain Indonesia’s endurance. The stability of the  44  Indonesia has long had five official religions (Islam, Catholicism, Protestantism, Hinduism, Buddhism). All Indonesians must proscribe to one of the options, which appear on a citizen’s identification card. The practice leaves little opportunity for self-expression, papering over substantial internal diversity within the Muslim community as well as forcing followers of indigenous faiths to identify with a religion of which they may have little knowledge. 45 It is not just Javanese migrants that motivate responses from local groups, though the raw number of Javanese migrants makes them the most likely source of backlash.  44 country’s borders serve as one indicator of the resilience of Indonesia’s brand of nonethnic civic nationalism.  The rise of Indonesian nationalism While Indonesian textbooks suggest the existence of pre-colonial unity, most observers trace the conditions of Indonesian nationalism back to Dutch colonial policy. According to Henley, “Until the consolidation of the Dutch colonial state, Bataks and Balinese, if they had heard of each other at all, had no more notion of sharing an Indonesian - or any other - identity than did Tagalogs or Merinas” (Henley 1995, 289). Anderson highlights a few crucial colonial policies that forged the Indonesian identity. Classroom maps of the Netherlands Indies imprinted the idea of the nation in the imagination of students (Anderson 1991, 176-178). The official promotion of Malay provided a common vernacular (Anderson 1991, 131-132). As well, the development of an integrated colonial bureaucracy strengthened a common sense of identity among the elite (Anderson 1991, 121-122). These factors provided the foundation on which Indonesian nationalism would later develop As Henley points out, though, Indonesian nationalism was by no means inevitable. Several policies highlighted by Anderson were also present in French Indochina, which later fragmented into three countries. For Henley, Indonesian nationalism is explained by the non-emergence of Javanese exclusivist nationalism. Java’s weak historical memory of national unity, combined with the gradual pace of Dutch colonialism, stunted the development of an exclusivist Javanese nationalism. Had the Javanese experienced both centuries of pre-colonial rivalries with foreign powers and the swift arrival of a colonial power, the group would have possessed a stronger sense of identity that could have led to either the political fragmentation seen in French Indochina or the violent ethnic chauvinism seen in Burma. Instead, the non-emergence of Javanese nationalism opened space for an inclusive, civic nationalism. From the outset of the nationalist movement, ethnic divisions were an obstacle to national unity. Sukarno, according to Legge, ‘deplored’ the divisions generated by the  45 patchwork of religious and ethnic associations (Legge 2003, 91).46 After the founding of Indonesian Nationalist Party (Partai Nasionalis Indonesia, PNI), Sukarno and his allies assembled representatives of the ethnic associations in order to win support for the movement. The meeting resulted in the famous ‘Youth Pledge’ of ‘One Fatherland, One Nation, One Language’ (satu nusa, satu bangsa, satu bahasa), a clear repudiation of political organization around sub-national identities. Nationalist suspicion of sub-national identities grew during the Revolutionary period (1945-1949) when, in a bid to win local support, the Dutch created a considerable number of ‘states’ in the areas they controlled. In many cases these puppet states followed ethnic lines. 47 The nationalist Republican government accused the Dutch of ‘divide and rule’ tactics and nationalists were expected to reject the creation of Dutch ethnically based units and agitate for the unitary Indonesian Republic. The eventual victory of Republican forces bolstered nationalist identity. In a nod to internal pluralism, Indonesia proclaimed its motto Unity in Diversity (Bhinneka Tunggal Ika). Nonetheless, the realities of governing an under-developed, post-colonial state brought the regional and ethnic tensions to the fore. The Republic soon faced a series of regional revolts. The response from the centre was to further stigmatize subnational loyalties. Ethnicity became a taboo subject due to its ‘explosive potential’ (van Klinken and Nordholt 2007, 22). Sukuisme, defined broadly as forwarding demands for the benefits of one’s own group, became a common pejorative. During the Suharto years, the press was regularly lectured on avoiding any discussion of ethnicity, religion, race, and class (Suku, Agama, Ras Antar Golongan, SARA). In dealing with ‘ethnic’ questions, Indonesia has lived a double life: the concept of diversity could be celebrated in an official capacity but strong norms built up against the honest discussion of ethnic tension. Vigilance against signs of SARA persists, especially among the urban elite. Despite the recent liberalization of the political sphere, these norms have been embedded in the country’s electoral institutions and party programs. 46  Ironically, Sukarno started his political career in “young Java”, an organization of the type he would later seek to sideline. 47 ‘Pasundan’ was formed in Sundanese areas, ‘Madura’ in areas with Madurese, ‘Great Dayak’ in Dayak areas. For more on Dutch policy during the nationalist revolution, see: (Kahin 1952, 351-390).  46  Indonesian political institutions The evolution of Indonesia’s party system has been affected by the institutional context. The introduction of direct presidential elections encouraged the entrance of new partisan actors. Electoral laws have ensured only certain types of parties make it to the ballot. In this section I describe the evolution of Indonesia’s electoral laws and its system of executive-legislative relations. First, I trace the origins of Indonesia’s current presidential system back to its founding constitutional document. In discussing the evolution of executive-legislative powers, I briefly touch on the rise and fall of Indonesia’s past regimes. Second, I provide a detailed description of Indonesia’s electoral system. I give close attention to three underlying trends in electoral reform: 1) increasingly stringent party system nationalization laws; 2) efforts to curb the number of parties; 3) reforms to improve constituent-legislator connections.  Executive-legislative structure Constitutional continuity and regime change: From Independence to the New Order Indonesia is one of the few countries to shift from presidentialism to parliamentarism and back again. The country’s first constitution, Undang-Undang Dasar 1945 (UUD ’45, Basic Laws of 1945), was written under the aegis of a sympathetic Japanese military. UUD ’45 granted wide powers to the executive and created a weak legislative branch. Politically, the office of the executive was largely crafted to accommodate Sukarno, the revolutionary leader and symbol of the new Indonesian nation. The president was to be selected every five years by a supra-legislative body known as the People’s Consultative Assembly (Majelis Permusyawaratan Raykat, MPR). The MPR was to be composed of members of the national legislature, known as the People’s Representative Council (Dewan Perwakilian Rakyat, DPR), as well as appointed representatives from regional and societal groups. Despite being selected by the MPR, the president was not accountable to any legislative body. The final document remained ambiguous, setting up an executive structure that has been called “presidential with parliamentary characteristics” (McIntyre 2005, 6).48 48  Beyond assigning powers to the different branches of government, the constitutional preamble in UUD ‘45 established Pancasila as the official national ideology. Pancasila (Sanskirt for ‘five principles’)  47 The return of Dutch colonial troops and the need to gain international recognition shifted the balance of power within Indonesian political society. Political momentum fell to the loosely connected of youth groups (pemuda) who had resisted the Japanese and were bent on confronting the Dutch. These activists successfully pressured the Republic’s leadership to adopt a de-facto parliamentary system in which the cabinet would be accountable to a legislative body. The agreement put in place institutions that would last more than a decade.49 Cabinets in this period rose and fell with the support of the legislative body. Even though elections were not held until 1955, broad partisan representation within the legislature ensured that the parliamentary game was viewed as the legitimate focal point of political life. In 1957, a series of regional rebellions created a crisis that brought down the governing coalition. Sukarno declared a ‘State of War and Siege.’ Following unsuccessful attempts to form a government, Sukarno took the role of formateur on himself and constructed a cabinet that circumvented the power of the legislative parties. The increasingly assertive president then proposed returning to UUD ’45, a move that would substantially increase his formal powers. When the parties would not accede to his demand, he instituted the constitutional change by decree. The experiment with parliamentary governance was brought to an end and Indonesia entered an era of ‘Guided Democracy’ (Demokrasi Terpimpin). Sukarno sought to balance competing forces against each other. Rivalries that positioned the president at the centre of the political spectrum were nurtured. The most precarious strategy involved balancing the increasingly assertive Armed Forces with the growing Indonesian Communist Party (Partai Komunis Indonesia, PKI). In 1965, a coup attempt by armed service personnel with ties to the PKI triggered a violent response by  encompasses a commitment to a series of abstract social and political values, including monotheism, national unity, humanitarianism, deliberation and consensus, and social justice. The emphasis on Pancasila, and the last minute omission of any reference to religious practice, caused controversy among Islamists, who were disappointed the constitution did not oblige Muslims to follow Islamic law. In subsequent years, Islamist politicians would push for constitutional reforms that would enshrine Muslim religious practices. The constitutional conflict between supporters of the relatively secular Pancasila ideology and supporters of Islamic law contributed to the eventual collapse of the democratic regime in the late 1950s. 49 The departure of the Dutch and the unification of Indonesia led to provisional constitutions in 1949 and 1950, though the parliamentary character of the state remained intact.  48 anti-communist forces.50 Sukarno’s ties to the coup leaders implicated him the plot. The military, led by General Suharto, slowly marginalized Sukarno and eventually compelled the president to transfer authority and step down from his post. Notably, the transfer of power took place within the context of UUD ’45, thereby providing a veneer of legality to the slow-moving military takeover. In 1968 Suharto was officially made President, formalizing the authority he had managed to artfully appropriate. During Suharto’s reign, cabinet positions and top military commissions were the focal points of political competition. Competition for positions was analysed through the lens of factional conflict: secular nationalist “red and whites” jostled with conservative Muslim “greens,” Outer Islanders struggled against perceived Javanese supremacy, civilians attempted to expand their power at the expense of the military, and technocrats fought rear-guard battles against Suharto’s cronies. The factions were never organized per se, and high ranking officials played different roles at different times. Like his predecessor, Suharto tacitly encouraged these disputes as they allowed him to divide his potential challengers and tip the balance between different policy views as he saw fit. Despite the occasional appearance of internal division, Suharto went beyond Sukarno in the consolidation of policy-making authority in the office of the executive. The legislature was reduced to a largely symbolic role. Legislator’s fulfilled their assigned role in the pageant and most faithfully followed the “5-Ds”: Datang, duduk, dengar, diam, duit (“Turn up, sit down, listen, shut up, get paid"). By the late 1990s, Suharto and the New Order regime he had created were showing signs of ageing. The long taboo subject of succession was broached with increased frequency. Positions of power were routinely dolled out to family and trusted cronies. Even the pliant opposition parties showed signs of defiance. When the Asian financial crisis hit Indonesia it exposed the weaknesses of Suharto’s regime. For months the President vacillated in his response. His 1998 decision to drastically reduce subsidies on household goods provided the trigger for mass protests aimed at the regime and Suharto himself. Faced with strong outside pressure, key allies abandoned Suharto. In May 1998 Suharto resigned and Jusuf Habibie, the recently installed Vice-President, assumed the position of Presidency and quickly launched a series of democratic reforms. 50  For a concise review of the post-coup conflict, see: (Crouch 1988, 135-157).  49 Constitutional Reform in the Reformasi era 51 In June of 1999 the country held its first free election since 1955 and the process of constitutional reform began shortly thereafter. The early rounds of executive-legislative reforms responded to the perceived failings of the Suharto era. 52 In the first amendment round the presidency was stripped of its right to make law without consent from the DPR, executive office-holding was limited to two-terms, and the president’s pardon and diplomatic rights were curbed. In the second round, the military lost its reserved seats in the DPR, depriving an organization responsible to the executive branch of representation in the legislature. Further reforms eliminated the president’s ‘pocket veto’ and strengthened the DPR’s supervisory powers. Taken together, the first and second amendments made the once weak DPR a centre of considerable power. UUD 45’s vague separation of powers set in place the conditions for a constitutional crisis. By 2000, the recently installed President Abdurrahman Wahid had managed to alienate the legislative coalition that had brought him to power. The president and his legislative rivals launched corruption investigations against each other. Pitched battles over cabinet positions and the appointment of security officials continued for months. After repeated censures and a presidential threat to dissolve the legislature, the MPR finally impeached Wahid in July 2001. Wahid’s impeachment provided the backdrop for further constitutional amendments. Some of the reforms were immediate responses to the crisis. The impeachment process was clarified, providing an expanded role for the new Constitutional Court. The legislature’s separate mandate was also clarified by adding an Article stating that the President could not dissolve the DPR (as Wahid has attempted), and the issue of Vice-Presidential selection in case of vacancy was cleared by explicitly granting this power to the MPR. The process of presidential selection was also reformed. After persistent resistance by the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (Partai Demokrasi Indonesia – Perjuangan, PDIP), the legislature’s largest party, the MPR introduced a direct 51  The use of ‘Reformasi’ here refers to the post-Suharto democratic era. The term can also refer to the social and political movement that spearheaded the transition to democracy. 52 The following account is based on Denny Indrayana’s Indonesian Constitutional Reform 1999-2002: An Evaluation of Constitution-Making in Transition. (Indrayana 2008)  50 presidential contest. Only parties achieving a threshold of support in the legislative election would be permitted to nominate a joint Presidential-Vice Presidential ticket.53 The presidential elections, then, would have to occur after the legislative competition. Aspiring presidential candidates would require legislative allies to even run, creating an incentive for potential candidates to start their own parties. The conditions placed on presidential victory were demanding: a first round victory required a ticket to secure over 50% of the total vote, with a minimum of 20% of the vote in over 50% of the country’s provinces. A run-off ballot would determine the winner in the event that no team reached the demanding threshold. Another outcome of the post-Wahid constitutional reform was the creation of a new legislative body named the Regional Representative’s Council (Dewan Perwakilan Dareah, DPD). The DPD was created with the purpose of strengthening the voice of the ‘regions’ in Jakarta. The new chamber was granted a mix of oversight and advisory powers, though it lacked budgetary authority and was only permitted to submit bills to the DPR pertaining to a limited number of subjects.54 In addition, members of the DPD would sit as representatives in the MPR. Unlike the DPR, which was restricted to representatives with partisan backing, the DPD was to represent ‘individuals.’ 55 The stipulation effectively barred organized partisan campaigns for DPD seats. As Indonesia approached the 2004 elections its executive-legislative structure looked substantially different than it had a mere five years before. UUD ’45, a document that had structured two authoritarian eras, was brought into line with the country’s emerging democratic norms and shorn of its parliamentary characteristics. The removal of non-elected elements from the legislature, the introduction of direct presidential elections, and the creation of a directly president substantially increased the direct control of the voters over the composition of the legislature and executive.  53  Article 6A (2). The threshold for participation was not specified in the amendment. The powers of the DPD are described in Article 22D. The DPD can only submit bills to the DPR that deal directly with issues of regional governance, such as the fiscal balance between the centre and the regions and the formation of new regional governments. On other keys issues like education, religion, and state budgets, the DPD can only advise the DPR and supervise implementation of law. 55 Article 22E (4). 54  51  Electoral systems and party laws All of Indonesia’s legislative elections have taken place under a system of proportional representation. Feith notes that the initial adoption of PR in the 1950s occurred with no serious opposition (1957, 3). Besides the fact that PR was the system most familiar to young nationalists that had studied in the Netherlands, the system no doubt appealed to the multitude of partisan actors unsure of their electoral strength. Experience with a fragmented legislature did prompt some non-partisan actors to re-evaluate the PR system. Plans to move to a single-member district plurality system were formulated prior to the first New Order election while a mixed SMD-P/PR system was proposed by an influential committee in 1998 (Budiardo 2001, 127-131). Nonetheless, the proposals to replace PR never found a partisan champion. The desired ends of electoral system design go beyond achieving a broadly representative legislature and a close approximation of seats to vote share. There are at least three additional goals that have been relevant to electoral system designers: 1) party system nationalization; 2) a moderate number of parties; 3) close legislator-constituent relations. These goals are reflected in electoral and party law and have had an impact on party system evolution. Party system nationalization The Indonesian electoral system design has been shaped by concern for the integrity of the country. During the country’s first stint with parliamentary government there was a rash of regional rebellions.56 Regional concentrations of partisan support were thought to have fuelled the disputes. In particular, the disproportionate strength of Masyumi support in the Outer Islands made the party one of the few tenuous links between Jakarta and the regions.57 When Masyumi was marginalized in the capital, regional feelings were strengthened.58 The situation underlined the danger of a regionally based party system.  56  In most cases the conflicts were not clearly separatist. Rather, they were regionally concentrated revolts against the central government. Both the Darul Islam movement and the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia (Pemerintah Revolusioner Republik Indonesia, PRRI) sought to overthrow or replace the government rather than form breakaway states. In contrast, the uprising in Ambon was explicitly separatist in motivation. 57 Masyumi was an acronym for Majelis Syuro Muslimin Indonesia (Council of Indonesian Muslim Associations). The party forwarded a modernist Islamic platform. 58 Several high ranking members of Masyumi later joined the provisional government set up by the PRRI.  52 Another wave of regional and ethnic conflict swept the country with the fall of Suharto. Separatist movements gathered strength in Aceh and East Timor. Ethnic and religious groups fought in Kalimantan, Central Sulawesi, and the Malukus (Bertrand 2004). Ethnic Chinese found themselves targeted in numerous locations. The violence clearly demonstrated that decades of suppressing conflict with an authoritarian hand had not created a harmonious society. Concern for national integrity manifested itself in regional requirements on partisan organization. Regional requirements were first put in place by Sukarno. Early in the Guided Democracy era, the president forwarded a law that parties had to organize branches in a quarter of all provinces and a quarter of all municipalities, effectively prohibiting regional and ethnic parties (Legge 1961, 224-5). During the New Order party registration was tightly controlled, with authorities allowing for the existence of only three national parties that were required to compete across the country. In the reformasi era a new legal framework for political parties was established by the passing of Law No. 2 of 1999 on Political Parties. Few constraints were placed upon party formation, though nationalist norms were apparent. For instance, Article 3 did include a provision prohibiting parties from endangering the integrity and unity of the nation, while Article 2 (c) required parties to allow all Indonesian citizens the right to become members. While the language indicated an attempt to discourage parties forming along regional and ethnic lines, the enforcement mechanisms were left vague. Law No. 31 of 2002 on Political Parties tightened the rules for party registration. Whereas the 1999 law allowed parties to form with 50 signatories, in 2002 a party would need to demonstrate the ability to organize in 50% of municipalities in 50% of all provinces simply to register.59 Political Party law in 2008 raised the regional requirement to 60% of all provinces.60 Regional requirements were even stricter in general elections laws. In early drafts, all parties participating in the election were required to demonstrate an organizational presence in half of all municipalities in half of all provinces. 61 The requirement  59  Law No. 31/2002, Article 2 (3) Law No. 2 / 2008, Article 3(2) 61 Law No. 3/1999, Article 39 (1) 60  53 effectively prohibited regional parties from competing in even sub-national election. In the face of criticism the government added a transitional provision allowing parties organized in only 1/3 of all provinces to compete in 1999. 62 In 2004 the requirement was raised to 2/3 of all provinces. 63 Regional requirements for either party registration of electoral participation have tightened with each election. It is striking how little opposition existed to such sweeping regional requirements. Reflecting on the issue, Donald Horowitz notes, “The rationale for such a widely distributed support can only be described in terms of a severe allergy to small parties and to regional or ethnic parties” (Horowitz 2001, 140). Even in 1999, the opposition had more to do with fairness for new parties that were only recently granted the right to organize than a concern for regionalist movements (Nasution 2001, 134). The acceptance of such rules indicates the existence of strong nationalist norms at the elite level. Containing Party Numbers Despite Indonesia’s commitment to PR, a system that enables the success of minor parties, the country’s institutional designers have repeatedly tried to curb the number of political competitors. Efforts to contain the number of parties stretch back to Sukarno, who was particularly strident in his criticism the party system. In his famous ‘Bury the Parties’ speech of 1956, Sukarno stated: There is a disease that is sometimes even worse than ethnic and regional feelings! What is this disease, you ask? It is the disease of parties, brothers and sisters! Yes, I will be frank: the disease of parties (Feith and Castles 1970, 81). Parties, according to Sukarno, were self-serving and out of sync with Indonesia’s consensual culture. Their existence created societal discord. Part of the problem, in Sukarno’s view, lay in the sheer number of partisan actors. He stated: As you know, in one of my Independence Day Speeches made more than a year ago, I said I hoped the general elections would be able to restore our party system to health. Remember, at that time I said I hoped the elections would be able to reduce the number of our parties, which at that time stood at thirty, so that there would be just a few parties. This is what I was hoping!...But, look what happened!  62 63  Law No. 3/1999, Article 82. Article 7 (1)  54 After the elections there were even more parties than before, even more. (Feith and Castles 1970, 82-3) Like many political observers in his day, Sukarno linked the problems of governance directly to the perceived excess of parties. He also took action, banning parties and introducing strict party registration requirements. Sukarno’s critique of the party system was picked up by Suharto during the New Order. For Suharto, partisan conflict created unnecessary confusion. There was only one valid political goal – development – and there could only be minor differences in how to achieve the goal. The President used a transportation analogy to explain his logic: [W]ith the one and only road there, why must we have so many cars, as many as nine? Why must we have wild speeding collisions?...It is not necessary to have so many vehicles. But it is not necessary to have only one. Two or three is fine. (Elson 2001, 189) In order to simplify the system, the regime forced the merger of all existing parties into three camps (nationalist, spiritual, functional) representing different aspects of Suharto’s vision of the developmentalist agenda (Elson 2001, 190) The persistent concern with an excessive number of parties carried into the reformasi era. The proportional system, combined with a loose party registration process, opened the door for party system fragmentation. The decision to open up the electoral competition to a multitude of actors was deliberate. After 35 years of controlled elections there was a strong demand for substantial liberalization. Yet even during the transition period the institutional designers were putting in place laws that would consolidate the party system of the future. Specifically, Law No. 2/1999 ensured that parties not reaching a threshold of 2% of national seats in 1999 were barred from participation in the 2004 election.64 The party registration threshold created pressure on the minor parties to combine their efforts or drop out altogether. In 2003, the party registration threshold was raised from 2% of all seats to 3%.65 Institutional designers changed tactics in the run up to 2008. A new legislative threshold was introduced barring parties receiving less than 2.5% of the national vote  64  See Law No.3/1999, Article 39 (3). Parties were also permitted to run if they received 3% of all provincial seats or 4% of all municipal seats in 50% of all provinces or municipalities. 65 Law No. 12/2003, Article 9 (1a)  55 from seating legislators.66 As a concession to the minor parties, the restrictions on party participation were eased. Whereas the law of 2003 stipulated that only parties that received 3% of the seats in the national legislature had the right to participate in the next election, the 2008 law opened competition to all those receiving at least 1 seat in 2004. 67 Nonetheless, the loophole was specifically written to only apply to one election and the participation restrictions from 2003 were otherwise left in place. Legislative and party registration thresholds were not the only pressures placed on minor parties. Electoral district reform reduced the probability minor parties would win legislative seats. In 1999, provinces were allocated a certain number of seats and electoral districts followed provincial boundaries. Consequently, large provinces had high district magnitudes. The allocation of seats in these districts closely matched the distribution of votes, thereby benefitting minor parties. In 2003, the electoral law prevented an electoral district from exceeding 12 seats.68 Though the law was reportedly written to close the gap between legislators and constituents, the large parties were no doubt aware of the advantage provided by small district size.69 Prior to the 2009 election the maximum number of seats in a district was lowered from 12 to 10. 70 In sum: Since the parliamentary era of the 1950s there has been a deep-seated aversion for party system fragmentation. The preference for a moderate number of parties sits uneasily with the national commitment to proportional representation. Nonetheless, there have been numerous reforms to party and elections laws designed to pare back the number of parties. Party registration rules, a legislative threshold, and shrinking districts are all consistent with a desire to prevent an excess of parties.  66  Law No. 10/2008, Article 202 (1) Law No. 10/2008, Article 316 (d) 68 Law No. 12/2003, Article 46 (2) 69 The issue of large party advantage was addressed in both the popular press and KPU news releases. See Kompas August 16 2003, “Small-Medium Parties will be ended by the veiled threshold” [Parpol KecilMenengah Akan Habis oleh “Threshold“ Terselubung]; January 8 2004, “The 2004 Election: Death Knell for Small Parties” [Pemilu 2004: Lonceng Kematian Partai Kecil]; KPU, “The Electoral System According to Law 12. of 2003” [Sistem Pemilu Menurut No. 12. Tahun 2003]. 70 Law No. 10/2008, Article 22 (2) 67  56 Improving legislator-constituent ties A third stream of institutional reforms involves efforts to increase legislator accountability to his/her constituents. In 1955, Indonesia’s first electoral system offered literate voters a chance to cast a preference vote by writing in the name of a candidate from a party’s candidate list. This minimal amount of control was lost during Suharto era elections. New Order officials closely screened candidates to ensure criticism of the regime would be restrained. Candidates for office achieved their spots due to party loyalty and network connections. Many candidates ran in districts in which they had no meaningful connections. Since the transition, reformers have searched for ways to close the perceived legislator-constituent gap. The first method, used in the 1999 election, injected a measure of plurality competition into the over-arching framework of PR. Each candidate nominated within an electoral district would be assigned a municipal unit. Parties were to allocate their seats to the candidates from the municipalities in which they had their strongest electoral performances. This was meant to provide an incentive for candidates to cultivate a local vote, thereby strengthening bonds between eventual legislators and their constituents. Party leaders, however, found innovative ways to circumvent the system and the plurality aspect did not have a serious impact on the allocation of seats.71 The innovative but ineffective system of seat allocation was replaced with a ‘flexible’ list system in 2004. Voters were provided with the option of casting a preference vote for a particular candidate on a party’s list. Candidates achieving a quota would receive a seat.72 In theory this provided voters a measure of control over their elected official. The quota, however, proved an unrealistically high bar for candidates to leap. 71  Manipulation occurred through several means. The electoral law did not clearly specify whether performance in a municipality would be determined by percentage of vote won or absolute number of votes attained. Electoral authorities allowed party leaders to choose the interpretation they most preferred. In addition, party leaders and electoral authorities agreed not to apply the malleable performance based criteria to seats that parties had acquired through the “largest remainder” round of seat allocation. Further requests by parties for post-hoc changes to seat allocation occurred at the discretion of the electoral authorities, particularly when it involved the allocation of seats to prominent party officials. An estimated 21% of seated legislators represented municipalities entirely different from that which they had originally been assigned (National Democratic Institute 1999). For more on the system and its application, see: (Crouch 2010, 49; D. Y. King 2003, 90-91; O’Rourke 2002, 199-200). 72 Quota being total votes in a district divided by total seats.  57 In 2008, The Law on General Elections also lowered the percentage of preference votes required to secure a seat, from 100% of quota to 30%. In the lead up to election, several large parties saw advantage in a pledge to allocate their seats based purely on preference votes. Candidates took the issue of seat allocation to the Constitutional Court, which ruled that all seats were to be distributed to those candidates receiving the most votes. As a result of the Court’s decision, Indonesia’s 2009 election would be an open list contest, with co-partisans competing for intra-party preference votes. In sum: since the fall of Suharto, institutional designers in Indonesia have made a series of electoral system reforms designed to prevent the emergence of regional parties, reduce the number of partisan competitors, and improve legislator-constituent ties. Whether these reforms were enacted sincerely for the public good or cynically for partisan gain is less important to the dissertation than simply establishing the empirical trends. These reforms have had a direct impact party organization and electoral campaigns.  Indonesian party system: past and present The partisan actors After close to 30 years of stability under Suharto, Indonesia’s party system has evolved considerably in the Reformasi era. Most notably, the party system has experienced an expansion in the number of actors. This is not entirely clear simply by looking at the raw number of competitors. From 3 parties in 1997 (the last New Order election), the number of registered parties with ballot access jumped to 48 in 1999. It shrunk by half, to 24, in 2004. In 2009, there were 38 national competitors on the national ballot. The numerical ups and downs reflect a number of factors, from the explosion and waning of enthusiasm for the democratic process, the unsteady enforcement of electoral regulations, and the alterations to electoral laws.73 73  Given the stringent regional requirements, it is remarkable that so many parties achieve ballot access. In most cases, new parties are founded by activists who had previously worked together in an organization with a national scope. Pre-existing networks provide party founders with the local connections required to set up party offices in remote locations across the archipelago. Common organizational origins include preexisting political parties, government institutions (most often the military), and religious bodies. Even parties formed to support the ambitions of an aspiring president typically have strong roots in one or more pre-existing national organizations.  58 The raw number of parties only tells part of the story however. One major noteworthy trend is that the major parties have become smaller over time. In 1999, the three largest parties won 68.8% of the vote; in 2009 they won 49.3%. The loss of votes for the largest parties produced an expansion in the medium-sized actors. Whereas commentators talked of the ‘Big-5’ in 1999, the category was expanded to the ‘Big-7’ in 2004 and by 2009 it made sense to distinguish between the 9 parties that crossed the legislative threshold from the 29 that did not. 74 Describing all of the competitors in Indonesia is beyond the scope of this project. It is, however, useful to familiarize the reader with the major parties as discussion of these actors occurs frequently throughout the dissertation. Thankfully, there has been considerably continuity through time making is possible to precede chronologically. Table 3 – Major party performance Party PDI-P Golkar PKB PPP PAN PKS PD Gerindra Hanura  % of National Electoral Vote 1999 2004 33.7 18.5 22.4 21.6 12.6 10.6 10.7 8.2 7.1 6.4 [1.4]* 7.3 7.5  Top 5 Parties Top 7 Parties Top 9 Parties  86.6 89.9 91.5  66.3 80.0 85.1  2009 14.0 14.4 4.9 5.3 6.0 7.9 20.8 4.5 3.8 63.2 73.5 81.7  *In 1999, Partai Keadilan Sejahtera ran as Partai Keadilan.  In 1999, the ‘Big-5’ consisted of three authoritarian era parties and two new actors that sprung up to represent major religious organizations. With 34% of the vote, PDI-P was the clear winner of 1999. PDI-P is an offshoot of the New Order’s Indonesian Democratic Party (Partai Demokrasi Indonesia, PDI) and the heir of Sukarno’s PNI. Led by Sukarno’s daughter Megawati Sukarnoputri, the party’s voter base remains similar to the old PNI: secular Javanese and religious minorities. 74  The cut-off point is subjective and varies by author. Inclusion in the major party discourse at least in part reflects ex ante performance expectations of the pollsters.  59 Golkar, the incumbent party, managed to pick up 22% of the vote in 1999. Golkar had been Suharto’s party of hegemonic control. Throughout the New Order it was dominated by military personnel and bureaucrats. In 1999 it was particularly strong in Eastern Indonesia, where the bureaucracy played a particularly large role in the economic life of the citizens. Though officially a secular nationalist party, the National Awakening Party (Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa, PKB) was originally built on the back of the religious organization Nahdlatul Ulama. The party was closely associated with its charismatic and mercurial leader Abdurrahman Wahid, who managed to have himself selected president in 1999. PKB picked up 13% of the vote nationally. In 1999, PKB’s voting base looked remarkably similar to that of the Nahdlatul Ulama (Revival of Islamic Scholars, NU) party of the 1950s, with strong support coming from traditionalist Javanese and Madurese. The United Development Party (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan, PPP) earned 11% of the vote. PPP had been the New Order’s officially sanctioned Islam-oriented party. Hamzah Haz, the leader of the party in 1999, was an NU affiliated Malay from West Kalimantan. Haz’s eclectic background reflected PPP’s diverse religious and ethnic base. Despite the ability to appeal to a wide range of Muslim groups, PPP tended to perform strongest in the non-Javanese, modernist leaning areas. Like PKB, the National Mandate Party (Partai Amanat Nasional, PAN) is an officially nationalist party that relies on an established religious movement for organizational strength, in this case Muhammadiya. PAN’s leader in 1999, Amien Rais, was the former head of Muhammadiya and a prominent figure in the anti-Suharto protests. Despite Rais’s presidential aspirations, PAN only managed to win 7% of the vote. The party tended to do well among educated Muslims in urban centres. The 2004 election saw the ‘Big-5’ expand to the ‘Big-7’. The Democratic Party (Partai Demokrat, PD), formed only two years before the election, garnered 7% of the vote in 2004. The success of the ideologically non-offensive party is almost entirely attributable to its close association with popular presidential candidate Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (SBY). Requiring a legislative faction to endorse his eventual presidential run, the popular former general encouraged his allies to form a party that could support  60 his ambitions.75 PD achieved its largest breakthroughs in urban centres, suggesting a middle-class basis. The Prosperous Justice Party (Partai Keadilan Sejahtera, PKS) was the other breakthrough success story of 2004. PKS had competed in 1999 under the name Justice Party (Party Keadilan, PK) but was forced to change names and re-register due to poor performance (less than 2% of the electoral vote). In 2004, the party gained 7% of the vote. Although the party was formed by Islamist students, the party’s success in 2004 was attributed to its strong anti-corruption message. Similar to PD, PKS had its largest breakthroughs in Java-based urban centres. Two more new players were added in 2009. Both were similar in form to SBY’s PD in that they were both founded to support presidential runs. The Greater Indonesia Movement Party (Partai Gerakan Indonesia Raya, Gerindra) was founded to support the political aspirations of Prabowo Subianto. A former special forces general and son-in-law to Suharto, Prabowo funded the party with his wealthy brother’s money. Gerindra promotes itself as a defender of the agricultural sector and a critic of ‘neo-lib’ economic policies. In 2009, the party gained 5% of the electoral vote. Support for the party was remarkably consistent across the country. The other new contender was the People's Conscience Party (Partai Hati Nurani Rakyat, Partai Hanura). Hanura formed to support the presidential ambitions of former general Wiranto. Wiranto had previously run as the presidential candidate for Golkar in 2004 but was disappointed in the lackluster support he received during his campaign. Determined to build his own brand, Wiranto ditched Golkar and established Hanura. The party finished with 4% of the electoral vote, no doubt a disappointment but still high enough to allow the party to seat its legislators. While new parties have managed to establish themselves as key players, no major party from 1999 has descended into the relative obscurity of the minor gurem (chickenflea) parties. PPP, PAN, and PKB limp on, supported in part by their access to cabinet posts. Golkar and PDI-P have both experienced multiple party fractures which have eaten  75  SBY also played a behind the scenes role in the formation PPDK in 2002, though the leader of the party eventually severed relations due to SBY’s non-committal attitude (Mietzner 2009, 238).  61 away at their support bases, yet both still remain large by Indonesian standards. There has, in short, been remarkable consistency to the evolution Indonesian party system. In focusing on the major players, this description of the Indonesian parties has followed the conventional wisdom of party system change. Lost in the discussion is the remarkable expansion of the gurem vote. In 2009, the parties with no legislative representation attracted a percentage of the electoral vote (18.3), comparable to that of the country’s largest party. Though sometimes these parties have distinct ideological niches, the expansion of the gurem vote is best understood in the context of local dynamics. This dissertation will argue that gurem success has been a key factor behind party system expansion. So while the gurem typically attain minimal attention, they will become important players later in the dissertation.  Parties and cleavage structure Aliran Now? The most common interpretation of the Indonesian political cleavages traces the divisions between parties back to broad societal divisions referred to as aliran, or streams. In its most basic form, aliran refers to the distinction between the devout Muslim santri and the religiously eclectic abangan. The two categories can be specified further, with the santri divided between traditionalist and modernist approaches to Islam and the abangan divided between those adhering to Javanese folk religion and those aristocratic priyayi elements which maintain a Hindu-Buddhist worldview. Each aliran group has its own distinct set of social and political organizations. Thus in 1955, each of the four large parties could be linked to a major socio-cultural grouping known as aliran.76 Several analysts highlight the similarity between the 1955 and 1999 election (King 2002, Lanti 2004). The comparison is particularly apt in the Javanese heartland. PDI-P, led by Sukarno’s own daughter, picked up support in former PNI areas. PKB, built on the foundations of the Nahdlatul Ulama religious organization and led by the organizations former head, fared well in those areas the NU party scored victories in 1955. Additionally, Amien Rais, the former head of the modernist organization  76  The four major parties and corresponding aliran groups were: 1) Priyayi: PNI; 2) Abangan: PKI; 3) Modernist santri: Masyumi; 3) Traditionalist santri: NU.  62 Muhammadiya, launched a party that did well amongst modernist voters. To many it seemed as though politik aliran had returned. Yet considerable differences exist. The intense conflicts between abangan and santri that characterized politics in the 1950s gave way to a more moderate form of competition at the turn of the 21 st century.77 First, the election did not produce a clear successor to Masyumi. Devout Muslims in the Outer Islands supported a range of parties with a variety of positions on religious issues. Second, Intra-abangan competition could not easily be mapped onto the system. In particular, the existence Golkar, with its vague development ideology, appealed to both religious and non-religious voters and did not fit neatly into an aliran based reading of Indonesian politics. The party system de-aliranzation continued in 2004 and 2009. Three of the major players to emerge in this period – PD, Gerindra, and Hanura – can best be described as ‘secular nationalist’ parties that can appeal to devout and non-devout voters (Mujani & Liddle 2010, 36).78 As Tanuwidjaja (2010) points out, nationalist and Muslim parties have consciously tracked to the centre of the religious spectrum. For example, PDI-P formed a Muslim sub-organization and many of the major Muslim parties (PKS, PKB, PAN) have made efforts to recruit non-Muslims. The de-aliranization of Indonesian politics has, in part, been the consequence of institutional change. Liddle and Mujani (2007) find that voter leadership preferences drove partisan choices in all three post-Suharto elections. The leadership factor was no doubt enhanced by the shift to direct presidential elections, which has increased the incentive to run a broad-based legislative campaign. The three electorally successful parties formed after 1999 (PD, Gerindra, and Hanura) were all launched to support a candidate’s presidential ambitions (Yudhoyono, Prabowo, and Wiranto, respectively). In terms of policy positioning, little difference exists between the new presidential vehicles  77  Tracing the societal decline of aliran division is beyond the boundaries of the project. Two major factors are the general rise of personal piety and the triumph of constitutional secularism, both of which had their roots in the New Order. Suharto’s regime used religious education as an inoculation against communism, but the form of Islam that was propagated was private and conducive to the nationalist framework. At the time of transition the median voter was both pious and unenthused by calls the Islamic State. For more on santrification and de-aliranization, see: (Tanuwidjaja 2010; Ufen 2008). 78 Tanuwidjaja (2010, 32) prefers ‘secular inclusive’ for PD, a label that indicates the party’s open attitude toward religious voters.  63 and Golkar. The parties are designed to be non-offensive structures to support the politics of a broadly appealing president. But the effect of presidentialism is not limited to the rise of just these three parties. Less successful presidential aspirants, including Rachmawati Soekarnoputri, Lt. General M Yasin, Dr. Sjahrir, and Suharto’s daughter Siti Hardiyanti Rukmana (aka “Tutut”), all launched parties to support their presidential ambitions. 79 In the case of the United National Democracy Party (Partai Persatuan Demokrasi Kebangsaan, PPDK), the founders began the party with the implicit understanding that the SBY, then an aspiring president, would eventually endorse it as his presidential vehicle. In other cases, parties formed with hopes of winning the support of a well known potential presidential candidate. For instance, the Prosperous Indonesia Party (Partai Indonesia Sejahtera, PIS) proclaimed their support for former Jakarta Governor Sutiyoso, while the Archipelago Republic Party (Partai Republik Nusantara, PRN) courted a public endorsement from the Sultan of Yogyakarta.80 The knock-on effect of party system presidentialization has been the reduced saliency of socio-economic differences. Two other factors that have increased the importance of personality relative to platform include electoral system change and direct executive elections at the local level. Electoral system reforms designed to tighten legislator-constituent linkages have increased the importance of individual candidates in the legislative campaign. Partisan symbols have taken a back seat to candidate posters and party machines have been replaced by the candidate-centered ‘team success.’ At the sub-national level, direct executive elections hastened the erosion of partisan brands. Ambitious politicians now regularly hop between party labels. Though de-aliranization has occurred, the cleavage has not been entirely eliminated. The residue of aliran remains, both in party units and voting behaviour. A 79  Respectively, the Pioneers Party (Partai Pelopor, PP), Functional Party of Struggle (Partai Karya Perjuangan, PKP), the New Indonesia Alliance Party (Partai Perhimpunan Indonesia Baru, PPIB), and the Concern for the Nation Function Party (Partai Karya Peduli Bangsa, PKPB) Arguably this is not a complete list. In some cases it is difficult to determine if the party’s principal patron held presidential ambitions before starting the party. For instance, Adi Sasono’s presidential ambitions were known but not publically proclaimed before he formed the ideologically non-offensive Freedom Party (Partai Merdeka). Eros Djarot, whose power struggle with Megawati prompted him to leave PDI-P, may have launched the Freedom Bull National Party simply to support his eventual presidential candidacy. 80 In both cases, party posters frequently carried the image of the candidate they planned to support, despite the lack of endorsement offered by the potential candidate himself.  64 traditionalist santri looking to vote for a religious party is still most likely to choose a traditionalist santri party over a modernist party, while a similarly devout modernist voters are more likely to choose a modernist option. The fact that these religious options exist and that voters in the same aliran family are more likely to circulate within a predictable range remains important. Still, the explanatory power of the aliran lens has declined. It cannot account for recent party system changes, except in the sense that the decline of aliran helps explain some of the free-wheeling electoral behaviour since 1999. Party Politics and Ethnicity Indonesia’s contemporary party system is not ‘ethnic’ in that party platforms and campaigns do not exclude sections of the electorate on the basis of suku bangsa. This has not always been the case. In 1955, the ethnically based Dayak Party (Partai Dayak) did well in West and Central Kalimantan. Likewise, the Awakening of the Simalungun People of East Sumatra (Kebangunan Rakyat Simalungun Sumatera Timur, KRSST) represented suku Simalangun in North Sumatra. Lax registration rules in 1999 allowed a few parties to participate that could be classified as ‘ethnic.’ The Unity in Diversity Party (Partai Bhinneka Tunggal Ika Indonesia, PBI) was widely viewed as a Chinese political party while the Father of the Orphans Party (Partai Abulyatama, PAY) was organized by Acehnese activists. Enforcement of strict regional organization requirements has since eliminated these borderline ethnic parties at the national and sub-national levels.81 Even though explicitly ethnic parties do not exist, ethnicity does directly affect voter behaviour. One mechanism involves the support for parties whose leadership candidates are viewed as co-ethnics. Thus Balinese identification with Megawati led to PDI-P support, Habibie lifted Partai Golkar among the Buginese, and Yusril Ihza Mahendra’s appeal among Melayu Belitung boosted the Crescent Star Party (Partai  81  The one exception to this rule has been Aceh, where in 2005 separatist rebels and national officials signed the Helsinki Agreement which provided the province of Aceh with an expanded form of political autonomy. Local parties were permitted to organize and compete for sub-national offices provided they meet proscribed organizational thresholds. In 2009, six local parties competed for sub-national legislative seats. All six local parties contained the term “Aceh” in their official name and the use of ethnic symbolism was prominent in campaign material. For more on Aceh’s political regulations and parties, see: (Barter 2011; International Crisis Group 2008).  65 Bulan Bintang, PBB) in Belitung.82 Preference for native sons (putra daerah) in leadership positions does exist, but it can be idiosyncratic. For example, it is hard to say the leadership of Batak Akbar Tandjung had any effect on Golkar’s fortunes in his home area of North Sumatra.83 As well, the limited number of visible leadership positions means only a few direct connections will exist between the party leader and a specific group or region. A pattern of voting for co-ethnic party leaders exists in a few cases, but the weight of the effect is hardly enough to determine large scale party system dynamics. Suryadinata et al. (2004) present the split between Javanese and non-Javanese as societal cleavage strongly shaping party preferences. This reading of Indonesian politics can be traced back to 1955, when three of the four major parties drew their votes largely from Javanese voter base (PNI, PKI, and NU). The same can be said of two of the successor parties (PDI-P and PKB) in the Reformasi era. Yet despite roots in the Javanese heartland, PDI-P and PKB do not promote themselves as exclusive parties and have often found success in non-Javanese areas. PDI-P, for instance, performs particularly well among non-Muslim ethnic minorities. Some of PKB’s strongest support has come from areas dominated by ethnic Madurese and the party has demonstrated its capacity to compete in non-Javanese areas.84 Parties vary in their reliance on Javanese voters but no major party is exclusive to that voting bloc. 85 The non-ethnic orientation of Indonesia’s political parties at the national level may not be replicated sub-nationally. Liddle (1970) uncovered the ethnic bases of subnational party competition during the parliamentary era. In multi-ethnic contexts of 82  Habibie is Buginese, and Mahendra is a native of Belitung. Though widely perceived as Javanese, Megawati’s Balinese grandmother provides a link to the island. This tenuous connection was no doubt strengthened by Islamist attacks labelling Megawati a Hindu. 83 Tandjung’s case shows the connection between leader and co-ethnics depends partially on selfpresentation. Tandjung, married to a Javanese woman, tended to ally with Javanese politicians thrived in the world of Javanese politics (Tomsa 2006, 4). His ethnic ambiguity goes some way to explaining why he did not inspire the same type of co-ethnic loyalty engendered by rival leaders. 84 NU associated parties have a tradition of performing well in ethnic Banajerse areas, with PKB picking up at least one national seat in South Kalimantan in each election since 1999. In 2009 the party’s fifth highest vote total came from Maluku, a province with scarce few Javanese voters. In that case, the conditions for the PKB surge were put in place when the party nominated the wife of a prominent local official. 85 The same could be said of leadership positions of the parties mentioned above. PKB’s leadership tends to come from East Java’s eastern coast (‘tapal kuda’), a mixed Javanese and Madurese areas, which makes it multi-ethnic though not regionally representative. Megawati is considered Javanese, though her PDI-P has consciously included non-Javanese from the Outer Islands, like former Secretary General Alexander Litaay, in strong leadership positions. In addition, Palembang born Taufik Kiemas, Megawati’s husband, serves as both the head of the MPR and the party’s chief deal-makers,  66 Simalungun and Pematang Siantar, parties had distinct ethnic support groups: North Tapanulli Batak supported Parkindo, South Tapanulli Batak Masyumi, while the Javanese tended to support either PNI or PKI. Relying on Liddle’s description, Horowitz categorizes Indonesia’s party system in the 1950s as non-ethnic nationally but ethnic at the local level (Horowitz 1985, 301-2). In later chapters I will rigorously examine the hypothesis that local party systems simply reflect local ethnic competition.  Gotong Royong and the power sharing tradition Discussion of party systems thus far has focused on particular actors and cleavage structures. Another important element of party system structure involves the interaction between parties in the legislature and cabinet. While parties compete at the polls, their relationships in the legislature are cordial to the point of collusion. Indonesian cabinets are routinely over-sized. Even parties ostensibly in the opposition maintain friendly relations with the government, especially when there are spoils to be divided. In this subsection I trace the historical practice of Indonesia’s power-sharing tradition. Post-Independence Indonesia contained elements of both political polarization and power sharing. At the national level, cabinet coalitions contained ministers drawn from numerous parties, though important exclusions always existed. Parliamentary politics had its duelling poles in Masyumi and PNI, both of which led cabinets that excluded one another. It also had its cordon sanitaire in the form of PKI exclusion from cabinet. Cabinet politics, in other words, had winners and losers. The same could not be said of sub-national politics. Coalitions at the local level did not reflect always reflect national level cleavages and consensus based decisionmaking was the prevalent norm. Legge (1961) forwards two factors explaining subnational cooperation. First, it accorded with deeply held norms of deliberation, consensus and mutual help. Second, sub-national politics were weighted toward the provision of local patronage, thus making it easier to cooperate with national-level rivals. Thus Legge found that Indonesia’s large sub-national coalitions had both a cultural and an instrumental logic. Sukarno desired power sharing at the national level. In his view, “50%+1” democracy was a foreign invention unsuited for the Indonesian context. To justify his  67 power sharing vision, Sukarno connected over-sized cabinets to cultural norms of mutual assistance: Let us form a Gotong Royong Cabinet. I expressly use the term gotong royong because this is an authentic Indonesian term which provides us with the purest likeness of the Indonesian spirit. The cabinet should include all political parties and groups represented in parliament which have obtained a certain quotient of votes in the election. (Feith and Castles 1970, 82-385) The initial effort was opposed by the religious parties. Masyumi and, to a lesser extent, NU refused to sit in government with the PKI, a party they viewed as atheist. Sukarno, however, saw the political tides were turning against the parties. He introduced the ‘Nasakom’ concept, a proposal for coalition encompassing the major nationalist (PNI), religious (NU) and communist (PKI) parties. 86 Though Sukarno never managed to win over a sceptical Army on the merits of PKI participation, his effort to bridge seemingly incongruent ideologies was a forerunner of coalition politics in the Reformasi era. Sukarno liked the symbolism of power sharing more than he liked the practice. His preference for power sharing symbolism did not rub off on Suharto, though his aversion to opposition did. During the New Order, cabinet posts were assigned only to members of the Golkar family. Despite his exclusion of PPP and PDI from cabinet, Suharto made it clear the legislature was not to function in terms of a governmentopposition dynamic (Elson 2001, 189). Non-Golkar parties occasionally voiced criticism of specific efforts and the voting public came to treat them as opposition parties, but they tended to cooperate within the legislature. 87 The regime rewarded them with subsides to continue their operations. The transition to democracy ushered in a new period of power sharing politics. Wahid’s initial “National Unity” cabinet contained representatives from all the major parties and many of the minor ones. When he alienated his partners by dismissing politically sensitive cabinet ministers, the broad coalition that put him in power replaced him with Megawati. Megawati formed a Gotong Royong cabinet that included members  86  ‘Nasakom’ is an acronym for the ideological streams Sukarno was trying to include (Nasionalisme, Agama, Komunisme). 87 Legislators from the armed forces claimed to be more willing to challenge state policy than the opposition parties (Ziegenhaim 2008, 51).  68 from the five major parties, including politicians from PKB, the party of recently ousted Wahid. After SBY replaced Megawati in 2004, he brought all major parties but the PDI-P into his United Indonesia cabinet. Following the 2009 election the list of excluded parties grew to include Gerindra and Hanura. Yet the growth of excluded parties does not indicate a polarizing political climate. Members of the ‘opposition’ frequently find themselves in negotiation about cabinet entrance and the government maintains cordial relations through the distribution of important legislative posts. 88 Signs of a similar power sharing dynamic can be observed at the local level. Local legislatures are frequently characterized by broad cross-party coalitions.89 Party alliances created for the purpose of electing municipal leaders rarely follow an ideological logic; the Islamist PKS can be found in alliances with the secularist PDI-P and the Christian Prosperous Peace Party (Partai Damai Sejahtera, PDS). Executive elections do provide a level of conflict and a distinction between winners and losers. Yet when it comes to skimming the budget coalitions are not simply ideologically incoherent but near universal in scope. In sum: Each election has witnessed the rise of new medium sized players, though the total vote collected by the large parties has declined over time. The importance of Indonesia’s traditional aliran cleavage structure has declined over time. While the existing parties have a non-ethnic basis, there is evidence of both long-term and leadership driven patterns of ethnic voting. Lastly, Indonesia’s power sharing tradition has re-emerged in the reformasi era.  Rent opportunities and decentralization A central claim of the dissertation is that local rent opportunities affect party system outcomes. Potential access to local spoils influence the likelihood an elite will enter the political realm, the choice of party affiliation, and the method of campaigning. But this raises several questions: Why are local rents important in Indonesia? How can they be 88  A prime example was the installation of prominent PDI-P figure Taufik Kiemas to the position of Speaker of the MPR. The governing coalition, with a large majority in the national legislature, could have easily held the post if it was inclined to do so. 89 On sub-national dynamics, see: (Slater 2004. 63; Ufen 2008, 31).  69 measured? And why do they correlate with ethnic diversity? Before exploring rent opportunities, however, the more immediate questions of why and how Indonesia decentralized authority to sub-national units must be addresses.  Decentralizing Indonesia ‘The big bang’ Independent Indonesia has struggled to find the right balance between the centre and regional governments. In the 1950s Indonesia experimented with decentralization program and, much to the chagrin of the centre, occasionally transferred de-facto authority to regionalist movements. Overall, though, the trend during the Sukarno era was toward greater centralization, in law if not always in practice. The centralizing tendencies of Sukarno’s Guided Democracy regime were entrenched during Suharto’s New Order, with early economic reforms strengthening the fiscal powers of the central authorities (Anderson 1983, 488-490). Whereas corruption during the post-independence period had been party organized (outside of the military), frequently decentralized, and often chaotic, Suharto sought to centralize and streamline state corruption. A complex pyramid of corruption was created, and Suharto sat at the very top. Governance was accomplished through payoffs and kick-backs, with each level of the pyramid making sure to payoff their superiors. The patronage structure ensured that a large group of administrators were loyal to Suharto and that the business of corruption was conducted in an orderly manner. The fall of Suharto opened the door to the possibility of significant change in centre-periphery relations. During the period surrounding Suharto’s fall numerous regions erupted in violence as societal forces jostled for power in a new system. In the capital there was fear that the country was coming apart at the seams. Decentralization was grasped as a tool to fulfill a demand for change in the regions and head off separatist sentiment. It also happened to be part of the broader international zeitgeist of ‘good governance’ that prevailed in the late 1990s and international organizations were involved in discussions with the crafters of the decentralization law. 90  90  This being said, the group tasked with writing the law (‘Tim tujuh’ or ‘Team of Seven’) were committed to decentralization independent of any prodding by the international donor community (Turner et al. 2003, 5-6).  70 Laws 22/1999 and 25/1999 constitute the two fundamental pieces of the reform package, which Turner and Podger refer to as “the most radical decentralisation measures in Asia and the Pacific” (Turner et al. 2003, xii). Law 22 sorts out the power relationships between the municipal, provincial, and national levels of government. In an unusual move, the authors of Indonesia’s laws bypassed the provincial level governments and transferred to municipalities wide powers over all but five areas specifically reserved for the national level.91 In transferring power to municipalities rather than provinces the central government hoped to gain the support of local leaders without empowering provincial administrations that may quietly yearn for separation. Whereas municipalities were previously sub-ordinate to provinces, the vertical chain of command was reformed and provinces became mere assistants to the municipal and national governments. Importantly, sub-national units were given the right to select their own leaders free of interference from higher levels.92 Law 25 gave sub-national units the right to expand their own tax base and keep a greater share of the revenue from natural resource extraction. Funding of municipalities was to be done through transfer payments, known as General Allocation Funds (Dana Alokasi Umum, or DAU) and Special Allocation Funds (Dana Alokasi Khasus, or DAK).93 In effect, the national government would collect and disburse funds to the local government with few strings attached. 94 The extent of the decentralization program and its occasionally messy implementation caused concern in Jakarta. An additional series of reforms in 2004 curbed a few of the perceived excesses. Mirroring reforms at the national level, municipal executives were given their own elected mandate and the legislature’s right to dismiss the  91  These included foreign affairs, defence and security, justice, religion, and monetary/fiscal affairs. During the New Order, the central government played the leading role in the selection of provincial governors, while the governors were the key actors in the selection municipal executives. 93 DAU constitute the largest component of direct transfers (approximately 85-90%). The central government is obligated to disburse at least 25% of its annual revenue through DAU transfers, which are allocated to sub-national units based on a formulas taking into account population size, geography, construction prices, and other factors. DAK transfers, on the other hand, are targeted at selective project and state priorities. 94 Some municipalities have access to significant internal sources of natural resource revenue. The decentralization law have these resource rich municipalities the right to keep a larger portion of their earnings than they previously had. Most municipalities, however, are dependent upon transfers from the central government. 92  71 executive was substantially curbed. The authorities of both the central and provincial governments were strengthened at the expense of the municipalities. Nonetheless, the financial and legal position of municipal governments remained strong. Decentralizing Corruption Decentralization began with the hope that local accountability would improve governance processes and outcomes. Most observers, however, find that the decentralization of authority was accompanied by the decentralization of corruption (Crouch 2010, 111; Hadiz 2003, 1222; van Klinken and Nordholt 2007, 18; Korte 2011, 22; Malley 2003, 115; Ufen 2008, 32). Whereas the New Order structure of informal politics was top-down and centralized, the transfer of power to sub-national units and the democratization of the regime created a more diffuse pattern of corruption. Hadiz provides a succinct description: While the centralised system no longer exists, its elements have been able to reconstitute themselves in new, more fluid, decentralised and competing networks of patronage. The range of interests now competing at the local level are even more varied than under the New Order. They include ambitious political fixers and entrepreneurs, wily and still-predatory state bureaucrats, and aspiring and newly ascendant business groups, as well as a wide range of political gangsters, thugs, and civilian militia (Hadiz 2003, 124) While decentralization and the fall of Suharto shook the old power structure, New Order elites did not disappear. Rather, they were supplemented with new groups of elites seeking to control valuable offices. To return to the quotable Hadiz, “[A]s in the Philippines following the fall of Marcos, the driving logic of political life in Indonesia remains the ‘quest for rent-seeking’ opportunities through the securing of ‘access to the state apparatus’ for the purposes of private accumulation” (Hadiz 2003, 122) . Not only have sub-national patronage networks fragmented, the substantially increased funds flowing into the municipal governments augments the pay-offs available to local actors. As Shulte Nordholt and van Klinken put it, “Because most regions are subsidized by the centre, regional governments tend to become spending machines” (2007, 17). These ‘transfer rents’ frequently find their way into the private accounts of local political elite. Expanded authority to raise revenue also provides the opportunity to craft local regulations and levy taxes in order to protect friendly businesses and/or increase the local budget for the purpose of looting. Likewise, the transfer of a 2.44  72 million civil servants from central to regional government control provided new opportunities for extortion and patronage. Nothing quite signifies the bonanza of opportunities better than the expansion of new sub-national units. The practice of municipal and provincial creation has taken the name pemekaran, which quite literally means ‘blossoming.’ Between 1998 and 2009 there were 185 new municipalities, an increase of 63%. Added to that, 7 new provinces were created. The over-riding motivation behind pemekaran has been the expanding access to state resources. Each new sub-national unit means buildings that need to be built and offices that need to be filled. Given that revenue comes in the form of transfer payments, the cost of a new municipality is largely borne by the national government. The revenue allocation formulas that determine transfer payments are written in a way that, in the aggregate, a municipality will almost always enjoy a net benefit from splitting into two distinct units. Thus in many cases the drive for new municipalities appears simply as a method of achieving increased revenue from the centre. The mechanisms of local corruption Sub-national political competition revolves around accessing state resources. When it comes to abusing office for personal and political gain, Indonesian legislators have an impressive menu of manipulation. Legislative sessions begin with a vigorous round of cow-trading in which the various factions jockey to fill the most lucrative committee and legislative posts. Committee members then use their over-sight function to extract resources. Businessmen, bureaucrats, and members of the executive provide gifts and favours to secure favourable policies, contracts, or simply autonomy. Many legislators take the opportunity to enter the world of contracting, funnelling government money to projects benefiting their own companies. Even the legislator not sitting on a particularly ‘wet’ (basah) committee can still find ways to profit. The most straight-forward method involves simply increasing their financial compensation package. Legislators routinely collude when it comes to legislative salaries and kickbacks. In West Java, all 100 sitting members were investigated for granting themselves a large and potentially illegal increase in their living allowance (Crouch 2010, 240). In West Sumatra, the vast majority of provincial legislators were successfully prosecuted with illegally raising their personal salaries  73 (Davidson 2007). Likewise, all 44 members of the West Papua legislature were named as suspects in a scheme that found legislators accepting illegal cash transfers from a publically owned company (Tempo 2011). It is now common to find the informal existence of universal coalitions aimed at transferring state resources to sitting legislators. Merely holding a seat guarantees legislators a healthy slice of the pie. Additionally, the legislative process provides plenty of opportunities to cash in on political power. Support for a piece of legislation or a political appointment can be attained through cash payments. Before direct elections were introduced, the executive routinely had to pay legislators in order to avoid rejection of the accountability speech, an event tantamount to a no confidence vote. The opportunity to sell support has declined since direct executive elections, though chances to shake-down an executive branch continue to exist. Executive offices are even more lucrative than legislative posts. Municipal heads take the lead in appointing the top civil servants and department heads in the region. These tend to be close allies or individuals with useful political connections. Top government officials use posts they control to build patronage networks and extract payments from aspiring bureaucrats. Before a regional head can access state resources, however, she must first win election. Prior to the 2004 reforms, executive contests involved legislative coalition building, typically facilitated through direct cash payment to legislators. Since direct elections, an executive team requires support from a party or coalition with 15% of the electoral vote or 15% of the legislative seats. Local party leaders capitalize on the law by selling their support to a needy executive ticket. Given that direct elections for subnational offices are primarily personality contests in which programs and party identification play little role, coalitions of convenience are common. Aspiring executive tickets pay large sums of money to “rent a boat”, a practice that involves candidates cobbling together a coalition in order to ensure ballot access. Candidates will sometimes have no prior connection to the parties supporting them in the coalition. In the municipality of Gowa, for instance, the former Golkar activist Hasbullah Djabar bought  74 the support of PAN and Partai Merdeka, allowing him access to the ballot.95 Interestingly, even parties that do not attain a seat in the municipal legislature still act as important coalition players. Sjachrir Sjafruddin, also a Golkar stalwart, cobbled together a coalition of 13 parties to attain ballot access in Gowa, of which only PKS had a local representative. In sum: Contemporary Indonesian politics is driven by rent-seeking. Due to power-sharing dynamics, even legislators from minor parties can enrich themselves and their associates. Yet not all legislators throughout the country face the same opportunities to access rents.  Rent opportunities and ethnic diversity A politician’s opportunity to engage in rent-seeking behaviour is dependent upon the extent of state involvement in the economy and the constraints placed on legislator behaviours. Administrative districts with high rent-seeking opportunities combine a mixture of both high state involvement in the economy and weak constraints on legislator behaviour. In this sub-section I operationalize the rent opportunities concept using available data, demonstrating that the resources available to politicians and the constraints on their actions vary across administrative districts. Furthermore, variance in these key metrics tends to correlate with ethnic diversity.96 State Resources State jobs in Indonesia are a valuable commodity and serve as a rough measure of state involvement in the economy. Indonesians will sacrifice substantial money and effort to attain a position for either themselves or their kin. Despite low official pay rates, discretionary salary top-offs and bribe revenue ensure a reliable and comfortable wage for most state employees. Educated, upwardly mobile citizens may hope to secure employment as an administrator in one of the country’s many local bureaucracies; those with lesser formal education can hope to be hired as part of the vast army of maintenance  95  For a detailed description of the Gowa Municipal race see: (Buehler and Tan 2007) This is not to deny that rent opportunities are affected by factors beyond ethnic diversity, including resource revenue. As the results from this section indicate, ethnic diversity is only a partial explanation for variance in sub-national rent opportunities, though the relationship is strong and politically consequential. 96  75 workers, drivers, security personnel, or other low-skill positions that service Indonesia’s state departments. Direct manipulation of hiring practices is considered the norm. 97 Access to state jobs is part in parcel of the Indonesian politician’s political appeal. The expansion of state employment opportunities is also implicit in policy positioning. For instance, during the run-up to the 2009 legislative election in North Sumatra the issue of new administrative district creation captured considerable local attention. Politicians of various stripes championed the division of North Sumatra into two provinces. Not lost on onlookers was the implication of this division: new political offices, new departments, and new jobs. 98 Indonesian politicians not only offer assistance securing employment, they actively work to expand their opportunities to deliver patronage in the future. The relative weight of civil service employment within the modern sector has consistently correlated with ethnic fractionalization scores for the last three decades. 99 Figure 5 demonstrates the correlation in 2005. Ethnically homogenous provinces tend to have smaller bureaucracies. This finding is statistically significant both before the fall of Suharto and before every election held in the Reformasi era. Ethnically diverse administrative areas have a larger share of their modern sector workers employed in the civil service.  97  As the World Bank notes, the civil service is characterized by informal payments for entry and promotion (2007, 16). The informal market for jobs is partially structured by social and political relations. Applicants who are perceived as socially distant can be subject to a different bribery rate. Aragon has called this practice ‘unequal opportunity buying’ (2007, 41). Patronage networks are important as they increase the probability of favourable treatment and these networks often (but not always) follow ethnic or religious lines (Aragon 2007; van Klinken 2007). 98 This particular pemekran campaign ended tragically when a rent-a-mob hired by proponents of the new province frightened the provincial Speaker of the House to the point of a deadly heart-attack. The mob’s paymaster, a candidate for provincial office running under a minor party label, was arrested and tried for his role in the affair. 99 ‘Modern sector’ refers to non-agricultural work. My focus on the modern sector follows established practice both within the comparative literature and the Indonesia literature (Chandra 2004; van Klinken 2007).  76 Figure 5 – Ethnic diversity and civil service size  Large bureaucracies in diverse areas are primarily funded through transfers from the centre.100 A simple examination of central government transfers by population and ethnic fractionalization reveals a statistically significant correlation between the two variables.101 Diverse areas receive relatively more money from the central government and can thus afford to hire relatively more bureaucrats. Taken together, the data on transfers and civil service size indicate that the magnitude of state involvement in the modern economy tends to be greater in ethnically diverse areas. Constraints on Behaviour Legal and normative constraints on legislator behaviour constitute the second aspect of the rent opportunities concept. The most direct measures available for the patterns of policy implementation are corruption perception indexes. The Transparency International Indonesian Corruption Index provides one measure of corruption perceptions in 50 cities across Indonesia (Transparency International Indonesia 2008, 2010). Using surveys of businesses leaders, TI has developed a 0 to 10 corruption score for Indonesian cities, with a 0 rating being “very corrupt” and a 10 rating being “very clean.”  100 101  See Appendix C, Section 2. See Appendix C, Section 3.  77 Figure 6 plots the relationship of an aggregate corruption score and ethnic diversity.102 The X-axis represents a province’s ethnic fractionalization; the Y-axis captures average corruption scores within the province’s cities, with corruption increasing as TI scores decline. A clear relationship exists: cities in ethnically diverse provinces are perceived as more corrupt. The relationship is statistically significant, even controlling for key variables like average income and population size. 103 Additionally, the relationship is stable when the scores are disaggregated by year; a positive relationship existed in both 2008 and 2010. Figure 6 – Ethnic diversity and corruption  Where legal authorities and the electorate abide corrupt practices, public service delivery tends to suffer. First, resources can be re-routed from public goods provision to spending that is more amendable to direct manipulation. For example, funds diverted from road water treatment and distributed to agricultural aid or general administrative costs are easier for politicians to selectively distribute. Second, the delivery of an ostensibly public good can be perverted by patronage politics. A politician that secures university admission for political supporters or provides electrical lines to only supportive villages erodes the universality of a public good, be it education or the provision of electricity. 102 103  The corruption index averages the corruption score for 2008 and 2010, the two years data are available. See Appendix C, Section 4.  78 Data on delivery of public services comes from the Indonesian NGO Regional Autonomy Watch (Komite Pemantuan Pelaksanaan Otonmi Daerah, KPPOD).104 Like the TI datasets, KPPOD measures service delivery by municipality. I use their Local Infrastructure Sub-Index as a metric of public service delivery. Using results elite surveys, KPPOD assigns each municipality in their sample a score based on their ability to delivery key infrastructure services. Quantitative tests reveal a strong correlation by ethnic diversity and low infrastructure scores. 105 The finding is statistically significant in both 2003 and 2007 datasets (Komite Pemantuan Pelaksanaan Otonmi Daerah 2003, 2008). To demonstrate the strength of key relationship, Figure 7 plots 2007 KPPOD provincial averages by provincial ethnic fractionalization. The X-axis represents provincial ethnic fractionalization scores. The Y-axis captures average infrastructure scores within the province. For the 2007 sample, municipalities were assigned an infrastructure score ranging from 0 to 100, with infrastructure quality increasing as scores increase. There is a clear correlation between the variables, with average infrastructure scores decreasing as ethnic fractionalization increases. Not only do elites perceive diverse areas to be more corrupt, data also suggests that politicians and bureaucrats in these regions do not invest in public service delivery.  104  The organization works closely with USAID and the Asia Foundation to monitor the effect of decentralization on investment climate. 105 See Appendix C, Section 5.  79 Figure 7 – Ethnic diversity and infrastructure quality  50  60  70  Average KPPOD Score  80  Average KPPOD Scores by Ethnic Fractionalization (Provincial)  0  .2  .4  .6  Ethnic Fractionalization  .8  1  Diversity and rent opportunities: explaining the relationship A strong relationship exists between ethnic diversity and the various measures of rent opportunities. Diverse areas receive more transfers from the central government and their modern sectors have a higher proportion of civil servants, factors indicating substantial state involvement in the economy. Likewise, diverse areas are perceived as more corrupt and tend to under-provide public services as compared to homogenous areas, factors indicating weak legal and normative constraints on elite behaviour. There are two primary reasons the patterns occur. First, due to legacies of state building, diverse municipalities and provinces tend to be smaller in population. Second, ethnic diversity reduces the capacity to enforce anti-corruption norms. Legacies of State Building Ethnically diverse administrative units tend to have smaller populations. Geography and pre-colonial agriculture combined to generate this demographic fact. 106 Yet it was by no  106  The roots of the correlation between ethnic homogeneity and unit population size can be found in Indonesia’s agricultural history. In the pre-colonial era, wet-rice cultivation enabled population growth. Those groups that combined agricultural techniques with a favourable geographic endowment experienced population expansion. The agricultural surplus also provided an economic base for strong kingdoms  80 means inevitable that administrative units in diverse areas would have small populations. At different points of time the whole of Sumatra, the Indonesian portions of Kalimantan, and all the entire areas east of Kalimantan (excluding Papua) formed independent governance units roughly equivalent to a contemporary province. Large, diverse units were a possibility. The final outcomes of small, diverse units reflected a political process of state building that involved both coalition building and coercion. Early Indonesian state builders confronted a dauntingly complex structure of territorial governance. In the colonial era, Dutch authority had been spread using an array of contracts, ultimatums, and conquests.107 The legal authority of subjugated local rulers and the system of administrative oversight varied throughout the archipelago. Even with the rationalization that occurred during the post-war federal system, the Dutch still utilized 11 different types of local government that ranged from the familiar municipal governments and federal districts to more contextual “neo-lands”, “negaras”, and “neogroup communities” (Shiller 1955, 89-90). An early task of the Indonesian state was to bring coherence to the colonial patchwork. After various iterations, they arrived at a system of provinces and municipal units referred to as kabupaten and kota. This pattern was most familiar to Java, where the Dutch had set up a similar division of territory. 108 The fit was awkward in the Outer Islands. Many smaller self-governing units were consolidated into artificial borders, though this outcome was likely given the dispersion of the population and the localization of identities. At the provincial level, the government created 10 provinces. 109 Half of these were located on Java. The post-Independence territorial consolidation did not last. In a few cases, regional elites who had previously enjoyed a measure of autonomy resented their reduced status. In some cases, coalitions of local elites and military commanders led rebellions capable of reinforcing cultural unity. In contrast, areas less conducive to wet-rice tended to rely on swidden agriculture practices that enabled neither population growth nor land-based kingdoms. Consequentially, Indonesia has been left with a few densely populated pockets of ethnic homogeneity and many geographically large tracts of sparsely populated and ethnically diverse lands. 107 For a brief overview of the Dutch territorial structure, see Legge (Legge 1961, 21-6). For a comprehensive account, see (Schiller 1955, 80-103). 108 At one point these were simply “first-level” and “second-level” so as not to offend the Outer Islands population with Javanese terms (Legge 1961, 13). 109 This count included Yogyakarta and Jakarta, which were considered special regions with the status of a province.  81 against centralized control. These phenomena created momentum for new territorial units. In response, the central government adjusted boundaries in order to reward allies and isolate rebels. Acehnese rebels were offered a new province in 1956, assuaging anger at their forced incorporation into North Sumatra province. 110 Minangkabau rebels in Central Sumatra were contained when the central government provided east coast elites with two new provinces (Riau and Jambi). In Kalimantan, Jakarta eased regional complaints and isolated rebellious Banjarese by splitting the territory into 4 provinces. These boundary adjustments and others not only provided symbolic benefits to the affected populations, they also allowed the central government to incorporate cooperative elites into the state structure while credibly committing to address their concerns in the future. By the early 1960s, all of the large, diverse provinces in the Outer Islands had been cut up into smaller units. The Suharto era was marked by the relative stability of administrative borders. As Suharto’s rule drew to a close in the late 1990s, regional discontent exploded throughout the archipelago. Again, the centre utilized administrative boundaries to assuage critics, isolate and contain restive groups, and frustrate potential separatists. In provinces with separatist movements there was a large expansion of new municipalities. New units meant new prominent positions which could be doled out to loyalists. This process helped solidify a pro-state constituency in contested areas like Aceh and Papua. Similarly, provinces struck by communal conflict saw a flurry of re-districting. In particular, Central Kalimantan, West Kalimantan, Central Sulawesi, and Maluku experienced considerable boundary change as the state sought to isolate rival ethnic groups. In some areas, such as North Sulawesi, boundary change pre-empted violent communal conflict before it could occur. All of these boundary changes were driven in part by the need to establish and maintain internal security. Though they did not exclusively affect diverse units, there was a strong tendency for diverse units to be split as they also tended to be the sites of conflict.  110  Rebel leader Daud Bureah continued to hold out for a more substantial autonomy package that included increased authority over the regulation of religion.  82 District creation was not confined to regions with security concerns. The easy process of re-districting contributed to an explosion of new demands. 111 Most of the split districts were low-density units in the Outer Islands (Fitrani, Hofman, and Kaiser 2005, 76). There was also a tendency for the split municipalities to have large pre-existing civil service expenditures. This suggests the municipalities already reliant on state transfers were more likely to split, and most of these rent-seeking splits occurred in diverse units. Relatively peaceful but diverse provinces like Bengkulu, East Nusa Tenggara, and Southeast Sulawesi experienced significant fragmentation. Re-districting only increased the comparatively large transfers that flowed into these regions. Though re-districting has certainly produced a homogenization at the municipal level, splits were not limited to diverse units. In East Nusa Tenggara, ethnically homogenous municipalities like Manggarai and Sumba Barat were split and sometimes re-split.112 The end result has been that diverse regions have seen their administrative boundaries re-drawn in ways that have significantly decreased the size of the units themselves. Diversity and Corruption Long term state-building processes ensured that the state would play a significant role in the local economies of diverse areas in Indonesia. It is not simply the relationship between diversity and small population size that drives the correlation between ethnic diversity and rent opportunities however. Part of the explanation lies within the political dynamics of diverse societies. Specifically, diverse jurisdictions in Indonesia tend to be  111  The basic legal framework for the creation of new municipalities is found in Government Regulation 129/2000. New municipalities must be recommended by the legislature and executive of the parent district, the governor of the province, and the Ministry of Home Affairs (MoHA). These hurdles are largely political, however. New municipalities do not have to meet any stringent criteria. The main criteria listed in law are simply that a new district must contain a minimal number of municipal administrative units (Kecamatan), though this is largely a formality as Kecamatan creation is not an administratively difficult task. The MoHA is supposed to conduct a technical analysis of a proposed municipality and make its recommendation. This analysis is supposed to carefully consider a range of 19 indicators covering economic, socio-cultural, and socio-political concerns (USAID 2006, 19). Despite having the formal authority to conduct intensive reviews and analyses, the MoHA does not use this power in a systematic manner. Pro-forma reviews are common. Even if the MoHA were to apply increased scrutiny, the national executive branch can potentially be bypassed altogether if supporters of the new division can successfully lobby the national legislature to create the new municipality in lieu of executive support. 112 Sumba Barat did have relevant religious divisions between Protestants and Catholics that may have motivated the split. Closer examination of the most recent census may uncover that splitting in ethnically homogenous areas still had underlying communal motivations.  83 corrupt for two inter-related reasons: 1) the breakdown of anti-corruption norms; 2) zerosum budgetary processes. The breakdown of anti-corruption norms in diverse political systems is especially common. Breakdown occurs in part because anti-corruption norms are subsumed by ethnic bias and/or a broader social stability norm. The threat of communal conflict tends to provide a backdrop to political discussion in ethnically diverse settings. If accused of corruption, corrupt actors often find it useful to portray their accusers as ethnically biased, a defence that is most compelling when the accuser is not a co-ethnic. Preemptive gifts to co-ethnics help shore up support and prevent particularly damaging accusations from emerging. When a corruption allegation becomes an ‘ethnic’ rather than a ‘governance’ issue, societal leaders feel pressure to place the entire problem in abeyance for the sake of social peace. The public, for its part, may discount accusations made against co-ethnics as bias. With the public divided and the elites weary of conflict, officials experience minimal backlash for engaging in corrupt behaviour. Davidson’s work details the mechanisms that explain the broader correlation between diversity and corruption revealed in the corruption perception data (Davidson 2007). In his examination of anti-corruption campaigns in West Sumatra and West Kalimantan, Davidson finds distinct ethnic dynamics hindered anti-corruption campaigns in diverse contexts. In homogenous West Sumatra, middle-class civil society activists built an organization that generated enough pressure to bring about charges on the large majority of the provincial legislature. The success of the efforts led to similar investigations throughout the province. In West Kalimantan, on the other hand, anticorruption campaigns simply reflected the ethnic political jostling that defined the provinces politics. Specifically, allegations against the Dayak dominated executive in Mempawah were pressed by a largely Malay civil society organization. The Dayak executive mobilized ethnic supporters and managed to steer investigators towards their Malay legislative rivals. Unlike the strong anti-corruption organization that emerged in West Sumatra, the organization in West Kalimantan was fleeting as it was meant only to score short-term political advantage. Davidson notes, “the thickness of ethnic politics smothered its issue counterpart” (2007, 90). In short: the anti-corruption campaigns in  84 West Sumatra were about good governance, while those in West Kalimantan were about ethnic competition. Diverse governance units in Indonesia have also been characterized by zero-sum budgeting dynamics that enable (and perhaps encourage) corruption. The provision of universally accessible public goods is viewed suspiciously by those who suspect their ethnic rivals may benefit more than co-ethnics. The erosion of trust facilitates spending on particularistic goods that can be manipulated by corrupt actors. This argument is difficult to empirically pinpoint, but telling signs exist in the existing case literature. Aragon’s (2007, 51-60) description of governance in Poso reveals the tight relationship between ethnic competition and corrupted infrastructure projects(Aragon 2007, 51-60). Bandiera & Levy find that diverse villages that are governed democratically provide fewer social services that benefit the poor, such as hospital beds and low educational fees (Bandiera and Levy 2011).113 In his study of local governance, von Luebke (2009) simply assumes ethnic diversity will impact service provision and carefully controls his case-selection so as to only include homogenous municipalities. In their brief survey of inter-municipal cooperation, Turner & Podger find ethnic homogeneity provides policy-makers with a less-challenging environment in which to build lasting projects. Regarding a solid waste project in Bali, the only successful inter-regional project the authors could find, Turner & Podger note, “[The project’s] success was largely due to the social coherence of Balinese society at the subregional level, as well as pressure from the tourist industry” (Turner et al. 2003, 95, emphasis added). More commonly, authors have focused on the ethnic competition for top political and bureaucratic positions as it has simply been assumed that key posts provide valuable bailiwicks for specific groups (R. William Liddle 1970, 159-163; Tanasaldy 2007, 359-371). While not all of the literature mentioned focuses directly on the budgetary process, they all draw a link between ethnic competition and governance outcomes. An  113  Interestingly, Bandiera & Levy also find that diverse areas provide increased community security measures and more days of voluntary labour. The authors theorize that diverse systems empower the wealthy elite by allowing them to form a coalition with an ethnic group. Thus the over-provision of some public goods and the under-provision of others reflect the relative relative power of the elite, which prefer security programs over health and educational services.  85 underlying intuition exists that ethnic competition reinforces an Indonesian tendency to treat budgeting as a division of the spoils. This intuition is consistent with the strong, negative correlation between infrastructure provision and diversity. In sum: This section has demonstrated that rent-seeking opportunities correlate with ethnic diversity in the Indonesian context. First, diverse provinces have a greater percentage of modern sector workers employed in the civil service. These large subnational bureaucracies are funded through transfer payments from the central government. Second, politicians in diverse sub-national systems face fewer constraints on their behaviour, as evidenced by high perceptions of corruption in diverse cities. Consistently low performance in infrastructure provision suggests politicians funnel money away from public services and towards more particularistic forms of state spending. In part, these outcomes are simply endogenous to diverse political systems. Competition between groups weakens anti-corruption efforts and incentivises particularistic spending to support co-ethnics. Nonetheless, some of the correlation between rent opportunities and diversity is a consequence of low population size in diverse areas. The state-building process in Indonesia has produced administrative fragmentation in diverse regions, increasing the reliance on state employment in these areas.  Conclusion Indonesia’s aversion to a fragmented, ethnically divided party system has deep roots. Indonesia’s early nationalist leaders were deeply suspicious of ethnic and /or regional political organization. Their suspicion was reinforced by traumatic events, including the divide and rule tactics of the Dutch, the regional rebellions of the 1950s, and the recent violence that accompanied the downfall of Suharto. The aversion to sub-national political organization has been built into the country’s electoral institutions. Strict party registration and general elections laws ensure that sub-regional parties do not make it onto the ballot. These laws have been strengthened with each election. Likewise, the aversion to a fragmented party system stretches back to Sukarno’s attack on the parties in the 1950s. After each election, institutional reformers have tightened the screws on smaller parties.  86 The party system has not evolved in the way reformers have intended. Each election has witnessed the ascension of new modestly sized parties and, just as importantly, the survival of the established political players. The vote share for the small parties has risen to surprising heights. This fragmentation of the system is not indicative of any societal polarization however. The importance of the old aliran cleavage has faded with time. Existing parties have moved to the ideological centre to join the new, ideologically inoffensive presidential vehicles that were formed after the introduction of direct executive elections. Contemporary politics revolve around the division of the spoils, and the interaction between ballot box rivals turns from competitive to collusive once legislators have been seated. While spoils motivate political life, the focal point of spoils politics has shifted from the national capital to the regions. Decentralization has increased the importance of holding local power. Sub-national politicians eagerly divide up the substantial transfer payments that now flow from the centre. This fact of political life has been especially true in ethnically diverse areas. These relatively small administrative units receive relatively high flows of transfers, and the volume has only increased with the substantial postSuharto boundary splitting. Bringing this back to the issue of party systems and electoral competition, ethnically diverse electoral districts tend to have high rent opportunities. Voters in these electoral districts are relatively more reliant on state employment, less likely to expect delivery of public services, and more resigned to systemic corruption. Diverse electoral districts, then, are more likely to produce clientelist politics rather than programmatic politics. In the proceeding chapters I will link these sub-national rent opportunities to patterns of political organization and electoral behaviour. Indonesia’s peculiar institutional arrangement, combined with the competition for local spoils, has unleashed a political dynamic that has fragmented the party system. While the strong nationalist norms written into electoral institutions have prevented direct ethnic and regional partisan mobilization, the indirect effect of ethnicity continues to stymie efforts to force the consolidation of the party system.  87  Chapter 4 - Candidate Entry in Indonesia In 2009, 95% of Indonesia’s 11,269 national legislative candidates failed to win a seat. Most of these aspiring politicians never had a realistic chance of getting elected. In some cases these long-shot candidacies could be written off as miscalculation. Perhaps the 7,018 aspiring politicians that lined up behind one of the country’s untested parties simply over-estimated their upstart party’s appeal. It is considerably harder to explain the 1,130 candidates who ran for parties which received less than 1% of the vote in the previous 2004 election. These parties had an established record of poor performance on the national stage. It was a safe bet that none of them would even meet the newly enacted electoral threshold that would allow them to seat national legislators in 2009. Candidates for these nationally insignificant parties were aware of the electoral risks. Despite the odds, long-shot candidates stayed in the race, typically at great personal expense. Which raises the question: why engage in a hopeless political campaign? Why spend resources where there is only a miniscule chance of success? We cannot write these long-shot candidacies off as simply a lack of political experience or the unintended by-product of the nation’s under-funded education system. If this was the case the tendency to engage in hopeless political campaigns would be uniform across the archipelago. Yet some districts saw far more hopeless candidacies than others. By taking the number of candidates-per-seat as a measure of the number of hopeless candidacies we observe considerable variation in behaviour across electoral districts in 2009, from a high of 31.7 candidates-per-seat to a low of 15.4. Examining this cross-district variation can help us uncover the motivation behind candidate behaviour. Why do candidate entry rates vary across electoral districts? I argue variation in the number of candidates is (partially) explained by variation in ethnic diversity. The more ethnically diverse a district, the more candidates it will have. Existing comparative literature suggests multiple causal pathways connecting ethnic diversity and candidate entry, but none them explain why hopeless candidates in diverse districts would invest their efforts in a campaign. I offer a novel explanation that emphasizes the relationship between sub-national rents and national candidacy. Ethnic diversity produces rent opportunities, which increase the payoff from holding sub-national seats (more  88 patronage, corruption, etc). Political candidates benefit from (potentially) gaining office and gaining influence within a party. Sub-national rents increase the payoff a national candidate receives from building partisan influence: where local rent opportunities are high, it is financially beneficial to have influence with a locally powerful network. Thus ethnic diversity produces rents, which draws in candidates. My argument places candidate behaviour in a new light. Influence within even a minor party is valuable because these parties can still hold sub-national power. For instance, the 10 minor parties that received less than 1% of the vote in 2004 may have elected only 4 national legislators among them in that year, but they also controlled 851 municipal seats. Aspiring politicians are willing to take on hopeless national-level candidacies because it allows them to build and maintain influence with sub-national copartisans. To understand outcomes at the national level, then, we need to examine subnational dynamics. I test the argument using a series of datasets containing information on over 86,000 candidacies. Understanding the factors influencing candidate decision-making is an important subject in its own right, but it particularly pertinent to my broader investigation into the determinants of party system size. The number of candidates affects electoral outcomes. A high number of candidates on a party’s list indicate the party has many activists canvassing for support within a district. This raises the party’s profile and increases the chance a voter will support a party simply because they like the local candidate. Accordingly, when a district contains an abundance of candidates spread over a large number of parties, the dispersion of the vote fragments the party system. The chapter proceeds as follow. Section 2 presents the empirical puzzle of crossdistrict correlation between candidate entry and ethnic diversity and goes on to review the explanations for this phenomenon found in existing literature. Section 3 outlines my Rent Opportunities model of candidate entry, highlighting the differences between my argument and two alternative models – Communal Voting and Strategic Parties – that predict a similar correlation between candidate entry and ethnic diversity. Section 4 provides the necessary background on the Indonesian case. Sections 5 tests the Rent Opportunities model and explains why this approach is more persuasive than the potential alternatives. I conclude with a summation of the findings.  89  Why enter? Existing explanations Empirical puzzle I begin with a stylized fact: diverse electoral districts have more legislative candidates. Examining aggregate candidate numbers in Figure 8 and Figure 9, we observe a correlation between ethnic diversity and candidate entry in Indonesia’s 2004 and 2009 elections.114 Why does ethnic diversity correlate with a high number of candidates? The exact same parties compete across all of Indonesia’s districts and none of the parties have an explicitly ‘ethnic’ platform. This variation in the number of candidates competing in an election is important because it directly affects the democratic experiences of voters and the political fortunes of parties. Figure 8 – Candidates-per-seat in 2004  10  Candidates-per-Seat (Aggregate) 15 20  25  Candidates-per-Seat by Ethnic Fractionalization - 2004  0  114  .2  .4 .6 Ethnic Fractionalization (0-1)  .8  1  The relationship does not exist in 1999, the countries first post-Suharto contest. There are four reasons candidate entry was anomalous in 1999: 1) the lead up to the election was marked by transition era polarization; 2) the pre-election organizing period was attenuated due to the unexpected timing of the election call; 3) the election preceded the decentralization of authority to sub-national units; 4) the recruitment of candidates preceded legislation freeing civil servants from their commitment to support Golkar, the Suharto regime’s party of hegemonic control.  90 Figure 9 – Candidates-per-seat in 2009  15  Candidates-per-Seat (Aggregate) 20 25 30  35  Candidates-per-Seat by Ethnic Fractionalization - 2009  0  .2  .4 .6 Ethnic Fractionalization (0-1)  .8  1  The relationship between candidate entry and ethnic diversity is consistent with my theoretical argument that rent opportunities attract politicians. There are, however, two alternative theoretical stories that can account for the relationship, which I term the Communal Voting model and the Strategic Parties model. Each model explains the correlation between ethnic diversity and candidate entry with a distinct causal mechanism. As such, they generate distinct observable implications that allow us to disentangle which of the three models is playing out in the Indonesian case. In order to identify mechanisms and observable implications it is first necessary to review three broad approaches used when accounting for variations in candidate entry. I then explain how these approaches are blended to produce two existing models that posit a relationship between entry and ethnic diversity.  Approaches to entry The comparative literature offers three broad approaches to candidate entry. First the strategic candidates approach focuses on the decision-making of individual actors. Models typically contain similar assumptions. First, running for office is costly. Second, successful candidates receive a payoff if they win office, both because they get to enjoy the perks of office and they get to enact their preferred policy. Third, the expected payoff  91 from office is higher if the candidate believes she will win. Aspiring politicians are more likely to become candidates when they think they can win office, when the payoff from holding office is large, or when the costs of running are low. 115 Empirical work on candidate entry has not kept pace with theoretical advances however. 116 A second strategic parties approach starts with the assumption that electoral competition in modern democratic countries is structured by political parties. Parties have an interest in winning seats and achieving policy goals. In order to maximize the number of seats and maintain internal discipline, parties tightly regulate access to the ballot for those wishing to use the party’s banner. Parties set candidate numbers to avoid coordination failures which occur when seats are lost due to co-partisans splitting the party’s vote. Coordination issues are of greatest concern to parties in plurality systems, where the costs of failure are higher (Cox and Rosenbluth 1994). Still, even parties operating in proportional systems must balance the different demands of activists and voters. These centralized decision-making processes affect the number of candidates that are allowed to enter the political sphere. Third, the sociological approach emphasizes the issue of candidate supply (Norris 1997). A citizen’s decision to become a candidate is structured by the social environment in which she lives. Factors in the broader social environment make entry more or less likely and variation in social structure explains variation in aggregate entry decisions. Variation in candidate supply has two potential effects. First, it has an impact on the composition of a candidate slate. In this case the dependent variable captures some aspect  115  A robust formal literature focuses closely on expected payoff of enacting preferred policies (Besley 1997; Feddersen, Sened, and Wright 1990; Morelli 2004; Osborne and Slivinski 1996). Consistent with established Downsian understandings, policy competition occurs across a uni-dimensional space where the citizen’s policy pay-off is determined by the distance between their policy preferences and that of the winner. These models can be tweaked to arrive at equilibrium predictions on the number of candidates entering the race, revealing the conditions under which Duvergerian outcomes should – and should not – be expected to occur. 116 There are some noteworthy exceptions. The American based literature on candidate entry uses a variety of factors to predict when ‘quality’ candidates enter a race and/or when incumbents decide to retire. In short, quality candidates enter when there is a strong chance of winning and are deterred when the probability of winning is low. See: (Carson 2005; Jacobson 1989; Stone and Maisel 2003). A similar stream of literature from Japan accounts for electoral fragmentation using a strategic candidate model. Reed argues that the ‘M+1’ outcome in Japan during the period of SNTV occurred because candidates choose to retire after several electoral defeats (Reed 1990, 2009). This process of learning winnowed the electoral field. As in the American case, it is individual candidate calculations about the probability of winning that motivate entry (and exit).  92 of candidate traits (e.g. gender, political experience, wealth). For example, a high rate of women’s participation rate in the workforce increases the ‘supply’ of potential female politicians and is positively correlated with the percentage of women candidates run by a party (Kunovich and Paxton 2005). Second, supply variations can affect the raw number of candidates. For instance, a Farmer’s Party should have trouble finding candidates in an urban environment where we expect the supply of farmers to be low. Thus sociological variables should interact with party-level variables to impact the composition and size of candidate lists.  Ethnicity and entry Previous work can be leveraged to explain the correlation between ethnic diversity and a high number of candidates. First, the Communal Voting model blends sociological factors with the assumptions from the strategic candidates approach. The basic intuition from the strategic candidates approach holds that aspiring politicians will enter when: 1) they see an electoral niche they think they can fill; 2) the electoral niche has reasonable chance of being translated into a seat. The number of electoral niches may be structured by sociological factors, in this case the level of ethnic diversity. If we assume that voters prefer supporting co-ethnics, then diverse electorates should provide more electoral niches that can be filled. For instance, a district with an ethnically homogenous population will offer fewer potential support bases than a district equally divided by four ethnic groups. Aspiring politicians will enter until all the viable electoral niches are filled leading to a greater number of candidates in diverse districts. The Communal Voting model, then, presents a simple causal story: Ethnic diversity  →   # of candidates  How much of an effect ethnic diversity has on candidate entry is attenuated by additional factors such as demographic structure, the existence of non-ethnic cleavages, and political institutions. These factors will also determine whether candidates from an ethnic group coordinate on specific ethnic parties or spread themselves across a number of multi-ethnic competitors. Still, the fundamentals of the model – self-interested candidates and a divided electorate – are straight-forward and underlie much of the comparative  93 party systems literature (W. R. Clark and Golder 2006; Cox and Amorim Neto 1997; Ordeshook and Shvetsova 1994; Stoll 2007).117 In a second causal story, strategic parties have incentives to recruit more candidates in diverse areas. Assuming competition takes place in multi-member districts, ethnic divisions can encourage broadly aggregative parties to seek to mirror the multiplicity of social divisions within their candidate lists. Facing a diverse electorate, the party may earn an electoral boost from its ability to construct a diverse electoral slate of candidates. Extra candidates allow parties to increase the ethnic representativeness of their party lists and connect with distinct communities. Presenting voters with a ‘rainbow’ list of legislative candidates allows the party to appeal to voters across the spectrum: Ethnic diversity  →  ‘Rainbow’ Lists  →   # of candidates  In this Strategic Parties model it is deliberate partisan electoral strategy that leads to more candidates entering the race in diverse areas. The application is more limited than the Communal Voting model: the Strategic Parties model assumes both multi-member districts and parties that want at least the appearance of crossing ethnic divides. It is, however, a story that finds empirical support in post-Independence Indonesia, which makes it particularly relevant for my purposes. 118 While both stories are plausible, there are important differences and over-sights. The treatment of candidates across the two models diverges sharply. In the Communal Voting model, candidates run when they think they can win. Aspiring politicians do not knowingly engage in a hopeless campaign. In the Strategic Parties model, candidate decision-making drops out of picture altogether. It does leave open the possibility of hopeless candidacies but does not explain why any candidates would take on the burden. Neither model does particularly well explaining candidate behaviour in Indonesia 117  The argument is only made implicitly. Explicit discussion of ethnic diversity and the number of political competitors tends to take place at the level of the political party (G. Cox and Octavio 1997, 152-3; Stoll 2007, 1443-1446). 118 Herbert Feith describes the logic of long candidate lists in his classic study of the 1955 elections: [I]n particular areas of an electoral district, and among different social, ethnic, and clan groups in it, the parties campaigned in terms of the attributes of the individual representatives of those whom they had included in their lists, usually in lower positions. The relatively easy procedure of nomination and the great length which lists were permitted to have encouraged the candidature of many persons who could not possibly be elected but whose name could be useful to the parties in their campaigning among particular groups of voters. (Feith 1957, 17-18)  94 because both stories assume the ultimate goal of the strategic actor is limited to attaining victory in the immediate election. By placing candidate behaviour in a broader context of multi-level competition we can understand why politicians would knowingly run a hopeless campaign.  Rent opportunities and entry The basic intuition of what I refer to as the Rent Opportunities model is that Indonesian politicians are motivated by the possibility of accessing rents, and they are more likely to enter in areas where rents are high. These areas tend to be – but are not necessarily – ethnically diverse. The argument is based on a series of propositions. First, rent opportunities are high in ethnically diverse electoral districts. Second, high rent opportunities increase the payoff from holding sub-national office. Third, candidates receive a payoff from building partisan influence. Fourth, the pay-off from partisan influence is determined by subnational office benefits. Taken together I expect high candidate entry both at the national and sub-national level where there are high rent opportunities. Sub-national candidate entry increases due to high payoff from office holding, while national entry increases due to high payoff from partisan influence in high rent areas. I unpack each claim below.  Rents and diversity Rent opportunities are determined by two factors: 1) state resources available for manipulation; 2) constraints against rent-seeking behaviour. A combination of low constraints and extensive state resources make for high rent opportunities. Both resources and constraints are affected by sub-national ethnic structures. Internal and external processes increase particularistic spending in diverse contexts, expanding resources available to sitting politicians. In Indonesia, the correlation between rent opportunities and ethnic diversity long preceded the transition to democracy. It is my contention that legacies of sub-national rents exert an influence on candidate behaviour independent of communal political preferences. The effect of diversity on partisan elites and electoral outcomes is indirect, working through the mechanism of rent opportunities.  95  Office benefits, party influence, and entry Moving to candidate strategies, I start with Samuels’ basic entry model (Samuels 2003, 15). In his simple formalization, Samuels focuses on three important factors: the probability of winning, the value of the office, and the costs that will be incurred. 119 I propose office benefits are high in areas with high rent opportunities. When constraints on the behaviour of public officials are loose, sitting legislators can earn a windfall through such illicit activities as budget skimming, influence peddling, and contract rigging. And when the state dominates the economy it is important to have some influence over the crafting of regulations and the distribution of jobs. In short, political office is more lucrative when rent opportunities are high. The high office benefits draw ambitious citizens into political careers and induce higher levels of candidate entry. Next, I suggest that many candidates have multiple goals. First, they want to win office. Second, they want to build and maintain valuable network connections. In other words, they want to build influence. It is this second motivation that explains the correlation between entry rates and ethnic diversity in Indonesia. These network connections can come in many forms: occupational, kinship, partisan, etc. The key point is that it pays to have connections with a locally powerful network in high rent areas. Running under a party label as part of a broader local team allows ambitious rent-seekers to solidify their network connections. Spending time and money in service to the party ingratiates a candidate with her co-partisans. For the national candidate, party influence is earned at multiple levels. As a national candidate, the national party office recognizes a candidate’s service to the party. Even an unsuccessful candidate has at least some hopes of calling in favours from party headquarters. The national level candidate also interacts with the sub-national branches that are contained within her district. Local co-partisans in office or party positions may recognize, and later reward, a candidate’s service. What is the payoff for building party influence? On the one hand, a candidate may be able to extract future positions within the party. A branch leadership position or a prominent spot on a future list of candidates are two potentially valuable commodities that influence can attain. A candidate may also try to extract state resources from sitting 119  Samuels’ model formal model is described in more detail in Chapter 2.  96 co-partisans. Favours could include contract for a friend’s construction firm, a government job for a family member or a road for a formerly supportive community. If co-partisans have attained office, party influence provides a chip even the unsuccessful candidate may seek to cash in. We can thus add on to Samuels’ model of candidate entry a payoff for building influence. The relationship can be expressed as: Ui (Running for Office o) = PioBio + Ii – Cio. “I” is the benefit that candidate i gains from building party influence by running for office. Influence itself can be further disaggregated into local and national components, and can be expressed as: Ii = NpiBon + LpiBol, where “N” is the legislative strength that individual i's party is expected to attain at the national level, multiplied by the benefit attained from holding national office; “L” is the legislative strength that individual i's party is expected to attain at the local level, multiplied by the benefit of holding local office. Several relationships can be drawn from this simple model that can help explain cross-party and cross-district variation in the number of candidates. First, as a party’s expected share of seats in the national legislature increases (N pi), the payoff from attaining influence in this party increases. Thus parties that are expected to do well nationally should attract more candidates. Second, as a party’s expected share of seats in the local legislature(s) increases (Lpi), the payoff from attaining influence in this party increases. As such, parties that are strong at the local level should attract more candidates. Third, as the benefit from local office increases (B ol), the payoff from attaining influence with a party increases. Consequently, in national electoral districts where the benefits of holding local office are high, more candidates should run at the national level. For the rent opportunities model, office benefits drive entry decisions. The presence of rent opportunities is the necessary link in the chain leading from ethnic diversity to increased number of candidates: Ethnic diversity  →  Rent Opportunities  →   # of candidates  The model can account for link between ethnic diversity in a situation like Indonesia where parties have a restricted ability to cater to ethnic demands. I have thus returned to  97 the prominent piece of folk wisdom ada gula, ada semut120: like ants, Indonesian candidates tend to congregate in areas where there is a sweet payoff for their efforts.  Case background: selecting candidates in Indonesia Partisan context  All legislative candidates in Indonesia must be nominated by a political party. 121 There are a few restrictions on who can become a national candidate; namely people who fall under of the following four categories: 1) under the age of 21; 2) with a recent criminal history; 3) a past association with the communist party; 4) lower than a high-school education.122 Since 2004, most parties tend to conform to the non-binding regulation that 1/3 of all candidates in each district be women. Parties also have their own additional regulations. PPP, for example, limits candidacy to Muslims while Partai Golkar tries to select candidates with a five year history of party membership. Adherence to both official and partisan rules can be bent, however. Across all parties the process of selecting candidates tends to be centralized. National offices collect and submit candidate lists and thus always get the final say on list composition. There are no residency requirements on national candidates, so parties are free to place any candidate they like in a given district. 123 Most parties, however, have mechanisms to solicit suggestions and feedback from sub-national branches, which include formal quotas for sub-national favourites (e.g. PAN) informal mechanisms of consultation (e.g. PPP), and membership surveys (e.g. PKS). Candidate selection timelines vary across parties but typically start around one year before the election.124 For the aspiring politician candidature is prompted by a  120  Roughly translated: where there is sugar, there are ants. The one exception is for the DPD, which will be taken up in more detail below. 122 There are additional requirements, such as proficiency in the national language (Bahasa Indonesia) and ‘faith in God the Almighty’ that are generally less salient. One notable exception exists in Aceh, where local Quran recitation requirements weed out some of the secular-minded. Approximately 6% (81) of all applicants for provincial candidacy in Aceh were barred from participation in 2009 for their alleged ignorance of the Quran (Nov. 11, 2008, Jakarta Post). 123 Legislative candidates at the provincial and municipal level are formally required to reside in the province or municipality. 124 The description of the process refers to both the 2004 and 2009 elections. Due to time constraints, the 1999 elections involved a comparatively more chaotic process. 121  98 combination of self-selection and network pressures for involvement. 125 Aspiring national candidates can apply directly to the national office or lobby their local branches for a recommendation. Lobbying processes involve both over-the-table gift-giving and large under-the-table donations. Costs associated with attaining a spot on a party list tend to vary by party size and list position (Syamsuddin 2005). The General Elections Commission (Komisi Pemilu Umum, KPU) requires a Temporary Candidates List (Daftar Caleg Sementara, DCS) of all national candidates approximately eight months before the election. Most parties pass their lists in with very little time to spare before the deadline. The KPU then examines the list to ensure that candidates meet regulations and are not registered in more than one electoral district. The reviewing process lasts about six weeks, and this period provides candidates with a last chance to weigh their political fortunes. Some political attrition occurs. 126 At the end of the review process the parties submit their Fixed Candidates List (Daftar Caleg Tetap, DCT). This list stays largely stable between its public release and the printing of ballots.  Campaigns and partisan influence Indonesian electoral campaigns are increasingly candidate-centered. Candidates pay most campaign expenses and, as a result, have considerable autonomy. This does not mean every candidate is an island; links with co-partisans exist. The type and strength of bonds with co-partisans varies. The strongest connections are close pre-existing bonds like family. A candidate with family members running at different levels is common. For instance, Rudolph Pardede, the former provincial PDI-P leader in North Sumatra, managed to have his son-in-law and daughter nominated at the national and municipal levels respectively (Jakarta Post, Dec 3, 2003). Nurdin Manurung, the controversial North Sumatra activist and leader of National People's Concern Party (Partai Peduli Rakyat Nasional, PPRN) provincial list in Medan, shared clan connections and a history of political activism with Sujono Manurung, the second-ranked PPRN for the Medan 125  The process of putting oneself forward can sometimes be more ‘network pressure’ than ‘self-selection.’ Top party officials are expected to run. Parties will sometimes court star candidates. While systematic data on gender and recruitment is lacking, field interviews suggest women candidates are also more likely to be actively recruited. 126 For some candidates the DCS provides a concrete measure for where they stand in the party. The most prominent defection of the 2009 campaign season involved a longstanding PDI-P legislator (Permadi) bolting to the up-start Partai Gerindra in part because he received an undesirable list position.  99 district at the national level. South Sulawesi’s powerful Limpo clan maintain fluid partisan loyalties while competing across several levels of government (Buehler & Johnson Tan 2007). Not all pre-existing bonds are as thick as blood, though. In 2004, PPDK’s North Maluku branch was built on a network of those connected with the Sultan of Ternate. Pioneers’ Party (Partai Pelopar, PP) North Sumatra organization had a concentration of politicians originating from the island of Nias. In these cases candidacy is, in part, a costly signal of an individual’s commitment to the broader pre-existing network. The very proces