Lazarus Rising

by John Howard

  On the Sunday evening, at a meeting of senior advisors I had convened at the Lodge, Dennis Richardson, Director General of ASIO, in his typically blunt style, said, ‘Something like this is, by definition, a failure of intelligence.’ Dennis was being too hard on himself, and his and other agencies. Despite some determined, and on occasions quite disreputable attempts, of the Labor Party to establish the contrary, several inquiries came up with the same conclusion. There was no specific warning of the attack. There had been no failure of intelligence.

  Nor was there to be any failure of will by the AFP, ASIO and other agencies; they bent every effort, in cooperation with their Indonesian counterparts, to bring to justice those responsible for the attack. It was in many respects the AFP’s finest hour on my watch. The forensic and other help given to the Indonesians was outstanding and quite crucial in tracking down the culprits.

  The attack had been designed to cause maximum carnage. Just after 11 pm on 12 October, a bomb hidden in a backpack exploded inside Paddy’s Bar. It was almost certain that the person carrying the backpack was a suicide bomber. He died from the explosion. Just 10 to 15 seconds later a much more powerful bomb, close to 1000kg, which had been placed inside a white Mitsubishi van parked in front of the nearby Sari Club, was detonated by remote control. The explosion inside Paddy’s Bar had attracted people to the Sari Club entrance, which increased the death and injury from the second blast. There was a third bomb, which went off in front of the US Consulate, causing minor injuries to one person.

  I first learned of the attack early Sunday morning when I was telephoned by Malcolm Hazell, one of my senior advisors. The information then was sketchy, with confirmed deaths being only a few. The magnitude of the tragedy was to become increasingly apparent as the day wore on. Later in the morning I spoke to Ric Smith, a veteran diplomat, Australia’s ambassador to Indonesia. He in turn was receiving his information from Ross Tysoe, our consul in Bali, who, literally, had been on the streets helping victims within minutes of the attack.

  The Federal Police Commissioner, Mick Keelty, had already rung his Indonesian counterpart, General Da’i Bachtiar, to offer Australian police help in hunting down the killers. Fortuitously, the man put in charge of the Indonesian investigation, General Pastika, and Mick Keelty were friends, having met in 1993 at a police management course in Canberra. This facilitated the smooth cooperation between the police forces of the two nations. The AFP man put in charge of the Australian contingent quickly despatched to Bali was Graham Ashton, who had been AFP liaison officer in Jakarta between 1995 and 1997. He spoke Bahasa (Indonesian) and knew many senior Indonesian police extremely well.

  I authorised the despatch to Bali of all available C-130 transport aircraft. Loaded with medical personnel and supplies, they were on their way within hours of the attack. In the 37 hours immediately after the attack, the RAAF would complete the total evacuation of 66 Australians and others to various hospitals in Australia. The most serious burns victims were taken to Royal Perth Hospital. In the weeks which followed, Dr Fiona Wood, later Australian of the Year, would become a household name for the work that she and her team at the Royal Perth burns unit did for the worst burns victims. Under the guidance of its administrator Dr Len Notaras, the Royal Darwin Hospital did an amazing job acting as both a treating hospital and clearing point for injured victims brought to Australia.

  This rescue operation, which unquestionably saved many lives, as the Bali hospital system could not have coped with such an overwhelming emergency, was a tribute to Australian teamwork and pragmatic capacity to get something done in a hurry, when that was required. Almost all of the evacuation work was carried out by the men and women of the RAAF, assisted by army medical staff as well as civilians. Under the codename ‘Operation Bali Assist’, it was the largest Australian aero medical evacuation since the war in Vietnam. Later I went to Richmond Air Base, near Sydney, to personally thank the RAAF people for what they had done. Amongst many on that day, I met a new RAAF recruit who spoke with pride of how she and a group captain had worked side by side to sustain and comfort a badly injured person on the journey back to Australia. That was typical of the efforts of scores of military personnel and civilians. In its official report on the evacuation, published in the Medical Journal of Australia in December 2002, the ADF noted, ‘The patients were mostly young, quiet and stoical. There were no complaints or unreasonable demands; on the contrary, most were concerned for their mates.’1

  Just after 1 pm I spoke to President Megawati of Indonesia. We agreed on total cooperation between our two countries, not only in finding those responsible for this outrage which had killed so many Indonesians and Australians, but also in the ongoing fight against terrorism. I also telephoned Simon Crean, the Opposition leader, and offered him regular briefings. The Australian people would want their political leaders to stand together in responding to this shocking event.

  Mid-afternoon I held a news conference in Sydney. Although there was no clear picture of numbers, I knew that the death toll would be much higher than early reports suggested. I wanted to prepare the nation for this. I sensed already that this was a horror that would tear at the emotions of my fellow Australians. It would be qualitatively different from anything we had previously experienced. In that news conference I not only expressed my compassion for those who had lost relatives and friends and displayed anger at the outrage, but began explaining what Australia proposed to do in helping the Indonesians catch those who were responsible.

  This was the first of many occasions over coming days and weeks when I would seek to reassure the Australian people, badly shaken by an event which brought our nation face to face with the full evil of Islamic extremism.

  Parliament met just two days after the attack, and for the best part of the next two weeks there was a suspension of the normal political combat. The grim character of what had occurred demanded nothing less. Question time was used to provide as much information as possible about the repatriation to Australia of the seriously injured; the tortuous task of identifying the dead and the return of their remains would take a lot more time and cause considerable distress to relatives and many others.

  The bodies of many who had died were either burned or mutilated beyond easy recognition. The victim identification process would prove to be arduous, gruesome and, for loved ones, traumatic. Scores of close relatives had travelled to Bali immediately after the attack, grief-stricken, but anticipating that fairly quick arrangements could be made for the remains of victims to be returned to Australia. For a lot of those relatives, this was not to be. They would, sadly, have a much longer wait.

  The victims’ remains were in the care and control of the Indonesian authorities, and had been placed in a makeshift morgue. Identification had to follow a strict Interpol protocol which, for some remains, entailed a protracted process. This was a sensitive and difficult issue. Many victim identification experts from Australia had flown to Bali to augment the understaffed Indonesians, who were doing a praiseworthy job in the most trying of circumstances. Identification was taking place in a foreign country and in accordance with the laws and procedures of that country. I could completely understand why distraught family members did not fully appreciate this. But there had to be an absolute premium on accurate identifications.

  The Interpol protocol required one of three identification methods to be used: dental records, fingerprints or DNA. As so many of the victims were young, dental records would be of little help. That generation of Australians, because of the fluoridisation of most of Australia’s water supply, had been blessed with exceptionally good teeth. As a result of the badly charred nature of bodies, fingerprints were often not available. Thus, in approximately half of all cases, DNA recognition was the only available method. In turn this had to be followed painstakingly, otherwise mistakes would occur, adding to the anguish of loved ones.

  I was personally advised by an expert who was on the spot, Professor Chris Griffiths, the head of the ID uni
t of the Department of Forensic Medicine at Westmead Hospital, that if the protocol were not followed meticulously there was a one-in-five chance of an identity error. Professor Griffiths was known to me, and I respected his counsel. Delay with the repatriation of victims’ remains had begun to become an issue with some media because of the distress of relatives. Given the raw emotions of so many grief-stricken relatives and friends, this was a painful issue. I had to be sympathetic, but I could not put aside the need for prudent adherence to the Interpol protocol.

  The Bali attack rocked Australia to its core. Not only was the loss of life large, but because of our links with Bali it felt almost like an attack on Australian soil. Time magazine would describe Bali as ‘party central’ for young Australians. That was right. The island was close, accessible and well within the price range of most Australians wanting a relaxing holiday. The friendly, culturally distinct Balinese people added to the attraction of the place.

  Early October marked the end of the football season for those Australians who played or followed Australian Rules or either code of rugby. Many of them went to Bali to unwind at the end of a hectic season. The national recall of the Bali attack will forever include the names Coogee Dolphins, Kingsley Football Club, Sturt Australian Football Club, Forbes Rugby Club and Southport Australian Football Club. No fewer than 19 of the 88 Australians killed in the blast came from teams affiliated with these clubs.

  Not all of those who lost their lives were young. The simple stone memorial to the Bali victims, located in the English garden adjacent to the House of Representatives’ side of Parliament House, contains the names of a cross-section of largely carefree Australians whose lives were cut short by terrorism.

  Speaking in parliament on 13 October I tried as best I could to capture the national mood in the following terms: ‘For the rest of Australian history, 12 October 2002 will be counted as a day on which evil struck, with indiscriminate and indescribable savagery … This foul deed — this wicked evil act of terrorists — has not only claimed the lives of Australians but also claimed the lives of many of the innocent people of Bali, a beautiful, hitherto peaceful part of Indonesia. Bali is much loved by so many Australians.’

  On Thursday I decided to go to Bali the next day. My original intention had been to delay going until the middle of the following week. A prime ministerial visit would strain resources on the ground, and I did not want this while more urgent tasks needed attention. But disquiet regarding the time involved in the identification process continued. This, together with a wish to talk to the victims’ families, persuaded me that I should go earlier. I was determined to preserve the bipartisan nature of Australia’s response to the attack, so I asked Simon Crean, the Opposition leader, to join me and John Anderson, the Deputy Prime Minister, on the trip to Bali. I wanted those who had lost relatives and friends to know that there was shared grief across the Australian political spectrum.

  Denpasar Airport was swarming with representatives of the world’s media when we arrived in Bali. I went straight to the Australian Consulate in Bali to take part in a sunset service in the grounds of the consulate, in front of a large wooden cross. Some relatives and friends of victims came to the service and I was able to talk to them afterwards. I spoke briefly at the service. This would be the first time that I was to speak to Australians who had lost loved ones in the attack, and if ever a speech from the heart were needed, this was such an occasion. During the plane journey I had thought about what I would say, especially to those who had lost so much. I was glad that I did not usually read my speeches. Especially then, I owed it to my grieving fellow Australians to look them in the eye and say what I felt. No speechwriter, however gifted, could have captured the emotions which were swirling through me that tragic but balmy evening. It was a sad moment in history for our country. While grieving for those who had been left bereaved I wanted to sound a note of defiance, saying, ‘The young of Australia will always travel. They will always seek fun in distant parts. They will always reach out to the young of other nations. They will always be open, fun-loving, decent men and women.’ Later I said, ‘It will take a long time for these foul deeds to be seen in any kind of context. They can never be understood. They can never be excused. Australia has been affected very deeply, but the Australian spirit has not been broken. The Australian spirit will remain strong and free and open and tolerant. I know that is what all of those who lost their lives would have wanted, and I know it is what all of those who grieve for them would want.’

  After spending time with relatives, I went to a full briefing from all of the Australians leading the rescue operation: police, military, medical and consular. It included Mick Keelty, Commissioner of the AFP, and Ric Smith, our ambassador. I invited Simon Crean to be there and fully participate, along with John Anderson and me. A number of decisions were taken, including repatriation arrangements for bodies which had been identified.

  There had been much media comment on the temporary morgue, particularly the extensive use of ice to preserve remains in the very sultry weather, because of the absence of normal refrigeration. The media had been denied access to the morgue as close-up photographs and television coverage would have further distressed relatives. I wanted to visit the morgue, but was persuaded against this by Mick Keelty, who argued that it would prove impossible to keep the media away if I went. Later that evening, I spent some more time with relatives.

  The following day I had a full-scale meeting with all of those relatives or friends who had lost loved ones in the attack. Closed to the media, it was an emotional gathering. I wanted to assure them that the Government was doing all it could to expedite the victim identification process, which was obviously tugging at the heart-strings more than anything else. After speaking in general terms and assuring the gathering of the compassion of the entire nation, I invited the experts in different areas to provide more detailed briefings.

  After the meeting concluded, I stayed behind to talk to those who remained, offering as much comfort as I could on an individual basis, to scores of my fellow Australians unexpectedly bereaved by this evil terrorist attack. It was a sobering experience, which I will always remember. There was the couple from southern Sydney who showed me a photograph of their 23-year-old daughter, who had taken the full impact of the bomb explosion outside the Sari Club as she left the club with two friends. They speculated about what the girls had been discussing and tried, in their grief, to draw a little comfort from the belief that such had been the ferocity of the explosion to which their daughter had been exposed, she would have died quickly.

  One of the young victims had been an Olympic rower from Tasmania. His father and twin brother had come to Bali to retrieve his body. For a young man in his early 20s, death is always hard to come to terms with. A violent, unexpected death which snuffs out the life of a young and physically fit person is incomprehensible.

  As I moved from group to group during a two-hour period, I grasped how representative of the Australian nation had been the families torn apart by this terrible event. Its scars would stay indefinitely. In each case I tried to establish some personal engagement by asking very direct questions about their loved one. What had brought them to Bali? What did they know about the circumstances of their death? Were they in the Sari Club or Paddy’s Bar? Instinct told me whether a spontaneous hug or merely a firm handshake was the right greeting. I left that gathering feeling deep empathy towards these grieving Australians and congealed anger towards those responsible for their losses.

  For months after the attack I retained contact with some of the bereaved relatives. Some wrote letters or sent other messages and one or two telephoned me. I tried to respond as fully as possible. I knew that they were passing through intense grief and needed as much comfort as could be provided.

  Before leaving Bali later that day, I visited the site of the attack accompanied by the Police Commissioner, who was able at that early stage to provide a close reconstruction of what had occurred on the nigh
t. Mick Keelty then took me to the AFP operations centre, already in full swing. There was an Australian police complement of about a dozen, who had been joined by two officers from Scotland Yard; 34 British citizens had died in the attack. The investigation was already well advanced. The professional determination of the police was deeply impressive. They were men and women with a real mission.

  I had held a major news conference in Bali, early that day, during which I was closely questioned regarding the investigation then under way, as well as the possible causal link between Australia’s involvement in the fight against terrorism and the Bali attack. Much of the questioning, both from the Australian as well as the international media, followed a well-trodden path. To what extent, they asked, was the attack a consequence of our steadfast participation in the fight against terrorism? I did not take a backward step with my answers.

  I designated Sunday, 20 October as a national day of mourning for the victims of the Bali attack. Special church services as well as other events were held throughout the country. Janette and I attended the special service at St Paul’s, Manuka, in Canberra. It was also decided that a National Act of Commemoration should be held in Parliament House, to which all relatives and close friends of victims would be asked. It was held in the Great Hall on Thursday, 24 October 2002. It was a religious service, at which Bishop Tom Frame, the senior Anglican chaplain to the ADF, presided. A makeshift altar was erected, as had been done for the special service following the attacks of 11 September. Canberra lacked a cathedral-sized church, the largest being St Christopher’s Catholic Church in Manuka, which could only seat 300. Converting the Great Hall was a sensible compromise. It could hold up to 1000 people.