Quotes of the Day

Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono is beginning to sweat. It's midmorning in Pontianak, a town that sits astride the equator on the west coast of the island of Borneo. The damp heat is particularly oppressive in the airless indoor market where the front runner in Indonesia's coming presidential election is making a campaign appearance. But Yudhoyono, a 54-year-old ex-general who is often referred to by his initials S.B.Y., soldiers on, flashing his trademark avuncular smile as he stops to chat at stalls selling vegetables, chicken and fish. He listens patiently to gripes by shoppers about high food prices and by vendors about poor sales. Finally, he climbs atop a crate and, with a wipe of his brow, launches into his stump speech. If he's President, vows Yudhoyono, he'll bring stability, security, justice and prosperity. And he won't forget the masses, either, he pledges. There are few specifics, and Yudhoyono's delivery is more akin to that of a businessman at a luncheon than a populist politician pressing the flesh.

But the crowd—hungry to believe—listens closely and punctuates his words with repeated shouts of approval. Fruit seller Suparni says that unlike incumbent Megawati Sukarnoputri, who also visited Pontianak, Yudhoyono "cares for the little people. When [Megawati] came she only waved her hand from her car, and the window wasn't even open!"

"Little people" like Suparni can now make or break Indonesia's presidency. For the first time, Indonesians will be directly electing their leader, previously chosen by the country's legislature through backroom wheeling and dealing. In fact, the vote for President is part of an affirmation of the country's fledgling democracy. First were the polls in April to select federal, provincial and district assemblies. Billed at the time as the world's biggest one-day electoral exercise, they featured some 165,000 candidates and nearly 135 million voters. On July 5 is the presidential ballot, involving five teams of presidential and vice-presidential candidates. Should none win a majority—which is likely—the top two will contest a runoff in September.

The culmination of this long, deliberate exercise in democracy will mark a critical turning point for Indonesia. Since enduring the turmoil of Asia's financial crisis in 1997 and the bloody ouster of longtime dictator Suharto a year later, Indonesia has been inching its way toward establishing a fully democratic system of government. While there's still a long way to go—corralling the brooding power of the military and other special-interest groups remains a formidable challenge—the installation of a directly elected President bearing a mandate from the country's 238 million citizens represents a huge step forward along that journey. As the world's most populous Muslim state, a stable and peaceful Indonesia would serve as an iconic symbol for the Islamic world. The nation's fate is also being anxiously watched by other Southeast Asian governments, all of which are fully aware of the grave consequences for the region should their gigantic neighbor slip into economic and political chaos. "It's a chance to finally turn the page on the Suharto years," says Hans Vriens, managing director of Jakarta-based consulting firm APCO Indonesia. "A lot depends on who is elected, of course, but it should allow Indonesians to start looking to the future instead of over their shoulders."

Yudhoyono looks certain to be in the September runoff, should it take place. Opinion polls show him leading his rivals by 20 to 30 percentage points. After him, the picture is confused. Megawati and Wiranto, a former armed-forces chief, are running neck and neck, both consistently scoring in the low teens. Another candidate, the Islamist upper-house Speaker Amien Rais, receives nearly 20% in some surveys, in the single digits in other polls. For now, the smart money is on Wiranto joining Yudhoyono in the runoff. That would produce a battle of the generals, unsurprising in a country whose daunting challenges—a becalmed economy, rampant corruption, Islamic militancy and separatist tensions—are persuading many voters to plump for someone confident and decisive. Those are qualities the aloof and unadventurous Megawati is widely perceived to lack. Analysts and diplomats in Jakarta say that Megawati's term in office has been largely reactive, with virtually no attempts to tackle widespread corruption, the plunge in foreign investment, a soaring unemployment rate and a host of other serious problems. "People feel they've given Megawati a chance, but she has failed," says respected pollster Denny J.A. of the Indonesian Survey Institute.

The public mood has most benefited Yudhoyono, who was Megawati's chief security minister until he resigned in March after a public spat over access to the President. With his ability to connect with voters, and untainted so far by any accusations of human-rights violations during his military career, Yudhoyono has positioned himself as someone who is strong, but not a strongman. "I respect democracy and I respect human rights," Yudhoyono stressed to TIME last week. "But leadership also matters, and I can deliver on that too." For many Indonesians, Yudhoyono demonstrated that leadership during his tenure as security minister, when he was instrumental in bringing peace to two seemingly intractable areas of conflict between Muslims and Christians—Sulawesi and the Maluku Islands—where thousands had been killed. He also showed a tougher side, sending in the army to attempt a military solution in the restive province of Aceh, and acting as point man in the country's sometimes ambivalent crackdown on homegrown Islamic terrorists.

But what really sets the general apart from his fellow candidates is a Bill Clinton-like ability to communicate with ordinary Indonesians. Yudhoyono displays that quality in Kakap, a poor fishing village near Pontianak. Having walked through Kakap, querying residents about their problems, Yudhoyono is hemmed in by several hundred villagers, most of them dressed in patched clothing, their skin burnt dark mahogany by years of working in the sun. The air is heavy with a dizzying mix of odors: sour sweat, the sweet smell of decay from riverbank mud and the pervasive stench of drying fish. But Yudhoyono is unruffled by the clamor and the stink, waiting patiently as the village chief lists Kakap's gripes, concluding, "I hope this time that the central government will listen and do something."

"Unlike other politicians, I'm not going to promise you many things," Yudhoyono replies. Instead, he adds, he will remember what he has seen and been told in the village. "I've heard your hopes, your dreams ... I will give the orders to make sure there are more schools, that children get the clothes they need, that everyone gets enough rice." The delivery remains subdued, but its quiet dignity has the crowd cheering almost every sentence and chanting "Long live S.B.Y." as he leaves. "The difference between S.B.Y. and the other candidates," says Sarwono Kusumaatmadja, a minister during the Suharto era and member of the incoming parliament, "is that people understand and believe what he says."

Yudhoyono has distanced himself from his decades in the military. But with two ex-generals as major presidential contenders, some Indonesians fear that the military will again become a political force, as it was during Suharto's authoritarian 32-year rule. "Retired generals are unpredictable," says Salim Said, an expert on Indonesia's armed forces at the advisory group Indoconsult. "They may use the military as a political tool, like Suharto did."

Wiranto, 57, is particularly vulnerable on this score. He was once an aide to Suharto. And during his time as armed-forces chief, the Indonesian military was accused of causing hundreds of deaths and widespread destruction in East Timor, allegations surfaced of military involvement in riots that killed hundreds during Suharto's ouster, and eight student demonstrators were shot dead by soldiers. Wiranto categorically denies involvement in any of the events, and notes that in East Timor's case, its own Attorney General, as well as Indonesia's courts, have cleared him.

But his years as a top general have also helped him in a key area: conducting his presidential campaign with military precision. In stark contrast to the other candidates' constantly shifting schedules and delayed arrivals, Wiranto's team moves from one venue to the next exactly as planned, usually arriving within minutes of the allotted time. When he is delayed after his hired helicopter touches down in the wrong spot in the Central Java town of Purwokerto, Wiranto's motorcade races to the correct place to make up for lost time, roaring past gawping residents who evidently have no idea what VIP has suddenly descended among them.

Like Yudhoyono, Wiranto is no great orator, instead relying on gravitas and simplicity to convey his message. His features—which can be grim in repose—remain largely expressionless as he speaks to the 3,000-strong throng jammed into the town's stadium. And also like Yudhoyono, Wiranto is pitching his leadership credentials while being vague about how he will tackle Indonesia's challenges. His message is pithy: the country is in grave trouble and needs a strong man to run it; I'm that man; I will give you peace, justice, security.

Then it's time for the singing. This is the moment when Wiranto, a karaoke aficionado who has spent hundreds of dollars on voice coaching and has even released a CD of love songs, comes alive. He calls for an A chord from the somewhat bemused band of long-haired youths manning the guitars and drums. Then, his hips gyrating and arms waving, he belts out two familiar traditional love songs, holding the microphone out to the audience so they can sing the chorus, and bending down to sweep his palm along a line of outstretched hands—the picture of a star. The mostly twentysomething group closest to the stage cheers itself hoarse as he concludes the second song and is calling for a third, when the skies open and a tropical downpour clears the stadium.

Speeding back to his helicopter, Wiranto, who has missed lunch because of his tight schedule, suddenly has an inspiration. The entire 15-car convoy screeches to a halt in the middle of the road, and Wiranto and a local party official sit down at a roadside noodle stall built of bamboo and thatch. There are handshakes, even kisses. ("He kissed me here and here, he actually kissed me," squeals plump Ida to her friends, pointing to her cheeks.) Soon, the crowd of 30 villagers is laughing appreciatively as Wiranto cracks jokes between mouthfuls of beef noodles. An aide overpays grandly, and the convoy, which has blocked the road for 10 minutes, roars off again, leaving behind a smiling, waving group of villagers and the stall owner dancing an impromptu jig and waving his 200,000 rupiah ($21) in the air above his head.

Wiranto has steely good looks and can draw on the formidable war chest of Golkar, the Suharto-era holdover party that won the largest share of votes in the April elections and boasts the best grassroots machinery in the country. But a chief reason he trails Yudhoyono is the human-rights cloud still hovering over him. "I don't know about [Wiranto]," says Agus, a villager who lives near the noodle stall at which Wiranto stopped. "He seems a nice man. But I've read in the newspaper about his background. I haven't made up my mind."

The undecided voter is perhaps Megawati's only chance of re-election. Her advisers are still in shock at just how far and how fast their once seemingly Teflon-coated candidate has plummeted. Pundits once wondered whether anyone could give Megawati, 57, a run for her money, so unique was her combination of nationwide recognition and the fanatical loyalty she has received as the daughter of the country's founding father, Sukarno. But the President has seemed unable to recover from the twin surprises of her party's disastrous showing in the April parliamentary election (it lost about a quarter of its seats) and her own precipitously declining popularity. Megawati has floundered badly since the beginning of her campaign, alternately appearing testy and uninterested in fighting for a job that was always hers to lose.

She has made a belated attempt to change her style, recently holding a strained press conference at which her answers were brief and sometimes oblique, and for the first time in her presidency granting numerous interviews to the local media. Megawati has also announced a sudden string of policy initiatives. One example: a pledge to create 13 million new jobs, which analysts say will require a near doubling of the country's economic growth rate. She also promised to give a 15% pay rise and a 13th month of salary to each of the country's 3.6 million civil servants every year for the next five years. (That announcement, which would have cost billions of dollars, drew a rapid backpedaling from one of the President's ministers, Laksamana Sukardi, who said that the pay hikes would not be automatic but based on merit.) While the President's sudden flurry of activity after years of somnolence have had little impact on her low standing in the opinion polls, she may yet be saved—in this round of voting, at least. Should Megawati hold off Wiranto, she will have close to three months to woo back supporters she has lost. "Anything can happen during such a long period," says political scientist and Megawati speechwriter Rizal Mallarangeng, who compares Yudhoyono's current popularity to a stock-market bubble. "You know that at some point it's going to burst, but you don't know when."

External observers and Megawati's own supporters alike know that the President's chances of retaining her job depend far more on how she behaves than on her opponents' actions. "She's almost indifferent," says one close adviser, who adds that Megawati may simply be not hungry enough to win another term. To regain momentum, the President will have to reach out to the ordinary Indonesians who formed the bedrock of her past support. Says Rizal: "She's got to say, 'I've done my best, but I've made mistakes, I've disappointed you, I want to prove that I can change, that I can listen to you.'"

Listening is the strategy the front runner is adopting. In the fishing village of Kakap, a group of residents stand on the jetty, discussing Yudhoyono's visit. Fisherman Syarif Abubakar says he was impressed that the candidate bothered to go to their village to hear their problems. Kinanto, another fisherman, agrees, noting that although nearly two-thirds of the locals voted for Golkar in April, that doesn't mean they'll vote for its nominee, Wiranto, this time. On the other hand, he adds to a murmur of assent from the others, it doesn't mean they'll vote for Yudhoyono, either. "Of course, we are happy with anyone who makes the effort to come and visit us," says Kinanto. "But what happens when we vote is secret." And in that one sentence, you can hear Indonesians discovering the power of democracy.

• Simon Elegant | Pontianak
• By proving that he can connect with ordinary voters, Yudhoyono has emerged as the favorite to win Indonesia's presidency