Articles - Inside Indonesia: The peoples and cultures of Indonesia

Mama Yosefa wins a Goldman

A Papuan activist wins a prestigious prize for her work on the environment Agung Rulianto Yosefa Alomang has received the world's top environmental prize, but her struggle is far from over. An indigenous Amungme, from Timika, Irian Jaya, Yosefa has spent almost half her life fighting for the rights of the Amungme people against mining giant PT Freeport Indonesia. On 23 April 2001 in San Francisco, she was awarded the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize, which brings with it US$ 125,000 in cash. First awarded 12 years ago, this year eight activists were selected by an international board of judges to receive the Goldman Prize. 'Their struggles have shed light on how the environment is affected by wars, international businesses, economic policies and the tendency to replace long-term solutions with short-term interests,' said Richard N Goldman, the founder of the Goldman Environmental Prize. Goldman's late wife Rhoda H Goldman was a descendant of Levi Strauss, of the world-renowned clothing company. 'She has managed to become a leader in a male-dominated society,' said Emmy Hafild, executive director of the Indonesian Forum for the Environment (Walhi). Two years ago the 54-ear old 'Mama' Yosefa received the Yap Thiam Hien Award in recognition of her achievement in defending human rights, but she refused to go to Jakarta to receive the award. 'I've been fighting for the sake of the Irianese. It is only proper that I receive the award here so that the people of Irian Jaya will be aware of its significance,' said Yosefa, who has only attended school until the fourth grade. She began her fight when PT Freeport Indonesia appropriated the local people's land in the 1970s. Ten years ago, Freeport dismissed the right of the Amungme people to supply fruit and vegetables to the company and decided to import them from Australia and Java. The company then forcefully appropriated an 850-hectare vegetable plantation around the airport and in its place built a hangar, a Sheraton Hotel and some office buildings. To voice their disappointment the Amungme people cut up vegetables and spread them on the landing strip of Timika airport, and made a large bonfire in the middle of the strip. This not only prevented vegetable-carrying aircraft from landing but also aborted all other flights. Yosefa was thought to have masterminded the action. One night seven years ago armed soldiers dragged her and her husband from their bed. 'We were tortured like animals, beaten up and degraded with vile language,' she was quoted as saying in a report on human rights violations in Timika drawn up by Jayapura bishop Mgr Herman Munninghoff OFM. For two weeks Yosefa and her husband Markus Kwalik were detained in a room full of human faeces. Last year Yosefa set up the human rights organisation (Hamak). It also works to protect the environment and traditional cultures. Agung Rulianto /LH, Tempo Magazine May 1 - 7, 2001

Bravo the cat

Life among Papuan and Timorese political prisoners in Jakarta Jacob Rumbiak, with Louise Byrne For quite some time I lived in Block E in Kalisosok Prison in Surabaya, and Block A in Cipinang Prison in Jakarta. These blocks were reserved for political prisoners from East Timor and West Papua. There were other blocks in the prison, just as big as ours, and always one distinguished by the presence of a number of cats, mostly rather fat, who hung around the inmates. These particular inmates were 'koruptors'. For years in Indonesia the smartest businessmen have been koruptors. You won a government contract, stashed the money, got caught, and went to jail for two or three years. Thus, with minimal effort, your family accumulated a huge amount of money (with bank interest added) and only one member took the rap. Life in prison for the koruptors was fairly easy. Family and friends visited with meat, fruit, fish, cigarettes, rice, knives and money. There was a special room for sex if you wanted it, or you could always go home for a couple of days if you paid off two or three guards. None of the above applies to political prisoners. Jakarta is two thousand kilometres from East Timor and more than three from West Papua, so unless the Red Cross manages to keep track of where the army takes you, the military can hide its tortures behind the walls of its institutions that are situated all over the archipelago. One little lady from an Indonesian Christian church followed me to eleven different prisons, and I'll never forget the humbling experience of discovering, eventually, that she wasn't a soldier dressed in civilian clothes. As a political prisoner you assume your sentence will be shortened in one way or another. Forced to eat prison-prepared food, many die poisoned. Others hang themselves after hearing that their wives are raped or have run off with Indonesian soldiers. Jesus loves me, and my life is part of his design. Of that I'm sure. But two men from West Papua inspired me to use my time in prison constructively. The first was Drs. Albert Sefnat Kaliele, a very spiritual man, jailed in 1989 for subversion. We were in Kalisosok together. When Abdurrahman Wahid was elected president of Indonesia, he relieved Kaliele of his eighteen-year sentence (although he is now back in prison in Jayapura, this time on a charge of corruption for the misuse of AU$7). The other was Dr Thomas Wainggai, one of West Papua's most powerful intellectuals. In 1988 Dr Thomas was sentenced to life in prison for proclaiming the independence of 'West Melanesia'. His wife, who is Japanese, was jailed for eight years because she sewed the newly designed flag. Dr Thomas died in Cipinang Prison in 1996. At the moment I'm a refugee in Melbourne, and when I see Cathy Freeman on television, carrying the beautifully coloured flag of indigenous Australia, I often think about Dr Thomas. The world will also recognise these men one day, for Dr Thomas started our nonviolence campaign for independence and Kaliele is now leading it. Bravo Unlike most political prisoners I had a cat. A unique and clever cat called Bravo, who was my security and my very best friend. I found him, a lonely lost and hungry kitten, who soon befriended my family of baby birds who had fallen out of a tree. I taught the pigeons to carry messages to other prisoners, and Bravo learned to safeguard a key to my cell that I'd acquired by means of a small (but korupt-like) manoeuvre. With the key I was able to go to meetings at night - I would lock the empty cell, then Bravo would drag the key back through the grill by its pink soccer bootlace, and hide it in a special spot. Later, I'd whisper a code, and he'd bring me the key so I could let myself back in. His intelligence enabled discussions of issues like democracy and justice. It was, of course, our defence of these principles that condemned us to torture and prison, but they served equally to inspire our internment with a particular hue - a hue which the koruptors in the other block were unable to imbibe. Bravo stayed lean and clean leaping in and out of a drain catching little fish. He usually gave me these morsels of protein, or otherwise laid them, unmarked, at the feet of some of my colleagues. Joao Freitas, a Falintil commander from East Timor, was a regular recipient, perhaps because he spent so much time treating my injuries. By the time I got to Cipinang, my heart was weak from electric torture, and I thought my eyes would never recover from the years of confinement in the dark. Joao's love and dedication, and his skill with traditional medicine and acupuncture enabled my remarkable recovery. When President Habibie had me transferred to a military institution, Bravo adopted the patronage of Xanana Gusmao. Six months later Xanana was also put to house arrest, and Bravo, now called 'Rumbiak', accompanied him to a decrepit but well-guarded house in central Jakarta. Here, apparently, he occupied himself entertaining the numerous diplomats and dignitaries who visited East Timor's imprisoned chief. During the violence that attended East Timor's referendum, Xanana was moved again, this time in secret, to the safety of the British Embassy. But in the rush, everyone forgot about Bravo. President's Cat Vicki Tchong is one of the unsung heroines of the Timorese freedom movement. In 1975, after the brutal invasion of her homeland, the Tchong family escaped to Melbourne where Vicki spent years creating a relationship between her wealthier Chinese-Timorese community and other more politically motivated Timorese - who never had any money but nevertheless ran a successful independence campaign. In 1999, just before the historic referendum, Vicki moved to Jakarta to arrange for East Timorese students to return home. Living in one dingy rent-a-room after another, and with nothing except a cheap mobile phone, she managed to find the students, organise visas, buy air tickets, and arrange safe exits. Eventually she had fifty frightened Timorese sitting in the airport, ready to fly to Dili. And Bravo was with them; as usual, in the middle of the mob. The Garuda officer said he couldn't fly, not without a cat box, so money was paid to find one. Then it was deemed he needed insurance, so money was paid to get some. Then, a separate compartment was required, so money was paid for that too. Then, and finally, the officer simply said it was impossible for the cat to fly to Dili. Since the students' escape was paramount, Vicki quickly re-christened Bravo 'Kay Rala Jose Alexandre Gusmao, the President's Cat' and left him behind with some Chinese friends in Jakarta. Less than a month later the world gave birth to a new nation. But democracy, as they say, is easier said than done. The East Timorese are facing the challenges with the courage for which they are renowned. Indonesians are trying too, but struggling with the concept - primarily because there are still a few fat cats skulking about. Me, and all the other West Papuans, are still waiting for some. But when my country does manage to discard the thin layer of politics that binds us to a Southeast Asian empire, and becomes instead a new nation on the western rim of Melanesia Pacific, I want Bravo to be there, pulling the rope that raises the flag. It's the sort of prize that's absolutely appropriate for a lean, clean and personable cat who always got left behind. Story by Jacob Rumbiak (jacobrumbiak@hotmail.com); edited by Louise Byrne. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Action in Europe

What are Europeans doing about Papua? Siegfried Z'llner and Feije Duim Three kinds of organisations in Europe have a special interest in Papua. Papuans fleeing Indonesian state violence have been coming to Europe for years. Especially in the Netherlands, a community of some 250 has developed. They have long been divided into two factions - one more radical, the other more church-oriented. But since the situation in Papua has gained momentum, Papuan efforts in the Netherlands have become more unified. The most effective lobby is organised by PaVo (Papuan Peoples). With an office in Utrecht, its representative Viktor Kaisiepo travels around the world, promoting the issues put up by the Papua Congress of 2000. PaVo maintains good relations with the Papua Congress and its Presidium, sharing its dream of independence. It also relates well (and lobbies together with) the human rights organisation in Papua, Elsham, sharing its dream of non-violent transformation and of Papuans one day living free of the fear of human rights abuse. Activists form the second group. In Europe several well established and many smaller human rights groups are active on Papuan issues. Many became more active as they shifted attention from East Timor to Papua. Of course we have our branches of Amnesty and Human Rights Watch, managing information and urging for action. But regional human rights organisations such as Watch Indonesia! and others are gaining in importance. The latter have been stimulated enormously by the advocacy abilities of the German West Papua Network (see box). The network gathers information and co-ordinates action, linking churches and human rights activists, and working together closely with Elsham. The Uniting Churches in the Netherlands (UCN) have also linked up. The network also has a close relation with the World Council of Churches (WCC), for instance to facilitate Papuan testimonies at the UN Commission on Human Rights in Geneva. All these organisations lobby for the right of Papuans to organise, to speak out, and to develop without fear of repression. Churches, missions and development agencies, the more traditional partners of the largely Christian Papuans, make up the third group. Two of the most prominent are the German United Evangelical Mission VEM (Vereinigte Evangelische Mission) and the Dutch Global Ministries UCN. The most active European development agencies are the German (Protestant) Brot fuer die Welt, Dutch Icco (Protestant), Dutch Cordaid (Catholic) and the Franciscans, and the Dutch humanist development organisation Hivos. Since early 2001, Novib-Oxfam (general) and Justitia & Pax (Catholic) take a more active interest in the area. All these organisations are broadly interested in institutional and human resources development, socio-economic development, the environment, human rights, indigenous peoples issues and political advocacy. They often coordinate their actions. So the Dutch churches and Icco started some initiatives with the WCC, and others joined in. They tend to see Papua as an important issue within Indonesia, so that human rights are on their agenda but not independence. They support the efforts of Indonesian non-government organisations (NGOs) to work with Papuan ones. Several smaller church bodies (at the parish level) in Germany and the Netherlands are involved in exchange programs with the Evangelical Christian Church of Papua (GKI Papua). Growing feelings of solidarity lead them increasingly to join demonstrations or write letters against torture and other human rights abuse. Other smaller, mainly orthodox Calvinist and evangelical groups are more interested in church and community development issues than in human rights. Dr Siegfried Z(szoellner@t-online.de) coordinates the West-Papua-Netzwerk in Germany. Feije Duim (F.Duim@sowkerken.nl) works at Global Ministries, Uniting Churches in the Netherlands. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Freeport's troubled future

Without Suharto, who will protect Freeport from itself? Denise Leith In 1936 a Dutch geologist named Jean Jacques Dozy on an expedition to the centre of West New Guinea was struck by the magnificence of a 180-metre barren black rock wall covered in green splotches standing above an alpine meadow. Forbes Wilson, a geologist with Freeport Sulphur of the US, first heard of Dozy's discovery in 1959. He persuaded the company to send him to West Papua the following year. After seeing Dozy's 'Ertzberg' (Ore Mountain), Wilson was so excited that he correctly predicted that Ertsberg would prove to be the largest above-ground copper deposit discovered at that time. The political turmoil in West New Guinea and the subsequent takeover of the region by the left-leaning Sukarno meant that in the early sixties the project was considered too great a political risk for Freeport. However, the company did not forget the possibilities it had glimpsed. Just two weeks after the military coup in Indonesia in 1965 the company opened negotiations with the generals in Jakarta. Although the political situation in Indonesia was extraordinarily unstable, Freeport's connections to the highest echelons of power in Washington, including the CIA, the Pentagon, and the White House, must have given it some measure of assurance, as did the messages it was receiving out of Jakarta. With the balance of power firmly with the American mining company there was little the insecure regime would not do for Freeport and its powerful friends. Jakarta requested that the company produce its own contract. Despite a question over the legality of Jakarta signing over Papuan assets, in April 1967 Freeport was the first foreign company to sign with the new government. The Freeport contract signalled the beginning of a complex but mutually supportive and beneficial relationship between the American company, the regime and its arm of repression (TNI) that was to last another thirty years. Under the contract Freeport was given mining rights for thirty years within a 250,000 acre concession. The company was under no obligation to the traditional Papuan owners of the land, who were excluded from the consultations. Freeport was not required to pay compensation, nor was it obliged to participate in local or provincial development. There were no environmental restrictions on the mining operation. El Dorado In 1988, with the Ertsberg mine nearing exhaustion, Freeport announced that only a couple of kilometres away from the hole that Ertsberg had become it had found its El Dorado: Grasberg. Protected both physically and politically by the regime, the company was given two new contracts which by 1994 allowed it to explore approximately 9 million acres and mine one of the most promising mineralised zones of the globe for another 50 years. With Suharto and Freeport sharing an overriding desire to turn the copper and gold of the Carstensz Range into foreign currency as expeditiously as possible, the company was so successful that it became Jakarta's largest taxpayer, the largest employer in the province, and the source of over 50% of West Papua's GDP. Many Indonesians felt that their all-powerful president was unable to deny the American company anything. However, such an assessment ignored the complexity of the relationship and the complementary interests which defined it. In 1967 the New Order government had simply been grateful for Freeport's support, but by the early seventies the regime's confidence had grown. It demanded a 10% share in the operation. With the announcement of the discovery of Grasberg and the extraordinary wealth that it promised, Suharto's demands on the company increased dramatically. Eventually, Freeport financed Suharto's government, his closest associates, and even the president into the company on exceptionally favourable, if not questionable, terms. By the early nineties the American company had become an integral part of Suharto's patronage system. The president put Freeport to good political use as well. To all intents and purposes it became a quasi-state organisation for Jakarta in West Papua as the principal developer and administrator of its project area and surrounds. Through indirect support of the transmigration settlements and direct financial and practical support of the military in the concession area, the company also assisted Jakarta in its policy of 'Indonesianisation'. Finally, back in the US Freeport became an important public relations agent for the regime. Far from Suharto being a puppet of the company, Freeport had became a compliant and valuable asset which, with the company's complicity, was exploited by the president. The confrontation between a highly traditional peoples and a Western mining transnational has given rise to complicated social issues. Initially the company cared nothing for the traditional landowners' rights and little for their concerns. By the early nineties, the benefits of Freeport's presence to the traditional owners were negligible. After the signing of the new contracts with Jakarta and the realisation that the company would remain in West Papua for another fifty years, Freeport began to make small efforts at community development. However, it was not until the release of the Australian Council For Overseas Aid (Acfoa) report into human rights violations in the Freeport concession in 1995 that the company began to seriously address the expanding social problems. Lacking direction, the development funds that Freeport initially pumped into the community after 1995 only served to heighten existing tensions by increasing divisions within, and between, competing landowning groups. By 1998 such tensions forced the company to reassess it programs and the distribution of development funding. Generally over the last six years Freeport has been successful in expanding employment opportunities, building schools, medical clinics, a hospital and homes to improve the lives of the traditional landowners. However, development efforts continue to be undermined by the culture of the company, its inexperience, the behaviour of the local authorities, the fractures within the local community, and thirty years of antagonism. Today the area is awash with Freeport funds, while the mining company struggles to find answers to questions it is not equipped to deal with. Military Freeport had always welcomed the military in its contract area, and considered logistic and financial support for TNI a small price to pay for protection of its physically vulnerable operation. However, with the publication of the Acfoa report the company's relationship with the military left it morally and legally vulnerable, threatening to implicate Freeport directly in human rights abuses. Recognising that the continuation of this close relationship precluded any improvement in relations with the indigenous community, Freeport was eventually in the ignoble position of relying on the military to protect its operation while simultaneously attempting to distance itself from this increasingly discredited organisation. Freeport's subsequent decision to throw money at TNI only succeeded in strengthening the association in the eyes of the traditional landowners. Freeport contends that it has always been committed to operating environmentally responsibly by adopting home-state standards. However, the history of the Freeport operation in West Papua demonstrates otherwise. The company's operating practices continue to destroy the environment to a degree which far exceeds that of the notorious neighbouring mines of Ok Tedi and Bougainville, and would be unacceptable in the US. Moreover, it is impossible for Freeport to predict what the long term damage of its operation will be. Despite the great wealth still to be recovered in the Freeport concession, the directors of the parent company, Freeport-McMoRan Copper and Gold Inc, are keen to sell the operating subsidiary in West Papua. The political uncertainties associated with the future of the unitary state of Indonesia are obviously of great concern to the directors. Freeport may be the lowest-cost copper producer in the world, but the loss of its erstwhile powerful protector in Indonesia has also made Freeport potentially vulnerable in a number of areas, so that the potential costs of its operation in West Papua could rise substantially. Unlike the New Order era, the current ministers in Jakarta dislike the company and its heavy-handed tactics. They have at times found it expedient to make life difficult for Freeport. Investigations within Indonesia into the corruption, collusion and nepotism of the New Order regime, coupled with the fact that the US Foreign Corrupt Practices Act forbids American companies from paying bribes, may force Freeport to legally defend its questionable relationship with Suharto and his cronies. The company is also being attacked within Indonesia over its environmental record and may eventually be held financially responsible for the damage it has created and will continue to create in the future. Mine closure costs could be extraordinary. Freeport's inability to resolve the escalating community relations problems also represents an ongoing financial and political burden on the company for which no end is in sight. Finally, the financial and political costs of supporting the military, not listed in any Freeport balance sheet, is rising. American law courts have ruled that US companies can be held responsible for human rights violations which are carried out by it or on its behalf, of which it was a knowing beneficiary, or of which it was aware and which it could have prevented. Freeport's relationship with the Indonesian military therefore leaves it dangerously at risk. Today the future is as uncertain for this once seemingly invincible company as it is for its once powerful connections. Denise Leith (djleith@hotmail.com) recently completed a PhD at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia, on Freeport. A detailed article by her about the Suharto-Freeport relationship will appear soon in The Contemporary Pacific (Vol. 14, No. 1). Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

The backlash

Jakarta's secret strategy to deal with Papuan nationalism Richard Chauvel On 8 June 2000, the Director General of National Unity in the Department of Internal Affairs, Ermaya Suradinata, held a meeting with representatives of the military and intelligence community in Jakarta. Among the latter were Bakin, Bais, Kostrad and Kopassus. From the meeting emerged a framework for Jakarta's response to the challenge posed by Papuan nationalism. By mid November 2000, the report of the meeting was circulating widely in Jayapura and its contents were summarised in the weekly Tifa Papua. The context for this meeting was the Papuan Congress held a few days earlier. This was a critical juncture in the development of the central government's policy towards Papua. President Gus Dur had made important symbolic gestures to Papuan opinion during his visit for New Year. He declined the invitation to open the congress, but he did contribute one billion rupiah to facilitate a meeting that was to reiterate the Papuan demand for independence. In the first half of 2000 the Papuan independence movement had gained significant momentum. Through the congress and the earlier General Assembly (Musyawarah Besar), the Papuan Presidium Council had acquired legitimacy and been recognised by the Indonesian authorities in Jakarta and Jayapura as the de facto leaders. The document signed by Ermaya Suradinata reveals much about how Jakarta assesses developments in Papua. It observes that the atmosphere down to the village level after the congress was euphoric about the idea of Merdeka. The 'conspiratorial groups' supporting Merdeka were increasingly cohesive, and were endeavouring to 'socialise' the congress results throughout Irian Jaya and beyond. Nevertheless, despite this appreciation of the Papuan enthusiasm for independence, the document estimates support at only 10-20%. Particularly revealing is the analysis of these 'conspiratorial groups'. A diagram attached to the report, entitled 'Papuan political conspiracy', backgrounds the pro-independence Papuan leaders. Besides well-known public figures such as Theys Eluay and Tom Beanal, the diagram includes two former governors, one ambassador and a couple of members of the national parliament, one of the latter being the new governor Jaap Solossa. The people in the diagram represent a broad spectrum of opinion within the Papuan political elite. It thus illustrates one of Jakarta's most difficult problems: the 'conspiracy' contains many of the Papuans who have achieved most in the Indonesian system. In an unintended manner, the document supports the common assertion that all Papuans, even those who serve the Indonesian state, in their heart of hearts are pro-'M' (Merdeka, or Independence). The document recognises that even some provincial officials have been 'contaminated' by the Merdeka ideal, and recommends 'strong sanctions' against those who openly support independence. In September 2000 the Minister of Internal Affairs followed this up with an instruction to the governor to take unspecified action against pro-independence officials. This writer often saw one of those named in the report, Filip Karma, in Jayapura dressed in his Indonesian bureaucratic attire, proudly wearing a large Papuan flag pinned to his chest. These senior Papuan officials are not the key leaders of the independence movement, but their inclusion in Jakarta's version of the 'Papuan political conspiracy' highlights how fragile the foundations of Indonesian authority in Papua are. The Ermaya Suradinata memorandum to the Minister of Internal Affairs argues for 'immediate, concrete and appropriate' actions to anticipate the burgeoning pro-independence climate. It envisages graduated activities, both overt and clandestine, targeting a broad spectrum of Papuan society. The proposed covert activities include recruiting, training and supporting pro-Indonesian militia at village level. The less sinister means involve providing those leaders who support Indonesia with government positions at all levels from the village to the province. Honours for local leaders and the elevation of 'national heroes' from Irian Jaya are two further suggestions. The memorandum stresses the need for consistency in official central government statements in order not to confuse provincial officials - no doubt a veiled criticism of Gus Dur and his ministers. At the provincial level, the draft strategy envisages creating a more 'conducive' environment by raising the level of material welfare in Papuan society. This, it is hoped, will improve the government's credibility and persuade people to support Indonesia. Some of the approach and several specific measures advocated in Ermaya Suradinata's memorandum appear to have been influential. A 'crash program' of economic aid is consistent with the objective of raising welfare. It has so far distributed Rp 410 billion, nearly the size of the provincial budget again, to the district level administration (kabupatan). Its aim is to support social and economic development, human resources and places of worship. Jakarta also clearly promotes regional autonomy, although whether its implementation will meet Papuan expectations is yet to be seen. Habibie's policy of dividing the province into three, rejected in the governor's draft special autonomy legislation, seems to have been put on the backburner. The detention and trial of some presidium leaders, and the rapprochement with other members of the elite also reflects some of the proposals. However, there is so far little evidence that the memorandum's recommendation to minimise the use of force has been widely heard by the security forces in Irian Jaya. Richard Chauvel (richard.chauvel@vu.edu.au) teaches at Victoria University, Melbourne, Australia. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Self-determination or territorial integrity?

There is growing international concern over West Papua Nic Maclellan For decades, human rights abuses in West Papua have received attention from advocacy groups, while environmental organisations have lobbied over pollution from the Freeport mine. But in the wake of Suharto's fall, the 1999 Timor crisis and growing tensions in Maluku and Aceh, there is increasing international concern over West Papua, as the crisis forces itself onto the regional and international agenda. Most governments have dropped their mantra that West Papua's independence movement is irrelevant and lacks popular support. Now, they express concern over human rights abuses by the Indonesian military in West Papua, while stressing their support for Indonesia's territorial integrity. Growing international attention has been given to the call for West Papuan self-determination, but it has been overshadowed by a focus on the impact that independence will have on Indonesia's democratic transformation. Pacific links Many commentators view the current crisis in West Papua through the prism of Indonesian unity, ignoring historic ties that bind West Papuans to Melanesia and the Pacific islands. Neighbouring governments in Australia and Papua New Guinea have repeatedly asserted that West Papua is historically part of Indonesia (concerned as refugees again spill over the border into Papua New Guinea). Japan, Asean and the European Union (EU) have spoken against 'secession' in Aceh and West Papua. Even Timor's new leaders have also suggested caution rather than rushing to political independence. However, the clear mood in the Pacific islands is that historically, culturally and geographically, West Papua has always been part of Melanesia and the wider Pacific region. Even under Dutch administration, West Papuans were active in regional Pacific meetings, before Indonesia's take-over in the 1960s severed links with other island peoples. West Papuans participated in the founding of key regional bodies. In 1950, Pacific island delegates came together in Suva, Fiji for the first South Pacific Conference. West Papuan leaders Marcus Kaisiepo and Nicolas Jouwe from the colony of Dutch New Guinea joined fellow Pacific Island delegates at this important regional meeting of the newly formed South Pacific Commission. Photographs from the time show Kaisiepo seated beside Ratu Sir Edward Cakobau of Fiji, Albert Henry of the Cook Islands and Prince Tu'ipelehake of the Kingdom of Tonga. In the 1960s, West Papuans were studying at the Fiji School of Medicine and the Pacific Theological College in Suva. Pacific churches worked together to found the Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC) after the Malua Conference of Churches and Missions in Samoa in 1961. At this founding meeting, a church delegation came from Dutch New Guinea, with Reverend Kabel and Reverend Maloali of the Evangelical Christian Church joining fellow Christians from around the region to establish the regional ecumenical body. West Papuan exiles have played a vital role in government, education and civil society in Papua New Guinea since they left their homeland in the late 1960s. Today, these links are being recreated. Some Pacific island governments are providing increased support for West Papua's quest for independence. At the September 2000 United Nations Millennium Summit in New York, leaders from Nauru, Vanuatu and Tuvalu raised the West Papuan issue - the first countries to declare support for West Papuan independence at the UN. Four West Papuan leaders were given official delegate status at the 31st Pacific Islands Forum in October 2000 as members of the Nauru delegation. At the Forum, Vanuatu, Nauru and other countries supported the push for human rights in the troubled country, even as they deferred to Australian and PNG sensitivities by acknowledging Indonesia's current political sovereignty. The Forum governments issued an unprecedented statement calling for peaceful dialogue on the future of the country, and an end to human rights abuses. West Papuan Presidium member Franzalbert Joku welcomed the statement: 'After four decades, we are back in our natural habitat, the South Pacific.' Jakarta's proposal for a Western Pacific Forum, to be discussed in June 2001, seems to be in part a tactical response to the islands' initiative. The next Pacific Islands Forum will be held in Nauru in August 2001, ensuring that West Papua will remain on the agenda. West Papuan leaders have welcomed the Forum's April 2001 decision to accept Indonesia as a post-Forum 'dialogue partner', as they are seeking international support for a peaceful dialogue with the Indonesian government. UN review Mobilisation on the ground in West Papua is being supported by international diplomatic efforts. Many Presidium Dewan Papua leaders regard the December 1961 flag-raising as a valid declaration of independence from the Netherlands. They are seeking international support for a review of the so-called Act of Free Choice in 1969, arguing that this vote was deeply compromised, and cannot be regarded as a true act of self-determination. Scholars in Europe and the UK are researching the Dutch and UN role in this vote (see article by Richard Chauvel in this issue). United Nations General Assembly resolution 2504 (XXIV) of 19 November 1969 'took note' of the report of Special Rapporteur Ortiz Sanz about the Act of Free Choice, without formally endorsing it. West Papuans are now calling on the international community to review the UN resolution. They are gaining some support amongst Pacific Island Forum members. Only three island nations were independent of their colonial powers at the time of Indonesia's annexation in 1969 and decolonisation issues strike an emotional chord with Pacific peoples (especially as French, British and US colonies in the Pacific - such as Guam, New Caledonia and American Samoa - are still listed with the UN Decolonisation Committee). Even though most governments shy away from the issue of West Papuan self-determination, there is a significant focus on human rights abuses by the Indonesian armed forces. While supporting Indonesia's territorial integrity, a November 2000 statement from the EU presidency 'encourages the Indonesian authorities' efforts to find a solution to regional disputes through dialogue rather than by force'. At government level, Indonesia's stability and human rights issues are a focus of inter-regional meetings (for example, an EU-Australia ministerial meeting in Stockholm on 2 February 2001 agreed to work together to support Indonesia's efforts to ensure 'peace and stability in its backyard'.) In 2000, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Mary Robinson visited Indonesia, expressing her concerns about human rights violations in West Papua. She reaffirmed the need for peaceful dialogue when she met with West Papuan human rights advocates during the April 2001 session of the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva. The former Irish president committed herself to working to improve the situation, reflecting awareness and support in Ireland for the West Papuan issue. At the UN human rights session, the Netherlands and the EU made statements, stressing the need for a genuine dialogue between Jakarta and the Papuans. For many years, international lobbying on West Papua was conducted by exiled members of the Organisasi Papua Merdeka (OPM). This has now been supplemented by members of the Presidium Dewan Papua, and other church and NGO activists. Early in 2001, John Rumbiak of the West Papuan Institute for Human Rights Study and Advocacy (Elsham) travelled in North America and Europe to lobby on human rights issues. His visit to Canada was the first time a West Papuan human rights expert had toured the country, giving talks to the public and university students and meeting with government and NGOs. The newly formed West Papua Action Network (Wespan) plans to continue lobbying on behalf of human rights and self-determination and establishing an ongoing network of supporters. On 2 April 2001, Rumbiak intervened in the plenary session of the Commission on Human Rights in Geneva on behalf of the World Council of Churches. He highlighted the worsening human rights situation in West Papua as the result of repressive measures adopted by Indonesia in response to the West Papuan demand to exercise their right of self-determination. Wahid The Wahid government has been under increased pressure inside and outside Indonesia to investigate such human rights abuses. In the face of police intransigence, the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) has been conducting an inquiry into the Abepura incident on 7 December 2000, in which police raided student dormitories, with three deaths and many detained and tortured. Wahid supported autonomy for Papua at the beginning of his presidency, but this support fell victim to growing elite resistance in Jakarta to Wahid's policies. Proposals from West Papuan intellectuals and officials for a new autonomy deal are currently under consideration in Jakarta, but may falter because of concern over 'separatism' (Maluku is also partly Melanesian, and pro-Melanesian sentiment could spread). While domestic Indonesian politics will have an important impact on West Papua, international opinion on human rights is setting the context for Jakarta's next moves. Australia remains a key player, especially as the incoming Bush Administration has welcomed its leading role in Timor in 1999. However for more than twenty years, Australia was one of few countries to give de jure recognition to Indonesian sovereignty over East Timor, only changing policy after the massacres committed by military-backed militias. There is a growing clamour for a similar policy change on West Papua, with Australian public opinion deeply shocked by events in Timor. Since 1999, there has been increased attention on West Papua in the Australian media. Small West Papua solidarity committees are active in Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Brisbane and Canberra, building awareness in broader church, trade union and human rights circles. Members of Parliament in the Federal and New South Wales Parliaments have joined committees in support of West Papuan rights. In October 2000, the Australian Council for Trade Unions (ACTU) signed a pledge of support for West Papuan human rights. Ironically, Jakarta blames Australian NGOs for agitating on West Papuan independence, although the issue of self-determination is a sensitive one for many NGOs which run development programs in Indonesia and see West Papua as part of Asia rather than the Pacific. With the Australian Labor Party likely to win government in national elections in late 2001, the role of the labour movement will be crucial in influencing government policy. In Australia, both major parties maintain a position in support of Indonesian sovereignty over West Papua, but the issue is taking on increasing importance for civil society groups around the country. The fortieth anniversary of the December 1961 declaration will be a focal point around the world. It will serve to sharpen the international community's dilemma of whether to work for Indonesian territorial integrity with human rights, or for Papuan self-determination. Nic Maclellan (nicmaclellan@optushome.com.au) worked with the Pacific Concerns Resource Centre (PCRC) in Suva, Fiji between 1997-2000. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Towards a New Papua

When they hear the sacred texts of the church, Papuans see a better future Benny Giay In the Papuan mind, Papuans are Papuans. You cannot turn Papuans into Indonesians. Every Papuan, no matter who they are, believes that Indonesians and Papuans are different. This is borne out by experience. In the 1970s a church worker in Beoga, in the Carstenz Range where the Damal people live, wrote a report about a non-Papuan government official who felt uneasy. The official knew he was not having much success persuading the Papuans that they were Indonesians (or that Indonesians were Papuan?). He had given endless lectures, in church as well as in his government offices, yet still the people believed they were different to the Indonesians. 'Mister district head', they said, 'you are Indonesian, we are Damal.' They pointed to the differences in food and clothes, skin colour and hair to prove their point: Damal people are not Indonesians, and Indonesians are not Damal. When the Indonesian parliament in Jakarta sent a delegation led by Abdul Gafur to Papua in August 1998 to get to the bottom of why people wanted a Free Papua, Mrs Agu Iwanggin, deputy synod secretary of the Papuan Protestant church (GKI Papua) explained it to him. At the bottom there is God, because God created people to be different. Papuans are different to Javanese, and different to other people too. God gave Papua to Papuans as a home, so they could eat sago and sweet potatoes there. God gave them a penis gourd (koteka) and loincloth (cawat) for clothes. God gave them curly hair and black skin. Papuans are Papuans. They can never be turned into Javanese or Sumatrans, nor vice versa. The Javanese were given Java. Tahu and tempe is their food. Their skin is light and their hair straight. The real problem is that those in power in this republic have tried as best they could to make Papuans talk, think, look and behave like Javanese (or Sumatrans), and that goes against the order of God's creation. That is where the conflict comes from. How to end it? Let the Papuans and the Javanese each develop according to their own tastes and rhythms, each in their own land. In the same meeting, held in the provincial parliament building with the delegation from Jakarta, the Rev Herman Saud, chairperson of the GKI Papua synod, said: 'When the Indonesians came to Papua, I was still young. With both my hands (he said, lifting up his hands) I took down the West Papua flag, the Morning Star, and with the same hands I raised the Red-and-White. From that moment I was taught to be an Indonesian. But I'm probably stupid, because I failed to become an Indonesian. For ever since then I have heard Indonesians say: Papuans are stupid, Papuans can't do it, Papuans are lazy, they are drunkards.' Faith For many years, the church's presence among the people in this land has undeniably been an inspiration and a pillar for the Papuan people's journey. The church has played the role of development pioneer, it has mediated between the government and the people, it has been a peacemaker and a prophetic voice addressing those in power. But rarely do we hear how the Christian faith that the church preaches has inspired a people who are oppressed. Let me explain some of the ways in which the gospel has given strength to people 'passing through the valley of darkness'. The church has been working among the people in this land from February 1855 until now. Over the last three decades, people came to regard it as a liberating institution. Or at least as an alternative, perhaps a fortress of last resort, the bearer of new hope for a society shackled by the cold ideology of development that the New Order government taught. The church has always preached redemption from sin, and the struggle for truth and justice in this world. But often people hear what they want to hear and interpret the message according to their needs. It is not surprising that the gospel the church spreads often functions by absorbing the aspirations for freedom in a New Papua. It becomes a means and an inspiration for the fight for freedom, on the understanding that God supports the freedom of an independent West Papua. Such an interpretation grows directly out of their ominous experience of domination by outsiders in every area, whether ideological, social or economic. The Bible becomes a 'window' that gives people new possibilities, new dimensions to see a better world than the one they live in every day. The Bible portrays a new world, free from manipulation, intimidation and trauma. It lifts up the eyes of those who are oppressed to a new world. Sometimes people see in this new world a New Papua, an independent West Papua. At the level of the village and the ordinary congregation, the biblical texts often acquire a powerful new meaning, because people read them in the context of their struggle for emancipation. The texts give new strength to Papuans who feel oppressed as they read. Unconsciously and unintentionally, Papuans in this situation identify their own experience of struggle with that of the people of Israel who struggled to leave Egypt. Everyone reads the Bible through their own eyes. The Bible gives them light and new energy for an emancipatory struggle against the shackles of trauma and ideology. I caught something of that energy once when I heard an OPM fighter say to a preacher in a village who was trying to persuade him to surrender: 'Father, you have forgotten the gospel'. For the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted perish forever; O Lord, you have heard the desire of the humble; You will strengthen their heart, You will incline your ear To vindicate the orphan and the oppressed, That man who is of the earth may cause terror no more. 'Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise', says the Lord, 'I will set him in the safety for which he longs.' [Psalms 9:18, 10:17-18, 12:5] The church and many theologians will probably argue that this way of reading the Bible cannot be justified. Yet the very presence of a church that preaches these texts makes people engaged in a struggle for freedom do it anyway. The road to a New Papua free from fear, manipulation and intimidation is a long one, but it has to be trod. Many thorn bushes litter the path. That is why the journey must be well planned, and Papuans must undertake it in a great spirit of liberty. So may it be. Dr Benny Giay (sttwpirja@jayapura.wasantara.net.id) teaches at the Walter Post Theological College near Jayapura. This article and the accompanying box were extracted with permission from his book, 'Menuju Papua Baru' (Jayapura/ Port Numbay: Deiyai/ Elsham Papua, 2000). Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Where nationalisms collide

History is central to the politics of West Papua Richard Chauvel In late May and early June 2000, thousands of Papuans gathered to attend the Second Papuan Congress. Its name drew a connection with the first congress held in 1961, before Papua became a part of Indonesia. Its purpose: to 'correct the course of Papuan history'. The history that Papuan nationalists sought to correct was that of Papua's integration into Indonesia during the 1960s. Their interpretation of it was summarised in the first three resolutions of the congress: The people of Papua have been sovereign as a nation and a state since 1 December 1961. The people of Papua, through the Second Congress, reject the 1962 New York Agreement on moral and legal grounds as the agreement was made without any Papuan representation. The people of Papua, through the Second Congress, reject the results of Pepera (the Act of Free Choice) because it was conducted under coercion, intimidation, sadistic killings, military violence and immoral conduct contravening humanitarian principles. Accordingly, the people of Papua demand that the United Nations revoke resolution 2504, 19 December [sic - actually November] 1969. History is no less important for Indonesian nationalists. Indonesia conducted a twelve-year long campaign to force the Netherlands to relinquish control of the last remnant of Indonesia. President Sukarno constructed the struggle to 'return' West Irian as an issue to unify the nation to complete the revolution. Sukarno's campaign enjoyed the support of all prominent political leaders and parties. Indonesians derive satisfaction from the fact that, through the UN's acceptance of the results of the 1969 Act of Free Choice, the international community had endorsed the process through which West Irian was 'returned'. Sukarno's daughter, the now vice president Megawati Sukarnoputri, captured the sense of pride many Indonesians feel when in 1999 she recalled a childhood conversation with her father. Why had he visited Irian, it was so far away, she had asked. To which he replied: 'Without Irian Jaya Indonesia is not completeThe words ironically echoed those of the Dutch at the time of Indonesia's independence struggle: 'The Indies lost, everything lost'. Backwater West Papua was incorporated into the Netherlands East Indies during the nineteenth century more to pre-empt Germany, Britain or the Australian colonies taking an interest rather than for any economic or political advantage. Until the Netherlands transferred sovereignty to an independent Indonesia in December 1949, West Papua remained an economic and administrative backwater. West Papua was where the colonial Dutch exiled Indonesian nationalists as well as their own less successful officials. Until the Pacific War West Papua was administered in conjunction with the neighbouring Maluku islands to the west. Many Ambonese, Keiese and Menadonese were employed as officials, police, teachers and missionaries. This gave the colonial administration a curious duality. It was as much east Indonesian as it was Dutch. Papuan Christianity and use of the Malay (Indonesian) language was strongly influenced by the east Indonesian teachers and missionaries. As the first generation of the Papuan elite graduated from Dutch schools, the jobs they aspired to were held by east Indonesians. In the small urban centres of Netherlands New Guinea, educated Papuans shaped their political and cultural identities in reference to the east Indonesians. After the Pacific War, Papua's separation from the rest of the archipelago became more distinct. Under the first post-war Resident, J P K van Eechoud, boarding schools were established to train Papuans as officials, police, soldiers and teachers. Van Eechoud recruited students from throughout Papua with the explicit intention of cultivating a sense of pan-Papuan identity. The graduates of Van Eechoud's schools were prominent among the first generations of the Papuan elite. Notwithstanding the strong demands of the east Indonesian federalists, Papua was not included in the State of East Indonesia. In 1946 the Netherlands became a member of the South Pacific Commission as the administering power of West Papua. Although the administrative separation of Papua from Maluku had been achieved, it was not until mid-1949 that the Dutch cabinet decided to exclude Papua from the impending transfer of sovereignty to Indonesia. The status of West Papua was left unresolved at the crucial Round Table Conference that brought together Dutch and Indonesian negotiators. The resulting compromise enabled the transfer of sovereignty to Indonesia, but kept West Papua under Dutch control until its constitutional status could be settled through further negotiations within a year. Both the United States and Australia supported the Netherlands' resolve to exclude West Papua from the transfer of sovereignty. Negotiations at the end of 1950 as well as those of following years failed to resolve the conflict. In 1954 Indonesia took the dispute to the United Nations, where in that year, 1956 and 1957, it failed to obtain the necessary two-thirds majority in the General Assembly. The dispute over West Papua was a significant factor in the breakdown of post-colonial relations between Indonesia and the Netherlands. The motives behind the Netherlands' determination to retain control of Papua were complex and at least as much related to domestic political factors as to the maintenance of Dutch interests in Indonesia. Van Maarseveen, the Minister for Overseas Territories, expressed to parliament in 1949 the principal public rationale: 'New Guinea does not belong to Indonesia proper. New Guinea is separate from Indonesia geographically, ethnographically and also politically. New Guinea forms a completely separate territory with a separate history.' In 1952 self-determination for Papuans became an objective of Netherlands policy. However, not a great deal was done to further this objective until 1960, when under increasing international pressure the Netherlands began a program of accelerated political advancement. Over a ten-year period this was to lead to an independent West Papua. The decolonisation program involved establishing a representative council, increasing involvement of Papuans in the administration to replace Europeans and Indonesians, and establishing a Papuan volunteer corps. Like van Eechoud over a decade earlier, the political purpose was to create a sense of unity and a national ideal among the diverse peoples of the territory. Political parties, both pro-Indonesian and pro-Dutch, had been established in the late 1940s. However, political activity began to flourish among the Papuan elite with the elections for the New Guinea Council. Papuan leaders became keenly aware that the fate of their homeland was the object of an international dispute, in which they attempted to participate, but ultimately had little influence. Symbols It was in this atmosphere of rapid political change in West Papua and its enmeshment in the politics of the Cold War that Papuans first formulated their national ideals and created national symbols. On 19 October 1961 the Komite Nasional Papoea, under the leadership of members of the New Guinea Council, issued a political manifesto. It urged the government of Netherlands New Guinea to permit the Papuan flag to be flown besides the Dutch flag, the Papuan anthem to be sung with the Dutch 'Wilhelmus', and the name of the territory to be West Papua and its people Papuan. On behalf of the Papuan people, the manifesto demanded that they be given a place among the free peoples of the world, live in peace and contribute to the maintenance of world peace. On 1 December 1961, in front of the New Guinea Council, in the presence of the governor, members of the council and political party leaders, the 'Morning Star' was raised for the first time and the 'Hai Tanahku Papua' sung. This day has come to be regarded as Papuan Independence Day. Protracted negotiations under UN auspices followed, accompanied by Indonesian military infiltration and driven by an American determination to see the dispute resolved in Indonesia's favour. In August 1962, the Netherlands and Indonesia signed the New York Agreement. Control of West Papua would pass from the Netherlands to Indonesia after a period of UN administration. In the capital Hollandia (later renamed Jayapura), the New Guinea Council building became a focus for well-organised and well-supported demonstrations against the agreement. At the first such demonstration M W Kaisiepo, a leading member of the council and of the Komite Nasional Papoea, condemned the agreement: 'We were traded as goats by the Americans'. The New York Agreement's provision for an act of self-determination under UN supervision may have been a face-saving formula for the Dutch, but it was recognised as critical by Papuans. Many Papuans argued that it should be held in 1963 under the UN administration, rather than in 1969 under the Indonesians. As reflected in the resolutions of the Second Papuan Congress, the injustice, manipulation and repression that characterised Indonesian conduct of the Act of Free Choice has now become central to Papuan understandings of their history. The Papuan nationalist interpretation of the conduct of the Act of Free Choice has found support in recent archival research based on previously classified UN documents as well as on Netherlands, United States, British and Australian government sources. John Saltford argues that under the 1962 New York Agreement 'the Netherlands, Indonesia and the UN had an obligation to protect the political rights and freedoms of the Papuans, and to ensure that an act of self-determination took place, in accordance with international practice. On both these points, the three parties failed, and they did so deliberately since genuine Papuan self-determination was never seen as an option by any of them once the [New York] Agreement was signed.' Papuan resistance to Indonesian authority emerged soon after the transfer of administrative control. The Free Papua Organisation(Organisasi Papua Merdeka, OPM) was formed in 1964 and became the principal institution to wage an armed resistance against the Indonesian government. The resistance was sporadic, ad hoc and local. It never threatened Indonesian control of Papua. However, although the OPM's military capacity was limited, its representation of Papuan identity and national aspirations was of much greater importance. Richard Chauvel (richard.chauvel@vu.edu.au) teaches at Victoria University, Melbourne, Australia. He is writing a book on the West New Guinea dispute and researches contemporary Papuan politics. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

From the ashes of empire

Papua needs a clear political vision and be ready for the long haul John Rumbiak My activism goes back to 1985 when I was invited to Canada and saw how the indigenous Indians were treated. As part of the same program I also lived in a small village in Jambi, Sumatra. I noticed they were experiencing the same things as many Papuans - they were in debt to rapacious moneylenders and held to ransom by unaccountable officials. Papuans are the First Nation People. They have lived there, close to the environment, for thousands of years. They were invaded and exploited by a powerful outside force, leaving them impoverished. That is colonialism. Indonesian government policies in Papua - whether in transmigration, mining, logging, agriculture, or tourism - have just been new forms of colonialism. Jakarta sees Papua as its El Dorado, its Siberia full of resources out on the periphery, a place to make money and leave almost nothing behind. There is a mental distance too. How much do they really want to know about Papua? When Jakarta transmigrates 'expert' agriculturalists from Java to Papua it is also being racist, because Papuans already know how to use the land. Even mining is seen as a civilising work among primitive Papuans. I believe all problems can be solved through dialogue and non-violence. But Papuan faith in the Jakarta government has been shattered by the systematic oppression of a militarised developmental approach over nearly forty years of 'integration' with Indonesia. If the central government wants to be serious about dialogue it should be serious about restoring confidence, about enforcing the law. Papuans have put three very rational demands to the Jakarta government. First and foremost, they want to know about history. Was the integration (or as they say, annexation) of their territory a valid act of self-determination? Second, they want the systematic violation of their civil and socio-economic rights addressed. And third, they want to talk about their own crisis of identity as a Melanesian group within Indonesia. These issues drive the demand for independence. After lots of people were killed over a flag-raising demonstration in Biak in July 1998, community and church leaders set up a reconciliation forum, Foreri. The forum sent a hundred representatives to meet President Habibie. The idea was to become a partner to government and run followup workshops on development problems. But when these long-oppressed people mentioned the word independence to Habibie, all dialogue stopped right there. I try to be optimistic about Indonesian democracy, but from the Papuan perspective I feel the transition to democracy after 32 years of Suharto's authoritarianism will be very difficult. Indonesians who want change - students, non-government organisations - have no access to power. In the meantime, justice remains blocked. Gus Dur is a moderate religious leader who became president. He has the ability to understand social problems, but he is unable to confront a mentality of over three decades. He has problems with his administration - including parliament and his own cabinet - who want no change at all. He also makes decisions without consulting. For example he responded to Papuan aspirations by changing the name Irian Jaya to Papua. But he did it without talking to parliament, with the result that some within the government now accuse him of supporting separatism. Once Gus Dur goes, I am concerned about the future of Indonesia. As in Russia, the status quo groups still dominate so strongly. They talk this 'disintegration' language, all in the name of national unity, and this hinders democracy. I fear Megawati will also be unable to handle the explosive situations from Aceh to Papua, and after that the military will try to pull the whole country together. This will kill democracy. If Indonesia wants to remain a united state, its leaders must understand that unrest in the regions indicates a real psychological need to say 'I am Acehnese', or 'I am Dayak, or Papuan, and I want to be acknowledged as I am before I will be an Indonesian'. Thus far, the system has no room for such an acknowledgement. The colonial system is too strong. I do not see Jakarta changing its view. Papuan identity However, even within Papua we are only building a foundation. This is a long project. Dialogue also involves building cross-cultural understanding among the 250 tribal groups in Papua. It is a process of healing the psychological scars of oppression. Papuans are frustrated, their soul has been broken. The struggle tends to lack a clear political vision, and that is dangerous. First, we must address the issue of Papuan identity. Cross-cultural dialogue also involves non-Papuans settlers, who have a right to live in Papua too. Like it or not, they have intermarried with Papuans the last three decades. We need to say that, yes, Papua belongs to those 250 tribes, but I don't want it to be dominated by certain ethnic groups, as in Fiji. The future of Papua cannot be built on an exclusive basis, no matter how much Papuans have suffered. Superiority is dangerous and produces conflict. The rights of settlers must be guaranteed. The OPM fighter Mathias Wenda is a Dani hero, whereas Kelly Kwalik is an Amungme hero. This is not a strong basis. We need to discover a First Nation People ideology for Papua that allows a Dani to say to me: 'Hey, you're no different to me!' Second, we need to ask what we mean when we speak about independence. The struggle is not just about replacing Indonesians with Papuans. Independence will not automatically make everything easy. It is about changing a system. The substance of independence is welfare and equal rights for all. That means good human resources, equal distribution of wealth, law enforcement. The environment must not be destroyed. Papua is so rich it is scary. Development must be culturally sound, ecologically sound, and based on human rights. The political vision must be clear. If you hope for Papua to become free simply by Indonesia breaking up you're going to be in big trouble. Because Papua itself is politically fragmented. It will be like Africa - which ethnic group will dominate? Lots of blood will flow. At the moment, coastal Papuans have more education and they would take over. But that would make highland Papuans unhappy, leading to war. For 32 years we have experienced divide-and-rule among these 250 tribes. I can sense those feelings among Papuan independence activists. These are dangerous signals. We must be like Arnold Ap and Tuarek Narkime, an Amungme chief tribe who introduced peace amongst the tribes in the highlands of West Papua, and liberate ourselves from such feelings, move beyond our own ethnic group. Internationally too, it is a long-term struggle - fifteen, twenty, twenty-five years. Activists have to understand the way the global mechanism works. No nation anywhere, including the US, wants to talk about Papuan independence. Unlike East Timor, Papua is seen as an internal Indonesian affair. But nations will talk about self-determination, which is different in principle and could mean autonomy, independence, or lots of other things. It will be very difficult to put Papuan integration with Indonesia back on the agenda, but it can be done. Papuan activists need to build networks around the world - just working with Nauru or Vanuatu is not enough. This article was composed from an interview conducted with John Rumbiak by Gerry van Klinken on 11 May 2001. Inside Indonesia 67: Jul - Sep 2001

Reviews

Review: Robert Cribb's Historical Atlas is breathtaking in its scope and presentation Ron Witton I have long found Robert Cribb's Historical dictionary of Indonesia (Scarecrow Press, 1992) a wonderful mine of information. Now he has produced a companion volume that is breathtaking in its scope and presentation. For those of us used to thinking of maps only as a source of geographical information, this volume begins to expand our cartographic universe. Maps cover the Landscape and the Environment, the Peoples of Indonesia, States and Polities until 1800, the Netherlands Indies 1800-1942, and finally, War, Revolution and Political Transformation, 1942 to the present. Whether one wants to see the distribution of Krakatau noise and tsunamis in the Indian Ocean in August 1883 (Map 1.16), the languages of Borneo (2.4), population density in 1990 (2.74), Airlangga's kingdom in the eleventh century (3.14), how Golkar fared in the 1971 elections (5.38), regional unrest in Indonesia in 2000 (5.68), or the distribution of Muslims in Indonesia as shown by the 1980 census (2.27), this beautiful volume has it all. Of particular fascination are such maps as Regional rebellions and provincial boundaries, 1950-1954 (5.20), Jakarta on the night of the coup, 1 October 1965 (5.32), or the horror of the New Order's Gulag system as shown by Detention camps for political prisoners ca 1975, as reported by Amnesty International (5.35). If for example, you were interested in transmigration, you could begin with Slaving in the Indonesian archipelago, 16th-18th centuries (2.39), then examine maps illustrating colonial population movements, and finally move to the detailed maps on modern Indonesia's transmigration program. To check the international dimension you could then turn to Major migration by Indonesians beyond the archipelago, 17th to 20th centuries (2.49). Here you would learn that many Javanese worked in plantations and mines in the British colony of Queensland. Other migrations include those from China into Indonesia (2.51, 2.53 and 2.57). Teachers will use these maps to make the region come alive and to explore a comparative regional focus. An informative narrative links the maps and draws out salient points. It may be too expensive for some individuals, but there is no excuse for institutional libraries not to obtain a copy. This is truly creative scholarship at its best. Robert Cribb, Historical Atlas of Indonesia, Surrey, UK: Curzon, 2000/ Singapore: New Asian Library, 256pp, ISBN 0700709851/ 9810427719, Rrp US $100 (Dr) Ron Witton (rwitton@uow.edu.au) first visited Indonesia in 1962. Inside Indonesia 68: Oct - Dec 2001

Mama Yosefa wins a Goldman

Bravo the cat

Action in Europe

Freeport's troubled future

The backlash

Self-determination or territorial integrity?

Towards a New Papua

Where nationalisms collide

From the ashes of empire

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