60 Years of Papuan Consciousness

ON THE FIRST DAY of December each year, people across the Indonesian-ruled territory of Papua (also known as West Papua or Irian Jaya) raise their flag: a white star on a red background, flanked by a field of blue and white stripes.

Each year, some of these people are arrested for displaying the Morning Star banner, banned by the Indonesian government since the 1960s. Last year, several hundred Papuans gathered to watch one flagraising in the town of Abepura, part of a peaceful open-air prayer meeting. As the flag was raised, Indonesian police fired rubber bullets, then waded into the crowd, beating people with batons.

One flag-raiser, 45-year old Filep Karma, was arrested on the spot. Another man, Yusak Pakage, 26, was arrested for protesting outside the police station against Karma’s arrest. Karma was sentenced to fifteen years in jail for “rebellion” and expressing hostility towards the State. Pakage received a ten-year sentence for his role in the peaceful flag-raising.

“Indonesia is a democracy,” Pakage wrote in a September statement. “We raised the Bintang Kejora [Morning Star] flag with the aim of encouraging dialogue between the people of West Papua and the government of Indonesia…. We should sit together and have a democratic dialogue to find a solution to end the killings, the oppression and the injustices which have occurred systematically on West Papuan land.”

Indonesia held democratic elections in 2004, its second since the fall of President Suharto’s regime in 1998. It has made enormous strides towards democratization. In peripheral areas such as Papua, however, real power still lies with the Indonesian army which held power under Suharto. “Democracy in Indonesia is in danger,” Pakage wrote, because it does not permit peaceful protest in places like Papua. Amnesty International reports that at least 72 people have been put on trial since 1998 for advocating an independent Papua. The jailings of Yusak Pakage and Filep Karma are just an example of many such cases over four decades of Indonesian rule. Many Papuans feel they were robbed of their independence. When they express this view, they are seen in Indonesia as challenging the unity of the State.

THE BEGINNINGS OF PAPUAN CONSCIOUSNESS

2005 was a year of anniversaries around the world: 60 years since the end of the Second World War and the formation of the United Nations. It was also 60 years since the beginnings of a Papuan consciousness. In 1945, American troops swept across Papua’s coast, pushing back the Japanese. Many of them were African Americans, who looked like cousins to the Melanesian people of Papua. The largest American military base quickly became the Papuan community of Kampong Harapan, the city of hope (it is now Jayapura, the provincial capital). The Japanese had been driven out; Indonesian nationalists had declared an independent Republic in Jakarta; the world was being made anew. Some Papuan leaders threw in their lot with the Indonesians seeking independence for the Dutch East Indies; others agreed to work with the Dutch towards a separate and more gradual independence for Papua. It took until 1949 for the Netherlands to recognize the independence of Indonesia; when they did, they insisted on keeping Papua as a last bit of their Pacific colonial empire.Throughout the 1950s, the Indonesian government demanded control of Papua. In 1960, the Netherlands announced a ten-year plan for Papuan self-government. A semi-elected Papuan council became, in effect, an embryonic parliament for a new nation-state. On 1 December 1961, the new Papuan-designed flag was raised for the first time over the council building. To many Papuans, this marked their independence day.

Indonesian President Sukarno saw things very differently, ordering the mobilization of his country for war, using arms supplied by the Soviet Union. Alarmed that this might lead Indonesia into the communist camp, the United States under President John F. Kennedy intervened to force the Netherlands to the bargaining table. With no Papuans present, the Dutch agreed to hand Papua over to an interim UN administration, which would in turn transfer control to Indonesia in 1963. “Forced participation in Indonesian rule would be equivalent to a slave trade carried on by members of the United Nations,” a group of Papuan councillors wrote angrily, but to no avail.

Under the terms of the transfer, there was supposed to be an “act of free choice” letting Papuans opt for Indonesian rule or independence. The act was held in 1969, but instead of a referendum, military authorities hand-picked 1,026 electors. Their vote was unanimous for Indonesia; it has since been described by the responsible UN Under-Secretary as a “whitewash.” Arguing that self-determination had already taken place in 1945 with the Indonesian declaration of independence, Indonesian leaders never accepted that there was any Papuan right to separate.

The clashing beliefs over self-determination lie at the root of the human rights violations during 42 years of Indonesian control. Human rights groups have estimated Papuan deaths under Indonesian rule may be as high as 100,000. There have been extensive reports of arbitrary arrests and extra-judicial executions, coupled with what Amnesty International calls a “culture of impunity” in which army officers are rarely held accountable for their actions. A 2004 report from the Lowenstein human rights clinic at Yale Law School found “a strong indication that the Indonesian government has committed genocide” in Papua.

Papuans complain bitterly over transmigration from the heavily-populated Indonesian islands. For decades, the Indonesian government set ambitious targets for migration to Papua, designed to relieve population pressures in densely-populated Java while opening up the Papuan rain forest for economic development projects. The number of transmigrants never met the targets, but large numbers of “spontaneous migrants” have flooded into Papua. Major cities often have an Indonesian majority dominating the best jobs; some Papuans fear they are on the verge of being reduced to a minority in their own homeland.

Papua is also a resource conflict. It is one of three provinces providing the bulk of Indonesia’s export earnings. Its extensive rain forests are divided up among logging companies, raising the spectre of large-scale deforestation and threats to the cultural survival of indigenous peoples. The US-based multinational, Freeport, maintains one of the world’s largest mines in the Papuan interior, where it has excavated entire mountains in search of copper and gold. Canadian mining companies are prominent among those searching for more mineral deposits. BP (formerly British Petroleum) hopes to build a vast natural gas project in Bintuni Bay. Papua is treated as a treasure house for natural resources, but few benefits can be seen flowing to local people, who remain poor by Indonesian standards, with high infant mortality rates and a vast AIDS crisis.

Hopes were high that the human rights situation would improve after the fall of Suharto. A team of 100 Papuan leaders met with Suharto’s successor, asking for a dialogue on the history of Papua’s integration into Indonesia and voicing the widespread aspiration for independence. Abdurrahman Wahid, Indonesia’s first democratically-elected president, agreed to permit a Papuan National Congress in 2000. But military authorities cracked down after that Congress declared Papuans were “already sovereign as a nation and a people.” In 2002, Indonesian soldiers murdered Theys Eluay, elected leader of the Papuan Presidium at the 2000 congresses, driving the peaceful independence movement underground. Offers of “special autonomy” have yet to be implemented, increasing Papuan distrust of Indonesian promises.

YAN CHRISTIAN WARINUSSY AND THE ROAD TO PEACE

Human rights defenders like this year’s John Humphrey Freedom Award winner have also come under attack. Yan Christian Warinussy was defending six residents of his community jailed for a flag-raising in 2001 when he wrote to protest that they had been beaten in police custody, he was summoned by the police. They lined up the flagraisers and threatened to “shoot you and your lawyer.” In Papua today, human rights defenders on the front lines are often targeted for their activities.

Without brave individuals monitoring and advocating for human rights, countries moving towards democracy are unlikely to get there. Rights activists “are a part of democratization,” according to Hina Jilani, the UN Special Representative on Human Rights Defenders. “Their presence and activity in a state are both an indicator of democratization and a motor for its further development.” The Indonesian government has not permitted Jilani to investigate Papua. Despite the UN Declaration on Human Rights Defenders, backed by Canada among other countries, campaigning for rights remains a hazardous career choice for Papuans. At the root of the rights problem, human rights defenders argue, is the perception that self-determination was stolen from Papuans. Papuans continue to protest; Indonesian government refuses to admit any validity to “separatism,” which leads to repressive actions. Many Papuan organizations are trying to break the cycle with a call for dialogue and transforming Papua into a “land of peace.” This road offers the best hope for conflict resolution.