Inside Indonesia: Special edition on West Papua - Towards a New Papua 
July - September 2001 

In this issue 

Papua is not the Stone Age 

Both Australia and Indonesia are probably about to get new leaders. We hope all the candidates for the top jobs - Megawati, John Howard and Kim Beazley - will read this edition of Inside Indonesia. So for that matter should George W Bush (who said we don't aim high?!). Papua has for too long been a remote, 'primitive' place whose fate is arranged in Jakarta, Canberra, New York and Washington. Today it is far less remote. Papua is all over the worldwide web, as Mike Cookson shows us here. Now is the time to start listening to Papuans themselves. That is the real meaning of self-determination, still one of the key beliefs underpinning the United Nations. 

This edition does not take a view on Papuan independence as such. It wants to be a forum for ideas. What it does take a view on is the importance of people. No abstract idea of national sovereignty, or of a gross domestic product, can be more important than the right of ordinary children, women and men to live in peace and dignity. 

I think this edition brings those Papuan people into closeup. Not surprisingly, we discover they are human beings who dream of a better future, not unlike humans elsewhere. Once we have 'met' people like John Rumbiak, Tom Beanal or Beatrix Koibur we can no longer talk about 'Stone Age rebels', as so many newspapers still do. We will also find it much less easy to say patronising things about what is advisable, permissible or possible for Papua. 

This is about as packed an edition of our little magazine as we have ever managed! So many people contributed so gladly it has been an amazing one to edit. There is a growing Papuan solidarity movement out there, that's for sure. Of course, it would take a book to cover everything. Maybe this one can be a first guide to action. 

Gerry van Klinken 

Editor
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Inside Indonesia, No. 67 July - Sept 2001 

CONTENTS: special edition on West Papua - Towards a New Papua

From the ashes of empire 

Papua needs a clear political vision and be ready for the long haul - John Rumbiak 

Where nationalisms collide 
History is central to the politics of West Papua - Richard Chauvel

Towards a New Papua 
When they hear the sacred texts of the church, Papuans see a better 
future - Benny Giay

Self-determination or territorial integrity? 
There is growing international concern over West Papua - Nic Maclellan

The backlash
Jakarta's secret strategy to deal with Papuan nationalism - Richard Chauvel

Freeport's troubled future 
Without Suharto, who will protect Freeport from itself? - Denise Leith

Action in Europe 
What are Europeans doing about Papua? - Siegfried Zöllner and Feije Duim

Bravo the cat 
Life among Papuan and Timorese political prisoners in Jakarta - Jacob Rumbiak, with Louise Byrne 

Box - Mama Yosefa wins a Goldman 

Papua - The Indonesian debate 
What does the public in Jakarta think? - Peter King

Box - Special Autonomy 
To end impunity 
How Indonesia responds to human rights abuse in Papua is the measure 
of reform elsewhere - Lucia Withers

The bronze Asmat warrior 
Contemporary art in Papua is about new and contested identities - Robyn Roper

Remembering Sam Kapissa 
He was a wood carver, musician, and mover and shaker for the arts on Biak - Danilyn Rutherford

Inside the Special Autonomy Bill 
Chronology of a remarkable process - Agus Sumule

But is it democratic? 
Indonesian democrats have mixed feelings about Papua's independence drive - Stanley

Mama Papua 
Beatrix Koibur explains why Christianity is important to Papuan women - Annie Feith

The ethnic factor 
Christianity, curly hair, and human dignity - Nico Schulte Nordholt

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From the ashes of empire 

Papua needs a clear political vision and be ready for the long haul 

by 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. 

John Rumbiak 

John Rumbiak is Papua's best-known human rights advocate. He was born in Biak in 1962. He studied linguistics at Cenderawasih University in Jayapura in the 1980s, and since then has worked in several non-government organisations concerned with human rights. John is currently Supervisor of ELS-HAM, the West Papuan Institute for Human Rights Study and Advocacy, in Jayapura (email: elsham_irja@jayapura.wasantara.net.id).  In 1999 he studied human rights advocacy at Columbia University, New York, USA. Early in 2001 he spoke about human rights and democracy in West Papua on an extensive tour of Europe (including the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva) and the US.


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But is it democratic? 

Indonesian democrats have mixed feelings about Papua's independence 
drive 

by Stanley 

To what extent has democratisation at the centre benefited Papua? When Habibie took over from Suharto, Papuans demanded that he give them what he gave East Timor, a choice for autonomy or independence. The new government under president Gus Dur tried to be more accommodating, for example by changing the name from Irian Jaya to Papua and sending home a lot of troops. He even gave a billion rupiah to Theys H Eluay to hold the Papuan People's Congress at the end of May 2000. 

But if Gus Dur hoped this would dampen separatist demands he was wrong. The umbrella Papua Presidium Council (PDP) set up a militant Papuan Task Force (Satuan Tugas Papua) in many places. Its original purpose of preventing violence was soon buried under its own brutality towards non-Papuan settlers. These transmigrants are impoverished peasants from Java and Sulawesi and themselves victims of the New Order. Task Force members also demand money from business people and generally act thuggish. PDP leaders, meanwhile, take 
advantage of Papuan anti-Indonesian emotions in order to get themselves more gifts from the centre, for their personal use. 

Unfortunately Papuans who interpreted Gus Dur's sympathy as a readiness to give them an independence option were also wrong. Papua was for Gus Dur just part of the political bargaining to retain power. Under pressure from parliament over alleged corruption, he said that if he was forced to resign, five Indonesian regions would secede - among them Papua. 

The separatist issue, in other words, is a game for elites in Papua and in Jakarta. It has no significance for the great mass of Papuans. 

As 'ethno-nationalism' grew and the PDP promised independence, economic envy led to clashes between indigenous Papuans and non-Papuan settlers, for example in Wamena in late 2000. Tensions also arose between highland and coastal people, with highlanders accusing coastals of dominating the PDP. Where nationalism should have been a force for democracy, PDP leaders turned it into an anti-democratic one with overtones of racial hatred, also among Papuans themselves. 

The PDP leadership tried to accommodate popular feeling by forming the Penis Gourd Brigade (Pasukan Koteka) from Wamena to represent highlanders. Many of them flooded into Jayapura just before 1 December 2000, creating fresh tensions there. Non-Papuan settlers began to arm themselves - encouraged by the police chief. Hoping to prevent more trouble, the security forces took repressive action by arresting some PDP leaders on treason charges and bringing in more troops - a total of 12,000 of them. All this demonstrates a failure of democracy in Papua. Not to mention the many roadblocks and attacks on strategic economic assets. 

Amidst this confusion, the media have thrown up many 'instant' leaders who might best be called democracy consumers, while the important figures of a real democracy movement in Papua are overlooked because they refuse to use primordial sentiments. Examples of such genuine democrats are Bishop Herman Munninghoff who fights military human rights abuse in the interior, Rev Herman Saud who campaigns against violence and discrimination, Agustinus Rumansara who works to strengthen civil society, Tom Beanal who pursues human rights violators and supports indigenous empowerment, and John Gluba Gebze who works to create clean government. 

Nor do many Papuans get to hear much about important human rights institutions like the Jayapura Legal Aid Institute (LBH), the Papuan NGO Cooperative Forum (Foker LSM Papua) or Elsham Papua. People are as if transfixed by the PDP's promise of independence, even in the absence of a clear agenda to get there. 

Suharto 

The democratisers are overshadowed by the likes of Theys Eluay, Thaha Al Hamid, Don Flassy and Herman Awom, who in reality merely manipulate group sentiment for their personal ends. Their backgrounds make interesting reading. Theys Eluay was part of the Pepera council in 1969 that voted unanimously in favour of joining Indonesia. He was a provincial parliamentarian for several terms under Suharto. Thaha Al Hamid is a failed student and a failed administrator in a range of 
non-government organisations (NGOs). For the 1999 elections he campaigned with Adi Sasono on behalf of the Partai Daulat Rakyat, a party seriously stained by corruption allegations. Don Flassy, meanwhile, is the secretary of the provincial planning agency (Bappeda Irian Jaya) who failed to win the governorship. 

Papuan nationalism has also turned several OPM guerrillas into popular heroes. What most people don't know is that they have now joined the National Liberation Army (Tentara Pembebasan Nasional, TPN), which has a dubious relationship with the Indonesian army. 

So what do Indonesian democracy activists think about Papua? Most are quite ignorant, but some Jakarta NGOs like Elsam and Isai work with local NGOs to strengthen Papuan civil society. There are differences among these Indonesian activists. Older ones want Papuans to join them in a common struggle against injustice everywhere. Younger ones are more open and ready to support anything they feel is good for the Papuan people themselves, including a desire for independence. 

Stanley is a journalist and a manager at Isai, the Institute for the 
Free Flow of Information (isai@isai.or.id). 
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To end impunity 

How Indonesia responds to human rights abuse in Papua is the measure of reform elsewhere 

by Lucia Withers 

Impunity - literally exemption from punishment - is the status quo in Indonesia. One of the strongest legacies of the New Order era is that members of the security forces feel they can and do operate above the law. Since the fall of former President Suharto in May 1998 some tentative moves have been made to change this status quo but with little effect to date. This article examines the prospects for bringing an end to impunity, focussing on a recent case in Papua to illustrate the enormity of the task. 

In February 2001, the Indonesian National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) announced it would establish two Commissions of Inquiry into Human Rights Violations, known by the acronym KPP HAM, one on Papua and the other on Aceh. The team on Papua was swiftly formed. Within weeks it was on the ground investigating the events of 7 December 2000, in which members of the police and the Police Mobile Brigade (Brimob) had detained over 100 people during raids on student hostels and other locations in Abepura, near the provincial capital. The police operation had been launched to find those responsible for an attack on a police station earlier in the day in which two 
police officers and one other person had been killed. 

In its preliminary findings published on 10 April 2001, the inquiry team confirmed earlier reports from Papua-based human rights monitors that the victims of the police operation had no connection with the raid on the police station. Instead they appear to have been the innocent victims of police revenge. One person was shot dead during the raids. Another two people died in custody from torture and others suffered injuries from being severely beaten and kicked. 

If, as the KPP HAM report seems to confirm, Indonesian police officers were responsible for extrajudicial killings, torture and arbitrary detention in Papua the previous December, what prospect is there that they will be brought to justice, and what significance could successful prosecutions in a single case in Papua have for human rights in Indonesia generally? 

Human Rights Courts 

The answer to the first question currently lies more in politics than with the law. Over the past year the Indonesian government has put in place a legal framework intended to facilitate the investigation and trial of gross violations of human rights - namely genocide and crimes against humanity. Act 26/ 2000, adopted by the Indonesian parliament in November 2000, provides for the establishment of four permanent Human Rights Courts, in Jakarta, Medan, Surabaya and Makassar. Significantly, the Act also allows for the establishment by presidential decree (on the recommendation of parliament) of ad hoc, or temporary, human rights courts, to try cases of gross human rights violations committed before the legislation was adopted. This provision potentially paves the way to investigate and bring to justice perpetrators of the massive violations which have taken place in Indonesia over the past three decades. 

Should Komnas HAM, acting under this legislation, find evidence that a gross violation of human rights has taken place, the Attorney General takes over the case and initiates criminal investigations with a view to bringing suspects to trial in a Human Rights Court. 

The principle sounds good. However, in the current political climate sizeable obstacles block the way to justice. The December 2000 torture and killings in Papua is the third incident to have been the subject of inquiry by Komnas HAM under the new legislation. Investigations of the other two cases are said to be complete, but trials have yet to take place. There are mounting concerns that the cases may never come to court, or that if they do the process will be compromised. 

A brief look at the chequered progress of the first case to have been investigated - that of crimes committed in East Timor during 1999 - gives a clue as to what can be expected in Papua and why. It was the international response to the shocking events of 1999 in East Timor which prompted former President Habibie to legislate for the establishment of human rights courts and commence an investigation. The KPP HAM into East Timor was formed under Komnas HAM's direction. In a hard-hitting report delivered to the Attorney General in January 2000, it declared that gross human rights violations had been committed. Possible suspects were named, including senior military and government officials. 

After a two-month delay the Attorney General formed an investigation team which began work in April 2000. Consisting of officials from the Attorney-General's office, the military police, national police and the home affairs ministry, the team's composition led to doubts about its impartiality and indeed its competence to investigate highly complex cases of crimes against humanity. Its legal status was also open to question, because the legislation under which the investigations had been initiated had been thrown out of parliament in March 2000 to make way for a new and more comprehensive law. 

The new legislation was slow in materialising. It was only on 6 November 2000, just eight days in advance of a visit to Indonesia by a delegation from the United Nations Security Council to check up on the progress of the investigations into East Timor, that the legislation was adopted by parliament. 

Although a great improvement on earlier drafts, it is far from perfect and must be amended if the new human rights courts are to deliver justice to victims while at the same time protecting the rights of suspects. Among the outstanding problems are the method of appointing prosecutors and judges and the lack of security of tenure for judges. Both of these expose the judiciary to political influence. Similarly, vesting parliament and ultimately the president with the authority to decide whether or not to form an ad hoc court for a specific past case brings the risk that political considerations could influence this decision. This was graphically illustrated on 23 April 2001, when a presidential decree approved the establishment of an ad hoc court on East Timor but only for cases that took place after the 30 August 1999 ballot. In one move, justice has been denied to the hundreds of victims of militia and security force violence in the months leading up to the vote. 

Among the other concerns is the inclusion of the death penalty, which flies in the face of international human rights standards encouraging its abolition and gives rise to fears of 'scapegoat' executions. 

Protection of witnesses and victims is also not yet guaranteed. Act 26/ 2000 does include a provision for this, but a program has yet to be established. Without it the trials cannot safely proceed. The real risk of intimidation can be seen in Papua, where police have summoned witnesses and victims who spoke to the KPP HAM members. 

There has also been fierce debate as to whether the legislation could be applied to cases which occurred before the legislation was adopted in November 2000. An amendment to the Indonesian constitution in August 2000 forbade the retroactive application of law. This was widely interpreted as a political move intended to block prosecution of past cases and thereby protect senior military and political elites still retaining influence. However, the crimes which come under the jurisdiction of the human rights courts are also crimes under international law. Regardless of whether or not they were codified in national law at the time that the crimes were committed, the state has an international responsibility to pursue judicial 
investigations. 

Given all the foot dragging on East Timor, it was something of a surprise when on 21 March 2001 Indonesia's parliamentarians agreed to recommend to the president that two ad hoc human rights courts be established - one on East Timor and one on killings and disappearances which took place in the Tanjung Priok harbour area of Jakarta in 1984. The deputy speaker of parliament publicly admitted that they had taken this step to counter international attention and avoid international intervention in the East Timor case. 

However, the president's decision to limit the jurisdiction of the East Timor court to the post-ballot period quickly dampened renewed optimism. It is still an open question whether the political will exists in Indonesia to see this process through. 

Papua 

The decision to proceed with the Abepura case may owe something to a high level of international attention. The events had been widely publicised by Papua-based NGOs and by the Swiss journalist, Oswald Iten, who witnessed police beating detainees while in police custody in Jayapura for an alleged visa offence. Komnas HAM's secretary general, Asmara Nababan, has also explained that this case was prioritised because it occurred after the legislation on human rights courts was adopted and therefore cannot fall victim to the argument on retroactivity. 

This may be a smart move since, should there be sufficient evidence, the case should automatically be heard in one of the permanent human rights courts. As a test case, it could open the way to prosecutions of other cases of gross human rights violations which have taken place since November 2000, thus at least establishing a precedent of accountability for current cases. Moreover, the report of the inquiry team recognises that the Abepura case was not a one-off but part of a more general policy of repression in Papua both current and past. It thus looks beyond those responsible for committing the violations to those in positions of authority who ordered or tolerated them. 

However, the Papua inquiry team is operating in an unreformed system. Witnesses have been intimidated and the police have proved uncooperative. Establishing mechanisms of accountability including a robust, independent judiciary is a long-term project which will require pressure and support - also from the international community - in equal measures. Each step will have to be fought for. Standards of justice cannot be lowered to accommodate judicial weaknesses - this would serve neither the needs of victims nor the wider aim of ending impunity in Indonesia. 

Lucia Withers (lwithers@amnesty.org) is a researcher on Indonesia for Amnesty International. This article reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the position of Amnesty International.
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Towards a New Papua 

When they hear the sacred texts of the church, Papuans see a better future 

by 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.' [IAWP comment: now is a good time for West Papuans to banish alcohol, at least until independence!!]

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). 

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Memoria passionis 

The hidden history of the Papuan people 

If we travel without prejudice to the remote places of Papua - Wamena, Paniai, the Jayawijaya Highlands, the Star Mountains, Mindiptana, Timika, Arso, Mamberamo - we will undoubtedly hear stories of suffering from the mouths of ordinary people. Their memories are clear and sharp, they have taken note of these things: 'In this river our father was murdered; on that mountain slope there used to be some villages but the Indonesian army (Abri) destroyed them; on that field our elders were forced to burn their supposedly primitive penis gourds (koteka); we used to own that mountain, she was our mother, but now people have destroyed it; we always found plenty of animals to hunt in the forest, but now we are forbidden to go there because they say it belongs to a company and is protected by law; our children make no progress because there are almost no teachers; medicines are expensive.' And on and on. 

These stories have never been written down. But they are passed down from generation to generation. They all say one thing: 'They don't think we are human'. We are treated not like humans but like objects: objects of policy, objects of a military operation, objects of economic development, tourist objects. 

These things have been happening for decades. This is the real history of the Papuan people. But they are never taught in the official history lessons at school. They simply become part of the collective memory of the Papuan nation. The memories are passed down as a legacy, a legacy of trauma. A theologian named Johan Baptist Metz once called this kind of history the 'memoria passionis', the memory of suffering. The memoria passionis is like magma. Hidden from view, it contains an enormous latent energy capable of overturning existing realities. 

From Theo P A van den Broek ofm and J Budi Hernawan ofm, 'Memoria Passionis di Papua' (Jakarta: LSPP, 2001), with permission. 
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