Tempo Magazine April 2 - 8, 2002 

Column: Between Jakarta and Papua 

Muridan S. Widjojo [The author is a researcher at the Indonesian Institute of Sciences, and iscurrently studying at the University of Leiden, the Netherlands] The kidnapping and murder of Papuan leader Theys Eluay last November is the 
latest in what has become a tradition in the relationship between Jakarta and Papua. The authors of this policy of murder believe that it will kill off Papuan aspirations for independence. Previously, in 1984, the best-known Papuan anthropologist, Arnold Ap, was murdered. Then in 1996, Thomas Wanggai died in prison. It was not long after that political violence erupted in Timika, Tembagapura, Bella, Wasior, Abepura, and Biak. 

The establishment of national commissions of inquiry (KPNs) in the wake of such incidents have also become a political tradition in Jakarta. Each such commission is set up independently with its own terms of reference without any consideration for legitimacy, impartiality, independence or justice. The signs that these commissions were neutered both politically and legally have become increasingly clear. The latest team, and hopefully I'm wrong, is likely to uncover indications of involvement by rogue elements in the Indonesian Military (TNI), but at the same time will bury this issue on the grounds of insufficient evidence. Thus, the Theys case will become even more opaque and we will be preoccupied with yet another incident of political violence. 

What is certain, the situation in Papua following Theys' murder has become more worrisome. Human rights activists, who have dared to oppose the terror and violence directed by the state against its own people, have been forced to flee abroad. Church groups, particularly in Fakfak and in Sorong, feel threatened by the increasing activity of Muslim and nationalist militias. Pamphlets and VCDs on the holy war in Maluku are being circulated, and calls to oppose "Christian separatism" are often heard. The seeds of conflict between Muslims and Christians have grown significantly. The people of Papua are worried that all this is being orchestrated by Jakarta. 

In essence, nothing has really changed in Papua since the fall of the New Order, and relations between Jakarta and Papua have worsened. Those demanding social, legal and economic justice are stigmatized as separatists. Calls for independence are met with human rights violations. Demands by Papuans and non-governmental organizations that human rights are to be upheld are responded to by mobilizing migrant settlers under the excuse of nationalism and religion. We are truly walking into a trap of our own making. Every problem that emerges is solved only through the creation of a new problem. 

If we look at the history of Papua's integration into the Republic of Indonesia, let us say from 1963 until now, we will be forced to face up to the implications of a Jakarta policy that has been dominated by military factions and a militaristic perspective. Most of the problems that have emerged are caused more by military excesses than by social dynamics on the ground. The attempts of the Papuans through the Free Papua Organization, NGOs, the churches and the Papuan Presidium has, for the most part, been a reaction against military activities, whether overt or covert. The more paralyzed civil political institutions become, the greater the justification for military intervention and participation. 

The tension between Jakarta and Papua also reflects systematic efforts to block reform and the transition to democracy. We find ourselves unable to get the better of the old, dominant political forces, particularly factions within the military, and their civilian fellow-travelers whether at the center or in the regions. They are armed, they control militias, and they have great economic resources. Their tentacles stretch into the political parties, the bureaucracy, the legislature and the Cabinet. In the regions, they are involved in popular organizations, the security business, forest management, and simultaneously constitute the authority that justifies their own operations. The sole right to interpret the definitions of 
"stability" and "security threat" is vested in them. 

Thus, the root cause of the problem is a struggle for power at the national level. We have a situation, therefore, where on the one hand the military factions and their civilian allies are still omnipresent at various levels of the decision-making process, and on the other hand civilian, pro-democracy forces at the national level find themselves unable to develop sufficiently to overcome the dominance of the military, and militarism. Thus, violence, whether symbolic or physical, continues to be Jakarta's dominant strategy in managing the Papua problem. 

In Papua itself, the NGOs and the Papuan Presidium, acting with the moral support of the Papua people, seem unable to persuade Jakarta to arrive at a political, non-violent, solution. In fact, they are likely to be the next targets of the political violence. On the other hand, they have increasingly strong grounds to seek assistance from the international powers. The campaign, and evidence damning the Republic, are being spread further and further afield. Photographs of despicable deeds are digitally disseminated almost instantaneously into the rooms of decision-makers at the international level. 

The picture of Papua abroad is far worse than the actual situation on the ground. The deaths of a few people in Biak are blown up to become hundreds. As a result, Indonesia's image as a failed state and a nest of cruelty and tyranny becomes even stronger. The Australians, some US congressmen, international human rights groups and a number of Pacific states have become increasingly open in voicing support for an independent Papua. Given the current political impasse, we are unwittingly opening the door to international intervention and an even greater national tragedy.