Wed, 14 Feb 2001

E. Timor's difficult questions of reconciliation

The following two articles by The Jakarta Post journalist Ati Nurbaiti deal with reconciliation in East Timor, written after an invitation to Dili to attend the first congress of the Association of Journalists of Timor Lorosae in January.

JAKARTA (JP): In the face of accumulated, unsettled crimes, a commission of truth and reconciliation has been set up in East Timor. Related questions are similar to that regarding Indonesia's similar commission: How is reconciliation to be achieved without accountability on the part of those guilty?

Those who issued orders to kill in Liquica in 1999 reportedly promised a sum of Rp 75,000 "per head". Reconciliation in East Timor is not simply closing the divide of "us" versus "them". One Liquica man is still distraught after killing his own wife, an activist helping victims said.

Cases under investigation and those to be tried are limited to those occurring since 1999. Meanwhile, pro-Indonesian Timorese have said that the victims on their side, reaching tens of thousands in the 1970s, have never been mentioned given "the bias of the West" toward the independence movement.

Aitarak militia leader Eurico Guterres, on trial for illegal possession of weapons in Jakarta, has said that reconciliation in East Timor would only mean pro-Indonesian Timorese "bowing down to (East Timorese leader) Xanana".

Picking priorities would mean glossing over accounts of many past massacres, tortures and rapes reported from various regions, the mysterious deaths of babies at the Dili hospital -- suspected to be related to their parents' association to the independence movement -- and many other unresolved atrocities.

Horror stories compiled by writers and researchers match accounts of genocide from Cambodia, regarding systematic, methodical "warfare".

The killing of babies, pregnant women and their fetus in attacks on villagers is referred to by an Indonesian officer, as quoted by sociologist George J. Aditjondro from an Indonesian magazine, as the killing of "little and big snakes", seemingly to avoid a potential new generation of revengeful enemies.

Defining reconciliation will take some time as indicated by differences among Timor figures, notably among leader Jose Alexandre "Xanana" Gusmao and Dili Bishop Carlos Felipe Ximenes Belo.

While Belo advocates that justice be done, Xanana has said legal proceedings against suspected criminals could deter thousands of Timorese on the border from returning home.

Xanana has said that customary ways of "reconciliation" are preferred -- meaning encouraging militiamen to speak of their wrongdoings before the bereaved; then have them do community work as a means of redemption.

Community ways of reconciling victims and crime perpetrators have already begun in East Timor's Oecussi enclave in East Nusa Tenggara. "The man who killed his own uncle came to our family to confess," said Oecussi native Francis Suni.

A number of other militiamen have traveled to Oecussi to convey similar stories, pointing to places where the bodies were dumped, he said. Then they quietly returned to "self-exile" despite offers to return. "We told the man, who has a degree in agriculture, that his skills were needed to rebuild Oecussi," Francis said.

He explained such revelations are made possible by customs regarding crimes in the community, which dictate that perpetrators are accepted back once they confess.

"I pity militiamen," said Francis, who was held at gunpoint by his adopted brother. "One said he and several others were forced by soldiers to consume pills -- some were brown and white -- they couldn't have acted on their own."

If pro-Indonesia militiamen went to Oecussi, to check on their land and remaining cattle, "no one would harm them, we would just let them be," Francis said.

This seems to be a rare case, with villagers elsewhere saying members of a militia would be accepted back into the community but with one condition -- "we'd hand them over first to the (UN) civil police".

In Balibo near the Indonesian border, townspeople say they would not harm militiamen "unless they resist" being taken to the civil police.

In Liquica, site of massacres in April and September 1999, the local priest says the thirst for revenge is ebbing.

"People no longer rush to see returning refugees" to check if any militia is among them, Father Yosef Daslan said.

Belo has been quoted as saying that reconciliation is not possible if justice is not served, citing the scores of women who have watched their husbands killed and those who cannot rest until the bodies are found.

Some widows have said they are willing to testify -- but when it comes to courts in Jakarta, some have expressed distrust.

"They know what will happen, the guilty will get away," says Laura Abarrantes of Fokupers women's organization.

More victims speaking up is crucial for the courts trying serious crimes -- including murder, rape, forced removal, torture and disappearance.

Judges say expectations for justice face the obstacle of many women still to speak up despite many testimonies already, as confided to the church, researchers or activists.

The lack of women investigators into crimes against humanity is one problem, says UN expert for crimes against humanity, James Dunn.

The most urgent need, says Dunn, "is Indonesian officers breaking ranks" with those who must protect themselves and their careers by keeping silent, even though some may have not agreed to orders and actions affecting civilians.

In the discourse of reconciliation, there are women who are even more silent.

With a smile, Theresa in Dili says that she and husband are going their separate ways, indefinitely.

"He cannot come home, let him stay there," says Theresa of her husband, a native of Kupang now residing in Atambua, a border town.

"He's a member of Aitarak," the Dili-based militia, she said.