E. Timor's difficult questions of reconciliation

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.