Indonesia's troubled Papua fears for future

Indonesia's troubled Papua fears for future

It was a typical Sunday in a village not far from the highland
town of Wamena in Indonesia's restive Papua province. Word spread
that police from the feared elite mobile brigade were on their
way.

Villagers, wearing their best clothes at a Mass in a church,
dropped their prayer books and fled, said one village elder. Many
ran for the mountains that ring this mainly Christian region of
the world's most populous Muslim nation.

The police never came that Sunday a few months ago, but the
incident demonstrates the fear of the security forces across the
giant province.

Following the military's fresh offensive in Aceh province on
the northern tip of Sumatra island, in which more than 800 people
have been killed since May 19, independence and religious leaders
worry the country's other separatist hot spot will be next.

What happens in Papua, formerly Irian Jaya, will say much
about how far Indonesia is prepared to go to keep the archipelago
together. Foreign investors, eyeing the province's vast natural
resources, will be watching in particular.

Already, Jakarta's plan to split Papua into three provinces
has sparked discontent, and in recent weeks at least four people
have been killed in clashes. That could start a fresh cycle of
violence.

"This just showed how scared people are. Villagers are still
traumatized by past military operations," said the elder, who
asked that neither his name nor that of the village be used.

Larger in area than Japan, Papua has had an unhappy history
since Indonesia wrested control from former colonial ruler the
Netherlands in 1963. The United Nations later sanctioned a vote
by hand-picked local representatives that has been called unfair.

Jakarta says it has brought development to Papua, introducing
modernity to people who only recently have emerged from the Stone
Age. The army denies charges of rights abuses.

But a 10-day trip through this untamed region on the western
side of New Guinea island, where some tribesmen wear nothing but
penis sheaths, shows many Papuans want independence, having lost
faith in the government of President Megawati Sukarnoputri,
especially since she signed the plan to split Papua in January.

Intimidation of Jakarta's opponents had grown, some said.

Another potential flashpoint could be violence with migrants
from other parts of Indonesia. They comprise at least one third
of Papua's population and control the economy.

"Living here, being part of this community, part of these
people, you feel like there is a systematic agenda from Jakarta
to create conflict," said Benny Giay, a respected Protestant
church leader, wearing a knitted pouch for his handphone which
had Papua's banned independence flag woven on it.

Community leaders said Jakarta's plan to split up Papua was a
response to a growing movement of political and religious figures
backing independence.

The declaration of one separate province was postponed last
month after rival groups fought with spears and four people were
killed. The government argues that splitting up Papua will make
it easier to spread the province's wealth.

But at the heart of any debate about Papua is the military,
which has about 10,000 troops in the province.

Papua, also called West Papua, helps the generals meet
shortfalls from the state budget, which only covers a third of
their operational needs, through protection for foreign
investment projects and the military's own businesses.

"West Papua for the military is a treasure trove," said Denise
Leith, an Australian academic and author of The Politics of
Power: Freeport in Suharto's Indonesia.

"That's one reason why they would be far less willing to let
go of West Papua than they ever were with East Timor."

The military and the Jakarta elite are still chastened by East
Timor's loss in 1999, when the former Portuguese colony voted in
a UN-sponsored ballot to break from Indonesian rule.

Papua military chief Major-General Zainal Nurdin dismissed
threats from a dwindling band of rebels called the Free Papua
Organization (OPM) who have fought for independence for decades.

What concerned Nurdin was a civilian movement whose members,
he said, were using "clever" ways to pursue independence, such as
linking their agenda to human rights, traditional land usage
issues and demands for a revision of Papua's history.

"It's like this. If this is not handled seriously now, later
it will become worse," he said.

Nurdin said this group of "educated" people could be anyone.

Indeed, there was a flowering of openness in Papua after the
downfall of former autocratic President Suharto in 1998.

Tribal and community leaders established the Papuan Presidium
Council, which sought independence peacefully. It stole the
spotlight from OPM.

Then, in November 2001, special forces soldiers killed the
presidium's leader, Theys Eluay. Some were jailed, with the
toughest sentence three-and-a-half years.

Nurdin said if people were scared of the military, it was
because of the past, not post-Suharto military policies.

He said there was no need for martial law similar to that
imposed in Aceh. Accusations that the military wanted to create
conflict were nonsense while charges that the generals were using
Papua to make money were "vulgar", he said.

"Why would it be good to be in a conflict area? That's very
tiring. That's why I said if there are groups who still don't
like us, they will seek any reason (to attack us)," he said.

That doesn't wash with Eluay's replacement as leader of the
presidium, Tom Beanal.

"For 40 years we have been deceived. Every policy has been
made with the intention of getting rid of the Papuans," he said.
-- Dean Yates