Recalling East Timor's mayhem

Recalling East Timor's mayhem

By Aboeprijadi Santoso

AMSTERDAM (JP): One year on, the killings and rampage by Army-
backed militias following the vote for independence in East
Timor, remain an intriguing issue with many questions left
unanswered. The September mayhem marks one of the worst
atrocities by Army elements since the 1965-66 bloodbath.

"This is the day I have been waiting for years," a young
Timorese student, Rosa, cried at Mahkota Hotel, Dili, shortly
after the United Nations announced the victory of the pro-
independence camp on Sept. 4 last year.

Sadly, she was among some 1200 victims reportedly killed in
the aftermath of the referendum. Furthermore, thousands of people
fled and about 250,000 or one third of the population were
transported over the border and public utilities were burned or
destroyed. The scorched earth operation sent much of the
territory to the "Year Zero".

Not even under Soeharto's New Order had a turn of events
developed into a human disaster so sharply, quickly and
extensively as in East Timor last year. Like Rosa, human rights
advocates greeted the Aug. 30 ballot and its outcome as a
"victory for human rights". Yet, it changed into the worst of
human wrongs within only a few days and, in some cases, such as
in the Suai area, merely hours.

It was during these critical days, between Aug. 30 and Sept 6,
that militiamen like Eurico Guteres, carrying automatic weapons,
suddenly ruled the streets, watching every port, issuing "exit
permits" and controlling anyone who attempted to leave the
country, while preparing a witch hunt.

The pro-independence camp and most local people had
anticipated some kind of "danger" after the vote. Instead of
celebrations, there was an uneasy peace which quickly turned into
tension. No public meetings were planned. Not a single voice of
joy was heard in public, despite the victory. Silence ruled as a
backlash was expected.

Dili was unusually quiet, but tense. Except for military
vehicles transporting soldiers' families to the harbor and the
arrival of new troops on Hercules aircraft at night, the city was
dead. Houses were abandoned and chickens and pigs ran freely on
the streets, revealing how terrified the inhabitants were when
they fled or were forced to board military vehicles to West
Timor.

In what appeared to be the signal to begin, the Mahkota Hotel,
the residence of Bishop Carlos Felipe Ximenes Belo and the
headquarters of the United Nations Mission in East Timor (UNAMET)
were attacked on Sept. 6 and soon the backyard of the Red Cross
office was flooded with refugees, while students and activists
were selected for execution near Pantai Makassar.

From the windows of the last flight of Merpati leaving what
used to be the 27th province of Indonesia, one could see how the
capital was shamelessly transformed into Dante's inferno. The
pro-integration leader F. Lopes da Cruz, whom I met onboard,
refused to make any comment but his face showed the tension,
apparently realizing that the moment of truth had come for his
homeland.

But wasn't it also a moment of truth for the Indonesian Army
in East Timor?

For once Dili was burnt, men in militia uniform, including
Army members, went on a rampage across much of the territory.
Eight Indonesian accredited observers, led by two brave
activists, Mindo Rajaguguk and Yeni Rosa Damayanti, were hunted
and had to take refuge before wandering across the country until
mid-September.

Shocked by the atrocities, they concluded that the military
emergency enforced by then chief of restoration command Gen. Kiki
Syahnakri, rather than controlling and disarming the militia,
continued to allow the militia to act at will.

Few observers were surprised by the September violence.
Abuses, atrocities and impunity were, after all, seen as part of
the continuing New Order pattern.

For the East Timorese, too, there was little reason to be
surprised. Given their experience of years of guerrilla war and
harsh rule, they must have realized too well that the Indonesian
Army would not simply pack and leave after it had suffered so
many victims, loss of resources and humiliation to keep the
territory within the republic.

People like Guteres were, after all, merely creations of the
special troops. He magically changed his image from being the son
of a Fretilin "terrorist" to a kind of Army hero.

Yet there was something seemingly mysterious behind the whole
tragedy. It was not only the Timorese, who since Aug. 30 had
basically expected some sort of Army revenge, but also many
civilian officials.

Some army officers, if for different reasons, must have
anticipated clashes and prepared, as Gen. Garnadi of the foreign
affairs mission did, systematic evacuation plans. Indeed, it may
be argued, any Army commander with past experience in East Timor
should have expected a nightmare when it came to the point when
the Army had to give the province up, precisely because such an
option had always been considered unthinkable.

Now the East Timorese voters had finally made that point
possible, but it was the diplomatic process which brought the
nightmare closer.

The New York May 5 agreement, for one thing, was a big gamble.
Particularly as it entrusted the Indonesian Army -- the very
force responsible for past atrocities -- with the security
arrangement, without first disarming the militia's.

That, indeed, was what the UN Secretary General Kofi Annan
urgently requested in his last minute memorandum attached to the
accord.

Since the special Lorosae police units, which according to the
deal had to ensure law and order in East Timor, were in effect
subordinated under the local Army command, obviously it was the
military chain of command that was responsible for the mayhem.

But other questions need to be raised as well. Where were the
provincial and district key authorities when the people
desperately needed help to survive? Why did some leave the
country soon after the vote, leaving an administrative vacuum,
and why did others stay. And why did both provide the crucial
opportunity for men like Guteres to act as warlord and start a
violent campaign?

Such a conspiracy would have been very difficult to implement
had the UN been able to continue its operation freely and safely.
So, once the UNAMET staff and personnel were finally beleaguered,
where were other international authorities in those critical days
when they were supposed to help control the post-ballot security?

Foreign missions, including the Portuguese and Indonesian
teams, were assigned as liaison officers, but they too had
probably left Dili even before the vote process had ended, thus
leaving the UN staff alone.

And, what was the UN sanctioned Committee for Peace and
Stability (KPS) for if they were absent when peace and stability
were most seriously threatened? Why did the diplomats of the
foreign affairs mission P3TT, Agus Tarmizi, Dino Pati Djalal, and
the KPS leading figures, Djoko Soegianto, Koesparmono Irsan, B.N.
Marbun, Bambang Soeharto and Benjamin Mangkudilaga, leave Dili in
such a hurry on Sept 3 by special Air Force Hercules planes just
as the rampage was about to be unleashed?

Finally, where was Indonesia's security liaison officer, Gen.
Zacky Anwar Makarim, when he was most needed as security
deteriorated? Was he in Los Palos in mid-September when the
journalist Agus Moeliana and nine Catholic nuns were killed by
militias, as unconfirmed reports suggest?

Many questions, few answers. But, inevitably, one is led to
wonder whether some civilian officials might have had knowledge
about the conspiracy or, at least, about the mayhem that was
about to occur.

In any case, some leading Army officers had urged public
officials and the national media representatives to leave East
Timor at the very latest on Sept. 3. Therefore, some authorities
in Jakarta must, somehow, have known in advance about the
rampage. One correspondent at Cilangkap military headquarters
called his colleagues in Dili shortly after the vote, and yelled
"Go home! There will be a clean-up after the referendum!"

A "clean-up"? Or a purge reminiscent of the 1965-1966 events
(albeit on a smaller scale)? In any case, now the time has come
for impunity to end. That, at least, would be a payment of
respect to many East Timorese, like Rosa, who have made great
sacrifices for their freedom.

The writer covered the election in East Timor last year for
Radio Netherlands.