SHADOW PLAYS - Refworld · SHADOW PLAYS: The Crisis of ... unseen hand controlling them from behind...

Refugees and Internally Displaced Persons in Indonesia 1 ◆

SHADOW PLAYS:SHADOW PLAYS:The Crisis of Refugees and

Internally Displaced Persons in Indonesia

In the region that is now Indonesia, puppet theater has been a widely popular art form forcenturies. It is particularly enjoyed on the island of Java, known for its intricately made puppets

of leather and wood. In the shadow puppet performances, figures are manipulated behind anilluminated cotton screen, telling stories that reflect the region’s Hindu-Buddhist heritage as

well as its more recent Muslim history. As with wooden marionettes, shadow puppetsare often controlled by a single puppeteer.

Puppet theater, particularly the shadow play, is often used as an analogy for the currentunrest in Indonesia, which has displaced nearly one million people. The displaced speak of an

unseen hand controlling them from behind the scenes, a “master manipulator” who stirs uptrouble, casts false blame, and causes the innocent to flee their homes. They sometimes surmisethe identity of the manipulator—often former president Suharto or, collectively, “the army”—but mostly they speak only of “elites” or “provocateurs.” While the causes of displacement arecomplex, many Indonesians feel strongly that they are being used to further the goals of one or

more “puppeteers” pulling the strings and casting shadows.

Jana MasonPolicy Analyst

U.S. Committee for Refugees ◆ 2

USCR Policy Analyst Jana Mason visitedIndonesia twice in 2000 to assess the situation ofrefugees and internally displaced persons in severalareas of the country. In January, she visited theterritory of Aceh (including Banda Aceh,Lhokseumawe, and Pidie), the island of Bali (to whichdisplaced persons from the nearby island of Lombokhad recently fled), and the territory of West Timor(Kupang and Atambua) in the province of East NusaTenggara (NTT). In July and August, she visited thecity of Pontianak (and surrounding area) in the prov-ince of West Kalimantan on the island of Borneo; thecity of Ujung Pandang (also known as Makassar) inthe province of South Sulawesi; the towns of Palu,Poso, and Tentena in the province of Central Sulawesi;and the islands of Ternate and Bacan in the provinceof North Maluku. She also met with Indonesiangovernment officials and international nongovern-mental organizations in Jakarta.

This paper includes general findings regard-ing internal displacement in Indonesia as well asregion-specific findings. The latter concern only aportion of the internal displacement in the country, ascertain major areas of displacement (such as Ambonand Southeast Sulawesi) were not visited. However,much of the data from the areas visited is indicative ofdisplacement throughout the archipelago.

Most information on East Timorese refugeesin West Timor is found in that section (See p. 36).

Numbers and Locations

Estimates of the numbers of internally displaced per-sons in Indonesia—both the total and in the variousregions—vary by source, although not significantly.Most sources put the total at between 750,000 and850,000. These estimates do not include the 125,000East Timorese refugees in West Timor. In earlyNovember 2000, an Indonesian government agencyput the total figure at more than one million people,spread over 18 provinces.

The largest numbers of internally displacedpersons are currently in the provinces of Maluku(215,000), North Maluku (207,000), and SoutheastSulawesi (110,000 to 130,000). An estimated 73,000are displaced in Central Sulawesi, and in WestKalimantan the figure is 60,000 to 70,000 persons.The latest reports indicate more than 36,000 displaced

I. INTRODUCTION

Nearly one million people are internally displacedwithin Indonesia, putting it high on the list—numeri-cally— of countries experiencing a displacement cri-sis. The displaced are in virtually every province ofthe sprawling island nation, from Aceh in the far westto Irian Jaya (also known as West Papua) in the east.In addition, an estimated 125,000 East Timorese refu-gees are in the Indonesian territory of West Timor,while an unknown number of East Timorese areelsewhere in Indonesia.

Much of the recent displacement is the resultof clashes between Muslims and Christians in theMalukus, a group of about 1,000 islands comprisingthe provinces of Maluku and North Maluku (formerlyknown as the Moluccas and, in colonial times, theSpice Islands). Close to 90 percent of Indonesians areMuslim, but the population of the Malukus—abouttwo million people prior to the fighting—is almostevenly divided between Christians and Muslims.Persons from the Malukus have fled to various areasof Indonesia.

Central Sulawesi Province has also experi-enced religious violence and displacement similar tothat in the Malukus. In Aceh, on the northwest tip ofSumatra, fighting between the Indonesian militaryand separatist rebels—despite a formal “humanitarianpause”—continues to produce tens of thousands ofdisplaced persons. In West Kalimantan, on the islandof Borneo, brutal fighting between ethnic groups hascaused displacement since 1996. West Papua ishosting displaced persons from the Malukus and hasbegun to produce its own displaced persons as a resultof its longstanding independence movement. Dis-placement has also affected the politically dominantIndonesian island of Java and the tropical resort ofBali.

In many areas of Indonesia, a significantpercentage of the displaced were originally“transmigrants” who are now finding themselves up-rooted once more. Transmigration is a longstandinggovernmental program through which Indonesiansfrom the island of Java (and some other areas) aregiven land and economic incentives to relocate to lesspopulated areas. (See box, page 8.) As a result of thecurrent conflicts in Indonesia, some transmigrants arenow returning to their areas of ethnic origin (or thoseof their parents), while others have gone to newdestinations.

II. GENERAL FINDINGS


in North Sulawesi, 30,000 in North Sumatra, 20,000throughout Java, 17,000 in West Papua, 15,000 inSouth Sulawesi, and at least 8,000 in Aceh (althoughthe figure there fluctuates often.) Thousands are alsodisplaced elsewhere in Sumatra and on the islands ofNusa Tenggara.

Most of these numbers are fast changing,particularly in areas of ongoing violence.

Causes of Displacement

Indonesia, the world’s fourth most populous nation, isa vast archipelago with more than 3,000 inhabitedislands. With 360 tribal and ethno-linguistic groupsand more than 250 different languages and dialects,the country is far from homogenous. Although it hasthe largest Muslim population in any country, it is notan Islamic state. Islam in Indonesia is infused withother beliefs and is characterized by regional varia-tions. Thirty percent of Indonesians practice a differ-ent religion altogether.

Partly because of its size and disunity, Indone-sia experienced great political turmoil following inde-pendence in 1949, culminating in the military coup of1965 that toppled Sukarno and brought Suharto to

power. (Sukarno and Suharto, like many Indonesians,use only one name). Since then, rebellion has beensporadic and, until recently, unsuccessful. In May1998, after ruling the country for more than 30years, President Suharto was forced to step aside.His immediate successor, B.J. Habibie, was a closeSuharto associate. In October 1999, Indonesia’sparliament elected Abdurrahman Wahid, a Muslimcleric widely known as “Gus Dur,” as Indonesia’sfourth president.

Given Indonesia’s complex demographics andits current political turmoil, the causes of displacementdefy easy analysis. There are both profound similari-ties and significant differences among the conflictsthat have led to displacement around the country. InAceh, displacement results from the conflict betweenseparatist rebels and the military, along with the hu-man rights abuses accompanying that conflict. InMaluku, North Maluku, and Sulawesi, what appears tobe a religious conflict between Muslims and Chris-tians is at its root most likely a conflict among power-ful civil, military, and economic forces both within andoutside the region. These forces have used religion tosow distrust and fear between the two groups, creatinga conflict that quickly spread to other regions. In

A burned mosque outside of Poso, in Central Sulawesi, reflects the religious violence that has wrackedthe area. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason


Kalimantan, tribal clashes between Madurese on oneside and Dayaks and Malays on the other resultedlargely from Indonesia’s transmigration policy—afactor in the other conflicts as well. In Papua, as inAceh, transmigration and the control of natural re-sources fuel a separatist movement based on a view ofthe Javanese as neo-colonialists. In Java and else-where, transmigrants who for decades have lived onother islands are returning to a home that is no longera home, adding to the ranks of the displaced.

When asked why Indonesia is experiencingsuch turmoil, Indonesians and others offer myriadtheories to explain the root causes. The following arethe most popular theories, followed by a discussion ofother, more localized, sources of conflict. Of thesebroad theories, the first three are—in USCR’s opin-ion—likely to be the most valid, although they do notexplain all, or even most, of the violence throughoutIndonesia. Of the others, each likely has a smallelement of truth but, especially in the case of thetheories about “Islamicizing” or “Christianizing” In-donesia, that small element is what makes them sodangerous. Observers say:

1) that poor implementation of the transmigra-tion policy—regardless of its purposes—is caus-ing longstanding resentments to explode. Oneaid worker told USCR that transmigration hasbeen the “downfall of the country.” Becausetransmigration often involves a particular reli-gious or ethnic group (usually Javanese Muslimsbut also Madurese Muslims, Balinese Hindus,and others), economic disparities created by trans-migration often cause what appear to be religiousor ethnic clashes that are in fact economic at root.Muslims from Makian Island (which was evacu-ated when a volcano erupted) received land andother privileges in the mostly Christian town ofMalifut. In West Kalimantan, Muslimtransmigrants from Madura were seen as eco-nomically favored over native Dayaks, who areChristian.

2) that members of the Indonesian military (par-ticularly the army) are fomenting unrest through-out the country to demonstrate that a strongmilitary is needed to restore order, and thereforeto hinder Wahid’s stated goal of reforming themilitary and reducing its role in civilian life. (Seebox, page 28.)

3) that “political elites” opposed to the Wahid

government may be attempting to destabilize hisregime in order to regain influence.

4) that individuals with strong business interestsin Indonesia—including the children of formerpresident Suharto, all of whom own loggingconcessions and other ventures throughout thecountry—may provoke the troubles to preventpolitical and economic reforms that are counterto their interests.

5) that Suharto and his allies could be attemptingto destabilize the current government and fore-stall corruption prosecutions. In September 2000,a Jakarta court dismissed the case against Suhartoafter a panel of physicians determined that hewas too ill to stand trial for allegedly embezzlingmore than $500 million in a charity scheme. InNovember 2000, an appeals court decided thetrial could resume without him.

6) that current or former military leaders respon-sible for past atrocities—in East Timor and else-where—are causing the troubles to create dis-tractions for the government and therefore delayinvestigations and prosecutions for human rightsabuses (or perhaps to prevent them entirely, inthe hope that if they demonstrate the continuedusefulness of a strong military, there will be littleincentive to investigate its leaders).

7) that political and/or military actors are at-tempting to quash separatism throughout Indo-nesia by provoking distrust among allies in theseparatist struggle (such as Muslims and Chris-tians who together proclaimed the Republic ofthe South Moluccas in the 1950s).

8) that certain leaders of Muslim-based politicalparties and/or other Muslim leaders are trying toachieve their longstanding goal of “Islamicizing”Indonesia. While most Christians and Muslimsemphasize that they have lived in harmony fordecades and that the current unrest is not theresult of deep-seated religious animosity, someChristians believe there is an organized effort todrive out Indonesia’s Christians, particularly fromeastern Indonesia where they are largely concen-trated, or at least to prevent them from becomingtoo strong politically or economically.

9) that Christian leaders and those in the interna-


direct reference to the religions). The sectarian fight-ing has caused death, injury, and displacement amongboth communities. In Central Sulawesi, the Muslimcommunity has reportedly suffered disproportionately.

Some observers have speculated that develop-ments in East Timor, which achieved independencefrom Indonesia in late 1999, have inspired the separat-ism and violence now occurring throughout the archi-pelago. While it is true that East Timor’s indepen-dence gave new hope to the longstanding separatistmovements in Aceh and West Papua, it does notexplain most of the violence in Indonesia. In WestKalimantan, the tribal conflict between Madurese andother ethnic groups—which initially began in the1960s—was renewed in late 1996, nearly three yearsbefore the East Timorese independence vote. In Cen-tral Sulawesi, the Muslim-Christian violence started inDecember 1998, a month before then-president Habibieannounced that he would allow a referendum in EastTimor. In Ambon, the triggering incident was sevenmonths before the referendum, and in North Malukuthe violence began the very month of the East Timorvote. In fact, with international attention focused onEast Timor, the killings and devastation in NorthMaluku went virtually unnoticed.

tional community sympathetic to them are at-tempting to “Christianize” parts of Indonesia.As evidence, they point to the multinationalinvolvement in the independence of predomi-nantly Catholic East Timor.

10) that religious and ethnic tensions that ex-isted all along but were kept in check bySuharto’s authoritarian rule are now rising tothe surface as Indonesia struggles with a tran-sition to democracy.

Local Sources of Conflict

In addition to offering these broad theories, displacedpersons and others point to local power struggles andother explanations for the violence. In most areas thathave experienced religious violence, the conflict istraced to one or more incidents between communitiesor individuals. In Central Sulawesi, for example,Christian and Muslim communities supported differ-ent candidates for a local political office. In NorthMaluku, natives and transmigrants competed for jobswith a gold mining company.

In certain areas of Indonesia, groups callingthemselves “Jihad” warriors (or Muslim holy war-riors) are the most direct cause of much of the violenceand displacement. The most well-known of thesegroups is the Laskar Jihad (Jihad Force), based incentral Java. The Laskar Jihad has deployed an esti-mated 3,000 fighters to Maluku since April 2000, andthe Indonesian government has been largely power-less to prevent their actions.

The Laskar Jihad members are armed withsophisticated weapons and are well-trained. Becauseof this, many observers suspect that one or moremembers of Indonesia’s “political elite” are fundingthe warriors. In addition, some Indonesian soldiers arereportedly directly assisting the Jihad. In July 2000,Wahid ordered the Laskar Jihad to be forcibly re-moved from Ambon. When Jihad leaders threatenedreprisals against “Christian posts” on Java (interpretedas churches), the government reportedly backed off.The next month, former defense minister JuwonoSuharsono said the ranks of the Laskar Jihad andrelated forces had reached 10,000 people and were the“main reason for the ongoing ground conflict.”

In the Malukus, Central Sulawesi, and else-where, Christians have formed gangs and paramilitariesto fight Muslims. In these areas, Muslims are knownas the “white” group and Christians as the “red” group(terms reportedly coined by the military to prevent

These children are among the more than70,000 persons, both Muslim and Christian,who have fled the religious violence in CentralSulawesi. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason


Indonesia’s Response to the Displaced

The Indonesian government acknowledges the scopeof the displacement and its responsibility for assistingthe displaced. In most areas of the country, thegovernment is providing at least some assistance todisplaced persons, and it cooperates with UN agen-cies, international nongovernmental organizations(NGOs), and others offering such assistance. How-ever, several factors—including Indonesia’s currentpolitical crises and ongoing economic problems—have prevented the government from effectively re-sponding to the needs of the displaced persons.

The government has emphasized that the cur-rent unrest, particularly the religious violence inMaluku, is an internal matter and that international“interference” will not be permitted. In July 2000,when the European Union expressed concern over thesituation in the Malukus, Wahid ruled out any possibil-ity of foreign peacekeepers to quell the violence. Hesaid only humanitarian assistance, and possibly logis-tical support, would be welcomed. Some observershave speculated that if the violence continues, Wahidmay eventually relent to some form of internationalpeacekeeping (as he did in East Timor), particularly inthe wake of the September 2000 killing of three UN aidworkers in West Timor at the hands of pro-Indonesiamilitias.

The governmental system for responding todisplacement is complex and confusing, with a widearray of ministries and departments playing a role.Complicating matters is the government’s national-level reorganization and a decentralization of power tothe local level. According to one NGO, the roles of thevarious agencies and bodies have been “fuzzy andconfused.”

Many decisions regarding assistance to dis-placed persons and other victims of natural or man-made disasters are made by the National DisasterManagement Coordination Board (Bakornas PB), a“nonstructural” agency answering directly to Wahid.The agency is comprised of various cabinet-levelofficials and the chair of the National Social WelfareAgency (BKSN). BKSN and the other agencies jointlydecide the type and amount of assistance to be given torefugees and displaced persons.

Normally, the government gives emergencyassistance—usually 400 grams of rice and about 1,500rupiah (about $2) per person—for the first two weeksafter a disaster. After that, the assistance varies.BKSN reportedly decided that displaced persons in

North Sumatra, East Java, West Kalimantan, and South-east Sulawesi would receive assistance for 70 days,while those in Aceh would have 75 days of assistanceand those in Maluku 90 days. According to theIndonesia Child Welfare Foundation, however, theseguidelines do not always stand. Assistance in Malukuand West Kalimantan, for example, was extended forat least a year. Likewise, the government announcedand then retracted a decision to cut off aid to therefugees in West Timor.

At the time of the USCR site visit in July 2000,much of the government’s response to refugees andinternally displaced persons fell under the purview ofthe Coordinating Minister for People’s Welfare andPoverty Alleviation, a position that has since beenrestructured and renamed. The Coordinating Ministertold USCR that the government “welcomes the sym-pathy and help of foreign countries” in helping inter-nally displaced persons.

He added that the government’s priority is to“repatriate” displaced persons to their homes. Be-cause such return is difficult to achieve (often becauseof the security situation) and because it is also difficultto find settlement areas in a short period of time, headded that there is an urgent need for food and tempo-rary settlements, as well as for temporary schools andother assistance in the camps. Transmigration, he said,is the “last choice” solution for internally displacedpersons, although he noted that some displaced per-sons have been officially transmigrated.

The Indonesian Red Cross (known as PMI),often in partnership with the International Committeeof the Red Cross (ICRC), provides emergency relief todisplaced persons in various areas of Indonesia. Al-though PMI receives no direct funding from the Indo-nesian government, the government has asked it toplay a coordination role on behalf of the internallydisplaced. In addition, many Indonesian NGOs areproviding varying degrees of assistance—some asimplementing partners of governments or interna-tional agencies, others purely through local sources offunding.

International Assistance

A large number of UN agencies are working in Indo-nesia to assess and, in some cases, to respond to theneeds of internally displaced persons. The residentrepresentative of the UN Development Program(UNDP) serves as the UN Humanitarian Coordinatorin Indonesia, and UNDP itself conducts some limitedactivities on behalf of displaced persons. The UN


TRANSMIGRATION: WISE POLICY OR THE “DOWNFALL OF THE COUNTRY”?

The term transmigrasi (transmigration) isused in Indonesia to refer to the movementof people from the most densely populated

islands—primarily Java, Bali, Lombok, andMadura—to underdeveloped and sparsely popu-lated islands in other parts of the archipelago.Historically, leaders in Jakarta have believed that alack of internal migration has led to unemploymentor underemployment and significant disparitiesbetween the country’s lesser and more developedareas. This belief prompted the government toestablish transmigration projects to curb popula-tion and land pressures.

In recent years, however, the policy hascome under criticism for several reasons, includingthe little economic benefit the new settlementsprovide to the transmigrants; the environmentalimpact of deforestation and other land clearingactivities; and land disputes between transmigrantsand indigenous peoples whose needs and rightswere often pushed to the wayside. Some Indone-sians view transmigration as an attempt to spreadthe influence of Javanese culture. Whether or notthat view is accurate, transmigration hasundisputedly fueled tensions between religiousand ethnic groups, some of which have led to large-scale conflict and displacement. One humanitarianaid worker told USCR that transmigration is the“downfall of the country.”

The idea of moving people to underdevel-oped areas of the Indonesian archipelago began inthe 1930s under the Dutch colonialists, with theaim of alleviating population pressures in Java.After independence, the program was more or lesscontinued by the Indonesian government, whichsought to foster a more balanced population distri-bution. The government made numerous efforts inthe 1950s and 1960s to establish successful agri-cultural settlements and to coordinate the publicand private agencies responsible for their over-sight. This entailed extensive government propa-ganda to arouse community interest in transmigra-tion. As a result, significant numbers of peoplechose to move to other areas. However, the gov-ernment was concerned primarily with numbersand failed to consider the economic impact of thenew settlements, both on the migrant farmers and

the receiving communities. Moreover, politicaland economic problems in the 1960s drained gov-ernment resources and diverted attention from cor-recting the flaws of the transmigration policy.

In the late 1960s, transmigration becamepart of Suharto’s first five-year development plan.In an attempt to revitalize the failing economy, thegovernment shifted the focus of transmigrationtoward agricultural expansion and regional devel-opment. From 1969 to 1974, the government openedup new agricultural lands with greater diversifica-tion and intensification of farming methods. Thepractice of moving indigenous people into transmi-gration areas, in an effort to improve their economicposition, also came into practice at this time. Thepractice was also motivated, however, by a desire tomake more land available for cultivation and settle-ment. The government hoped the practice wouldfacilitate assimilation between the indigenous popu-lation and the Javanese or Balinese enclaves set-tling in the area.

In 1983, Indonesia established a cabinet-level transmigration agency, which focused on theagricultural potential of Indonesia’s less denselypopulated areas. The primary destination fortransmigrants had traditionally been the westernisland of Sumatra but began shifting to areas inSulawesi, Kalimantan, and Irian Jaya (West Papua).The basic tenets of the program, however, haveremained the same. The government attempts torecruit voluntary transmigrants and provides themwith land and other economic incentives. Since the1980s, the government has enlisted the help of civilengineers, regional planners, and environmentalconsultants to address concerns over poor imple-mentation of transmigration projects. Many ofthese consultants are funded by international devel-opment agencies (e.g., the World Bank) and throughforeign aid programs.

The policy, however, continues to bewrought with administrative and structural prob-lems. In particular, the human and environmentalimpact on Indonesia’s outer islands has promptedcriticism and mistrust within the country, question-ing the future viability of transmigration as a devel-opment tool. It is also not clear that the policyalways benefits the transmigrants. In some areas,


Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs(OCHA) has also sent staff to coordinate efforts incertain regions of the country. The World FoodProgram (WFP) provides most of the food distributedto displaced persons, primarily through NGOs. TheWorld Health Organization (WHO) has conducteddetailed assessments of the health conditions of dis-placed persons and has made recommendations for aresponse. The UN High Commissioner for Refugees(UNHCR), through its office in Jakarta, has partici-pated in UN missions to assess the situation of dis-placed persons in various regions and has providedadvice. It has not, however, as yet had a significantrole in assisting or ensuring the protection of internallydisplaced persons in Indonesia. The United NationsChildren’s Fund (UNICEF) has also participated inassessment missions.

In July 2000, five UN agencies established aformal presence in Ambon. Representatives of UNDP,WFP, WHO, UNICEF, and OCHA are providingassistance (in cooperation with international and localNGOs), monitoring ongoing needs, and disseminating

information. The UN suspended operations in Ambonand in North Maluku in September 2000 because ofviolence but had re-opened the offices by December.OCHA has said the UN will also establish a monitor-ing presence in Manado (North Sulawesi), Palu (Cen-tral Sulawesi), and Sorong (West Papua).

International NGOs assisting displaced per-sons in Indonesia include Médecins Sans Frontières(MSF), Action Contre la Faim (ACF), World VisionInternational (WVI), Oxfam, Mercy Corps, CARE,the International Catholic Migration Commission(ICMC), Catholic Relief Services (CRS), and JesuitRefugee Service (JRS). ICRC is active in manyregions of Indonesia, above and beyond its funding ofPMI.

Conditions for the Internally Displaced

In certain areas, particularly Ambon and other areas ofMaluku and North Maluku, the security situation hashindered assistance to the displaced and has causedsome international agencies to suspend operations.

such as West Papua, the government has beenaccused of placing people into swampland, floodplains, and other areas with little chance of agricul-tural success.

Many Indonesians and outsiders also viewtransmigration as a cause of much of the turmoilwracking the country. If—as many believe—largerpolitical forces are creating unrest, those forceshave built on communal tensions created by de-cades of transmigration. While those tensionsappear grounded in ethnic or religious hatred, theyare at root economic. Because Indonesia is over-whelmingly Muslim, most transmigrants—such asthe Javanese and Madurese—are Muslim. How-ever, they have often been placed in heavily Chris-tian areas such as West Papua and Maluku. If thetransmigrants become more economically success-ful than the local population, resentments canappear to be religiously based. Whentransmigrants share religion with the indigenouspopulation, hostilities can appear directed at thetransmigrants’ ethnicity, especially given the widelyheld belief that Jakarta wishes to “Javanize” theother islands.

In many cases, low-level but longstandingtransmigration tensions have risen to the surface as

Indonesia struggles with a transition to democracy.Many observers believe forces seeking to destabi-lize the country have exploited these tensions. Inmany conflict areas, large numbers of transmigrantshave fled the region, some returning to their nativeisland (or that of their parents), others fleeing to thenearest safe port. Yet, as an aid worker noted, “thegovernment not only doesn’t see transmigration as aproblem but it sees it as a solution” (by relocatingcertain groups of displaced persons). Yet, the solu-tions are not always clear. As a transmigrant whofled his home in West Papua noted, “We are victimsof bad government policy. The government mustsend us home or transfer us to better locations.”

In December 2000, Indonesia's transmigra-tion minister, Alhilal Hamdi, said the governmenthad terminated the regular inter-island transmigra-tion program four months earlier, when he wasappointed minister. Hamdi said the governmentwas instead focusing on local transmigration pro-grams, particularly in West Java. “We will onlywork to resettle refugees and local people in newsettlements in the same province, at the most inneighboring districts,” he added. He noted, how-ever, that some “spontaneous transmigration”would still occur.


Also in these areas, the logistical challenges posed byIndonesia’s geography (including the distances be-tween islands) has prevented an adequate response. Itis in these areas, however, that the needs of thedisplaced are believed to be the most critical, withreports of serious malnutrition and disease. In onecamp in North Maluku visited by USCR, the dis-placed were living under plastic sheeting on a dockowned by a fish processing plant. The camp resi-dents have since been moved to a new location, butthe new site also has problems that limit its long-term viability.

In most other areas, including nearly all areasvisited by USCR in July and August 2000, the dis-placed are in conditions that, while not adequate for thelong term, are not desperate. The basic needs of thedisplaced—shelter, food, sanitation, and health—areusually being met. Throughout Indonesia, many dis-placed persons are in “collective centers” such assports stadiums, warehouses, or other buildings. Oth-ers are in more traditional “camps” comprised ofnewly built structures of wood or other materials. Inthe worst camps, they are under plastic sheeting. Stillother displaced persons are in private homes, oftenthose of family members or friends but also those ofcommunity members willing to help.

In Aceh, the numbers of displaced personshave increased sharply since the USCR site visit inJanuary 2000, and conditions for the displaced havedeteriorated. Many of the displaced are gatheredaround mosques or other buildings, often living underplastic sheeting. Because of the security situation andwidely publicized attacks on humanitarian workers,including three local staff of Oxfam, few agenciesare now providing assistance to the displaced inAceh.

In areas of Indonesia that have experiencedreligious violence, displaced persons are generallyseparated by religion. Camps or collective centersusually contain one or more villages that fled together.While many of those villages were religiously mixedprior to the violence, generally only one religiouscommunity chose to flee, often after—or in anticipa-tion of—an attack by the other group. In some loca-tions, displaced Christians are in camps just milesaway from displaced Muslims. In other cases, onegroup, usually the Christians, has entirely evacu-ated the region or the island. Thus, some areas ofIndonesia are gradually reconstituting themselves alongreligious lines.

Some displaced persons have already beenrelocated by the Indonesian government, either for

temporary or long-term purposes. USCR visited tworelocation sites. In North Maluku, the military wassupervising construction of a site intended as short-term shelter for 3,000 residents of a camp whereconditions were harsh. At the time of the USCRvisit, the old camp was about to close and all resi-dents were to be moved to the new site whereconditions were better. In West Kalimantan, thegovernment had relocated 500 displaced families toa site intended as a long-term solution. The familieshad volunteered for the move but, after living therefor nearly a year and being unable to cultivate theland, many doubted they would be able to stay theremuch longer.

In late August 2000, the National Commis-sion for the Protection of Children, an IndonesianNGO, estimated that 60 percent of the refugees anddisplaced persons in Indonesia were under 14 years ofage. The Commission also said many displaced chil-dren age five and under were suffering from malnutri-tion, a lack of proper medical treatment, and insuffi-cient sanitation. As an example, they said more than1,000 children had died in Sambas, in West Kalimantan,because of a shortage of potable water.

The Commission also reported that children inmany camps were being sexually exploited. Similarly,a University of Indonesia medical team known asMER-C (Medical Emergency Rescue Committee),which has assisted displaced persons in various partsof the country, reported that some displaced girls haveresorted to prostitution. During the July 2000 site visit,several local NGOs told USCR that some displacedpersons were selling their children because they wereunable to care for them. USCR was unable to confirmthese reports.

Prospects for the Future

The vast majority of displaced persons interviewed byUSCR said they wish to return to their homes. In mostcases, however, they said they had no immediateprospects for return, and many said they believed theywould be killed if they returned at this time. Most saidthey would not return unless the Indonesian govern-ment could ensure their safety, although many said themilitary had done nothing to prevent the attacks thathad led to their displacement.

Displaced persons told USCR they will acceptrelocation by the government—or even formal trans-migration—if the government tells them it is the bestsolution. Many said they would go “wherever thegovernment tells us.”


Numerous organizations concerned with theviolence and displacement in Indonesia—includingthe Indonesian government, many international andlocal NGOs, and the U.S. Agency for InternationalDevelopment—are urging reconciliation among par-ties to the various conflicts, and in some cases aredeveloping projects to achieve this. Some observershave urged caution in this undertaking. One NGOworker said, “It won’t be enough to get the leaderstogether; reconciliation needs to come from the groundup.” Both Muslim and Christian leaders are forminginvestigation teams to assess the causes of the conflictsand to propose solutions. But another NGO workernoted that “These teams won’t beseen as credible by the other side orby the public in general” and sug-gested that such investigations beconducted by either nonsectarian or-ganizations or by representatives ofboth religions (or all sides to an eth-nic conflict) appointed by a neutralbody.

NGOs have noted that, asthey flee, the displaced bring theirstories—and evidence of atrocities—with them, often expanding the con-flict area. For example, many of theclashes that have occurred in CentralSulawesi, Lombok, and even Javahave been related to the conflict inAmbon. Some clashes even beganthrough demonstrations or prayermeetings for the people of Ambon.Many NGOs are now worried aboutNorth Sulawesi, particularlyManado, which is receiving dis-placed Christians from both CentralSulawesi and North Maluku. AManado-based Christian “brother-hood” organization reportedly an-nounced that if the religious con-flicts continued in Ambon, theywould begin burning mosques andtaking other action against Muslimsin Manado.

Since the September 2000murders of the UNHCR workers inWest Timor, the international com-munity has become increasinglyaware of the Indonesiangovernment’s inability to curb theviolence. Until it is brought under

control, however, the number of displaced personswill likely increase.

As well as the immediate concerns over safetyand material assistance, the long-term impact of thebloodshed has become a major concern. In October2000, a prominent Indonesian psychologist said theSuharto regime was so “repressive and firm in itsdenial” of conflicts that even journalists were reluctantto report on communal violence. As a result, he said,Indonesia’s mental health professionals are not trainedto deal with traumatized people.

◆ ◆ ◆

This man and hundreds of others reside in small huts built aspart of a cultural exhibition center in Tentena, CentralSulawesi. Many said they hid in the forest after “the otherside” in the religious conflict attacked their village and burnedtheir houses. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason

◆ ◆ ◆



In December 2000, the World Food Program reportedthat more than 8,000 persons were internally displacedwithin Aceh—a decrease of some 7,000 from theprevious month and nearly 25,000 less than in Octo-ber. The level of displacement in Aceh fluctuatedwidely in 2000, from approximately 4,000 in Januaryto some 80,000 in August.

In October, local NGOs reported that some16,000 of the displaced persons in Aceh (roughly halfat the time) were Javanese transmigrants, with the restbeing ethnic Acehnese. The ethnic Acehnese arelocated throughout the region, while most Javaneseare in Central Aceh.

In addition to displacement in Aceh itself, anunknown number of persons have fled Aceh for Medan,a city just south of Aceh in the province of NorthSumatra. The displaced in Medan include both nativeAcehnese and Javanese transmigrants.


Aceh, located on the northern tip of the island ofSumatra, represents Indonesia’s most longstandingseparatist movement. For more than 120 years, theAcehnese have sought independence, first from Dutchcolonizers and later from Indonesia, which obtained

the territory in 1949 in what the Acehnese regard as anillegal transaction.

Three times since then, the Indonesian gov-ernment has pledged to give Aceh some form ofautonomy, most notably in 1959 when Aceh became a“special territory” with an ostensibly high degree offreedom in religious, educational, and cultural mat-ters. The Acehnese, however, say the status has beenvirtually meaningless.

In addition to believing Indonesia illegallyoccupies their territory, Acehnese resent what theyview as Indonesia’s exploitation of Aceh’s naturalresources—a complaint shared by other provinces butparticularly acute in Aceh, which is rich in oil andnatural gas. Aceh is viewed as crucial to the economicsurvival of Indonesia, as its resources account for 20percent of the national budget. The Acehnese alsoview Indonesia’s transmigration policy as an attemptto favor the Javanese economically and to spread theinfluence of Javanese culture.

Like the rest of Indonesia, Aceh is overwhelm-ingly Muslim. However, the Acehnese—while takingpains to note that they are not “fundamentalist”—claim to practice a purer form of Islam than most otherIndonesians. Many Acehnese advocate an indepen-dent Aceh based on Islamic law.

In 1976, the goal of independence was ad-vanced through the founding of “Gerakan AcehMerdeka” (Free Aceh Movement), an armed resis-tance group generally known by its acronym, GAM. Inthe late 1970s, Indonesian authorities conducted massarrests of GAM members and shut down their activi-ties until 1989, when the movement was resurrected.In response, in 1990 the government declared Aceh amilitary operations zone (known as DOM) and launcheda counter-insurgency campaign that led to the deathsand disappearances of many civilians. Torture, rape,and extrajudicial killings are among the reported hu-man rights abuses. In 1994, Amnesty Internationalestimated that at least 2,000 people had been killed inAceh between 1989 and 1991 alone.

The May 1998 downfall of Suharto sparkednew hope for the Acehnese. In August 1998, follow-ing the discovery of mass graves in Aceh, Indonesia’sthen-defense minister and armed forces commander,General Wiranto, announced the lifting of the DOMstatus and apologized to the Acehnese people forhuman rights abuses committed by the Indonesianmilitary. However, the withdrawal of troops and otherpromised reforms were short-lived. Before long, theDOM-era violence was surpassed, and the Acehnesecalls for independence grew louder.

III. INTERNALLY DISPLACED PERSONSIN ACEH


In 1999, large numbers of Acehnese beganfleeing their homes in response to brutality by themilitary and police, or out of fear of being caught up inclashes between the security forces and GAM. Al-though some Acehnese—particularly those with fi-nancial means—fled outside of Aceh (often to Medan),most remained inside, usually in camps that formedaround mosques and school compounds. The monthspreceding Indonesia’s general election in October1999 saw a dramatic increase in the number of inter-nally displaced persons, not only because of the vio-lence but because some GAM members reportedlyordered Acehnese to leave their homes and set upcamps to avoid being forced by the military to vote.The Acehnese may therefore have feared both themilitary and GAM. Some villagers sought to avoidboth by fleeing to the forests and mountains.

January 2000 saw mounting pressure on

Indonesia’s new president, Wahid, to end the violenceand human rights abuses in Aceh and to hold trials forthose accused of atrocities. Although prior to hiselection he had publicly supported an East Timor-likereferendum in Aceh (allowing a choice between au-tonomy within Indonesia or independence), once inoffice he asserted that the referendum should onlyaddress whether Aceh should be governed by Sharia(Islamic law).

In February 2000, GAM’s military commanderin Aceh, Tenguku Abdullah Syafi’ie, publicly an-nounced the rebels’ willingness to negotiate a cease-fire if the army and police discontinued “sweeping”operations in Aceh (operations that include roadblocks,door-to-door searches, and other techniques ostensi-bly to locate GAM members but also reportedly usedto intimidate civilians and extort money). Manydisplaced Acehnese have said that such operations, or

On September 2, 2000, the body of Jafar Siddiq Hamzah, a U.S. permanentresident and prominent activist for human rights in Aceh and throughoutIndonesia, was found outside the North Sumatra city of Medan, near Aceh.Hamzah’s death sparked sadness and outrage on the part of his many friendsand colleagues, including those of us at the U.S. Committee for Refugees.

Born in the village of Pulo near Lhokseumawe, Aceh, Hamzah left his hometo work to unify Acehnese freedom movements and help bring an end to theviolence that has caused the deaths of more than five thousand people in Acehin the 1990s alone. Hamzah was a human rights activist and lawyer who, underpersistent threats and intimidation from the Indonesian military, left Aceh in1996 to move to New York City. In 1999, he enrolled as a graduate studentin political science at the New School for Social Research. At the same time, heestablished and chaired the International Forum for Aceh. He made numeroustrips to Indonesia to help improve the human rights situation, while working

tirelessly to achieve a referendum on Aceh’s independence. Hamzah was instrumental in the founding of “Su Aceh,” thefirst newspaper published in the Acehnese language.

Hamzah returned to Aceh in July 2000 to help set up a local office of the Support Committee for Human Rightsin Aceh (SCHRA)—an umbrella group with dozens of institutional members worldwide—and to explore legal remediesfor alleged corporate involvement in human rights abuses in Aceh. On August 5, he disappeared after leaving a meetingin Medan. Numerous organizations soon joined an international campaign urging Indonesia to locate Hamzah.Nevertheless, on September 2, Hamzah’s body and those of four other unidentified persons were found outside Medan.Hamzah was 35 years old. Although his body revealed signs of torture, the cause of death has not yet been determined.

Individuals and agencies around the world, including the U.S. State Department, have called on the Indonesiangovernment to investigate Hamzah’s death and to prosecute those responsible. Thus far, the government has providedlittle information. Although Jafar’s family and many observers suspect the involvement of the Indonesian army, no evidencehas yet indicated those responsible.

In Memoriam: Jafar Siddiq Hamzah


even rumors that such would begin in their villages, ledthem to flee their homes.

That same month, the military and policelaunched the latest in a series of post-DOM operationsin Aceh. As the deaths and disappearances of humanrights activists began to increase (and as the bodies ofthe dead showed signs of torture), international NGOsincreased their calls for impartial investigations. Inmid-February, General Wiranto was removed fromhis new post as security minister for his alleged rolein military-sponsored human rights abuses in EastTimor.

April 17, 2000 marked the beginning of long-anticipated human rights trials of 24 soldiers and onecivilian for their roles in a July 1999 massacre in Aceh.The trials were conducted by a joint civil-militarycourt (to the dismay of many Acehnese and someinternational human rights groups). More than 1,000soldiers were sent to safeguard the proceedings be-cause of an increase in arson attacks and bombings inthe area. The eventual outcome was a guilty verdict forall 25 suspects and a sentence of eight to ten years inprison—a sentence regarded as too light by much ofAceh’s population.

Wahid announced in early May 2000 that hisgovernment and GAM’s leadership (based in Sweden)had reached an agreement on a “humanitarian pause”to the violence in Aceh. Agreement was reachedduring talks in Geneva facilitated by the Henri DunantFoundation. The pause, strongly opposed by theIndonesian military, was to commence on June 2 for aninitial period of three months and be regularly re-viewed for renewal.

The day before the pause was to take effect,more than 6,000 Acehnese reportedly fled their homesin North Aceh because of continued fighting. The nextday, the leader of a splinter GAM faction was shot atpoint blank range in a restaurant in the Malaysiancapital of Kuala Lumpur. GAM accused militaryintelligence agents of the murder, and the military castblame on GAM. In the second week of June, asprospects of a genuine cease-fire seemed grim, Wahiddismissed the governor of Aceh and replaced him witha senior minister viewed by many Acehnese as con-doning human rights abuses in the region.

The following months saw continuing sweep-ing operations in Aceh as well as ongoing clashescausing displacement and general unrest. The newgovernor said authorities had been unable to imple-ment the truce since they had not received the fundsearmarked for humanitarian assistance. Both Wahidand GAM leaders proposed an extension of the pause

to allow assistance to reach the internally displacedpersons.

Despite charges by Indonesia’s defense min-ister that the humanitarian pause is “too advanta-geous” to GAM, in late September the two sides signedan extension of the agreement through January 15,2001 (the pause formally lapsed from September 3 toOctober 15; however, the lapse made little differencebecause violence had continued and even intensifiedduring the pause).

November 2000 proved especially violent inAceh, as military and police clashed with hundreds ofthousands of Acehnese demonstrating at a two-daypro-referendum rally in the provincial capital. Outsidethe capital, as many as a million more were standed onroadsides or in camps as soldiers blocked their effortsto attend the rally. Although the official death toll wasin the 30s, several human rights groups said more than200 Acehnese had been killed within a one-weekperiod. Another 500 were reported missing.

As of December 2000, the situation in Acehremained at a violent stalemate, with both sides sayingthe humanitarian pause would not be extended pastJanuary 2001. A referendum on independence appearsunlikely, and most Acehnese say promises of greaterautonomy are meaningless. While many Acehnese donot support all of GAM’s tactics, and may even havereason to fear some elements of GAM, most appear tosupport the insurgency in general, given their commonenemy—the Indonesian military. GAM has also en-gendered support by re-building homes burned by themilitary and providing some level of security. Often,however, civilians are targeted for their real or per-ceived support for GAM, or they simply becomevictims of the cross-fire. As the violence continues,Acehnese continue to flee their homes.

The fluctuating level of displacement sinceJanuary 2000 is similar to that of 1999, when displace-ment ranged from a few hundred to more than 130,000.This fluctuation does not necessarily correspond withthe level of military activity and human rights abuse,which have been high at times when displacement wasminimal. Rather, displacement appears to be a func-tion of several factors, possibly including some ma-nipulation by GAM in an effort to draw internationalattention to Aceh’s political and humanitarian prob-lems. Several sources told USCR that the high level ofdisplacement in the summer of 1999 was due in part tosuch efforts; however, USCR was not able to indepen-dently verify this claim. In addition, despite burningpeople out of their homes, the military has alternatelytold Acehnese that they will be killed if they leave their


villages or if they do not return to them. Thedisplaced persons interviewed by USCR in Janu-ary 2000, all of whom were ethnic Acehnese, saidthey would return home when the military left theirvillages.

Many displaced Javanese in Aceh havesaid they fled because of intimidation from “un-known people,” according to local NGOs. TheIndonesian military has blamed GAM for thisintimidation, while GAM has denied the allega-tions and accused “military provocateurs.”

Conditions for the Displaced

The internally displaced are living in and aroundmosques, schools, and other buildings in Aceh, inconditions ranging from fair to inadequate.Acehnese student groups are providing logisticalsupport for many of the camps, including smallamounts of material assistance. Most assistance,however, comes from local businesses and occa-sionally from the public. The local governmentoccasionally distributes food, but very irregularly.To some extent, the lack of significant governmentassistance to the Acehnese may result from theAcehnese people’s stated refusal of such assis-tance. A small number of international NGOshave been operational in Aceh during the past year.

Most of the displaced Javanesetransmigrants are in a mosque compound in Cen-tral Aceh, not far from the capital, Banda Aceh. Asthe camp is near a military base, the student groupshave provided little assistance there for fear of thesoldiers.

In September 2000, Acehnese refugees inthe Pidie area (where fighting has been fierce)were reportedly short of food and suffering fromnumerous health problems. Student groups hadrequested assistance from the local community,but widespread poverty hindered such efforts.

As a result of increased violence, includ-ing attacks on their local staff, international NGOshave increasingly had to scale down or suspend theirwork in Aceh.

In late August 2000, three local staff of Oxfamwere seriously injured in an attack that also took thelives of two displaced persons. A police and militarypatrol had chased suspected GAM rebels into a dis-placed persons camp in West Aceh, where the conflictescalated. Police officers reportedly beat the Oxfamworkers after they failed to show identification docu-ments. As of late October 2000, Oxfam was reportedly

still in Aceh but was not providing assistance. MSFwas in a similar situation.

Detailed reports of violence, intimidation, tor-ture, and disappearances indicate that humanitarianworkers are in constant danger. While most reportscite abuse by Indonesian military and police, humani-tarian workers also say many GAM rebels do notrespect their work and sometimes harass or obstructthem.

◆ ◆ ◆

A displaced Acehnese girl waits with her family and others at agovernment compound before being relocated to a camp in BandaAceh. The displaced said they fled after the mobile police brigade(BRIMOB) terrorized their village.Photo credit: J. Koch/Jacqueline Koch Photography



As of early December 2000, as many as 3,000 inter-nally displaced persons were believed to be on theisland of Bali (the local government knew the exactlocation of only 37). Most of the 3,000—if not all—were ethnic Balinese who had transmigrated to EastTimor years earlier and fled there following the Au-gust 1999 referendum and ensuing violence.

An international NGO, however, said at leastsome of the displaced were from the nearby island ofLombok. Nearly a year earlier, at the time of theJanuary 2000 USCR site visit, Bali was hosting morethan 7,500 internally displaced persons from Lombok.Six months later, an Indonesian government officialtold USCR that the displaced from Lombok in Bali hadall returned home.

In July 2000, about 1,000 persons from Am-bon fled to Bali. Most were believed to be either nativeMoluccan or ethnic Chinese. It is unknown whetherany are still in Bali.

Displacement from Lombok

During the January site visit, USCR assessed thesituation of displaced persons from Lombok on Bali.Nearly all of the displaced were Christian, and a largepercentage were ethnic Chinese. Most were from theLombok capital of Mataram. They arrived in Bali soon

after January 17, 2000, when large-scale riots betweenMuslims and Christians began in Lombok.

The displaced were living in or around Bali’scapital, Denpassar. The others were scattered aroundBali. Although some lived with relatives or friends,most were sheltered in churches, seminaries, retreathouses, and other buildings.

The riot on Lombok began during a Muslimprayer meeting of about 5,000 people in support of theMuslims in Ambon. According to displaced personsand church workers, a few days prior to the gathering,a Muslim leader had sent a threatening letter to aChristian leader, indicating that violence might fol-low. The letter was reportedly provided to the militarybefore the gathering. At some point during the meet-ing, unidentified persons joined the gathering andincited anti-Christian sentiment, leading to a riot inwhich nine churches and more than 70 houses werereportedly set on fire. In the following days, thousandsof Lombok Christians fled the island. Many said theywere assisted by the Indonesian police and military,who provided temporary protection in police stationsand military headquarters, transported the displacedpersons to the ferry dock, and escorted them to Bali.Displaced persons said they believe the military andpolice were genuinely trying to protect them, ratherthan forcing them to leave.

All displaced persons interviewed by USCRsaid that, although they are Christian, they had livedpeacefully with the Muslims in Lombok until the recentevents. Most emphasized, often sorrowfully, that theyhad Muslim friends and that there had been no problemsuntil now. Many observers speculated that rogue mem-bers of the military, “political elites,” and other “provoca-teurs” incited the sectarian violence to undermineWahid’s government and demonstrate the necessity of astrong military. Others said the violence was simply“revenge” for similar occurrences in Ambon.

Local Catholic and Protestant churches pro-vided most of the assistance to the displaced. TheIndonesian government gave rice and provided se-curity for the displaced persons, while universitystudents and other volunteers performed varioustasks. The conditions observed by USCR appearedgood.

During the site visit to Jakarta in July 2000,Indonesia’s minister for housing and settlements toldUSCR that the displaced persons from Lombok had allreturned home. She stated, “Muslim leaders went toBali to fetch them back. It was beautiful.” Accordingto an international NGO, it was likely that somepersons from Lombok—perhaps even hundreds—hadremained on Bali.

IV. INTERNALLY DISPLACED PERSONSIN BALI


A Muslim woman and a Catholic nun break into tears during a peaceful demonstration in Jakarta inSeptember 1999. Scores of women activists demanded an end to violence throughout Indonesia.Photo credit: AFP

East Timorese on Bali

Beginning in early August 1999 (prior to the August30 East Timorese independence referendum), approxi-mately 1,500 East Timorese refugees fled to Bali.Most were ethnic Timorese Christians, and they wereassisted by the same church network that would laterassist the displaced from Lombok. Most of these EastTimorese were repatriated in October and Novemberof 1999.

At some point following the violence in EastTimor, a second group of East Timorese also arrivedon Bali. This group of nearly 3,000 were ethnic

Balinese Hindus who had transmigrated to East Timoryears earlier. UNHCR considered them internallydisplaced persons rather than refugees, as there was nodoubt of their Indonesian citizenship and they hadcontinued to avail themselves of Indonesia's protec-tion. The local government on Bali offered eachtransmigrant a small piece of land on Burung Island,off Sumatra, although many were displeased with theoffer. As of December 2000, 37 of the transmigrantsremained at a government-run transit camp on Bali.The rest had returned to their villages of origin withinBali or were in some stage of transmigration to Burungor elsewhere.



As of early December 2000, approximately 63,000persons were internally displaced in the province ofWest Kalimantan on the Indonesian part of the islandof Borneo, according to the World Food Program.

The vast majority of the displaced are ethnicMadurese from the coastal district of Sambas, whichhas experienced sporadic ethnic clashes since late1996. Most are in camps and collective centers in andaround the provincial capital of Pontianak. Othershave returned to their native Madura (an island off thecoast of East Java) or have been relocated to otherareas of the country.

The WFP figure is some 30,000 less than thatprovided by a local NGO in West Kalimantan, whichtold USCR that some 79,000 people were displaced inand around Pontianak as of mid-October, not includ-ing a large camp outside the city that holds some14,000 people.

Regardless of the total, both sources agree thatthe number of displaced persons in West Kalimantanhas increased by at least 20,000 since the time ofUSCR’s site visit in July 2000, because of the return toPontianak of displaced Madurese who had brieflyreturned to Madura. Finding conditions on Maduraunsuitable and enticed by the government’s offer ofrelocation at a new site, they have re-entered the campsand are awaiting such relocation.

The displaced in Pontianak city are housed inseveral “collective centers,” including a football sta-dium (holding more than 10,000 persons as of mid-October 2000), a Muslim pilgrimage center, a univer-sity stadium, a warehouse, and other large structures.Some are in hastily made huts outside of the mainbuildings. Others, as many as 20,000, have soughtshelter with family or friends in Pontianak. About twohours from Pontianak by road is the oldest camp,Singkawang, which now contains some of the newestarrivals. The camp was built near a military compoundto help ensure safety. A local Madurese man voluntar-ily provided the land on which the camp was built.

USCR visited two collective centers inPontianak as well as the camp at Singkawang and agovernment-initiated relocation area.


The displaced in West Kalimantan are overwhelm-ingly ethnic Madurese. The Madurese, who are pre-dominantly Muslim, come from the Indonesian islandof Madura, off the coast of East Java. In the 1960s,Suharto began moving many Madurese to WestKalimantan to alleviate overpopulation on Madura.Since then, at least eight conflicts have broken outbetween Madurese transmigrants and indigenousDayaks, and at least one between Madurese and ethnicChinese. In March 1999, ethnic Malays (who arepredominantly Muslim, like the Madurese) clashedwith the Madurese and enlisted the help of Dayaks(who are predominantly Christian). Together, theattackers burned homes and decapitated people.

As a result of the March 1999 violence, whichreportedly began with a drunken brawl between aMalay and a Madurese, at least 200 Madurese werekilled and some 35,000 others (35 percent of theMadurese population in West Kalimantan) becamedisplaced. The military originally sheltered many of thedisplaced in barracks in Sambas town, in the northernpart of Sambas District. A few weeks later, whentension spread to Sambas town, the military brought thedisplaced to Pontianak. Other Madurese arrived thereon their own. Still others fled to Java or elsewhere. Asmall group attempted to enter Malaysia, but Malaysiarefused entry and cooperated with Indonesian authori-ties in bringing the asylum seekers to Pontianak.

Some observers say that the transmigrationprogram gave the Madurese an economic advantageand, therefore, led the Dayaks and other ethnic groupsto blame the Madurese for the loss of jobs and triballand. Many Madurese say their cultural emphasis on

V. INTERNALLY DISPLACED MADURESE INWEST KALIMANTAN


hard work led them to advance economically and hasresulted in “social jealousy” on the part of other groups.Although the clashes reportedly began with argumentsbetween individual Madurese and Dayaks, some saythe military had provoked the clashes, using religion asthe apparent motive. Others say that since mostpolitical power rests with the Malays, their involve-ment in the recent violence may signal a political issue.

The Madurese told USCR that, during theattacks, the Dayaks reverted to their ancestral practiceof eating the organs of those they killed. A Dayakscholar told USCR that this had happened but not to theextent believed. He said there were complex reasonsfor this, including the fact that the Madurese are knownthroughout Indonesia as fierce fighters and that someMadurese had carried out particularly brutal killings,prompting a commensurate response by the Dayaks.

Several displaced persons told USCR thatwhile a military company is posted in Sambas, nosoldiers were present during the two-day clash inMarch 1999. Some said the commander of the unitpulled his troops out two days before the incident,returning to help evacuate the Madurese but not todefend them. USCR could not verify this.

Three months after the site visit, in late Octo-ber 2000, a traffic accident in Pontianak involving aMadurese and a Malay reignited violence between thetwo groups. Ethnic Malays armed with machetes,daggers, and homemade rifles reportedly killed at leasttwo Madurese in three days of violence. Reports saidthe violence left seven people dead, but they were notall believed to be Madurese. Attackers also torchedshops, buses, and property belonging to Madurese,and commercial activity in the city came to a virtualstandstill. The displaced persons camps were putunder police protection, and Indonesia sent reinforce-ments of the police mobile brigade to Pontianak to haltthe violence.


Overall conditions for displaced persons in and aroundPontianak are fair to good, with no reports of seriousmalnutrition or disease. However, the deputy gover-nor of the province told USCR that resources arebeginning to be strained and that the local communitywill not accept the displaced persons indefinitely. Heurged international assistance to decrease the burden,

These children are among more than 10,000 displaced ethnic Madurese living in a sports stadium inPontianak, West Kalimantan. Madurese transmigrants have been targeted by ethnic Malays andDayaks. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason


U.S. AID TO INDONESIA'S MILITARY

For decades, the United States was Indonesia’schief weapons supplier and trained countlessIndonesian soldiers. The close military rela-

tionship existed throughout the 32 years of Suharto’sauthoritarian rule, despite the fact that his regimeroutinely jailed, tortured, and killed its opponents.When Indonesia invaded East Timor in 1975, it did sowith tacit U.S. approval. According to State Depart-ment sources, ninety percent of the weapons used inthe invasion came from the United States.

After President Clinton took office in 1992,the climate both internationally and domesticallysupported a reduction of arms sales to Jakarta becauseof reported human rights violations by the Indonesianmilitary. In response to the 1992 “Dili Massacre” inEast Timor, the United States imposed a ban on smallarms, riot gear, and other technologies that could beimplicated in human rights abuses. Congress also cutfunds for training programs that benefitted Indonesia.The arms ban was expanded in 1995 to includehelicopter-mounted armaments and in 1996 to in-clude armored personnel carriers. Despite these con-cessions, Clinton’s first term saw military aid toIndonesia average around $35 million per year.

The United States also provided training toIndonesia under the Military Education and Training(IMET) program between 1950 and 1992. Under-taken as a joint project of the Defense Department, theState Department, and various military divisions, theprogram trained more than 7,300 Indonesian militarypersonnel. Although Congress discontinued the pro-gram in 1992 along with the ban on certain weapons,the Pentagon worked around the restrictions. U.S.special forces continued training their Indonesiancounterparts, including the elite and savageKopassus—the unit believed responsible for the mostegregious human rights violations.

In 1996 and 1997, human rights groups criti-cized the Clinton Administration for permitting thesale to Indonesia of larger weapons such as F-16fighters/bombers on the grounds that they would notbe used to commit human rights abuses. It was not,however, until the spring of 1998 that Congresslearned that the Pentagon had continued to secretlytrain Indonesian military forces. Outraged membersof Congress and some members of the internationalcommunity attacked the program. Consequently, inMay 1998, following the riots in Jakarta that led toSuharto’s ouster from power, the Defense Depart-

ment announced the suspension of the training exer-cises for the Indonesian military.

U.S. advisors were hopeful when Suharto’simmediate successor, B.J. Habibie, promised wide-spread reforms and agreed to a referendum on EastTimor’s future. However, immediately following thereferendum, Indonesian military-backed militias wenton a rampage in the territory, committing gross hu-man rights violations. In September 1999, Clintonsuspended all military-to-military ties (including train-ing), military transfers, and commercial weaponssales to Indonesia.

Even with Indonesia’s acceptance of a mul-tilateral peacekeeping force in East Timor and itsOctober 1999 ratification of the independence vote,mounting evidence of military complicity in the vio-lence prevented the United States from renewingmilitary ties. Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.) securedpassage of an amendment to the fiscal year 2000foreign aid bill that codified restrictions on U.S.military aid until Indonesia takes positive steps tobring to justice those responsible for the violence andto secure the safe return of refugees from neighboringWest Timor.

Early in 2000, the Pentagon quietly beganrenewing military ties that it deemed not banned bythe legislation.

In May 2000, the United States invited Indo-nesian military officers to observe a U.S.-sponsored“Cobra Gold” exercise in Thailand. That was fol-lowed in July by a joint U.S.-Indonesian naval exer-cise in East Java—known as Cooperation Afloat andReadiness Training or CARAT/2000—which includedhumanitarian operations. In August, U.S. officialsapproved the sale to Indonesia of spare parts for C-130 planes. Indonesia says the lack of such partshinders its ability to curtail violence within its bordersand may even prevent the delivery of humanitarianaid. Human rights groups dispute that contention andsay no form of aid to Indonesia’s military is warrantedat this time.

The United States abruptly halted phased re-engagement with the Indonesian military followingthe September 2000 deaths of three UN aid workers inWest Timor at the hands of pro-Indonesia militias.Given Indonesia’s continued inability to quell vio-lence in West Timor and elsewhere, Congress re-newed the “Leahy provisions” in the fiscal year 2001foreign aid bill enacted in November 2000.


particularly in order to find relocation areas for thedisplaced, in the absence of an ability to return them totheir homes. He noted that, despite efforts at reconcili-ation, clashes continue.

A variety of international NGOs are providingassistance to the displaced (including food and sanita-tion), as are PMI and ICRC. The local governmentprovides no assistance.

Displaced persons told USCR that, while theassistance is generally sufficient, the distribution issporadic, which makes rationing difficult. “We’renever told how long the money or the rice is supposedto last,” said one man. They said that only about fivepercent of the children are attending school.

Relocation

About 500 displaced Madurese families have beenrelocated to a settlement area some three hours fromPontianak by boat. The relocation project began in mid-1999. The area was selected because the majority of thelocal population is Madurese. The government builtsmall houses for the families who were previously incamps in Pontianak and volunteered for the relocation.

Although the houses at the relocation site areall officially occupied, in many cases the adult menhave returned to Pontianak to find work. The majorcomplaint of the displaced persons, and a concern ofNGOs, is that the land is not suitable for farming, evenfor growing rice. Recent droughts have intensified theproblem. The government re-portedly said it would install awater system, but the populationis relying on rainwater until itdoes. According to one of theleaders of the new settlement,representatives from the agri-culture department of a local uni-versity conducted an assessmentand said the land can be rectifiedfor agricultural purposes withintwo to three years if the govern-ment provides adequate funds.Residents of the site said corrup-tion is the main reason the landhas not been made productive.According to the residents, noUN agencies or internationalNGOs have yet provided assis-tance in the relocation area, al-though some have conducted as-sessments.

In October 2000, a Pontianak-based NGOsaid the site had yielded successful crops but was stillin need of longer-term agricultural assistance. Healthconditions, said the NGO, were also a problem.

The government also reportedly built resettle-ment communities for the Madurese on nearby islands.Some Indonesian officials had objected to the plan,saying that separating the ethnic groups would floutIndonesia’s motto of “unity in diversity.” Most of thedisplaced refused the resettlement offer, not wanting torisk losing their land and belongings at home in Sambas.

Return to Sambas or Madura

Displaced Madurese interviewed by USCR said theywant to return to Sambas, where they still have land,but would do so only if the government ensured theirsafety and compensated them for the loss of theirhouses and other property.

Thousands of Madurese also attempted toreturn to their native Madura, although most of theyounger generation was not born there, but were un-able to remain because of a lack of jobs and land. Mosthave reportedly returned to the camps. The minister ofhousing and settlements told USCR that the govern-ment had built 1,000 houses on Madura for returningdisplaced persons, although it was unclear how manyreturning Madurese occupied those homes.

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Government-built houses at a relocation site for displaced Madurese inWest Kalimantan. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason

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August 17, 1945Indonesian nationalist leader Sukarno proclaims the in-dependent Republic of Indonesia. Dutch colonists, how-ever, resist.

November 1949Indonesia and the Netherlands sign the Round TableConference Agreements, brokered by the United Na-tions. The Dutch recognize the Republic of Indonesiaas having de facto authority over the islands of Java,Madura, and Sumatra. The two governments will co-operate to form the “United States of Indonesia,” com-posed of the Republic, Borneo, and East Indonesia (in-cluding the Moluccas). Irian Jaya (West Papua) remainsunder Dutch control.

The Kingdom of Aceh (in Sumatra) is included in theagreements despite not having been formally incor-porated into the Dutch colonial possession. Subse-quently, Indonesia uses armed troops to quell Acehneseopposition.

December 27, 1949Power is officially handed over to a fully sovereignUnited States of Indonesia (later called once again theRepublic of Indonesia).

The establishment of the secular Indonesian state in-cites Islamic militant groups to initiate a fundamental-ist Islamic rebellion, known as Darul Islam (“House ofIslam”).

April 1950The Moluccan Islands declare their independence byforming the “Republik Maluku Selatan” (Republic ofSouth Moluccas) or RMS, consisting of Ambon andother islands. Three months later, Indonesian forcesinvade the Moluccas and eventually gain control ofAmbon city. RMS forces retreat. Later, RMS leadersestablish a government-in-exile in the Netherlands.

March 1960The elected parliament is dissolved and replaced by aparliament appointed by the president. The military andthe Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) are each givena significant portion of the seats. The concept ofDwifungsi (Dual Function) incorporates the military intosocio-political decision-making.

1962The Dutch hand control of Irian Jaya over to the UnitedNations on October 1, 1962.

Also in 1962, the Darul Islam rebellion is finally subdued.

1963Indonesia takes administrative control over Irian Jaya.The Free Papua Movement (Organisasi PapuaMerdeka, or OPM) is formed and becomes the nexusof the Papuan resistance.

September 30, 1965Six of Indonesia’s top generals are taken from theirhomes and executed in an attempted coup, possibly—but not certainly—organized by the PKI. The coup issoon thwarted by military loyalists headed by GeneralSuharto. Soon after, Suharto launches a counter coupand an anti-communist purge of Indonesia. An estimated300,000 to 400,000 people are killed during the purge.

1967Suharto now firmly in power, the parliament relievesSukarno from his duties and elects Suharto acting presi-dent. It elects him president in March 1968. UnderSuharto’s “New Order,” the military further expands intoaffairs of the state.

1969 Indonesia officially annexes Irian Jaya. At the heightof the "insurrection movement" in Irian Jaya (1967 to1972), there are 30,000 to 100,000 Papuan deaths.

December 1975Indonesia invades East Timor, ostensibly to “liberate”it from communist control.

July 17, 1976Despite armed resistance to its occupation by the threepolitical parties in East Timor, Indonesia formally an-nexes East Timor as its 27th province.

1976Acehnese separatists establish the Free Aceh Movement(GAM) as an armed resistance group.

1990The Indonesian government declares Aceh a militaryoperations zone (known as DOM) and launches acounter-insurgency campaign that leads to the deathsand disappearances of many civilians.

November 12, 1991In what becomes known as the Santa Cruz massacre,Indonesian troops fire on pro-democracy demonstratorsin the Santa Cruz cemetery in the East Timor capital ofDili, killing at least 100 people.

May 1998Amid riots in the capital and elsewhere, protesters call

An Indonesia Timeline


on Suharto to step down. Organized groups (securityforces or militia) open fire on students at Jakarta Univer-sity, killing six and wounding countless others. On May21, Suharto steps down from his 32-year presidency. VicePresident B.J. Habibie is sworn in as the new president.Habibie agrees to lift restrictions on political parties andhold open elections in 1999.

August 1998Mass graves are discovered in Aceh. Indonesia’s armedforces commander and defense chief, General Wiranto,apologizes to the people of Aceh for human rights abusesperpetrated by the military.

December 1998Violence erupts between Christians and Muslims in thetown of Poso in Central Sulawesi.

January 1999Habibie stuns even his own political and military advi-sors by announcing that he will allow East Timor to de-cide between autonomy within Indonesia and completeindependence.

Also in January, violence between Christians and Mus-lims erupts on Ambon Island in the province of Maluku.

March 1999Violence erupts in West Kalimantan (on the island ofBorneo) as Malays and Dayaks attack Maduresetransmigrants. At least 200 Madurese are killed and some35,000 others become displaced.

June 1999Indonesia holds its first free parliamentary elections in44 years. The ruling Golkar party loses seats, as the partyled by Megawati Sukarnoputri (Sukarno’s daughter) cap-tures nearly 40 percent of the votes.

August 30, 1999East Timorese overwhelmingly vote for independencefrom Indonesia. Leading up to and following the vote,Indonesian-backed militias go on a rampage, killing ci-vilians and destroying infrastructure. Some 400,000 per-sons become displaced within East Timor, while 260,000become refugees in West Timor.

The same month as the East Timor vote, violence erupts onthe island of Halmahera, in North Maluku, between nativesof the island and transmigrants from the island of Makian.The violence soon spreads to areas of North Maluku.

September 1999Habibie relents to an international peacekeeping force inEast Timor, known as INTERFET.

October 19, 1999Indonesia’s national assembly votes to confirm the re-sults of the East Timorese referendum.

October 20, 1999Indonesia’s parliament elects Abdurrahman Wahid, aMuslim cleric, as Indonesia’s president. Megawati iselected vice-president.

By the end of the month, Indonesia withdraws all mili-tary personnel from East Timor. The UN Security Coun-cil approves the mandate of the UN Transitional Author-ity in East Timor (UNTAET), which will replaceINTERFET in March 2000, as East Timor begins the slowprocess toward full independence.

December 1999Continuing riots between Christians and Muslims in theMoluccas leaves 100 dead.

January 2000Large-scale riots between Muslims and Christians oc-cur in the town of Mataram on the island of Lombok,near Bali, apparently in response to the sectarian clashesin Ambon.

May 2000The Indonesian government and Acehnese rebels sign anagreement for a “humanitarian pause.”

A third sectarian clash, the most serious to date, occursin Central Sulawesi. The violence leaves 98 people deadand about 4,000 homes burned or destroyed.

June-July 2000More than 114 people die in violence in North Maluku.Twenty people are killed in Ambon despite a state of emer-gency. Broadcast video shows men in government-issueuniforms fighting alongside Muslim sectarian fighters.

At a June 2000 congress in Jayapura, the West Papuancapital, more than 500 tribal leaders declare indepen-dence, name their homeland West Papua, and call forinternational recognition of their sovereignty. Wahidattempts a negotiation, but the talks break down andviolence soon erupts again.

August 2000Suharto is officially charged with corruption.

September 6, 2000Pro-Indonesia militias kill three UN relief workers inAtambua, West Timor. The next day, Indonesia allowsUN peacekeepers in East Timor to cross into West Timorto evacuate UN and NGO aid staff.

December 2000While more than 100,000 East Timorese refugees re-main in a precarious situation in West Timor, as manyas 900,000 Indonesians are displaced in other parts ofthe country.



Nearly 15,000 persons were displaced in the provinceof South Sulawesi as of December 2000, according toWFP figures. An unknown number were in andaround Ujung Pandang, the capital, also known by itshistorical name, Makassar. The majority of the dis-placed were from East Timor. Most others were fromCentral Sulawesi (primarily fleeing the conflicts inPoso), while some were from Ambon.

East Timorese

USCR visited a camp for East Timorese Muslims inMakassar. The camp held 130 people (33 families).(About 10 percent of East Timor’s population priorto the referendum was Muslim). The camp spokes-persons said they were pro-Indonesia and did notsupport the independence of East Timor. They saidthey and other East Timorese currently in Makassarhad been there since March and were the “sixthwave” to go there from West Timor, where theywent following the independence referendum andensuing violence. They said the previous groupshad been transmigrated by the government to Luwuk,in Central Sulawesi, and that they expected to betransmigrated as well.

The East Timorese said they have receivedsome money from the government but that it has beenvery irregular. Most food assistance, they said, iscontributed by businesses or local NGOs. Medicalcare is available at the local hospital. The displacedsaid that no UN agencies or international NGOs haveprovided assistance.

The East Timorese said they left West Timorbecause the camp conditions there were bad and noland was available. Most of those interviewed byUSCR said they want to stay in Indonesia rather thanreturn to an independent East Timor and are willing togo anywhere the government sends them. Some,however, said they may consider returning to EastTimor in a few years if it is stable and if their safety canbe guaranteed.

Because they have retained Indonesian citi-zenship and are availing themselves of Indonesia’sprotection by voluntarily participating in the transmi-gration program, the East Timorese in Makassar—likethose in Bali—are generally considered internallydisplaced persons rather than refugees.

In late October 2000, police in Makassarconducted a firearms sweep of a camp for displacedEast Timorese on the campus of the IndonesianMuslim University. The police, who arrested oneEast Timorese in the process, said they conductedthe operation in response to the United Nations’urging of Indonesia to disarm all East Timoresemilitias and civilians living in refugee camps. Inresponse, the displaced East Timorese went to thecity’s police headquarters, where they set up a newcamp and protested the police actions. A campleader said they had left the old camp for their safetyand to allow police to “check for themselves” allega-tions that camp residents were keeping automaticweapons there.

Ambonese

USCR interviewed two displaced persons from Am-bon in Makassar, both Muslim and both students whowere studying at the local university. Originallystudents in Ambon, they fled to Makassar with theirfamilies in 1999. They told USCR that most students,both Christian and Muslim, were unable to continuetheir studies in Ambon because of the violence. At thestudents’ prompting, the education minister in Jakartadirected all Indonesian universities to accept any stu-dent leaving Pattimura University in Ambon. How-ever, the students said no funds were made available tofacilitate this.

VI. INTERNALLY DISPLACED PERSONS INUJUNG PANDANG (MAKASSAR)


They said that about 400 students and theirfamilies had gone to Makassar. About 300 are Mus-lim, the rest Christian. Most are living with otherrelatives or, in many cases, the relatives of friends.The situation, they said, puts a great strain on the hostfamilies, especially because no assistance is pro-vided by the government.

The incident that triggered the initial vio-lence in Ambon occurred in January 1999. A Muslimbus driver (reportedly an ethnic Bugis) and anAmbonese Christian passenger had a disagreementover money. Each apparently went to his communityto enlist support, which led to large-scale religiousviolence. The students said the true motives for the

conflict were likely political, especially since earlierincidents on Java had reportedly sparked the conflict.They added, however, that local power strugglesmight play a role, along with tensions created bytransmigration.

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Photos above: These displaced pro-Indonesia EastTimorese left a camp in West Timor for betterconditions at a Muslim center in Ujung Pandang,South Sulawesi. They await relocation elsewhere.Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason



Nearly 73,000 persons were displaced in the provinceof Central Sulawesi as of December 2000. Most fledMuslim-Christian clashes in Poso (also in CentralSulawesi). Many of the displaced are in camps aroundPoso and the nearby town of Tentena. Others are inPalu, Donggala, and other Central Sulawesi towns.

Most of the displaced in Poso and Palu areMuslim. In Tentena, about an hour from Poso, most ofthe displaced are Christian. In both areas, however, afew camps house both Muslims and Christians, oftenmembers of the same family.

Because displaced persons from the Poso areahave also fled to North Sulawesi (primarily Manado),South Sulawesi, or other areas, it is likely that the totalnumber of displaced persons from Central Sulawesi ismuch larger.


Central Sulawesi, like elsewhere in Indonesia, is hometo significant numbers of Javanese transmigrants.

An NGO worker told USCR that transmigra-tion has caused conflicts over land ownership.

Transmigrants in the region, he said, each receive twohectares (about five acres) of land from the govern-ment but receive no certificates of land ownership;they are often later evicted and then move to coastalareas looking for jobs, which creates more tensionswith the local population.

In addition to these longstanding problems, a1998 conflict over the selection of a local official inPoso reportedly caused tensions between Christiansand Muslims. In December 1998, the term of the Posodistrict head, a Muslim, was ending. The majority ofthe local population was Christian and wanted a Chris-tian district head, which sparked disagreements be-tween the religious communities.

Another possible factor is business. Members ofthe Suharto family and other allies of the Suharto govern-ment own numerous businesses, including logging con-cessions and palm oil plantations, throughout Sulawesi.Some observers believe those owners are causing unrestto safeguard their properties from the economic and landreform efforts of the current government.

The violence in Poso began in December1998, with other significant events occurring in Apriland May 2000. The first incident reportedly involveda drunken brawl between two youths, one Christianand one Muslim. Each party to the fight enlisted thesupport of his friends. Large-scale violence, includingthe burning of homes, ensued. The authorities werereportedly slow to respond.

On May 23, 2000, a group of 12 “ninjas” fromthe Christian community entered a Muslim neighbor-hood looking for the people they held responsible forthe April riots, in which a disproportionate number ofChristian homes were burned. Three persons werekilled in the May attack, and two of the perpetratorswere caught. Several other attacks followed.

According to a report on the Poso crisis byInterNews Indonesia and the Alliance of IndependentJournalists, “The attacks were so well organized that ithas led to speculation that members of the armed forceswere involved, and the local military commander hasstated that he suspects that the group was trained byretired officers.” The May events left 98 people deadand about 4,000 homes burned or destroyed.

Most displaced persons interviewed by USCRin Palu, Poso, and Tentena, both Christian and Mus-lim, said they fled their homes because they heard thattheir villages were about to be attacked by the “red” or“white” group. In a few cases, they saw evidence of theattacks before they fled. One family said they andothers were captured by "the other side" while hidingin the woods. The captors held the group for two days

VII. INTERNALLY DISPLACEDPERSONS IN CENTRAL SULAWESI


in a high school building, and then delivered them to amilitary post. The military then took them to a dis-placed persons camp. Such stories of the militaryassisting with evacuations, but doing little to stop theviolence, were common.

NGOs told USCR that a few weeks before theDecember 1998 incident, a senior military officer wasquoted in the press as saying that Poso should beadministered by the military because there were al-ready signs of ethnic tensions and the local civilianauthorities were incapable of handling such problems.Soon after the first clash, the same officer reportedlysaid that the violence proved his argument.


The “camps” throughout Central Sulawesi includevarious structures—sports facilities, religious cen-ters, a cultural center comprised of small houses.Conditions were good in the five camps visited byUSCR. In Tentena, where most displaced personsare Christian, church organizations are largely re-sponsible for the assistance. According to churchleaders, there are nearly 35 camps for displacedpersons in the Tentena area, two of which have bothChristian and Muslim residents. Those camps—also referred to as “collective centers”— consist ofschools, a community center, and a cultural center.In addition, some private homes are hosting dis-placed families. In some camps in the town of Poso,including the local parliament house as well asmilitary and police facilities, the Indonesian gov-ernment provides most or all of the assistance.

According to local NGOs, as of late July2000, more than 16,000 displaced persons in the Paluarea (about 80 percent of whom were Muslim) werereceiving government assistance. Those in campsreceive food directly while others receive couponsfor rice. The government gives the assistance to the“Posko” (command post), while university studentsorganize the poskos to care for the displaced.

Local NGOs said the government gives somecash to the displaced, but not regularly. At least twointernational NGOs (Oxfam and CARE) are providingassistance, along with ICRC. Others have reportedlydone assessments. Medical care is available at localhospitals, with assistance from the Posko, and MER-C also provides care to some displaced persons. Ac-cording to one NGO, the local representatives of anational political party, the Justice Party, have pro-vided assistance to displaced Muslims.

Staff of both international and local NGOshave reportedly been harassed while attempting toassist the displaced. One NGO worker said a localgroup threatened to burn down a warehouse wherefood was to be stored.

In October 2000, press reports said 10,000displaced persons in Palu were “on the verge of starva-tion.” According to a local relief coordinator, ricestocks for the area were at a critical level and would lastonly another few days.This ethnic Javanese woman fled Muslim-

Christian violence in Poso, Central Sulawesi. Sheand hundreds of other transmigrants aresheltered in a sports stadium in Palu.Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason

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DWIFUNGSI: THE MILITARY'S ROLE IN CIVIL SOCIETY

Understanding the role of Indonesia's mili-tary (TNI) as a powerful force in thecountry's internal strife requires a brief

historical context.The Indonesian military has been implicated,

if not instrumental, in aggravating security con-cerns in many regions of the country. In Aceh, TNIactivities in the name of counterinsurgency havecaused large numbers of Acehnese to flee theirhomes in fear. In West Papua, TNI has been linkedwith pro-Jakarta militia groups, inciting distrustand fear among the indigenous population. Mili-tary ties with militia groups in East Timor led tomassive bloodshed following East Timor’s inde-pendence vote, and those ties have caused theharassment and intimidation of refugees and aidworkers in West Timor, including the deaths ofthree UN workers in September 2000.

During Indonesia’s post-independence pe-riod of 1945 to 1957, the new country, with itssystem of parliamentary democracy, was ill-equipped to run a sophisticated and truly demo-cratic government. The country lacked necessarycivil institutions, and the paternalistic traditionsand legal structure Indonesia inherited from itsDutch and Japanese rulers—coupled with a poor,illiterate, and politically uninformed population—undermined the efficacy of the government. None-theless, despite numerous political troubles, thisperiod was arguably the freest and most open inIndonesian history. It would be followed by twoauthoritarian regimes: Sukarno’s “Guided Democ-racy” (1957-1965) and Suharto’s “New Order”(1966-1998).

From the time of independence, the Indo-nesian armed forces (known as ABRI and now asTNI) had formally accepted the sovereignty of thecivil government. However, this formality belied acontinuing belief within the army—the most pow-erful military branch—that it was the guardian ofthe state. Army commanders believed that theirrole in the struggle for independence, and theirvested interests in the success of the burgeoningrepublic, gave the military special rights to influ-ence the socio-political matters of the country. Theresult was the formalization of the concept of

Dwifungsi, or “dual function,” of the military.The doctrine of Dwifungsi was first articu-

lated by army chief of staff General Abdul HarisNasution and later adopted by President Sukarno.Together, they advanced the idea that the militaryshould not just be an “instrument of the govern-ment” as it is in Western countries but, rather, alegitimate force within the political decision-mak-ing process.

In 1959, Sukarno dissolved the electedparliament and reinstalled the 1945 constitution(which provided for a powerful president and weaklegislature), setting into motion his concept of“guided democracy.” In doing so, he allowed theconcept of Dwifungsi to manifest itself within thenew government. This move represented a conver-gence of interests between Sukarno and the militaryleadership.

The 1958-1965 government under Sukarno,however, saw tremendous political, administrative,and economic troubles. The economy faltered and,with little infrastructure, the “guided democracy”experiment was on the verge of collapse. OnSeptember 30, 1965, at the height of this chaos,unknown froces (possibly communist) staged acoup and killed six senior generals. The attemptwas soon thwarted, however, by forces under thecommand of General Suharto. This ushered in the“New Order” government of Suharto in 1967 (for-mally proclaimed in 1968) following Sukarno’sousting from power. The transition was also aturning point in the military’s dual-function role,which was given a constitutional basis under theSuharto regime. The attempted coup, in effect,entrenched the military as a socio-political force inIndonesia. By preventing a potential communistusurpation of power, the military earned esteemand legitimacy within the Indonesian populace.

The early years of the Suharto regime sawthe expansion of military control over instrumentsof the state and the economy, along with the gradualreplacement of civilian personnel with members ofthe military. By the late 1970s, 78 percent ofdirectors general and 84 percent of ministerial sec-retaries were military appointees, along with halfthe cabinet and two-thirds of the governors. The


military’s dominance filtered down even to thedistrict levels, and its reach extended into businessthrough seizure of former Dutch companies andtheir transformation into state-owned enterprisesrun by military boards. Suharto awarded statecontract to the military, allowing it to exercisecontrol over profitable sectors of the economy andultimately bringing it into the inner circles of power.

The dual function system gave the armedforces considerableinfluence over politi-cal matters and gaveSuharto the electoralmajority to stay inpower during the fourelections he held. Thestrengthening of themilitary role in lieuof civilian institu-tions drew numerousproponents to the Su-harto regime.

A l t h o u g hthe Indonesian pub-lic generally acceptedthe authoritarian na-ture of the regime formost of Suharto’s 32years in power (inlight of significanteconomic growth andimprovements in liv-ing standards), by the 1990s people became increas-ingly disillusioned by the state’s oppressive tactics.Ironically, the development of Indonesia’s economyunder the New Order created a larger educatedprofessional class that called for more “openness”within society and government. In 1997, when theAsian financial crisis crippled the marketplaces ofthe region, Indonesia was hardest hit. PresidentSuharto was forced to resign in May 1998.

The new president, B.J. Habibie, made anumber of political changes during his short tenure.Among those, he decreed that all parties meeting thelegal requirements would be able to participate inparliamentary elections, with the gradual reductionof military representation in the legislative bodies.In addition, the military was to be confined to aneutral stance between political parties and would

no longer be elected or appointed to positionswithin the civilian government.

In October 1999, Abdurrahman Wahid waselected president and began consolidating civiliancontrol over the government. He dismissed Gen-eral Wiranto, the former defense minister and armedforces chief, after Wiranto was cited for humanrights infractions in East Timor. Wahid also spokeof abandoning the Dwifungsi doctrine.

Wahid’stalk, however,has not resultedin any realchange in therole of the mili-tary. In August2000, the na-tional assemblyadopted a decreeallowing thearmed forces toretain their 38seats in the leg-islative assem-bly until 2009.I n d o n e s ia ’ sprovinces, dis-tricts, and sub-districts stillhave consider-able militaryunits. The mili-

tary continues to be involved in the nation’s intel-ligence agencies and to exercise control over manylucrative business enterprises, which providessignificant space for political maneuvering. Per-haps even more significantly, nearly all ofWahid’s early attempts to put reformist-mindedmilitary personnel into positions of power havebeen reversed.

The military’s future role depends on anumber of factors, including the amount of trans-parency and accountability TNI demonstrates inthe country’s unfolding political climate and whethercivilian forces continue to tolerate the military’ssocio-political role. The latter may depend on theextent to which civilian and military actors canforge an alliance that serves to mute public andinternational dissatisfaction.

A protester grimaces in pain as an Indonesian soldier kickshim during clashes between soldiers and students inJakarta, September 1999. The students protestedlegislation giving the military expanded emergency powers.Photo credit: AP/B. Marquez



As of December 2000, there were more than 207,000internally displaced persons in the province of NorthMaluku, according to the World Food Program. Nearlyall are from the various islands of North Maluku,primarily Halmahera, the largest island. Some aretransmigrants from other areas, including Java, andothers are from Maluku Province, including Ambon.The displaced are both Muslims and Christians whohave fled religious violence similar to that in MalukuProvince and in Central Sulawesi. Many persons fromNorth Maluku have also fled to other areas of Indone-sia, with many Christians fleeing to Manado in NorthSulawesi.

The figure of displaced persons in NorthMaluku is distinct from the figure for Maluku Prov-ince, where more than 215,000 were displaced as ofDecember 2000. Displaced persons from Maluku(primarily Ambon) have likewise fled to various re-gions of Indonesia, including North Maluku andSulawesi. Many Muslims have fled to Buton Island offthe Southeast Sulawesi coast. Smaller numbers havefled to Sorong in West Papua and to East Timor. SomeJavanese transmigrants have returned to Java.

On the island of Ternate in North Maluku,there were 80,000 to 90,000 internally displacedpersons at the time of USCR’s visit. All of them are

Muslims from nearby islands, primarily Halmahera.Almost all of the Christians from Ternate—who for-merly comprised 15 percent of the population—haveleft the island, the exceptions being Chinese Chris-tians. Thus, the number of displaced persons onTernate now surpasses that of the local population.


The violence in North Maluku began in the town ofMalifut, on Halmahera, in August 1999. From there itspread to other areas of Halmahera and to nearbyislands, including Ternate. According to NGOs, theviolence was carried out through “strategic, plannedattacks.”

NGOs told USCR that transmigration ten-sions are a primary factor in the displacement. In 1975,following the eruption of the Kie Besi volcano onMakian Island (south of Ternate), the Indonesian gov-ernment transmigrated many of the local people tonorth Halmahera, primarily Malifut. The Makians areMuslims, whereas Malifut was generally a Christianarea. The transmigrants received land and other privi-leges, which led to resentment by the local population.After nearly 25 years of tension, in 1999, gold wasdiscovered in Malifut. An Australian gold miningcompany went to Malifut, and the transmigrants fromMakian obtained most of the mining jobs, whichfurther fueled the tensions. Soon thereafter, the Indo-nesian government divided the Malukus into two prov-inces— North Maluku and Maluku—which sparkedvarious battles for local political control. The Makiansand others in Halmahera were on opposites sides ofthese struggles, which led to attacks on the Makians,who fled to Ternate. Soon after their arrival in October1999, the Makians reportedly incited attacks on Chris-tians. The Christians fled to Manado and other largelyChristian areas of Indonesia.

The political and economic tensions in NorthMaluku also reignited centuries-old disputes stem-ming from when Ternate and a neighboring island,Tidore, were bitter rival sultanates. This aspect of theconflict was purely intra-religious, as both groups areMuslim.

According to the local government, anothertriggering cause of the violence was a pamphlet writ-ten by a Christian leader that included threats againstthe Muslim community. Some displaced Muslims toldUSCR the conflict was “planned from the beginningby the red group [the Christians] to chase the Muslimsfrom this area.” NGOs say there was provocation onboth sides, although—as is the case throughout Indo-

VIII. INTERNALLY DISPLACED PERSONS INNORTH MALUKU


nesia—many observers believe that political interestsare driving the religious conflict.

In addition to the local ethnic and politicaltensions, the problems in North Maluku cannot beseparated from the problems in Ambon. Many dis-placed persons told USCR that the Muslims andChristians in North Maluku lived in peace untilpeople from Ambon came and “stirred up trouble”or at least garnered sympathy that led to new vio-lence. Others say the story is not quite so simple butconcede that displaced Ambonese contributed to thetensions.

According to an international NGO worker,“in parts of Halmahera, everything was burned to theground.” He added, “The destruction was unbeliev-able. Yet, no one knew what was going on because ofthe publicity in East Timor.”

Several NGOs said the Indonesian military isdeeply involved in the conflict in North Maluku, somuch as to be “one of the root causes.” One NGOworker, however, added that the recent increased mili-tary presence in the area has “calmed things downquite a bit” and has allowed some displaced persons toreturn home. As he explained, “They’ve moved newtroops in here because no one trusted the old ones. Thenew troops do sweepings [searches] of boats, go tohouses collecting weapons, etc. The difference frombefore is like night and day. But it could change anyminute.”


Most displaced persons on Ternate are in privatehomes, usually those of family or friends. Some are inthe abandoned homes of Christians who fled the islandwhen the problems between the Muslim and Christiancommunities began. A Muslim woman fromHalmahera who is now occupying a Christian home onTernate told USCR, “They [the Christians] left in apeaceful way, not like us. We fled because our villagewas being attacked.”

Other displaced persons are in “collectivecenters” around Ternate—a warehouse, a universityauditorium, a disco, and other buildings. Conditionsthere are fair to good. Displaced persons said theamount of food is generally sufficient and basic healthcare is available. They are concerned about the lack ofcertain medicines, the inability to afford medical treat-ment for serious illnesses, and the lack of schooling formany children.

The Indonesian government has sporadicallyprovided some cash and non-food items. Some NGOs

are exploring the possibility of teaming displacedpersons with local residents and providing seeds andtools to help the teams cultivate land (including landthat currently belongs to the military).

The Indonesian government has given PMIthe authority to coordinate all international NGOsworking on Ternate. According to one NGO, thiscoordination system has “worked very well so far.”The NGOs meet with PMI regularly and involve PMIin all of their activities. PMI receives significantfunding from ICRC for these efforts.

According to ACF and World Vision, provid-ing assistance to the displaced has created some ten-sions with the local community, as is often the case inrelief efforts. Some members of the local popula-tion—who are struggling financially—have tried toregister for food distribution. WFP, which provides allof the food, will only permit the food to be distributedto displaced persons.

On the island of Bacan, five hours from Ter-nate by speedboat, USCR visited a camp where theconditions were bad. More than 3,500 displacedpersons (all Christian) were living under plastic sheet-ing on the dock of a pier owned by a fishing company(the area is called Panambuan). The displaced hadbeen at the site since January 2000, when fightingbegan on Bacan. NGOs and the U.S. embassy pres-sured the Indonesian government to relocate the camp,and the relocation occurred soon after the USCR visit.Some NGOs believe the relocation occurred primarilyfor economic reasons, as the fishing company wasanxious to re-open.

ACF, which provides food at two locations onBacan, is concerned with conditions at the site wherethe displaced persons from Panambuan were relo-cated. Known as Babang, the new site is near the footof a mountain, on what ACF believes to be a floodplain. The military counters that the area has neverflooded. The displaced are living in wooden barracksof untreated plywood (“a real fire trap,” said one NGOworker), with an estimated space of about ten squarefeet (one square meter) per person. About half of thebarracks had been built at the time USCR visited thesite. The military, which was overseeing Panambuanand the move to Babang, said there were no plans tobuild latrines because the displaced would “use theirtraditional method” of using the sea. Showers, how-ever, were being constructed.

Several UN offices and agencies have re-cently sent assessment teams to Maluku and NorthMaluku to analyze the assistance needs, monitor exist-ing programs, and plan longer-term efforts.


Prospects for the Future

The tensions in North Maluku, like elsewhere in Indo-nesia, have tended to spread through word-of-mouth,including by displaced persons who have relocated.For this reason, some NGOs are particularly wor-ried about Manado, in North Sulawesi, where manyChristians from Ternate have fled, including 200people who were severely injured in the fighting inHalmahera.

NGOs are also concerned by governmentplans to return displaced persons to Halmahera,particularly Malifut, without adequate considerationof the conditions needed to ensure successful rein-tegration. As one NGO worker explained, “Themilitary is planning to bring people home—and isbuilding barracks for that purpose—even thoughthe people there don’t want them back. The militarysays they’ll provide security, and I guess they justhope that someday there will be peace.” Under thisscenario, he added “Malifut could become the nexthot spot.”

Displaced persons on Ternate told USCR theywould like to go home as soon as possible but would doso only with adequate security. One said the militarywould need to be a “buffer zone” between Christiansand Muslims. A few said they would also needassurances that schools, mosques, and other institu-tions had been re-built, and one man told USCR hewould return only if all Christians from the twonearby Christian villages were removed. Severaldisplaced persons noted that if they remain on Ter-nate, they will have to continue receiving assistancebecause no jobs are available. Most said they arewilling to relocate and will go “wherever the gov-ernment tells us to go.”

When asked about reconciliation, displacedpersons said it will be needed in the future but is“almost impossible” now. As one woman said, “It’sstill very painful. Our family members were killed.There are lots of stories of people being burned alive.It’s hard to forgive and forget right now.” One NGOrepresentative told USCR that “reconciliation willprobably take five or six years, but it needs to happen.”

◆ ◆ ◆

More than 3,500 displaced persons lived under plastic sheeting on the dock of a fish processing plant,on the island of Bacan in North Maluku, for more than seven months. The camp was relocated soonafter USCR’s visit, but conditions at the new site are also troubling. Photo credit: J. Mason/USCR

◆ ◆ ◆


SEPARATISM IN INDONESIA

As Indonesia struggles with violence anddisplacement throughout the archipelago—some of it related to separatism—observ-

ers have noted the potential “Balkanization” of thecountry, especially in light East Timor’s 1999 inde-pendence from Indonesia. Although separatist sen-timent plays little or no role in some regions expe-riencing turmoil (such as West Kalimantan andCentral Sulawesi), it is a significant component inothers (particularly Aceh and West Papua). In stillother areas, such as the Malukus, the strength of theseparatist movement is sharply debated.

While most, if not all, of the separatistmovements in Indonesia predated the 1999 referen-dum in East Timor, the referendum did give hope tothose with similar aims in other regions. Suchregions share many characteristics, such as hostil-ity toward transmigration and a view that Jakartaunfairly drains resources from the provinces. Insome cases—such as Aceh, West Papua, andMaluku—they share with East Timor a history inwhich Indonesia’s right to sovereignty over theirregion is at least questionable. In many cases, theyshare an enemy, real or perceived—the Indonesianmilitary.

The history of East Timor is discussed inthe section on East Timorese refugees in WestTimor. Following is a brief overview of the othermajor separatist movements in Indonesia’s history.

Aceh

Islam first entered the Indonesian archipelago, andpossibly all of Southeast Asia, through Aceh some-time around the year 700. Much later, in thesixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the port ofAceh became entangled, along with the rest of whatis now Indonesia, in the European colonial powers’competition for worldwide political and economicdominance.

The profitable spice trade led the Dutch toestablish the Dutch East India Company (VOC) in1602. In nationalizing the VOC in 1799, the Dutchgovernment began to assert firm control over vari-ous Indonesian territories, ushering in the region’sDutch colonial era.

Through the 1824 signing of the LondonTreaty, the Dutch gained control of all British

possessions on the island of Sumatra, includingAceh at the island’s northern tip. In the same treaty,however, the Dutch agreed to allow independencefor Aceh. Nevertheless, in 1871, the British autho-rized the Dutch to invade Aceh, possibly to preventFrench annexation.

Thus, in 1873, the Netherlands invadedAceh. They found gaining control of the territorymore difficult than expected. The Aceh War lastedintermittently until 1942, shortly before the Japaneseinvaded Indonesia. In August 1945, just days after theJapanese surrender, the Republic of Indonesia pro-claimed its independence. The Dutch, however,still claimed control of the area.

The 1949 Round Table Conference Agree-ments provided for a transfer of sovereignty be-tween the territory of the Dutch East Indies and afully independent Indonesia. The Kingdom ofAceh was included in the agreements despite nothaving been formally incorporated into the Dutchcolonial possession. Subsequently, the Java-basedIndonesian government used armed troops to quellAcehnese opposition. Since then, the Acehnesehave continued to resent what they consider foreignoccupation.

The precursor to Aceh’s modern indepen-dence movement began in the 1950s when Indone-sia experienced the Darul Islam rebellion (see be-low). The Acehnese lent support to this rebellion,which took years to crush.

In 1976, the Free Aceh Movement (GAM)was founded as an armed resistance group. In thelate 1970s, Indonesian authorities effectively shutdown GAM's activities until 1989. That year,GAM (also known abroad as the Aceh-SumatraNational Liberation Front) vigorously renewed itsquest for independence.

In response, in 1990, the governmentlaunched a counter-insurgency campaign that ledto the deaths and disappearances of many civilians.A cease-fire agreement in 2000 did virtually noth-ing to quell Aceh’s violence.

South Moluccas

Islam came to Ambon and the neighboring islandsof the Moluccan group in the 15th century. By theearly 16th century, the Portuguese had moved intothe area and established a trading network as well


as Christian missions. The Dutch slowly gained astronger foothold in the region, ousting the Portu-guese and consolidating their power in the islandsby the mid-17th century. The Dutch also estab-lished a monopoly on the exports from the so-called“spice islands,” and the Moluccas became a vitallink to the Dutch trading chain along the East Indianarchipelago.

Between the 15th and 17th centuries, theDutch developed a close relationship with the Chris-tians from Ambon Island, in the southern Moluccas.The Ambonese played an important role in theRoyal Dutch Indian Army (KNIL), and ChristianAmbonese were particularly crucial to the“Marechaussee Corps,” a special military unitinvolved in the prolonged effort to conquer Aceh.(In later years, however, the Acehnese andAmbonese would find common ground in theirseparatist efforts).

The 18th and 19th centuries saw a markeddecline in the value of spices, and Dutch interestsshifted to the plantation economies of Java andSumatra. As a result, the Dutch used the ChristianAmbonese as proxy administrators, further strain-ing relations between the local Christian and Mus-lim communities.

By the beginning of the First World War, asense of national identity was rapidly emerging inthe region that is now Indonesia. Although none ofthe separate regions under Dutch colonial rule shareda unifying historical identity (and indeed the Dutchhad never attempted to unite them), these regionswere concerned with protecting local customs andthe rights of individuals. The Moluccas were noexception. The Dutch grew increasingly wary ofthis political agenda and looked to the ChristianAmbonese to help contain anti-colonial activity. Atthe same time, however, the Ambonese elite—bothChristian and Muslim—were forming their ownanti-colonial association.

In August 1945, after Japan's three-yearoccupation of the region, one of the nationalistleaders, Sukarno, proclaimed the independence ofthe Republic of Indonesia. The new republic was toinclude eight provinces, including Maluku. TheDutch, however, attempted to resume control.

In the Linggarjati Agreement of 1947, theDutch recognized Indonesia as having de factoauthority over Java, Madura, and Sumatra (theRepublic of Indonesia). The two governments

were to cooperate in forming the United States ofIndonesia (USI), composed of the Republic,Borneo, and East Indonesia (including theMoluccas).

The Netherlands unilaterally abrogated theLinggarjati Agreement in July 1947 and launched anew military campaign.

In December 1949, under the Round TableConference Agreements, the Dutch East Indiesceased to exist and the Republic of the United Statesof Indonesia was formed (the Dutch, however,retained control of Irian Jaya). The Agreementsallowed the various geographic components to be apart of the new Indonesian state, by ratifying itsconstitution, or to opt out by negotiating a “specialrelationship” with the Republic of Indonesia andthe Netherlands. Political leaders in the SouthMoluccas indicated their intent not to be part of thenew state.

In 1950, however, Sukarno established In-donesia as a unitary state (once again named theRepublic of Indonesia), which included easternIndonesia. In April 1950, the South Moluccasdeclared their independence by forming the Repub-lic of South Moluccas or RMS. Three months later,Indonesian forces invaded the Moluccan Islandsand eventually gained control of Ambon city. RMSleaders retreated.

In 1951, the Dutch government broughtsome 12,000 Moluccans—former KNIL army mem-bers and their families—to the Netherlands. Thenew Indonesian government had refused to allowthe Moluccan KNIL members to return to EastIndonesia. In 1963, RMS members established agovernment-in-exile in the Netherlands.

Virtually ignored for years, RMS supportershave reasserted their claims for an independentsouth Moluccas since Suharto’s ouster and particu-larly since the independence of East Timor. Chris-tian Ambonese have felt threatened by the loss ofpower, and many Ambonese—both Christians andMuslims—maintain that newcomers (predomi-nantly Javanese) have disrupted centuries of peace-ful coexistence between the two groups.

West Papua (Irian Jaya)

The Indonesian province of West Papua (also knownas Irian Jaya) comprises the western half of theisland of New Guinea, with the other half being the


country of Papua New Guinea. Papuans are aMelanesian people, like many Moluccans and un-like the Javanese who are predominantly of theMalay ethnicity. Papuans are also predominantlyChristian. Having had less contact with the West-ern world than most other regions of Indonesia, thePapuans also have a markedly distinct culture.

During the twelve years of Dutch colo-nial rule of West Papua following Indonesia’sindependence (1950 to 1962), the Dutch estab-lished policies to prepare the region for self-governance. However, in 1962 the Dutch handedover control of the territory to the United Na-tions. The next year, Indonesia took administra-tive control of Irian Jaya.

The same year, the Free Papua Movement(Organisasi Papua Merdeka or OPM) became thenexus of the Papuan resistance. In 1969, Indonesiaofficially annexed Irian Jaya. The action causedwidespread violence and unrest, with independenceleaders and other observers saying the vote wasflawed and unrepresentative. The separatist move-ment continued. Indonesia deployed approximately60,000 soldiers to Irian Jaya at the height of the“insurrection movement” from 1967 to 1972, re-sulting in 30,000 to 100,000 Papuan deaths.

In the 1970s, violence in the territory sig-nificantly waned as the Indonesian army began toestablish stronger control. The OPM, however,still conducted an insurrection from bases in theperipheral areas of the province. The armed resis-tance continued through the 1980s and has becomea significant issue in Indonesian-Papua New Guinearelations, as Papua New Guinea has hosted manyrefugees from Irian Jaya. Indonesian soldiers havecrossed the Papua New Guinea border in pursuit ofOPM rebels.

The 1980s saw the expansion of Indonesia’stransmigration policies, which led to even widerunrest between the newly settled Javanese migrantsand the more than one million Papuans. In additionto an underdeveloped infrastructure and inhospi-table environment for the transmigrants—along withthe ongoing insurgency—the policy suffered from aneglect of the indigenous peoples’ concerns. NativePapuans believe Indonesia has focused too much onintegrating the territory’s oil and mineral resourcesinto the state economy, resulting in communal ten-sions over land. Of particular controversy is the roleof the U.S.-based company Freeport McMoRan.

Freeport’s massive gold and copper mine in WestPapua, one of the world’s largest, is responsible forapproximately one-third of Jakarta’s income. WestPapua reportedly receives less than one percent ofthe taxes paid by the multinational giant.

By the late 1990s, the mood in Irian Jayabecame more open, with a willingness in Jakarta todiscuss local grievances and consider wide-rang-ing autonomy for the region. However, the lack ofconcrete actions, ongoing claims of human rightsabuses by the military, and the East Timoreseindependence referendum reignited the separatistmovement.

At a June 2000 Congress in Jayapura, theprovincial capital, more than 500 tribal leadersdeclared independence, named their homeland WestPapua (a name that Indonesian president Wahidhad earlier said he would use), and called forinternational recognition of their sovereignty. Na-tional political leaders increased their pressure onWahid to crush the movement. Wahid instead at-tempted a peaceful negotiation, but the talks brokedown and violence again erupted in the fall of 2000.

The Darul Islam Rebellion

In 1950, the establishment of the secular Indone-sian state (then the United States of Indonesia)incited Islamic militant groups to initiate a funda-mentalist Islamic rebellion, dubbed Darul Islam(“House of Islam”). These militant groups hadbeen functional since the Japanese occupation andthe later Dutch re-consolidation of power. TheDarul Islam movement became the longest sus-tained rebellion in Indonesian history. Lasting fornearly 13 years, from the late 1940s to early 1960s,it was most active from 1957 to 1962 in West Java.The insurgency gained followers in Aceh, SouthSulawesi and elsewhere, who believed that thesecular government had inflicted a wrong againstMuslims by rejecting Islam as the sole foundationof the state.

While Darul Islam was never a significantthreat to the central government, it tied up armyunits for much of the 1950s. In addition, its influ-ence was never fully subdued. Muslim aspirationsto establish an Islamic state in Indonesia still exist,and sporadic riots under the banner of Darul Islamsurfaced throughout the 1990s and into 2000.



As of December 2000, most sources estimated that95,000 to 125,000 East Timorese refugees remained inthe Indonesian territory of West Timor (UNHCR usesthe 125,000 figure). Jose Ramos Horta, the Nobelpeace laureate who is now foreign minister in EastTimor’s transitional government, said in November2000 that he believed the number of East Timoreserefugees still in West Timor was only 60,000. It isunclear whether Horta’s estimate included ethnicJavanese and others who were originally transmigrantsto East Timor. Because of ongoing difficulties ingaining access to the camps, the actual number hasbeen difficult to determine since the majority of refu-gees first entered West Timor in September 1999. Thesuspension of nearly all humanitarian assistance a yearlater, following the September 2000 killing of threeUNHCR workers, has done nothing to clarify eitherthe numbers or the characteristics of the refugees.

The refugees are concentrated in three mainareas: Kupang (the capital of West Timor, near thewestern tip of the island), Kefamananu (in the centralpart, outside of the East Timorese enclave of Oecussi),and Belu District, particularly Atambua (near theborder with East Timor). An unknown number of EastTimorese refugees are in other areas of Indonesia.

In addition to the East Timorese, West Timor

has hosted other groups of displaced persons, includ-ing those from Maluku. In July 2000, some 1,500Ambonese arrived in Kupang via ferry. The Interna-tional Organization for Migration (IOM) providedtransportation to hastily established shelters on thegrounds of the Christian University of Kupang and aChristian community center, where the displaced re-ceived assistance from NGOs.

Background to the Refugee Crisis

For more than 450 years—from 1524 to 1975—EastTimor was, with minor interruptions, a Portuguesecolony. Located on the western half of the island ofTimor, across the Timor Sea from Australia, the terri-tory is roughly the size of New Jersey.

The East Timorese waged sporadic insurrec-tions against the Portuguese colonists until the early1900s. The Portuguese government that came topower in a 1974 coup supported the right of self-determination for its colonies, and Lisbon sent a newgovernor to East Timor to oversee its decolonization.As a result, rival political groups emerged in thecolony. The group known as Fretilin favored immedi-ate recognition of East Timor’s right to independence,with implementation in three to ten years. The TimoreseDemocratic Union (UDT) favored a gradual transitionto independence and rejected integration with anyforeign country. The third group, Apodeti, repre-sented a small minority of the population favoringintegration with Indonesia.

Indonesia had broken from its colonists, theDutch, in 1945. At that time, West Timor became partof the Republic of Indonesia, leaving Jakarta with anatural interest in the eastern half of the island.

In August 1975, UDT staged a coup againstthe Portuguese administration in the East Timorcapital of Dili. The goal was to expel all communistelements from East Timor, including the leftistelements of Fretilin and the colonial establishment.In the process, UDT arrested Fretilin supporters, thusprompting a civil war that lasted several weeks andclaimed 23,000 to 30,000 lives. In the melee, Portugalwithdrew from the territory. In doing so, they left EastTimor without a working infrastructure and little in-vestment in health facilities, schools, roads, and thelike.

Fretilin, which gained control of the territory,declared independence and established a de factoadministration. UDT forces withdrew into West Timor.Indonesia, which by now had begun incursions intoEast Timor, allowed the border crossing on condition

IX. EAST TIMORESE REFUGEES IN WESTTIMOR


that UDT sign a request for integration with Indonesia.Soon after, in early December 1975, Indonesian radioannounced that UDT and Apodeti leaders had askedIndonesia to liberate East Timor from Fretilin’s con-trol. Several days later, Indonesian troops invadedDili, beginning a bloody period that included massexecutions. Tens of thousands of people were killed ina two-month period that Indonesia claimed was thecontinuation of the civil war.

The invasion was accomplished with the tacitsupport of the United States and other Western nationsthat feared establishment of a communist state in themiddle of the archipelago. On July 17, 1976, despitearmed resistance to its occupation by all three politicalgroups, Indonesia formally annexed East Timor, de-claring it the nation’s twenty-seventh province. Indoing so, President Suharto relied on the “free choice”of a puppet assembly that requested integration.

Following the annexation, Indonesia beganpursuing its national policy of transmigration in EastTimor. Because of transmigration, East Timor be-came home to more than 2,500 Indonesian familiesfrom other regions.

East Timor, because of its Portuguese colonialhistory, is overwhelmingly Roman Catholic, unlikeprimarily Muslim Indonesia. Religion, however, isonly one element in the troubles.

Human rights organizations say that up to200,000 people may have been killed by Indonesianforces or died of hunger in the two decades followingthe annexation. During that time, pro-independenceguerrillas, known as Falintil, continued to fight theIndonesian armed forces. Falintil was the armed wingof the National Council of Timorese Resistance(CNRT).

In 1991, in what became known as the SantaCruz massacre, Indonesian troops fired on pro-democ-racy demonstrators in Dili’s Santa Cruz cemetery,killing at least 100 people. The next year, Indonesiaarrested CNRT president Xanana Gusmao and gavehim a life sentence that was later commuted to 20years. In 1996, two East Timorese human rightsactivists, Jose Ramos-Horta and Bishop Carlos Belo,were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Drawing from international law, particularlythe UN Charter, the United Nations never recognizedIndonesia’s sovereignty over East Timor. The UNinstead considered East Timor a non-self-governingterritory under the continued administration of Portu-gal. Successive UN resolutions denounced the inva-sion and called for self-determination of the EastTimorese people. Individually, virtually all countries

took a similar stance, although many—including theUnited States—acknowledged Indonesia’s de factocontrol over the territory of East Timor. Australia,influenced by growing economic ties to Indonesia,came closer than any other country to recognizingEast Timor’s integration into Indonesia.

In August 1998, representatives from Portu-gal, Indonesia, and the United Nations sat down for around of talks during which Indonesia proposed grant-ing “wide-ranging autonomy” to East Timor. Al-though the agreement fell short of the referendum onindependence sought by some East Timorese, somepro-independence activists said it was a good first step.Further talks were scheduled for 1999.

Events of 1999

In January 1999, President Habibie stunned his ownmilitary and political advisors, as well as the interna-tional community, by announcing he would considergranting independence to East Timor. He said theterritory would first be given the option of havingautonomy within Indonesia. If East Timor rejectedautonomy, the province would become independent.

A referendum on autonomy was subsequentlyscheduled for August 8, 1999. It soon became clear,however, that independence would not come easily.

The prospect of an independent East Timordid not set well with the Indonesian military, whoregarded East Timor as having cost them many livesand much money. In addition, given recent events inAceh and other regions, the fear of setting a precedentfor other separatist movements was strong.

In early April 1999, violence began to engulfEast Timor. Anti-independence militia, backed by theIndonesian army, used violence and intimidation aspart of a campaign to influence the outcome of thereferendum. Militia members attempted to force peopleto join them or be killed.

On May 5, Portugal and Indonesia signed anagreement entrusting the United Nations with theorganization and conduct of the referendum. Habibieannounced that he had agreed to a UN “civilian policeforce” supervising the vote.

The spread of violence eventually led the UNto delay the referendum until August 30. Among themany concerns was the need to allow displaced EastTimorese to register to vote.

In mid-August, political campaigning for theballot formally began. By then, however, the violencehad forced an estimated 40,000 to 85,000 East Timoresefrom their homes. Many of the territory’s educated


elite—primarily Javanese transmigrants—had alreadyleft. Hunger and disease were reportedly prevalentamong the displaced, some of whom had fled to WestTimor, where they came under direct control of theparamilitary forces. UN and humanitarian officialswere also militia targets. Human rights groups andothers urged the Indonesian government to disbandand disarm the militia and to establish a secure envi-ronment for the displaced.

Defying the intimidation, nearly 99 percent ofEast Timorese turned out for the August 30 vote. Morethan 78 percent voted to reject autonomy, thus favor-ing independence. Immediately following the an-nouncement of the ballot results, the militia began arampage throughout East Timor, destroying entirevillages and decimating city centers, including that of

Dili. Although Indonesia pledged that its troops wouldrestore order, Indonesian soldiers began openly join-ing a violent campaign to force thousands of EastTimorese from the territory. They rounded up EastTimorese, loaded them on trucks, and took them toWest Timor—most likely to maintain control over thepopulation. They placed the refugees in “camps”—often schools, sports stadiums, or other structures.Unlike refugee camps run by UNHCR or aid agencies,these camps were controlled by the militia and Indone-sian military or police. The refugees, while fearingreturn to East Timor, were also in effect hostages.Other refugees who crossed into West Timor on theirown were also terrorized by the militia.

On September 7, Indonesia placed East Timorunder martial law and, for reasons that remain clouded,

freed Gusmao. The next day, the UN an-nounced a total pullout from East Timor.The evacuation from the UN headquarters inDili, however, was delayed by the presenceof more than 1,500 displaced East Timoresetaking shelter at the compound. Refusing toleave the displaced in the hands of the militia,the UN staff finally left in the early hours ofSeptember 14, taking the 1,500 persons withthem to Darwin, Australia.

On September 9, the United Statessuspended military cooperation with Indo-nesia. Three days later, after nearly twoweeks of deadly violence, Habibie agreed toallow an Australian-led international peace-keeping force (INTERFET) to restore order.On September 14, the UN Security Counciladopted a resolution authorizing the multi-national force.

Without naming Indonesia, the UNresolution condemned all acts of violence inEast Timor and demanded that those re-sponsible be brought to justice. Habibieagreed to begin withdrawing Indonesiantroops from East Timor, although a fewthousand would be left to work with theforeign peacekeepers.

The first of the multinational troopsarrived in East Timor on September 20. Theybegan a slow, methodical operation to re-claim the area taken by the militia. Even asINTERFET attempted to restore order, wide-spread displacement continued inside EastTimor, and more than 250,000 refugees re-mained in West Timor.

Evidence soon began to emerge that

A displaced East Timorese man and his daughter in one ofthe numerous small camps in Atambua, West Timor, nearthe East Timor border. Photo credit: USCR/J. Mason


militia were actively recruiting from refugee camps inWest Timor as well as orchestrating revenge killingsnot only in Timor but in Java, Bali, Sumatra, and otherislands where known independence supporters hadtaken refuge.

Another concern regarding the refugees wasthe possibility that Indonesia would forcibly transmi-grate them. In October 1999, Indonesia’s then-trans-migration minister said all refugees in West Timorwould be moved to other areas of Indonesia within twomonths. To facilitate this plan, the Indonesian govern-ment began registering the refugees in West Timor toidentify their “preferences.” UNHCR issued a pressstatement expressing deep concern about the registra-tion, noting that it was occurring without internationalinvolvement and could expose pro-independence refu-gees to further threat from the militia. Indonesiaeventually halted the registration.

Beginning on October 19, thousands of refu-gees—at the rate of about 500 an hour—began stream-ing over the border from West Timor back into EastTimor. An estimated 17,000 returned that first day.IOM—which coordinated the effort with UNHCR—had already repatriated nearly 3,000 persons by air andwas planning boat returns. INTERFET forces screenedreturnees to prevent the re-entry of militia members.

Also on October 19—the day beforeIndonesia’s national assembly elected Wahid as thecountry’s new president—the assembly voted to con-firm the results of the East Timorese referendum. Bythe end of the month, Indonesia had withdrawn allmilitary personnel from East Timor. The UN SecurityCouncil approved the mandate of the UN TransitionalAuthority in East Timor (UNTAET), which wouldreplace INTERFET in March 2000, and East Timorbegan the slow process toward full independence.However, the refugees remaining in West Timor werein a tenuous situation.

Conditions for the Refugees

As of December 2000, the East Timorese refugees inWest Timor remain extremely vulnerable. Militiamembers continue to terrorize them, and most interna-tional aid agencies have suspended their operationsfollowing the deaths on September 6, 2000 of threeUNHCR workers at the hands of militia members.This situation was not unforeseen in the early stage ofthe refugee crisis.

In its first weeks of operation in West Timor,UNHCR had great difficult obtaining access to therefugee camps. When the Indonesian government

began to help UNHCR gain access, it occurred slowly,camp by camp. Militia leaders, who openly roamedthe camps, were hostile to UNHCR’s efforts to educatethe refugees about conditions in East Timor and to helpthem return. In some cases, militia members violentlyattacked UNHCR staff. UNHCR was forced to con-duct what it called “snatch and run” operations to getrefugees out of the camps before the militia memberscould act.

At the time of the USCR site visit to WestTimor in January 2000, the climate in the camps wastense. Some international aid agencies said the militiamembers’ power was diminishing, but there were stillreports of intimidation and violence against the refu-gees and aid workers.

The refugees are comprised of several groups.Approximately 14,000 Indonesian civil servants andtheir families (a total of about 70,000 persons) wereamong the East Timorese who entered West Timorfollowing the referendum, along with 24,000 mem-bers and families of the Indonesian armed forces(TNI). Of the 14,000 civil servants, about 6,000 soonchose to relocate to other parts of Indonesia, leavingabout 8,000 in West Timor. While some of thoseremaining may wish to return home, their decision iscomplicated by the fact that they can only remainIndonesian civil servants and continue drawing theirsalaries or pensions if they remain in West Timor. Forthose who choose to stay, the Indonesian governmentis exploring ways to integrate them into the local civilservice.

Of the 24,000 TNI members and families,about 14,000 are expected to be kept on active duty,either in West Timor or other areas of Indonesia. TheIndonesian government has discussed vocational train-ing for others (particularly those within a few years ofretiring) who will likely stay in West Timor. Stillothers are expected to resign and repatriate to EastTimor if they believe it is safe to do so.

The remaining East Timorese in West Timorinclude at least three groups whose numbers remainuncertain: anti-independence militia members (orformer militia members); East Timorese who sup-ported autonomy over independence; and pro-inde-pendence East Timorese—the group essentially “heldhostage” by the militia.

The refugee camps in West Timor vary bysize and conditions. Although the three majorKupang-area camps are large (holding as many as9,000 in one camp), many others are small, village-like settlements of only a few families. In BeluDistrict, refugees are in more than 200 sites. While


some camps are converted buildings, others consistof straw huts or tents with plastic sheeting. Anunknown number of refugees live in the homes offamily members or friends.

At the time of the USCR visit in January 2000,several international agencies and NGOs were helpingthe refugees. Sources told USCR that assistance wasdisorganized. Agencies, they said, often ventured intoother areas of assistance, with differing standards andlittle coordination. As one observer noted, “Almostevery NGO is doing everything.” Duplication ofservices in some camps, and gaps elsewhere, were alsomentioned. Although OCHA was nominally respon-sible for some coordination and UNHCR was the defacto lead agency, there was a general feeling that noone was in charge.

Several sources said that, despite the largenumbers of agencies operating in West Timor, theirstaff often lacked the necessary experience and exper-tise—unlike those sent to East Timor. Agencies alsoreported insufficient funds, equipment, and supportfrom their central offices. More than one source saidthe international community is pouring assistance andpersonnel into East Timor while treating West Timoras a “side show.”

Perhaps due in part to that disparity, condi-tions in West Timor have continued to deteriorate. InFebruary 2000, UNHCR and IOM workers were heldat gunpoint by Indonesian police while escorting refu-gees back to East Timor. Border skirmishes alsoerupted as militia members crossed into East Timor.

In May, in a move praised by the UN, theIndonesian government announced that it would reas-sign West Timor-based soldiers in an attempt to reducethe militia violence. However, the efforts proved tohave little effect. Likewise, the announcement bymilitia leader Eurico Guterres that the refugees were“free to go home” was viewed skeptically by theinternational community and had no visible effect.

In June and July 2000, UNHCR twice sus-pended (and later resumed) operations in Kupangcamps because of increased violence. In late July, aUN peacekeeper from New Zealand was killed in EastTimor by armed militiamen who had reportedly crossedthe border from West Timor. He was the first UNpeacekeeper to be killed in the territory. Indonesiaonce again announced plans to disarm the militia andclose the camps by repatriating or locally settling allrefugees.

UNHCR suspended operations in West Timorin late August 2000, after a violent attack against threestaff who were distributing plastic sheeting to refu-

gees. It resumed activities six days later afterIndonesian authorities arrested two of the allegedassailants and agreed to increase security for hu-manitarian workers.

The resumption was short lived. On Septem-ber 6, thousands of rioters led by pro-Indonesianmilitia members stormed the UNHCR office inAtambua and killed three UNHCR staff. Within thenext two days, after obtaining permission from theIndonesian government, UN peacekeepers based inEast Timor entered West Timor and evacuated allforeign and most local aid workers. At the time of thekillings, more than 120 incidents of harassment andviolence against aid worker and refugees had beenrecorded since UNHCR established a presence inWest Timor a year earlier.

On September 15, 2000, Indonesia and the UNsigned an agreement to work together to resolve thefate of the remaining refugees in West Timor. Amongother things, Indonesia proposed moving refugees toWetar, an island north of East Timor. The UnitedStates and other countries continued to press Indonesiato disarm the militia. In response, Indonesia called fora four-day operation from September 22 to 26 to seizefirearms and other weapons from the militia. Theoperation was a complete failure.

The following month, Indonesia took severalsteps toward pacifying the international community,including arresting Eurico Guterres (for the secondtime) and approving a visit to West Timor by a delega-tion of the UN Security Council.

Sadako Ogata, the UN High Commissionerfor Refugees, said in mid-October 2000 that the situ-ation in West Timor was still too dangerous andunstable for the refugee agency to return. She said shewas not satisfied with the Indonesian government’sefforts to crack down on the militia. In early Novem-ber, one international NGO, Church World Service,reopened its program in West Timor, noting that no aidhad reached the camps for nearly a month and thatconditions were likely desperate. The agency said thereopening was largely possible because its staff wereIndonesian and Timorese. On November 21, theUN Security Council mission that visited WestTimor recommended that UN security experts besent there to determine whether it is safe for UNstaff to return.

The vast majority of the refugees remain in aprecarious situation in West Timor. They have begunto run out of food, as the food distribution system washalted by the withdrawal of the aid agencies. TheIndonesian government is reportedly doing some food


distribution, but it is sporadic. In many camps, particu-larly those with the worst conditions, the rainy season(which began in November) has exacerbated the diffi-culties and increased illness. Hundreds of refugeeshave died from malaria, respiratory problems, andnatural disasters, including flooding.

In late November 2000, Indonesian govern-ment sources said they were still prepared to resettleEast Timorese refugees—along with domestictransmigrants—at two sites on the island of Wetar. Anofficial was quoted as saying, “It is true that some ofthe local people have rejected the idea, but if wepromote the program properly, in time they will beable to accept it.”

In numerous areas of Indonesia not visited by USCRduring its January and July 2000 site visits, displacedpersons are a part of the landscape. Like those in Aceh,North Maluku, and elsewhere, they are crowding intostadiums, huddling under tents, or living out of sight inprivate homes. The most desperate among them arehiding in the mountains and jungles.

In Java, there are no camps. Most of theestimated 20,000 displaced persons there (primarily inEast Java) are Javanese transmigrants returning fromother islands, and most are living with family andfriends. (The number for Java had been 30,000 higherin previous months, before ethnic Madurese beganreturning from Madura to West Kalimantan). Others,such as East Timorese and Ambonese, are being housedthrough the local Catholic diocese.

In North Sumatra, an estimated 24,000 per-sons are displaced, primarily from Aceh. The dis-placed, most of whom are in and around the city ofMedan, include both native Acehnese and Javanesetransmigrants. Many of the native Acehnese are livingwith family or friends, while others are in sheltersestablished by long-time Acehnese residents of Medan.The Javanese transmigrants say they have fled threatsand abuse from native Acehnese, based on economiccompetition or suspicion about political sympathies.Some are living in collective centers, while others arein private homes.

Other areas of Sumatra are also hosting dis-placed persons from Aceh (primarily transmigrants).

In late September 2000, more than 120 Javanese fami-lies from Aceh were reportedly facing uncertainty inWest Sumatra, as the provincial government had in-sufficient funds to implement a planned relocation. Alocal official said the displaced were in temporaryshelters or with relatives, awaiting the availability ofhouses and land. Many were reportedly working for atea plantation.

In Southeast Sulawesi, including the island ofButon, as many as 130,000 persons are displaced.According to NGOs, conditions there range from fairto poor. Some displaced persons have reportedlypurchased land, while the government has relocatedothers to areas not suitable for long-term settlement(including Mauna, a coral island).

West Papua (also known as Irian Jaya) is bothhosting and producing internally displaced persons, inaddition to adapting to the return of some Papuanrefugees from Papua New Guinea. Nearly 4,000 of thedisplaced are from Maluku (primarily Ambon) andNorth Maluku. Most are on a relatively inaccessibleisland off Sorong, on the western tip of Papua. Ac-cording to ICMC, which is providing services to thedisplaced, a large number of Moluccan families havebeen in Sorong for generations, making it a logicaldestination for persons fleeing the strife in the Malukus.However, much of the Sorong community has beenunhappy with the influx. An initial group arrived inSorong in January 2000 and were there for more thantwo months. In the absence of sufficient services, theyfled onward to Tual in Southeast Maluku. A fewmonths later, a new group arrived, having fled thelatest violence.

◆ ◆ ◆

X. DISPLACEMENT ELSEWHEREIN INDONESIA


In early October 2000, violence between po-lice and pro-independence Papuans in the town ofWamena caused the death of 26 people and led morethan 10,000 civilians to seek shelter. Many were inmilitary and police posts, while others were in mosquesor churches. Wamena was virtually emptied of itsinhabitants. Most or all of the displaced were believedto be transmigrants. Weeks after the incident, interna-tional NGOs still did not have access to the displaced,although a central government official said the dis-placed were in squalid conditions and faced hunger ifrice did not reach them soon.

The largest group of displaced persons inIndonesia is in the province of Maluku, includingSoutheast Maluku. As of early September 2000,according to a report by ICMC, an estimated 135,000displaced persons were on Ambon Island (includingAmbon city), about half of whom were in camps andthe other half in collective centers or private homes.Another 150,000 were elsewhere in Maluku (includ-ing the islands of Buru, Seram, Karuku, Saparua, andTanimbar, as well as in the Tual area), for a total of285,000 displaced persons in Maluku Province. (WFPput that figure at 215,000 for the same period andshowed no change as of December 2000).

Although the level of violence in December2000 was much lower than earlier in the year, thesituation in Maluku remained tense, with sniper activ-ity and other outbursts still taking lives and causingpeople to flee. In many areas, physical barriers re-mained between Christian and Muslim communities.Members of the Laskar Jihad reportedly still had postsand checkpoints in all inner-city Muslim neighbor-hoods and had a “very visible presence.”

In addition to ICMC and its local partners, thedisplaced in Maluku are receiving services primarilyfrom ACF, MSF, and Mercy Corps. Throughout 2000,these agencies have struggled to maintain operationsin the midst of difficult security conditions, with ACFand Mercy Corps suspending operations for a period.

Many camps in Maluku are comprised solelyof Muslims or Christians, although others are mixed.The camps range from concrete buildings to moun-tainous jungles.

As of September 2000, the newest displacedpersons camp in Maluku, with 7,000 persons, was atRimba Raya. As ICMC explains:

Waai, a Christian community on the north-east side of Ambon Island, [was] attackedin early August this year, and the entirepopulation fled to the mountains and

walked to Ambon (120 kilometers) over a 5-day period. A number of elderly personsdied en route. Several local NGOs andchurch groups went into the mountains toaccompany them to Ambon. It was a verydifficult evacuation with heavy rains andflooding occurring at the time, and manypeople remain very traumatized. They arebeing housed in an aluminum copra ware-house and have been provided with... food,bedding and clothing.

Looking at the long term, ICMC has initiated the“Safe Passages” program. Its goals are to provideprotection and safe relocation for displaced personsevacuating from Maluku and to facilitate durable solu-tions such as return or local integration. The programis to operate in Papua, West Timor, Java, and Maluku.However, ICMC has noted that the current environ-ment in Maluku is not yet conducive for safe returns.“Along with demilitarizating the city and insertingsome form of civil policing, a disarmament programfor the civilian population will also be important,” saysthe agency. “It appears that a possible scenario is thereturn of [displaced persons] to their places of originbut not necessarily to their former neighborhoods/villages... None of this seems very likely in the nextyear.”

◆ ◆ ◆


To the government of Indonesia:

1. Take further steps to arrest and disarm themilitia in West Timor and the members of theLaskar Jihad and other groups or individualsresponsible for violence (including members ofthe military and police).

2. Take immediate steps, through the AttorneyGeneral’s office and the Human Rights Com-mission, to identify and prosecute those indi-viduals or entities that have funded or otherwisesupported the Jihad groups, particularly the Java-based Laskar Jihad.

3. Fully investigate the death of Jafar SiddiqHamzah—a New-York based human rights ac-tivist who went missing in Medan, North Sumatrain August 2000 and whose tortured body wasdiscovered September 2000—and the deathsand disappearances of other human rights activ-ists and humanitarian workers in Aceh andelsewhere. Those responsible for these actionsmust be brought to justice.

4. Treat internally displaced persons in full accor-dance with the UN’s Guiding Principles onInternal Displacement, with particular regard totheir needs for adequate shelter, health care, andsafety. Observe the Guiding Principles with re-gard to the prevention of arbitrary displacement.

5. Carefully monitor displacement throughout thecountry and rectify any gaps in assistance.

6. Carefully consider the implications of prema-ture or inappropriate relocation of displacedpersons, whether through the transmigrationprogram or other relocation efforts. In conduct-ing any such relocations, considerations shouldinclude the long-term viability of the new settle-ments—in terms of location, land, infrastruc-ture, and other aspects—as well as the desires ofthe displaced persons, the receptivity of thelocal community, and the potential for the dis-placed to return to their homes.

7. Given the role of transmigration in creatingmany of the tensions that have contributed tocommunal violence in Indonesia, maintain thecurrent moratorium on inter-island transmigra-tion. Limit local transmigration to situations

where no other viable solution can be foundand steps are taken to minimize any negativeimpact. Do not resume significant levels oftransmigration without serious reforms.

8. Fully cooperate with the UN Special Repre-sentative to the Secretary-General for Inter-nally Displaced Persons and the UN SpecialCoordinator on Internal Displacement whenthey conduct missions to Indonesia in 2001.Such cooperation should include facilitatingtheir access to displaced persons throughoutthe country.

To the U.S. government:

1. Do not reengage with the Indonesian militaryuntil civilian control of the military is clearlyestablished and the military is held account-able for human rights violations. A continuedmoratorium on such engagement is warrantedby recent developments in Indonesia, includ-ing: an upsurge in violence (by the military andmilitia) in West Timor and Aceh; the removalof certain reform-minded leaders in the Indo-nesian military; a constitutional amendmentpreventing any new human rights laws fromapplying to military abuses committed in thepast; and the national assembly’s adoption of adecree allowing the armed forces to retain their38 seats in the legislative assembly until 2009.

2. If military reengagement is contemplated, itshould occur only after Indonesia meets cer-tain conditions, including: (1) reforms to re-duce the military’s presence and influenceover local and provincial government struc-tures with the long-term goal of the full termi-nation of the “dual function” structure; (2) thecessation of military-sponsored militia vio-lence against East Timorese in West Timor andagainst the peoples of Aceh, West Papua, andother regions; (3) full cooperation by the mili-tary with domestic and international investiga-tions of human rights abuses; and (4) the dis-banding of Kopassus, the special military unitresponsible for the most egregious human rightsviolations.

XI. RECOMMENDATIONS


3. If U.S. training of the Indonesian police is re-initiated (as is currently being planned), ensurethat Indonesian NGOs and other groups familiarwith the police are consulted on the goals, cur-riculum, and techniques of the training. NGOsshould also have input in the selection of train-ing participants.

Although Indonesia has initiated a formalseparation of the police from the military, inmost areas of the country this separation has notyet taken hold. While in some regions the policeare viewed as neutral and are not implicated inhuman rights abuses, in other areas they areviewed no differently than the army and havebeen accused of facilitating the violence—or atleast failing to prevent it. In Aceh, for example,members of BRIMOB have been accused of par-ticular brutality.

For these reasons, any U.S. training of theIndonesian police should be focused on helpingachieve the demilitarization of Indonesian soci-ety. Demilitarization should include the com-plete separation of the military and police, thedeployment of police rather than the military insituations of internal conflict, and use of appro-priate police tactics in quelling violence.

To the UN and the international community:

1. Use all political and economic leverage to pressureand assist the Indonesian government to disarm,arrest, and prosecute all persons who incite orperpetuate communal violence, including impli-cated members of the armed forces, police, “Jihad”groups, militia, or other “provocateurs.”

2. If the Indonesian government remains unwillingto disarm the militia and to significantly reducethe level of communal violence throughout thecountry, the international community shouldconsider ways to reduce the bloodshed and pro-vide humanitarian assistance, with or withoutIndonesia’s cooperation.

3. The UN High Commissioner for Human Rightsshould send a team of human right observers toIndonesia and should appoint a special rappor-teur to investigate human rights abuses andmake recommendations to the Commission onHuman Rights. Such observations and investi-

gations should take place immediately in WestTimor, Aceh, and the Malukus as a potentialcurb on current violence, but it should ulti-mately include Central Sulawesi, West Papua,and other areas.

4. International relief and development agencies,including UN agencies and nongovernmentalorganizations, should monitor the situation ofdisplaced persons throughout Indonesia to en-sure the adequate provision of humanitarianassistance. Given Indonesia’s ongoing eco-nomic difficulties, humanitarian agencies shouldtake steps to ensure sufficient funding to meetthe most urgent needs of the displaced. Fundingappeals should stress the logistical challengesimposed by Indonesia’s geography.

5. To the extent possible under security condi-tions, UN relief and development agencies, in-ternational agencies, and NGOs should estab-lish or expand their presence in Aceh, Maluku,and elsewhere, both to provide assistance topersons in need and to serve as an internationalpresence with the goal of monitoring and pre-venting further violence.

6. Agencies experienced in assisting displaced per-sons should provide technical assistance to theIndonesian government at both the national andlocal levels to help ensure a coordinated andadequate response to displacement by the govern-ment, including the effective implementation oflong-term solutions such as relocation or return.

7. UNDP, national governments, and NGOs shouldassess the burdens that displacement has put onlocal communities and consider the assistanceand development needs of these areas.

8. While it may be too soon to conduct reconcili-ation programs in areas where violence is stilloccurring, the international community shouldbegin exploring ways to encourage reconcilia-tion between religious and ethnic communities.In particular, training of local NGOs should bea focus. To further the eventual reconciliation,the Indonesian government and the interna-tional community should help ethnic and reli-gious leaders to jointly investigate human rightsabuses, possibly with the assistance of a repre-sentative collection of local NGOs or otherneutral bodies.

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