1

Prising Open West Papua | A Quaker-led Peace Pilgrimage to West Papua | A

Report to Quaker Peace and Legislation Committee, Australian Yearly

Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) and the National

Council of Churches in Australia | March 2015

Summary

In January and February 2015, eleven people were invited by West Papuan church leaders to travel

to West Papua to attend celebrations for the 160th anniversary of the Gospel arriving in the Land of

Papua.

The visit was conceived as a Quaker-led Peace Pilgrimage. We sought to build relationships between

the pilgrims who travelled and the Papuans we met. We also explored how Church people in

Australia might maintain long-term relationships with Papuans and accompany them in their

nonviolent struggle for justice.

In small ways, we hoped to help break down Papuans’ experience of international isolation. At the

request of our Papuan hosts and to promote open access, we travelled without a Surat Jalan (Letter

of Travel) from the police, and visited Biak, Jayapura, the Paniai highlands, and Manokwari and

witnessed the suffering of the people and experienced the repressive presence of the state security

apparatus first hand.

We wish to share our report with National and World Council of Churches members, encourage

solidarity and advocacy with the people of West Papua and strengthen the links between churches

in Australia with churches in West Papua.

Introduction

In January and February 2015, elevenpeople – six Quakers, a Mennonite, three Catholics and a

Methodist from three countries (Australia, the United States and Fiji) travelled to West Papua.

Officially, we were invited to attend the 160th

anniversary of the Gospel arriving in the Land of

Papua. However, the genesis of the delegation – what we termed a peace pilgrimage – was a long-

standing relationship the co-leaders of the pilgrimage had with Reverend Dr Benny Giay, the

Moderator of the Kingmi Church in West Papua. Two years prior to the pilgrimage, Reverend Giay

wrote a letter to two of the leaders of the pilgrimage. In that letter, he said that Church leaders in

West Papua feel as if they are “surrounded by violence” and “cannot escape.” Reverend Giay went

on to ask if outside people of faith could accompany the church in some way. That question stayed

with the co-leaders. It kept them up at night until slowly the idea of a peace pilgrimage to West

Papua emerged.

West Papua is located on the western rim of the Pacific. It is one half of the island of New Guinea.

The eastern half is Papua New Guinea, an independent state since 1975. The western half is West

Papua, made up of two provinces, Papua and Papua Barat. The land of Papua – which is another

name West Papuans give to their country that has been forcibly occupied by the Indonesian

Government since 1963. It is Indonesia’s Palestine, less well known by Australians but greener – 75%

of the mountainous interior is cloaked in rainforest – and much closer. From Boigu Island in the

Torres Strait, Australia’s northern most island, you can wade across to Papua New Guinea. From

2

there it is a few days walk to the West Papuan border. West Papua may only be a swim and walk

away from Australia but it may as well be the dark side of the moon. The country is what journalist,

Mark Davis, called a ‘secret story’, hidden from the outside world by the vagaries of geopolitics and a

policy of keeping foreign journalists, human rights workers and even diplomats out.

Rev Dr Benny Giay was not being dramatic in his letter. Only a month before we travelled to West

Papua, four young people, some of them in primary school, were shot dead by the Indonesian Police

in Paniai, in the remote highlands. One of the young people had been savagely beaten by the army

the night before. He and his friends had been holding a vigil at a makeshift roadside chapel when a

car drove by without its lights on. The young people yelled at the driver to put his lights on. The car

stopped and soldiers hopped out and proceeded to beat the boy. The next day, on 8 December

2014, the boy’s friends went to protest the beating. When they arrived in town, they saw the car

driven by the soldiers. Angry, they started hitting the car. That is when the police opened fire with

live ammunition, killing four. Despite calls by civil society for a thorough and independent

investigation no action against the police had been taken. Joko (Jokowi) Widowo, the current

Indonesian President’s response has been tepid. It now seems that this will be one more example in

a five decade long list of cases of security forces impunity. It did not take much dialogue to peel back

a layer of fear amongst many of the people we talked to in Paniai.

These young people are members of Benny Giay’s flock. His heart – and ours – is breaking as he

struggles to respond to what seems to be a never ending cycle of violence and impunity. This is a

glimpse of the reality of West Papua and the context in which the pilgrimage took place.

In general, our purpose was to explore ecumenical dialogue – both between pilgrims and the Papuan

church but also between churches in Papua and the wider Pacific as well and to be a nonviolent

presence seeking to stand with Papuans in their desire for a just and sustainable peace. We met with

a range of Protestant and Catholic church groups – the GKI-TP (The Evangelical Church in the Land of

Papua), the Kingmi Church, Catholic representatives from the Office for Justice and Peace, students

from theological colleges and Catholics in the highlands. Pilgrims also had the great pleasure of

meeting with Reverend Tabita Havea, the Moderator of the Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC)

and Netani Rika, also from the PCC.

Our purpose was not just to

engage in respectful and

peaceful ecumenical dialogue.

Papuan hosts asked us not to

apply for police permission to

travel. We agreed to abide by

that request in order to

support their nonviolent

campaign to open up West

Papua to media access. But we

did not just want to test how

much political space we would

have, we desired to be an

encouraging presence to a

people suffocating under a

blanket of fear. In doing so, it

is important to emphasise that the visit was carefully negotiated with the people and communities

we met.

Above: Being welcomed to a village in West Papua

3

Aside from visiting Mansinam Island, Manokwari where the 160th

anniversary celebrations took

place, we also travelled to Jayapura, Biak and the Paniai highlands. This report outlines the purpose

of the pilgrimage, shares some initial outcomes of the visit, narrates our experience with the security

apparatus and the effect this has on the people of West Papua and concludes with some

recommendations for the National Council of Churches in Australia to consider.

We would like to thank the Quaker Peace and Legislation Committee, a donor in Europe who wishes

to remain un-named, the pilgrims themselves and especially the people of Papua who hosted us, for

making the pilgrimage possible. We pray that there will be more visits like this.

The purpose of the pilgrimage

The pilgrimage’s four objectives were to:

1. Build relationships between pilgrims and Papuans;

2. Offer moral encouragement that in small ways helps break down Papuans’ experience of

international isolation;

3. Engage Regional and Yearly Meetings of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) in

Australia, the Catholic Justice and Peace Commission of the Archdiocese of Brisbane and the

Pacific Conference of Churches in learning more about West Papua and exploring interest in

advocating with and on behalf of Papuans;

4. Identify if Papuans and outsiders are willing to explore what it might mean to accompany

West Papuans in their nonviolent struggle for justice and to maintain long-term relationships

with a shared concern for nonviolent struggle, peace and justice; and if there is interest in

this aspect, exploring what accompanying Papuans and the nonviolent movement for

freedom and rights might look like.

Significant progress has been made on all these objectives. As organisers and pilgrims, we feel that

the visit has surpassed our expectations.

Some initial outcomes of the visit

Even though our visit

only concluded recently

we can already discern

some significant

outcomes:

• We were a

nonviolent presence and

source of moral

encouragement for

people looking for ways

out from under a

suffocating blanket of

fear. That

encouragement was

most visible in Biak and

Paniai where the weight Above: Morning in the highlands of West Papua

4

of repression has fallen heaviest. Papuan human rights defenders and community advocates

told us repeatedly that our visit communicated tangibly that they are not alone, that

outsiders care about their plight. In small ways, our presence expanded – even if

momentarily – the political space for those we met.

• Our visit also contributed to eroding West Papua’s international isolation. By intentionally

not cooperating with the Surat Jalan system, we have made a contribution to the Papuan-led

opening up of West Papua to access by foreign media and international human rights

organisations(see below).

• We also helped contribute to village development. As part of the preparation for the visit to

the highlands, we constructed a toilet and shower block for the village. When the Nabire-

Timika road is sealed, that will make it easier for the village to open a small guest house for

travellers. Our visit, which concluded with a pig feast on the last night, was part of an

important cultural practice of exchange and mutual obligation through which wealth is

redistributed.

• The visit led to an opportunity for significant ecumenical dialogue between churches from

West Papua and other parts of the Pacific.

We all came away changed in some way. The friendships we made and experiences we had will

continue to resonate for years to come.

As pilgrims together in a momentary community, we also learnt much about ourselves and each

other. In very stressful settings, we tried to extend care and trust to one another. Even when we

failed and hurt each other, we were held in love by the group. The way we all tried to practise

fearless conversation, listened, sought to transform the ways we have internalised the forces of

empire, and extended forgiveness and mercy was an inspiration and a source of hope, even when

we fell short.

Prising open West Papua

In recent months, a rumour has been circulating within West Papuan civil society that police

permission is no longer needed to travel outside of the capital, Jayapura. For decades, access to the

western half of the island of New Guinea has been tightly controlled by the Indonesian

Government’s intelligence services, immigration, military and police. Foreign journalists, human

rights defenders, even diplomats – in fact, anyone considered meddlesome by the State – are all

required to obtain and carry a Surat Jalan, or Letter of Travel, from the Police. Officially, the

Indonesian Government wants to protect visitors. The Government’s line is that foreigners’ safety

and well-being might be jeopardised by Papuan guerrillas active in the remote mountains and

jungles.

In reality, however, the movement for freedom is overwhelmingly nonviolent. What the Indonesian

Government doesn’t want the world to know is how deep Papuan resentment of, and dissent from

Indonesian rule goes. Jakarta will, of course, deny that access to West Papua is closed for foreign

media. Such a policy position runs counter to Indonesia’s desire to project itself as a vibrant

democracy. Technically, the bureaucrats are correct. West Papua is open to foreigners including

journalists; one only needs to apply for permission. But West Papua is not Bali. It is Indonesia’s

Palestine, a police state at the neglected eastern periphery of a sprawling archipelago. According to

Andreas Harsono from Human Rights Watch, obtaining coveted permission requires approval from

no less than 18 separate government agencies. Navigating this maze can take months. More often

than not, permission is not granted. In theory, Papua is not closed to foreign media; in practice, it is.

5

So, when a senior West Papuan journalist told us that foreigners no longer needed a Surat Jalan to

travel around West Papua, we were intrigued. With a new reform minded president in power, Joko

“Jokowi” Widodo, could this be the beginning of opening up foreign access to West Papua, including

journalists?

For two weeks, the delegation visited the north coast, highlands and the Birds Head region of the

land of Papua.

It was not without incident.

Visiting Biak

In Biak, we met with a

community of

survivors of State

violence, survivors

from the 1960s when

the Indonesian military

forcibly annexed West

Papua as well as

survivors from the

1998 Biak Massacre.

Our group was taken

to a meeting house

used by customary

leaders where we

experienced a

traditional welcome.

After a meal of taro, sweet potato, fish and greens we gathered in a circle, opened with prayer and

song and began to share stories. If we pilgrims close our eyes, we can still hear the children singing

“We are crying now, but the sun will set and the dawn will herald a new day”.

Perhaps it was only 15 minutes into our discussion when the local police, members of the

intelligence services and head of Immigration arrived. Our colleague Rosa and our local contacts

confronted the police with the kind of steely defiance many of us have come to admire in Papuans.

As Mr Yunanto, the head of immigration, spoke, Rosa changed the rules of engagement. After

ascertaining that the Immigration officer was from Yogyakarta, Rosa insisted he show some respect.

Speaking in a mixture of Javanese and Indonesian, Rosa told him, “This is a customary house”.

“When I am in the Kraton [the Sultan’s Palace in Yogyakarta], I observe your customs. Now, you are

in Papua, you must do the same here. Take off your shoes and sit down!” she said.

While this interaction happened at the entrance to the customary house, we were in an adjacent

room. Mindful that the experience of being raided by the Indonesian authorities might be re-

traumatising to some of those we were with, not to mention alarming to some of the members of

our group, we tightened the circle and moved into song. Sarah Thompson, a Mennonite theologian

with years of experience working in conflict zones in the Middle East, Africa and Latin America, led

us in an Indonesian and English rendition of a Sunday school song,”This is the Day”, replete with

actions.

Above: Surfing on planks of wood in Biak

6

It helped.

Meanwhile, back in the entrance hall, the act of removing footwear and sitting on the floor shifted

the power dynamics of negotiations. The insistence by the police and intelligence officers that we be

immediately taken down to the station for questioning was rebuffed by Rosa and Sandra, our local

hosts. “This is a meeting with church leaders,” they patiently explained. “We are not going to

interrupt it.” Instead, Rosa put forward a compromise position - that four people would surrender

their passports now and, later that evening, those four plus an additional three would present

themselves to the Immigration Office in Biak City for an interview. (Seven was the number of

foreigners the numerically challenged authorities counted. We felt no compulsion to correct them.)

Above: Intelligence officers, police and the head of the Biak Immigration Office arrive in Biak to question us.

With an agreement now in place, the police, intelligence service and Immigration left. We continued

our meeting, but not for long; the atmosphere had changed. Afternoon shadows were growing

longer and we did not want people to travel home in the dark. The topic of conversation now shifted

to how survivors of human rights violations are treated by the state. A woman – let’s call her

Deborah – started to cry. “Now you see what we go through,” she said. “We experience this kind of

harassment every day. They beat us and tortured us, they killed our family. They can do what they

like, but we are being persecuted.” Louden (not his real name), a survivor of the Biak Massacre, told

us how that, after nearly 17 years, there was still no justice for the victims. A number had lost their

jobs or pensions because they had been active in the freedom movement. “We want to be free from

Indonesia!” Louden said simply.

We were all affected by that meeting. The survivors we met that day had been taken to the edge of

hell but they were refusing to give up on the hope that one day they would be free. We were there

to provide some measure of solace to them but it was they who encouraged us.

7

Later that afternoon, we debriefed in our hotel. Most of the discussion was about the impact of our

presence on the Papuans we were associated with. We also discussed which three people, in

addition to the four who had already surrendered their passports, would go to the Immigration

Office and the approach we would take.

The agreement to go to the Office later in the day gave us much needed space to research the

regulations surrounding the granting of tourist visas on which we were all travelling. This allowed us

to insist that no permission was needed to travel to Papua. “After all,” explained Rosa, “when we

were in the Immigration Office, “all we are doing is visiting friends, attending places of worship and

visiting sites of interest.” We had broken no law. We were not working and we were not journalists,

the line of questioning Yunanto was most interested in. Rosa then pushed the point further. “Do I

need permission to visit Java?” she asked. “Do foreigners need permission to visit Prambanan [a

Hindu temple], Borobodur [a Buddhist temple] or even Indonesians in their homes?” Of course, the

answer to these questions is that there is complete freedom of movement and freedom of assembly

in every part of Indonesia with the exception of Papua. “We are still in Indonesia, right?” Rosa said,

urging him to articulate exactly why we were called in for questioning.

Although our passports were returned and we were released without charge, the situation had not

resolved itself. The next morning, Yunanto and one of his lieutenants was back at the hotel where

we were staying. They seized a copy of the hotel manifest. They then questioned Rosa further,

interrupting her breakfast and insisting that she now hand over her identification. Rosa refused to

do so. Thinking quickly on her feet, Rosa called Ruben Magay MP, a senior member of the Provincial

Papuan Parliament, to clarify the situation and to respond to Yunanto’s insistence that she hand

over her ID. In a conversation lasting 20 minutes, Mr Magay explained the finer points of Indonesian

law and the Indonesian Constitution which, in theory at least, guarantees basic freedoms. Rosa later

told our group that the discussion between Magay and Yunanto was rather one-sided. The

Immigration official was put in his place by an irate Magay. Rosa described the conversation as

consisting mainly of Mr Yunanto being silent, punctuated only by the occasional “No, Pak’

[Indonesian for Father/Sir]”,”Yes, Pak,” and “of course, Pak.” In an effort to end the intimidation of

our Papuan friends and to put the matter to rest, Peter, one of the Catholics in the group, phoned

Mr Yunanto and insisted that harassment of Rosa stop immediately.

The rest of the day we enjoyed unencumbered access to Biak’s beautiful beaches.

Above: Beautiful Bosnik Beach, Biak

8

Visiting Jayapura/Port Numbay

Before and after Biak, we based ourselves in Jayapura (victorious city in Indonesian), the capital of

West Papua, also known as Port Numbay by West Papuans. There we had an opportunity to meet

with Catholic peace, justice and human rights defenders, with student activists and resistance

leaders. They spoke movingly of the way they are accompanying political prisoners, seeking to make

visible humanising values, and their hopes that the Church will stand in defence of Gospel values in

what is a very difficult and delicate situation.

Our meeting with students and nonviolent resistors was also very powerful. We met with

representatives from GempaR (Student movement for the Papuan People), KNPB (West Papua

National Committee), WPNA (West Papua National Authority), NFRWP (National Federal Republic of

West Papua), and Garda-Papua (Papuan Democracy Movement). These young people spoke clearly

and personally of how the occupation affected them and their aspirations for a free West Papua.

Members of KNPB shared that between January 2012 and January 2015, twenty-nine KNPB activists,

committed to nonviolent resistance, have been summarily executed by the Indonesian State. The

main perpetrators in these extra-judicial killings are members of Detachment 88, a counter-terrorist

group trained and armed by the United States and Australian Governments.

Visiting Paniai

But Biak was not the only place we experienced the repressive presence of the State security

apparatus. We also travelled to Paniai in the remote Papuan highlands. After the 8 December

killings, the situation was extremely tense. It now seems that this will be one more example in a five

decade long list of cases of security force impunity. It did not take much dialogue to peel back a layer

of fear amongst many of the people we talked to in Paniai.

Above: Church leaders gather to pray with Rev Benny Giay at a church meeting in Paniai

Paniai, much more than Biak, felt like the frontier of the Indonesian State. On the six hour drive up

to the highlands, we passed countless artisanal gold miners set up in tents on the red mud beside

the road. At the 100km mark, we passed through a military roadblock. A bored soldier illegally

collected a 100,000 rupiah ‘entry fee’ per car as his colleagues played volleyball in the field behind

the post. The military controls the trade of gold out of Paniai. Adjacent to the military post was a

9

mural depicting paratroopers and other scenes of war. What would ‘mama’ sitting in the front seat

of the car think about that mural? She had lived through the sixties when villages in Paniai were

bombed and strafed by machine guns, sometimes using US supplied OV-10 Bronco bombers, C-130

transport aircraft and M 16 automatic weapons. During those years, Indonesian paratroopers were

dropped in their hundreds. The Indonesian soldiers thought they were liberating the Papuans from

the Dutch. For Papuans, White Dutch colonialism was simply replaced with Brown Indonesian

colonialism. Their country was handed over from one group of outsiders to another.

The sign above the military post boldly declared ‘warriors protect the people’. It is not clear what

‘people’ the words referred to. The mothers of the children shot dead last December certainly did

not feel protected. Underneath were the words ‘bravery, honesty and responsibility’. Amongst those

who work for the Indonesian State, particularly the security forces, these qualities are in short

supply. We all sank lower into our seats hoping that the black glass really was impenetrable to his

gaze.

While in Wadouw, the Mee language word for the highlands, we had the opportunity to attend two

church services. The first church service was at a Kingmi Church seminar where we were the invited

guests of Rev Dr Benny Giay. The church was packed, attended by approximately 600 people. People

had gathered to speak about the recent killings of young people and children. Both anger and fear

were palpably present in the room. There was also a search for nonviolent ways out. Reverend Giay,

in particular, expressed great appreciation that we had travelled to Wadouw to stand with his

congregation in their pain and suffering.

On Sunday, the following day, we attended a local Catholic Church for Mass. This was a deeply

satisfying experience, not just for the Catholics on our team but for the Protestants too. It felt like

Jesus was really present with us, and we with Him. We all noticed how the Catholic Church in Papua

has embraced the principle of inculturation enthusiastically. Mee language was used in Mass and

translated into Indonesian. When the offering was collected money was not the only thing that was

Above: The Indonesian military post and roadblock at the 100km mark on the Nabire-Timika road.

Each car pays 100,000 Rupiah sometimes more. Troops can be seen playing volleyball in the

background.

10

given. People generously offered the fruits of their labour and produce from the abundance of their

land. This was presented in a traditional way, with dancing and chanting led by women in traditional

dress.

On the last day of our four days in Wadouw, a rumour circulated through the village that the police

had heard a group of foreigners were present in the village and that there was some kind of

gathering. We were told the police were on their way to talk to us. Our group quickly huddled and,

together with our hosts, talked through how we would respond. By this stage, there was a whiff of

adrenaline amongst our team. Perhaps we were getting used to this? The police did not show up,

but the rumour of their impending arrival provoked an intense discussion about fear, resistance and

the limits of the Indonesian State. Everyone was permitted to speak and a range of views were

canvassed. Our group sat on the dry bracken fern floor and kept quiet as the dialogue carried on in

Mee language around us. The only thing our Indonesia/English speakers understood was Indonesian;

words like ‘fear’, ‘police’ and ‘army’.

Outside our makeshift shelter, the rain hammered down.

When the discussion was over we feasted on pork, sweet potatoes and fern soaked in pig’s blood.

The food had been cooked by stones heated red hot in the fire, then covered with leaves. The entire

community participated - young people, men, women, and children. All had clear roles. When the

food was over some of the women took off their tops. For the sake of modesty they covered their

backs with a noken – woven string bags made from bark.

They then composed songs about our visit, chanting lyrics in the distinctive hypnotic style of the Mee

people while they danced bare-breasted in flickering firelight. Fear was punctured by grace. Light

streamed in through the holes, rendered visible as the smoke from the fire swirled around us. It was

a magical night.

Left: Preparing 'Bakar Batu'

(cooked stones) earth oven in

Wadouw, Paniai.

11

Visiting Mansinam

Our final visit in West Papua was to Mansinam, a small island off the

coast of Manokwari. We were invited guests for the 5th

of February

festivities celebrating 160years of the arrival of the Gospel to the Land

of Papua. The army, navy, paramilitary police and regular police were

all there. We even saw a man wearing a militia t-shirt filming the

thousands of guests.

The entire surroundings may have been decked out in red and white,

the colours of the Indonesian flag, but it felt like the decorations were

more a desperate insistence by the Indonesian State than an embrace

of a chosen present by the Papuans. The over the top nationalism and

the overwhelming presence of the security forces certainly did not

stop young people – migrants and Papuans alike – performing a

powerful play about the reality of life in Papua. One scene portrayed

an occupying army laying waste to terrified civilians, all played out to

the sound track of an Iwan Fals (a popular Javanese singer-songwriter )

pro-democracy tune.

As we hopped on the plane to fly 3000km from Jayapura to Jakarta, we

reflected on our visit. The State still fears journalists and access to

conflict areas remains

closely monitored, but

something is clearly

changing in West Papua.

Closing off Papua to

foreigners including

journalists is undemocratic.

It is also unsustainable.

Practically, in an age of

internet communication

technology, the

democratisation of

electricity through solar

power (even the village of

Wadouw had power), and

growing transnational

linkages between Papuans

and the rest of the world,

sealing off the territory is technically impossible.

But this is not the Indonesian Government’s only problem. Members of our church delegation

experienced less willingness – or perhaps less certainty – by the security forces to insist on special

permission to visit Papua and more willingness by Papuans to challenge the State’s authoritarianism.

The goal of open access has not been won, but the Surat Jalan system is clearly breaking down.

Above: A Papua man taking photos of the

audience at 5 February 2015 celebrations.

He is wearing a Barisan Merah Putih T-

Shirt, a feared Indonesian nationalist

militia group.

Above: young people perform a play at the 5th of February Military celebrations

depicting the reality of life in West Papua.

12

Above: Leading the offering at Mansinam Island church service, 5th February 2015.

Recommendations

We respectfully request the National Council of Churches in Australia to discuss the following three

simple and achievable recommendations:

1. Make this report available to NCCA member churches. If members would like pilgrims to

speak about their visit to West Papua, there would be a number of people willing to do

so.

2. Continue to strengthen links between churches in Australia and churches within West

Papua (Papua and Papua Barat provinces)

3. Forward this report to the World Council of Churches and accompany it with advocacy

on opening up West Papua to the international press and releasing political prisoners in

partnership with West Papuan churches.

Given this pilgrimage was an experiment in unprecedented solidarity work in our region, if

possible,participants of the pilgrimage would like to present this report personally to the NCCA

Executive.

Thank-you. May the peace and spirit of God nourish us all. May God give those of us who are

satisfied, a hunger for justice; and those of us who hunger for food, may God give us sustenance.

For more information please contact Dale Hess at d.hess@ozemail.com. This report was written in

consultation with fellow pilgrims.