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West Irian (West Papua)

The Plebiscite — The Act of No Choice

1969

Widespread rebellions erupted across the Western Central Highlands with the potential to jeopardize the integrity of the imminent voting process. Indonesia responded by increasing its military presence. In April, one hundred Papuan police mutinied and joined the Free Papuan Movement, OPM.

General Sarwo Edhie, the territory’s Indonesian military commander, came under fire when his plane flew over the area. Livid at the audacity of the attack the General responded in the same bloody manner as he had in the aftermath of the failed Communist takeover in 1965. Ordering his forces to punish the OPM to the extreme, B-26 bombers strafed hamlets, and paratroopers from West Java were flown in to sweep the territory clean of all resistance. However, superior numbers and weaponry failed to break the Papuan spirit and the Indonesian counter attack faltered with nationalist demonstrations flaring on all fronts.

* * * *

In an isolated enclave dominated by snow covered peaks, dusk passed. Darkness now masked the permanent mantel of clouded forest and verdant, fluorescent-green landscape, blanketing valleys below. Plumes snaked lazily from open timber-fuelled fires, flames illuminating the communal centre where ageing, betel-stained-teeth women gathered to watch barefooted children play. Surrounded by oak-brown thatched huts, young men sat within earshot of their elders, shoulders wrapped against the brisk highland air as they listened intently to Tomas Karma who had come to confer with the tribal council.

The Reverend Natan Tabuni’s discerning eyes locked on Tomas Karma’s movements from the moment he had entered the village. Natan had learned from others associated with the Council of Churches’ missionary activities that Tomas had often been sighted mingling with Jakarta’s dreaded Special Forces and members of BRIMOB, the brutal Mobile Police Brigade. During an earlier visit when he had challenged Tomas, the thirty-year-old, self-appointed ondoafi, or traditional head, had simply shrugged off the question, leaving Natan sceptical as to the man’s sincerity in supporting the OPM. The Reverend’s travels occasioned visits to Tomas’ home area of Sentani where whispers of the large numbers of Papuans killed were directly accorded to Tomas’ association with the Indonesian military. Natan considered the man an enigma; deeply concerned that Dutch-educated Tomas harboured a secret political agenda which could threaten the overall independence movement.

Natan continued to eye the visitor who sat crouched, squatting on haunches, arms crossed, seemingly absorbed by youngsters wrestling in the flickering campfire light. Natan’s attention was momentarily distracted by Bennie, as the light-skinned child wrestled his opponent, Jules, to the ground in laughter.

Natan never tired of watching the adopted seven-year-old boys at play, content that they had integrated successfully into village life. As the boys frolicked Jules gained the advantage over his adversary Bennie. Unable to break his hold Bennie yielded to Jules who rose to his feet and playfully beat his chest.

Natan smiled, the moment reviving a memory he wished he could put to rest.

Several months had passed since news of the Dutch missionary’s slaughter had reached Natan’s village. The elder had hurried to the scene and, upon viewing the carnage, had his men bury the Dutch woman where she had died. Julius had been taken to Natan’s community in the highlands to be cared for until, as Natan had mistakenly assumed, the authorities would repatriate the child. As the months passed the infant became part of the village mosaic; his assimilation into Natan’s community unobserved to the outside world.

The village elder considered the two children. It was not uncommon for mixed ethnicity to be evident in Papuan families. During the Dutch presence there were numerous liaisons with native women. And, as the Dutch society across the Indies perceived a mixed marriage a greater evil than concubinage, and men married to native women and their offspring were barred from returning to Europe, the fruit of these relationships were invariably left behind.

Natan’s thoughts turned to Bennie who had been delivered into his hands by Brother Tobias, following the disappearance of the American explorer Michael Rockefeller.

Charged with keeping Bennie’s origins secret, Natan had undertaken to never reveal the truth of Bennie’s parentage; the boy’s past would remain buried, a pact sworn with the missionary, Tobias.

* * * *

Tomas Karma moved closer to the camp fire, shadows flickering across his figure when a villager stoked embers to life.

‘Before I leave,’ he addressed the older men, ‘I remind you again what is expected of this village.’ Assured of their attention he continued. ‘Soon there will be others who will come. These will be representatives of the great world power, the United Nations who will oversee the plebiscite. You must do as they say.’

With the majority of the elders’ eyes dropping subserviently, Tomas remained confident knowing that yet another village community would comply with the voting procedures he had adumbrated earlier in the day. With his connivance, West Irian would remain a fiefdom to the Javanese.

Long after Tomas Karma had departed on his continuing quest to convince West Papuans that the model proposed to conduct the plebiscite would provide fair representation, the Reverend Natan Tabuni remained deeply troubled. He ruminated through the night as he considered the ramifications of the proposed, flawed-voting procedures which would undoubtedly deliver the three hundred Papuan tribes into Indonesian arms. Natan accepted that the Papuans would be tempted to take the line of least resistance, having been subjected to partial Indonesian occupation since the betrayal of 1963, when Jakarta mobilised large concentrations of rapacious military personnel to the territory. He had witnessed Indonesia’s denigration of the Papuan people; the degradation by racial discrimination. It was clear to Natan that the Javanese looked down upon the indigenes as being inferior because of their darker skin and lack of civilized attributes. He had seen how the presence of Indonesian troops had placed an unendurable burden on the local economy with military commanders plundering produce creating life threatening shortages of fruit and vegetables, crucial to the local population for their survival.

Natan had learned that the occupying armed forces had mobilised close to ten thousand troops in West Irian, the bulk belonging to the Cenderawasih, Hasanudin, Brawidjaja, Siliwangi and Merdeka Divisions with a support group of Mobile Brigade police. Faced with such formidable forces he accepted that it would simply be a matter of time before the occupying forces mopped up the fractured elements of resistance, as his people had few modern weapons, ammunition or supplies.

He prayed that a groundswell of world opinion would prevent the ongoing brutal repression. However, as Jakarta had never heeded the international community when crushing other secessionist movements in the past, Natan was far from optimistic. When his thoughts returned to what might lay ahead for Papuans, he rested his chin on calloused hands and prayed.

Saddened by what appeared to be inevitable, Natan continued his silent deliberations, sitting alone in the village square whilst others slept, until crowing roosters broke the silence of dawn.

* * * *

Akumuga Mining Site

Makoe Mountain Range

Sitting amongst the high slopes of the Makoe Mountains within the Akumuga Mine complex, Brother Tobias gazed moodily across the improvised school grounds, wondering how the children could maintain their playful activities, in the oxygen-starved outpost.

The missionary unconsciously fiddled with a loose overcoat button until it dangled then fell to the floor. Cursing painful joints as he bent down to recover the chipped, wooden disc the movement exacerbated the headache resulting from a mixture of high mountain air, and the remnants of a bottle of home-brewed arak.

Tobias rose and leaned back in his wobbly, plastic chair now stretched under his oversized frame, his thoughts distracted by a child standing forlornly watching others at play. The image resurrected past events and his mind momentarily tracked back to the fair-skinned child born seven years before. Recollections of the young American dragged from crocodile-infested, muddy reaches along the Asmat shores, reminded Tobias of events that he hoped would remain buried and forgotten.

Michael Rockefeller had been mauled and not expected to survive. Limited medical resources were available to tend to his wounds however, under the attentive eyes of the village women the man gradually recovered.

Several weeks convalescing had passed when, suddenly, approaching Christmas Eve, Michael Rockefeller disappeared without any trace. It was as if he had never existed. Or at least, not in that village.

Neither Tobias nor the villagers were aware of the American’s importance until foreign teams appeared and scoured the mangrove-ringed coastline searching for the missing heir, Michael Rockefeller. Tobias had never understood why Rockefeller had not revealed his identity, arriving at the conclusion that this was withheld, because the wealthy and educated explorer knew that his family name would have no significance, in this distant and unfamiliar corner of the planet.

When one of the village women, who had been in close attendance with the handsome explorer later died giving birth to a light-skinned child with obvious Caucasian features, the elders took the mother’s death as a sign and threatened to sacrifice the newborn.

Tobias remembered moving quickly to remove the child from the village. Previous contact with a highland community that had converted to Christianity drove him to take the infant there, for safety. When he arrived at Natan Tabuni’s doorstep, the baby was close to death. With a surrogate mother identified the child survived its ordeal. Prior to Tobias’ return to the Asmat community, he and Natan had christened the boy, naming him Bennie.

Upon his return, Tobias remained in the Asmat area for a further five years before being assigned to overseeing the spiritual needs of the burgeoning, mining population at the newly-created Akumuga mining village.

* * * *

Mobilisation for the Akumuga Mine had commenced within months of the US-based consortium signing with the Indonesian Government. A one-hundred kilometre road had been carved out of the challenging terrain followed by the construction of a pipeline from the newly-created port facility and airstrip on the southern coast. A township had emerged embracing the port development, aptly named Kampung Mas, which translated literally as “Gold Village”.

The entire landscape became peppered with Indonesian Special Forces KOPASSUS soldiers.

Tobias’ mind glazed back to the scene outside as another helicopter arrived disembarking expatriate engineers. He knew these foreign workers would remain on site for their two-week stint, accommodated in converted containers, before being shuttled back to Kampung Mas, where charter flights connected to home destinations.

Military barracks providing support facilities for the one hundred Indonesian soldiers were strategically placed towards the main gate entrance. Along the outer perimeter shanty-dwellings had already appeared. These were occupied predominantly by prostitutes transported to the site from poverty-stricken environments throughout the Nusa Tenggara Islands, although a small number of local indigenous women from the three Akumuga tribes also worked in the brothel.

The missionary occupied one of the converted container dwellings. The elongated structure partitioned to provide for basic living quarters at one end, whilst the remaining half was presented as a small, makeshift chapel.

Tobias managed himself upright and over to the first aid cabinet. He squinted inside the small cupboard, his brow collapsing into furrows upon discovering the bottle of arak was not in its customary hiding place. Stumbling around the cramped quarters he found the bottle lying in the sink, alarmingly empty, and he cursed aloud, raising an index finger to the heavens then sulked.

* * * *

Australia

Canberra

Director John W. Andersen returned from his one-on-one with the larrikin Prime Minister John Gorton, somewhat relieved that the former RAAF pilot shared his views with respect to the United States and, closer to home, Indonesia.

Andersen opened his briefcase, extracted a file bound with bright red tape signifying the contents’ level of secrecy, and re-read the report he had earlier tabled for the PM. The communication was headed “Secret, AUSTEO (Australian Eyes Only) — Australian Special Forces’ West Irian Cross Border Intrusions”.

Although joint members of the 1947 UK-USA Security Treaty which established an alliance of Anglo-sphere countries for the purpose of sharing intelligence, it was unusual for the Australian intelligence agencies to withhold information from their ally, the United States. The Australian Security Intelligence Organization (ASIO) and the Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS), the equivalent to both the CIA and MI6 were very closely integrated at most levels of the intelligence exchange apparatus. In fact, Andersen encouraged ASIO and ASIS agents to develop even closer relationships with their foreign counterparts, as it was undeniable that both agencies identified ideologically with the CIA’s right-wing elements. Nevertheless, Andersen and his predecessors had gone to extreme measures to protect the integrity of the existence of ASIS which, as of that time, was known only to a limited few, the exclusion including New Zealand until only four years before. ASIS members, upon sighting any communication or file that bore the heading “OYSTER” knew immediately that the contents were the product of the real Secret Service.

Since its inception, ASIS had been involved in a number of projects designed to destabilise Indonesia’s pro-Communist president, Sukarno which, inarguably, resulted in the mass murder of hundreds of thousands of Indonesians during the turmoil that followed. Now, undeniably supporting the recently-installed Suharto regime, ASIS continued with its clandestine operations across the archipelago, directed from the First Secretary Political Affairs office in the Australian Embassy on Jalan Thamrin, Jakarta.

* * * *

Andersen’s meeting with John Gorton had lasted just under an hour. The Prime Minister’s derogatory anti-comments during their discussion were not entirely in concert with the Director’s own position.

‘I don’t trust the bastards,’ the PM had reiterated, as Andersen recalled the somewhat undiplomatic statement being made by Gorton to the American Secretary of State, Dean Rusk on an earlier occasion. ‘And I am sick and tired of being reminded that we should be obligated to their so-called nuclear umbrella!’

The PM continued his diatribe. ‘It’s time we did something constructive about developing our own nuclear weaponry.’ Andersen remained silent, permitting the PM to vent. ‘We shouldn’t fall into the trap of believing that the Americans would keep their side of our treaty, the event of any nuclear threat.’ Andersen was aware of the heated exchange between Rusk and Gorton which had resulted in a searing recommendation by Rusk to Washington comparing the Australian PM to France’s Charles de Gaulle. The Americans were deeply annoyed with Gorton’s insistence that Australia should serious consider constructing its own nuclear arsenal at a time the USA was lobbying for a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, and pressing Canberra to sign.

John Gorton scratched at a phantom itch on the side of his cheek. ‘There’s no doubt about their intentions to remain the only player in our backyard,’ he continued. ‘This business of Washington urges us to crank up our efforts in establishing military cooperation with Jakarta. It’s just so bloody obvious. On one hand they don’t wish to be perceived as having any influence over the outcome of the Irian vote, yet they have all but guaranteed the Indonesians that not only the UN, but Australia as well, will support a pro-Jakarta outcome.’

‘We all know why Washington wants it that way,’ Andersen reminded him.

The PM continued to scratch as he considered the US Navy brief he had been privy to, even before assuming the leadership from the interim Prime Minister, Jack McEwen. ‘Well, providing the Americans with free passage through Indonesian waters for their nuclear submarines has certainly come at a price.’

Andersen sensed where the conversation was heading. Unbeknown to the general public there were two deep ocean passages that joined the South China Sea and Pacific Ocean to the Indian Ocean, both imperative for the undetected transit by nuclear submarines. The Lombok Strait was one such channel and the other, the lesser known trenches of Ombai and Wetar which touched the island of Timor, were more frequently traversed by US warships.

The ASIS Director was au fait with US submarines and the missiles they carried. He knew that currently, these boats were armed with the Polaris A3 which could strike any target within two thousand, five hundred nautical miles which placed most of SE Asia and China within range. Operating from the nearest submarine base located on Guam, nuclear-missile carrying submarines could choose between the Ombai-Wetar or Lombok passages to access targets in the Middle East, and Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, saving some eight to ten days steaming time.

The Director was also aware, however, that the submerged passage of submarines through the Indonesian archipelago contravened the 1958 Geneva Convention on the Territorial Sea and Contiguous Zone, which provided that vessels passing through territorial waters were only entitled to the right of ‘innocent passage’ which obliged the crew to navigate on the surface and show their country’s flag.

The PM dry-washed his partially disfigured face with hardened hands. The scars were a reminder of a time when he piloted a Hawker Hurricane and had crash-landed during the war against Japan. Gorton’s face had slammed against the gun sight and windscreen mutilating his nose and breaking both cheekbones. He thumbed open the ‘OYSTER’ report Andersen had wished to discuss.

‘Are the Americans aware of our incursions?’

Andersen shook his head. ‘They don’t have any assets in New Guinea. Besides, even if it did become known that our Special Forces crossed into West Irian we would merely shrug it off as the delineation of the border is far from clear to either side.’ Andersen moved to reassure. ‘And we have a legitimate reason for our troops to be stationed in the New Guinea highlands. Apart from our UN responsibility to provide New Guinea with defence and security, it’s a perfect environment to train our men in jungle warfare, and preparation for their Vietnam deployment.’

‘And what about those engagements between our troops and the Indonesians?’ the PM wanted to know. Typically, Gorton was seeking confirmation of what he had been told by the Chief of Army.

‘Nothing that’s been relayed through our people in Jakarta,’ Andersen reassured. The SAS troopers operated under the strictest guidelines. Should Indonesian forces be caught crossing into New Guinea then they were dealt with expeditiously, their bodies buried deep in the jungle. In the event of any Australian casualties inside Indonesian territory, wounded or dead, bodies were never left behind to avoid the potential for political fallout.

* * * *

Having returned to his office, Director Andersen sat alone quietly chewing over the dramatic shift in Australia’s policy towards Indonesia since General Suharto had seized power, acknowledging that Canberra’s about face over West Irian to support Jakarta was in Australia’s long-term interests.

Andersen accepted the premise that whoever controlled New Guinea and West New Guinea had the capacity to greatly influence the security of shipping to Australian ports, this consideration soon to become paramount with New Guinea’s independence to be granted in five years. He had read his agents’ reports from Jakarta expressing the Indonesian military’s concerns that New Guinea would become a hotbed of rebel, if not communist activity, once independence had been achieved.

Andersen appreciated Indonesia’s tendency to suspect the West’s motives from a historical perspective. Jakarta secretly resented the United States and had done so dating back to when the Eisenhower Administration, obsessed with the eradication of the Indonesian Communist Party, had decided to attack and invade with the support of rebels in Sumatra and Sulawesi. The United States had provided funds, weapons, training and backed by the Seventh Fleet with air support out of the Philippines, had moved to overthrow the Sukarno regime. Incredibly, the plan failed. Then, in the following eight years, six US-sponsored assassination attempts made on President Sukarno left no doubt as to the Americans’ determination to expand their sphere of influence, displacing the British and French across SE Asia.

* * * *