|
February 2000 East
Timor: A First-Hand Account |
|
Following the vote for independence in East Timor last August the Indonesian Army and pro-Jakarta militias unleashed a wave of destruction and violence against the local Timorese population. Reports of atrocities filtered out, leading many journalists and international observers to believe that wide-scale breaches of international humanitarian law had been committed. While no one disputes that there was significant bloodshed during the convulsion of violence in East Timor, governments and international organizations have put forth dramatically different figures relating to the number of victims. The most striking discrepancy is apparent in the immense gap between estimates of the death toll. Some international agencies placed the total as high as 7,000, while U.S. officials estimate the number at 500.
Following several months of investigation, an Indonesian human rights panel recently accused top military officials of involvement in crimes against humanity. Indeed, as early as last fall UN Secretary General Kofi Annan threatened trials for crimes against humanity in order to demand permission for peacekeepers to enter East Timor; and earlier this month the United Nations issued a report calling for an international tribunal to try military and militia leaders for the violence in East Timor. Indonesian military leaders implicated in the mayhem are resisting investigation. Recently key Indonesian generals hinted that further probing by civilian authorities might spark a military coup.
Along with other journalists, United Nations personnel and some
two-thousand Timorese refugees, Jose Vegar, senior correspondent
for Expresso, a leading Portuguese weekly, found himself
trapped in the United Nations's compound in Dili, the capital of
East Timor. He provides an account of his harrowing days in Dili
and provides here his view of what transpired in East Timor during
the chaos that followed the vote for independence.
The United Nations mission in East Timor that organized the "electoral consultation" on August 30 had just announced results of the referendum: the East Timorese people voted by an overwhelming margin of three to one in favor of independence. But this historic election success did not translate into a joyous public celebration; not a single person was visible on the capital's main avenue. Having regularly experienced the intimidating hand of Indonesian security forces during twenty-five years of occupation, the people of East Timor, sensing a response from the authorities, were already going into hiding. It was in fact at 11:00pm on September 4, when the nightmare began. For us it started as militia groups attacked the Hotel Makota, which housed nearly all the foreign journalists covering events in East Timor. As other journalists and I frantically tried to determine what was happening, we heard reports of widespread destruction around the country, the deportation of Timorese civilians and assassinations of members of the National Council of Timorese Resistance (NCTR). These reports, if accurate, meant that the notorious "Plan B", allegedly conceived by some of the Indonesian Army's highest ranking figures, including General Zacky Anwar and Colonel Toro Suratman, was already in operation. UN sources, NGO representatives and others in East Timor spoke of the two contingencies for which the Indonesian Army had prepared. "Plan A" was devised in the event of a no vote on independence; "Plan B" would be triggered if the East Timorese voted in favor of independence. The following day it became clear that our safety in the hotel could no longer be assured by the authorities. Escorted by personnel from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), we made the trip across town to the United Nations headquarters. Shortly before reaching our destination, we were stopped by local police, who, pointing guns at our heads, demanded to know our business. After convincing them that we were part of the UN mission, we were permitted to proceed. Upon our arrival at the UN headquarters, we saw over 700 mission officials standing in disbelief, scattered throughout the compound's courtyard. Inside the compound, we could hear machine-gun fire in the streets and see smoke billowing above the city. Some 2,000 terrorized East Timorese civilians had sought refuge in the UN headquarters, many having been guided into the compound by the gunfire sprayed around them by Indonesian soldiers in control of the area. Later that afternoon, the first members of the UNAMET mission began their evacuation from Dili. UNAMET spokesperson David Wimhurst explained to us that the Indonesian Army wanted to provoke the Falintil, the Timorese guerilla army, into striking back, thus igniting a blood bath. Under this scenario, the Army would then step in to show the world that it was the only institution capable of maintaining peace and order in Timor. By Sunday, September 5, "Plan B" was already in full swing and, as we understood it at the time, most of the Army's objectives had been achieved. International organizations, including the Red Cross and Care, were being evacuated from Dili. UNAMET, which had abandoned the outlying areas and gathered all of its personnel at the UN headquarters in Dili, was now making arrangements for its mission to leave East Timor all together. Moreover, almost every journalist had been evacuated. Only about a dozen or so remained, among them four Portuguese, four Australians, three Dutch and one British stringer. From the compound I was able to communicate via cell phone with East Timorese priests and members of the NCTR hiding in the mountains outside Dili. Military staff at UNAMET, who had traveled to West Timor to conduct a field assessment, confirmed portions of what my Timorese contacts told me. These officials reported seeing widespread destruction and evidence of mass deportations. East Timorese had apparently been herded onto trucks and deposited in West Timor, which is under the control of pro-Jakarta militias. UNAMET military advisers told us that Dili was largely destroyed and that most of the local population had fled or been expelled. I saw the deserted and devastated city myself when I left the city several days later. Since the time of the rampages, a UN Transitional Administration has been established in East Timor (UNTAET) and investigations have begun to determine more precisely the numbers of people killed and deported--and who exactly should be held accountable. Francois Fouinat, director of the Asia and Pacific Bureau for the UNHCR, has indicated that the original estimates of more than a quarter million East Timorese refugees crossing the border to West Timor were too high. At the same time, authorities are reportedly having a difficult time finding evidence of murder on the scale claimed by international agencies during the destruction. Despite the discrepancies between earlier reports from human rights agencies and the more recent ongoing investigations, the human rights panel established in Jakarta has found sufficient evidence to charge key Indonesian military officials with a host of crimes. Included among these are allegations of torture, kidnapping, rape, forced evacuations, wanton destruction and mass killings. Investigators face an enormous obstacle in the form of the Indonesian military establishment. From the outset, the military has sought to shield itself from investigation; it remains to be seen whether this powerful institution's obduracy can be overcome. The highly charged task of investigating politically powerful military figures leaves open the question of whether local authorities will be capable of credibly dispensing justice. The Indonesian attorney general has not indicated whether prosecutors will bring any charges based on the findings of the human rights panel. Meanwhile, the United Nations has called for an international tribunal to adjudicate matters relating to the rampaging in East Timor. UN Secretary General Annan set the bar at the level of crimes against humanity last fall when Indonesian authorities were resisting the introduction of a UN peacekeeping force into East Timor. It may well have been the Secretary General's threat of war crimes charges against perpetrators of atrocities in East Timor that caused Indonesia's military and political leadership to relent in its opposition to deployment of the UN force, thereby permitting the first step toward establishing accountability. Jose Vegar covers defense issues for Expresso, one of Portugal's leading daily newspapers. Vegar has reported from numerous war zones, including Rwanda, former Yugoslavia and East Timor. His investigative reporting has focused on chemical and biological terrorism, the international clandestine weapons trade and child soldiers.
|
