COMMENTARY: By Laurens Ikinia in Jakarta

The island of Papua is a land of profound paradox. Beneath its ancient, cathedral-like forests and within its mineral-rich mountains lies a narrative of staggering contrast.

It is a place where immense natural wealth exists alongside some of Indonesia’s most acute human development challenges.

This dissonance poses a central riddle: why does a land of such abundance host populations grappling with persistent poverty, gaps in education and healthcare, and a deep sense of political marginalisation?

A principle found in Papuan wisdom offers a starting point: the past is a mirror for gazing upon tomorrow.

To understand Papua’s present and navigate its future, we must look honestly into that mirror. Yet, when the reflection shows recurring patterns of inequality and unfulfilled promises, we are compelled to ask what kind of future is being built.

The story of Papua is not merely one of resources; it is fundamentally about people, their rights, and their place within the Indonesian nation.

This reflection need not occur in isolation. Looking east across the Pacific, two nations — Australia and New Zealand — have embarked on their own complex, painful, and unfinished journeys of reconciling with their Indigenous peoples.

Their experiences are not blueprints, but they offer invaluable mirrors in which Indonesia might glimpse reflections of its own challenges and potential pathways forward.

The central, reflective question is this: Amidst Indonesia’s unique historical and political complexity, is there room to learn from these Pacific neighbours? Can Jakarta find a distinctive, yet equally courageous, path to reconciliation with Papua?

Unsettled foundation: A history demanding to be heard
Any discussion of Papua must begin by acknowledging the fractured foundation upon which its relationship with Jakarta is built. Unlike New Zealand, where the Treaty of Waitangi (1840) provides a contested but acknowledged founding document for Crown-Māori relations, Indonesia and Papua have no mutually agreed foundational treaty.

Papua’s integration was solidified through the Act of Free Choice (Pepera) in 1969, a process whose legitimacy remains internationally debated and is remembered with bitterness by many Papuans.

This unresolved historical grievance is the DNA of the conflict. It infects every policy, fuels distrust, and allows security-centric approaches to dominate.

Jakarta’s apparent reluctance to engage in open, high-level dialogue about this history keeps the wound open. New Zealand’s experience, though painful and expensive, demonstrates that confronting a dark past is not a threat to national unity, but a prerequisite for building a common future on a clearer moral and legal foundation.

The first lesson from the Pacific is that sustainable solutions cannot be built on unacknowledged history.

The Australian mirror: Pillars of incremental recognition
Australia’s relationship with its Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples represents a protracted and painful journey from the brutal realities of colonisation toward a fragile, imperfect process of recognition and repair.

The historical backdrop is one of profound trauma, marked by dispossession, assimilation policies, and the devastating legacy of the Stolen Generations. Yet, in recent decades, a discernible — though inconsistent — policy shift has emerged, built upon several key pillars that provide a structured, if unfinished, framework for addressing historical wrongs.

These pillars offer critical points of comparison for other contexts, such as that of West Papua under Indonesian administration, illuminating stark contrasts in both philosophy and outcome.

Political recognition: From absence to acknowledgment
The 1967 Referendum, which allowed Aboriginal people to be counted in the census and gave the federal government power to make laws for them, stands as a symbolic turning point in Australian political consciousness. Today, the lexicon of recognition is embedded in official discourse, with terms like “First Nations People” and “Traditional Custodians” routinely used in parliamentary speeches and public ceremonies.

The establishment of the National Indigenous Australians Agency (NIAA) represents a systematic, though often criticised, effort to coordinate policy across government. This reflects a tangible, if uneven, move toward recognising Aboriginal peoples not merely as citizens, but as original inhabitants with a unique historical and cultural status deserving of specific acknowledgment.

Papuan Special Autonomy: Otsus in stark contrast
In stark contrast, Jakarta’s primary instrument for Papua is Special Autonomy (Otsus), a policy centered on fiscal transfers and nominal political affirmation. While Otsus mandates native Papuan leadership in provincial governments, its essence is consistently stifled by centralised security policies, the dominance of national political parties, and the imposition of territorial divisions with minimal deep consultation.

Consequently, Otsus feels less like a partnership born of genuine historical recognition and more like a technical administrative concession granted — and tightly controlled — from the centre. The core Papuan struggle remains one for existential recognition: an acknowledgment of their distinct identity as Indigenous peoples with inherent political rights, rather than merely as beneficiaries of state-administered policy.

Economic rights: Land and resource sovereignty
Australia’s Native Title Act of 1993 was a revolutionary legal development, overturning the doctrine of terra nullius and recognising the persistence of Aboriginal traditional ownership and connection to land. Although the claims process is notoriously arduous and contested, it has resulted in the return of millions of hectares of land.

Complementing this are land handback programmes and innovative co-management models for national parks and cultural sites, such as Uluru-Kata Tjuta.

Furthermore, nascent royalty-sharing schemes from mining on Indigenous-held land aim to provide an independent economic base, positioning communities not as passive recipients but as stakeholders with property rights.

The contrast with Papua is profound. The region functions as Indonesia’s primary economic engine, with megaprojects like the Freeport copper and gold mine and the Tangguh LNG facility driving national exports. Yet, this extractive model is intensely centralised, with profits flowing to Jakarta and global corporate headquarters while Indigenous communities near these operations often live in stark deprivation.

Otsus funds, while substantial, are funneled through government mechanisms and do not alter this fundamental, exploitative structure. Critically, Papuan customary land rights (hak ulayat) are routinely overridden by state-issued business permits. There exists no large-scale, legally empowered mechanism for reparations or asset restitution to Papuan tribes, leaving them economically marginalised on their own land.

Social policy: Closing the gap
Since 2008, Australia has formally adopted the Closing the Gap Strategy, a framework establishing specific, measurable targets for improving Indigenous life outcomes in health, education, and employment.

This strategy represents an explicit, if imperfect, admission that historical marginalization requires targeted, accountable, and data-driven intervention by the state. It acknowledges a collective responsibility to address disparities directly, even as critiques of its implementation and pace persist.

Indonesia lacks an equivalent national policy framework specifically tailored to address Papua’s acute and unique disparities. Development indicators and programs are largely standardized, failing to account for Papua’s distinct geography, history, and cultural context. As a result, health and education systems suffer from severe infrastructure deficits, critical staffing shortages, and a curriculum that ignores local knowledge.

Maternal mortality and malnutrition rates remain among the highest in Southeast Asia. The fundamental gap lies in agency: for meaningful progress, Papuans must be transformed from objects of development into its active, designing subjects.

Cultural recognition: Beyond symbolism
In Australia, Aboriginal cultural expression has increasingly moved beyond tokenism toward a more integrated, though still contested, national presence. Indigenous languages are being documented and revitalised, customary law receives limited recognition within the justice system, and Aboriginal art is celebrated as central to the nation’s identity.

The practice of acknowledging Traditional Custodians at the outset of official events, while symbolic, performs a daily act of cognitive recognition.

In Papua, the situation is different. The region’s stunning cultural diversity, encompassing over 250 distinct languages, is often treated as an intangible treasure or tourist asset rather than a living foundation for governance.

Local languages are not mediums of formal instruction, and customary norms are easily overridden by narratives of national unity and acculturation. While Papuan art and ritual are occasionally showcased, they are seldom integrated into substantive policymaking for cultural preservation and transmission, leaving this profound heritage vulnerable to erosion.

New Zealand mirror: A framework for courageous reconciliation
If Australia demonstrates a fitful journey toward recognition, New Zealand presents a more advanced, treaty-based model of reconciliation. The 1840 Treaty of Waitangi, despite its contested translations and history of breaches, is the accepted foundational document of the modern state. This has provided a crucial platform for building concrete mechanisms to address historical grievances and partnership.

The Waitangi Tribunal and reparations
Established in 1975, the Waitangi Tribunal is a permanent commission of inquiry that investigates Crown actions alleged to breach the Treaty’s principles. Its recommendations have fueled a massive, ongoing process of historical settlement involving land restitution, financial compensation, and formal Crown apologies.

This process, while not without controversy, provides a formal channel for redressing historical wrongs and transferring resources back to Māori iwi (tribes).

Guaranteed political voice
Māori have had dedicated parliamentary seats since 1867, ensuring a direct voice in the national legislature. This has been complemented by the rise of a dedicated Te Pati Māori political party and the establishment of the Ministry for Māori Development (Te Puni Kōkiri), which advocates for Māori interests within the government apparatus.

This structural presence ensures that Indigenous perspectives are embedded in political discourse.

Biculturalism as national policy
Biculturalism is woven into New Zealand’s institutional fabric. Te reo Māori is an official language, supported by Māori-language immersion schools (Kura Kaupapa Māori), a dedicated television channel (Māori Television), and prominent university faculties.

The national curriculum incorporates Māori history, knowledge, and perspectives, fostering a broader public understanding.

Comparison with Papua
For Papua, the absence of any such foundational agreement or framework leaves a profound vacuum. There is no equivalent to the Waitangi Tribunal to investigate historical grievances or restore resources.

Politically, there are no guaranteed mechanisms for Papuan representation at the national level in Indonesia. Socio-culturally, while Papua’s languages are celebrated in folkloric terms, there is no nationally broadcast, Papuan-led television channel or a system of dedicated higher education institutes focused on Melanesian studies and leadership.

New Zealand’s lesson is the transformative power of a framework — however contested — that creates institutional channels for grievance, voice, and cultural revitalization.

Deep Pacific connection: Why New Zealand cares
New Zealand’s sustained attention on Papua transcends standard diplomatic concern; it is rooted in profound connections that resonate deeply with the New Zealand public and polity, creating a unique sense of obligation.

First, a demographic kinship creates relatability: New Zealand’s population of approximately 5.1 million is nearly equivalent to the population of Indonesia’s six Papuan provinces (around 5.6 million). This similar scale makes the challenges faced by Papuans feel immediate and comprehensible.

More profoundly, there are undeniable historical and anthropological links. Scientific research in population genetics traces Polynesian ancestry, including that of Māori, back through Melanesia.

Culturally, the social structures of Papuan highlands tribes, with their complex clan and confederation systems, closely mirror the traditional Māori hapu (clan) and iwi (tribe) organisations. Similarities extend to concepts of customary governance, spirituality, and reciprocal exchange, suggesting shared ancestral roots.

This connection is cemented by modern history. Papuan people provided crucial aid to Australian and New Zealand troops during the Pacific War in thd Second World War. Furthermore, as documented by historians like Maire Leadbeater, New Zealand was indirectly involved in the territory’s mid-century fate, initially supporting Dutch efforts to prepare Papua for independence before acquiescing to the controversial Act of Free Choice that facilitated Indonesian integration.

For many New Zealanders, particularly Māori, advocating for Papuans is viewed as a Tangata Moana (People of the Ocean) responsibility — a moral, cultural, and spiritual call to support fellow Pacific indigenes facing adversity.

This deeply felt public and civic sentiment ensures the issue remains persistently alive in New Zealand’s parliament, churches, universities, and civil society, constantly applying pressure and challenging any government inclination toward a “business as usual” foreign policy approach toward Indonesia regarding Papua.

This unique solidarity, born of shared identity and history, makes New Zealand a distinct and vocal stakeholder in Papua’s ongoing struggle.

Forging a distinctive path: Strategic recommendations for Indonesia
Indonesia’s engagement with the Pacific region offers a reservoir of wisdom, yet the fundamental lesson is that adaptation, not adoption, is key. The nation’s immense diversity, complex history, and unique political architecture mean that solutions cannot be copy-pasted.

However, the perennial fear of national disintegration must not become a paralysing force that stifles the bold policy innovation required to address the root causes of discord, particularly in Papua. Moving beyond rhetorical commitments to tangible action demands significant political will and courage.

The following recommendations outline a potential pathway for transformative change, aiming to forge a new social contract built on justice, partnership, and genuine autonomy:

The journey must begin with a profound act of historical reckoning and political courage. The President should personally initiate a high-level National Reconciliation Framework for Papua.

This would be a landmark political initiative, potentially involving the establishment of an independent Papuan Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Its mandate must be coupled with an official, unambiguous state acknowledgment of past human rights violations.

This process would create a structured and equal dialogue platform, moving past cycles of recrimination. Addressing this historical wound is not an end in itself but a necessary precondition to cleanse the poisoned well of present-day interactions and build a foundation of trust for all subsequent reforms.

Concurrently, the policy of Special Autonomy must be radically reimagined. The concept of “Otsus Plus” should evolve from a mechanism of fiscal devolution into a genuine political and economic partnership. This entails granting local governments conditional veto rights over major investments affecting customary land (ulayat), ensuring development is not imposed but negotiated.

Furthermore, the legislative and cultural authority of the Papuan People’s Assembly (MRP) as the authentic voice of indigenous institutions must be constitutionally strengthened.

Finally, granting full autonomy over education and cultural policy, including locally relevant curricula and language instruction, is essential for preserving Papuan identity and fostering endogenous development.

True partnership is impossible without a fundamental restructuring of the economic model in Papua. The economy must shift from a centralised, extractive paradigm to one based on community sovereignty and benefit.

This requires legalising and strengthening customary land rights (hak ulayat) as a supreme legal principle, not a secondary consideration. Building on this, transparent and direct royalty-sharing mechanisms from natural resource projects must be established, ensuring proceeds flow to indigenous land-owning communities.

Complementing this, a Papuan-led “Closing the Gap” strategy with clear, measurable targets for health, education, and employment should be developed, with progress annually reported to the national parliament to ensure accountability.

Security and political representation form the twin pillars of stability and dignity. The prevailing security approach must be recalibrated to prioritise dialogue, community engagement, and human security over militarized confrontation. In parallel, to ensure Papuan voices are substantively embedded in national lawmaking, permanent seats for indigenous Papuan representatives should be constitutionally created in the Indonesian House of Representatives (DPR RI).

Following the precedent set for Aceh, this guaranteed political representation would ensure Papuan perspectives directly influence national legislation that affects their lives, transforming them from subjects of policy to active architects of their future within the Republic.

Finally, Indonesia should strategically reframe its external engagement regarding Papua. Rather than viewing the Pacific’s cultural and political solidarity with Melanesian Papuans as a point of friction, Indonesia should embrace it as an opportunity for cultural diplomacy.

By proactively encouraging and funding robust academic, cultural, and civil society exchanges between Papuan and Māori/Pacific Island communities, Indonesia can build powerful bridges of people-to-people understanding. This initiative would acknowledge shared heritage while showcasing Indonesia’s commitment to inclusive development, thereby transforming a diplomatic challenge into a channel for soft-power connection and regional leadership.

In conclusion, this pathway is neither simple nor quick, but it is necessary. It calls for a series of courageous, interconnected leaps from the status quo toward a system predicated on acknowledgment, partnership, and substantive self-determination.

By addressing historical grievances, redesigning autonomy, restructuring the economy, reforming security, guaranteeing political voice, and leveraging cultural diplomacy, Indonesia has the potential to resolve its most persistent internal conflict. The result would be a stronger, more unified nation, where stability is built not on force but on justice and the full recognition of its diverse peoples’ aspirations.

Hope for the Land of Papua
The fate of Papua is the ultimate test of Indonesia’s inclusive nationhood. It can no longer be managed through a narrow security lens or obscured by macroeconomic statistics. This is about people, identity, history, and a shared future.

Hope endures. It shines in the eyes of Papuan children, the dedication of local health workers and teachers, and the voices of community and religious leaders calling for peace. It is also present among those in Jakarta who recognise the need for a new approach.

Australia and New Zealand, with their colonial burdens, have begun their imperfect journeys. Indonesia, with its experience of resolving the Aceh conflict through dialogue, can do the same. The condition is a fundamental shift in perspective: seeing Papuans not as a problem to be managed, but as equal partners and full subjects of their own destiny within the Republic.

A just and prosperous Papua is not a threat to Indonesia. It would be the fulfilment of the nation’s founding ideals of unity in diversity, and the pinnacle of a truly inclusive national project.

The mirror from the Pacific shows both the depth of the challenge and the possibility of a different reflection. It is now a matter of choosing to look and having the courage to act.

Laurens Ikinia is a Papuan lecturer and researcher at the Institute of Pacific Studies, Indonesian Christian University, Jakarta. He is also an honorary member of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) in Aotearoa New Zealand and an occasional contributor to Asia Pacific Report.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The referendum on the indigenous Voice in Australia last Saturday was an historic event. Australians were asked to vote on whether to recognise Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as the First Peoples of Australia in the Constitution through an indigenous Voice.

The voters were asked to vote “yes” or “no” on a single question:

“A Proposed Law: to alter the Constitution to recognise the First Peoples of Australia by establishing an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice.

“Do you approve this proposed alteration?”

The Voice was proposed as an independent, representative body for First Nations peoples to advise the Australian Parliament and government, giving them a voice on issues that affect them.

Here are some key points:

• The proposal was to recognise Indigenous Australians in the Constitution by creating a body to advise Parliament, known as the “Voice”.
• The “Voice” would be an independent advisory body. Members would be chosen by First Nations communities around Australia to represent them.
• The “Voice” would provide advice to governments on matters relating to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, such as health, education, and housing, in the hope that such advice will lead to better outcomes.
• Under the Constitution, the federal government already has the power to make laws for Indigenous people. The “Voice” would be a way for them to be consulted on those laws. However, the government would be under no obligation to act on the advice.
• Indigenous people have called for the “Voice” to be included in the Constitution so that it can’t be removed by the government of the day, which has been the fate of every previous indigenous advisory body. It is also the way indigenous people have said they want to be recognised in the constitution as the First Nations with a 65,000-year connection to the continent — not simply through symbolic words.

It was necessary for a majority of voters to vote “yes” nationally, as well as a majority of voters in at least four out of six states, for the referendum to pass.

Unfortunately, it was rejected by the majority with more than 60 percent with the vote still being counted. In all six states and the Northern Territory, a “No” vote was projected.

According to the ABC, a majority of voters in all six states and the Northern Territory voted against the proposal.

New South Wales
81.2 percent counted, 1.81 million voted yes (40.5 percent) and 2.67M million voted no (59.5 percent).

Victoria
78.5 percent counted, 1.56 million voted yes (45.0 percent), and 1.91 million voted no (55.0 percent).

Tasmania
82.7 percent counted, 134,809 voted yes (40.5 percent), and 198,152 voted no (59.5 percent).

South Australia
79.1 percent counted, 355,682 voted yes (35.4 percent), 648,769 voted no (64.6 percent).

Queensland
74.3 percent counted, 835,159 voted yes (31.2 percent), 1.84 million voted no (68.8 percent).

Western Australia
75.3 percent counted, 495,448 voted yes (36.4 percent), and 866,902 voted no (63.6 percent).

Northern Territory
63.4 percent counted, 37,969 voted yes (39.5 percent), and 58,193 voted no (60.5 percent).

ACT
82.8 percent counted, 158,097 voted yes (60.8 percent), and 102,002 voted no (39.2 percent).

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has said the next steps after the failed Indigenous Voice to Parliament referendum are yet to be decided and called the expectation of having a plan just days after the vote “not respectful”.

For the latest news, visit: https://t.co/X6qtu24rNp pic.twitter.com/smgqgeV55Y

— SBS News (@SBSNews) October 17, 2023

In addition to being viewed as divisive along racial lines, concerns about how the Voice to Parliament would work (whether indigenous Australians would be given greater power) and uncertainties about how the new body would result in meaningful change for indigenous Australians contributed to the rejection.

Australia has held 44 referendums since its founding in 1901. However, the referendum on the Indigenous Voice to Parliament in 2023 was the first of its kind to focus specifically on Indigenous Australians.

As part of a broader push to establish constitutional recognition of Indigenous Australians, the Voice proposal was seen as a significant step towards reconciliation and was the result of decades of indigenous advocacy and work.

A key turning point came in 2017 when 250 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander delegates from across the country met at Uluru for the First Nations’ National Constitutional Convention. The proposal, known as the Voice, sought to recognise Indigenous people in Australia’s constitution and establish a First Nations body to advise the government on issues affecting their communities.

However, the Voice proposal was not unanimously accepted. In the course of the campaign, intense conflict and discussion ensued between supporters and opponents, resulting in what supporters viewed as a tragic outcome, while the victorious opponents celebrated their victory.

The support of Oceania’s indigenous leaders
Pacific Islanders expressed their views before the referendum on the Voice to Parliament.

Henry Puna, Secretary-General of the Pacific Islands Forum, said that Australia’s credibility would be boosted on the world stage if the yes vote won the Indigenous voice referendum. He stated that it would be “wonderful” if Australia were to vote yes, because he believed it would elevate Australia’s position, and perhaps even its credibility, internationally.

The former Foreign Minister of Vanuatu (nd current Climate Change Minister), Ralph Regevanu, warned Australia’s reputation would plummet among its allies in the Pacific if the Voice to Parliament was defeated.

These views indicate the potential impact of the voice referendum on Australia’s relationship with Pacific Island nations, which it often refers to as “its own backyard”.

The “No” camp claimed the Voice was an “elite” idea, that “real” Indigenous people didn’t want it, because Peter Dutton had spoken to “shoppers”. Even with the results, they still insist communities did not want one – taking away what little voice they gothttps://t.co/kWt0hjDHEC

— Rachel Withers (@rachelrwithers) October 17, 2023

Division, defeat and impact
A tragic aspect of the Voice proposal is the fact that not only were Australian settlers divided about it, but even worse, indigenous leaders themselves, who were in a position to bring together a fragmented and tormented nation, were at odds with each other — including full-on verbal wars in media.

While their opinions on the proposal were divided, some had practical and realistic ideas to address the problems faced by indigenous communities in remote towns. Others proposed a treaty between settlers and original indigenous people.

There are also those who advocate for a strong political recognition within the nation’s constitutional framework.

Despite these divisions among indigenous leaders, the referendum on Voice represents a significant milestone in the ongoing indigenous resistance that spans over 200 years.

It is a resistance that began on January 26, 1788, when the invasion began (Pemulwuy’s War), and continued through various milestones such as the 1937 Petition for citizenship, land rights, and representation, the 1938 Day of Mourning, the 1963 Yirrkala bark petitions, the 1965 Freedom Rides, and the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra in 1972.

It further extended to 1990-2005 with the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC), the 1991 Song Treaty by Yothu Yindi, Eddie Mabo overturning terra nullius in 1992, Kevin Rudd’s 2008 apology, and the Uluru Statement from the Heart until the recent defeat of the Voice Referendum in 2023.

A dangerous settlers’ myth and its consequences
The modern nation of Australia (aged 244 years) has been shaped by one of European myths: “Terra Nullius”, the Latin term for “nobody’s land”. This myth was used to describe the legal position at the time of British colonisation.

Accordingly, the land had been deemed as terra nullius, which implies that it had belonged to no one before the British Crown declared sovereignty over it.

Eddy Mabo: A Melanesian Hero
An indigenous Melanesian, Eddy Mabo, overturned this myth in 1992, known as “the Mabo Case,” which recognised the land rights of the Meriam people and other indigenous peoples.

The Mabo Case resulted in significant changes in Australian law in several areas. One of the most notable changes was the overturning of the long-standing legal fiction of “terra nullius,” which posited that Australia was unpopulated (no man’s land) at the time of British colonisation.

In this decision, the High Court of Australia recognized the legal rights of Indigenous Australians to make claims to lands in Australia. It marked a historic moment, as it was the first time that the law acknowledged the traditional rights of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. In addition, the Mabo Case contributed directly to the establishment of the Native Title Act in 1993.

Even though these changes are significant, debates persist regarding the state of indigenous Australians under colonial settlement.

Indigenous Affairs reporter Isabella Higgins says the No victory in the Indigenous Voice to Parliament Referendum could change the way Indigenous Australians will want to interact with the rest of the country going forward. pic.twitter.com/g5CxBaU0Op

— ABC News (@abcnews) October 15, 2023

Indigenous leaders need to see a big picture
The recent referendum on the Voice sparked heated debates on a topic that has long been a source of contention: the age-old battle of “my country versus your country, my mob versus your mob, I know best versus you know nothing.”

While it’s important to celebrate and protect cultural diversity and the unique perspectives it brings, it’s equally important to recognise that British settlers didn’t just apply the myth of terra nullius to a select few groups or regions — they applied it to all areas inhabited by indigenous peoples, treating them as a single, homogenous entity.

This means that any solution to indigenous issues must be rooted in a collective, unified voice, rather than a patchwork of fragmented groups.

Indigenous leaders need to prioritise the creation of a unified front among themselves and mobilise their people before seeking support from Australians. Currently, they are engaging in competition, outdoing each other, and fighting over the same issue on mainstream media platforms, indigenous-run media platforms, and social media.

This approach is reminiscent of the “divide, conquer, and rule” strategy that the British effectively employed worldwide to expand and maintain their dominion. This strategy has historically caused harm to indigenous nations worldwide, and it is now harming indigenous people because their leaders are fighting among themselves.

It is important to note that this does not imply a rejection of every distinct indigenous language group, clan, or tribe. However, it is crucial to recognise that indigenous peoples throughout Oceania were viewed through a particular European lens, which scholars refer to as “Eurocentrism”.

This “lens” is a double-edged sword, providing semantic definition and dissection power while also compartmentalising based on a hierarchy of values. Melanesians and indigenous Australians were placed at the bottom of this hierarchy and deemed to be of no historical or cultural significance.

This realisation is of utmost importance for the collective attainment of redemption, unity and reconciliation.

The larger Australian indigenous’ cause
From Vasco Núñez de Balboa’s momentous crossing of the Isthmus of Panama to Ferdinand Magellan’s pioneering Spanish expedition across the Pacific Ocean in 1521, and Abel Janszoon Tasman’s remarkable exploration of Tasmania, Australia, New Zealand, and Fiji, to James Cook’s renowned voyages in the Pacific Ocean between 1768 and 1779, the indigenous peoples of Oceania have endured immense suffering and torment as a consequence of the European scramble for these territories.

The indigenous peoples of Oceania were forever scarred by the merciless onslaught of European maritime marauders. When the race for supremacy over these unspoiled regions unfolded, their lives were shattered, and their communities torn asunder.

The web of life in Australia and Oceania was severely disrupted, devalued, rejected, and subjected to brutality and torment as a result of the waves of colonisation that forcefully impacted their shores.

The colonisers imposed various racial prejudices, civilising agendas, legal myths, and the Discovery doctrine, all of which were conceived within the collective conceptual mindset of Europeans and applied to the indigenous people.

These actions have had a lasting and fatalistic impact on the collective indigenous population in Australia and Oceania, resulting in dehumanisation, enslavement, genocide, and persistent marginalisation of their humanity, leading to unwarranted guilt for their mere existence.

The European collective perception of Oceania, exemplified by the notion of terra nullius, has resulted in numerous transgressions of indigenous laws, customs, and cosmologies, affecting every aspect of life within the entire landscape. These violations have led to the loss of land, destruction of language, erasure of memories, and imposition of British customs.

Furthermore, indigenous peoples were forcibly relocated to concentration camps, missions, and reserves.

The Declaration received support from a total of 144 countries, with only four countries (which have historically displaced indigenous populations through settler occupation) voting against it — Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States.

However, all four countries subsequently reversed their positions and endorsed the Declaration. It should be noted that while the Declaration does not possess legal binding force, it does serve as a reflection of the commitments and responsibilities that states have under international law and human rights standards.

The challenges and concerns confronting indigenous communities are undeniably more severe and deplorable than the current “yes or no” referendum. It is imperative for the entire nation, including indigenous leaders, to acknowledge the profound extent of the Indigenous human tragedy that extends beyond the divisive binary.

Old and new imperial vultures
Similar to the European vultures that once encircled Oceania centuries ago, partitioned its territories, subjugated its people, conducted bomb experiments, and eradicated its population in Tasmania, the present-day vultures from the Eastern and Western regions exhibit comparable behaviours.

It is imperative for indigenous leaders hailing from Australia, Melanesia, Polynesia, and Micronesia to unite and demand that the colonial governments be held responsible for the multitude of crimes they have perpetrated.

Message to divided indigenous leaders
Simply assigning blame to already fragmented, tormented, and highly marginalised Indigenous communities, and endeavouring to empower them solely through a range of government handouts and community-based development programs, will not be adequate.

Because the trust between indigenous peoples and settlers has been shattered over centuries of abuse, deeply impacting the core of Indigenous self-image, dignity, and respect.

My personal experience in remote indigenous communities
I am a Papuan who came to Australia over 20 years ago to study in the remote NSW town of Bourke. I lived, studied, and worked at a small Christian College called Cornerstone Community.

During my time there, I was adopted by the McKellar clan of the Wangkumara Tribe in Bourke and worked closely with indigenous communities in Bourke, Brewarrina, Walgett, Cobar, Wilcannia, and Dubbo.

Unfortunately, my experiences in these places left me traumatised.

These communities have become so broken. I found myself succumbing to depression as a result of the distressing experiences I witnessed. It dawned upon me being “blackfella” — Papuan indigenous descent — was and still consistently subjected to similar mistreatment regardless of location.

This realisation instilled within me a sense of guilt for my own identity, as I was constantly made feel guilty of who I was. Tragically, a significant number of the young indigenous whom I endeavoured to aid and guide through diverse community and youth initiatives have either been incarcerated or committed suicide.

West Papua, my home country, is currently experiencing a genocide due to the Indonesian settler occupation, which is supported by the Australian government. This is similar to what indigenous Australians have endured under the colonial system of settlers.

Indigenous Australians in every region, town, and city face a complex and diverse set of issues, which are unique, tragic, and devastating. These issues are a result of how the settler colony interacted with them upon their arrival in the country.

Nevertheless, the indigenous people were not subjected to centuries of abuse and mistreatment solely based on their tribal affiliations. Rather, they were targeted by the settler government as a collective, disregarding the diversity among indigenous groups.

This included the indigenous people from Oceania, who have endured dehumanisation and racism as a result of colonisation.

It is imperative to acknowledge that the resolution of these predicaments cannot be attained by a solitary leader representing a particular group. The indigenous leaders need a unified vision and strategy to combat these issues.

All indigenous individuals across the globe, including Australia, New Zealand, Oceania, and West Papua, are afflicted by the same affliction. The only distinguishing factor is the degree of harm inflicted by the virus, along with the circumstances surrounding its occurrence.

A statement from Indigenous Australians who supported the Voice referendum. https://t.co/UlW2kvd9oa pic.twitter.com/1159uz3bxk

— ulurustatement (@ulurustatement) October 15, 2023

A paradigm shift
Imagine a world where indigenous peoples in Australia and Oceania reclaim their original languages and redefine the ideas, myths, and behaviours displayed on their land with their own concepts of law, morality, and cosmology. In this world, I am confident that every legal product, civilisational idea, and colonial moral code applied to these peoples would be deemed illegal.

It is time to empower indigenous voices and perspectives and challenge the oppressive systems that have silenced them for far too long.

Commence the process of renaming each island, city, town, mountain, lake, river, valley, animal, tree, rock, country, and region with their authentic local languages and names, thereby reinstating their original significance and worth.

However, in order to accomplish this, it is imperative that indigenous communities are granted the necessary authority, as it is ultimately their power that will reinforce such transformation. This power does not solely rely on weapons or monetary resources, but rather on the determination to preserve their way of life, restore their self-image, and demand the recognition of their dignity and respect.

Last Saturday’s No Vote tragedy wasn’t just about the majority of Australians rejecting it. It was a heartbreaking moment where indigenous leaders, who should have been united, found themselves fiercely divided.

Accusations were flying left and right, targeting each other’s backgrounds, positions, and portfolios. This bitter divide ended up gambling away any chance of redemption and reconciliation that had reached such a high national level.

It was a devastating blow to the hopes and aspirations for a better world for one of the most disadvantaged originals continues human on this ancient timeless continent — Australia.

Yamin Kogoya is a West Papuan academic who has a Master of Applied Anthropology and Participatory Development from the Australian National University and who contributes to Asia Pacific Report. From the Lani tribe in the Papuan Highlands, he is currently living in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz