Declining population in West Papua, and critical loss of life through clashes with the Indonesia military raise the question of genocide in a new book by Brisbane writer Dr Greg Poulgrain.

This work, Curse of Gold, published in English by Kompas, as the title indicates traces the roots of subjugation going on in West New Guinea (West Papua) to a cynical grabbing for resources. An Indonesian language edition is forthcoming.

The book is a history beginning with the discovery of huge deposits of gold in 1936, deposits more than twice the gold being mined at Witwatersrand, together with discovery of oil just off-shore.

The principal mine now, with an Indonesian billionaire as main owner, has 560 km of tunnels and produces 50 tonnes of gold annually.

The existence of the gold was kept secret, awaiting investment and development opportunities, held up by war with the Japanese, known just to Dutch interests, the Japanese, and significant for the future, the Rockefeller petroleum company Standard Oil in the United States.

The writer details the operation of a “Third Force” in a chain of political intrigues and manipulation over a half century: the US company, sometimes officers of the US government, and at all times an early player since the first discovery, Allen Dulles, who came to head-up the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

Dulles as the lawyer for Standard Oil had already got a petroleum concession in Netherlands New Guinea before 1936, through forming a joint US-Dutch company with majority US interest.

Heyday of CIA operations
In the 1950s heyday of CIA undercover operations across the “Third World”, Dulles is depicted here manipulating political events in Indonesia, whether spreading disinformation, concealing information from governments, even setting up mysterious, destabilising armed skirmishes.

The objective given is always the same, to secure ownership of resources and a free hand for American commercial interests. At one point covert government help would be provided through some disingenuous work by Henry Kissinger as Secretary of State to Richard Nixon, and the always interventionist US Ambassador Marshall Green.

For people of West New Guinea the intriguing saga has been a catastrophe, seeing their rights, interests, existence and even human identity denied and ignored in the struggles over wealth and power.

The story is in two phases:

In wartime the occupying Japanese encouraged the Indonesian independence movement, as a block against any return to influence by European colonial powers, and naturally wanted Papuan resources themselves.

A Japanese intelligence operative, Nishijima Shigetada, familiar with the region, is given a key role. He had found out about the gold, and persuaded the Indonesian nationalists to include West New Guinea in their demands for a republic — the better to get the trove out of the hands of “colonial monopolies”.

The second phase of developments saw an ugly turn of events with the 1965 military coup in Indonesia, marked by large scale massacre across the country and coming to power of Suharto as President in 1967.

The new regime determined to build on the campaign by its predecessor, President Sukarno, to take over West New Guinea. In the calculus of Cold War rivalries, President John Kennedy had sought to keep him “on side” and the Russians provided guns and aid, in part to best their Chinese rivals.

Dutch gave in
The outcome was that the Dutch who had stayed on in the territory gave in to pressure and pulled out by the end of 1963. It was nominally then put under United Nations trusteeship until an “act of free choice” on independence.

But Indonesian forces moved in, violently put down any Papuan resistance, promulgated theories of an Indonesia Raya, a lost island empire to which all of New Guinea had belonged, and declared the decision on independence would be an issue of “staying” with Indonesia. Neither Kennedy nor Sukarno, who had planned to meet in 1964, is believed to have known about the gold in Papua.

Dr Poulgrain recounts the narrative of bullying and deception, including the sidelining of senior UN representatives, whereby the “act of free choice” became notoriously a series of managed gatherings, no plebiscite of the people ever countenanced. He argues that the “Third Party”, having helped to remove the Dutch, then moved in favour of its own preferred candidate, Suharto, no nationalist from the independence movement, a self-declared friend of US commerce and advocate for untrammelled investment:

“It could be argued that the fiery nationalism so characteristic of Sukarno, the tool that won him the right to enter the harbour of Soekarnopura (Jayapura) on board the Soviet warship renamed Irian, proved to be his own undoing. Under the mantle of Sukarno’s presidency, Indonesia ousted the Dutch from New Guinea, the goal of both Nishijima and the ‘Third Party’, finally bringing an end to the European colonial presence there.

“Only 30 months later, Sukarno was facing his own political demise …”

In case the reader considers this might all be a well-worn path, it should be emphasised there is new material and insight into the origins and enactment of cruelty, appropriation and dishonesty that became the pattern in Suharto’s New Order Indonesia and its captive provinces in West New Guinea.

It is a work of thoroughness and industry, especially where covert activity and actual conspiracy appears; extensive documentation has been provided making the case strong. Much of it is original material, such as diplomatic messaging obtained through libraries, and records of interviews or correspondence with leading figures, viz Nishijima or the former US Secretary of State Dean Rusk.

Well defended
The thesis of the book is consistently propounded and well defended:

“This book is about the ownership of the immense wealth of natural resources in Western New Guinea”.

The colonised inhabitants did not get that ownership or any just share of it, with bad consequences for their culture and welfare. It was a bad beginning in 1963 with Indonesia in a dominating frame of mind:

“Papuan culture is the antithesis of life in Java.”

Where the Dutch colonisers are characterised as a very small population hardly penetrating the hinterland, the Indonesians who took over from them have been aggressive with their industry building, immigration and military occupation.

Papuans today make up barely half the population of 5.4-million, steadily outstripped by arrivals. Population growth in the comparable country, Papua New Guinea, since independence in 1975 has been much stronger, now pushing towards 11-million.

• Curse of Gold, by Greg Poulgrain (Jakarta, Kompas, 2026). ISBN 978, ISBN 978 (PDF)

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Yet this global diplomatic posture raises a critical question: how credible is Indonesia’s claim to peace leadership while a prolonged humanitarian crisis continues in West Papua?

In late February 2026, Prabowo offered Indonesia’s services to mediate rising tensions involving the United States, Israel and Iran, even stating he was prepared to travel to Tehran if both parties agreed to dialogue.

The message was reinforced when former Indonesian vice-president Jusuf Kalla met Iran’s ambassador, Mohammad Boroujerdi, on 3 March 2026 to reiterate Indonesia’s readiness to facilitate diplomatic engagement.

In response, Iran publicly welcomed the gesture but tempered expectations.

Iranian officials insisted that any meaningful mediation must include condemnation of US and Israeli military actions, warning that diplomatic initiatives without political clarity may have limited effectiveness.

The exchange highlighted both Indonesia’s aspiration to play a larger diplomatic role and the complexities of international conflict mediation.

Peacebroker limitations
However, Indonesia’s attempt to position itself as a global peace broker has already faced significant limitations. In 2023, Prabowo proposed a peace plan for the war between Russia and Ukraine.

The proposal, which included controversial suggestions such as a demilitarised zone and a referendum in disputed territories, was quickly rejected by Ukrainian officials. The response exposed the limited influence of Indonesia’s mediation efforts in conflicts far beyond Southeast Asia.

While presenting himself internationally as a peacemaker, critics argue that Prabowo has largely paid lip service to human rights at home, particularly regarding the unresolved crisis in West Papua.

Indonesian protesters denounce US link over Iran war         Video: Al Jazeera

While Indonesia promotes its diplomatic role in international conflicts, violence and instability continue to affect civilians in West Papua.

On 11 February 2026, only weeks before Prabowo’s international mediation initiative gained attention, a small civilian aircraft operated by Smart Air came under gunfire shortly after landing at Korowai Batu airstrip in Boven Digoel, West Papua.

A spokesperson linked to the military wing of Free Papua Movement (TPNPB- OPM) later claimed responsibility for the attack, stating that the aircraft had allegedly been used to transport Indonesian security forces.

The roots of the crisis stretch back to the early 1960s, when Indonesia invaded and took control of the territory following the withdrawal of Dutch colonial administration.

Act of Free Choice controversy
The subsequent 1969 referendum, known as the Act of Free Choice, remains one of the most controversial political processes in modern Southeast Asian and South Pacific history.

Rather than a universal vote, approximately 1025 selected representatives voted under significant political and military pressure.

Many Papuans and international observers argue that the process failed to meet internationally recognized standards for self-determination. As a result, the legitimacy of the referendum continues to be contested, and its legacy remains a central grievance fueling decades of political resistance and armed conflict.

For many analysts and human rights advocates, the Papua conflict cannot simply be framed as a domestic security problem. Instead, it represents a protracted humanitarian and political crisis that has yet to find a comprehensive and inclusive resolution.

In this sense, the issue has become what some observers describe as a long-standing wound within the Indonesian state.

Such incidents highlight the tragic reality faced by ordinary Papuans, who often find themselves caught between military operations and Papuan resistance attacks.

Civilians bear the brunt of a conflict that has persisted for decades without meaningful political dialogue capable of addressing its underlying causes.

Rising internal displacement in West Papua
According to reports by human rights organisations and humanitarian groups, displacement in West Papua has increased significantly in recent years.

The number of internally displaced persons (IDPs) has risen dramatically, from roughly 55,000 at the end of 2023 to more than 103,000 by October 2025. Many displaced communities face severe shortages of food, healthcare, education, and basic security.

These figures reflect a broader systemic failure to protect civilians and provide sustainable solutions for affected communities. Despite decades of development initiatives and official rhetoric emphasising stability and prosperity in Papua, the lived reality for many residents remains defined by insecurity and displacement.

Prabowo’s own military history also continues to shape international perceptions of Indonesia’s human rights record. During the Indonesian occupation of East Timor between 1975 and 1999, Prabowo served as an officer in Indonesia’s elite special forces, Kopassus.

Human rights organisations have linked him to operations accused of abuses against civilians during that period.

Following the 1999 referendum that ultimately led to East Timor’s independence, the United Nations supported investigations into violence carried out by Indonesian-backed militias and security forces.

Although Prabowo was never tried or convicted by an international court, activists and some Timorese leaders have long argued that senior Indonesian officers should have faced deeper scrutiny.

Shaping of credibility
In international diplomacy, credibility is often shaped not only by external initiatives but also by a state’s domestic human rights record. When internal conflicts remain unresolved, claims to global moral leadership can face heightened scrutiny.

Prabowo was also involved in military operations in Papua during the 1990s. One of the most widely discussed incidents was the 1996 Mapenduma hostage crisis in the highlands of what is now Nduga Regency.

Human rights organisations have documented allegations of abuses committed by Indonesian security forces during that period.

Additional controversies have surrounded claims that aircraft bearing the emblem of the International Committee of the Red Cross were misused during operations. Such allegations, whether proven or not, continue to raise questions about adherence to international humanitarian law and contribute to lingering distrust among Papuan communities.

Taken together, these historical and contemporary dynamics create a sharp contrast between Indonesia’s global diplomatic ambitions and the unresolved realities within its own borders.

In international diplomacy, credibility is closely tied to domestic consistency.
It is difficult to advocate peace abroad while unresolved grievances and allegations of human rights violations persist at home.

For Indonesia, genuine leadership in global peacemaking would require more than diplomatic offers on the world stage. It would involve confronting the deeper structural issues underlying the conflict in West Papua.

Ensuring accountability
This would include ensuring accountability for past abuses, protecting civil liberties, and opening inclusive political dialogue that allows Papuans to meaningfully participate in shaping their own future.

Without such reforms, Indonesia’s peace diplomacy risks being perceived less as principled international engagement and more as a form of strategic public relations. The gap between Jakarta’s diplomatic rhetoric and the lived experiences of Papuan civilians remains stark.

Ultimately, Indonesia’s credibility as a global peacemaker will depend not only on its willingness to mediate conflicts abroad but also on its ability to address the long-standing humanitarian and political crisis within West Papua.

Until that gap is bridged, Indonesia’s aspirations for global diplomatic leadership will continue to face serious questions about legitimacy and moral authority.

The continued instability in West Papua also has broader regional implications for the Pacific, where several governments and civil society groups have increasingly raised concerns about the humanitarian situation faced by indigenous West Papuans.

Ali Mirin is a West Papuan from the Kimyal tribe in the highlands bordering the Star Mountains region of Papua New Guinea. He holds a Master of Arts in international relations from Flinders University in Adelaide, South Australia.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

West Papuan diaspora, academics, students and community activists warmly applauded the screening of the new investigative documentary, Pesta Badi (Pig Feast): Colonialism in our Time, in its pre-launch international premiere in New Zealand last night.

It was shown for the first time back in West Papua at the southeastern town of Merauke, which is centred in the vast denuded rainforest area featured in the film, and also in the capital Jayapura on Friday.

Dramatic footage of scenes of village resisters against the massive destruction of rainforest in one of the three largest “lungs of the world”, shipping of barge-loads of heavy machinery, vast swathes of forest scoured out for rice and palm oil plantations, and of a traditional “pig feast” — the first in a decade — gripped the audience from the opening minute.

This is the largest forest conversion project in modern history — turning 2.5 million ha of tropical forest into industrial plantations under the guise of “food security” and the “energy transition”.

“It is a powerful film, rich with data and stories drawn from the lived experiences of masyarakat adat [Indigenous people],” comments Dr Veronika Kanem, a New Zealand-based Papuan academic and researcher, who was at the premiere with a group of her students.

“The film is also grounded in research conducted by Yayasan Pusaka, along with other national and local organisations.” She is pleased that her home village Muyu is featured in the film.

The audience was also treated to Q&A session with the film director, Dandhy Dwi Laksono and producer Victor Mambor, an award-winning investigative journalist and founder of Jubi Media, who first visited New Zealand 12 years ago.

Documented collusion
Investigative filmmaker Laksono gained a reputation for his 2019 documentary Sexy Killers, released just before the Indonesian general election year and documented the collusion between the political establishment and the destructive coal mining industry.

He was arrested later that year over tweets he posted about state violence in Papua.

Laksono and Mambor, along with co-director Cipri Dale, make up a formidable investigative team.

The storytelling focuses on the experiences of five Papuans and their communities:

Yasinta Moiwend was startled when, on a quiet morning, a massive ship docked at her village pier. The vessel carried hundreds of excavators and was escorted by military forces.

It was the first convoy of 2000 heavy machines to arrive in Papua under a National Strategic Project for food production, palm-based biodiesel, and sugarcane bioethanol.

Yasinta, a Marind Anim woman in Merauke, never realised that her village had been chosen as the ground zero for what would become the largest forest conversion project in modern history.

Vincen Kwipalo, from the Yei community, was likewise shocked when his clan’s land was suddenly marked with a sign reading: “Property of the Indonesian Army.” Only later did he learn that the land had been seized for the construction of a military battalion headquarters, at the very moment when a sugarcane plantation company was also encroaching on his ancestral forest.

Red Cross Movement
Threatened by the same project, Franky Woro and the Awyu community in Boven Digoel erected giant crosses and indigenous ritual markers on their land.

Known as the Red Cross Movement, this form of resistance has spread among Indigenous groups across South Papua.

More than 1800 red crosses have been planted to confront corporations and the military—both physically and spiritually. Though a Christian symbol is central to the movement, local Church pastors condemned it as not part of the church.

Dr Kanem says the film could have explored why the Awyu and Marind people chose to use the red cross, a symbol strongly associated with Christian values?

“Why did they not use their own cultural attributes or symbols instead?” she adds.

Laksono says: “Pig Feast combines detailed field recordings with in-depth research to examine the power structures behind the operation.

“It exposes how government and corporate entities — collaborating with military and religious groups — advance international and national goals of ‘food security’ and ‘energy transition’ at the expense of Indigenous communities and landscapes.”

Multinational corporations
The documentary illustrates the networks of Indonesian elites, oligarchs, and multinational corporations that benefit from the project, providing a vivid depiction of the political ecology of Indonesian governance in Papua.

Pig Feast reveals how the system of colonialism remains intact today.

Asked at the screening how dangerous was the film making, Mambor described the hardships their small crew faced to “find the truth” under the noses of the Indonesian military.

He said they walked up to 17 km a day at times to get the exclusive footage obtained for the documentary.

International journalists are banned from West Papua and a 2019 resolution by the Pacific Islands Forum calling for the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights to visit West Papua to investigate allegations of human rights abuses has been ignored by Jakarta.

The film reveals how 10 companies — all owned by one family — gained the backing of three presidents.

The Jhonlin Group, owned by oligarch Andi Syamsuddin Arsyad (aka Haji Isam), ordered about 2000 excavators from Chinese company SANY, considered one of the largest orders of its kind in the world, to clear one million hectares.

‘Second thoughts’ on Gaza
Q&A moderator Dr David Robie, deputy chair of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN), notes the massive military involved in the operations in West Papua — as shown in the film — and how Israel has been counting on Indonesia forming “the backbone” of the planned “International Stabilisation Force” for the besieged Palestinian enclave of Gaza with about 8000 troops because of its experience in “suppressing rebellion”.

“However, since the start of the US-Israeli war on Iran it seems that Jakarta has now had second thoughts,” he said.

Indonesia has suspended all discussions on the so-called “Board of Peace” initiative launched by US President Donald Trump, citing the military escalation in the Middle East, reports Anadolu Ajansi.

Critics had argued that joining a council led by the Trump administration could undermine Indonesia’s longstanding support for the “free Palestinian” cause.

Indonesia’s Ulema Council, the country’s top Islamic scholar body, had also called for an immediate withdrawal from the Trump initiative.

The filmmakers and documetary will now go to Australia for screenings in Sydney, Melbourne and hopefully Brisbane.

West Papua updates
Earlier in the day, at a two-day West Papua Solidarity Forum at the University of Auckland, several speakers gave updates and an analysis on political and social developments in the repressed Melanesian region.

Among speakers were Papuan environmental campaigner for Pusaka Dorthea Wabiser, longtime Aotearoa and West Papua human rights campaigner Maire Leadbeater, Papuan cultural advocate Ronny Kareni , Hawai’ian academic Dr Emalani Case, Ngaruahine researcher Dr Arama Rata, PNG academic at Waikato University Nathan Rew, West Papuan scholar Kerry Tabuni, Green Party Pacific peoples and foreign affairs spokesperson Teanau Tuiono, and forum organiser Catherine Delahunty of the West Papua Action Tāmaki Makaurau and West Papua Action Aotearoa.

Viktor Yeimo, international spokesperson of the KNPB (National Committee for West Papua) and PRP (Papuan People’s Petition), and several Papuan community spokespeople shared messages by video link.

Yeimo spoke about how many students, activists, journalists, church leaders and communities of faith in West Papua faced risks when they spoke about justice and political rights.

“To ignite a large log, one must first find many small pieces [kindling],” he said. “Each piece alone cannot produce a great fire, but together they create enough heat to ignite something much larger.”

He said one pathway involved meaningful political reform within Indonesia, including stronger protection of Indigenous rights and genuine regional autonomy.

Another pathway involved inclusive political dialogue between the Indonesian government and legitimate representatives of Papuan society, like ULMWP (United Liberation Movement of West Papua).

A third pathway existed within international law, “it is the possibility of a self-determination process supervised by an international institution [such as the United Nations].”

He pointed to the progress of the self-determination processes of Bougainville and Kanak New Caledonia for example.

Yeimo said Papuans wanted to build a Pacific future “grounded in justice and solidarity”.

A Papuan rapper spoke on screen saying he wasn’t afraid of the repression of authorities, “but they seem to be afraid of me and my music.”

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Asia Pacific Report

A new documentary film on the devastating “ecocide” happening in West Papua will be screened as a world premiere at a weekend solidarity forum in Auckland Tāmaki Makaurau this weekend.

The 90min feature film, Pesta Babi (“Pig Feast”) — Colonialism In Our Time, produced by award-winning Papuan journalist Victor Mambor and directed by Dandhy Dwi Laksono, tells a story about the impact of the Indonesian government and military on the lives of thousands of Papuans trying to protect their rainforests from destruction.

It also relates the plight of thousands of internal refugees in the Melanesian region.

The peaceful resistance of local communities is revealed in the documentary as they face up to 54,000 Indonesian troops and large corporate entities make big profits at the expense of an ancient culture.

Dorthea Wabiser of the environmental and human rights group Pusaka, will speak on the deforestation and displacement of communities in the south-eastern district of Merauke  where Indonesia is destroying 2.5 million ha of rainforest for palm oil, sugar cane, biodiesel, rice and other crops.

Military force is deployed to silence any dissent from communities.

Pesta Babi (Pig Feast).                              Trailer: Jubi Media

Solidarity group hosts
The solidarity group West Papua Action Aotearoa with West Papua Action Tāmaki are hosting the two-day public forum on March 7 and 8 with the speakers from West Papua including environmental champions and filmmakers who operate in militarised zones at considerable risk to their personal safety.

Also, a media talanoa featuring Jubi Media founder Victor Mambor and others will be hosted by the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) at the Whānau Community Centre and Hub on March 9.

“The forum is an important event with a number of speakers and filmmakers from West Papua telling the hidden stories of the Indonesian occupation of their country,” said organiser Catherine Delahunty.

The climate impact of their destruction was incredibly serious as was the use of the military to enforce an end to traditional life, food sources, and forests, she said in a statement.

“These people are our Pacific neighbours with a devastating story to tell that our government and others across the world have chosen to ignore,” she said.

“They have a right to come here and to be heard despite the media bans in Indonesia and the desire of successive New Zealand governments to ignore structural genocide in our region.

NZ citizen kidnapped
“Only when a NZ citizen was kidnapped by Papuan soldiers did the government show any interest in West Papua, and this quickly faded once he was safely released thanks especially to West Papuan efforts.”

Other speakers at the forum include veteran activist and writer Maire Leadbeater, Green MP Teanau Tuiono, Hawai’an academic Dr Emalani Case, journalist and author Dr David Robie, Dr Arama Rata of Te Kuaka, and PNG academic Dr Nathan Rew.

• Forum Day One (public sessons), Saturday, March 7:  Old Choral Hall, University of Auckland, 7 Symonds St,  9am–4pm.
• World Premiere of “Pesta Babi” (The Pig Feast) documentary with Q&A – The Academy Cinema, Lorne St, CBD (below the Auckland Public Library), March 7, 6-8.30pm.
• Forum Day Two (solidarity development), Sunday, March 8: The Taro Patch, 9 Dunnotar Rd, Papatoetoe.
• Media Talanoa, Monday, March 9: “Kōrero with Victor Mambor: West Papua: Journalism as Resistance” – Whānau Community Centre and Hub, 165 Stoddard Rd, Mt Roskill (Next to Harvey Norman), 6-8pm.
• Further information: Catherine Delahunty, West Papua Action Tāmaki and West Papua Action Aotearoa. Tel: 021 2421967

This article was first published on Café Pacific.

A new documentary film on the devastating “ecocide” happening in West Papua will be screened at a weekend solidarity forum in Auckland Tāmaki Makaurau this weekend.

The 90m feature film, Pesta Babi (“The Pig Feast”) — Colonialism In Our Time, produced by award-winning Papuan journalist Victor Mambor and directed by Dandhy Dwi Laksono, tells a story about the impact of the Indonesian government and military on the lives of thousands of Papuans trying to protect their rainforests from destruction.

It also relates the plight of thousands of internal refugees in the Melanesian region.

The peaceful resistance of local communities is revealed in the documentary as they face up to 54,000 Indonesian troops and large corporate entities make big profits at the expense of an ancient culture.

Dorthea Wabiser of the environmental and human rights group Pusaka, will speak on the deforestation and displacement of communities in the south-eastern district of Merauke  where Indonesia is destroying 2.5 million ha of rainforest for palm oil, sugar cane, biodiesel, rice and other crops.

Military force is deployed to silence any dissent from communities.

Pesta Babi (The Pig Feast).                              Trailer: Jubi Media

Solidarity group hosts
The solidarity group West Papua Action Aotearoa with West Papua Action Tāmaki are hosting the two-day public forum on March 7 and 8 with the speakers from West Papua including environmental champions and filmmakers who operate in militarised zones at considerable risk to their personal safety.

Also, a media talanoa featuring Jubi Media founder Victor Mambor and others will be hosted by the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) at the Whānau Community Centre and Hub on March 9.

“The forum is an important event with a number of speakers and filmmakers from West Papua telling the hidden stories of the Indonesian occupation of their country,” said organiser Catherine Delahunty.

The climate impact of their destruction was incredibly serious as was the use of the military to enforce an end to traditional life, food sources, and forests, she said in a statement.

“These people are our Pacific neighbours with a devastating story to tell that our government and others across the world have chosen to ignore,” she said.

“They have a right to come here and to be heard despite the media bans in Indonesia and the desire of successive New Zealand governments to ignore structural genocide in our region.

NZ citizen kidnapped
“Only when a NZ citizen was kidnapped by Papuan soldiers did the government show any interest in West Papua, and this quickly faded once he was safely released thanks especially to West Papuan efforts.”

Other speakers at the forum include veteran activist and writer Maire Leadbeater, Green MP Teanau Tuiono, Hawai’an academic Dr Emalani Case, journalist and author Dr David Robie, Dr Arama Rata of Te Kuaka, and PNG academic Dr Nathan Rew.

• Forum Day One (public sessons), Saturday, March 7:  Old Choral Hall, University of Auckland, 7 Symonds St,  9am–4pm.
• World Premiere of “Pesta Babi” (The Pig Feast) documentary with Q&A – The Academy Cinema, Lorne St, CBD (below the Auckland Public Library), March 7, 6-8.30pm.
• Forum Day Two (solidarity development), Sunday, March 8: The Taro Patch, 9 Dunnotar Rd, Papatoetoe.
• Media Talanoa, Monday, March 9: “Kōrero with Victor Mambor: West Papua: Journalism as Resistance” – Whānau Community Centre and Hub, 165 Stoddard Rd, Mt Roskill (Next to Harvey Norman), 6-8pm.
• Further information: Catherine Delahunty, West Papua Action Tāmaki and West Papua Action Aotearoa. Tel: 021 2421967

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Yasinta Moiwend was startled when, on a quiet morning, a massive ship docked at her village pier in West Papua.

The vessel carried hundreds of excavators and was escorted by military forces. It was the first convoy of 2000 heavy machines to arrive in Papua under a National Strategic Project for food production, palm-based biodiesel, and sugarcane bioethanol.

Yasinta, a Marind Anim woman in Merauke, never realised that her village had been chosen as the ground zero for what would become the largest forest conversion project in modern history — turning 2.5 million ha of tropical forest into industrial plantations under the guise of “food security” and the “energy transition”.

Vincen Kwipalo, from the Yei community, was also shocked when his clan’s land was suddenly marked with a sign reading: “Property of the Indonesian Army.”

Only later did he learn that the land had been seized for the construction of a military battalion headquarters, at the very moment when sugarcane, a plantation company, was also encroaching on his ancestral forest.

Threatened by the same project, Franky Woro and the Awyu community in Boven Digoel erected giant crosses and indigenous ritual markers on their land. Known as the Red Cross Movement, this form of resistance has spread among Indigenous groups across South Papua.

More than 1800 red crosses have been planted to confront corporations and the military—both physically and spiritually. Though a Christian symbol is central to the movement, local Church prelates condemned it as not part of the church.

The Pesta Babi trailer. Video: Jubi Media at Café Pacific

Pesta Babi (“Pig Feast”) combines detailed field recordings with in-depth research to examine the power structures behind the operation.

It exposes how government and corporate entities — collaborating with military and religious groups — advance international and national goals of “food security” and “energy transition” at the expense of Indigenous communities and landscapes.

The documentary illustrates the networks of Indonesian elites, oligarchs, and multinational corporations that benefit from the project, providing a vivid depiction of the political ecology of Indonesian governance in Papua.

Pig Feast serves as a record of colonialism that remains intact today.

This film is co-produced by Jubi, Ekspedisi Indonesia Baru, Greenpeace, Yayasan Pusaka, and Watchdoc Documentary. It is being screened as part of a weekend of West Papua Solidarity Forum events organised by West Papua Action Tāmaki Makaurau.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A West Papuan leader has accused the Indonesian government of lying over its operations and “masking” the military role of some civilian aircraft.

Disputing an Indonesian government statement about reported that TPNPB fired upon an aircraft in Boven Digoel, killing both the pilot and copilot, United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) interim president Benny Wenda said the aircraft was “not civilian”.

Wenda added that the Indonesian government was “tricking the world” about its military operations in West Papua.

“The Cessna plane the TPNPB [West Papua National Liberation Army] fired upon in Boven Digoel was not a civilian plane, as the police spokesman misleadingly stated, but part of a security operation,” Wenda said in a statement.

“Indonesia is again disguising their military activity as [civilian] activity. They are also willfully breaching the no-fly zones established by the TPNPB.”

The occupied conflict areas in which the Indonesian military TNI were “not permitted to fly” had been “clearly marked out by the TPNPB”.

“This is the same pattern Indonesia used in 1977, when Indonesia used a disguised civilian plane to bomb villages across the highlands and massacre thousands, including many members of my own family,” Wenda said.

Clear strategy
He added there was a clear strategy behind this — “Indonesia wants to avoid the attention that would be drawn by a large scale military buildup, so they mask their introduction of weapons and other military equipment and personnel”.

Wenda said they were effectively “using their own people as human shields”.

Indonesian soldiers and equipment next to a civilian aircraft. Image: ULMWP

The TPNPB attacks took place on February 11, with the plane being downed and the pilot and co-pilot being killed.

A second attack took place in Mimika, near the Grasberg gold and copper mine, which has been the cause of so much West Papuan deaths over the past 40 years.

“Indonesia then immediately began operating their propaganda machine, claiming that the planes were simply engaged in civilian and medical supply distribution,” Wenda said.

“The truth is that these aircraft were involved in intelligence and security operations.

Media blackout
“Indonesia is only able to spread these lies and mislead the international community because of their six-decades long media blackout in West Papua.

“No journalists or NGOs are allowed to operate in our land. West Papua is a closed society, just like North Korea. I thank God we have civilian journalists to document their lies.”

By breaching these rules the military were inviting further attacks, Wenda said.

“We must always remember that the Indonesian military uses any armed action by West Papuans for their own gain, as a pretext for more militarisation, more displacement, and more deforestation and ecocide.”

Wenda said their aim was always to escalate the situation as a way of ethnically cleansing Papuans, forcing them to become refugees in their own land, and strengthening their colonial hold over West Papua.

“It isn’t a coincidence that in the week since this incident we have seen an escalation in Yahukimo, an Indonesia-occupied community health centre, and transformed it into a military post, displacing and traumatising local residents.”

Using hospitals and other health infrastructure for military means was a clear breach of international humanitarian law, Wenda said.

Normal for military
In West Papua such behaviour was normal for the military.

“In the same week in Puncak regency, Indonesian military personnel seized a school, preventing students from learning and putting ordinary people at risk of harm. Soldiers are posted in classrooms with guns.”

Wenda called on the Indonesian government to withdraw their troops from occupied West Papua, allow civilians to return home, cease using civilian vehicles as a cover for military action, and immediately facilitate a UN Human Rights visit to West Papua — as has been demanded by more than 110 UN Member states.

“Ultimately, Indonesia must come to the table to discuss a referendum,” Wenda said. “This is the only path to a peaceful solution in West Papua.”

An Indonesian Embassy spokesperson blamed the “armed criminal group”, an expression it  uses to describe resistance movement fighters.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A world premiere of a new documentary revealing the devastation of rainforest in the southeastern part of West Papua is one of two films being screened in Auckland next month.

Billed as “Sinéma Merdeka: Stories from West Papua”, the programme is showing the heart of a hidden Pacific conflict and will be presented live by celebrated Papuan journalist and Jubi News founder Victor Mambor.

The two films are “Pesta Babi — Colonialism in Our Time” and “Sa Punya Nama Pengungsi” (My name is Pengungsi).

“Pesta Babi” (The Pig Party), directed by Cypri Dale and Dandhy Laksono, is being premiered at the Academy Cinema, Auckland CBD, at 6pm on Saturday, March 7.

Filmed under siege and a draconian media ban, the filmmakers offer a rare and
urgent glimpse into indigenous life in Merauke, where Indonesian bulldozers have been systematically destroying their pristine rainforest home.

This film is co-produced by Jubi, Ekspedisi Indonesia Baru, Greenpeace, Yayasan Pusaka, and Watchdoc Documentary.

The second film, “Sa Punya Nama Pengungsi”, directed by Yuliana Lantipo is set against the backdrop of escalating government violence and the displacement of an estimated 100,000 Indigenous Melanesian people from their lands.

“My name is Pengungsi” is centred on the story of two Papuan children born in the midst of the conflict. Both are named “Pengungsi”, which in English means “Refugee”.

Films talanoa
The films will be followed by a Q&A/Talanoa with Mambor and fellow Australian-based West Papuan journalist Ronny Kareni and hosted by Dr David Robie, editor of Asia Pacific Report and deputy director of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN).

The twin-film festival is part of a weekend West Papua Solidarity Forum programme at the Auckland University Old Choral Hall, 7 Symonds Street, on Saturday, March 7, and on Sunday, March 8.

There will also be a public media seminar at the Whanau Community Centre and Hub featuring journalist and filmmaker Victor Mambor at 6pm, Monday, March 9, at the Taro Patch, Papatoetoe.

Organisers of the film screenings are West Papua Action Tāmaki Makaurau West Papua is the western half of New Guinea island and has been occupied by Indonesia since 1963. The independent state of Papua New Guinea is the eastern half.

Organisers of the film screenings are West Papua Action Tāmaki Makaurau. The group notes that more than 500,000 civilians have been killed in a slow genocide against the indigenous population, according to human rights agencies.

Basic human rights such as freedom of speech are denied and Papuans live in a constant state of fear and intimidation.

Foreign journalists have generally been barred entrance.

Traditional ways of life are under threat as huge tracts of rainforest are cut down to make
way for Indonesian palm oil and food estates, the world’s largest gold mine and ever-increasing transmigration from Indonesia, making Indigenous Papuans a minority in their own land.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The global human rights landscape has witnessed a significant diplomatic milestone.

Indonesia, for the first time since the body’s establishment in 2006, has officially taken the presidency of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC).

Indonesia’s Permanent Representative to the UN in Geneva, Ambassador Sidharto Reza Suryodipuro, is currently guiding the procedural and diplomatic course of the world’s foremost human rights forum for the coming year.

This appointment, backed by consensus within the Asia-Pacific regional group and subsequently endorsed by the full council, is far more than a routine procedural rotation.

It is a mirror reflecting diplomatic success, yet also a fragile piñata — ready to spill forth either in praise or sharp criticism depending on the blows dealt by reality and unfolding dynamics.

This moment is not the end of a journey, but the opening of a new chapter rife with interpretation — a complex test of Indonesia’s credibility, capacity, and consistency on the stage of global issues.

The test begins not only in the halls of Geneva but simultaneously in the halls of power in Jakarta, where the government is pushing for the ratification of a revised Human Rights Law by this year.

This legislative endeavour has now become inextricably linked to the credibility of its international leadership.

Foundations and mandate
To understand the seriousness of this position, one must look to its foundational pillars.

The UN Charter, as the supreme constitution of global governance, clearly places the promotion and respect for human rights as a central pillar for maintaining international peace and security.

This charter provides an undeniable moral and political mandate. Indonesia’s presidency, within this framework, is an operational instrument to realise the charter’s noble aims — a collective trust bestowed by the community of nations.

The Human Rights Council itself is a product of the post-Cold War collective consciousness and the failures of its predecessor, the Commission on Human Rights. Established by General Assembly Resolution 60/251, it was designed as a more legitimate intergovernmental body with a mandate to strengthen the promotion and protection of human rights globally.

It is a space of often-tense dialogue, a tireless advocacy arena for civil society, and a stage where mechanisms like the Universal Periodic Review (UPR) and Special Procedures strive to illuminate dark corners of violations.

Within this complexity, the council president is not merely a passive moderator but a pacesetter, agenda-shaper, balance-keeper, and often a mediator in intricate political deadlocks. This position holds the key that can either unlock discussions on neglected issues or bury them in procedure.

The normative compass for the council is the International Bill of Human Rights — comprising the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR).

These standards are the shared measure, the common language, and the basis for demands.

Indonesia’s leadership will be judged on its ability to advance the language and spirit of these covenants, not only within the halls of Geneva but also through their resonance and enactment at the national level. It is here that the ongoing revision of Indonesia’s own Human Rights Law (Law Number 30 of 1999) transforms from a domestic legislative process into a litmus test for its international posture.

Two sides of the coin
Globally, this presidency represents the pinnacle of Indonesia’s soft power diplomacy. It affirms the image of a consequential developing nation deemed capable of leading even the most sensitive conversations.

It is an invaluable platform to voice Global South perspectives, emphasise the interdependence of civil-political and socio-economic rights, and champion dialogue over confrontation.

Indonesia has the opportunity to act as a bridge-builder, spanning the divides between West and East, North and South, in an increasingly polarised human rights discourse.

Yet, behind the stage lights, the shadows are long and critical. Organisations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have consistently warned that leadership on the council must align with tangible commitment.

They are watching closely: Will Indonesia use its influence to push for access by special mandate-holders to global conflict zones, or will it cloak inaction in the rhetoric of state sovereignty?

Will its voice be loud in highlighting violations in one region while falling silent on another due to geopolitical and geostrategic considerations?

Herein lies the ultimate credibility test. The United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) criticises Indonesia’s presidency, arguing it could swiftly become “hollow prestige” if seen merely as a product of regional rotation, not a recognition of substantive capability.

The ULMWP asserts that Indonesia is unfit for the role, pointing to allegations of a 60-year conflict in Papua, historical casualties, and comparing the situation to past international controversies.

They challenge Indonesia’s moral standing, citing unresolved historical allegations, internal displacement, and the long-standing refusal to grant access to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights.

This opposition underscores the profound domestic scrutiny the presidency faces: every action on the global stage will be measured against conditions in Papua, where critics describe ongoing tensions and demand immediate access for journalists and a UN visit.

The most profound implications may, in fact, unfold domestically. This presidency is a mirror forcibly held up to the nation itself. It creates unique political and moral pressure to address longstanding homework.

Issues such as freedom of expression, protection of minorities and vulnerable groups, law enforcement in cases of alleged violations, and the state of labour and environmental rights will come under a brighter international spotlight.

In this context, the government’s move to revise the Human Rights Law is a direct response to this pressure.

Human Rights Minister Natalius Pigai, in a meeting with Commission III of the House of Representatives (DPR) on February 2, 2026, emphasised that the drafting process involves prominent national human rights figures — including Professor Jimly Asshiddiqie, Makarim Wibisono, Haris Azhar, Rocky Gerung, Ifdhal Kasim, and Roichatul Aswidah — to ensure the revised law is “more progressive and advanced”.

The government is targeting ratification in 2026, aiming to synchronise domestic legal progress with its international leadership year.

The government thus faces a stark choice: leverage this historic moment as a catalyst for deeper legal and institutional human rights reforms, open wider dialogue with civil society, and demonstrate tangible progress anchored in a stronger law; or, wield the position merely as a diplomatic shield to deflect criticism, content with symbolism over substance, even if that symbolism includes a newly passed but weakly implemented law.

The latter would be a damaging boomerang, deepening a crisis of trust both in the eyes of its own citizens and the global community.

Indonesian civil society, conversely, holds a golden opportunity. They now have a wider door to elevate domestic issues to the global forum, using their own nation’s presidential position as an accountability tool. The involvement of activists in the law revision process is a start, but the presidency must be seen not as the sole property of the government, but as a national asset to be filled with diverse and critical voices, both sweet and bitter, to ensure the promised progress is real.

Navigating the terrain
A clear-eyed SWOT analysis is indispensable for Indonesia to strategically navigate its historic presidency of the UN Human Rights Council. This framework illuminates the internal and external factors that will define its tenure, balancing inherent advantages against palpable risks, all while the domestic reform clock ticks.

Strengths: Indonesia enters this role with a formidable diplomatic toolkit. Its long-standing tradition of “free and active” foreign policy has cultivated a wide non-aligned network and substantial credibility as an independent voice in the Global South.

As the world’s third-largest democracy, it offers a practical case study in balancing governance, diversity, and development. Furthermore, its soft power assets — embodied in the national motto Bhinneka Tunggal Ika (Unity in Diversity) and its narrative of moderate Islam — provide unique cultural and religious leverage to mediate polarised debates on sensitive issues like religious freedom.

Operationally, the presidency itself confers significant agenda-setting power, allowing Indonesia to prioritise thematic issues such as the right to development, climate justice, and interfaith tolerance, while influencing the appointment of key human rights investigators.

The concurrent push for a progressive Human Rights Law revision can be framed as a strength, showcasing a commitment to aligning domestic norms with international aspirations.

Weaknesses: Indonesia’s most significant vulnerability remains the perceived gap between its international advocacy and its domestic human rights landscape. Longstanding, contentious issues — including restrictions on civil liberties, protections for minorities, and unresolved past alleged violations — provide immediate fodder for critics and undermine its moral authority.

This credibility deficit is a strategic weakness that adversaries will exploit. The revision of the Human Rights Law, if perceived as a rushed or cosmetic exercise to coincide with the presidency, could exacerbate this weakness rather than alleviate it.

Additionally, the technical and political capacity of its permanent mission in Geneva will be under immense strain, tested by the need to master complex procedural rules while managing intensely politicised negotiations among competing global blocs in real-time.

Opportunities: This presidency is an unparalleled platform for strategic nation-branding, casting Indonesia as a consensus-driven, responsible global leader. Domestically, it creates a powerful political catalyst to accelerate and deepen stalled legislative reforms.

The targeted 2026 ratification of the Human Rights Law is the prime opportunity; it must be used to revitalise national human rights institutions like the National Commission of Human Rights (Komnas HAM) and pass long-delayed bills like the Domestic Workers Protection Bill.

Internationally, it offers the chance to operationalise its bridge-builder identity, mediating in protracted conflicts or humanitarian crises where dialogue has stalled, thereby translating diplomatic principle into tangible impact.

Successfully shepherding a meaningful domestic reform would give Indonesia undeniable moral currency in these international efforts.

Threats: The external environment is fraught with challenges. The council is often an arena for great power politicisation, where human rights issues are weaponised for geopolitical ends. Indonesia risks being ensnared in these zero-sum games, which could drain diplomatic capital and compromise its neutral stance.

Simultaneously, it faces relentless scrutiny from a vigilant transnational civil society and global media, ensuring that any perceived stagnation or regression at home — such as a watered-down Human Rights Law or continued restrictions in Papua — will trigger amplified criticism internationally.

The paramount threat, however, is the boomerang effect: that the heightened visibility of the presidency exponentially raises expectations, and the subsequent failure to demonstrate concrete progress — both in Geneva through effective leadership and in Jakarta through substantive reform—could severely damage Indonesia’s hard-won diplomatic reputation, leaving it weaker than before it assumed the chair.

Thus, Indonesia’s tenure will be a constant balancing act: leveraging its strengths to seize opportunities, while meticulously managing its weaknesses to mitigate existential threats.

The presidency is not merely a position of honour, but a high-stakes test of strategic foresight and authentic commitment, where domestic legislative action is now part of the international exam.

From symbol to substance: The path forward
Indonesia’s election as the 2026 President of the UNHRC is an acknowledgment of its role and potential on the global stage. However, this acknowledgment comes as a loan of trust with very high interest: increased accountability and consistency.

The government’s own timeline, aiming to ratify a revised Human Rights Law within this same year, has voluntarily raised the stakes, tying its legacy directly to tangible domestic output.

This year of leadership is not a celebratory party, but a laboratory for authentic leadership. Its success will not be measured by the smoothness of procedural sessions or the number of meetings chaired.

It will be measured by the extent to which Indonesia can articulate and champion a vision of inclusive and just human rights globally, and — just as crucially — by the degree to which this office leaves a positive legacy for the advancement of human rights at home.

The revised Human Rights Law is poised to be the most visible component of that domestic legacy. Minister Pigai’s confidence in its progressiveness, bolstered by the involvement of respected figures, must translate into a law that meaningfully addresses past shortcomings and empowers institutions.

Indonesia stands at a crossroads. One path leads to transformative leadership, using this position to strengthen global norms while cleansing the domestic mirror through courageous reform and open engagement. The other leads to transactional leadership, leveraging prestige and a new but potentially inert law to impress without touching the core of the issues.

Indonesia’s choice will determine whether history records 2026 as the year Indonesia truly led the world on human rights by exemplifying the change it advocates, or merely performed a protocol duty on a stage where the lights are slowly fading on its credibility.

A historic mandate and its dual imperative
This strategic position is a historic achievement, cementing the country’s role while presenting a real-time test of its global credibility. As a body of 47 member states, the UNHRC holds vital authority in investigating violations, conducting periodic reviews, and shaping international human rights norms. The Council President controls the agenda, guides dialogue, and, most importantly, builds consensus from diverse interests.

Indonesia is no newcomer, currently serving its sixth membership term and often as a Vice-President. Securing the top seat opens the chance to shift from “player” to “game-setter,” potentially shaping a more inclusive global human rights discourse.

This achievement is built on active diplomacy: vigorous economic and peace diplomacy (including Indonesia’s peacemaker initiatives), strengthened regional diplomacy emphasising ASEAN centrality and Global South solidarity, and a consistent multilateral commitment as a strong UN system supporter.

The Indonesian Ministry of Foreign Affairs has affirmed its commitment to lead the council objectively, inclusively, and in a balanced manner. Potential agenda paths include advocating for contextualising human rights principles to be more sensitive to the historical, developmental, and socio-cultural contexts of developing nations; expanding the discourse to seriously discuss issues like corruption, environmental degradation, and electoral governance in the Council; and testing its bridge-builder capacity in acute conflicts, such as the Palestinian issue, by leading constructive diplomatic initiatives.

Ultimately, history will record not just the prestigious title of “UNHRC President,” but the substance and impact of the leadership. This position is a mirror: Is Indonesia ready to lead with consistency and firm moral principle, or will it become trapped in the contradiction between rhetoric in Geneva and reality at home?

The parallel process to revise the Human Rights Law is now part of that reflection. Its quality, its process, and its final enactment will be scrutinised as evidence of Indonesia’s sincerity.

True leadership will be measured by the courage to build bridges amid global divisions and the ability to connect words with concrete action and accountability domestically. The year 2026 will determine whether this moment is remembered as a renaissance of moral diplomacy, backed by genuine legal evolution at home, or merely a display window of symbolism where even new laws ring hollow.

The final word rests not on the title itself, but on the government’s collective actions in both the international arena and the national legislature. Success in this dual mission would add a brilliant and coherent achievement to the international record of the administration of President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka.

The choice — and the test — is in Indonesia’s hands.

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.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A West Papuan leader has accused the Indonesian government of lying over its operations and “masking” the military role of some civilian aircraft.

Disputing an Indonesian government statement about reported that TPNPB fired upon an aircraft in Boven Digoel, killing both the pilot and copilot, United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) interim president Benny said the aircraft was “not civilian”.

Benny Wenda said the Indonesian government was “tricking the world” about its military operations in West Papua.

“The Cessna plane the TPNPB [West Papua National Liberation Army] fired upon in Boven Digoel was not a civilian plane, as the police spokesman misleadingly stated, but part of a security operation,” Wenda said.

“Indonesia is again disguising their military activity as [civilian] activity. They are also willfully breaching the no-fly zones established by the TPNPB.”

The occupied conflict areas in which the Indonesian military TNI were “not permitted to fly” had been “clearly marked out by the TPNPB”.

“This is the same pattern Indonesia used in 1977, when Indonesia used a disguised civilian plane to bomb villages across the highlands and massacre thousands, including many members of my own family,” Wenda said.

Clear strategy
He added there was a clear strategy behind this — “Indonesia wants to avoid the attention that would be drawn by a large scale military buildup, so they mask their introduction of weapons and other military equipment and personnel”.

Wenda said they were effectively “using their own people as human shields”.

Indonesian soldiers and equipment next to a civilian aircraft. Image: ULMWP

The TPNPB attacks took place on February 11, with the plane being downed and the pilot and co-pilot being killed.

A second attack took place in Mimika, near the Grasberg gold and copper mine, which has been the cause of so much West Papuan deaths over the past 40 years.

“Indonesia then immediately began operating their propaganda machine, claiming that the planes were simply engaged in civilian and medical supply distribution,” Wenda said.

“The truth is that these aircraft were involved in intelligence and security operations.

Media blackout
“Indonesia is only able to spread these lies and mislead the international community because of their six-decades long media blackout in West Papua.

“No journalists or NGOs are allowed to operate in our land. West Papua is a closed society, just like North Korea. I thank God we have civilian journalists to document their lies.”

By breaching these rules the military were inviting further attacks, Wenda said.

“We must always remember that the Indonesian military uses any armed action by West Papuans for their own gain, as a pretext for more militarisation, more displacement, and more deforestation and ecocide.”

Wenda said their aim was always to escalate the situation as a way of ethnically cleansing Papuans, forcing them to become refugees in their own land, and strengthening their colonial hold over West Papua.

“It isn’t a coincidence that in the week since this incident we have seen an escalation in Yahukimo, an Indonesia-occupied community health centre, and transformed it into a military post, displacing and traumatising local residents.”

Using hospitals and other health infrastructure for military means was a clear breach of international humanitarian law, Wenda said.

Normal for military
In West Papua such behaviour was normal for the military.

“In the same week in Puncak regency, Indonesian military personnel seized a school, preventing students from learning and putting ordinary people at risk of harm. Soldiers are posted in classrooms with guns.”

Wenda called on the Indonesian government to withdraw their troops from occupied West Papua, allow civilians to return home, cease using civilian vehicles as a cover for military action, and immediately facilitate a UN Human Rights visit to West Papua — as has been demanded by more than 110 UN Member states.

“Ultimately, Indonesia must come to the table to discuss a referendum,” Wenda said. “This is the only path to a peaceful solution in West Papua.”

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The Indonesian government has dismissed a claim that its military has been bombing villages in West Papua.

The United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) claims a makeshift refugee camp in Puncak regency was bombed, and that many villagers have been displaced.

ULMWP president Benny Wenda said the Air Force had “relentlessly attacked the region” since the end of January.

“According to Human Rights Defenders on the ground, the Indonesian military used drones to drop bombs on the refugee camp in Kembru District, forcing civilians from nine villages to flee into the forest,” Wenda said in a statement.

“These are mostly women (some of them pregnant), children, and elders — defenceless people who have already been displaced from their homes by previous military operations.”

However, a spokesperson for Indonesia’s Embassy in New Zealand said that there were no increased attacks done by Indonesian Air Force or other branch of the military, “apart from regular patrol to provide security and to guarantee safety for all of Indonesians”.

The embassy spokesperson said about 500 residents in the area had been “evacuated” from their villages due to threats from an “armed criminal group”, a label given to Papuan independence fighters.

Counter claims
There is more confusion around at least one separate, violent incident in the past several days.

ULMWP claimed Indonesia’s military forces killed a Papuan man, Pit Nayagau, during a raid in the Sugapa District of Intan Jaya Regency.

But the embassy spokesperson again pointed blame at the “armed criminal group” while indicating that more information was required for clarification regarding this incident.

Meanwhile, two pilots were killed after gunfire at a commercial plane when it landed at an airport in South Papua province last week.

“Unfortunately, those threats resulted in the loss of life of two Indonesian pilots in which their plane has been shot down by the armed criminal group.

“Elkius Kobak and Kopitua Heluka from the armed criminal group have claimed the responsibility of the shooting,” the embassy said.

Meanwhile, Wenda said internet blackouts had hampered the flow of information about the attacks.

“Indonesia is using their full range of occupation strategies during this offensive: forced displacement, indiscriminate targeting of villagers, and information blackouts,” he said.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A two-day West Papua Solidarity Forum and mini film festival is being held in Auckland Tāmaki Makaurau next month featuring West Papuan and local academics, advocates and journalists.

Hosted by West Papua Action Tamaki and West Papua Action Aotearoa, keynote speeches, panels and discussion on the opening day, March 7, will focus on updates from West Papuan speakers from the frontlines and activist/academic contexts with responses and regional perspectives from solidarity groups.

Themes will include military occupation updates, colonial expansion, environmental issues, community organising and human rights abuses, said a statement from the organisers.

Speakers include: Viktor Yeimo (online from West Papua), Dorthea Wabiser, Victor Mambor, Ronny Kareni, Kerry Tabuni, Hilda Halkyard Harawira, Emalani Case, Nathan Rew, Arama Rata, Dr David Robie, Maire Leadbetter, Teanau Tuiono, Te Aniwaniwa Paterson.

The evening event is a public mini festival of Papuan films introduced by journalist and editor Victor Mambor from Jubi Media in Jayapura.

The second day, March 8, is dedicated to solidarity development and relationship building across the region and opportunities to support West Papua in Aotearoa, with cultural and political kōrero and talanoa.

This event is an opportunity for students, community groups, media, unions, academics and activists to learn more about West Papua and the current regional and political context.

A media seminar featuring Victor Mambor and organised by the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) will also be held at the Whānau Community Centre and Hub on Monday, March 9.

• Note: The Forum event is being held at two venues — the Auckland University Old Choral Hall, 7 Symonds Street, on Saturday, March 7 (9.00am-4.30pm), and at “The Taro Patch”, 9 Dunnotar Road, Papatoetoe, Auckland (close to train station) on Sunday, March 8  2026(9.00am-4.00pm).
• More details, koha and registration at Humanitix by February 20 2026

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The logbook of presidential flights in Indonesia reveals an unusual pattern — from the Merdeka Palace to the Land of the Bird of Paradise.

By 2023, then President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo had set foot in Papua at least 17 times — a record in the republic’s history, surpassing the total visits of all previous presidents combined.

Each touchdown of the presidential plane on the land of Papua or at the new airports he inaugurated was more than just a working visit. It was a statement of presence as a political message: Papua is no longer marginalised; it exists on Indonesia’s main political map.

Yet, behind the roar of the presidential plane and the welcoming traditional dances, lies a critical question: Has the physical presence of a national leader, accompanied by the rumble of massive infrastructure projects, touched the core issues of Papua?

Or has it merely become a grand symbol of integration, while social fractures, injustice, and sorrow continue to flow?

This analysis evaluates the multifaceted impact of President Jokowi’s dozen plus visits and draw crucial lessons for the new administration of President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka (Jokowi’s Son) in weaving a more just and sustainable Papuan policy.

The multidimensional impact of Jokowi’s visits
From a national political perspective, the frequency of President Jokowi’s visits to Papua, was a smart and unprecedented political communication strategy. Each landing in the Melanesian land has not merely been a routine agenda but a powerful symbolic political performance.

Handshakes with tribal chiefs, meetings with traditional leaders in public arenas, and speeches amid crowds function as direct counter-narratives to long-standing issues of marginalisation and separatism.

This physical presidential presence is an undeniable visual declaration: Papua is an inseparable part of Indonesia, and the nation’s highest leader is consistently present there.

This presence serves as a potent tool of state legitimacy, shortening the psychological distance between the centre of power in Jakarta and the easternmost Melanesian region, while demonstrating the intended political commitment. However, beneath this symbolism, the legitimacy built through physical presence is temporary if not supported by real structural change.

The critical question often raised by the community, especially Indigenous Papuans (OAP), is simple yet fundamental: “After the president’s planes and helicopters leave and the protocol frenzy subsides, what has truly changed for our lives?”

The narrative of integration through presence and physical development often clashes with demands for self-determination and historical grievances still alive among indigenous Papuans, as reflected in the ongoing armed conflict in the Central Highlands, indicating that this approach has not fully addressed the deep-seated roots of dissatisfaction.

The most visible legacy of the Jokowi era in Papua is none other than the infrastructure revolution — thousands of kilometres of the Trans-Papua Road cutting through wilderness and remote mountains, the magnificent Youtefa Bridge in Jayapura, and airport modernisations like Ewer Airport in Asmat, Wamena Airport, and the construction of the trans-Wamena-Jayapura road, Wamena-Nduga road, and other physical developments.

The government’s logic is that connectivity is an absolute prerequisite for growth. With good roads, the price of necessities in the interior is expected to drop, tourism can develop, and public services like health and education can become faster and more equitable.

Data from the Ministry of Public Works and Housing indeed records significant accessibility improvements. However, behind this physical progress, reports from organisations like the Pusaka Foundation and Greenpeace Indonesia warn of massive and often overlooked ecological impacts.

The opening of certain segments of the Trans-Papua Road is judged to accelerate deforestation, threaten Papua’s unique biodiversity, and disrupt watershed areas.

More profoundly, the issue of community involvement and consent in land acquisition processes often becomes a source of new conflict, sparking tension. As Indonesian human rights activist Usman Hamid has stated, infrastructure development is like a double-edged sword: on one side, it opens isolation and shortens distances, but on the other, it paradoxically erodes customary land rights, damages the environment that is the source of their cultural life and subsistence, and ironically, is enjoyed more by new settlers with greater capital and networks.

On the socio-economic level, the government vigorously distributed various social assistance programmes such as the Indonesia Health Card (KIS), Indonesia Smart Card (KIP), and various forms of Direct Cash Assistance (BLT).

These affirmative policies aim directly at catching up on welfare gaps and, statistically, have succeeded in reducing poverty rates in cities like Jayapura, although they remain the highest nationally. Sectors like Youtefa Bay tourism also show rapid growth. However, the economic growth created is often enclave-like and not inclusive.

Maria, a small business owner in Jayapura, illustrates this reality — large infrastructure projects are handled by contractors from outside Papua, hotels and medium-scale businesses are often owned by non-Papuan investors, while local SMEs struggle to compete due to limited access to capital, training, and marketing networks.

The structural gap between OAP and non-Papuans in ownership of means of production and access to quality job opportunities remains wide. Consequently, many Papuan sons and daughters only become manual labourers or contract workers on the grand projects building their ancestral land, an irony that deepens the sense of injustice.

In the socio-cultural realm, President Jokowi’s presence, often adorned with Papuan cultural ornaments and humbly participating in traditional dances, was a powerful form of symbolic recognition. This gesture sent a national message that Papuan culture is respected and valued at the highest state level.

However, this symbolic recognition on the political stage often does not align with the daily reality in Papua. The late Papuan peace figure, Father Neles Tebay, once described that in Papuan cities, “two worlds” often coexist but do not integrate: the modern world of migrants dominating the formal sector and modern economy, and the world of indigenous communities, often marginalised in culturally insensitive development processes.

Ethnic-tinged horizontal conflicts that have occurred, such as in Jayapura and Mimika, are clear indicators of how fragile social harmony is and how deep the unresolved socio-cultural gap remains.

The darkest and most challenging point of this entire development narrative lies in human rights issues and the unending armed conflict. Although presidential visits often include a conflict resolution agenda, incidents of human rights violations and armed clashes between security forces and the TPNPB (West Papua National Liberation Army) continue to recur, with unarmed civilians often becoming trapped victims, as in the tragedies in Nduga and Intan Jaya highlighted by Komnas HAM and LBH Jakarta.

An approach relying almost solely on physical development, unaccompanied by sincere efforts towards historical reconciliation and fair, transparent law enforcement for past human rights violations, is considered by many in Papua as merely “covering a festering internal wound with a bandage”.

This unresolved historical pain and injustice continues to be the main fuel for resistance and demands for independence, proving that concrete and asphalt roads alone are not enough to build lasting peace and justice felt by all the nation’s children.

Valuable lessons for the Prabowo-Gibran era
The current administration under President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka must not continue the Papuan policy with business as usual. The previous administration’s legacy offers a clear roadmap, as well as warnings about dead ends that must be avoided.

Four critical lessons should form the basis for transitioning from symbolic development to substantive, just transformation.

First, policy focus must undergo a paradigm shift from mere physical development towards the holistic empowerment of Papuan people. This means massive investment in quality education with curricula relevant to social contexts and local potential, as well as vocational training that equips Indigenous Papuans with skills to manage the economy on their own land.

Firm and measurable affirmative schemes must be designed to ensure Indigenous Papuans are not merely spectators, but the primary owners and managers of strategic economic sectors, from culture-based tourism and organic agriculture to creative industries.

Without this step, magnificent infrastructure will only become a channel for an extractive economy controlled by outsiders, perpetuating dependency and disparity.

Second, the government must enforce the principle of absolute harmony between development, cultural preservation, and environmental protection. Every major project, especially those touching customary lands and indigenous forest areas, must undergo credible, participatory, and legally binding Environmental and Social-Cultural Impact Assessments (AMDAL & ANDAL).

Development must no longer sacrifice local wisdom and ecosystems that are the soul and identity of Papuan society. Development models imported from Java or Sumatra must be reviewed and replaced with approaches born from dialogue with local ecology and culture, so that progress is not synonymous with environmental destruction and cultural marginalisation.

Third, this new era must open space for conflict resolution through a courageous approach of dialogue and reconciliation. The government needs to initiate inclusive dialogue involving all elements of Papuan society, including pro-independence groups willing to discuss peacefully, to address the roots of historical and structural dissatisfaction.

This complex issue has been comprehensively formulated by the Papua Peace Network. The establishment of an independent and trusted Papua Truth and Reconciliation Commission could be a monumental step to heal past wounds and build a foundation for sustainable peace, recognising that true security is born from justice.

Fourth, Special Autonomy must be revived in its meaning and spirit. A comprehensive evaluation of the implementation of the Special Autonomy Law, along with its trillions of rupiah in fund flows, is a necessity.

These funds must be shifted from physical projects that are often off-target to investments in enhancing the capacity, health, and economy of indigenous Papuans. More importantly, Special Autonomy must be interpreted as a political recognition of the special rights of Indigenous Papuans.

This means strengthening traditional institutions and providing real and decisive participatory space in every strategic decision-making at the provincial and district levels, so that policies are no longer felt as something imposed from Jakarta.

Ultimately, the main challenge for the Prabowo-Gibran administration is to demonstrate that commitment to Papua goes beyond rhetoric and showcase projects. Success will be measured not by the length of roads built, but by the fading of tension, the reduction of disparities, and the rise of self-confidence and economic independence among Indigenous Papuans.

Only by making these four pillars — human empowerment, harmony, dialogue, and living autonomy — the foundation of policy can Papua be truly integrated into the Republic of Indonesia in a dignified and sustainable manner.

A revolutionary approach model
To translate the lessons from the previous era, the current administration requires a radical change in its approach model, moving from a centralised development paradigm towards participatory governance based on Papuan native institutions.

The most revolutionary option is to form a special ministry focused on empowering Indigenous Papuans, inspired by the Ministry of Māori Development in New Zealand.

This ministry is not intended to manage regional administration, but specifically to guarantee the fulfilment of indigenous Papuans’ rights, as mandated in the Special Autonomy Law.

By placing the Governing Body for the Acceleration of Special Autonomy Development in Papua (BP3OKP) and the Papua Special Autonomy Acceleration Executive Committee under it, the government can create centralised, strong, and accountable coordination, thereby avoiding programme overlap and leakage of Special Autonomy funds.

This institutional revolution must be supported by data-based governance and authentic participation. Every policy and fund allocation, especially the massive Special Autonomy funds, must arise from rigorous data studies and in-depth dialogue with the community, rather than just technocratic planning in Jakarta.

Transparency and accountability in fund use must be guaranteed through independent oversight mechanisms that actively involve representatives of traditional councils or institutions, religious institutions, and local NGOs as watchdogs. Only then can the allocated funds truly become an instrument of change, not merely an instrument of expenditure.

Another key pillar is building equal and formal partnerships with Papuan traditional institutions, such as the Papuan Customary Council (DAP) and various stakeholders. These institutions are not merely ceremonial objects but must be recognised as strategic government partners in every stage of development, from planning and implementation to evaluation.

As socio-cultural anchors, understanding the pulse and real needs of the community, their involvement can prevent social conflict and ensure development programmes align with local wisdom and customary rights.

Furthermore, meaningful decentralisation becomes a prerequisite for success. Local governments in Papua must be given substantive authority and massive capacity building to independently manage natural resources and public services.

Moreover, the development approach must start from the grassroots, making participatory development at the village level the standard method. This method ensures that community aspirations are heard directly and the projects implemented truly address their priority needs, not merely pursuing physical targets.

Ultimately, this approach aims to reverse the traditional relationship between the central government and local governments in Papua. From a relationship that has so far seemed patron-client, to a partnership based on the sovereignty of indigenous communities and substantive justice.

Thus, development is no longer felt as something given from above, but something built together from below, creating a sense of ownership and sustainability that will become the foundation for long-term peace and prosperity in Papua.

Indonesianising in the Papuan Way
Reinterpreting the term “Indonesianising” Papua is a main task for the current administration. This concept must no longer be interpreted as an assimilation process erasing distinctive identity, but must transform into an integration that respects uniqueness.

True integration is not homogenisation, but an effort to embrace diversity as a strength. In this context, Indonesia is not a single mould, but a mosaic that gains its beauty precisely from the differences of each piece. For this, a multidimensional approach grounded in four main pillars is required.

First, in the field of education, the national curriculum must become more flexible and inclusive. Enrichment with local content — such as the history and wisdom of Papuan tribes, local languages, and inherited ecological wisdom — should not be merely supplementary, but the core of the learning process.

Schools must become places where Papuan children are proud of their identity while mastering global competencies. Second, in the field of the economy, self-reliance must be built on local strengths.

Easily accessible micro-financing systems, entrepreneurship training, and strong marketing support for flagship products like Wamena arabica coffee, sago, matoa, or high-value marine products will create a sovereign economy that empowers, rather than displaces, the indigenous people.

Third, recognition at the legal level is the foundation of justice. Recognition of the customary land rights of indigenous communities in land and natural resource governance must be guaranteed and integrated into national regulations. This is a concrete step to prevent agrarian conflict and ensure development benefits return to the rightful land owners.

Fourth, building intensive cultural dialogue through student, artist, and youth exchange programs between Papua and other regions, or other countries. This direct interaction will break the chain of prejudice, build empathy, and strengthen a true sense of brotherhood as one nation.

Towards a ‘Just Papua’
The legacy from the previous period is ambivalent. On one hand, there is magnificent infrastructure and symbolic integration strengthened through physical presence; on the other, deep disappointment remains due to unbridged gaps and a persistently pulsating conflict.

The Prabowo-Gibran administration now stands at a historical crossroads. The choice is between continuing the visually spectacular yet often elitist “concrete development” model or taking a more winding yet dignified path: namely, the Papuan human empowerment model, which places indigenous Papuans as the primary subject and heir to the future of their own land.

This strategic choice will be fate-determining. It will measure, later at the end of their term, whether presidential and vice-presidential visits to Papua are still met with cold protocol performances, or with new hope and genuine smiles from a people who feel recognised, valued, and empowered.

Ultimately, genuine national integration can only be realised when Indigenous Papuans can stand tall with all their identity and dignity, not as a party being “Indonesianised,” but as fully-fledged Indonesians who also shape the face of the nation.

The future of Papua is not about becoming like others, but about being itself in the embrace of the Bird of Garuda.

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

A West Papuan advocacy group has condemned Indonesia over taking up the presidency of the United Nations Human Rights Council, saying it was “totally unfit” and the choice  “makes a mockery” of the office.

Indonesia was the sole candidate for the Asia-Pacific bloc at the council (HRC), which also includes China, Japan and South Korea. It was the group’s turn to propose a leader.

Ambassador Sidharto Reza Suryodipuro succeeds Switzerland and will now lead proceedings at the UN forum for a year after his nomination last week.

However, a statement by a senior official of the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), interim president Benny Wenda, has challenged the nomination, asking: “How can Indonesia lead on human rights, when they are hiding from the world their 66-year occupation of West Papua, with 500,000 men, women, and children dead?”

“How can Indonesia lead on human rights, when their President is a war criminal who is complicit in genocide in East Timor and West Papua?

President Prabowo Subianto “personally tortured East Timorese men, and presided over indiscriminate massacres of Indigenous people from Kraras to Mapenduma”, claimed Wenda whose allegations have been documented in various human rights reports.

‘No apology’
“He has never apologised or been held accountable for his crimes,” said Wenda.

He said Indonesia had not won the presidency due to its human rights record.

“The position rotates around the world, and Indonesia was the only candidate from the Asia Pacific region to put themselves forward,” Wenda said.

“Nonetheless, this appointment makes a mockery of the UN and its claim to uphold international law and human rights.”

Wenda said 105,000 West Papuans were currently displaced due to Indonesian military operations.

“Indonesia holding the presidency of the HRC in 2026 is akin to apartheid South Africa leading it in 1980.”

Instead of leading the HRC, “Indonesia should be a global pariah,” said Wenda.

Refused to admit UN
“For seven years, they have refused to admit the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights [to the Papuan provinces], ignoring the repeated demand of over 110 countries, including all members of the EU commission, the United States, the Netherlands, and the UK.

“In that time, with West Papua closed to the world, they have launched countless military operations in Papua, killing thousands and displacing hundreds of thousands of Indigenous people.”

Indonesia’s Minister for Human Rights is a West Papuan, Natalius Pigai.

Wenda said Pigai had stated that Indonesia would use the HRC position to “counter breaches of international law in Venezuela and elsewhere”.

“What about your own people, Mr Pigai? What about Indonesia’s own back yard?” asked Wenda.

Until the world intervened to stop such “egregious hypocrisy” and recognised the “ongoing occupation, apartheid, and genocide”, there would “be no peace or justice in the Pacific.”

Principal defender
The UN Human Rights Council is the world’s principal defender of vulnerable people worldwide. This is the first time that an Indonesian diplomat has been elected president of the forum.

After his confirmation last Thursday, Ambassador Suryodipuro said Indonesia had been a strong supporter of the council since it began its work 20 years ago, and of the Geneva forum’s predecessor, the Human Rights Commission.

“Our decision to step forward is rooted in our 1945 constitution and that aligns with the purposes and principles of the UN Charter which mandates Indonesia to contribute to world peace based on independence, peace and social justice,” he told delegates.

At the same meeting, delegates also agreed to the appointment of Ecuadorian candidate Ambassador Marcelo Vázquez Bermúdez as vice-president of the council for 2026.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

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