Turning a blind eye

East Timor should be allowed to get on with its task of establishing sound government, feeding its people and making good relationships in the region. The responsibility for addressing the many recommendations in the CAVR Report and assisting Indonesia on the path towards full democracy lies with those like Australia, Britain, Canada and the US who have had the benefits of democracy for generations, whose longer democratic experience brings the burden of providing good example and whose refusal to call Indonesia to account has contributed to the oppression of Timorese and Papuan alike.

No one now can say that they do not know what is happening in West Papua unless they don’t want to know. Knowledge brings responsibility. Our human rights responsibilities always override other political or economic issues or else we uphold the claims of all of history’s dictators, forever willing to sacrifice the weak on the altar of a short-sighted grasp of “national interest”.

These issues are not merely internal matters for Indonesia, as human rights are never merely political but have their place among the deepest religious and ethical questions we face. Advocating genuine dialogue between the Papuan people and the Indonesian Government with the involvement of international mediators would not be interference, despite the crushed feelings or other posturing which may ensue: it would rather be the advice of a true friend.

In a curious use of grammar, there is a telling point in John 19:13 where Jesus is led out to the crowd by Pilate for judgment. The Greek verb “to sit” used here can be either transitive or intransitive, so that v.13 can be translated either “Pilate led out Jesus and sat down on the judgment seat” or “Pilate led out Jesus and sat him down on the judgment seat”. Who sat where is immaterial, and the thought of Jesus being given the role of judge by the governor is theological theatre, but the question it poses is worthy of reflection: who, indeed, is the judge?

With centuries of assimilation into western culture of the image of Christ as judge, we are readily able to ascribe to him the role of “judge” in this scene where he himself faces the death sentence. But Jesus’ own identification of himself with humanity, especially with the poor and afflicted (Matt 25) raises the question of who is the judge in the present realities in which we are embroiled.

Along with Christ, all who suffer sit in judgment on their tormentors. The murdered and the tortured accuse the greed, fear and cruelty of those with power over them. As we look into the eyes of a starving child in a photograph taken in East Timor in 1979 we are looking at the judge. The judgment on our head is there, and remains for history to see: our fear, denial, inaction, subservience.

How did Australia’s relationship with Indonesia prosper by the official refusal, both political and religious, to act on the evidence of images like that? Who gained anything? Who benefited from the soft words, the blind eye, the smoothing over, the diplomatic niceties, the deals?

Actions unworthy of human beings are being played out in West Papua in an intolerable repetition of what happened in East Timor. Therefore, the governments of Australia and Indonesia are put on notice that there are citizens in both nations who do know and who can recall, and who will continue to work for the human rights and dignity of oppressed people.