On The Razor's Edge

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Hints of the fury that struck East Timor had been apparent since January. When Habibie unexpectedly offered locals a referendum on independence, militia groups who wanted continued ties with Jakarta began to organize and acquire guns. Even before the vote, independence campaigners were intimidated and dozens killed. Although the militias were clearly supported by elements of the Indonesian armed forces, the international community in May agreed to entrust security during the referendum period to Indonesia. It was a fatal misjudgment, as the bloodbath showed. Why the killing? There were all kinds of theories. Perhaps the military, angered at having to give up territory it had fought so hard to pacify, wanted to get a few last licks in before pulling out. The military leadership was also clearly afraid that other restive provinces like Aceh and Irian Jaya would use the East Timor precedent to push for their own secession--and so, the theory goes, they wanted to make an example of East Timor. Others argued that regional commanders intended to defy Jakarta and reduce East Timor to a state of anarchy to cancel out entirely the result of the referendum. "The military feels insulted," says Harry Tjan Silalahi, a think-tank director in Jakarta. "Some may want to restore order, but those in the field have a much different purpose." In all likelihood, each of these explanations added a sliver of sick truth to East Timor's fate.

Violence is not new to East Timor, an arid territory about the size of Connecticut. Colonized by the Portuguese in the 16th century for its sandalwood, and predominantly Catholic, it was invaded by Indonesian troops in December 1975 with the tacit consent of President Ford and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. Jakarta's forces met bitter resistance--some 200,000 East Timorese died as a result of the occupation, and Indonesia's annexation of East Timor was never recognized by the U.N.

It was to get rid of this diplomatic embarrassment that President Habibie proposed the referendum, ignoring the warnings of powerful military leaders, including armed forces chief General Wiranto. Habibie should have listened. Within hours of the Sept. 4 announcement that nearly 80% of the electorate had voted for independence, Dili and other towns echoed with gunfire as militiamen took over the streets, unchecked by the military. Civilians began pouring into churches, convents and U.N. compounds seeking safety (see accompanying story). "If there is a devil, these militia guys work for him," said a photographer evacuated from Dili after the referendum.

If there was any light to be found in East Timor last week, it was in the U.N. compound in Dili, where a small group of aid workers, journalists and refugees kept up a heroic mission. Though Annan had ordered the compound shut on Wednesday, after militia groups attacked a U.N. food convoy, his local representatives revolted: fearing the 1,500 refugees in the compound would be massacred once the foreigners left, the staff members circulated petitions and announced they would stay. After a few hours of frantic negotiating, the U.N. left behind a skeleton staff of 84 people, who endured three days of nightmarish shelling and intimidation by pro-Jakarta thugs.