Exposing neocolonialism in West Papua

"Natives and dogs are forbidden to enter."

This was not just a sign. It was a wound, a declaration of inhumanity etched into the daily life of indigenous Indonesians under Dutch colonial rule. It told our ancestors exactly where they stood—in the eyes of the powerful, they were less than human. They were animals.

Today, such signs are gone. But the racism that powered them? It is still very much alive—only now, it wears new clothes, speaks new languages, and hides behind the mask of nationalism. Colonialism didn’t end. It just changed hands. Now it comes not from across the ocean, but from within.

West Papua is the most heartbreaking proof.

In the 1960s, under the noble pretext of “liberating” West Papua from Dutch colonialism, Indonesia marched in and took over—armed with guns, propaganda, and international backing. The so-called 'Act of Free Choice' in 1969 was anything but free. It was a stage-managed betrayal. Just 1,025 Papuans, held at gunpoint, were forced to decide the fate of millions. And the world? The United Nations? They watched. They stamped it legal. And then, they moved on.

Since then, more than 500,000 Papuans are believed to have been killed. Half a million souls—gone. The forests that fed their bodies, the mountains that held their ancestors’ spirits, the rivers that carried their songs—all poisoned, plundered, stolen. For gold, for copper, for profit.

But where is the outrage? Where are the headlines?

For over 60 years, West Papua has burned in silence. It is one of the longest and bloodiest conflicts of our time, but it is treated like a secret. Compare it to Ukraine. The world watches every bomb that falls on Kyiv. But bombs have been falling on Nduga and Intan Jaya for decades, and no one blinks.

When Papuans protest, they are imprisoned. When they speak of racism, they are silenced. And the racists? They thrive—cheered on by mobs, emboldened by impunity. Victor Yeimo, a voice of Papuan dignity, was locked away for years and then convicted for *treason*. His real crime? Speaking the truth.

And what of Haris Azhar and Fatia Maulidiyanti? They dared to uncover the corruption—the military hands buried deep in Papua’s mines. For that, they now face prison, not praise. Their courage is met not with gratitude, but with threats and trials.

Edward Snowden once said, *“When exposing a crime is treated as committing a crime, you are being ruled by criminals.”* He was right.

West Papua is bleeding. And still, the world pretends not to see. The United Nations hides behind old decisions. Indonesia hides behind nationalist slogans. And the Church, whose mission is to stand with the oppressed, often remains shamefully silent.

But history is not finished.

Tyranny does not last forever. From the ashes of silence, voices will rise. The fire of justice, once lit, cannot be extinguished by guns or gold. The Papuan struggle is not just for land—it is for dignity, for memory, for survival.

Let us remember: this is not just a political issue. This is a human cry. And until that cry is heard, none of us can claim to live in peace.