West Papua on the Brink: The Slow Death of a Nation Under Indonesian Rule

West Papua on the Brink: The Slow Death of a Nation Under Indonesian Rule

The warning bells are ringing louder than ever across the highlands and coastal plains of West Papua. More than six decades after Indonesia assumed control over the territory on May 1, 1963, what remains is a stark portrait of marginalization, environmental destruction, and cultural erasure.

While Jakarta heralds its “development” programs—especially the much-publicized Special Autonomy Law introduced in 2001—West Papuans continue to suffer under a system that many describe as colonial in all but name.

Development or Dispossession?

Across Indonesia, poverty remains widespread. But in West Papua, the economic and social disparities are magnified. Local economic activities—farming, fishing, small-scale craftsmanship—receive little to no support from the state. Instead, national policies consistently favor large corporations and elite investors, often from outside the region.

“Indonesian farmers are still poor despite the rising price of rice. Fishermen lose out to corporate trawlers. Artisans can’t compete with factory-made goods,” says a local economist in Sorong. “If that’s the condition for Indonesians in Java or Sumatra, imagine how bad it is for Papuans.”

In West Papua, development funds—amounting to trillions of rupiah annually—flow into the hands of powerful business conglomerates. Infrastructure projects, plantations, and mines are operated almost exclusively by Indonesian investors. Indigenous Papuans are systematically excluded from decision-making and economic participation.

A Culture Under Siege

Education, once a pillar of Papuan development thanks to Christian missionary schools, is now a battleground. Increasingly, mission-run institutions are being shut down or absorbed into the public system. Meanwhile, Islamic madrasahs are expanding rapidly across the region, raising concerns over cultural assimilation.

Forest lands are vanishing under the advance of palm oil plantations and logging concessions. Large-scale mining operations—legal and illegal—scar the landscape, often with military protection. Local communities, especially in rural districts like Nduga and Asmat, suffer the consequences: malnutrition, displacement, and disease.

“The deaths of Papuan children in remote regions have become tragically routine,” says a human rights worker in Wamena. “And in the cities, we now face a flood of alcohol and drugs—often distributed by those tasked with upholding the law.”

Repression and Resistance

Critics say the Indonesian state’s approach to Papua is not just negligent—it is repressive. Security forces routinely crack down on peaceful dissent. Activists, students, and ordinary citizens are arrested on charges of treason or separatism. Meanwhile, the military presence remains heavy across the region, with reports of extrajudicial killings and enforced disappearances continuing to surface.

Markus Haluk, Secretary of the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), writes in his 2023 book Realizing the Vision of One Furnace in One Papuan Honai:

“The experience of living with Indonesia teaches us Papuans that ordinary people are always victims of the ruler's policies. During Suharto’s dictatorship, millions were killed and imprisoned on false charges. In Papua, hundreds of thousands have suffered the same fate—accused of separatism, their homes and families destroyed.”

Is There a Future for West Papua?

The growing consensus among many Papuans is clear: Indonesia is not the future of West Papua. With their land, livelihoods, and identity increasingly under threat, community leaders and activists are calling on the international community to take notice—and take action.

“The world cannot continue to look away,” says Haluk. “We must act now to save what is left of our people.”

As the forests fall, the rivers run toxic, and the culture fades, one question remains: how much longer can West Papua survive under a system that seems designed to erase it?