Thomas Oswald: A Cry for Justice from the Shadows of West Papua

Thomas Oswald on TV Libertés, 2021.

In a riveting broadcast on Radio Notre Dame on May 7, Thomas Oswald, journalist for Aid to the Church in Need (ACN), delivered a powerful denunciation of what he called the ethnic cleansing of the indigenous people of West Papua—an occupied and often-forgotten corner of the world under Indonesian rule.

His voice broke through the silence that has too long engulfed this humanitarian crisis, calling on global conscience and, most notably, on the Vatican.

According to Oswald, the upcoming visit of Pope Francis to Indonesia this September presents a rare and urgent opportunity. He urged the Holy Father to meet with a delegation from West Papua, led by Bishop Yanuarius You—the first indigenous bishop in the region. Such a gesture would not only be symbolic but revolutionary: a direct encounter with a people whose cries for freedom have echoed unheard for six decades.

Sixty Years of Silenced Suffering

For the Melanesian people of West Papua, whose culture is deeply rooted in Christianity, independence is not just a political goal—it is a condition for survival. Since the controversial annexation by Indonesia in the 1960s, these communities have found themselves marginalized, militarized, and erased. Their lands seized, their voices muted, and their existence treated as an inconvenience to the grand narrative of Indonesian unity.

General Bernard Mawen, who led a remarkable fifty-year guerrilla resistance against the Indonesian military, remains a symbol of the unyielding Papuan spirit. Alongside him, a chorus of freedom fighters—both armed and unarmed—have kept alive the dream of liberation, often at the cost of their lives.

When Faith Becomes Resistance

This fight is not only fought with weapons, but also with prayers, sermons, and silent defiance. West Papuan church leaders have long stood as moral sentinels against injustice. Markus Haluk, a lay leader from the Diocese of Jayapura and current Secretary of the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), summed it up best: “Since the Catholic Church first arrived in West Papua, bishops, priests, deacons, and religious men and women have consistently fought for justice, peace, and the dignity of our people.”

Some paid dearly for this commitment. Bishop Rudolf Staverman of Jayapura resigned in protest following the 1969 so-called “Act of Free Choice,” a sham referendum held under duress. Later, Bishop John Philip Saklil of Timika—launched the “furnace movement” to defend local communities from exploitation and displacement. His sudden death in 2019 has sparked allegations of assassination by Indonesian intelligence.

These men were not merely religious officials; they were prophets in a time of political darkness. Yet, despite their witness, their courage has yet to inspire meaningful action from the higher echelons of the global Church.

A Church That Cannot Remain Silent

Pope Francis’ upcoming visit to Indonesia is being hailed as a milestone in interreligious dialogue, particularly with the Islamic world. But if this trip is to be remembered for more than just diplomacy and photo ops, it must also address the grave injustices unfolding in West Papua.

The Indonesian government will undoubtedly showcase its pluralism, its “unity in diversity.” But the truth on the ground tells another story—one of repression, cultural erasure, and military occupation. For West Papuan Christians, who have been steadfast in their faith despite violence and marginalization, a word from the Pope could offer profound hope and moral validation.

As the Vicar of Christ and a herald of the poor and oppressed, Pope Francis has a unique moral obligation. He has spoken out for the Rohingya, for the Amazonian tribes, for migrants drowning at sea. Now is the time for him to speak for the people of West Papua—before their identity is lost forever in the jungle of geopolitical silence.

Let the cry of West Papua reach Rome. Let it echo in St. Peter’s Square. And let it not be said that the Church turned its face away when one of its most faithful flocks was being driven to the margins of history.