docA Political Ecology of Land Tenure in Timor Leste: Environmental
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A Political Ecology of Land Tenure in Timor Leste: Environmental
Peskiza foun kona ba Novas investigações sobre New research on Penelitian baru mengenai Timor-Leste 1 Proceedings of the Communicating New Research on Timor-Leste Conference, Centro Formação João Paulo II, Comoro, Dili, Timor-Leste, 30 June – 1 July 2011. Edited by Michael Leach, Nuno Canas Mendes, Antero B. da Silva, Bob Boughton and Alarico da Costa Ximenes. This collection first published in 2012 by the Timor-Leste Studies Association (www.tlstudies.org) Printed by Swinburne Press. Copyright © 2012 by Michael Leach, Nuno Canas Mendes, Antero B. da Silva, Bob Boughton, Alarico da Costa Ximenes and contributors. All papers published in this collection have been peer refereed. All rights reserved. Any reproductions, in whole or in part of this publication must be clearly attributed to the original publication and authors. Cover photo courtesy of UN Photo by Martine Perret. Design and book layout by Susana Barnes and Hannah Loney. ISBN 978-0-85590-832-4 2 Contents Lia Maklokek – Prefácio – Foreword – Prakata 6 Peskiza Foun kona ba Timor-Leste 8 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Timor-Leste no komplexidade Paises Sub-dezenvolvidu Antero Benedito da Silva ho Mario da Silva Carvalho Lulik: Valor Fundamental Timoroan Nian Jose ‘Josh’ Trindade Peskiza No Treinamentu JSMP Konaba Lei Jontra Violensia Domestika Francisca da Silva Arkiolojia Konstrusaun Ba Nasaun: Importansia Hosi Matenek Arkiolojia Ba Indentidade Nasional Timor-Leste Nian Nuno Vasco Oliveira Medisina Sosial iha Timor-Leste Tim Anderson [Tradusaun: Nuno Rodriguez] Sistema Halo To’os Uza Lehe Hodi Hasa’e Produsaun, Hamate Du’ut No Hadia Rai Marcos Correia Vidal ho Rob Williams Varidade ba batar balu, bele hetan produsaun aas, ho bele tahan ba fuhuk Felisberto A. Soares, Joao Bosco da Costa RB, Leandro C.R. Pereira Abril de Fatima ho Robert L. Williams Novas Investigações sobre Timor-Leste 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. Arqueologia e Nation Building: Importância do Conhecimento Arqueológico Para a Identidade Nacional de Timor-Leste Nuno Vasco Oliveira Registos Escritos, Memórias, Objectos e Saberes... A Importância do Conhecimento e da Recuperação da Informação Histórica Sobre Timor Para a História de Timor-Leste Ana Cristina Roque, Nuno Vasco Oliveira,Vítor Rosado Marques Para além do visível. Percepções de direitos humanos nos murais e graffiti de Timor-Leste Marisa Ramos Gonçalves Despontar do romance em Timor-Leste Isabel Moutinho Riqueza ou preço da noiva? Regimes morais em disputa nas negociações de casamento entre elites urbanas timorenses Kelly Silva Apresentar novas investigações sobre Timor-Leste: Percursos, estratégias e representações socioculturais de um grupo de estudantes timorenses em Portugal Dália Cristóvão, Pedro Nogueira O impacto da agricultura itinerante no bem-estar das populações rurais e nos ecossistemas naturais e semi-naturais de Timor-Leste Maria Jesus, Pedro Henriques, Pedro Laranjeira, Vanda Narciso Produção, consumo e importância da cultura do arroz: da colonização portuguesa a TimorLeste independente Jorge da Silva, Pedro Henriques, Fátima Jorge, Vanda Narciso O impacto do desempenho da Cooperativa Café Timor na satisfação e qualidade de vida dos seus membros Carlos da Conceição de Deus, Pedro Henriques, Fátima Jorge, Vanda Narciso O papel dos sistemas tradicionais de uso da terra no bem-estar das populações rurais de Timor-Leste Pedro Damião de Sousa Henriques, Vanda Narciso, Manuel Branco Notas sobre a política externa portuguesa e os interesses portugueses em Timor-Leste Nuno Canas Mendes 9 16 30 35 42 53 56 61 62 69 74 82 87 92 98 104 111 118 125 3 New Research on Timor-Leste 19. Talking in the fourth language: Oral English class discussion strategies and topic preferences in a Timor-Leste university Marcos Antonio Amaral, Agustinho da Conceição Anuno, Jose da Costa, Sancho Patricio, and James McLellan 20. Aid: is it worth it? Tim Anderson 21. Developing Museum to Museum Cultural Engagement between Australian and Timor-Leste Cecilia Assis and Robyn Sloggett 22. Health Professionals and Lawyers Understandings of Domestic Violence and the Domestic Violence Law: the 2011 Judicial System Monitoring Program survey Suzanne Belton 23. A Political Ecology of Land Tenure in Timor Leste: Environmental Contestation and Livelihood Impacts in the Nino Konis Santana National Park Alexander Cullen 24. Agronomic Responses and Nitrogen Use Efficiency of Local and Introduced Corn (Zea Mays L.) Genotypes to Different Levels and Sources of Nitrogen in Two Corn Growing Areas in TimorLeste Agustinho da Costa Ximenes 25. Popular Socialist Democracy of the RDTL 1 1975-1978 Antero Benedito da Silva 26. Social & Emotional Learning Mariano Dos Santos 27. The role of participatory arts in social change in Timor Leste: discussing outcomes for project stakeholders Kim Dunphy 28. A preliminary investigation into the history of the old fort at Maubara Steven Farram 29. Making Histories: Whose Stories Are Told? Some Considerations From Maubara Steven Farram and David Mearns 30. If My Aunty Had Balls, She’d Be My Uncle: Dubious Counter-Factuals in East Timorese History Clinton Fernandes 31. Modernising Timor-Leste: Moving beyond ideology Damian Grenfell 32. Gender Issues in Timor-Leste and the Pacific Islands: ‘Practical Needs’ and ‘Strategic Interests’ revisited Helen M. Hill 33. Mari Alkatiri: Islamic Identity and legitimacy in Timorese (inter-)National Politics Melissa Johnston 34. Family influences on long-term and short-term child growth in Ossu area, Timor-Leste Debra S Judge, Katherine A Sanders, Nadine Reghupathy, Pedro Canisio Amaral, and Lincoln H Schmitt 35. Domestic Violence in Timor-Leste: A New Law and New Obligations to Face Old Challenges Amrita Kapur 36. Information Access and Community Empowerment: The impact of media on civil and civic engagement in Bobonaro, Timor-Leste Jessica Knowles 37. FITUN: A preliminary history of a clandestine movement Michael Leach 38. Women’s Activism in Timor-Leste: A Case Study on Fighting Women Hannah Loney 39. The impact of policy on language and learning: the experience of teachers Marie Quinn 40. Timorese teachers as agents for change or replicators of the past? Ritesh Shah 41. State-led prosperity or ‘runaway state-building’? Timor-Leste’s new development strategy Dennis Shoesmith 42. Negotiating nation and tradition: Analyzing East-Timorese state-formation from the perspective of Brazilian Anthropology Kelly Silva and Daniel S. Simião 129 130 136 143 151 158 166 171 181 187 194 199 204 209 215 224 233 242 248 255 265 270 277 285 290 4 43. Mother tongue-based multilingual education: A new direction for Timor-Leste Kerry Taylor-Leech and Agustinho Caet 44. Prospects for the Establishment of a Community-Based Tourism Network in Timor-Leste Denis Tolkach, Brian King, and Michael Pearlman 45. Timor history 1974-1999: Finding, preserving and accessing primary sources John Waddingham New Research on Timor-Leste : Adult and Popular Education 46. Adult and Popular Education in Timor Leste Bob Boughton 47. Reflections on papers delivered: An international perspective: Remarks on papers presented in the thematic stream, ‘Adult and Popular Education In Development’, Understanding TimorLeste Conference Daniel Schugurensky 48. Maintaining a Civic Nation: social cohesion in Timor-Leste Paddy Tobias 49. Becoming a Nation of Readers in Timor-Leste Benjamim de Araújo e Corte-Real and Sjaak Kroon 50. Discourses about adult literacy and about liberation interwoven: recollections of the adult literacy campaign initiated in 1974/5 Estêvão Cabral and Marilyn Martin-Jones 51. Adult literacy in multilingual Timor-Leste: First results of a study Danielle Boon and Jeanne Kurvers 52. Fataluku Language and Literacy Uses and Attitudes in Timor-Leste Edegar da Conceição Savio, Jeanne Kurvers, Aone van Engelenhoven and Sjaak Kroon 53. Adult literacy, political participation and democracy Bob Boughton Penelitian Baru Mengenai Timor-Leste 54. Kepentingan dan Diplomasi Timor Leste di ASEAN Alarico da Costa Ximenes 55. Pengaruh Variasi Sudut Datang Pipa Pancar dan Debit Air Terhadap Unjuk Kerja Turbin Arus Lintang Tingkat ke Dua Domingos de Sousa Freitas 295 302 308 314 315 320 330 336 342 349 355 362 369 370 380 5 Lia Maklokek – Prefácio – Foreword - Prakata Papel sira inkluindu iha volume ne’e ba dahuluk prezenta ona iha Timor-Leste Studies Association nia konferensia: Hato’o Peskiza Foun kona ba Timor-Leste, ne’ebe organiza iha Centro Formação João Paulo II iha Comoro, Dili, Timor-Leste, 30 Junio – 1 Julio 2011. TLSA organisa konferensia ba dala tolu ona, dala uluk iha Melbourne (2005) no dala ruak iha Dili (2009). Delegasaun Timor oan no internasional sira atus ida resin mak hato’o sira nia hakerek durante loron rua resin. Karater distintu ida konferensia ne’e nian mak organiza iha lian ha’at: Tetun, Portugues, Indonesia no Ingles. Aprosimasaun ida ne’e reflete diversidade linguistika Timor-Leste nian, no la’o ho suksesu. Volume ida ne’e reflete aprosimasaun ne’e. Editor sira hakarak tebes hato’o obrigadu ba Universidade Nacional de Timor Lorosa’e (UNTL) nia parseiru ne’be halo atu bele hala’o konferencia ida ne’e, hamutuk ho Ministeriu Edukasaun Timor Leste nian, Swinburne University of Technology no Universidade Técnica de Lisboa. Ami partikularmente hato’o obrigadu ba hakerek nain sira no hein katak volume ida ne’e sei asiste estudante no akademiku sira iha Timor-Leste, no sira seluk ne’ebe iha rai liur, ne’ebe hakarak komprende diak liu tan desafiu no oportunidade oi-oin ne’be nasaun foun ida ne’e hasoru tuir tinan 10 independenisa nian. * As comunicações incluídas neste volume foram inicialmente apresentadas na conferência Apresentar Novas Investigações sobre Timor-Leste, organizada pela Timor-Leste Studies Association, no Centro de Formação João Paulo II, em Comoro, Díli, Timor-Leste, nos dias 30 de Junho e 1 de Julho de 2001. Esta foi a 3.ª conferência da TLSA, depois de Melbourne (2005) e Díli (2009). Mais de 100 conferencistas Timorenses e internacionais apresentaram os seus papers durante os dois dias. Uma das características distintivas da conferência foi o facto de ter decorrido em quatro línguas: Tetum-Díli, Português, Bahasa Indonesia e Inglês. Esta escolha reflete a pluralidade linguística de Timor-Leste e teve um grande êxito. Este volume, devidamente revisto por uma comissão de editores, espelha esta orientação. Os editores gostariam de agradecer à Universidade Nacional de Timor-Lorosa’e (UNTL), pela parceria que tornou esta conferência possível, assim como ao Ministério da Educação de Timor-Leste, à Swinburne University of Technology, ao Instituto Superior de Ciências Sociais e Políticas da Universidade Técnica de Lisboa (e também à Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia, no âmbito do projecto PTDC/CPO/71659/2006). Agradecemos em especial aos autores dos textos que agora se apresentam e esperamos que este volume possa ser útil aos estudantes e académicos em Timor-Leste, e também àqueles que, fora do país, desejam entender melhor os muitos desafios e oportunidades que esta nova nação enfrenta depois de 10 anos de independência. * The papers included in this volume were first presented at the Timor-Leste Studies Association’s Communicating New Research on Timor-Leste conference, held at the Centro Formação João Paulo II in Comoro, Dili, Timor-Leste, 30 June -1 July 2011. This was the 3rd TLSA conference, following our conferences in Melbourne (2005) and Dili (2009). More than 100 East Timorese and international delegates presented papers over two days. The conference was organised into four language streams; with papers presented in Tetum-Dili, Portuguese, Bahasa Indonesia and English. This approach reflected the linguistic diversity of Timor-Leste, and proved a great success. This volume of edited papers reflects this approach. The editors would like to thank the National University of Timor-Lorosa’e (UNTL) for the partnership that made this conference possible, along with the East Timorese Ministry of Education, Swinburne University of Technology, and the Technical University of Lisbon. Thanks also to Hannah Loney and 6 Susana Barnes for assistance in the production of this collection, and to James Scambary for his assistance in conference organisation. We particularly thank the authors of these papers, and once again hope that this volume will assist students and academics in Timor-Leste, and also those outside the country who wish to better understand the many challenges and opportunities facing this young nation after 10 years of independence. * Tulisan-tulisan yang dimuat dalam volume pertama ini sudah dipresentasikan oleh Timor-Leste Studies Association’s pada konferensi: Komunikasikan penelitian baru mengenai Timor-Leste, diselenggarakan di Centro Formação João Paulo II, Comoro, Dili, Timor-Leste, 30 Juni – 1 Juli 2011. Ini adalah Konferensi yang ke-3, setelah konferensi kami di Melbourne (2005) dan Dili (2009).Kurang lebih 100 warga Timor-Leste dan delegasi internasional mempresentasikan makalah selama dua hari. Konferensi ini diorganisir kedalam empat bahasa dengan makalah yang disajikan dalam Tetum-Dili, Portuguese, Bahasa Indonesia dan Inggris. Pendekatan ini mencerminkan keberagaman bahasa Timor-Leste, dan menujukkan sebuah kesuksesan.Pengeditan tulisan dalam volumen ini merefleksikan pendekatan dimaksud. Para editor ingin berterima kasih kepada Universitas Nasional Timor-Leste sebagai mirta atas penyelenggaraan konferensi ini Menteri Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Timor-Leste, Universitas Teknologi Swinburne, Dan Universitas Teknik Lisbon. Kami secara pribadi berterima kasih kepada para penulis makalah, dan diharapkan sekali lagi bahwa volumen ini akan membantu pelajar dan akademisi di Timor-Leste, dan juga yang berada di luar negeri yang ingin memahami lebih baik tantangan dan peluang yang banyak yang dihadapi negara yang baru ini Setelah 10 tahun kemerdekaannya. Michael Leach, Nuno Canas Mendes, Antero B. da Silva, Bob Boughton, Alarico da Costa Ximenes. 7 Peskiza foun kona ba Timor-Leste Editor ba artigu lia-Tetum Antero B. da Silva 8 I Timor-Leste no komplexidade Paises Sub-dezenvolvidu Antero Benedito da Silva1 ho Mario da Silva Carvalho2 Timor-Leste lista ona nudar Nasaun Sub-dezenvolvidu (LDCs) ida, no liu husi LDCs Watch Nepal, Organizasaun Sosiedade Sivil (CSOs) inkluindu universitariu Timor nian foin dadaun mak komesa involvean iha kestaun ne’e hahu tinan 2008. Artigu ida ne’e antigamente Peace and Conflict Studies InstituteUNTL no FONGTIL hatoo ba Forum LDCs nian iha Kuartel Regional ONU nian iha Bangkok fulan Outobru 2010, ne’ebe diskuti kestaun ruma konaba progresu no regresu dezenvolvlimentu besik tinan sanulu resin ne’e iha Timor-Leste. Ba dahuluk ami hakarak foti kestaun basiku sira relasiona ho LDCs nia indikador dezenvolvimentu; segundu, ami sei lori ba diskusaun istoria suksesu no desafios hodi bele realiza objektivu dezenvolvimentu sira ne’e balun inkluindu sira balun ne’ebe iha Objektivu Dezenvolvimentu Mileniu nian (MDGs), no sei kontinua ho diskusaun badak ida kona evolusaun Organizasaun Nao Governamentais (ONGs) iha RDTL antes remata ho perspektivu ruma kona nasaun RDTL nia diresaun sei posivelmente ba los iha ne’ebe. Indikador Dezenvolvimentu no BPoA Nu’dar nasaun foun, ho populasaun joven total 1.2 millaun, RDTL sai banati-nain ida (a follower), karik laos banati nain diak ida, ba ideas dominante sira, pratikas modelu dezenvolvimentu oi-oin no sira nia indikador. Historikamente, paises sub-dezenvolvidu sira (LDCs) mosu nu’dar produtu husi relasaun disegual sira nian ho nasaun sira famouzu ho naran dezenvolvidu iha parte norte planeta nee. Ba ami atu bele komprende kestaun barak LDCs nian, ami klaramente sei hetan tulun liu, se ami bele foti uluk kestaun basiku sira ne’ebe Timor-Leste tenta dadaun hodi hatoman-an ba. Ida, RDTL lista ona nudar pais subdezenvolvidu entre paises sub-dezenvolvidu 49 iha mundu ho karateristika ne’ebe defini husi Committee for Development Policy ONU nian. Karateristika sira nee mak: ida, rendementu ekonomika (GNP/GDP) kiik; Rua, Vulnerabilidade ekonomika ne’ebe inkluindu indikadores sira hanesan choques naturais, choques comercio, fasil hetan choques (exposure to shocks), ezemplu mak hanesan desastre naturais, ekonomia ne’ebe kiik-oan, no ekonomia remotas. Karateristika tolu mak kompostu husi indikador nutrisaun, saude, rejistrasaun iha eskola no alfabetizasaun, hotu ne’e hanaran “Human Assets Weakness.” Human Asset Weakness ne’e, la seluk, la let mak indikador dezenvolvimentu sosial ou dezenvolvimentu umana. Ami klaramente hakarak tebes atu hatoman-an ho Committee for Development Policy ONU nian ne’e, kona oinsa mak sira hamosu kriteriu sira ne’e no oinsa sira nia asesmentu oras ne’e dadaun, ne’ebe nasaun sira hasoru dadaun krise ekonomia no finansieru. Ita foti deit ezemplu, nasaun sira hanesan Iceland, Grecia, USA no agora nee dadaun mak Republika Irlandez, Portugal, Espana katak kuaze Europa tomak hasoru krise. Nasaun sira ne’e hotu sei luta ba sira nia sobrevivensia, luta hela atu kontinua eksiste iha merkadu finansieru nian. Tuir notisias, Portugal karik sei tuir tan ain fatin Iceland no Grecia no sei hetan krise ne’ebe seriu liu, economic rescession, kuaze kompania 1,200 ba leten ona mak taka-odamatan no sira trabalhador sira protest loron ba loron. Situasaun ne’e dita mai ita katak nasaun sira ne’ebe nia ekonomia altamente globalizadu no nakloke makaas ba merkadu finansieru mak la sustentavel no hatudu risku no choques boot liu no afeta makaas liu ba ema barak nia moris umana. Situasaun ne’e halo ita hanoin katak afinal crescimento ekonomika ne’e mos iha nia limitasaun. Kestaun daruak, mak LDCs nia indikador ne’ebe entre indikadores dezenvolvimentu barak mak ita uza iha mundu ne’e nu’dar sasukat ba progresu no regresu nasaun ida nian. Hanesan mos nasaun barak, 1 Antero Benedito da Silva, Direitor of Peace and Conflict Studies Institute, Fakuldade Siensia Sosial, Universidade Nacional de Timor-Lorosae, ne’ebe nu’dar mos Facal Point Nasional ba LDCs nian. 2 FONGTTIL 9 Timor-Leste mos dezenvolve ninia sasukat nasional rasik ne’ebe inkorpora mos MDGs, ami mos aprende dadaun GNH (Gross National Happiness) Bhutan nian, no indikador LDCs nian, ne’ebe inkluindu mos Programa Asaun Bruselas nian (BPoAs) nian. Istoria Suksesu no dezafios Ami hakarak temi hotu kedan BPoA nia objektivu sira iha nee, ba dahuluk, hodi tulun ami hatoo tan objektivu balun karik mak Governu RDTL observa ona tanba universalidade indikadores sira ne’e. Objektivu BPoA hitu mak: haburas modelu politika popular ida; Boa governansia iha nivel nasional no internasional; hari kapasidade umana no institusional; hari kapasidade produtivu hodi globalizasaun bele lao mos ba LDCs; hametin knar komersiu iha dezenvolvimentu; reduz vulnerabilidade no proteza meoambiente; mobiliza rikursu finansieru; Ami sei la halo esplikasaun detailas ba planu de asaun sira nee, maibe sei tenta hatoo informasaun jeral sira ne’ebe relasiona ho LDCs ninian indikador no ikus liu ami sei lori ba diskusaun pratika demokrasia iha Timor-Leste, ne’ebe mos ami observa nudar kestaun sabe ida iha forum ida ne’e. Ida, Human Assets Index; RDTL adopta politika edukasaun basiku universal ba ema hotu ne’ebe admite Timor oan sira husi kiik too ferik katuas, sira hotu ba eskola, ho nivel registu nian iha eskola primaria as to’o 82.7 pursentu tinan letivu 2008/9. Agora dadaun Estadu hari ona eskola 1,271 iha teritoria tomak, ne’ebe kompostu husi 1,012 eskola primaria, 168 eskolas pre-sekundariu, no 91 eskolas sekundariu (73 eskola jeneral no 19 eskola teknika). Governu RDTL projeta katak to’o tinan 2025, labarik Timor oan sira hotu sei kompleta eskola basiku obrigatoria tinan sia nian. Ho opoiu Governu Cubano, Governu RDTL gradua ona ema hamutuk nain 60,000 resin husi eskola adultu, numeru total pelumenos 300,000 analfabetu, ne’ebe kompostu husi kuaze 50 pursentu populasaun adultu nasaun nian. Suksesu ne’e hetan depois de Timor-Leste halo kampane intensivu iha tinan hat resin nia laran. Iha ensino superior RDTL hari ona Universidade Nasional ida, admite universidade privadu tolu, no instituisaun hanorin nian tolu tan ne’ebe oferese kursu iha area formasaun professores, trainamentu komputadores no siensia basiku sira seluk. Unika Universidade Nasional Timor-Lorosa’e tenki habo’ot ninian kapasidade atu bele simu graduadu kolejiu nian ne’ebe ninian total tinan hirak ikus kuaze 10,000 resin no sei progressivamente aumenta tinan ba tinan. Timor oan sira hamutuk liu 2000 mak estuda iha Indonesia, Governu parseiru sira barak mos mak oferese bolsu estudu ba pos-graduasaun no lisensiatura ba nasaun sira hanesan Irlandia Republika, Nova Zelandia, Australia, Hawai, Portugal no nasaun Asia balun tinan-tinan. Sistema edukasaun Timor nian maske nune’e tenki sujeitu ba transformasaun permanente hodi bele responde ba nesesidade nasaun no povu nian. Transformasaun ne’e inkluindu iha nivel politika katak edukasaun tenki ba ema hotu iha nivel hot-hotu. Governu tenki difini filosofia edukasaun ida mak korekta, hosi eduka ema sai sientifiku, umana, ida badaen naton, hodi sai ema mak ukun-rasik-an. Konserteza se ami nia sistema diak no konsegue kria surplus umanu ami mos bele exporta ami nian rikursu umanu, ne’ebe iha kapasidade, badaen no dignidade aas atu la sai atan ba kompania iha nasaun riku sira hanesan oras ne’e dadaun ami nia jovem sira ba iha Europa no Korea de Sul. Orsamentu Jeral Estadu nian tinan 2010 hatudu katak alokasaun orsamentu reduz ba 8.9 pursentu. Situasaun ne’e mosu tamba Governu atual halo kompromisu hari Mega Power plant energy, ho ambisaun atu kria industria iha Timor-Leste nu’dar dalan ba progressu, tuir modelu modernizasaun Europeu nian. Orsamentu menus tanba mos, Governu aloka osan maka’as ba rekoperasaun sosial no politika depois de krise 2006 no aloka fundu asistensia sosial ba veteranos luta nian. Dala ida tan, povu timor la 100 pursentu konkorda ho politika sira ne’e hotu, ne’ebe defaktu minimiza investimentu iha setor dezenvolvimentu sosial ne’ebe sustentavel. Oposisaun sira ne’e mos iha rasaun no responsavel. Nasaun sira ne’ebe halo suksesu, mak Singapura no Cuba, por ezemplu, tamba sira halo investimentu maka’as ba dezenvolvimentu sosial umanu, laos tamba sira riku iha rikursu naturais. Ezemplu seluk mak nasaun Japaun nian ne’ebe estagnadu ona iha nivel dezenvolvimentu fisika industrial no sira hahu muda paradigma ba dezenvolvimentu iha area seguransa umana. Tamba ne’e, kualker politika ne’ebe Governu RDTL halo mak implika alokasaun orsamentu menus ba sektor edukasaun, klaramente regresu ida ne’ebe Timor-Leste esperiensia. Universalmente aseitavel katak nasaun ida atu bele sustenta ninia performansia sosial iha setor edukasaun, 10 nia presiza pelumenos 20 pursentu husi Orsamentu Jeral Estadu kada tinan. Timor-Leste foin mak hahu dezenvolve no nasaun ida ne’e presiza liu dezenvolvimentu umanu atu aseguru partisipasaun popular ho matenek ba prosesu hot-hotu nasaun nian. Iha setor saude, RDTL halo mos kooperasaun ho Governu Cubano, maske Estados Unidos da Amerika halo blokeia ekonomia injusta kontra nasaun Caribia ne’e durante tinan 50 resin ona. Timor oan sira 700 resin mak estuda mediku no area seluk relasiona ho saude iha Cuba no estudante besik 300 mak eskola dadaun iha Timor-Leste, ne’ebe mediku Cubano sira mak supervisa mos. Estudante mediku 18 mak remata ona sira nia kursu fulan Setembru 2010 no hahu servisu ona iha Timor-Leste no estudante 400 resin mak tuir pratika no moris iha sosiedade nia laran hahu husi Dezembru 2010 too Marsu 2011. Ho populasaun 1.2m, Timor-Leste espera atu koloka mediku ida kada ema nain 1000 antes tinan 2015. Mas ami talves hasoru problema ida. Timor nu’dar zona estratejiku ba nasaun Asia no Pasifiku. Espalla ona notisia iha Timor katak instituisaun saude balun iha Australia hakarak hari Hospital privadu iha edifisiu ospital militar antigu nian. Maske ami seidauk bele justika kazu ne’e, mas agente sira iha Australia fo apoiu bolsu estudu ba Timor oan balun hodi foti doutoramentu kona jestaun ospital nian iha Darwin no Sdyney, no ami nia Ministro Saude Nelson Martins atual, derepenti, hetan titulu Professor husi Universidade Sydney. Ami hein katak, grupu interese sira iha Australia sei la-esplora oportunidade oi-tuan sira ne’e, hanesan sira halo ona ba rikursu minarai Timor nian durante okupasaun Indonesia nian. Hafoin, orsamentu estadu ba saude mos tun fali husi 9 pursentu ba mais ou menos 6 pursentu kada tinan, durante tinan tolu ikus nee. Daruak, indikador ekonomika sira mak rendementu ne’ebe kiik no vulnerabilidade ekonomika, nu’dar sasukat ba status LDCs nian. Felizmente, Timorense sira konsegue evita debe osan no orsamentu estadu nian hotu mai husi ami nia rikursu rasik desde tinan 2007. Montante Orsamentu Estadu kada tinan nian mak US$500m resin ba leten durante periodu tinan tolu ikus ne’e no total ne’e sei kontinua aumenta kada tinan, tanba Timor-Leste hetan benefisiu ona husi eksploitasaun rikursu minarai iha tasi Timor nian. Tinan hat ikus ne’e, Governu RDTL simu mais ou menos US$1billiaun kada tinan no 3 pursentu husi rikusoin petroleum nian, ho montante 500m nune’e kada tinan, usa hotu ba Orsamentu Estadu. Nune’e kuaze 90 pursentu Orsamentu Jeral de estadu depende liu ba Fundu Petroliferu. Petroleu mos sai ona nu’dar faktor primaria ne’ebe kontribui ba kresimentu ekonomika, ne’ebe tinan 2009 to’o kuaze 6-8 pursentu. GDP per kapita Non-Petroliferu tinan 2008 mak US$462 no figura ne’e karik aumenta ona tanba osan ne’ebe hetan husi tasi Timor nian. Maske nune’e, Timor-Leste kontinua infrenta problema seriu iha setor petroliferu nian tan rasaun balun tuir mai ne’e. Ida, Timor-Leste depende liu ba Australia no kompania multinasional sira iha area rikursu umanu, fator produsaun no kapital ba esplorasaun, eksploitasaun, prosesa no faan produtu ba merkadu nian. Rua, Timor-Leste estabiliza kooperasaun besik ho partikular liu Governu Norwegia, hodi dezenvolve rikursu umanu ne’ebe nesesita iha setor industria petroliferu maske Governu atual, desafia kooperasaun ne’e. Governu RDTL haruka mos ona klosan Timor oan sira hodi estuda geolojia no area sira ne’ebe relasiona ho industria petroliferu iha Universidade sira iha Indonesia no nasaun seluk, maibe sei lori tinan balun atu sira bele remata kursu no hetan badaen ne’ebe nesesariu antes sira finalmente kontribui ba projeitu nee. Tolu, Governu diskuti dadaun kompania Minarai Estadu ida no hein katak sei estabiliza kompanie ne’e iha futuru besik ne’e, hodi inisia esplorasaun no eksploitasaun minarai no gas iha zona sira ne’ebe konsidera tama iha area juridika Timor nian. Ida nee, posivelmente involve mos konstrusaun ho Sociedade Mista (Joint Venture) refinaria mina nian ida iha nasaun laran nu’dar base hodi dezenvolve peritu-matenek no bele mos hetan independensia oi-tuan iha area minarai no gas nian. Hat, Australia no kompania multi-nasional sira hori-uluk kedas no sei kontinua sai bareiras ba ami nia independensia no bareiras ba dezenvolvimentu iha zonas sira ne’ebe konsidera tama iha area soverania, to’o konvensaun internasional sira kona linea maritima hetan observasaun alta no implementa lolos-ona. Konflitu instransigenti kontinua kona eksploitasaun iha bloku minarai ida hanaran Greater sunrise, ne’ebe Australia hakarak kanaliza kadoras ba iha Darwin-Australia no Timor-Leste defende atu dada kadoras mai TimorLeste ne’ebe Timor konsidera sai kazu justisa ekonomia. Kompania minarai Australia ida naran Woodside simplesmente propoin solusaun seluk hodi hari LNG namlele iha tasi-laran, teknolojia ida ne’ebe seidauk eksiste iha mundu ne’e, ho folin ne’ebe konserteza makaas liu. Debate tan ne’e sei kontinua! 11 Ekonomia Timor nian maske nune’e, la bele depende deit ba industria gas no minarai. Iha nasaun barak ne’ebe produz minarai no gas sai malisan ida ba sira. Prof. Tim Anderson husi Universidade Sdyney, pur ezemplu argumenta katak industria petroliferu kria-fali sanarai-bani-ben nian (honey pot) hodi hamosu fali korupsaun no violasaun direitu ema nian. Iha Timor-Leste, ita espera katak ‘industria petroliferu no gas sei sai nu’dar dalan ba dezenvolvimentu iha area seluk’ iha futuru. Eksiste mos setores sira seluk hanesan agrikultura, turismu no finansieru domestika. Ministeriu Agrikultura Governu atual tenta adopta ona revolusaun verde hodi dezenvolve setor agrikultura, maibe aproximasaun ida ne’e sai problematiku ona iha nasaun barak iha mundu tanba, tantu nasaun ou povu nasaun ne’e nian sei laiha kontrola ba teknolojia no agrikultores sira tan ne’e too ikus fo sira nia vida tomak servisu ba poder ekonomia sira ne’ebe kontrola produsaun adubu, fini no makina agrikultura nian. Revolusaun verde oho hotu fini lokal povu nian ne’ebe habitua ona ho klima lokal no troka fali ho fini hibrida ne’ebe fasil hetan moras no folin karun. Agrikultures nasaun nian sei sosa fini hibrida durante sira nia vida tomak hodi kontribui ba kausa seluk, osan semo ba nasaun seluk, ou capital flight. Ba sa, povu fatin barak iha mundu horinebe kedas buka hela ona dalan alternativu, dalan ne’ebe uza menus enerjia konvensional hodi produz aihan makaas. Governu halo previsaun ida katak tinan 2030, Timor-Leste sei hetan auto-sufisiensia iha aihan, no sei produz produtus agrikultura oi-oin ba merkadu inkluindu “aihan basiku sira, aifuan, modo, no aihan sira seluk, produtus sira mai husi aihoris no produtus ikan nian.’ Previsaun ida ne’e irealista, se ami la hola dalan mak los. Ami fo ezemplu balun. Iha knua ida naran Hera lokaliza besik sidade Dili, kapital Timor nian. Durante tinan sanulu ikus ne’e sira mak sai supplier primaria ba modo-mutin ba populasaun iha Dili. Oras ne’e dadaun Governu hari ona Mega Power plan iha zona ne’e. Tinan hirak mai oin, Governu sei hari projetu rua: baze militar naval nian no Universidade Nasional. Projetu sira hanesan ne’e sei radikalmente reduz luan rai agrikultur katak mos reduz kapasidade produsaun ami nian. Klima Timor mos muda dadaun. Governu, karik la inklui fator sira ne’e nu’dar rekerementu ba sira nia previsaun. Iha ami nia opiniaun, Timor-Leste la presiza teoria Revolusaun Verde tomak deit, no la presiza iha ambisaun ida atu exporta ba nasaun seluk, maibe Timor presiza Revolusaun Metan Timor nian (black Timorese revolution) iha sistema agrikultura, sistema ida ne’ebe tenki abut mai husi tradisaun agrikultura Timor nian, tradisaun ida ne’ebe teknolojia alternativu povu nian sai nesesidade hodi produz aihan, laos ba exporta maibe ba auto-sufisiensia, hodi fo han ami nia familia sira no povu uluk, ida ne’e mak tenki sai ami nia prioridade. Se Governu simu konsellu ne’ebe sala, sei infelizmente falla iha politika ne’e. Setor turismu lokal sai area seluk ne’ebe sei importante hodi tulun sirkulasaun osan iha nasaun laran iha futuru, maibe dezenvolvimentu rikursu umanu iha area ne’e no fator kontribuidor sira hanesan infrastrutura amizade ba povu no ambiente sei presiza hari. Pontu ikus liu ami hakarak temi mak setor finansa. Timor iha reserva finansieru ne’ebe rai iha obrigasaun ou bonds Estado Amerika nian. Nu’dar interese tempu naruk nasaun nian, no konsidera mos krise finansieru iha sistema mundu kapitalista, TimorLeste sei adopta politika diversifikasaun obrigasaun estadu nian, atu bele investe mos iha moeda-osan nasaun seluk nian. Karik ida ne’e involve mos investimentu direta bilateral iha empresa estadu nian. Governu Timor konsidera opsaun stock market, maibe tamba krise finansieru opsaun ne’e sei hetan difikuldade iha implementasaun. Timor iha potensia mos ba hakiak mikro-kreditu sira ne’ebe komunidade mak inisia iha nasaun laran tomak, ne’ebe halao knar boot tebes iha ekonomia familiar. Aumenta ba ida nee, kleur ona desde Governu anteriores, iha ona sugestaun atu investe ba konstrusaun sistema finansial inovativu ida hodi dudu partisipasaun aktiva povu nian iha area ekonomia. Oras nee dadaun, eksiste ona banku estranjeiru tolu ne’ebe mak kontrola aktividade finansieru hanesan rai osan, kreditu no interkambiu iha Timor. Sistema ida ne’e mosu nudar parte integrante ba politika kooperasaun bilateral maibe mos kestaun neo-liberal durante periodu transisaun ONU nian. Eksiste mos dezenvolvimentu setor privadu nasional ne’ebe nurak tebes. Kompania konstrusaun Timor sira kompete projeitu sira finansia husi estadu no dehan katak sira hetan tusan barak iha banku estranjeiru sira ne’ebe ami temi ona ohin. Parlamentu halo hela inspeksaun ba sira. Ida ne’e hatudu mos katak Timor-Leste presiza visaun foun hodi rekonstrui ami nia sistema finansieru ida ne’ebe afavor ekonomia popular no tau limita ba osan semo sai husi Timor-Leste ba nasaun seluk, maske konsidera interkambiu moeda nu’dar kestaun estratejiku. Iha tinan hirak mai, Timor sei kontinua uza moeda 12 Amerika nian, tamba kapasidade sosa ami nia povu nian sei menos no produsaun interna seidauk maka’as hodi halo balansu ba sasan importa sira. Datolu, Politika dezenvolvimentu Popular (People Centred Policy of Development) nesesita pratika demokrasia foun ida, tipu demokrasia popular ida ne’ebe bele lori demokrasia fila ba ninia abut lolos nian: poder iha povu nia liman. Pratika demokrasia foun ida ne’e fundamentalmente sei choque malu ho tipu demokrasia no natureza estadu neo-liberal ne’ebe mundu pratika ohin loron. RDTL adopta tiha ona domokrasia multi-partidaria ne’ebe inisialmente dezenvolve mos iha Europa no Amerika norte, ne’ebe sai ona nu’dar modelu ida atu ema mundu rai-klaran hotu tuir. Maibe, realidade mak estadu nasional sira babain depende ba konsellu husi perseru internasional sira ne’ebe povu nunka hili. Instituisaun Finansa Internasional sira ne’e halo advokasia ba politika no aproximasaun top down ba dezenvolvimentu. RDTL, durante periodu tinan sanulu ikus ne’e iha ONU no IFI sira nia okos, la ses mos husi paradigma top down ou pratika estadu korporatismu ida nee. Frakeza seluk demokrasia multi-partidaria tipu ida ne’e mak laiha sustentabilidade iha politika estadu nian. Maskde ejiste politika sira ne’ebe los, dezenvolve husi rejime politika anteriores ne’ebe komprometidu ba kestaun sira hanesan justisa sosial no akuntabilidade publiku maibe dalabarak laiha garantia kontinuasaun politika sira ne’e tanba mudansa rejime implika ba politika sira ne’e. Ida nee esperiensia ida ne’ebe universalmente akontese iha sistema demokrasia multi-partidaria. Oinsa mka nasaun ida ne’ebe pratika demokrasia multi-partidaria bele aseguru politika iha areas prioridades nasional sira la bele kompromisu fali objektivu politika tempu badak sira no interese nasaun leur sira nian? Maske ONU no Governu Timor-Leste halo tentativas konsulta povu lokal bain-hira dezenvolve Planu Dezenvolvimentu Nasional tinan 2001/2, tempu ne’eba Timor-Leste sei lao iha periodu transitoria. Foin lalais nee, Governu atual halo mos konsultasaun distrital hodi dezenvolve Planu Estratejiku Dezenvolvimentu nian. Iha nasaun ida ne’ebe kuaze 50 pursentu ninia povu la hatene hakerek, esforsu sira ne’e sei dook liu husi planu dezenvolvimentu popular ida ne’ebe lolos nian. Maske planu ne’e importante, kritika sugere katak Planu Dezenvolvimentu Estratejiku nasaun nian ne’ebe Primeiru Ministru Xanana Gusmao halo foin lalais ne’e sai deit nu’dar dalan ida ba Governu hodi hetan lejitimidade foun ruma ba Governu ne’ebe durante ne’e hasoru kritika fenomena mal-governansia. Ida ne’e justa tanba rejime politika ne’ebe deit tenki hare fila fali ninia lejitimidade regularmente hodi aseguru katak rejime ne’e laos lidera iha rai fuik maran, ho bibi lubun boot. Governu atual tenta esplora mos estratejia dezentralizasaun, ne’e inkluindu mos re-estruturasaun governu lokal, maibe tanba laiha estudu ne’ebe profundu ba asuntu ne’e, objektivu ne’e sei la too iha pelemenus tinan lima mai oin. Buat ne’ebe posivel karik mak artikulasaun demokrasia liu husi hakbiit movimentu sosial no estrutura base sira no promove dezenvolvimentu husi karaik (dezenvolvimento rais), ho grass root democracy, ne’ebe FRETILIN desenvolve ona iha Bases de Apoio tinan 1976-78. Module ida ne’e, Governu Xinese tenta dezenvolve ona iha dekada rua ikus ne’e, no Cuba tenta halo reforma dadaun ba diresaun ida ne’e. Transformasaun Sektor Movimentu Sosial Tanba intervensaun humanitaria tinan 1999, numeru ONG sira aumenta makaas tebes no halo knar importante dezenvolvimentu iha setor hotu, maske sira mos halakon tiha knar kritiku organizasaun resistensia nian ne’ebe politika liu duke NGO sira neebe orienta deit ba projeitu sira. Tinan 2010, FONGTIL (Forum Organizasaun Nao Governamentais Timor-Leste) rejistu ona 434 NGO aktivu kompostu husi 70 INGOs no 36 NNGO. Maibe ONG sira ne’e buras iha modu hanesan mos Industria Umanitaria neebe runranga iha nasaun sul sira, ne’ebe dalabarak kria dependensia duke independensia nasional, hanesan dadaun kazu Afganistaun no Haiti oras ne’e. Hanesan mos nasaun barak, Timor-Lste konese mos terminolojia sira hanesan, DONGO (Donor’s NGOs). Observasaun validu hateten katak bain-hira organizasaun barak mak reklama involve-an halo buat ruma ba povu no dalaruma iha espiritu kompetitivu ba fundu no ba apoiu sira ikus mai la kontribui buat ida, maibe tenta deit sustenta sira nia relasaun patraun no kliente entre donor no sira ne’ebe simu fundu, ate too ba pontu ida, sira importa modelu dezenvolvimentu sira ne’ebe la relevante ba kontekstu lokal. Tinan 2006, unidade militar ida revolta iha Forsa Armada Timor-Leste nia laran kauza krise politika no sosial iha nasaun laran ne’ebe halo RDTL paralelu ba estadu falhadu. ONU nia istoria suksesu reduz husi hero ba zero. Tinan rua ikus nee, Governu 13 RDTL aloka ona osan estadu ne’ebe iha tinan 2010 mesak deit hamutuk US$2 ba CSO sira hodi partisipa iha dezenvolvimentu. Iha ona proposta 250 husi CSO sira ne’ebe halo servisu iha area oi-oin hanesan: hari kapasidade, agrikultura, saude basiku, hakbiit komunidade no projeitu buka rendementu ekonomika sira. Maibe intervensaun estado ne’e simplesmente lori terminolojia foun ba NGO sira. Kritika sosiedade hateten katak ONG sira Timor nian muda ona husi DONGO ba GONGO (Government NGOs), no sai orienta makaas liu tan ba projeitu duke politika no aktivu involve-an iha transformasaun permanente sosiedade ba objektivu resistensia nian ba daruak, libertasaun total povu maubere liu husi promosaun independensia ekonomika no politika. Maske osan ne’ebe ONG sira simu ne’e povu Timor nian, intervebsaun Governu nian ne’e mos lori tan debate foun ona identidade NGO no sosiedade sivil sira no sira nia agenda futuru iha sosiedade nia laran. Esperiensia sira seluk ne’ebe Timor-Leste iha mak, projetu humanitaria implika ba despolitizasaun CSOs, no dalabarak parseru internasional sira halo advokasia ba knar NGO ne’ebe apolitika (katak NGO tenki netral), ne’e inklui mos anti partido politika revolusionariu iha parte ida, no promove demokrasia iha parte seluk. Ida ne’e posisaun paradoks, nesesita hakaas-an iha ne’e hodi bele komprende ideolojia parseru internasional sira nee, iha kontekstu Timor-Leste nian. Partido politika sira laos NGO, no NGO sira laos mos partido politika, maibe tenki iha buat ruma ne’ebe komun, ezemplu mak kaer espiritu luta nian no valores fundamental sira hanesan justisa sosial, demokrasia popular no selukseluk tan hodi moris nafatin nu’dar makina iha konjuntura politika ohin loron nian hodi buka formatu ida ba sosiedade ida humana ne’ebe justa, solidariu no hakmatek. Tan nee, despolitizasaun nee kontra-produtivu. FONGTIL infrenta krise seluk tan mak kazu korupasaun. HASATIL (Haburas Agrikultura Sustentavel Timor-Leste) nu’dar sumrina ONG sira ne’ebe servisu ba agrikultura hetan ameasa atu taka, tamba korupsaun iha nivel estrutura ne’ebe posivelmente halo kolusaun ho auditor externa, no kazu ne’e laduak hetan solusaun to’o ohin loron. FONGTIL mos presiza jetsaun organizasaun sira ne’ebe tuir kanal informal sira mak hetan krise tan korupsaun no mal-jestaun inkluindu Fundacao Fatu Sinai (FFS) iha Oekusi, Rede Feto, no talves lista naruk liu tan se ita hakarak halo investigasaun seriu ba sektor CSOs. Uniaun Matan at sira nian hasoru mos problema hanesan, tamba direitor eksekutivu matan diak ida mak hetan alegasaun komite korupsaun, no Board Organizasaun ne’e hola ona auditoria interna no konsegue lori ona kazu ne’e ba Komisaun Anti-Korupsaun no Provedoria Direitu Umanu, hodi admite organizasaun ne’e kontinua ba matan sira nia nesesidade. Nune’e, ejiste nesesidade re-kontrusaun identidade NGO sira nian, no CSOs sira hotu hodi kaer knar foun sai objektivu primaria ba FONGTIL iha tempu badak. Dalan seluk, sosiedade rasik mak hamosu alternativu, ezemplu mak Uniaun Agrikultura Ermera (UNAER), hodi sira rasik mak dezenvolve movimentu iha base duke, intelektual sira uza povu nia naran hodi hamosu grupu ne’ebe ikus mai dependenti ba fundu humanitaria husi nasaun norte sira. Kestaun LDCs sei sai parte ba agenda FONGTIL no movimentu popular no sosial sira hotu iha Timor-Leste. Dala ida tan, ami koalia hodi nasaun kiik-oan ida ho populasaun jovem 1.2m ne’ebe mak hasoru problema balun hanesan mos nasaun barak iha mundu ohin loron. Sei halo saida? Ideas sira hanesan transformasaun permanente ou revolusaun permanente iha sistema demokrasia no sidadaun ne’ebe aktiva ita bele hare iha movimentu sosial no komunidade baze sira kontinua sai dalan potensiais atu ita bele halo buat ruma. Forum LDCs Asia nian nu’dar espasu foun ida mos mak Timor oan sira bele aproveita hodi partisipa iha diskursu rejional nian, no ami mos konsiente ba dedikasaun kolektivu ba povu no nasaun hotu ne’ebe representa iha nee atu bele servisu hamutuk ba ita hotu nia objektivu komun. Partisipasaun popular nesesita nivel alfabetizasaun ida ne’ebe alta, no povu tenki komprende konseitu basika sira hanesan estado, hari estadu, dezenvolvimentu no sira nia kompleksidade iha nivel nasional no internasional. Ba Timor-Leste, luta halakon analfabetismu, ne’ebe kria diskriminasaun sosial, sai nudar komitmentu nasional nian no ita hein katak tinan 2020, hanesa Governu RDTL hateten katak Timor-Leste sei libre husi analfabetismu. Kampane alfabetizasaun mos nu’dar prosesu politika ida no ita tenki uza dalan ne’e hodi aumenta konesementu politika ami nia povu hodi bele partisipa diak liu iha dezenvolvimentu no prosesu hari nasaun nian. 14 Bain-hira ami restaura ami nia independensia tinan 2002, ami kuaze lakon tiha hotu: lakon ami nia lideres prinsipais sira, pensador independensia nian. Sira nia numeru oras ne’e menus husi nain lima, husi lideres orijinal sira neebe konsegue moris ohin loron, no sira hotu kuaze lakleur tan lakon fuuk hotu, no sei mate, maibe luta tenki kontinua. Ami nia nai-ulun boot sira imajina no esperimenta ona Estado Sosialista Alternativu ida iha base da resistensia tinan 1976-1978, neebe kontraditoria ba sistema dominante, estado korporatismu no estadu kolonial ho neo kolonial nian. Ohin loron, ami hare katak iha nesesidade atu rekonstrui no re-afirma ami nia luta iha nivel ideas, esforsu ne’e inkluindu halo pergunta ba natureza estado no modelu dezenvolvimentu husi teoria dominante kapitalismu liberal nian. Ami tanba ne’e hare nesesidade ida boot tebes atu hakbiit ami nia lider futuru sira iha frenti hot-hotu hodi aumenta sira nia kapasidade intelektual no badaen iha luta foun nee, batalla permanente das ideas (the permanent battle of ideas). Timor-Leste nia komitmentu no kultura nasional mak solidariu ba luta povu nasaun sira ne’ebe ba liberdade. Ida nee obrigrasaun historika nu’dar ema umanu ne’ebe iha etapa ida iha ami nia historia sai nudar povu oprimidu, povu ne’ebe ema hanehan, no obrigasaun historika ida ne’ebe mos konsagra ona iha Constituisaun da Republika de RDTL no ami nia musika nasional, Patria, Patria. Tanba ne’e, ami gosta tebtebes atu aumenta intensidade relasaun solidariedade entre povu no nasaun sira. Nune’e, se loron ida, karik Timor-Leste graduadu tuir standard ONU nian nudar nasaun sub-dezenvolvidu, ami hein atu hametin solidariedade entre nasaun sul sira (south south cooperation) no internasionalismu popular sai ahi ne’ebe lakan ba nafatin hodi promove dame iha mundu rai-klaran. Bibliografia RDTL 2010, Millennium Development Goals, Timor-Leste. Lao Hamutuk 2009, ‘Timor-Leste Human Development Unchanged in 2007’, 9 October. LDC Watch 2011, Fighting for Justice, Peace and Human Rights of the Least Developed Countries, http://www.ldcwatch.org/index.php?option=com_jdownloads&Itemid=0&task=finish&cid=33&catid=3&lan g=en, viewed 1 May 2012. RDTL 2010, On Road to Peace and Prosperity, Office of thePrime Minister, Dili. Mario de Queiroz 2010, ‘East Timor Extends a Hand to Troubled Portugal’, Timor-Post, 18 November. Mario da Silva Carvalho 2010, Konversa Informal, Outobru, Bangkok. Mafalda, Gusmao 2011, Konversa Informal, Dezembru, Dili. 15 2 Lulik: Valor Fundamental Timoroan Nian Jose ‘Josh’ Trindade Introdusaun Ita tomak hatene ona kona ba termus Lulik hanesan baibain ita rona, Uma Lulik, rai Lulik, bee Lulik, fatin Lulik, foho Lulik, Na’i Lulik, Amu Lulik, nsst. Bainhira Timoroan rona liafuan Lulik, derepente sira hamriik iha fatin, sira fó atensaun, sira fó respeitu, sira ta’uk, no Lulik dada sira halo tuir no sira la husu buat barak. Sira tuir de’it saida mak Lulik haruka. Tanba lulik nia influensia makaas tebes ba Timoroan sira hanesan temi ona iha leten, ema balun interpreta katak lulik ne’e hanesan buat májiku ida. Maioria Timoroan sei halo tuir lulik, no lulik fó influensia makaas ba moris loroloron Timoroan nia, maibé investigasaun no dikusaun ba konseitu ida ne’e sei ki’ak tebetebes hosi akadémiku sira. Lulik hetan ataka makaas hosi ema rai liur ne’ebé mai iha Timor. Ezemplu, Igreja dehan katak Lulik ne’e hanesan fiar animismu ida ne’ebé la di’ak, Portugés sira dehan lulik ne’e “atrasado” no ema Indonezia dehan “terbelakang/ketinggalan zaman”. Tanba ataka hirak ne’e, Timoroan sira sai moe no lakon fiar an nu’udár sosiedade ida. Sira moe atu ko’alia kona ba lulik, tanba ema hosi rai liur dada sira hodi hanoin katak lulik ne’e buat negativu ida ne’ebé la di’ak. To’o ohin loron, Timoroan barak moe nafatin no ko’alia aat buat hirak ne’ebé sira nia beiala sira rai hela ba sira. Timoroan sira iha konhesimentu no rona kona ba lulik maibé saida loloos mak lulik sira ladún hatene. Artígu ida ne’e sei ko’alia kona ba ‘saida mak lulik’, ‘elementu hirak iha lulik nia laran no ita bele haree iha ne’ebé’, ‘aplikasaun lulik iha moris loroloron’, ‘lulik no kbiit external sira iha Timor-Leste’ no ‘oinsá lulik iha tempu agora daudaun’. Liu ida ne’e, artígu mós diskuti kona ba saida mak akontese bainhira Timoroan nega ka husik lerek lulik. Saida mak Lulik? Lulik mai hosi liafuan Tetun Terik ne’ebé literalmente bele tradús dehan ‘labele’ no ‘sagradu’. Konseitu lulik ne’e rasik ita bele hetan iha grupu etno-linguistika hotuhotu iha Timor laran tomak. Hodi Bunak dehan ‘po’, ho Naueti ema bolu ‘luli’, ho Fataluku ema dehan ‘tei’ no Makasae ema dehan ‘phalun’ Lulik refere ba mundu espíritual ka mundu kosmos ne’ebé ita labele haree ho matan, iha mundu ne’e nia laran iha na’in ida ka maromak, iha mós espíritu beiala sira nian, mundu ne’ebé mak moris nia hun no abut, no iha laran moos iha lei no regulamentu sira ne’ebé sagradu hodi regula relasaun entre ita ema no relasaun entre ema no natureza. Ba sosiedade Timor, lulik hanesan norma moral ne’ebé tetu ema nia halalok no determina saida mak bele halo no labele halo iha relasaun sosial entre Timoroan. `Iha relasaun entre ema, lulik determina ka regula saida mak Timoroan tenke halo iha sira nia moris sosial iha sosiedade nia laran. Iha momentu ne’e, lulik sai hanesan baze ba moral atu ita bele sukat saida mak di’ak no saida mak la di’ak/sala iha sosiedade. Nu’udár ezemplu, lulik regula relasaun, direitu no obrigasaun entre maun no alin, feen no la’en, fetosan no umane, labarik no inan-aman, feton no nan no ema individual ho ninia sosiedade, Iha relasaun entre ema no natureza, Lulik regula oinsá ita ema trata natureza (liuliu rai) ne’ebé suporta moris. Iha ne’e, lulik ijiji atu ita ema respeita sasán importante natureza nian hanesan rai, bee, ailaran/aihun, fatuk, nsst. Tanba ida ne’e mak Timoroan sira sempre halo ritual ka seremónia molok ku’u aihan iha toos no natar ka bainhira kuda fini. Seremónia no ritual hirak ne’e maneira ida hosi Timoroan sira hodi fó agredesimentu ba rai nia bokur ne’ebé fó ona rezultadu di’ak ba sira no sira he’in atu hetan kolheita di’ak liu tan iha tempu oinmai. Seremónia ‘sau batar’ molok ku’u batar nu’udár ezemplu ida no ida ne’e hanesan ritual ida ne’ebé importante tebes ba Timoroan sira. 16 Objetivu hosi lulik nu’udár filozofia ida mak garantia dame no hakmatek (trankuilidade) ba sosiedade tomak liu hosi mantein balansu entre valor sira ne’ebé la hanesan (ka iha opozisaun ba malu hanesan valor inan/femininu no valor aman/maskulinu). Ezemplu, Timoroan fiar katak, dame no trankuilidade bele hetan liu hosi balansu ne’ebé di’ak entre mundu naroman (mundu ita ema nian) no mundu nakukun (mundu espíritual nian). Iha ne’e, ema iha mundu naroman tenke halo tuir lei no regulamentu sagradu sira ne’ebé beiala sira hamoris tiha ona. Lei no regulamentu sagradu sira ne’e bele hanesan relasaun harmónia entre individual ida ho ninia familia, knua ida ho ninia sosiedade, nsst. Lei no regulamentu sagradu ne’e mós regula relasaun entre fetosan no umane ne’ebé relasaun ida ne’e tenke iha harmónia nia laran atu dame no hakmatek bele hetan no prosperidade bele buras iha ema nia leet. Lulik nu’udár sistema ida la’o tuir konseitu ‘dualizmu’ ne’ebé dezenvolve hosi antropolojia na’in ida naran Van Wouden (1968 [1935]). Iha konseitu ida ne’e, sempre iha buat oin rua ne’ebé kontraditóriu maibé sempre komplementa no fó balansu ba malu iha moris. Iha Timor-Leste, ita hatene iha tasi feto – tasi mane, rai ulun – rai ikun, fetosan – umane, belak – kaibauk, loron – fulan, nsst. Estrutura dualistiku ida ne’e antropolojia na’in sira uza barak hodi explika sosiedade iha Indonezia Leste inklui Timor-Leste (Trindade 2008, 178). Ita uza karik nosaun dualizmu, ita bele obzerva oinsá Lulik nu’udár sistema ida regula relasaun entre elementu/valor sira ne’ebé iha opozisaun ba malu iha moris maibé sira fó balansu no komplementa malu. Ita bele haree iha diagrama kraik tuirmai: Diagrama 1 – Mundu kosmolojia ho Lulik iha klaran (Lulik Circle) 17 Diagrama leten bele simplifika iha tabela kraik tuirmai: Lulik, nu’udár sentru ritual, nia mak konseitu ida, mundu kosmos, entidade ne’ebé aas liu, mundu espíritual nian, beiala sira nia fatin, hun ba moris, nível ba moral, valor fundamental (kabuar klaran liu) Mundu Femininu (klaran), reprezenta valor Mundu Masculine (liur), reprezenta valor masculine femininu mak dame, fertilidade no prosperidade mak seguransa no protesaun (kabuar ninin) (kabuar daruak) Rai Lalehan Kbiit Ritual Kbiit Politikal Uma Lulik Ritual nian Uma Lulik Politikal nian Dato/bei Liurai Valor Femininu Valor Maskulinu Umane Fetosan Fó moris Simu moris Indíjena Malae Tuan Foun Rain Na’in La’o Rai Valor Foun Valor Tuan Elementu tolu: Lulik, mundu femininu, mundu maskulinu liga malu metin no depende ba malu. Sira komplementa malu no sira nia relasaun asimetrik. Hirarkia hosi elemntu tolu ne’e hanesan tuirmai: • • • • ‘Lulik’ mak importante liu hosi elementu tolu ne’e tanba nia mak kaer valor importante liu ba sosiedade jeralmente. Ema fiar katak Lulik mak moris nia abut. Ita bele dehan, moris mai hosi mundu nakukun, hamoris na’in, ka maromak ne’ebé hela iha mundu lulik nia laran, nune’e duni lulik hanesan núkleus ba valor sira hotu. Ema ruma karik kontra lulik, entaun sira kontra sira nia moris nia abut, nune’e duni sira sei hetan malisan no sorte aat iha sira nia moris. Área importante daruak mak ‘área femininu’, dame no prosperiedade mai hosi ne’e. Área ida ne’e área feto ninian no área ida ne’e importante tebes tanba moris mai hosi lulik nia laran, liu hosi área femininu (feto) hafoin mak ba iha área maskulinu. Feto nia fertilidade importante tebes iha ne’e no ida ne’e feto nia pozisaun sai aas tebes iha sosiedade Timor nian. ‘Área maskulinu’ responsibliza hodi fó seguransa no protesaun ba área rua iha laran (mundu laran nian). Iha ne’e, área maskulinu/aman/mane proteje moris nia abut. Sira oferese protesaun no seguransa hodi troka ho valor femininu (valor moris ninia) hosi elementu rua iha laran. Rama oan rua reprezenta oinsá valor sira ne’ebé iha sulin iha diresaun opozisaun hodi kompleta malu. Valor femininu halai ba liur ba área maskulinu no valor maskulinu halai ba laran ba iha área femininu. Ita tenke nota katak kategozasaun iha leten hanesan atudu ia diagrama 1 laos buat ida ke mate iha fatin ou statik. Ne’e signifika katak, sira nebe tama iha area maskulinu bele muda ba iha area femininu ou husi femininu ba iha area maskulinu depende ba okasaun. Nudar familia ou individual ida bele sai hanesan umane ba feto hotu-hotu, no sai hanesan fetosan ba mane hotu-hotu iha ligasaun fetosan-umane. Ezemplu seluk, Timoroan sai rai nain wainhira sira iha sira nia fatin rasik maibe sira sai malae/estranjeiro wainhira sira ba iha fatin seluk. Buat ida la muda an mak Lulik. Lulik hela metin iha ninia fatin. Ita Bele Haree elementu Lulik Nian Iha Ne’ebé? Elementu hosi lulik bele haree iha uma lulik nia kakuluk. Ita bele haree iha foto kraik tuirmai: 18 Foto 1 – Uma Lulik iha Watulari, Viqueque. Fó atensaun ba karau dikur, manu Pombo no fitun. Haree mós kór metan, matak no mutin Foto 2 – Uma Lulik iha Mota Ulun, Liquica. Fó atensaun ba karau dikur, manu Pombo no fitun. Haree mós kór metan, matak no mutin 19 Foto 3 – Uma Lulik iha Buibela, Matebian, Viqueque. Fó atensaun ba karau dikur, manu Pombo no fitun. Haree mós kór metan, matak no mutin Foto hosi Giant Panda (http://www.panoramio.com/photo/1066495?source=wapi&referrer=kh.google.com) Hosi foto Uma Lulik tolu iha leten, ita haree karau dikur, manu pombu, fitun, kurasaun, nomós kór hanesan metan, matak no mutin. Símbolu no kór sira ne’e bele explika tuirmai: • • • Fitun no kór mutin - reprezenta lulik ne’e rasik, maromak, hamoris na’in, no espíritu beiala sira nian. Iha Diagrama 1, fitun no kór mutin nia fatin mak parte ida klaran liu iha kabuar lulik. Manu pombu no kór matak – reprezenta inan ka femininu, símbolu fertilidade, dame no prosperiedade nian. Iha uma lulik balun hanesan uma lulik hosi Bunak no Tetun Terik nian balun, sira uza ‘susun’ hodi reprezenta valor femininu, no baibain ita bele haree iha odamatan ka airiin. Iha Diagrama 1, manu pombu no kór matak nia fatin mak parte ida klaran daruak iha kabuar lulik. Karau dikur no kór metan – reprezenta aman ka maskulinu nu’udár símbolu ba forte, seguransa no protesaun. Iha Diagrama 1, karau dikur no kór metan nia fatin mak parte ida ninin liu iha kabuar lulik. Bainhira ita obzerva Uma Lulik barabarak besik liu tan, ita haree katak manu pombu no karau dikur ita bele haree momoos iha uma nia kakuluk, maibé fitun ne’ebé reprezenta valor fundamental (the core values) dala ruma ladún klaru, hanesan uma lulik kraik tuirmai: Foto 5 – Uma Lulik (hosi Venilale, liman karuk no Laga, liman loos) ho karau dikur no manu Pombo iha uma nia kakuluk (Foto hosi David Palazon) 20 Foto 6 – Uma Lulik nia kakuluk iha Liquica (Mambai sira nia uma). Sira uza fulan hodi representa valor femininu ou fertilidade Ezemplu seluk ita bele haree hosi livru Rui Cinatti nian ho títulu, “Tipos de casas timorenses e um rito de consagracão” (1965), hanesan iha kraik tuirmai: Foto 6 – Uma kakuluk hosi Mambai sira nian besik Maubisse Foto 7 – Dezenhu Uma Kakuluk bazeia ba Lospalos sira nia Uma Lulik hosi Rui Cinatti nia livru Foto 8 – Dezenhu Uma Lulik nia Kakuluk bazeia ba Uma hosi Oecusse/Baikeno hosi Rui Cinatti nia livru Foto 9 – Mambai nia Uma Lulik nia Kakuluk ida tan husi Rui Cinatti nia livru 21 Ita bele tau uma lulik nia kakuluk no ninia kór sira iha diagrama mundu kosmolojia Timoroan ninian hanesan tuirmai: Diagrama 2 – Uma Lulik nia kakuluk no kór tradisional iha mundu kosmolojia Timor nian Importante ba ita atu fó atensaun ba kór tolu ne’ebé hatudu iha diagrama leten tanba Timoroan sira uza kór sira ne’e hodi reprezenta sira nia filozofia moris nian. Idealmente bandeira nasional loloos uza kór hirak ne’e. Nune’e mós balada sira ne’ebé iha Uma Lulik nia kakuluk hanesan karau no pombu tenke sai símbolu nasional ba Timoroan nu’udár nasaun ida. Ida ne’e sei hamoris fundasaun ida ne’ebé forte hodi dezenvolve identidade nasional Timoroan nian di’ak liu tan. Lulik iha Moris Loroloron Lulik sei fó influensia makaas ba Timoroan sira nia moris loroloron iha asuntu kraik tuirmai: Sistema Fiar Sistema fiar Lulik nian rekonhese entidade ne’ebé aas liu ho naran ‘Maromak’. Nosaun Maromak iha kontextu ida ne’e la hanesan ho ‘Maromak’ ne’ebé iha Igreja Katolika, tanba ‘Maromak’ iha ninia konseitu orijinal reprezenta ideia fertilidade, mak femininu ne’ebé hosi Timoroan nia matan ‘Maromak’ ida ne’e mak hun hosi moris, dame, fertilidade no prosperiedade. Iha okaziaun ne’e ‘Maromak’ mak femininu ida, ninia jéneru mak feto (inan) no ida ne’e diferente ho Maromak Igreja nian tanba Igreja nia maromak ne’e ‘Aman Maromak’. Atu habadak, Timor iha ninia konseitu orijinal adora ‘Maromak Feto/Inan Maromak’ no Igreja adora ‘Maromak Mane/Aman Maromak’. Ema ida hosi lubuk ida, antropolojia na’in David Hicks (1984) ne’ebé estuda kona ba sistema fiar Timoroan nian konfirma figura femininu (feto/inan) ida iha Timoroan nian sistema fiar. Hicks hakerek katak, Timoroan nian mítu (myth) no ritual halai ba halai mai kona ba dualizmu no polaridade femininu/maskulinu. Iha distritu Viqueque iha fatin ne’ebé Hicks hala’o ninia peskiza ba ema Tetun Terik sira, fiar tradisional nian explika katak ita ema orijinalmente sa’e hosi kuak rua ka ‘vajina’ ho naran Mahuma no Leki Bui uza tali lulik hodi sa’e mai. Ema sira ne’e mak sai nu’udár beiala. Hicks mós nota katak, uma tradisional iha odamatan balun ne’ebé refere ba nu’udár ‘vajina’ no uma laran refere ba nu’udár 22 ‘knotak’, espasu femininu nian. Hicks explika liu tan katak, ema Tetun Terik iha Viqueque fahe sira nia mundu ba oin rua, mundu okos/nakukun no mundu leten/naroman ne’ebé mundu rua ne’e liga ba malu liu hosi ‘vajina’. Feto mak domina iha mundu okos/nakukun, mundu materna ne’ebé sagradu ka lulik no mane domina mundu leten/naroman, mundu paternal ka sekular. Mundu rua ne’e tenke la’o hamutuk iha harmónia nia laran, lae karik ki’uk/maran (infertilidade), moras no mate sei kona ema. Hicks hakerek katak feto nia knar importante tebes iha relijiaun Timoroan nian. Saida mak Hicks hetan hosi ema Tetun Terik iha Viqueque konsistente ho buat ne’ebé mak Cristalis ho Scott (2005) hetan, ne’ebé sira explika sira nia rezultadu peskiza katak: Kolesaun estátua ida, rai ho kuidade iha ai-balun nia laran, subar iha fatin segredu ida iha uma laran iha kapital Timor-Leste nian, Dili. Estátua furak ne’e feto ida ho ninia orgaun seksual hatudu momoos. Molok invazaun Indonezia, estátua hirak ne’e rai iha sira nia fatin espesial iha foho lulik nia leten no iha uma lulik nia laran, no Timoroan hahi’i/hana’i/hauelok/adora sira nu’udár symbol hosi fertilidade no kontinuasaun hosi jerasaun iha knua ka suku ida (11). Liu tan Maromak, Lulik mós rekonhese espíritu beiala sira nian (hirak ne’ebé mate ona). Timoroan fiar katak, espíritu beiala sira nian fó influensia pozitivu iha moris loroloron ka fó influensia negativu (la di’ak) bainhira falta respeitu ba espíritu hirak ne’e. Ida ne’e mak razaun tansá Timoroan fó respeitu aas ba sira ne’ebé mate ona. Ideia Jéneru no Feto nia Pozisaun Hanesan explika ona iha leten katak Timoroan nia relijiaun fiar ba entidade femininu ida ho naran ‘Maromak’. Nosaun ida ne’e defini ona kona ba feto nia importansia no sira nia pozisaun iha sosiedade Timor. Ema hahi’i/hana’i/hauelok/adora feto nia valor fertilidade. Iha kazu ida ne’e, Timoroan fiar katak feto mak sentru ba moris, moris sai hosi feto, feto mak bele ko’us, nune’e feto sai na’in ba moris no mane sai hosi feto. Nosaun ne’e diferente ho ideia Modernu/Kristaun/Oeste nian ne’ebé dehan katak mane mak sai na’in ba moris, mane mak hun hosi moris, Eva mai hosi Adaun nia ruin. Ita bele haree katak nosaun ida ne’e la di’ak ba feto nia pozisaun no pozisaun feto nian iha sosiedade namlele iha ne’e tanba ideia ida ne’e sujere katak feto tenke depende ba mane. Ida ne’e ideia inan ba patriarkial iha ita nia sisiedade. Bainhira ema hahi’i feto nia fertilidade, ida ne’e mós fó impaktu ne’ebé ladún di’ak ba feto tanba feto labele expresa sira nia seksualidade ka ko’alia kona be sira nia saude reproduktiva iha publiku. Baibain iha Timor ita rona ‘Feto hakat klot, Mane hakat luan’, ida ne’e hatudu katak mane sira ne’ebé okupa área maskulinu iha vantajen di’ak halo ligasaun ho liur ne’ebé nakonu ho matenek foun. Tanba ne’e mak durante tempu kolonial mane mak barak liu ba eskola tanba eskola sempre ligadu ho ema kolonial sira, ema hosi rai liur. Ligasaun ida ne’e akontese iha mundu maskulinu de’it, nune’e transferensia matenek hosi malae sira hola fatin iha mundu maskulinu no barak liu ho mane sira. Estatistika kona ba nível alfabetizasaun iha Timor-Leste hatudu momoos ida ne’e (mane aas liu feto – númeru mane ne’ebé edukadu barak liu feto). Iha sosiedade Timor, ita refere ba feto dehan ‘Feto Maromak’. Baibain ita rona ema dehan, “respeita feto maromak’. Ita respeita feto, tanba hanesan explika ona iha leten, mane hotuhotu mai hosi feto. Idealmente, labele iha violensia hasoru feto tanba sira mak moris nia hun. Teoria kona ba posisaun feto tuir konseitu Lulik iha sociedade Timor-Leste furak tebtebes, maibe artigu ne’e rekuinhese katak agora dadaun seidauk iha balansu entre feto ho mane iha vida sosial, ekonimia no politik. Feto nia involvementu iha area sira ne’e sei minmu tebtebes. Atu dada feto sira sai husi area femininu (area domestiku) hodi partisipa iha vida sosial, ekonomiku no politika iha area maskulinu (area externu) presija kapasidade/skill nebe subsiente. Ida ne’e la’os deit aplika ba feto maibe mane mos tenke iha kulidade natoon hodi bele partisipa iha vida sosial, ekonomiku no politika. Ho lian seluk ita bele dehan, mane sira nebe laiha kapasidade/skill sira mos labele partispa iha area sosial, ekonomiku no politika. Tamba ne’e ita la bele fo kulpa ba falta partisipasaun feto ba kultura lokal ou mane Timoroan, maibe ida ne’e kulpa istoria kolonial ninian. Ida ne’e tanba besik sekulu 5 nia laran durante tempu okupasaun kolonial, mane Timoroan iha opsaun nebe limitadu no moris iha presaun nia laran. Kondisaun ida ne’e la fo oportunidade ba feto sira hodi livre desenvolve sira nia kapasidade ou ba eskola. Nune’e mos ema kolonial 23 sira prefere servisu ho mane, tamba ne’e mane iha oportunidade luan liu atu desenvolve sira nia kapasidade. Tanba ida ne’e mak ita hare estatistika kona ba nivel edukasaun mane nian as liu feto sira no ida ne’e kulpa kolonial nian laos kulpa kultura. Aktivista jeneru nasional no internasional sira iha Timor-Leste promove no kampanha kona ba ideias feminismu liberal (luta kontra ideias patriarkhal) maibe falta konsiderasaun ba iha konseitu/perspetivu lokal kona ba jeneru. Timoroan ninia definisaun kultural kona feto, sira nia posisaun iha sosiedade, status no kontribusaun ba iha moris diak familia nia no sosiedade jeralmente, falta rekhuinesementu no iha ema balun hanoin buat hirak ne’e laiha. Ema barak hanoin Timoroan nian konseitu kona ba jeneru atrasado tebes no laiha buat positive ruma husi konseitu kultural nebe beaila sira rai hela mai ita. Ida ne’e laos deit ignorante, maibe mos hanesan humiliasaun (hateke tun) ida ba konseitu lokal. Idealmente, Timoroan sira tenke buka tuir no koko atu kompriende oinsa feto sira nia knar, posisaun no status defini iha Timor nia kultura. Halo kampanhia kona ba feminismu liberal iha nasaun foun ida hanesan Timor-Leste labele lao idak tamba feminismu liberal hare liu ba ema individual, wainhira kultura Timor labele haketak individual ida, feto ka mane, husi sira nia relasaun nebe kompleksu ho sira nia familia no sosiedade. Iha parte seluk, laiha siguransa sosial wanhira ita hakat liu familia iha nasaun foun Timor-Leste tamba nudar nasaun ida, Timor-Leste sei falta infrastutura no sistema sira hodi supporta ideias liberalismu hodi lao ba oin. Ida tan mos, feminismu liberal foka liu ba valor ekonomiku feto nia no definisaun kultural defini feto liu ida ne’e. Nudar ijemplu, kultura Timor defini feto nia valor fetilidade nebe sai fontes ba moris (valor ritual feto nian) iha valor ekonomiku nia sorin Sistema Politika Iha sistema politika Timoroan nian rekonhese importansia hosi autoridade nu’udár fontes ba lejitimasaun politika iha poder nia sorin. Iha Timor nia konseitu, autoridade no poder sempre komprende hamutuk maibé iha separasaun ne’ebé klaru iha ninia jéneru (inan no aman). Iha ne’e, autoridade mak inan/femininu no poder maka aman/maskulinu. Bainhira autoridade mak la iha ho poder ka poder mak la iha ho autoridade rezulta dizastre ba sosiedade. Atu hamoris harmónia iha sosiedade nia laran, autoridade no poder tenke halo verifikasaun no fó balansu (check & balance) ba malu. Fox (2008) fó sumáriu katak, sentru ba governasaun tuir tradisaun Timoroan nian mak autoridade no poder fahe malu. Ideia autoridade mak aas liu iha konsietu governasaun ne’ebé ida ne’e reprezenta unidade nia laran (inner unity); símbolikamente iha karakteristiku femininu, iha fatin de’it, nonok. Kontrariu ho ida ne’e, kbiit bele oioin no barak, símbolikamente maskulinu, ativu, barulhu. Sé de’it ka saida de’it mak iha poder, labele halo asaun bainhira la iha lisensa ka rekonhesimentu hosi autoridade. Poder bele ko’alia hodi autoridade nia naran, maibé nia la’os autoridade ou nia bele sai hanesan autoridade se la husik ninia rekursu ba forsa. Bainhira la iha diferensia ba autoridade, poder ne’ebé forsa liu mós bele lakon ninia aliansa. Maibé ho autoridade, sei iha balansu – iha poder ne’ebé oioin – ne’ebé repete no kompleta malu. Tanba ne’e iha Timor iha variedade nível ba delegasaun poder ne’ebé bele verifika no fó balansu ba malu no mantein koherensia hodi hasoru inimigu (p.121). Iha Lulik nia estrutura politika, iha Dato (autoridade) ho naran ‘Liurai Tur Fatin’ ne’ebé fó orden ba ‘Liurai La’o Rai’ (poder), liurai ne’ebé exekuta orden no halo ligasaun ho ema hosi liur. Iha kazu ida ne’e, Liurai Tur Fatin konsidera hanesan femininu ho autoridade ka Liurai Feto no Liurai La’o Rai konsidera hanesan maskulinu ho poder ka Liurai Mane. Ohin loron bainhira ema temi dehan ‘Liurai’, ida ne’e maioria refere ba Liurai Mane símbolu hosi politik na’in iha suku laran ida. Ema hotu konhese no hatene liurai ida ne’e tanba sira baibain halo ligasaun ba liur, tanba ne’e sira nia naran ema hotu hatene, maibé iha sira nia estrutura interna sira hakruk ba Liurai Tur Fatin (Dato). Sistema politika Timoroan nian ne’ebé explika iha leten simplifika iha diagrama kraik tuirmai: 24 Diagrama 3 – Sistema politika iha mundu kosmolojia Timor nian Agora dadaun iha kontestu nasaun-estadu, knar Liurai tradisional nian Chefe Suko sira mak agora troka. Ida ne’e mak rasaun tamba sa mak buat hotu-hotu wainhira tama iha Suko laran ida sempre liu husi Chefe Suko. Iha okasaun ne’e, Chefe Suko (uluk Liurai) sai hanesan portaun (odamatan boot), mahein (guarda), nebe simu bainaka no halo ligasaun ba rai liur. Ida ne’e muda Liurai tradisional sira nia knar sai hanesan simbolik no ritualistik. Signifika katak, Liurai tradisional sira nia knar agora dadaun hanesan simbolik ou femininu (ritual), laos knar maskulinu (politik) hanesan tempu uluk. Oinsá Lulik fó Kastigu Ema? Timoroan fiar katak, bainhira iha ema ida kontra Lulik, nia sei hetan kastigu iha ninia moris daudaun nian la’ós bainhira nia mate ona. Kastigu ida ne’e la’ós de’it individual refere (ema ne’ebé kontra Lulik) mak hetan maibé kastigu mós bele kona ninia inan-aman, maun, alin, feton, ka memberu familia seluk no bele ninia komunidade tomak. Ema ne’ebé kontra lulik bele hetan kastigu ohin, aban, bainrua, semana oin, fulan oin ka tinan oin. Kastigu hosi Lulik mak hanaran ‘malisan ou babeur’. Timoroan dala barak interpreta sorte aat, susar, terus ka mizeria seluk iha sira nia moris hanesan malisan ou babeur ida. Ezemplu, bainhira iha moras ruma no dotór sira kura labele, Timoroan sira interpreta katak ida ne’e dala ruma tanba la halo tuir buat hirak ne’ebé lulik regula ona. Nune’e mós bainhira feto ida susar hahoris ninia kosokoan, ema barak interpreta katak ida ne’e dala ruma relasaun entre feton no nan ladún di’ak iha uma laran ka iha konflitu ruma iha uma laran. Bainhira sosiedade la halo tuir buat hirak ne’ebé lulik determina ona, malisan sei kona sosiedade tomak hanesan sei iha konflitu no dizastre, hanesan, dizastre naturais, sosial, ka politikal. Daudaun ne’e, Timoroan barak, liuliu sira ne’ebé hela iha foho interpreta katak, sosiedade Timor nu’udár nasaun ida husik lerek ona nosaun Lulik no sira depende liu ba valor sira ne’ebé importa hosi liur. Rezultadu hosi hahalok ne’e mak la iha balansu entre valor rai laran (valor tradisional/valor inan/valor femininu) no valor hosi liur (valor modernu/valor aman/valor maskulinu). Kondisaun ida ne’e hanesan babeur ka malisan ida ba Timoroan sira, tanba ne’e mak krize hanesan 2006 mosu iha Timoroan nia leet. Timoroan sira haree katak krize 2006 hanesan malisan ka babeur ida ba nasaun Timor-Leste tomak. 25 Lulik no Poder External iha Timor-Leste Igreja Katolika Igreja Katolika no Administrasaun Kolonial Portugés la’ós de’it adopta no uza konseitu lulik ba sira nia vantajen maibé mós sira kritika no ko’alia aat dehan Lulik ne’e buat ida ne’ebé la di’ak. Tanba ne’e Timoroan barak ohin loron haree katak lulik ne’e hanesan fiar ida ne’ebé negativu no la di’ak. Hanesan explika ona iha leten katak, igreja adopta nosaun ‘Maromak’ hosi sistema fiar tuir tradisaun Timor nian no sira muda ninia jéneru hosi femininu ba maskulinu atu nunu’e ‘Maromak’ bele hanesan Igreja nia konseitu ‘Deus/Zeus/Yahwe’. La’ós ne’e de’it, Igreja adopta mos títulu lulik ‘Maromak Oan’ hosi ukun na’in Wehali nian ne’ebé aas liu hodi refere ba Jezús Kristu. ‘Maromak Oan’ iha Wehali refere ba entidade feto ida maibé ninia isin lolon mane. Baibain ema bolu Liurai Feto, maibé nia isin mane (haree Therik 2004). Daudaun ne’e ‘Maromak Oan’ sei iha nafatin ohin loron iha suco Wehali iha parte tasi feto Atambua nian iha Timor Osidental ne’ebá. Ilustrasaun iha leten explika kona ba oinsá Igreja Katolika uza nosaun Lulik hodi establese sira nia an hodi habelar dotrina Igreja nian iha Timor tomak. Bainhira Igreja adopta termus lokal sira hanesan “Maromak”, “Maromak Oan”, “Na’i Lulik”, no “Amu Lulik”, hatudu momoos katak sira establese sira nia an iha Lulik nia kotuk. Ida ne’e fó vantajen di’ak ba Igreja hodi existe iha Timor no ladún iha rezistensia ba Igreja tanba ida ne’e. Foto 10 – Igreja ida iha Venilale ne’ebé nia modelu atu hanesan uma lulik no uza símbolu Lulik hanesan karau dikur Foto hosi Luis C (http://www.panoramio.com/photo/14594221?source=wapi&referrer=kh.google.com) Administrasaun Kolonial Portugés (AKP) La hanesan Igreja Katolika, AKP uza meius seluk hodi manipula nosaun Lulik ba sira nia vantajen. Molok AKP sai hosi Timor, sira hanesan instituisaun ida ne’ebé iha lijitimidade hosi sistema Lulik. Hodi aguenta iha Timor-Leste no hodi prevene rebiliaun hosi Liurai lokal sira, AKP halo meius hanesan kraik tuirmai: • Fahe Rota, Bandeira, Sapeo no Livru ba Uma Lulik hotu iha Timor Laran Tomak Bainhira sasán sira ne’ebé temi iha leten distribui ona ba Uma Lulik hotuhotu iha Timor-Leste, AKP husu ba Liurai no Dato sira atu rai sasán hirak ne’e iha Uma Lulik nia laran no sasán hirak ne’e sai Lulik no importante iha Uma Lulik nia laran. To’o agora, sasán hirak ne’e sei iha nafatin Uma Lulik sira nia laran. 26 Bainhira ida ne’e akontese, Liurai sira susar tebes halo funu kontra ukun AKP tanba sira rai AKP nia sasán sai hanesan Sasán Lulik ne’ebé importante iha Uma Lulik nia laran. Ho meius ida ne’e, AKP establese ninia an ho lejitimasaun hosi Lulik no sira sai instituisaun ida ne’ebé hetan lijitimidade lokal hodi existe iha Timor. • Establese Relasaun Fetosan-Umane ho Timoroan Esforsu ida tan ne’ebé AKP halo hodi prevene rebelde hosi Liurai lokal sira mak sira kaben ho feto Timoroan sira hodi hamoris relasaun fetosan-umane. Esforsu ida ne’e la’o ho di’ak tanba tuir konseitu Lulik relasaun fetosan-umane hanesan relasaun ida ne’ebé sagradu (Lulik). Ema ne’ebé iha relasaun Fetosan-Umane labele iha konflitu ba malu, labele funu malu no labele haree malu la di’ak. Laran tenke moos ba malu no tenke ajuda malu. • Hemu-Ran/Juramentu Atu moris iha dame no hakmatek nia laran, Timoroan uza meius oioin hodi hamoris relasaun ne’ebé di’ak entre sira. Bainhira relasaun Fetosan-Umane labele hamoris, dalan seluk atu hamoris unidade ne’ebé tahan kleur hosi jerasaun ba jerasaun mak liu hosi juramentu ka ‘hemu-ran’. Hemu-ran hanesan ritual ida ne’ebé sagradu (Lulik). Ema ne’ebé partisipa iha ritual hemu-ran tenke fiar malu no ajuda malu hosi jerasaun ba jerasaun. Hemu-ran halo relasaun entre ema rua/familia rua/knua rua sai metin. AKP sira mós futu relasaun ho Liurai loka sira liu hosi hemu-ran. Ida ne’e hanesan evidensia ida ne’ebé hatudu katak sira uza konseitu lulik ka dalan kultura nian hodi mai ukun rai Timor. Okupasaun Indonezia Nian La hanesan ho Igreja Katolika no AKP ne’ebé manipula no uza konseitu Lulik ba sira nia vantajen, okupasaun Indonezia durante tinan 24 ignora nosaun Lulik. Invazaun Indonezia uza kampainha militar ne’ebé violente kahur ho fase kakutak Timoroan nian ho ideolojia Pancasila (prinsipiu 5) ne’ebé hamosu rezistensia hosi Timoroan iha rai laran. Rezultadu hosi ida ne’e mak, Timoroan sira vota sai Indonezia nia okupasaun liu hosi referendu iha 1999. Rezistensia kontra invazaun Indonezia ita bele dehan mai hosi valor fundamental ka Lulik ne’e rasik, tanba tuir perspektivu Lulik prezensa Indonezia nian la ho lejitimidade lokal ka lejitimidade hosi Lulik. Realidade hatudu katak, Timoroan sira uza nosaun Lulik nu’udár forsa ida hodi funu hasoru invazaun Indonezia. McWilliam (2005) nota katak, movementu rezistensia klandestina bele moris nafatin tanba uza relasaun/ligasaun ida bazeia ba ligasaun uma lulik nian ne’ebé fasilita suporta komunikasaun no lojistika ba funu na’in sira. Lulik iha Tempu Agora Nível Lokal Iha nível lokal iha área rural iha Timor-Leste Lulik sei moris nafatin no maioria populasaun sei pratika nafatin iha sira nia moris loroloron. Hari’i filafali Uma Lulik iha rai laran tomak sinál ida katak lulik sei iha futuru di’ak iha Timor-Leste. Ida ne’e mós hanesan mensajen ida katak Timoroan sira hakarak prezerva sira nia valor kulturais, moris nafatin no hetan respeitu iha moris kontemporariu. Iha nível Suku, lei no regulamentu Lulik nia hanaran ‘bandu’ sei iha knar ne’ebé importante tebes hodi rezolve konflitu entre individual, familia ka komunidade iha rai laran tomak. Konflitu ne’ebé mak rezolve uza konseitu Lulik nian mak hanesan konflitu kona ba rai ka rekursu naturais seluk. Bainhira lei formal dala ruma komplikadu liu atu asesu, komunidade sira halai ba lei Lulik ninian tanba lei ida ne’e moris iha komunidade nia leet no bele asesu ho baratu. Vantajen ida hosi Lulik nia lei no regulamnetu mak, Timoroan iha área rural sente katak prosesu ida ne’e hanesan sira nian rasik, sira mak na’in ba prosesu ida ne’e no sira iha konhesimentu ba prosesu ida ne’e. Sira iha fiar ba prosesu ida ne’e tanba prosesu bandu iha tiha ona hosi tempu uluk kedas no prova ona ho tempu. 27 Nível Nasional Lider Timoroan barak mak ta’uk ka moe atu admiti katak Lulik ne’e iha duni. Sira hatene katak Lulik ne’e iha duni maibé ofisialmente sira nega bele karik dala ruma sira tuir no halo tuir iha pratika moris loroloron ho nonok de’it. Instituisaun estadu Timor-Leste ninian tuir vizaun Lulik ninia sei hanesan instituisaun external tanba relasaun di’ak entre entidade rua ne’e seidauk establese no estadu Timor-Leste seidauk rekonhese no adopta valor Lulik iha ninia ejixensia. Bainhira fenómena ida ne’e kontinua, Timoroan sira fiar katak nasaun ida ne’e sei hetan konflitu politika no violensia barak iha futuru. Relasaun violentu entre partidu politika sira no grupu oioin hosi Timoroan sira mak bele explika liu hosi diagrama kraik ne’e. Diagrama 4 – Lulik liha nível nasional Diagrama iha leten hatudu katak, iha nível nasional Timoroan rekonhese, existe no hala’o moris nasaun iha de’it área politikal/maskulinu/kbiit no sira depende liu ba valor modernu ne’ebé importa hosi rai liur mai no ignora/nega tiha valor rai laran nian hanesan Lulik nia valor. Hanesan explika uluk tiha ona katak, bainhira área tolu ne’e la la’o hamutuk, ka iha lian seluk ita bele dehan, bainhira poder la iha ho autoridade, maskulinu la ho femininu, politika la ho ritual atu fó balansu no komplementa malu, mak sei tau sosiedade tomak iha risku nia laran. Bele dúvida, maibé fenómena ida ne’e kontribui ba violensia ne’ebé akontese iha Timor-Leste hosi 1999 ba leten. Ezemplu dezharmónia seluk entre konseitu Lulik no kriasaun Estadu Timor-Leste refleta iha knanuk nasional (hino nasional) ne’ebé Timoroan sira hananu ‘Patria, Patria’ (rai aman, rai aman). Ida ne’e kontra konseitu Lulik, tanba Timoroan hosi grupu lingua tomak refere ba rai nu’udár ‘inan ida’ ka ‘rai inan’, nune’e duni rain ne’e femininu (rai inan) la’ós makulinu (rai aman). Rai ne’e femininu no hanesan inan ida tanba rai fó nia bokur ba ita ema hodi moris, hanesan mós inan ida ne’ebé fó nia susubeen ba kosokoan hodi moris. Saida mak solusaun? Ita la presiza siénsia espasial na’in nian hodi hanoin ba ida ne’e. Timor-Leste nu’udár estadu ida bele aprende hosi experiensia Igreja Katolika nian no Administrasaun Kolonial Portugés nian ne’ebé adapta no uza sistema no valor lokal hodi hametin sira nia existensia iha Timor-Leste hanesan explika ona iha leten. 28 Konkluzaun Lulik nu’udár valor fundamental Timoroan nian tenke hetan rekonhesimentu, suporta, no protesaun rasik no labele haree Lulik hanesan fali ameasa ida ba estadu maibé tenke haree ida ne’e hanesan rekursu ida hodi dezenvolve nasaun ne’e ba oin. Konstituisaun RDTL artugu 59.5 mós asegura katak, “ema hotuhotu iha diretu ba aproveitas kultural (cultural enjoyment) no kreatividade no mós obrigasaun atu prezerva, proteje no hafolin patrimóniu kultural" Atu hamoris dame ba tempu naruk iha Tiimor-Leste, estadu Timor-Leste tenke rekonhese no hatama valor tradisional balun ne’ebé importante ba Timoroan sira hanesan explika ona iha leten. Atu halo ida ne’e bele liu hosi dalan hanesan juramentu nasional, distribui símbolu nasional sira ba Uma Lulik tomak, rekonhese lider tradisional sira nia knar, nsst. Lulik nu’udár valor fundamental Timoroan nian tenke inklui iha kuríkulu eskola nian atu nune’e jerasaun foun iha oportunidade atu aprende sira nia valor rasik. Bibliografia Cinnati, Rui 1965, ‘Tipos de casas timorenses e un rito de consagragion’ in Actas de Congresso Internacional de Etnogrofia (Vol. IV), Lisboa: Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 155-180. Cristalis, Irena and Catherine Scott 2005, Independent Women: The story of women’s activism in East Timor, CIIR, London. Fox. James J. 2008, ‘Repaying the Debt to Maukiak: Reflections on Timor’s Cultural Traditions and the Obligations of Citizenship in an Independent East Timor’ in Mearns, David (ed), Democratic Governance in Timor Leste: Reconciling the Local and the National, CDU Press Darwin, Australia. Hicks, D. 1984, A maternal religion, the role of women in tetum myth and ritual, Special Report no. 22, Monograph series on Southeast Asia, DeKalb Center fo Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illionis University. McWilliam, Andrew 2005, ‘Houses of Resistance in East Timor: Structuring Sociality in the New Nation,’ Anthropological Forum, 15 (1): 27-44. Therik, Tom 2004, Wehali: The Female Land – Tradition of a Timorese Ritual Center, Pandanus Books, Canberra. Trindade, Jose ‘Josh’ 2008, ‘Reconciling Conflicting Paradigms: An East Timorese Vision of the Ideal State’ in Mearns, David (ed), Democratic Governance in Timor Leste: Reconciling the Local and the National, CDU Press Darwin, Australia. 29 3 Peskiza No Treinamentu JSMP Konaba Lei Jontra Violensia Domestika Francisca da Silva Antesedente Hanesan ita hotu hatene katak iha Jullu 2010 Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika hetan promulgasaun no tama iha vigor iha dia 7 de jullu 2010. Antes Lei ne’e tama iha vigor Judicial Program Monitoring System (JSMP) hola parte iha grupo servisu ba Esbosu Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika, durante faze konsultasaun hanesan aprosimasaun iha nivel Konsellu Minístru. Iha tinan 2010, depois lei ne’e hetan aprovasaun, JSMP hanoin katak iha importansia atu elabora no halo peskiza ne’ebé klean liu tan konabá lei ne’e atraves apoiu fundu ida husi AusAID. Projeitu ne’e ho objetivu prinsipál tolu: (1) atu fornese dezenvolvimentu profisionál hodi aumenta kapasidade profísionál saúde sira no advogadu privadu konabá Kódigu Penál no Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika foun; (2) atu hari’í kapasidade partisipantes sira atu kumpri sira nia responsabilidade tuir lei foun sira, no (3) atu mellora/hadia asesu ba justisa no tratamentu mediku ba vítima violénsia doméstika. Projeitu ne’e atinzi ona nia objetivu sira. Planu-servisu ida dezeñadu ho kombinasaun hamutuk ho Dra. Belton no Sr. Jesswyn Yogaratnam, akedêmikus sira husi Universidade Charles Darwin, Australia. Survey ne’e dezeña atu explora koñesimentu, fiar no pratika husi profísionál saúde no legal sira. Survey ne’e hala’o tiha ona iha fulan Jullu no Agostu 2010. Survey ne’e maneija ho purposive sampling liu husi reuniaun iha fatin barbarak ho profisionál saúde no advogadu sira iha distritu sira hanesan Dili, Baucau, Oe-cusse no Suai antes workshop ka treinamentu hahu. Rezultadu husi survey hirak ne’e mak JSMP no equipa peskiza sira uza atu ajuda dezeña sílabu/kuríkulu ne’ebé han-malu (ekilíbriu) ho nesesidade aprendizajen no kontestu profisionál iha Timor Leste. Treinamentu ida konabá tekniku aprendizajem ba ema adultu fornese ona ba treinador sira JSMP nian antes hala`o treinamentu primeriu, ne’ebé fo ba profisionál médiku no advogadu sira iha Dili iha Setembru 2010. Treinamentu ne’e nia objektivu mak atu prepara treinador sira husi JSMP nian ne’e involve metodolojia hanorin ba ema/alunus adultu sira. Treinamentu ne’e fornese husi Dra. Suzanne Belton husi Universidade Charles Darwin Australia. Señor Yogaratnam servisu ho equipa JSMP atu halo analiza kritiku ba konteudu Lei Kontra Violénsia Dométika foun (Lei Nu. 7./2010) no nia relasaun ho Kódigu Penál Timor-Leste nian. Razaun halao Survey Antes JSMP halao survey, ba dala uluk JSMP hala`o intervista ho organizasaun parseiru, hanesan autoridade husi Minísteriu Saúde, Ministeriu Solidariedade Sosial (MSS), nomos parte advogadu sira. Objetivu husi intervista ne’e hodi bele hatene katak programa ne’ebé mak JSMP atu halao ne’e tuir duni nesesidade. Iha loron 12 fulan Agostu tinan 2010 JSMP lansa programa refere. Lansamentu ne’e partisipa mos husi Minísteriu Saúde, infermeira no infermeiru sira husi Postu Saúde hat ne’ebé mak partensia ba Postu Saúde Distritu Dili, inklui mos reprezentante husi AusAid. Depois de lansamentu JSMP hala`o kedas survey iha Dili, no survey ida ne’e konsidera hanesan dala uluk ba survey hirak seluk ne’ebé mak JSMP fasilita iha Distritu Baucau, Suai, no Oe-cusse. Objetivu survey ida ne’e mak: Bele hatene kona ba nesesidade saida mak profesional Saúde no profesionál Legál sira presiza. Bele hatene diak konaba koñesementu ne’ebé mak sira iha. Sai hanesan mata dalan ka referensia ba JSMP hodi dezenvolve silabus. Atu implementa programa tuir duni nesesidade husi parte rua ne’e. JSMP hala`o survey ne’e ba ofisial saúde no advogadu sira iha distritu alvu sira, aprosima profisionál sira atu prienxe survey ka estudu ida ne’e. Ami konsegue atinze/to’o ba ami nia audensia alvu sira. 30 Survey ne’e involve enfermeria nain hat nulu-resin hat [31%], para legal nain 27 [19%], doutor ka estudante medisina nain 21 [14.8%], advogadu nain 21 [14.8%), nain 14 kategoria ofisiais sira seluk [10%], konsellor nain 3 [2.1%] no nain 4 nu’udar ofisiais administrasaun no finansas mak preinxe survey ne’e. Survey ne’e konsiste ho informasaun demografiku; atitude no opinioins, oinsa defini vítima, buka apoiu, treinamentu anterior, prezensa violénsia doméstika iha rede personal nian no servisu ba sobrevivente sira. Ema nain 142 hatan ba survey ne’e, mesmu, barak mak la hatan ba pergunta hot-hotu. Partisipantes foin-sae (jovem) ho idade tinan 20 no sira ne’ebé idade boot liu mak tinan 57. Maioria partisipante sira mak ho idade tinan 30 ba leten. Feto 71 (50%) no mane 65 (46%) mak kompleta survey no hot-hotu ema timor-oan, so ida deit mak estranjerru. Kuaze metade husi respondentes sira nain 57 [41%] hela iha sidade no restu 75 [54%] hela haleu iha suco sira. Metudú dezeña treinamentu Inisialmente ami hanoin katak ema 100 mak sei partisipa. Maibe ema 142 ne’ebé kompleta survey, ema 216 mak atende treinamentu iha Suai, Dili, Baucau no Oecusse, no ema 34 mak konkorda atu kontinua halo fali ho intervista (nota: ema balun dalaruma partisipa ona dala-barak). JSMP hamutuk no Universidade Charles Darwin dezenvolve survey ida no kurikulum treinamentu depois de halo konsultasaun inisial ho parseiru sira. Depois de avalia tiha, survey ne’e distribui ba distritu hat ne’ebé tribunal sira eziste mak Dili, Baucau, Suai no Oeccusse no husi tinan 2010-2011 ami realiza treinamentu dala hat kada loron ida ne’be hala`o ba ho grupu alvu hanesan iha distritu sira. Partisipantes sira ne’ebé konvida atu kompleta formulariu evaluasaun badak konabá antes no depois de trainamentu ne’ebé hala’o iha momentu treinamentu laran no atu partisipa iha intervista fulan balun tuir mai depois de treinamentu. Iha nivel hot-hotu amostrajem (sample) katak só aprosima deit profisionál saúde no advogado sira iha distritu alvu sira. Profisionál sira nia hanoin konabá violénsia domestika antes no depois de treinamentu Opiniaun ruma kona ba violensia doméstika Kuaze doutor, enfermeira, parteira, estudante medisina hot-hotu bele fornese ezemplu konabá tratamentu pasiente sira ne’ebé sofre husi violénsia doméstika. Sira konta tuir fali violénsia fiziku, seksual, psikolojiku sira ne’ebé halo hasoru feto no labarik sira. Dalaruma inan sira mak sai fali agresor ka perpetrador hasoru labarik sira. Sira relata konabá kazu violensia extreme sira hanesan ko’a ho katana, sunu ho intensaun, baku, tata, abortu tanbá violensia no agresaun seksual, Advogadu balun la pratika iha area violénsia doméstika no tanbá ne’e la halo buat ruma ba tipu kazu sira hanesan ne’e. Respondente sira, la konsege hanoin hetan hotu tipu hat hot-hotu ne’ebé temi iha treinamentu laran; fiziku, psikolojiku, seksual no ekonomiku. Respondente sira iha maneira lubuk ida atu explika abut ka kauzadores husi violénsia doméstika ne’ebé inklui natureza husi violénsia doméstika tanbá kolonilizasaun/prosesu dekolonilizasaun, pratika tradisional Timor nian no mudansa ne’ebé lalais iha sosiedade. Kultura violensia no selensiu – ema koalia konabá pasadu no kolonizasaun Timor-Leste ne’ebé husik hela violénsia no kuda/investe hela kultura sofrementu no silensiu. Ema dada-fali ligasaun entre pasadu no kostume sosial ohin loron kuandu sira refleta konabá asuntu violénsia doméstika. Wainhira ema koalia konabá violénsia doméstika sira konta fali forma violénsia hot-hotu ne’ebé akontese iha sira nia ambiente, no sira hasoru difikulidade atu haketak saida mak akontese iha liur (laos iha uma laran, ka familia) ho saida mak akontese iha uma laran no iha familia. Ema koalia konabá grupu/geng artemarsiais iha dalan sira, no preukupa katak situasaun sira ne’e bele lori amiasa ba sira nia moris lorloron nian. Materia Treinamentu Silábus ne’e inklui definisaun legal konabá violénsia doméstika, kumpriende violénsia doméstika no nia efetus, kuadru legal, obrigasaun profisionál sira, identifika vítima, dokumentasaun no servisu ba sobrevivente sira. Konteudu ne’e hato’o husi naradores painel espertu ne’ebé hot-hotu nu’udar ema Timor-oan. 31 Iha sesaun ida ne’e fo observasaun jerál konabá Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika ne’ebé promulga tiha ona iha 07/07/2010 hanesan Lei Nú 07/07/2010. Artigu 1 defini konabá objetivu sira mak atu: prevene violénsia doméstika,proteze vitima violénsia doméstika no asiste vitima violénsia doméstika sira. Violénsia doméstika defini hanesan krime publiku, ne’e katak; prosedimentu kriminal la depende ba keixa husi vitima ka kontinua ho konsentimentu atu prosesu. Nune’e mos lei artikula klaramente papel no responsabilidade governu nian, polisia, advogadu sira no médiku sira. Asuntus hirak ne’e sai kestaun aspirasionál nakloke tebes iha 2011 tanba governu seidauk defini politika orsamentu atu sosializa no implementa lei ida ne’e. Esperensia treinamentu ruma konaba violénsia doméstika Relasiona ho treinamentu anterior, ema 92 [65.7%] haktuir katak sira nunka hetan tipu treinamentu hanesan ne’e konabá violénsia doméstika no ema nain 42 [30%] dehan sira hetan ona balun antes ne’e. Médiku no estudante medisina (11) sira barak mak simu ona treinamentu durante sira nia estudu medisina nian. Maioria respondente sira fiar katak violénsia doméstika la’os asuntu ne’ebé baibain no sira konkorda afeita sosiedade tomak, laos deit ema mukit no la eskola sira. Sira iha opiniaun hanesan konabá kauza alkohol ba violénsia doméstika no ida ne’e tradisaun ba mane atu kontrola feto. Sira mos hanoin hanesan katak feto bele husik situasuan ne’e kuandu sira hakarak no katak feto mak provoka violénsia doméstika. Sira maioria sente katak kuandu ema ida iha ita nia familia baku ita boot ne’e nu’udar violénsia doméstika ne’ebé justifikadu. Partisipantes Parstispantes sira inklui enfermeiro/a hamutuk ema nain 79 no parteira hamutuk ema nain (37%), ema nain 60 nu’udar administrador saúde no servisu legal (28%), doutores no estudante medisina hamutuk 39 (18%), advogadu nain 29 (13%) no paralegal 9 (4%). Par$sipantes Treinamentu tuir Profisaun Advogadu 13% Paralegal 4% Enfermeira/parteira 37% Administrasaun 28% Doutor/estudante medisina 18% Profisionál legal barak seidauk bele estuda no aplika Kódigu Penál no Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika. Ami sente katak sira sei hetan benifisiu husi halo investigasaun/meneliti lejislasaun, partisipa iha kazu hipotítiku sira no liu husi partilla informasaun ho sira nia kolegas no ho profisionál sira seluk konabá oinsa atu mellora apoiu ba sobrevivente husi violénsia doméstika. Rezultadu ne’ebé atu atinze mak doutores, enfermeira no parteira sira sei kompriende diak liu implikasaun legal no sosial husi violénsia doméstika no advogadu sira sei kompriende diak liu implikasaun sosial-legal no mediku husi violénsia doméstika. 32 JSMP halo survey antes halo'o • ema nain 142 treinamentu ho profesional saude no advogadu JSMP fo treinamentu • ema nain 216 ba parEsipante hotu JSMP halo entrevista ho parisipante-‐sira • ema nain 34 depois treinamentu Partisipantes sira nia hanoin depois treinamentu Komentariu husi partisipantes Sim iha lei maibe so iha deit lian portugues, tenke produz iha tetun mos Hau hatene kona ba advogadu no doutor sira nia servisu Workshop inportante, maibé presisa tempu tan atu aprende Violénsia doméstika ne’e krime duni no atetu ne’e viola feto nia direitu Fen, labarik no ema ajuda iha familia ne’e, afeta liu ba husi violénsia doméstika Responsabilidade husi profísional sa’ude atu apoia ba psikolojika no fo tratamentu mediku se karik iha kanek.’ ‘Profesional legal iha responsabilidade atu hapara no resolve violénsia doméstika iha sistema formal. ‘Bainhira hau hare Violensia Domestika iha hau nia komunidade hau presisa halo relatoriu ba autoridade kompetente.’ ‘Intervista ba vitima tenke segredu.’ Dezafiu • Komunidade ein-jeral la aseita ho kazu violensa domestika hanesan krime, tanba kontrario ho prinsipiu ka pratika kultural. Kolaborasaun, koñesementu husi komunidade ba suntus ne’e sei minimu. Maske iha komunidade balun mak ladun iha interese diak ba kazu ida ne’e maibe parseiru servisu ba JSMP nian hatudu sira nia interese diak liu iha workshop refere, hanesan profísionál sira hot-hotu hatudu sira nia interese atu hatene diak violénsia doméstika no oinsa lei ne’e aplika ba sira. Survey, interasaun iha treinamentu ka worshop no la’o tuir fali ho intervista hatudu katak ideas husi nivel lokal nian konabá violénsia doméstika hahu forma-an maibe seidauk klaru no tasak no sempre la-integra ho setor justisa formal ka direitus umanus ne’ebé komprensivu. Klaru katak respondentes barak, liu-liu enfermeira no parteira sira sente katak sistema tradisional no familia mak diak liu atu trata problema ne’e. Kolokasaun médiku sira, estudante medisina, enfermeira, parteria, advogadu, paralegal no administrador sira hamutuk atu explora asuntu ne’e útil no hetan resposta diak 33 tebes. Iha kompriensaun ne’ebé aumenta konabá asuntu ne’e no lei, maibe, treinamentu ho tempu loron ida deit la to’o atu explora violénsia doméstika no implikasaun ba kada servisu iha pratika. Konkluzaun Projeitu ne’e atu fornese dezenvolvimentu profesionál iha distritu hat konabá Lei Kontra Violénsia Doméstika susesu tiha ona no JSMP manifesta katak JSMP bele mobiliza profesionál sira atu atende treinamentu edukasional ne’e. Ein-jeral, prof’isionál sira hot-hotu hatudu sira nia interese atu hatene diak ba violénsia doméstika no oinsa lei ne’e aplika ba sira. Survey, interasaun iha treinamentu ka workshop no lao tuir fali ho intervista hatudu katak ideas husi nivel lokal nian konabá violénsia doméstika hahu forma-an maibe seidauk klaru no tasak no sempre la-integra ho setor justisa formal ka direitus umanus ne’ebé komprensivu. Lei ne’e relativamente foun no seidauk ezaminadu no ami deskobre katak advogadu no doutor barak mak la sente fiar an atu artikula aspeitu hotu iha sira nia responsabilidade no servisu. Wainhira enfermeira no médikus barak mak la kumpriende ka iha kompriensaun minimu liu konabá direitus umanus jeral no mekanismu legal sira, presiza apoiu institusional barak atu ajuda sira ho sira nia servisu atu proteze feto no labarik. 34 4 Arkiolojia Konstrusaun Ba Nasaun: Importansia Hosi Matenek Arkiolojia Ba Indentidade Nasional Timor-Leste Nian1 Nuno Vasco Oliveira2 Introdusaun Timor Rai ida ne’be atrai tebes ba ema nia interese hodi halo investigasaun arkiolojika. Rai sorin balu ne’be halo parte ba Timor-Leste, halo nia servisu arkiolojiku ba dala uluk ba tinan 30 iha sékulu XX. Nune’e, investigasaun sientífika ba dala uluk ho karáter sistemátiku, foin hetan fatin iha tinan 60 ikus ba iha sékulu hanesan, liu-liu iha tempu okupasaun Indonézia nia rohan tinan 2000. Iha tempu uluk, Timor-Leste sai nu’udar fatin determinadu hodi halo estudu liu-liu ba investigador portugés sira iha periudu koloniál nian to’o tinan 1975. Timor Lorosa’e nebe uluk konesidu ho naran “Timor Português”, sai nu’udar kolónia hosi sékulu XVI nia klaran. Maibe apenas iha tinan 100 ikus nian iha rejime koloniál, liu-liu durante Estadu Foun (“Estado Novo”, iha lian portugés), Portugal haforsa tan sira nia administrasaun durante sira nia presensa no investe rekursu ho forma ne’be sistemátika ba nia kolonia ida ne’be dok tebes hosi Portugal. Ohin loron, halo tiha ona dokumentasaun katak, tinan 40.000 (rihun hat nulu) resin maka iha okupasaun umana iha rai ida ne, hirak ne’ebe reprezenta buat oi-oin ne’be signifikante hosi fatin ka situs arkiolojiku inklui sipu kulit, ema nia hela fatin iha rai luan, no hela fatin iha fatukkuak pre-istória, fatuk lolon (fatin lulik no divertimento) no fatuk kuak ho pinturas iha fatuklolon, kota tuan pre-koloniál sira nia hela fatin (fortaleza), nune’e mos ba buat tuan hirak iha periodu koloniál portugés, olandés no evidénsia balu hosi okupasaun japonés no Indonézia. Informasaun arkiolójika hirak ne’e fundamental tebes ba nasaun foun ida ne’e atu hatene liu tan nia historia rasik, ho importante tebes ba prosesu atu hamosu sentimentu ba identidade nasionál ba Timor oan tomak. Investigasaun arkiolojia sira nebe halo ba dala uluk iha Timor Alfred Bühler ne’be haknar-an iha Muzeu Etnografika Basileia, iha Suisa, nu’udar ema ba dala uluk ma dezenvolve servisu arkiolojia iha rai Timor entre fulan Junu no Jullu tinan 1935. Iha tinan ne’e nia halo eskavasaun 8 iha rai Timor laran tomak maibe iha parte Timor Lorosa’e nia so halo ida deit. Sarasin halo hela relatório kona ba eskavasaun sira ne’e wainhira Bühler kontinua servisu iha kampu maibe falta informasaun detalladu inklui mos informasaun kona ba rai dalas ka (“estratigrafia”, iha lian portugés). So fatin ida ne’be Bühler halo eskavasaun iha atuál teritóriu Timor-Leste nian mak fatu kuak nu’udar fatin helik-an iha Baguia ho sanan rai molek deit (la pinta no la ukir) mai hosi tempu Neolítiku (Sarasin 1936). Misaun Antropolojia Timor nian Iha tinan 50 liu ba, Portugal nu’udar nasaun isoladu ida ne’be rejime foun ukun no liman besi (“ditadura”, iha lian portugés), ne’be sientifikamente nunka a par ho buat sira ne’be muda an iha kontinente Europeu no Mundu seluk no ukun na’in sira buka atu justifika sira nia polítika iha ambiente ida ne’be besik tama ona Funu Mundial ba dala II (iha Timor konhesidu ho naran Funu Japonés), ne’be fo vantagem ba demokrasia no tau matan ba sira nian kolónia. Governu foun ida ne’e ladun fo interese ba antropolojia no arkilojia, no ida ne’e hamenus ona meius ruma ne’be devia ser uza hodi habot Portugal nia naran diak (Fabião 1996). 1 Tradusaun hosi textu orijinál iha lian portugés: Eugénio Sarmento. Secretaria de Estado da Cultura, República Democrática de Timor-Leste, Visiting Fellow at The Australian National University); email: [email protected] 2 35 Portugal mos ladun hatudu nia neutralidade (hola klaran) durante II Funu Mundial, Holanda no Austrália tun iha Timor ne’be forsa japonés tun antes tiha ona. Okupasaun ida ne’be habelar an iha Timor laran tomak hosi Fevereiru tinan 1942 to’o tinan 1945, ne’be rezulta destruisaun no ema mate barak tebes (Gunn 1999). Wainhira II Funu Mundial remata governu portugés rekupera hikas fali ninia kontrole polítiku no administrativu ba nian es-kolónia ida ne’e, no to’o ona tempu atu Portugal rekonstrui hikas fila-fali hanesan infraestrutura sira ne’be destroi hanesan parte ba orgulho ne’be lakon ona durante funu laran. Iha kontestu ida ne maka hahú hari misaun antigu sira iha Timor, liu-liu Misaun Antropolojia Timor nian (MAT), ne’be Profesór António de Almeida maka orienta. MAT nia objectivu prinsipál maka atu halo investigasaun antropolojia fízika no pre-istória Timor Lorosa’e nian. Ninia servisu iha kampu ba dala uluk hahú iha tinan 1953, no fatin prinsipál maka be lihun (“lagoa”, iha lian portugés) ida iha Laga (Almeida 1960, 128; Almeida e Zbyszewski 1967). Almeida fila hikas fali mai Timor iha tinan 1957, ne’be nia rekolla sasan foun balu iha We Lihun laran iha Laga no Lautém (Corrêa et al. 1956). Iha Baguia, sira halo mos foto balu ba instrumentu balu hosi fatuk aten (fatuk hodi halo ahi lakan) ne’be bain-bain komunidade sira usa no konsidera hanesan buat lulik (Almeida 1960, 128-129). Iha tinan 1962, Cinatti ne’be ofisialmente la halo parte ba ekipa hosi Almeida nian maibe nia servisu nanis ona iha Timor ba “Junta de Investigação do Ultramar (Stilwell 1995, 299), nia halo relatóriu ne’be iha relasaun ho fatin pinturas iha fatuk lolon iha parte Tutuala: fatu kuak sira iha Tutuala no Ili Kerekere no Lene Hara (Cinatti 1963). Cinatti sujere katak pinturas hosi Timor ne’e iha relasaun no rejiaun sira iha Sulawesi no prova ona ho data entre tinan 6500 to’o 2000 BC. Almeida fila hikas mai Timor ba dala ikus iha fulan Setembru tinan 1963, no hetan fatuk kuak seluk ida no pinturas no fatuk kuak ida iha rai Sunu Taraleu, lokaliza iha Tutuala (Almeida 1967). Almeida halo mos eskavasaun arkiolójika balu iha fatuk kuak Lene Hara, maibe la hetan sasan ruma kona ba kusi, maibe sasan hanesan ema mak halo bele konsidera hanesan hosi tempu pré-Neolítika no bele prova duni katak hosi tempu Mesolítika (Almeida e Zbyszewski 1967, 64). Ian Glover no nia matenek kona ba pré-istória Timor nian ba dala uluk Durante periudu ida ne’be Glover dezenvolve nia teze doutoramentu iha Universidade Nasionál Austrália nian, iha Canbera (1972), nia hala’o nia knar ne’e dala tolu iha fatin eskavasaun iha Timor hosi tinan 1966 no 1967, no presiza fulan 10 atu Glover hala’o nia servisu ne’e hodi hetan fatin no halo eskavasaun ba fatin arkiolójiku (Glover 1972, 1). Buat ne’be Glover halo hanesan servisu uniku ne’be nia relata ho detalla inklui pre-istória tan ne’e, oras ne’e daudaun ita iha dadus informativos balun konaba pre-istória Timor nian, nu’udar servisu hotu ne’be nia halo tutuir malu kona ba rai dalas iha fatin arkiolójiku sira ne’be nia rasik halo eskavasaun, identifikasaun no halo análize sistemátika hodi hetan tuir data radiométrikas nian (Glover 1969, 1971, 1972b, 1973, 1977, 1979, 1986). Kestaun prinsipál Glover nian balu relasiona ho nia servisu investigasaun ne’e maka, ida iha relasaun ho knua tuan iha kontinente ema Austrália sira nian hosi ema ne’be tuir sistema anatomia ne’be modernu ona no bele utiliza iha rai Timor iha prosesu ne’e nu’udar etapa ida hosi prosesu hada’et-an ba mai (“migração”, iha lian portugés); no parte ida seluk hanesan obstákulu tamba tasi ne’be luan tebes iha Ásia parte Tasi manen (“Sudeste Asiático Insular”, iha lian portugés) no prosesu la kaer metin lisan halo to’os/natar ne’be kostume hala’o iha Tasi Mane Ásia Kontinentál (Glover 1972, 1). Fatin prinsipál hat ne’be halo eskavasaun hamutuk tutuir malu tuir proposta Glover nian ba preistória Timor nian ne’be halo eskavasaun durante nian servisu ba dala ikus hosi fulan Junu no Setembru tinan 1967. Iha parte Tasi-Feto hosi rai tetuk Baucau, Glover halo eskavasaun ba fatuk kuak iha Bui Ceri Watu no Lie Siri. Nia halo mos peskiza iha fatuk kuak rua seluk ne’be lokaliza iha parte leten Baucau nian iha Venilale: Wai Bobo 1 no Wai Bobo 2. Ho exsepsaun ne’be hatama kusi no animal maus sira, iha tinan 3800 to 3600 cal BP, kultura ne’be existe iha fatin sira ne’e ladun sofre nia alterasaun iha tempu naruk. Glover refere liu ba sistema ekonomia ne’be populasaun sira pratika iha sira nia knua laran, nune’e fatin sira ne’e sira husik hela hanesan ema kasador na’in no sira buka atu pasa vida ho agrikultura no mahein animál sira, maibe ladun hetan evidénsia arkeolójika ba mudansa hirak ne’e iha fatin hirak ne’be Glover halo eskavasaun (Glover 1986, 206). Glover sujere katak agrikultura cerealífera (hanesan halo natar) talvez tama mai 36 Timor hamutuk ho kusi no animal maus sira, maibe laiha evidénsia ruma ne’be bele uza hanesan sasukat ba lia si’ik (“hipótese”, iha lian portugés) sira ne’e (Glover 1986, 202-212 e 229-230). Tempu okupasaun Indonézia iha Timor Fulan Setembru tinan 1975, wainhira Portugal sai hosi nia kolónia tuan, tropa indonézia mai invade no okupa rai Timor kuase tinan 25. Durante periodu ida ne’be dura too tinan 1999, parese ke nunka halo dezenvolvimentu ruma kona ba kualker servisu ne’be iha relasaun ho servisu arkelójiku ne’be sistemátiku, maibe hanesan referénsia ida so hetan deit rai pedasuk ida ka rate hosi sékulu XVI, hosi Liurai Feto Hera ida nebe kaben ho Liurai mane ida hosi reinu Goa Sulawesi ne’be hakoi iha Hera konesidu ho naran Makirate (Spillet 1990). Halo observasaun ba dala uluk iha fatin ka rate ne’e hosi ema matenek na’in australianu ida naran Peter Spillet no Eugénio Sarmento, responsável ba kultura iha Dili Oriental no antigo Muzeu Provínsia Timor nian, hamutuk ho Liurai João, desendente hosi Liurai Hera. Plaka ne’e hanesan buat uniku ida ne’be eziste iha rai Timor no hakerek ho lian “lontara” origial hosi Sulawesi, ho numeru tinan hosi lian árabe. Além de buat hirak hanesan iha leten, hetan mos kusi rahun balu hamutuk ho mate ruin iha aldeia Dair, besik Maubara, ne’be identifika hosi agente tékniku hosi antigo Muzeu Timor iha tinan 1990 (informasaun hosi Sr. Virgílio Simith, atuál Sekretáriu Estadu Kultura nian ne’be iha tempu ne’ba simu knar nu’udar resposável kultura iha Dili Osidentál no mos nu’udar funsiunáriu tékniku iha antigo Muzeu Provínsia Timor nian. Nune’e mos ita hatene katak dezde 1984 membru hosi Sentru Arkiolojia hosi Jakarta, Indonézia, hamutuk ho tekniku hosi Departamentu Edukasaun no Kultura iha Dili, ba halo observasaun no rekolla material etnográfiku no hala’o levantamentu ba aspetu kultura tradisionál balu (informasaun hosi Sr. Virgílio Simith). Nu’udar refere tiha ona iha leten, Indonézia nia okupasaun iha Timor hosi fulan Dezembru tinan 1975 to Setembru 1999. Durante tinan hirak ne’e, wainhira governu Indonésia ukun inpede netik iha parte lorosa’e hosi rai Timor, tan ne’e investigasaun internasionál no komunidade sientífika muda sira nia programa peskiza ba parte balu iha Indonésia, atu nune’e sira labele involve an iha Timor tamba kestaun polítika, maibe tuir lolós sira kontinua dezenvolve investigasaun iha rai ne’e. Ema kontinua konese Timor hanesan “Antigo Timor Português” (Glover 1977, 43; Metzner 1977, xxiii), ou simples liu ema konhese hanesan parte ida ba Indonézia. Hafoin tinan 1974 iha Portugal, projetu prinsipál ba investigasaun hanesan MAT no seluk iha Timor no ex-kolónia seluk sira husik hela tamba iha rekursu ou tamba iha duni. Durante periudu ida ne’e ema sira ne’be halo investigasaun iha Timor hetan oportunidade atu publika artigu sientífiku oan balu (ex. Lucas et al. 1992; Ramos e Rodrigues 1980). Hafoin konsulta popular iha tinan 1999, ambiente sientífiku iha Timor hahú muda an lalais iha tinan hirak tuir mai iha tempu tranzisaun iha ONU nia liman, projetu investigasaun barak maka hah’u hala’o. Projetu Arkeolójiku iha Timor-Leste Projetu arkiolójiku Timor-Leste nian (ETAP, East Timor Archaeological Project), nu’udar projetu ne’be hala’o hamutuk ho Universidade Nasionál Austrália no Universidade James Cook. Entre pontus interogasaun sientífiku hosi ETAP ne’e, konta mos ho data ba knua dala uluk iha Timor, no posível atu hare populasaun grupu etnolinguístiku rua prinsipál mak kahur malu ne’be eziste iha rejiaun ne’e hanesan Austronéziu no Papua (ou la’os Austronéziu) hosi karaterístika hosi “pakote” Austronéziu iha Timor, inklui mos kestaun ba sira nia hun ka orijen ba vida agrikultura iha rai ne’e, no mos istória kona ba komérsiu internasionál pre-koloniál durante tinan ikus mileniu ida ne nian (Veth et al. 2004). Iha tinan 2000 no 2002 membru ETAP sira halo servisu arkiolójiku dala hat iha kampu, no rezultadu maka sira hetan duni fatin arkiolójiku sira, inklui mos sipu kulit, kusi tuan, fatuk kuak ka helik fatin iha fatuk kuak, no iha mos buat antigu balu hanesan pinturas iha fatuk lolon (Spriggs et al. 2003). Eskavasaun arkiolójika ba dala uluk ne’be ETAP halo iha 2001, iha fatuk kuak Lene Hara iha Tutuala, ne’be bele hetan dadus liu hosi sistema radiokarbono maka hatene katak tinan 40.000 no 35.000 cal BP (O’Connor et al. 2002, 48; O’ Connor et al. 2002b; O’Connor e Veth 2005, 253). Iha tinan 2001 halo eskavasaun iha Macha Kuru 1 no 2. Halo eskavasaun ba dala uluk konsegue hetan asu ida nia ruin, ne’be hare tuir hosi dadus AMS (2967+50 uncal BP). Autor sira 37 hanoin katak fatin ida ne’e hetan okupasaun liu deit iha tinan 3000 ikus nian (Spriggs et al. 2003:56). Iha eskavasaun ida ne’e hetan mos fornu ida hosi fatuk hada no sai nu’udar evidénsia ba prezensa meda (Phalanger orientalis), hosi tinan 10.000 mai 8000 BP, autor sira hanoin katak bele halo mos kontaktu kulturál no troka teknolojia ba buat ne’be iha ho Papua Nova Guiné, nu’udar origem hosi meda iha periudu ne’ba (Spriggs et al. 200, 56; O’Connor 2006, 81-83). Fatuk kuak seluk ne’be halo eskavasaun iha tinan ida ne’e maka Telepunu, iha área Com iha parte rai Timor Lorosa’e nia rohan, autor sira interpreta nu’udar fatin iha rai okos ho material kulturál, ne’be ema utiliza liu deit (la dun hela metin) Bei ala sira ne’be okupa Telepunu to’o iha tinan Pleistoceno ikus nian tuir dadus hosi 13,695 ± 50 uncal BP. Projetu ida ba investigasaun arkiobotánika Entre tinan 2004-2008, autor rasik involve an (Oliveira 2006 e 2008) ba projetu investigasaun ida ne’be bele hare ho estudu ba prátika sira ne’be bele sustenta iha sub-distritu Baguia no Baucau durante preistória, uza restu ai-horis ne’be rekolle iha fatin eskavasaun arkeoljika. Projetu ida ne’e esensiál liu atu buka hatene: a) ai-horis saida deit maka komunidade pre-istória sira uza hanesan hun ba sira nia ai-han moris; b) se iha karik modifikasaun no estratéjia ruma hosi komunidade ba sustenta an mais ou menus iha tinan 3500 BP (iha tempu ne’be ema lori animal maus no sana rai ba dala uluk); e c) data ida ne’e mos refere ba ai-horis cerealifera balu mai Timor, hanesan hare. Alem de buat hotu ne’be hetan hamutuk iha Baguia no Baucau iha 2004 (Oliveira 2006), iha 2005 nia halo eskavasaun sistemátika iha fatuk kuak Bui Ceri Watu Mane, iha Baucau (Oliveira 2008). Sira mos halo análize ba materiál sira hosi fatin eskavasaun arkiolójika seluk iha Timor-Leste, ne’be uluk halo hosi O’Connor e Spriggs. Tuir rezultadu prinsipál sira, la iha tan ona buat antigu ruma kona ba sereal hanesan hare no identifika variasaun hosi tipu aifuan, talas, fore, iha tinan 10.000 ikus, konfirma observasaun etnobotánika ne’be realiza iha fatin barak iha rai ida ne, so iha deit espasu (iha rai tetuk kahur rai henek besik tasi, rai pedasuk ruma iha foho leten as ou iha kintal ka abat) hare domina ne’be hanesa sereal uniku ne’be ema Timor utiliza maibe buras liu maka batar, ne’be lori tama mai Timor hosi kontinente Amérika maibe ida ne’e akontese wainhira Timor halo kontatu ba dala uluk ho ema europeu sira, hosi ne’e hatama animál maus hahú iha tinan 3.500, ho mudansa prinsipál hanesan estratéjia hodi sustenta an iha Timor talves akontese iha periudu ida ne’e, ne’be hatama mos iha Timor buat oi-oin hanesan modo, ai-fuan, talas, batar no hare no produtu seluk ne’be iha valor ba komérsiu hanesan kafe. Projecto arkeologiku seluk iha Timor Leste. Iha tinan 2003, membru ETAP ida (O’Connor) kontinua dezenvolve investigasaun iha Timor-Leste iha fatin arkiolójiku oi-oin ne’be sira hare hodi halo identifikasaun no eskavasaun arkiolójiku. Entre eskavasaun hirak ne’e ida maka Jarimalai, fatuk kuak ida lokaliza iha parte Tasi Feto besik Lorosa’e ho data atuál entre 43,500 – 42,000 cal BP (O’Connor 2007). Data sira iha nível baze kuadradu A no B iha fatin ne’e konhesidu hanesan fatin antigu liu iha área Wallacea (O’Connor 2007, 523). Hafoin O’Connor ho nia ekipa rejista hamutuk fatin sira ne’be signifikadu ho pinturas iha fatuk lolon, ne’be barak liu lokaliza iha tasi feto hosi lorosa’e, besik Baucau no Baguia (O’Connor 2003; O’Connor no Oliveira 2007, Lape et al. 2007). O’Connor (2003) sujere katak pinturas iha fatuk lolon iha Timor-Leste mai hosi grupu hosi fatin oi-oin ho relasaun ba malu hosi parte loro monu hosi Tasi Pasífiku, ne’be Ballard hakerek katak buat sira ne’e pertense ba Tradisaun Austronézia sira nia Pinturas (Ballard 1992). Iha tempu ikus ona ne’be investigasaun seluk tutuir mai sira sujere katak buat balu hosi pinturas iha fatuk lolon iha Timor-Leste realidade bele antigu liu fali hanoin hirak ne’be koalia iha inisiu investigasaun sira ne’e (Aubert et al. 2007:995). Estudu sira kona ba pinturas iha fatuk lolon iha Timor-Leste kontinua dezenvolve no iha tempu ikus hetan ona fatu kuak ida iha Lene Hara ne’be petroglifos (eskultura iha fatuk lolon) konese iha nasaun ida ne’e, bele mos ho data tinan Pleistoceno no relasiona ho okupasaun pre-istória iha fatin ne’ba (O’ Connor et al. 2010). Peter Lape hosi Universidade Washington, dezenvolve servisu arkiolojia iha Timor-Leste entre tinan 2003 no 2007, nia identifika eskavasaun ne’be ema uluk hela iha rai luan. Hanoin hanesan ho Lape, parte barak liu hosi fatin sira ne’e koresponde ho knua antigu fortifikadu (ne’be hada ho fatuk) ne’be sira hari iha tinan 1000 ikus nian molok Timor-Leste halo kontaktu ho ema hosi orijen Europa, 38 hosi fatin balu sira kontinua hela no okupa durante malae portugés sira tama ona iha Timor to sékulu XX nian klaran (Lape 2006:293; Lape e Chin-yung 2008) Chin-yung, hanesan Lape nia estudante doutoramentu hosi Universidade Washington, dezenvolve prospeksaun (servisu arkiolojia hodi hetan fatin arkiolójiku sira) no halo eskavasaun arkiolójika iha rejiaun Manatuto, no nia identifika no kaer fatin arkiolójiku balu, inklui ema hela fatin iha fatin luan ho hetan evidénsia sanan rai, sipu kulit no ahi latun restu balu, ho datasaun tinan 3000 BP (Chin-yung 2008). Iha tinan 2006, ema arkiólogu sira hosi Institutu Investigasaun ba Dezenvolvimentu (IRD, Institut de Recherche pour le Developpement), hodi tau sira nian baze iha Jakarta, sira mai vizita fatin arkiolójiku balu iha Timor-Leste (Guillaud et al. 2006), no sira preve servisu arkiolojia foun balu iha nasaun ne’e hosi parte investigador hosi instituisaun refere (Forestier, komunikasaun pesoál). Helen Selimitis dezenvolve servisu balu kona ba matéria-prima iha silex iha rai tetuk Baucau nu’dar projetu ida hosi nia mestradu, no nia halo prosesu fila fali hodi halo analiza foun ba indústria lítika (instrumentu halo hosi fatuk) ne’be rekolle hosi Glover iha Bui Ceri Wato, iha tinan 1960. Halo sekuénsia foun ba data radiokarbonu nu’udar toman ida hosi projetu ne’e halo hakiduk fali ba okupasaun fatin iha faze ikus ba tinan Pleistoceno ho data 30.000 BP (Selimiotis 2006). Agora dadaun investigasaun arkiolójika sira iha Timor-Leste kontinua reflete ba diversidade ho perspektiva no interese. Entre buat hirak ne’e bele iha relasaun entre pinturas fatuk lolon no teknolojia Tasi nian (Lape et al. 2007), konstrusaun ne’be ho hada fatuk ka rai mean hanesan resposta humana ba mudansa klima nian (Lape & Chin-yung 2008) no mos projetu atu hetan fontes matéria-prima ba instrumento halo ho obsidiana iha pre-istória, tuir análise kímika kona ba instrumentu litíku sira (Ambrose et al. 2009; Reepmeyer et al. 2011). Iha tempu ikus, hakerek na’in mai hikas fali hodi dezenvolve halo eskavasaun arkiolójika iha knua Dair, besik Maubara, ne’ebe sira hetan kusi no sanan rai barak ne’be signifikativu ne’be bele iha posibilidade ba hakoi mate ruin iha kusi ka sanan rai laran hanesan toman ida hosi knua pre-istória. Projetu ne’e ho objetivu atu fo konhese pre-istória no potensia atu kria nukeu muzeu iha knua Dair, atu bele funsiona nu’udar elementu hodi hasa’e no dezenvolvimentu iha fatin ne’ba liu hosi turismu kulturál no atu kria hanoin ba identidade nasionál. Wainhira Indonézia okupa Timor-Leste, entre tinan 1975 to’o 1999, rezulta susar oi-oin iha ne’e atu dezenvolve servisu arkiolojia durante tinan 25. Desde tinan 2000, hahu halo planu foun atu halo peskiza no hetan rezultadu balu, no kestaun hanesan relasaun entre datasaun antigu hosi Pleistoceno iha Timor no Austrália (sira fo apoio ba modelu ida ne’be sujere katak rai Timor funsiona hanesan ponte ida hodi liu ba mai ba kolonizasaun umana ba Austrália); ne’e hanesan kronolojia be finu tebes ba introdusaun ba dala uluk ba animál maus ka di’an no sanan rai ka kusi ba dala uluk no kestaun ne’be relasiona ho produsaun ba aihan no subsiténsia ba pre-istória, ne’be oras ne’e bele hetan resposta ne’be satisfeitu liu. Investigasaun arkiolójika produs ka halo durante tinan ikus iha Timor-Leste signifikadu tebes no perspektiva katak tinan hirak mai ne’e sei hetan buat foun barak. Planu foun ba kurikulun ba tinan 7, 8 no 9 ba eskola sira sei integra barak ho informasaun hirak ne’e, ne’be bele konstitui pasu ida ba dala uluk atu divulga ka haburas konesimentu importante ida ne’e kona ba istória ne’be antigu liu iha nasaun ida ne’e. Iha tinan barak ne’be sei tuir mai maka esforsu hirak ne sei kompletu liu tan ho produsaun ba material sira foun kona ba lian ofisiál no nasionál ho forma ida ne’be katak siénsia no konesimentu arkiolójiku bele kontribui lolós ba dezenvolvimentu ba hanoin ne’be pertense ba identidade nasionál iha Timor-Leste. Hau Agradese Wai’in Ba: Sr. Pedro Lebre no Tio Martinho (Baguia); Naha Suso (Rai Nain), Manuel Belo, Constantino Belo, Augusto Belo no Marcelino Belo, iha Kaisido/Oso Ua-Uaisa (Baucau). Sekretaria Estadu Kultura Timor-Leste nian, liu-liu ba S.E. Sekretáriu Estadu nian Sr. Virgílio Simith. Sue O’Connor, Matthew Spriggs, Andrew Fairbairn no Peter Bellwood (Universidade Nasionál Austrália nian). Emma Bonthorne no Patrícia Baptista (voluntáriu sira iha fatin eskavasaun). Guilherme Cartaxo no Hugo Ferreira (GeRTIL). Lyn Craven no Frank Zich (Herbáriu Nasionál Austrália nian). Servisu ne’be halo iha fatin eskavasaun iha tinan 2004 no 2005 bele realiza liu hosi projetu doutoramentu, ne’be hetan apoiu osan hosi Fundasaun ba Siénsia no Teknolojia no hosi Departamentu Arkiolojia no Istória Naturál, ANU. 39 Notas Dadus balu ne’be iha testu ladun ekilibriu no refere deit ba BP ka UNCAL BP. Sempre iha posibilidade atu bele hetan dadus ne’be ekilibriu ho 95% hodi prova hodi utiliza ba versaun “on line” hosi Calib. 5.2 e CalPal 2007 (hare Oliveira 2008:7 ba explikasaun ida ne’be kompletu ho Oliveira 2008:297-303 ba dadus hamutuk iha radiokarbonu ne’be refere iha textu). Textu ida ne’e hanesan rezumu hosi versaun iha artigu tinan “75 ba Investigasaun Arkiolójika iha TimorLeste”, ne’be sei publika iha ata ba kolókiu Timor: Missões Científicas e Antropologia Colonial, ne’be realiza tiha ona iha Lisboa, iha IICT, iha loron 24 no 25 fulan Maiu 2011. Bibliografia Almeida A. 1960, Contribuição para o Estudo do Neolítico de Timor Português, Memórias da Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 16: 125-141. --- 1967, ‘A Contribution to the Study of Rock Paintings in Portuguese Timor’ in Solheim ,W. G. (ed), Archaeology at the Eleventh Pacific Science Congress. Tokyo, August-September 1966, University of Hawaii, Honolulu, pp. 69-76. Almeida A., G. Zbyszewski. 1967, ‘A contribution to the study of the Prehistory of Portuguese Timor - Lithic industries’ in Solheim II, W. G. (ed), Archaeology at the Eleventh Pacific Science Congress: Papers presented at the Pacific Science Congress, Tokyo, August-September, 1966, University of Hawaii, Honolulu, pp. 55-67. 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Spriggs 2004, ‘Changing research perspectives from Australia's doorstep: the Joint Australian-Indonesian Aru Islands Initiative and the Archaeology of East Timor Project’ in T. Murray (ed), Archaeology from Australia, Australian Scholarly Publishing, Melbourne, pp. 209-23. 41 5 Medisina Sosial iha Timor-Leste Tim Anderson [Tradusaun: Nuno Rodriguez] ‘Medisina sosial’, konseitu Amerika Latina, dezenvolve husi Salvador Allende iha tinan 1930 nia laran, liga ho modelu luan ida no ethos husi saúde públika ho prosesu ba transformasaun sosial. Iha tinan resente influensia tiha ona Timor-Leste, liu husi kooperasaun saúde Cubana ho númeru boot no programa formasaun. Artigu ne’e konsidera’medisina sosial’ ne’ebé Timor-Leste nia rasik sei dezenvolve too iha ne’ebé. Besik rihun ida doutór foun sei mosu iha sistema ida iha ne’ebé seidauk too tinan atus ida, no sira treina ho ethos servisu saúde públika ne’ebé hahu konfronta ho sistema ne’ebé domina husi uituan, profesaun ne’ebé estabelese ho ligasaun metin ho kultura elite no rede klínika privada. Xoke kultura ne’e, iha termu vizaun no ethos, kuaze hanesan ho buat ne’ebé haree iha nasaun barak seluk-hanesan Bolivia, Venezuela no Honduras-ho númeru boot programa formasaun saúde Cubana. Iha Timor-Leste, hanesan iha nasaun hirak ne’e, inveja no obstaklu ne’ebé iha, iha tempu, minimiza pontensia atu kolabora no koperasaun, sei hamosu inserteza balun. Maski nune’e tranzisaun husi tipu ‘medisina sosial’ Timor iha benefisiu diferente tolu: dahuluk, númeru boot husi programa formasaun foun; daruak, kultura simpatétiku ida; no datoluk, potensia lideransa no vontade polítika. Buat ne’ebé la klaru mak forma lolos husi medisina sosial Timor-Leste nian. Ida ne’e tenki halo ho modelu dezenvolvimentu no transformasaun sosial ne’ebé nasaun adopta, iha tinan hirak mai. Maski ideia hirak ne’e harii no absorve iha kultura domestika husi solidariedade komunidade, Kristianidade inklusivu no independensia. Artigu ne’e estuda ideia ‘medisina sosial’ husi nia advokasia Allende iha Chile iha tinan 1930 nia rohan, liu husi programa apoiu solidariedade Cuba ne’ebé forte tebes, ba elementu husi sinteza ne’ebé mosu iha Timor-Leste. Nia diskute pedagojia Cubana iha Timor-Leset no xoke kultura, molok muda ba adaptasaun Timor oan no inisiu medisina sosial ne’ebé endemiku. Ida ne’e nu’udar istória interpretive, hodi uza analiza pasadu, informasaun kontemporaneu konabá programa saúde Timor-Leste no Cuba no respostas husi ema Timor oan. Ne’e inklui intervista no observasaun direta ba pedagojia no prátika. Medisina Sosial: Chile, Cuba, Timor-Leste Foku iha medisina sosial mosu husi vizaun luan sistema ne’ebé falla, saúde públika. Iha dezenvolvimentu iha Europa no Estadus Unidus (Sidel 2006) maibe, ba objetivu husi istória ne’e, Hau sei hahu iha Amerika Latina, iha ne’ebé iha diferensia no tradisaun medisina sosial ne’ebé forte. Guzman (2009:114) nota “diferensia signifante” entre aprosimasaun medisina sosial husi Amerika Latina no komisaun WHO konabá ‘Social Determinants of Health’, barak liu kria husi epidemiolojia sosial Europeia. Buat hirak ne’e nu’udar haree luan husi saúde públika, medisina sosial Amerika Latina foka ba transformasaun sosial no emansipasaun husi estrútura sosial kapitalista ne’ebé desfunsiona (Guzman 2009, 114-118). Husi heransa Portugez, posteriormente luta anti kolonial no programa tulun Cubanu ne’ebé boot depois de independensia, Timor-Leste iha razaun atu haree esperiensia Amerika Latina. Ema ne’ebé koñesidu liu ho medisina sosial mak eis presidenti Chile Dr Salvador Allende, nu’udar joven ida, Allende hateten nia “hakarak fó sai trajedia husi kiak…moris iha fatin kiak no mai hodi hatene ba dahuluk konaba mukit, laiha uma, laiha tratamentu mediku no laiha edukasaun ba povu Chilenu” (iha Winn 2005, 133). Esperiensia ne’e suporta husi ideias doutor Alemaña Rudolf Virchow no Max Westerhofer, iha universidade Chile iha tinan 1920 nia laran, lidera husi Allende hodi deskreve ‘medisina’ boot liu fali projetu klinika deit. Ideia ‘medisina sosial’ promove tiha ona iha movimentu traballador Chile nian, hanesan ezemplu husi Luis Emilio Recabarren, lider husi sindikatu traballador masin. Maibe Allende, kandidatu ba doutor medíku no politiku, “rejeita atu diskute problema espesifiku saúde nian haketak husi 42 nivel polítika makro no kestaun ekonomia”. Nia dezeña tubercoloze nu’udar “moras sosial” tanba muda barak liu tiha ona hanesan mudansa sosiu-ekonómiku husi intervensaun medikamentu. Nia liga uma kiak ba moras infesozu no argumenta katak adiksaun no alcolismu nia abut iha mukit sosial (Waitzkin 2001). Bainhira sai ministru saúde iha Governu Frente Popular iha tinan 1939 mak Allende sai koñesidu hanesan lider Chile nian ba ‘medisina sosial’. Iha nia livru ‘Chile’s Medical-Social Reality’ nia esplika nia vizaun: “atu reklama rikusoin sosial no potensia ekonómiku nasaun, kontrola nia, diriji nia, fomenta nia iha servisu ba emar husi repúblika, lahó previleiju ka eskluzaun……atu husu fila fali kapasidade psikolojiku husi povu ne’ebé forte, rekupera imunidade hasoru epidémiku; buat hotu ne’ebé sei fo dalan ba kualidade ne’ebé diak liu iha produsaun nasionál iha tempu hanesan fornese ba dispozisaun ne’ebé diak liu no espíritu atu moris no apresia vida (Allende 1939). Iha tinan 1952, nu’udar senadór, Allende introduz lei ne’ebé kria Servisu Saúde Nasional Chile ne’ebé nu’udar “programa nasionál ba dahuluk iha Amerika ne’bé garante asesu universal ba servisu” (Waitzkin 2001). Allende hanesan Presidente involve iha demokrasia sosial ne’ebé radikal, maibe hakotu tiha husi golpe militar ne’ebé apoiu husi Estadus Unidus iha 1973 (haree Smirnow 1973). Konsellu saúde la konsege mobiliza massa barak, medisina setór públiku la sufisientemente hakbiit no estadu la konsege atu defende nia an rasik hasoru golpe militár (Waitzkin 1983, 245). Liutiha golpe, Chile hakiduk husi ideias medisina sosial no partisipasaun makas husi kompania seguru (asuransi) privadu. Maski nune’e nasaun kontinua mantein númeru programa sosial-hanesan uma, nutrisaun no asesu óspital ba inan no labarik—no haluan buat ne’e iha tinan 1990 nia laran, depois de ditadura (Bosworth, Dornbusch no Labán 1994;Burdick, Oxhorn, no Robert 2009). Programa sosial hirak ne’e ajuda Chile—maski iha desigualidade boot—atu hetan rezultadu saúde ne’ebé relativu diak iha Amerika Latina (OECD 2010). Maski nune’e Cuba no Costa Rica dezenvolve sistema saúde públiku ne’ebé forte liu no rezultadu saúde ne’ebé diak liu iha Amerika Latina. Sira hotu hetan influensia husi ideias medisina sosial Allende. Costa Rica kopia sistema Chile, bainhira harii instituisaun públiku ne’ebe boot, Caja Costariicense de Segurida Social (CCSS). Ida ne’e hahu nu’udar orgaun autonomu iha 1943, ne’ebé kesi iha konstituisaun 1949 no bele kobertura universal iha 1974 (Editec Editores 2005; CCSS 2005; Anderson 2007). Kriasaun CCSS nu’udar prosesu demokrátiku sosial ne’ebé naruk. Iha Cuba, iha sorin seluk, prosesu revolusionáriu transforma desigualidade ne’ebé as liu no sistema ne’ebé privatiza makas, defende husi ditadura militár. Termu medisina sosial fó ba iha skema kontributóriu dahuluk iha Cuba (Thorning 1945), medisina sosial Cubana bele kumprende ho diak liu husi ideias no prátika ‘Revolusaun’, liutiha 1959. Komitmentu ba saúde sai hanesan parte sentral husi revolusaun Cubanu ba transformasaun sosial, hanesan mós internasionalismu. Revolusaun Cubanu promove partisipasaun iha komunidade nia laran no organizasaun popular (komite aldeia, organizasaun feto no juventude), halao iha enkuadramentu kompania estadu. Partisipasaun ne’e sai esensial atu dezenvolve inisiativa iha alfabetizasaun, desportu, ijieni no forma seluk husi edukasaun públika (haree De Vos et al 2009, 30-31). Medisina sosial Cuba hahu ho solidariedade sosial iha uma, ne’ebé haluan ba relasaun internasional, barak liu ho nasaun Afrika no Amerika Latina. Doutór Argentina, Ernesto ‘Che’Guevara, Allende nia belun, haree tiha ona kiak no hamlaha mak hamosu moras. Nia haree kauza malnutrisaun no argumenta: Prinsipiu atu luta hasoru moras tenki bazeia ba kriasaun isin ne’ebé saúdavel….ita nia servisu agora mak orienta abilidade kreativu ba professional médiku hotu atu servi ba medisina sosial ….laos deit atu vizita no halao ema sosializadu deit ho povu….Maibe atu buka moras saida mak sira hetan, sira nia terus mak saida, saida mak sai hanesan sira nia mukit ne’ebé króniku husi tinan ba tinan no saida mak sai hanesan heransa husi sekulu ba sekulu husi represaun no submisaun (Guevara 1960). Atu haree programa solidariedade saúde Cuba ne’ebé kuaze kobre parte hotu-hotu Amerika Latina no nasaun Afrika barak iha futuru, Guevara husu: “Saida mak sei mosu se kamponeza atus rua ka tolu mosu, mai ita hateten katak iha májiku, husi universidade? [sira] tenki halai……atu ajuda sira nia maun alin” 43 (Guevara 1960). Programa internasional importante nasaun moris buras, nu’udar estensaun internasional husi sosialismu revolusionáriu, no husi medisina sosial. Saúde iha Revolusaun Cuba liu husi faze ne’ebé hanaruk. Ne’e bele deskreve tiha ona hanesan kriasaun husi sistema saúde nasionál integradu, husi tinan 1960 nia laran, konsolidasaun ba sistema públiku úniku iha tinan 1970 nia laran no introdusaun ba teknolojia mediku ne’ebé as, peskiza no servisu iha tinan 1980 nia laran (Delgado Garcia 1996). Ideia ne’ebé asosia iha saúde no saúde internasionalismu, mos dezenvolve liu husi periodu hirak ne’e. Programa internasional hahu iha tinan 1960 nia laran, maibe sai forte liu iha tinan 1970, bainhira kapasidade no rekursu umanu dezenvolve. Cuba haruka doutor sira ba Chile depois de dezaster naturais iha 1960, maski menus doutor iha Cuba iha tinan ne’eba. Misaun mediku ba dahuluk ba Algeria mos organiza ho lalais liu, iha 1963 José Ramón Machao Ventura lidera grupu doutor 50, dentista, enfermeira no tekniku ba nasaun ne’ebé foin independente (Gleijeses 1996, 164-165). Programa Aljeria marka ‘misaun’ apoiu saúde Cuba hahu, atu asiste harii kapasidade iha nasaun hirak ne’ebé foin ukun an. Solidariedade ho no prátika atu suporta luta libertasaun iha nasaun Afrika no nasaun ne’ebé foin ukun an mak diriji ‘misaun inisiu saúde, husi 1960 no 1970 nia laran. Iha tempu ne’eba, Cuba mós fornese apoiu militár, liu-liu iha Angola (Kirk no Erisman 2009, 6-7). Hanesan Gleijeses ho konvensidu argumenta, misaun asistensia saúde no militár inisiu nu’udar pasu autonomu husi Cubanu, no laos parte husi poder ne’ebé joga husi aliadu bloku Sovietiku; klaru katak Uniaun Sovietika preokupa ho inisiativa balun husi Cuba (Gleijeses 1996). Misaun mediku Cuba ne’ebé boot liu iha Amerika Latina husi tinan 1970 nia laran nunka involve tropaz militár. Cuba oferese duni apoiu militár ba Sandinista iha Nicaragua, maibe barak liu depois de sira hadau poder iha 1979 (Eckstein 3003, 1973). Asistensia mediku Cuba ba Nicaragua mantein depois de Sandinista eletoralmente halakon iha 1990 (Castro 1990). Lider Cuba, Fidel Castro, konstantamente refere ba buat ne’ebé lider independensia ba sekulu 19 Jose Marti, ne’ebé foka nosaun luan husi edukasaun, kultura no unidade nasional (Marti 2002) Ne’e sai klaru katak, atu kumprende ‘medisina sosial’ Cuba ita tenki kumprende kontekstu no nia papél iha estrátejia Cuba ba transformasaun sosial. Saida mak halao Revolusionáriu Cuba sai internasionalista liu? Feinsilver (1993, 17-26) sujere ambisaun sentral halo Cuba sai “poder mediku mundial”, hateten katak hakarak atu ajuda diriji transformasaun sosial liu husi ‘poder suave’. Maibe ‘poder suave’ to iha ne’ebé? Banku Mundial nota katak buat ne’ebé Cuba hetan iha sira nia rai laran iha parte saúde tanba “foku rohan laek husi lideransa politika iha saúde ba liu tinan 40 nia laran……universal no tratamentu sauúde hanesan”, konsentrasaun ba saúde rural no sistema públiku ne’ebé unifika mantein husi “funsionáriu ne’ebé iha motivasaun as”(Banku Mundial 2004, 157-158). Maibe ida ne’e la kobre ho diak ba projetu tomak. Kirk no Erisman (2009, 183) sujere katak todan boot fó ba “humanistarizmu ne’ebe jenuinu no komitmentu ideolójiku ba sira ne’ebé la dun iha sorte” ne’ebé mai husi ideolojia Revolusaun Cubanu. Sertamente Cuba haree internasionalismu nu’udar sentru ba nia ‘misaun’ ideolójia no moral. Hau sujere katak solidariedade internasionál nu’udar mós parte importante estratéjia hatutan moris; Cuba kontinua konstantamente moris iha ameasa poder militár boot iha mundu, presiza atu habelar rede ho belun sira. Lideransa Cuba realiza iha kedas inisiu iha parte ne’e katak poder boot sira sei la halakon sira no harii sosiedade diferente se sira rasik izoladu. Maski iha resesaun ekonómia boot iha tinan 1990 nia laran, depois de relasaun komersiu ho União Soviétika monu, Cuba mantein ho indikador saúde diak liu iha Amerika Latina no kontinua harii programa tulun saúde internasional ne’ebé forte tebtebes iha mundu. Hanesan hateten tiha ona katak programa saúde Cuba “lahó duvida atinji ema barak kompara fali ho servisu husi nasaun G-8 tomak, hanesan mós Organizasaun Saúde Mundial (WHO) no maksimu Premiadu Nobel da Paz Médicins Sans Frontieres (MSF)” (Kirk and Erisman 2009, 170). Ne’e forsa estraordináriu no uniku iha mundu. Kombinasaun humanitarismu, solidariedad internasionál no diriji ba transformasaun sosial iha Cuba medisina sosial bele haree iha anunsiu Fidel Castro iha 1999 ba ideolójiku ‘Funu Ideias’. Nosaun ne’e Fidel Castro dezenvolve durante kampaña atu hodi hakfilak labarik oan, Elian Gonzales, husi Estadus Unidus ba nia aman iha Cuba. Hakbiit fila fali solidariedade—laha ema ida sei “ husik sira nia destinu” no papél revolusaun no transformasaun husi edukasaun haforsa liu tan (Minrex 2010). Ida ne’e mós aplika ba internasionalismu Cubanu. Ba grupu mediku Cuba ne’ebé gradua Fidel Castro hateten: 44 ... impaktu umanus, impaktu iha solidariedade, influensia iha kampu saúde katak grupu ida husi doutór fó nis servisu gratuitu [iha Amerika Latina no Afrika iha] mak boot liu....Ami nia misaun mak boot liu fali duke hetan dolar balun. Ami nia misaun mak atu kria dutrina ida iha relasaun ho saúde umanu, atu demonstra ezemplu husi buat ne’ebé bele halao iha kampu (Castro 1999a). Ajuda harii sistema saúde públiku ne’ebé diak haree hanesan parte husi funu ideolójiku ho privatizasaun no konsumerismu neoliberal. Iha tinan hanesan, iha inagurasaun Eskola Medisina Amerika Latina, espansaun substansial husi programa formasaun internasionál, Fidel Castro fó sai nesesidade atu harii kapasidade iha estadu Amerika Sentral no Karibia ne’ebé foin hetan tufaun terivel. Nia fó enfaze moral no sistema imperativu husi misaun ne’, hodi aumenta: “iha Eskola Medisina Amerika Latina ami sei la hanorin materia politika, hanesan ami halo ba joven Cuba iha ami nia universidade.” Sei iha liberdade ba relijiaun, iha tempu hanesan aihan no aktividade sosial sei apropriadu ba kultura ida-idak. “Buat importante liu mak dedikasaun kompletu ba buat murak liu no humanu husi nia servisu: atu salva moris no prezerva saúde.” (Castro 1999b). Elementu moral no kultura-edukasional husi Jose Marti evidente tebes. Medisina sosial Cuba bele fahe lisaun importante balun. Ba parte ida—importante liu mak jenerosidade estraordinariu iha nia espíritu—Cuba iha esperiensia atu ‘halo lao’ ho rekursu limitadu. Husi sorin seluk, preparadu atu impresta no adapta ideias ba sirkuntansia ida-idak. Hanesan ezemplu, iha tinan 1980, iha influensia internasional nia okos, Cuba muda husi ‘saúde preventiva’ ba ‘promosaun saúde’. Iha edukasaun saúde, impresta husi pedagojia Estadus Unidus ho enfaze ba iha relasaun sirkular entre esperiensia, observasaun no reflesaun, konseitualizasaun no prátika (Ochoa Sato et al 2004). Sinteza Cubana iha medisina sosial foka ba solidariedade revolusionáriu no internasionalismu. Waitzkin (1983, 235) argumenta katak “konsolidasaun poder estadu, mobilizasaun massa no rezolusaun ba kontradisaun entre setór privadu no públiku sai hanesan elementu importante iha susesu Cuba iha medisina sosial. Sistema Cubanu uniku, iha baze tradisaun no, ho flesibilidade balun, impresta husi nasaun balun. Iha kontestu ne’e ami mai ba dezenvolvimentu medisina sosial iha Timor-Leste, nasaun nurak ne’ebé foin hetan nia independensia iha 2002. Atu kumprende saida mak elementu husi forma diferente medisina sosial ita presiza haree influensia husi pedagojia Cuba iha Timor-Leste. Pedagojia no xoke kultura Programa koperasaun saúde Cuba Timor-Leste mai ho formasaun ho eskala boot iha ne’ebé, la hatama hanorin politíka Cuba, lori ho valores medisina sosial Kubana. Barak husi ne’e lalais kedas hetan apresiasaun iha Timor-Leste, maibe iha mos xoke kultura, iha ne’ebé sai aparente hanesan doutor foun nasaun nian ne’ebé atu gradua. Iha sesaun ne’e Hau sei foka ba programa, identifika valores no aprosimasaun medisina sosial Cubana iha Timor-Leste, ne’ebé indika aspetu husi xoke kultura. Programa nee’ hahu iha 2003, depois de independensia, ho dúzia doutor Cubanu no bolsu de estudu fo ba estudante Timor oan sira. Maski nune’e, dezenvolve rapidamente sai hanesan programa kooperasaun boot liu iha Amerika Latina nia liur. Too 2006 iha tiha ona traballadór saúde Cubanu hamutuk 250 no oferese bolsu estudu mediku nia ba rihun ida (Anderson 2008). Kontijente boot husi doutor Cubanu servisu hamutuk (doutor estranjeiru sira) iha óspital nasionál no rejional, maibe maoiria haruka ba areas rurais, hahu nukleu doutór rural ba servisu saúde (Rigñak 2007). Cubanu rapidamente forma kustu husi doutór hirak ne’e. Osan husi tulun balun uza dahuluk ba kontribuisaun ba kustu husi doutór hirak ne’e, maibe hanesan iha 2006 Governu Cuba selu salariu hotu nia doutór sira (PMC 2006). Doutór Cuba iha nasaun ne’ebé sira servisu ba lao tuir diresaun husi Ministeriu Saúde, hanesan funsionáriu públiku. Sira servisu ba kontratu durante tinan 2, ferias fulan ida ba sira nia rai dala ida, iha sira nia kontratu nia klaran. Ideia mak doutor Cubanu gradualmente troka husi Timor oan ne’ebé graduadu. Laiha dúvida ba formasuan médiku Cubanu ho nia kualidade ne’ebé as. Sertifikadu médiku Cubanu rekoñese iha nasaun barak, inklui Estadu Unidus (ECFMG 2008). Klaru, maski iha tensaun politika entre Estadus Unidus no Cuba, graduantes Estadus Unidus husi eskola médiku Cuba rejistradu no prátika iha sira nia rain rasik (Edward 2008). Too 2010 liutiha ona 900 estudantes ne’ebé tuir formasaun médiku, liu 200 husi ne’e iha Fakuldade Medisina iha Timor-Leste, harii iha 2005 nia rohan (CMB 2008). Depois de 2006, 45 laiha tan estudantes ne’ebé haruka ba Cuba; estudante foun sira halo inskrisaun iha Fakuldade Medisina Timor-Leste ne’ebé foun. Formasaun ne’e dezenvolve iha sistema Cubanu, maibe kolobora ho Governu Timor-Leste. Dr. Rui Araújo, ministru Saúde husi 2002 ba 2007, hakerek katak formasaun médiku iha enfaze ba “responsabilidade ba sosiedade.....noin kritiku, flesibilidade no nakloke ba interkambiu matenek” (AraUjo 2009, 3). Fakuldade ne’e, ho funsionáriu Cubanu, harii iha Universidade Nasional nia laran, ho ligasaun ho Ministériu Saúde. Ne’e presiza rasional Timor oan nian. Araújo hateten formasaun doutór iha Timor-Leste foka ba saúde individual, familia no komunidae....{laos deit] moras individual” (Araújo 2009, 3). Iha ne’e ita haree artikulasaun inisial nosaun Timor oan ba medisina sosial. Iha 3 Setembru 2010, grupu dahuluk ho doutor 18 graduadu, selebrasaun importante iha Universidade Nasional. Sira halo tiha ona tinan ida internu iha Timor-Leste, depois de tinan 6 estudu iha Cuba. Sira nain 18 ne’e imediatamente hetan médiku baziku jeneral, no planu atu tau sira tinan rua halao ‘servisu sosial’ iha area rurais (ka sub-distrtiu) iha nasaun. Noin husi doutór foun ne’e konta mai ami buat ruma konabá aprosimasaun tratamentu saúde ne’ebé mosu iha nasaun, partikularmente estudantes médiku 900 ne’ebé sei tuir sira. Mai ita haree dahuluk ba aprosimasaun Cuba iha formasaun. Pasu atu hodi formasaun barak liu iha Timor-Leste sai hanesan parte mudansa jeral iha noin Cuba nian, hanesan Dr Yiliam Jimenez, ViseMinistru no Diretór programa koperasaun saúde Cuba hateten katak: Ami fila fali ba metódu tutorial, suplementa iha teknolojia informasaun no tulun hanorin balun, atu estudante husi familia ho rendimentu kiik bele eduka iha aulas no klinika iha sira nia komunidade rasik, iha ne’ebé sira nia servisu ema nesesita tebes (iha Reed 2008). Kriasaun formasaun medisina iha Timor-Leste, hanesan mós iha Cuba, la signifika mudansa simpele iha aulas iha Universidade Nasional (UNTIL) iha kapital, maski ne’e akontese (Rigñak 2008). Estudante hahu treinu ho doutór Cubanu, iha postu sira iha nasaun. Estudantes hirak ne’e rapidamente aprende Español no tuir doutór, traduz ba sira, haree sira prátika no involve an iha aulas saúde preventiva. Iha óspital distrital no sentru saúde boot sira komesta troka tempu aulas nia ho prezensa iha klínika. Timor-Leste nunka iha doutór ne’ebé hela iha nivel sub distritu (Medina 2006). Maski iha komitmentu boot iha Dili, prezensa daruak barak hanesan doutór laos iha kapital nia laran (CMB 2008) introduz padraun ba servisu saúde iha nasaun, inklui prátika vizita uma, iha nivel suku (Rigñak 2007). Eventualmente, habelar tratamentu saúde primáriu, inklui asistensia fó moris ne’ebé treinadu, hahu mosu iha indikadór nasionál. Tuir Demographic Health Survey 2009, mortalidade infantil tun husi 60 iha 2003 ba 44 iha 2009 (IRIN 2010). Aprosimasaun Cubana esplika husi dekanu Cubana ba Fakuldade iha 2010, Dr Emilia Botello, bainhira diskute ba internu tinan ikus husi doutór dahuluk husi nasaun ne’e: Estudantes treina iha sira nia tinan ikus iha modul haat, foka ba saúde labarik, familia, feto no adultu— iha kada ida husi ne’e sira foti kliniku, epidemiolojical no pontu sosial husi sira nia hanoin......atu iha foku integral husi individual, laos deit ba moras maibe mós fatores relevante husi vistu pontu sosial nian, saida mak bele halo atu muda asuntu ne’e (Botello 2010). Ida ne’e nu’udar forma luan no partisipativu liu husi medisina, ne’ebé hahu ho medisina klinika tradisional maibe dezenvolve tiha iha modelu transformatóriu: Sistema Cuba husi formasaun medisina hahu ho modelu tradisionál....dezenvolve ho fleksibilidade iha kurikulu, atu ba iha medisina ne’ebé preventivu liu duke kurativu....ida tenki inklui iha prosesu laos deit husi doutor, ka ekipa mediku, ka sistema saúde, maibe mós iha sosiedade—komunidade no sistema sosial sira seluk....medisina Cuba laos deit prátika iha metódu klinika—estudante sira treina atu bele prátika iha klinika, epidemiolojical no metódu sosial, atu involve no rekoñese, iha sosiedade, fatores saida mak afeta saúde (Botello 2010) Aprosimasaun ne’e refleta husi komentáriu husi doutór foun ida, Colombianus da Silva: 46 Iha Cuba sira hanorin ami atu servisu, maibe servisu ho domin—nu’udar doutór, doutór sientífiku maibe doutór ho fuan ida. Liu fali servisu atu kura moras, ami iha responsabilidade atu prevene, hanorin povu atu sira bele partisipa ativamentu iha prevensaun moras (Da Silva 2010). Hamutuk ho sira seluk, Colombianus prátika iha supervizaun doutór individual husi Cuba, iha areas rurais iha nia nasaun. Iha fulan balun depois sira too iha Augustu 2009 sira trata tiha ona moras infesiozu (malaria, malaria serebral, tuberculosis, dermatitis, parasitu, leprozia), fo partus ba bebe, atende emerjensia iha resepsaun óspital, suku kanek (inklui kanek cezariana), partisipa iha prosedur kiik, halo konsultasaun regular, vasina feto isin rua sira no bebe, dezenvolve materia edukasaun konabá medisina natural no tradisional, organiza grupu diskusaun saúde ne’ebé edukativu, inklui grupu diskusaun katuas sira, no koko atu asiste kazu malnutrisaun (Royuela Reyes 2009). Colombianus refleta hanoin Cubanu ba traballadór saúde nu’udar ajente sosial ativu ho hanoin luan konabá medisina: Hau nia vizaun laos atu tur iha ofisina, hein ema moras atu mai, maibe ami—hanesan sira hatudu tiha mai ami iha Cuba—sei ba uluk sira, haree oinsá sira nia moris, saida mak sira han, sira fase ka lae?...ami tenki halao ne’e hamutuk, ho ema hotu-hotu, ho setóres hotu....Ami doutór sira tenki iha vizaun luan, atu ami bele haree ema ida ho tomak (Da Silva 2010). Vizaun luan ne’e afirma husi eis ministu saúde Araújo, ne’ebe kontinua iha papél ativu ba dezenvolvimentu doutór foun iha nia nasaun. Nia hateten Timor-Leste sei haree: “rotesaun ba saúde hanesan estrátejia esensial atu hasae kualidade moris; humanizasaun husi servisu saúde, karateriza husi servisu ho afesaun boot no komitmentu”. Nivel partisipasaun sei haree ema ho tau matan “involve nia tratamentu pesoal tanba nia iha informasaun naton no edukadu”. Matenek sientífiku no popular kombina “atu mantein orgaun dinámiku ba matenek, ne’ebé kontinua ba koletivu nia diak no reinforsa saúde no dezenvolvimentu sosial; provizaun ba servisu tratamentu saúde ne’ebé komprensivu, ne’ebé hodi feto no mane hanesan ema indivisivel iha kontestu sosial ne’ebé determinadu no muda” (Araújo 2009, 3-4) Maski nune’e, iha forma rezistensia oin rua ba aprosimasaun foun ne’e. Dahuluk mak forma ida husi rezistensia kultural, husi sosiedade ne’ebé simplesmente la iha kontaktu barak ho doutór ka óspital ka, se sira iha kontaktu hanesan ne’e, sira nia esperiensia la diak. Sistema saúde iha Timor bazeia liu ba enfermaria, ho servisu limitadu. Feto isin rua iha area rurál la toman atu ba sentru saúde atu hahoris, maibe doutór Cuba gradualmente enkoraja sira atu halo ne’e (Martin Diaz 2001). Iha kapital deit, feto balun ne’ebé ba tiha ona klínika ba checkup ba sira nia isin rua, sei hahoris iha uma, dalaruma rezulta mate ba sira nia oan (Llero 2010). No inan sira la dun hodi sira nia oan moras ba óspital distritu, tanba sira asosia óspital ho mate: haree hanesan óspital hansan fatin iha ne’ebé ema ba atu mate (Calderón Reynoso 2010). Iha mitu no buat tabu konabá tratamentu médiku, maibe pontu ikus ne’e tenki iha impaktu makas. Se óspital ida asosia ho fatin moras, no konsidera hanesan ‘liña final’, ne’e kompletamentu lójiku katak inan sira sei sinti tauk atu hodi sira nia oan ba fatin sira hanesan ne’e. Forma rezistensia daruak mai husi ema hirak ne’ebé estabelesidu ne’ebé halao ho subar no siume, kultura elite doutór sira, no husi seksaun Igreza Katoliku, ne’ebé iha tempu naruk sai hanesan patraun ba elite edukadu. Elementus iha Igreza, hamutuk ho embasada Estadus Unidus iha Dili, kontra programa formasaun Cubana desde hahu. Cubanus, husi sira nia parte, koko tiha ona akomoda tauk ne’ebé jeneraliza konabá ‘indoktrinasaun komunista’, hodi fasilita selebrasaun regular misa no vizita figura igreza (Betancourt 2007), no iha asesu nakloke ba kolega sira. Dr Araújo, hamutuk ho sira seluk, koko atu prevene programa formasaun saúde boot atu politiza, buka apoiu husi setores hotu-hotu, inklui papél husi Igreza. Seremonia graduasaun iha 2010, istória ne’e la lao lahó marka. Iha preparasaun atu diskursu hodi reprezenta doutór foun, Dr Ercia Da Conceição hateten: Ami hatene katak durante ami nia estudu iha Cuba durante governasaun anterior ami simu kritikas barak husi instituisaun barak, inklui Igreza Katolika....(maski nune’e) ami dedika ami nia an hanesan Timor oan ne’ebé buka esperiensia no matenek iha Cuba, maibe ami fila no moris hanesan ema Timor oan (Da Conceição 2010). 47 Maski ho tensaun ne’e, grupu relijiozu balun iha setor saúde, hanesan Klinika Pas iha Becora, lidera husi eis madre Katolika Maria Dias, fornese suporta makas ba programa Cuba. Klaru, bainhira internu Timor oan ida sujere, durante iha nia ezame final iha 2010, katak obstaklu ba pre-natal ba feto sira nia saúde no planu familiar bele mós Igreza, Dekanu Medisina husi Cuba ho lalais fo hanoin hikas fali katak planu familia balun ne’ebé diak liu iha nasaun halao iha fatin instituisaun relijiozu, hanesan iha ne’ebé ezame halao –Klinika Pas. Relijiaun rasik laos obstaklu ba saúde preventiva, nia fó hanoin internu, no sira tenki servisu iha kultura no instituisaun nasaun nia laran. Xavi xoke kultura seluk, ho kiik maibe influensa ba profesaun mediku, hatudu an iha dalan oin-oin. Realidade hatudu katak laiha koperasaun balun ho internu foun, bainhira too iha Timor-Leste husi Cuba. Iha óspital distritu balun laiha komunikasaun entre internu no mentor Cubanu, iha fatin ida no doutór Timor oan (Dias 2010). Iha mós doutór Timor oan ne’ebé reziste hasoru doutór Cubanu ne’ebé hodi estudante ba óspital. Maski nune’e prátika Cubanu atu trata klinika saúde no óspital hanesan klinika hanorin ema komesa simu (Aparicio Alvarez 2010). Ministru Saúde Dr Nelson Martíns la dun rekoñese papél Cubanu iha nia nasaun, maski sira domina prátika no formasaun. Iha nia vizita rua ba universidade iha Australia iha 2009-2010, Dr Martíns la hateten buat ida konabá doutór Cuba ka estudante medisina, maski bainhira diskute konabá sistema saúde primária, iha ne’ebé depende makas ba sira. 1 Atitude ne’e diriji ba inserteza iha tinan 2010 nia klaran ba rejistrasaun no alokasaun doutór foun sira. Maski nune’e sira hotu rejistra hanesan doutór foun iha Setembru no sira nia alokasaun iha area rural separadu 18 ne’ebé halao iha Novembru 2010 (Araújo 2010). Bainhira konflitu kultural no individual asosiadu ho tensaun hirak ne’e, Hau sujere abut husi ne’e bele haree husi modelu medisina ne’ebé diferente husi grupu ne’ebé sira reprezenta: ida servisu komunitária, aprosimasaun sistema públiku no ida seluk praktikante privadu-sistema selu nian. Tensaun ne’e similante tebes ho buat ne’ebé haree iha programa Cuba no privadu, profisaun saúde lokal iha nasaun balun, hanesan Honduras, Afrika du Sul, Venezuela no Bolivia (MEDICC 2008). Diferensia ne’ebé importante iha Timor mak profisaun medisina estabelesidu ne’e kiik tebes no traballadór saúde ne’ebé sei mai sei boot tebes. Ida husi doutór founl, Ildefonso Da Costa, fó sai diferensia hirak ne’e, ho hanoin husi grupu foun husi doutór atu halo mudansa balun: Doutór Timor oan lakohi atu servisu iha sub-distritu [hanesan Cubanu sira], sira hotu ba klinika privadu....maibe ami la hanoin konabá osan, maibe oinsá ami bele dezenvolve nasaun ne’e......[pasiente] hirak ne’e ne’ebé ba klinika privadu iha osan, no sira ne’ebé laiha osan tenki ba sistema públiku.....tenki iha balansu entre klínika privada no sistema saúde públika....ami nain 18, ami sei ba halao projetu ida.....ne’ebé sosial, ne’ebé umanu ba nasaun ida ne’e (Da Costa Nunes 2010). Projetu saida mak ne’e, balansu foun saida ne’ebé sei mosu entre medisina sosial Timor-Leste no sistema klinika privada, sei hela atu iha haree. Sinteza Timorense Ita bele haree katak sistema saúde Timor-Leste iha tempu badak sei adopta forma medisina sosial, maibe seidauk klaru lolos tipu saida mak atu foti. Maski nune’e Hau sujere ne’e sei iha figura endemiku, influensia husi—maibe laos kopia—medisina sosial revolusináriu Cubanu, no diferente husi modelu Allende, bazeia ba demokrasia sosial ne’ebé radikal. Depois aprezenta razaun balun ba mudansa, Hau sei konsidera elementus balun husi modelu foun. Númeru konta parte husi istória. Too Setembru 2010, Timor-Leste iha doutór liu 75; sira ne’ebé Cubanu forma sei liu 900. Cubanu sira iha komitmentu boot atu atinji promesa Fidel Castro iha tinan 2005 atu iha 1000, dezafiu boot husi tinan resente mak ladun iha investimentu iha Fakuldade. Iha deit estudantes 30 ne’ebé rejista iha tinan 2010. Ethos ne’ebé la hanesan husi formasaun sei halao diferensia, espesialmente barak husi profesional joven sei ‘iha mobilidade ba leten’ iha instituisaun iha sira nia nasaun rasik. 1 Observasaun makhakerek, bazeia ba prezentasaun Dr Martíns iha Universidade NSW iha 7 Augustu 2008 , no iha Universidade Sydney iha 17 Fevereiru 2010. 48 Liu fali ne’e, ema simu ho forte ba elementu esensial husi aprosimasaun Cubanu: responsabilidade sosial no solidariedade, asesu hanesan no aprosimasaun umanu ba tratamentu saúde. Iha lian seluk, iha simpatia kultura ho elementu importante husi aprosimasaun Cubanu, maski diferensia kultura. Tratamentu rural husi doutór Cubanu , inklui vizita ba uma, ema simu ho diak tebes. Tratamentu ne’e sai estensivu tebes. Too 2008 doutór Cuba halao tiha ona konsultasaun miliaun 2.7, iha populasaun ho miliaun ida (CMB). Simpatia kultura mós ajuda atu esplika nivel susesu ne’ebé as ba estudante Timor oan. Iha 2006 Ofisina Primeiru Ministru Timor-Leste iha 2006 katak “estudante Timor oan hamutuk 498 iha Cuba konsidera ida ne’ebé diak liu husi estudante estranjeiru rihun ba rihun ne’ebé estuda medisina iha Cuba en termus rezultadu no disiplina” (PMC 2006). Tinan tuir mai, iha Cuba, Hau hetan informasaun hanesan. Iha tiha ona promosaun 100% husi grupu forte 300 husi estudante medisina ba tinan datoluk (Betancourt 2007). Duzía estudantes balun husi nasaun Amerika Latina ida-nasaun riku liu Timor-Leste—haruka fila tiha ona ba nia uma, tanba indisiplina, dalabarak lanu no la estuda, estudante Timor oan foti benefisiu ba oportunidade ne’ebé fo ba sira. Sira ema konsidera servisu makas no ajuda malu makas (solidariu tebes) (Betencourt 2007); karik tanba konsiensia makas ba komitmentu ne’ebé sira halo tiha ona atu fila ba sira uma ho ajuda komunidade. Hau sujere nasaun sei adopta tipu medisina sosial ida tanba eskala programa formasaun, nia susesu ne’ebé hetan, hatudu simpatia kultural no ezistensia—maski iha tensaun entre ministru no programa iha 2010—vontade politika balun no potensia lideransa. Seremonia graduasaun iha Setembru 2010, ne’ebé atrai lideransa politika tomak iha nasaun, sai sasin ba ne’e. Hanesan dimensaun husi modelu medisina sosial Timor sei inklui solidariedade komunidade, ethos Kristianu ne’ebé inklusivu (karik inklui elementu teolojia ba libertasaun) no independente no espíritu auto sufisiensia. Barak husi ne’e estabelese diak iha kultura no istória Timor, liu husi luta susesivu anti kolonial, inklui luta ba ezistensia ida-idak husi komunidade tomak, no nasaun Timor. Evidensia husi ne’e bele haree iha deklarasun resente husi protagonista husi sistema foun. Hakerek konaba sertifikasaun medisina Timor-Leste, Dr Araujo koalia konabá nesesidade ba pratisionariu foun atu iha “kapasidade komprensivu.....promosaun, preventivu,rehabilitativu, iha ne’ebé sei kombina: “ho foku sosial ne’ebé profundu, kesi iha etiku no valores humanistiku, solidariedade no sidadaun ne’ebé diak, bolu atu transforma situasaun saúde ne’ebé lao hanesan ho espetasaun sosiedade (Araújo 2009, 2). Ideias solidariedade no independensia ne’ebé foka husi Dr Ercia da Conceição, iha nia diskursu importante iha serimonia graduasaun iha Setembru 2010, hodi reprezenta doutór 18 foun husi nasaun: Povu barak seidauk hatene le no hakere......atu ses husi dalan ne’e rekere harii kualidade edukasaun ne’ebé as, tanba se ema Timor oan hotu intelijente laiha ema ne’ebé manipula sira, laiha ema ne’ebé halakon ami no nasaun ne’e sei sai forte no sei la monu ba ema seluk nia liman (Da Conceição 2010) Rona-nain Timor oan sei hatene saida mak nia hakarak hateten ho fraze ‘la monu ba ema seluk nia liman’. Dr Ercia mós enfaze servisu komunidade no responsabilidae Kristianu: Ami la buka riku ba ami nia an maibe atu servi povu ho dedikasaun no espíritu humanismu ne’ebé la haree rasa, lokalidade, relijiaun, jéneru ka partidu poltika, maibe servi povu tomak tuir Maromak nia hanorin.....no dala ida tan ami hanesan doutór deklara katak ami prontu atu simu ordem no servisu iha parte ne’ebé deit iha nasaun ne’e (Da Conceição 2010). Hanesan mós, iha intervista molok graduasaun, Dr Julia da Silva Morais kahur nia antesendente Kristaun no huamismu Cubanu: “Se Maromak hakarak, Hau sei gradua iha Setembru, Hau promote Hau sei servi hau nia povu, ho afesaun boot. Hau sei servi, hanesan ema Cubanu hateten, hanesan ema umanu ida.” (Da Silva Morais 2010) Inserteza katak atu hasoru hodi dezenvolve medisina sosial ne’e sei inklui estensaun iha ne’ebé governu futuru sei mantein investimentu públiku ne’ebé forte iha setór saúde, evolui ‘balansu’ entre sistema klinika privada no sistema saúde públika, iha estensaun iha ne’ebé ethos medisina sosial influensia dezenvolvimentu demokrasia sosial iha nasaun. Buat hirak ne’e, ba hau nu’udar kestaun ne’ebé seidauk rezolve. 49 Konkluzaun Artigu nee’ atu haree ideia ‘medisina sosial’ husi Chile ba Cuba ba Timor-Leste, liu husi programa koperasaun ne’ebé forte. Hau simu ideia Guzman (2009) katak medisina sosial Amerika Latina ne’e konseitu luan no dinámiku ida liu fali epidemiolojia Europeiu ka aprosimasaun ‘determinante sosial’, maibe Hau aserta katak iha tipu diferensia husi medisina sosial, kondisiona husi kultura no istória ne’ebé diferente. Medisina sosial Chile nu’udar aspétu sentral husi demokrasia sosial radikal iha nasaun, iha ne’ebé halao bainhira projetu politiku hatun liu husi golpe militár. Cuba no medisina sosial konsiona husi nasaun nia solidariedade revolusaun no internasionalismu, deskreve husi ideias Jose Marti ba kultura moral sekular ne’ebé unidu no forte. Modelu solidariedade Cuba moris hamutuk ho nesesidade nasaun atu buka aliadu hodi hasoru viziñu ho kbiit boot no hostil. Pedagojia Cuba sai importante liu iha dezenvolvimentu sistema saúde Timor-Leste post independesia; maibe to iha ne’ebé nia sei influensia kriasaun forma medisina sosial Timor-Leste ne’ebé endemíku? Hau sujere influensia Cuba importante tebes, maibe fatór orijinal mós importante, no medisina sosial iha Timor-Leste sei nesesáriu nu’udar sinteza Timor oan nian. Dezenvolvimentu ruma iha nasaun kiik sei hasoru sistema global ne’ebé tenki hasoru komodifikasaun servisu no sistema saúde. Nasaun Nordiku sira mantein ho kobertura universal no sistema saúde públika (Lundberg, Yngwe, Stjärne, Björk no Frtzell 2008), OECD ejiji dezenvolve sistema saúde bazeia ba ‘inovasaun’ (prémiu finanseiru ba produtu saúde foun no servisu) no kompetisaun (investór privadu aumenta ba ‘opsaun konsumedor’), no promove sistema tratamentu saúde ‘hanesan hun ba kresimentu ekonómiku’ (haluan ekonómia formal ba setór saúde) (OECD 2003). Medisina sosial semu hodi hasoru korente poderozu ne’e. Maski iha opozisaun hirak ne’e, Timor-Leste atu adopta tipu medisina sosial tanba formasaun eskala boot husi Cuba, simpatia kultura no-maksi iha xoke kuluta-potensia vontade polítika no lideransa. Elementu husi sinteza Timor oan nian mak solidariedade komunidade, ethos inklusivu Kristianu no espíritu independente. Iha apoiu populár ne’ebé forte ba sistema saúde ida ne’ebé ho “humanismu, solidariedade no sidadaun ne’ebé diak” (Araújo 2009). Saida mak sei la klaru mak too iha ne’ebé estadu sustenta investimentu saúde públiku, too iha ne’ebé sistema públiku sei troka sistema klínika privadu, no too iha ne’ebé medisina sosial Timor oan nia sei influensia modelu dezenvolvimentu no transformasaun sosial. Maski nune’e, nasaun kiik ne’e prontu atu foti pasu korajozu no independente. Bibliografia Allende, Salvador 1939, La Realidad Medico-Social Chilena, Ministerio de Salubridad, Previsión y Asistencia Social, Santiago de Chile. Anderson, Tim 2007, ‘Health, income and public institutions: explaining Cuba and Costa Rica’, New School Economic Review, 2(1): 22-37. --- 2008, ‘Solidarity Aid: the Cuba - Timor Leste Health Program’, International Journal of Cuban Studies, 2 (December), http://www.cubastudiesjournal.org/issue-2/international-relations/solidarity-aid-the-cuba-timorleste-health-programme.cfm, viewed 1 May 2012. Aparacio Alvarez, Francisco 2010, Intervista ho makhakerekr, Dili, April 1 [Dr Francisco Aparacio Alvarez servisu iha óspital nasional entre 2008 and 2010]. Araujo, Rui 2007, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, Setembru 1 [Dr Rui Araujo uluk nu’udar Ministru Saúde TimorLeste, 2002-2007]. --- 2008, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, July 16. --- 2009, ‘A Snapshot of the Medical School, Faculty of Health Sciences, National University of Timor Lorosa’e, Democratic Republic of Timor Leste’, Paper presented at the Expert Meeting on Finalization of Regional Guidelines on Institutional Quality Assurance Mechanisms for Undergraduate Medical Education, WHO/SEARO, New Delhi, 8-9 October. Araujo, Rui 2010, komunikasaun pesoal ho makhekerek, 27 Outobru. Betancourt, Alberto Jose 2007, Intervista ho makhakerek, Sandino, Cuba, Novembru 12 [iha tempu intervista ne’e, Dr Alberto Betancourt nu’udar Dekanu husi ‘Capitan San Luis’ Medical College iha Sandino, Pinar del Rio, Cuba, uma ba estudante Timor oan 300]. 50 Bosworth, Barry P., Rudiger Dornbusch, Raúl Labán 1994, The Chilean Economy: Policy Lessons and Challenges, Brookings Institution Press, Washington. Botello, Emilia 2010, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, 16 Jullu [Dr Emilia Botello nu’udar Dekanu Fakuldade Medisina iha Universidade Nasional Timor Lorosae, UNTIL]. Burdick, John, Philip Oxhorn, Kenneth M. Roberts 2009, Beyond Neoliberalism in Latin America?: societies and politics at the crossroads, Palgrave Macmillan, New York. Calderón Reynoso, Irene 2010, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, Abril 1 [Dr Irene Calderón Reynoso, Pediatra Cubana, servisu iha distritu Maliana, iha Timor-Leste entre 2008-2010). Castro, Fidel 1990, ‘Discurso pronunciado por Fidel Castro Ruz, Presidente de la República de Cuba, en la tercera graduación del contingente del Instituto de Ciencias Medicas de La Habana, en el Teatro Carlos Marx’, Ciudad de La Habana, el 27 de agosto de 1990, ‘Ano 32 de la Revolución’, La Habana, http://www.cuba.cu/gobierno/discursos/1990/esp/f270890e.html, viewed 1 May 2012. --- 1999a, ‘Palabras del Presidente del Consejo de Estado de la República de Cuba, Fidel Castro Ruz, a los estudiantes graduados del Instituto Superior de Ciencias Medicas de La Habana, en el Teatro ‘Carlos Marx’, el dia 9 de agosto de 1999’, La Habana, http://www.cuba.cu/gobierno/discursos/1999/esp/f090899e.html, viewed 1 May 2012. --- 1999b, ‘Discurso del Presidente del Consejo de Estado de la República de Cuba, Fidel Castro Ruz, en la inauguración de la Escuela Latinoamericana de Ciencias Medicas, en ocasión de la IX Cumbre Iberoamericana de Jefes de Estado y de Gobierno’, La Habana, el 15 de noviembre de 1999, http://www.cuba.cu/gobierno/discursos/1999/esp/i151199e.html, viewed 1 May 2012. --- 2007, ‘El Robo de Cerebros’, Granma, 18 July, http://www.granma.cu/espanol/2007/julio/mier18/robo-de-cerebros.html, viewed 1 May 2012. CCSS 2005, Breve reseña histórica del Seguro Social en Costa Rica, Caja Costarricense de Seguro Social, Dirección de Comunicación Organizacional Bienestar por Generaciones, San Jose (Costa Rica). CMB 2008, ‘Cuban Medical Collaboration: Democratic Republic of Timor Leste’, Cuban Medical Brigade ‘Dr Ernesto Guevara de la Serna ‘Che’’, Dili, July. Da Conceição, Ercia 2010, Diskursu iha serimonia graduasaun, Universidade Nasional Timor Lorosae (UNTIL), Dili, 3 Setembru [Dr Ercia Da Conceição nu’udar ema ida husi grupu dahuluk mak sai doutór]. Da Costa Nunes, Ildefonso 2010, Intervista ho makhakerekr, Dili, 15 Jullu [Dr Ildefonso Da Costa Nunes nu’udar ema ida husi grupu dahuluk mak sai doutór]. Da Silva, Colombianus 2010, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, 17 Jullu [Dr Colombianus Da nu’udar ema ida husi grupu dahuluk mak sai doutór]. Da Silva Morais, Julia 2010, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, 17 Jullu [Dr Julia Da Silva Morais nu’udar ema ida husi grupu dahuluk mak sai doutór. De Vos, Pol; Wim de Ceukelaire, Geraldine Malaise, Dennis Pérez, Pierre Lefèvre, Patrick Van der Stuyft 2009, ‘Health Through People’s Empowerment: a rights based approach to participation’, Health and Human Rights, 11(1): 23-35 Dias, Juvencio 2010, Intervista ho makhakerek, Dili, April 2 [Dr Juvencio Dias nu’udar ema ida husi grupu dahuluk mak sai doutór]. Eckstein, Susan Eva 2003, Back from the Future: Cuba Under Castro, Routledge, New York. ECFMG 2008, ‘ECFMG Certification’, Educational Commission for Foreign Medical Graduates, http://www.ecfmg.org/cert/index.html, viewed 1 May 2012. Editec Editores 2005, Ley Constitutiva: Caja Costarricense de Seguro Social, San Jose [Costa Rrica]. Edwards, Cedric 2008, personal communication, 14 September [Louisiana-born Cedric was in 2006 the first US student to graduate from Cuban medical colleges; he is now practising in the US]. Feinsilver, Julie M. 1993, Healing the Masses: Cuban health politics at home and abroad, University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles. García, Gregorio Delgado 1996, ‘Etapas del desarrollo de la salud pública revolucionaria cubana’, Revista Cubana de Salud Pública, 22(1), ene-jun, http://scielo.sld.cu/scielo.php?pid=S086434661996000100011&script=sci_abstract&tlng=en, viewed 1 May 2012. Gleijeses, Piero 1996, ‘Cuba’s first venture into Africa: Algeria, 1961-1965’, Journal of Latin American Studies, 28 (1), Feb: 159-195 Guevara, Ernesto ‘Che’ 1960, ‘On Revolutionary Medicine’, in John Gerassi (1968) Venceremos! The Speeches and Writings of Che Guevara, MacMillan, New York. Guzmán, Rafael González 2009, ‘Latin American Social Medicine and the Report of the WHO Commission on Social Determinants of Health’, Social Medicine, 4(2), June: 113-120. IRIN 2010, ‘TIMOR-LESTE: "Spectacular" reduction in child mortality rates’, AlertNet, 14 July, 51 http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/IRIN/87e9b9f38914dd77178e8b49247f8200.htm, viewed 1 May 2012. Jiménez, Yiliam 2006, Comments in discussion with Papua New Guinea National Planning Minister John Hickey [this writer was present], Havana, September 11. Kirk, John M and H. Michael Erisman 2009, Cuban Medical Internationalism: origins, evolution and goals, Palgrave MacMillan, New York. Llero, Maité 2010, Interview with this writer, Dili, July [Dr Maité Llero is a Cuban doctor who was posted in rural Viqueque and later in Becora, Dili, in 2010]. Lundberg, Olle, Monica Åberg Yngwe, Maria Kölegård Stjärne, Lisa Björk and Johan Frtzell 2008, ‘The Nordic Experience: welfare states and public health (NEWS)’, Health Equity Studies, 12, Centre for Health Equity Studies (CHESS), Stockholm University/Karolinska Institutet, August. Martí, Jose 2002, Selected Writings, Penguin Classics, New York. Martín Diaz, Geidi 2007, Interview with this writer, Los Palos, August 28 [Dr Geidi Martín Diaz is a Cuban doctor who was posted in Los Palos, Timor Leste, 2006-2008]. MEDICC 2008, ‘Cuba & the Global Health Workforce: Health Professionals Abroad’, http://www.medicc.org/ns/index.php?s=12&p=0, viewed 1 May 2012. Medina, Francisco 2006, Talk at Cuban Pavilion, World Social Forum, Caracas, January 28 [Dr Francisco Medina was head of the Cuban Medical Brigade in Timor Leste, 2004-2006]. Minrex 2010, ‘Principales contenidos de la Batalla de Ideas: Revolucionarios Conceptos’, Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, La Habana, http://embacu.cubaminrex.cu/Default.aspx?tabid=2111, viewed 1 May 2012. Ochoa Sato, Rosaida; Isabel Duque Santana, Manuel Hernández Fernández, Leonardo Chacon Asusta; Osmany Ricardo Puig, Francisca Pérez Pérez and Mirna Villalón Oramas 2004, Manual metólogo: trabajo de prevención de la ITS / VIH / SIDA, Ministerio de Salud Publica, Centro Nacional de Prevención de las ITS / VIH / SIDA, Havana. OECD 2003, Poverty and Health: DAC Guidelines and Reference Series, Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (in association with the World Health Organisation), Paris. --- 2010, OECD Economic Surveys: Chile 2010, Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, Paris. PMC 2006, ‘Timor-Leste Medical Students in Cuba “the best and most disciplined”’, Prime Minister and Cabinet, Timor Leste Government, Media Release, 15 November, http://www.pm.gov.tp/15nov06.htm, viewed 1 May 2012. Reed, Gail 2008, ‘Cuba: More Doctors for the World’, MEDICC, April 14, http://www.medicc.org/cubahealthreports/chr-article.php?&a=1066, viewed 1 May 2012. Rigñak, Alberto 2007, Interview with this writer, Dili, August 30 [Dr Alberto Rigñak was Head of the Cuban Medical Brigade in Timor Leste, 2006-09]. Rigñak, Alberto 2008, Interview with this writer, Dili, July 16. Royuela Reyes, Carlos (ed) 2009, ‘Vivencias de los estudiantes internos, sobre el desarrollo del Internado’, República Democrática de Timor Leste, Brigada Médica Cubana, Facultad de Medicina, 29 de octubre. Sachs, J. (Chair) 2001, ‘Macroeconomics and Health: Investing in Health for Economic Development’, Report of the Commission on Macroeconomics and Health, World Health Organization, Geneva, http://whqlibdoc.who.int/publications/2001/924154550X.pdf , viewed 1 May 2012. Sidel, Victor W. 2006, ‘Social Medicine at Montefiore: a personal view’, Social Medicine, 1(1), Feb: 99-103 Smirnow, Gabriel 1973, The Revolution Disarmed, Chile 1970-1973, Monthly Review Press, London. Thorning, Joseph 1945, ‘Social medicine in Cuba: El Centro Asturiano, La Habana’, The Americas, 1(4), Apr: 40455. Waitzkin, Howard 1983, ‘Health Policy and Social Change: a comparative history of Chile and Cuba’, Social Problems, 31(2), Dec: 235-248: --- 2001, ‘Social Medicine Then and Now: lessons from Latin America’, American Journal of Public Health, October 2001, 91(10), http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1446835/pdf/0911592.pdf, viewed 1 May 2012. Winn, Peter 2005, ‘Salvador Allende: His Political Life… and Afterlife’, Socialism and Democracy, 1745-2635, 19, (3): 129-159. World Bank 2004, ‘Spotlight on Costa Rica and Cuba’, World Development Report 2004, Washington, 157-158. 52 6 Sistema Halo To’os Uza Lehe Hodi Hasa’e Produsaun, Hamate Du’ut No Hadia Rai Marcos Correia Vidal ho Rob Williams Lehe aihoris fore-fore ou jenis kacang-kacangan (legominosa) hakiak iha fatin balu iha Timor hodi konsumi hanesan aihan wainhira iha tempu hamlaha. Nian diferensa mak iha prosesu daan lahanesan ho fore sira seluk, tanba lehe tengki tesi to’o dala tolu (3) ka dala ha’at (4) tanba lehe moruk. Timor Lorosa’e ema barak hatene no koinese fore lehe ho lian lokal oin–oin hanesan kemak ema bolu Gabe, makasa’e ema bolu Gabe, Idate (Laherek), tokodede (Dibia) ho lian seluk – seluktan. Iha lian Ingles (Velvet bean), lian latin ou spesifiku (Macuna Pruiens). Parte seluk lehe ema uja hanesan adubus matak ne’be aumenta rai nia bokur (N), hadia tekstura no struktur rai, hamenus erosaun, hamate duut, hasa’e produsaun batar. Sistema ne’e ema uza iha nasaun Honduras (America Latin). Maioria sistema halo toos atu hanesan iha Timor, (toos iha rai lolon, tesi no sunu ). Peskiza ne’e mos atu buka hatene sistema ema Honduras nia ne’be uza lehe hodi hadia rai, aumenta rai nia bokor, nomos hamate duut. Atu nune’e bele fo informasaon ba ita nia toos nain, hodi hasa’e produsaun batar iha sira nia to’os, e nomos bele hamenus sistema tesi ai no sunu rai (Sanginga, et al. 2000). Kuaze 75% ema Timor moris hanesan agricultor, ho sistema subsistensia, tesi no sunu Raí no produz atu konsume deit. Ho ida ne’e sistema kuda lehe ita bele koko iha ita nian rai, tanba lehe mos bele hamenus tempu serbisu toos nain (Statistik Nasional Timor Leste 2011). Metode Fatin no Tempu Peskiza Peskisa ne’e kuda iha tinan-tinan, tinan ida kuda dala rua. Tinan ne’e kuda iha fulan maio 2010 no koileta iha fulan october 2010. Fatin ba peskisa ida ne’e area ne’be fiksu iha Centro peskiza MAP Betano, Desa Betano Sub distritu Same Distrtito Manufahe ho nia a’as husi tasi ibun 7 mdpl ( sukat hodi GPS ). Material nebe uja ba peskiza ne’e Fini Batar, no fini lehe. Material seluk mak hanesan dasi 50 kg no dasi 100 g, no rego, karon, tali rafi, pilox, kalen plat. Tratamentu nebe uja ba peskiza peskiza ne’e uja RCB desain koko iha replikasi 3 (tolu), kombinasaun tratamentu fila rai uja traktor (1), fila rai no kuda lehe (2), la fila rai kuda lehe hamos ho liman (3), lafila rai rega rondap (4), lafila rai kuda lehe no rega rondap (5) lahamos ho liman e nomos la fila ho traktor maibe uja rondap hodi rega duut atu lori kuda fali. Perparasaun fini Perparasaun fini mai husi resultadu peskiza tinan kotuk 2010, koko germinasaun, sura total fini ne’be atu uja no halo koleksaun fini musan ne’be diak. Perpara rai ou to’os Perpara toos tuir tratamentu ne’be iha, tratamentu ne’be fila rai ho traktor entaun uja traktor hodi fila no kalkula ho nia luan total 100m² no nia naruk 120m2, perparasaun to’os ne’e hahu iha tempu hanesan, antes udan iha tempu loro no husik hela semana 3– 4 nia laran depois kuda. Kuda Kuda rai halo iha tempu grade hotu hein udan be’en tun rai (bokon ), kuda fini uja sistema halo Raí-kuak no hatama musan ida–ida kada rai kuak tuir varidade idak-idak ho nia distansia kuda 75x50 cm, data kuda batar 12 Maio 2010 no koileta iha 18 Outobru 2011. 53 Halo tratamentu Peskiza ne’e hamos du’ut wainhira iha duut, antes hamos du’ut foti sampel du’ut ba tetu, data foti du’ut iha 3 Junu 20120. Peskiza ne’e la uza adubus, la rega depende deit ba udan be’en. Wainhira kona moras halo deit observasaun ba moras saida mak kona ba batar ne’e. Observasaun Peskiza ne’e halo observasaun dala rua, fase primeru halo observasaun iha tempu moris, fase segundu ba fase koileta ( resultadu ). Ba fase tempu moris ( pertumbuhan ) sura ema nain hira hamos du’ut (halo observasaun ba du’ut ). Sura hun per sampel 10m2, tetu batar fulin bokon ho kulit, tetu batar ho kulit maran perpetak (kada kantreru), tetu batar ho fulin moos perpetak, tetu batar musan behu, tetu batar musan maran kada kantreru, tetu batar musan 100 (g). Tetu todan du’ut, tetu todan lehe. Analisa dadus Ami hatama dadus hotu ba programa komputador excel no analisa dadus uja Genstat no sidik ragam Anova lsd 5% hodi hatene tratamentu ne’be hetan diferense signifikan ka lae. Benefisiu kuda Lehe no la kuda Lehe Treatmentu La kuda lehe Kuda Lehe Aumenta N 1 ( kg N / ha ) 0 129.6 Produsaun ton /ha 1.77 3.05 Loron kada ha 1 8 2 (Machuka, J. 2000) Nitrogen iha lehe nia tahan no kain hamutuk 2.88% (4.5/10m2*10*0.028(2.88/100) 4.5*1000=4500=4500*0.0288=129.6. Kuda lehe hamenus oras servisu, tamba bainhira ita hamos du’ut iha area ho nia luan plot 40x20m2 durasaun oras servisu total oras rua kada plot. Bainhira ita hamos du’ut iha tratamentu ne’be la kuda lehe persija oras 8 hodi hamos du’ut kada plot. Produsaun ton per hektar iha difrensa signifikan entre tratamentu kuda lehe nomos lakuda lehe. Resultadu Peskisa Batar Lehe 2010-2011 Treatment(Tratamentu) Produsan (t / ha ) Densidade ai horis (m2) Fulin kada hun Todan musan maran kada fulin (gr) Fila rai 1.7 1.6 1.1 44 Lafila rai kuda lehe 3.4 1.9 1.3 69 Fila rai no kuda lehe 2.7 1.8 1.1 70 Lafila rai kuda lehe rega rondap 2.8 1.7 1.1 72 Lafila rai rega rondap 1.7 1.9 1.1 41 l.s.d. 1.0 ns ns 15.9 Resultadu peskisa hatudu katak produsaun ton per ha iha difrensia signifikan entre tratamentu ne’be koko. Hatudu katak iha inpaktu husi kuda lehe nomos la kuda lehe tanba lehe bele fo’o nitrogen ba rai no hadia rai, kaer be’e no hamate duut. Tan ne’e mak iha todan musan maran kada fulin, iha difrensa signifikan entre tratamentu ba batar nia musan maran kada fulin. Rajaun ne’e justifika katak kuda lehe fo benifisio ne’be signifikativu no diferente husi to’os ne’ebe lakuda lehe. Tanba ne’e, kuda lehe bele aumenta haha’an iha rai laran. 54 Konclusaun Peskisa iha tinan ne’e hetan difrensa signifikan iha parte du’ut liu ka konaba hamos du’ut hetan benefisiu ne’be boot husi peskisa ida ne’e. Bainhira uja lehe iha plot du’ut lamoris, tanba lehe taka rai metin lafo’o oportunidade ba du’ut atu moris tanba la hetan loro matan, anin no seluk-seluk tan. To’os ne’ebe lakuda lehe fo vantajen maka’as ba du’ut atu moris, tanba moris ho lifre hetan anin, loro matan no seluk–seluk tan. Ami rekomenda ba to’os nain sira atu kuda lehe iha to’os tanba hamate du’ut no habokor rai. Nune’e mos kuda no hakiak lehe sei hamenus oras servisu nian. Mapa Peskiza Lutu Peskisa Estrada 1 Rep I 1 5 2 3 4 2 Rep II 2 4 1 5 3 3 Rep III 1 3 2 4 5 A B C D E Natar Ukuran Plot 40x20m Distansia kuda 75x50 cm. Ket : 1: fila rai 2: fila rai no kuda lehe 3: la fila rai kuda lehe 4: la fila rai rega Rondap 5: la fila rai, kuda lehe no rega rondap. 55 7 Varidade ba batar balu, bele hetan produsaun aas, ho bele tahan ba fuhuk Felisberto A. Soares, Joao Bosco da Costa RB, Leandro C.R. Pereira Abril de Fatima ho Robert L. Williams Batar mak hanesan komoditi ida ne’be maioria populasaun Timor-Leste gosta han no kuda hodi hetan produsaun diak tuir sira nia hakarak. Maibe variedade ne’e balun ne’be iha produsaun a’as hetan estragu husi fuhuk no labele atu dura iha tempu hirak nia laran. Atu prevene fuhuk ne’be estragu batar no labele rai to’o tempo naruk, maka presiza uza metode oin-oin atu asegura batar labele hetan estragu husi fuhuk. Ami husi MAP ( Ministeria da Agricultura e Pescas ) liu-liu iha programa SOL ( Fini ba Moris ) mos kontinua halo peskiza batar mak fuhuk hodi buka nafatin varidade foun ne’be resistensia ba fuhuk. Atu nune’e bele deskobre tan buat foun ruma husi varidade ne’be iha relasaun ho fuhuk iha komoditi ne’be refere Peskiza ba toleransia batar mak fuhuk durante ne’e halao ona iha sentru peskiza fatin hat no fatin seluk balun iha Timor-Leste. Iha tinan 2006 MAF komesa deskobre ona varidade balun husi komoditi batar ne’be iha resistencia ba fuhuk, fulin metin no produsaun ne’be diak , ne’be hanesan mos nivel populasaun batar lokal. Agrikultór sira iha Timor-Leste uja toleránsia fuhuk hanesan kritériu ba sira hodi halo selesaun ba varidade batar. Ida ne’e rekoñesidu husi agrikultór sira iha loron to’os nain ne’ebe realiza husi programa Seeds of Life wainhira husu ba agrikultór sira atu fo sira-nia opiniaun kona ba oinsa batar nia kulit atu efikaz liu para bele evita fuhuk labele tama ba laran. Batar haloot ne’ebe estragus husi fuhuk bele to’o 30% husi ai-han ne’ebe iha. Varidade lokál ho fulin ki’ik no kulit metin iha tendénsia fo bareira ne’ebe metin para fuhuk labele tama, enkuantu varidade ida husi Indonézia mak hanesan Arjuna ladún adopta diak tanba sai fuhuk hotu se kuandu la haloot iha fatin ne’ebe taka metin. Toleránsia fuhuk sukat iha momentu ne’be halo rekor ba varidade batar hodi hare no uja husi aihoris batar foun ne’ebe uja husi agrikultór subsisténsia liu-liu wainhira haloot nia fulin ho kulit. Métodu Estragus husi fuhuk (Sitophilus zeamais) no kulit metin husi populasaun batar oin 19 sukat tiha ona iha fatin haat iha tinan 2010, depois de fulan sia koileta tinan 2008-2009. Varidade hirak ne’e inklui populasaun batar lokál oin 3, populasaun batar Filipina nian oin 8, no varidade aprovadu rua husi Tailándia ho Índia, 2 husi Zimbabwe, 1 husi Indonézia, no 1 fali varidade rezultadu kruza husi Tailándia ho Indonézia nian. Informasaun detallu kona ba varidade hirak ne’e hetan esplikasaun iha Relatóriu Peskiza Anuál tinan 2009 nian. Batar husi populasaun oin 19 ne’ebe uja ba koko toleránsia fuhuk foti husi fatin testu varidade batar SoL nian. Populasaun batar kuda no haloot iha estasaun peskiza Aileu, Baucau, Betano no Loes. Fatin hirak ne’e reprezenta zona agro-ekolojikal ne’ebe la hanesan. Rezultadu produsaun husi fatin hirak ne’e haktuir detallu iha Relatóriu Peskiza Anuál SoL tinan 2009. Iha kada fatin, testu halo iha dezeñu bloku randomizadu kompletu ho medida area 5m x 5m ho replikasaun tolu. Batar fulin foti husi lina rua parte liur husi kada kantéiru no depois haloot durante fulan sia nia laran ho kulit iha karon nia laran ne’ebe laho labele estraga. Fatin haloot hirak ne’e inklui haloot iha masa nia laran no iha uma oan iha ai nia leten, no iha ai los ida ne’ebe nia lolon prega ho senplat para animal labele sae. Depois de fulan sia, fahe fulin ne’ebe nia kulit metin ho ida ne’ebe la metin keta-ketak. Depois fulin hirak ne’e loke tiha no haree persentajen husi musan ne’ebe hetan ataka husi fuhuk no haree nia persentu husi 0, 10, 50 ou 90%. Dadus hirak ne’e depois hatama ba iha MS Excel spreadsheet hodi kalkula persentajen jerál husi estragus fuhuk iha kada kantéiru no kada fatin antes transfere ba halo analiza diakliu iha GenStat Discovery Edition 3. Rezultadu 56 Iha diferensa ne’ebe signifikante entre varidade ho fatin testu. Iha ne’e la identifika interaksaun entre varidade ho fatin testu ne’ebe observa maibe wainhira koko uja modelu analiza linear kahur. Batar varidade lokál (M45, M47 ho M49) iha nível estragus fuhuk ne’ebe menus liu 18–35% deit wainhira kompara ho varidade foun ne’ebe 27-58% (Tabela 1). Varidade ne’ebe lansa tiha ona hanesan Sele ho Suwan 5 rua ne’e ho nível ne’ebe hanesan iha metade husi Tabela nia kraik. Ida ne’e kontráriu ho esperiéncia antes ne’ebe Sele hatudu rezisténsia liu ba fuhuk wainhira kompara ho Suwan 5. Pakote varidade foun husi avaliasaun foin dadaun ne’e, P07 nia nível rezisténsia ba fuhuk kuaze iha metade nia leten. Ida ne’e hanesan ho agrikultór sira-nia opiniaun ne’ebe konsege koko ona P07. HAR05 ho HAR12 ne’ebe koko mos ona iha agrikultór sira-nia to’os hanesan varidade ne’ebe aprezenta diak liu. Varidade Indonézia nian hanesan Arjuna (M 24) ne’ebe sei uja barak iha Timor Leste konsistentemente hanesan varidade ne’ebe fasil atu hetan estragus husi fuhuk iha fatin hotu-hotu. Tabela 1 – Estragus fuhuk (%) 2010 Varidade M 47 P 08 M 51 M 45 HAR 05 P 01 M 49 P 13 P 03 HAR 12 P 07 M 50 P 02 P 11 P 06 Suwan 5 Sele M 24 P 09 F Prob l.s.d. % cv Rata-rata Rata-rata lokál Aileu 38 30 30 22 40 53 45 17 24 69 35 43 31 68 44 55 46 69 0.028 31 45 42 46 Betano 26 60 31 23 56 40 35 51 60 55 57 56 70 70 64 62 54 72 0.012 27 32 52 28 Loes 23 4 26 12 23 27 23 24 25 36 37 36 43 48 24 42 50 56 46 0.039 28 52 32 19 Skore fuhuk (% estragus) Baucau Rata-rata 12 25 12 27 31 30 18 32 33 29 34 30 35 20 35 40 36 33 37 21 42 42 43 32 44 35 46 25 47 38 47 26 48 54 53 44 58 l.s. 31 21 39 28 St. dev. 11 25 2 8 16 7 13 15 19 13 24 10 10 18 26 12 16 4 15 10 12 Estragus fuhuk jerálmente iha fatin hotu-hotu aprezenta iha Tabela 2 ho númeru sasukat balun ne’ebe relasionadu. Sasukat hotu-hotu kuaze signifikante iha F Pr. <0.05 nune’e mos persentajen estragus fuhuk iha fulin ne’ebe kulit la metin. Sasukat hirak ne’e hatudu liu tan iha gráfiku korelasaun tuir mai. Tabela 2 – Estragus fuhuk ba batar ne’ebe haloot iha estasaun peskiza haat 57 Varidade M 47 P 08 M 45 M 51 HAR 05 P 01 M 49 P 13 P 03 HAR 12 P 07 M 50 P 02 P11 P 06 Suwan 5 Sele M 24 P 09 LSD (P<0.05) Estragus fuhuk (% musan ne’ebe estragus) 24 26 27 29 33 34 35 35 35 37 42 42 43 46 44 47 48 52 57 16 75 66 89 69 69 63 69 54 62 60 48 63 50 55 52 54 61 51 44 Estragus fuhuk ba fulin ne’ebe kulit taka metin (%) 15 17 8 20 21 19 18 22 18 20 39 26 21 28 28 33 31 35 36 Estragus fuhuk ba fulin ne’ebe kulit la metin (%) 50 46 30 52 56 59 63 53 50 63 61 72 63 66 57 69 66 75 74 16 16 l.s. Persentu kulit metin (%) Persentu fulin mos (%) 64 62 74 61 53 45 48 36 46 49 32 45 42 38 34 39 34 31 26 Todan fulin (g) Ratarata produsau n (t/ha) 37 57 35 49 57 51 38 50 57 51 73 51 53 63 56 56 57 53 50 1.3 1.2 0.8 1.3 1.6 1.6 1.0 1.2 1.4 1.7 1.0 1.7 1.6 1.7 1.2 2.0 2.0 1.5 1.7 17 Korelasaun entre todan fulin ho estragus fuhuk kuaze menus liu (Fig 2). Nune’e mos persentajen fulin mos wainhira kompara ho todan fulin kuaze menus nia valor R2. Rezultadu produsaun jerál hatudu korelasaun ne’ebe diak liu ho susceptibilidade/kerentanan ba estragus fuhuk mezmu ida ne’e sei relativamente fraku (Fig 1). Konkluzaun Ho problema fuhuk ne’ebe akontese makaas ba batar ne’ebe agrikultór sira haloot, maka importante tebes ba agrikultór Timorense atu hili varidade batar ne’ebe nia kulit metin no iha rezisténsia ba fuhuk durante periódu haloot. Varidade lokál iha karaterístika ida ne’e, kulit naruk ne’ebe fasilita agrikultór sira atu kesi hamutuk nia tutun no taka metin nia fulin. Maibe hanesan hatudu iha Tabela 2, varidade lokál (hatudu iha letra italics) nia todan fulin kuaze ki’ik liu. Husi testu replikadu batar tinan 2009/10 hatudu importánsia husi todan fulin ba rezultadu produsaun jerál. Ida ne’e bele mos haree liu husi Tabela 2 katak protesaun makaas ne’ebe hatudu husi varidade lokál kuaze hamenus produsaun. Varidade batar fulin bo’ot todan ho produsaun aas maibe la diretamente la ho kulit ne’be naruk. Iha fulin balun mak nia kulit badak liu fali fulin. Laiha korelasaun ne’ebe luan no signifikante entre todan fulin ho nível fuhuk iha dadus ne’be iha leten (Nota: Dadus ne’e sala no seidauk konsegue identifika nia referensia). Maibe diferencia iha karaterístika sira hanesan ne’e bele haree wainhira varidade foun ho lokál lori kompara ba malu no hatudu katak medida fulin bele kontráriu ho rezisténsia ba fuhuk. Agora dadaun iha organizasaun barak mak serbisu iha Timor Lesten ne’ebe promove kona ba oinsa haloot bha bidon laran. Ba agrikultór sira ne’ebe iha asesu ba bidon, kestaun konaba batar fuhuk sai hanesan problema ne’ebe menus ona. Tanba fuhuk bele moris iha kondisaun balun, maka aumenta carbon dioxida ne’ebe produs iha respirasaun sa’e ba nível ne’ebe kritikál no rezulta fuhuk sai mate. Benefísiu aumenta tan husi haloot ho diak fo fiar ba agrikultór sira atu aumenta sira-nia produsaun batar. 58 Enkuantu uja bidon para atu halakon mitigasaun ba karaterístika toleránsia iha fulin, maibe sistema haloot tradisionál hanesan kesi hamutuk kuaze akontese iha teritóriu tomak. Tanba ne’e presija kontinua hili varidade ne’ebe iha toleránsia ne’ebe maka’as. Figura sira Figura 1 – Korelasaun entre estragus fuhuk ba percentu fulin ho kulit mak metin Figura 2 – Korelasaun entre estragus fuhuk ho produsaun ba varidade oin oin. Figura 3 – Korelasaun entre estragus fuhuk ho todan fulin 59 60 Novas investigações sobre Timor-Leste Comunicações em Português editadas por Nuno Canas Mendes 61 8 Arqueologia e Nation Building: Importância do Conhecimento Arqueológico Para a Identidade Nacional de Timor-Leste Nuno Vasco Oliveira1 Introdução A ilha de Timor atraiu desde sempre o interesse da investigação arqueólogica. A parte que actualmente corresponde a Timor-Leste, viu os primeiros trabalhos arqueológicos terem lugar nos anos 30 do século XX. No entanto, as primeiras investigações científicas com carácter sistemático, apenas tiveram lugar no final dos anos 60 do mesmo século e sobretudo a partir do fim da ocupação indonésia, em 2000. No passado, Timor-Leste foi alvo de estudo por parte sobretudo de investigadores portugueses, cujo período colonial durou até 1975. O antigo ‘Timor português’, como era então conhecido, havia sido colónia desde meados do século XVI. No entanto, apenas durante os cerca de 100 últimos anos do regime colonial e, especialmente, durante o Estado Novo, a administração portuguesa reforçou a sua presença e investiu recursos de forma mais sistemática naquela que era a sua colónia mais distante. Hoje em dia, estão documentados mais de 40.000 anos de história da ocupação humana da ilha de Timor, representados numa diversidade significativa de sítios arqueológicos, incluindo concheiros, habitats de ar livre e grutas com ocupação pré-históricos, escarpas e grutas com pinturas rupestres, antigos povoados fortificados pré-coloniais, para além de vestígios dos períodos coloniais português e holandês e evidências das ocupações japonesa e indonésia. Esta informação arqueológica é fundamental para que o novo país cresça conhecedor da sua história, o que por sua vez é imprescindível no processo de criação de um sentimento de identidade nacional para todos os timorenses. Primeiras investigações arqueológicas em Timor Alfred Bühler, que trabalhava para o Museu de Etnografia de Basileia, na Suiça, foi o primeiro a desenvolver trabalhos arqueológicos em Timor, entre Junho e Julho de 1935 De um total de oito escavações arqueológicas levadas a cabo em toda a ilha, apenas uma teve lugar no território que hoje corresponde a Timor-Leste. Infelizmente, ao relatório dessas escavações, publicado por Sarasin enquanto Bühler estava ainda no campo, faltam informações detalhadas, incluindo informação sobre a estratigrafia. O único sítio escavado por Bühler no actual território de Timor-Leste foi um pequeno abrigo sob rocha localizado em Baguia, com cerâmica não decorada e atribuído ao Neolítico (Sarasin 1936). A Missão Antropológica de Timor Nos anos 50, Portugal era um país isolado, governado por um regime autoritário e ditatorial, cientificamente nem sempre a par do que se passava no resto da Europa e do mundo, e lutando para justificar, num ambiente pós-II Guerra Mundial mais favorável à democracia, a manutenção das suas colónias. O Estado Novo tinha muito pouco interesse na antropologia ou na arqueologia, excepto em casos em que pudessem ser utilizadas para sua própria glorificação (Fabião 1996). Não obstante a neutralidade de Portugal durante a Segunda Guerra Mundial, o desembarque de tropas holandesas e australianas em Timor levou à posterior invasão da ilha pelo exército japonês. A ocupação de larga-escala levada a cabo pelo Japão em Timor durou de Fevereiro de 1942 até 1945, resultando em destruição e morte bastante consideráveis (Gunn 1999). Com o fim da Segunda Guerra Mundial e o recuperar do controlo político e administrativo da ex-colónia, era tempo para Portugal reconstruir, tanto a infraestrutura destruída como a parte do orgulho perdido durante a guerra. 1 Secretaria de Estado da Cultura, República Democrática de Timor-Leste and Visiting Fellow at the Australian National University. 62 Foi, portanto, neste contexto que foram criadas as antigas missões em Timor e, nomeadamente, a Missão Antropológica de Timor (MAT). Liderada por António de Almeida, a MAT tinha como principais objectivos investigar a antropologia física e a pré-história de Timor. A primeira campanha de trabalhos de campo teve lugar em 1953, e o principal sítio investigado foi o sítio da Lagoa de Laga (Almeida 1960, 128; Almeida e Zbyszewski 1967). Almeida regressou a Timor em 1957, onde recolheu novos achados de superfície junto à Lagoa de Laga e em Lautém (Corrêa et al. 1956). Em Baguia, foram igualmente fotografados alguns instrumentos em pedra polida, utilizados como objectos sagrados pela comunidade local (Almeida 1960, 128-129). Em 1962, Cinatti, que formalmente não fazia parte da equipa de Almeida mas que trabalhava em Timor para a Junta de Investigações do Ultramar (Stilwell 1995, 299), relata a descoberta de três sítios com pinturas rupestres na zona de Tutuala: as escarpas de Tutuala e de Ili Kerekere e a gruta de Lene Hara (Cinatti 1963). Cinatti sugeriu que as pinturas de Timor estavam relacionadas com as da região das Celebes e eram provavelmente datadas de entre 6500 a 2000 BC. Almeida regressou a Timor uma última vez em Setembro de 1963, e descobriu um outro sítio de arte rupestre, a escarpa de Sunu Taraleu, igualmente localizado em Tutuala (Almeida 1967). Na gruta de Lene Hara, Almeida levou a cabo escavações arqueológicas. Não foram descobertos quaisquer materiais cerâmicos, e a indústria lítica encontrada foi tipologicamente descrita como pré-Neolítica e provavelmente Mesolítica (Almeida e Zbyszewski 1967, 64). Ian Glover e a primeira síntese para a pré-história de Timor Durante o período em que desenvolveu a sua tese de doutoramento na Universidade Nacional da Austrália, em Camberra, Glover (1972) levou a cabo três campanhas de trabalhos de campo em Timor e, entre 1966 e 1967, passou cerca de 10 meses a localizar e a escavar sítios arqueológicos (Glover 1972, 1). Até recentemente, o influente trabalho de Glover constituía o único relato detalhado e abrangente sobre a pré-história de Timor, assente num conjunto de sequências estratigráficas de sítios arqueológicos por si escavados, na identificação e análise sistemáticas de descobertas e em datações radiométricas (Glover 1969, 1971, 1972b, 1973, 1977, 1979 e 1986). Entre as principais questões colocadas por Glover no seu trabalho de investigação, uma estava relacionada com o povoamento inicial do continente australiano pelo homem anatomicamente moderno e a possível utilização da ilha de Timor nesse processo, como uma etapa no processo de migração; e outra com o papel de obstáculo que o mar terá desempenhado no Sudeste Asiático Insular no processo de dispersão da agricultura, que teria tido origem no Sudeste Asiático Continental (Glover 1972, 1). Os quatro principais sítios que englobam a sequência cultural proposta por Glover para a préhistória de Timor foram escavados durante a sua última campanha de trabalhos de campo, entre Junho e Setembro de 1967. Na zona costeira do Planalto de Baucau, Glover escavou as grutas de Bui Ceri Uato e Lie Siri. As outras duas grutas investigadas por Glover estão localizadas na parte superior do Planalto de Baucau, junto a Venilale: Uai Bobo 1 e 2. Com a excepção da introdução de cerâmica e animais domésticos, há aproximadamente 3800 – 3600 cal BP, as sequências culturais em todos estes sítios não sofreram grandes alterações ao longo do tempo. Glover refere que embora o sistema económico praticado pelas populações que habitaram estes sítios tenha deixado de ser de caça e recolecção para passar a ser de agricultura e pastorícia, existe pouca evidência arqueológica para esta mudança nos vários depósitos escavados (Glover 1986, 206). Glover sugere ainda que a agricultura cerealífera poderá ter sido introduzida conjuntamente com as primeiras cerâmicas e animais domésticos, mas não foram encontradas evidências que confirmem esta hipótese (Glover 1986, 202-212 e 229-230). Os anos de ocupação em Tmor Em Setembro de 1975, após a retirada de Portugal da sua antiga colónia, o exército indonésio invadiu e ocupou Timor durante cerca de um quarto de século. Durante esse período, que durou até 1999, não parece terem sido desenvolvidos quaisquer trabalhos arqueológicos sistemáticos, havendo apenas referência à descoberta de superfície de uma lápide funerária do século XVI, de uma princesa originária das Celebes e enterrada em Hera, (Spillett 1990); e à possível existência de dois enterramentos préhistóricos em urnas cerâmicas na aldeia de Dair, perto de Maubara, identificados por responsáveis do 63 antigo Museu da Província de Dili, nos anos 90 (informação pessoal de Virgílio Simith, actualmente Secretário de Estado da Cultura e à época funcionário desse museu). Para além disso, sabe-se igualmente que membros do Centro de Arqueologia de Jakarta, na Indonésia, em conjunto com técnicos do Departamento de Educação e Cultura em Dili, procederam e recolhas de materiais etnográficos, à restauração de monumentos do período colonial português e ao levantamento de diversos aspectos da cultura tradicional de Timor (informação pessoal de Virgílio Simith). Como se referiu, a ocupação indonésia de Timor durou de Dezembro de 1975 até Agosto de 1999. Durante todos esses anos, pois, o governo indonésio vedou a parte oriental da ilha de Timor à investigação internacional e a comunidade científica mudou-se para outras partes da Indonésia onde, desde que não se envolvesse na questão política de Timor, podia continuar a desenvolver investigação. Timor passou então a ser conhecido como ‘Antigo Timor Português’ (Glover 1977, 43; Metzner 1977, xxiii), ou simplesmente como parte da Indonésia. Em Portugal e após 1974, os principais projectos de investigação, tais como a MAT e outros em Timor e nas restantes ex-colónias, deixaram ou de ter recursos ou simplesmente de existir. Durante este período, os investigadores que se dedicavam a Timor tiveram oportunidade de publicar muito poucos artigos científicos (ex.: Lucas et al. 1992; Ramos e Rodrigues 1980). O ambiente científico em Timor viria a mudar após a consulta pública em Timor, em 1999, e logo durante os anos subsequentes de transição, sob os auspícios das Nações Unidas, muitos projectos de investigação tiveram início. O Projecto Arqueológico de Timor-Leste O Projecto Arqueológico de Timor-Leste (ETAP, East Timor Archaeological Project), foi um projecto conjunto entre a Universidade Nacional da Austrália e a Universidade James Cook. Entre as várias interrogações científicas do ETAP contam-se a datação dos primeiros povoamentos humanos em Timor, as possíveis interacções entre populações dos dois principais grupos etnolinguísticos existentes na região – Austronésios e Papuas (ou não-Austronésios) – a caracterização do ‘pacote’ cultural Austronésio em Timor, incluindo a questão das origens da agricultura na ilha, e a história do comércio internacional pré-colonial durante os últimos milhares de anos (Veth et al. 2004). Entre 2000 e 2002, os membros do ETAP levaram a cabo quatro campanhas de trabalhos de campo, tendo estas resultado na descoberta de um conjunto variado de sítios arqueológicos, incluindo concheiros pré-cerâmicos e grutas e abrigos sob rocha, muitos destes contendo vestígios de arte rupestre (Spriggs et al. 2003). A primeira escavação arqueológica levada a cabo pelo ETAP teve lugar em 2001, na gruta de Lene Hara, em Tutuala, onde foram obtidas datações radiocarbono entre 40.000 e 35.000 cal BP (O’Connor et al. 2002, 48; O’Connor et al. 2002b; O’Connor e Veth 2005, 253). Ainda em 2001, foram escavados Macha Kuru 1 e 2. No primeiro, foi escavado um enterramento de um cão, datado directamente por AMS (2967±50 uncal BP). Os autores sugerem que este sítio terá sido ocupado ocasionalmente nos últimos 3000 anos (Spriggs et al. 2003, 56). A escavação de um forno de pedras alinhadas e a evidência da presença do marsupial localmente conhecido como ‘meda’ (Phalanger orientalis), datados de há cerca de 10.000 a 8000 BP, sugerem também contactos culturais e trocas em tecnologias de subsistência com a Papua Nova Guiné, de onde presumivelmente são originários, durante este período (Spriggs et al. 2003, 56; O’Connor 2006, 81-83). Outra gruta escavada no mesmo ano foi Telepunu, na área de Com, junto à ponta oriental de Timor-Leste, interpretado, com base na baixa densidade de materiais culturais encontrada, como tendo apenas sido utilizado de forma ocasional. A ocupação humana em Telepunu estende-se até à fase terminal do Pleistoceno, com uma datação obtida nos níveis de base de 13,695 ± 50 uncal BP. Um projecto de investigação arqueobotânica Entre 2004 e 2008, foi desenvolvido pelo autor (Oliveira 2006 e 2008) um projecto de investigação que visava o estudo de práticas de subsistência nos distritos de Baguia e Baucau durante a pré-história, utilizando restos macrobotânicos recolhidos em escavações arqueológicas. Este projecto procurava essencialmente saber: a) quais as plantas utilizadas pelas comunidades pré-históricas como fonte de alimentação; b) se teria havido modificações nas estratégias de subsistência dessas comunidades por volta de 3500 BP (altura em que são introduzidos os primeiros animais domésticos e as primeiras 64 cerâmicas); e c) qual a datação para a introdução da agricultura cerealífera em Timor, nomeadamente o arroz. Para além de prospecções e sondagens desenvolvidas em Baguia e em Baucau em 2004 (Oliveira 2006), em 2005 foram levadas a cabo escavações sistemáticas na gruta de Bui Ceri Uato Mane, em Baucau (Oliveira 2008). Foram ainda analisados materiais provenientes de outras escavações arqueológicas em Timor-Leste, levadas a cabo por O’Connor e Spriggs. De um ponto de vista dos principais resultados obtidos, a ausência de quaisquer vestígios de cereais (e nomeadamente de arroz) e a identificação de vários tipos e frutos, nozes, tubérculos e feijões, ao longo dos últimos cerca de 10.000 anos, confirma observações etnobotânicas realizadas em vários locais do país, onde apenas a espaços (em planícies costeiras de aluvião, pequenos terraços de altitude ou em quintais) o arroz é predominante, e em que o único cereal cuja utilização em Timor-Leste é generalizada é o milho, introduzido a partir do continente americano e apenas após os primeiros contactos coloniais europeus. Deste modo, e se exceptuarmos a introdução de animais domésticos há cerca de 3500 anos, as principais mudanças em termos de estratégias de subsistência em Timor parecem ter acontecido neste período, com a introdução de vários tipos de legumes, frutos, tubérculos, cereais e produtos para cultivo comercial, como o café. Outros projectos arqueológicos em Timor-Leste Após 2003, um dos membros do ETAP (O’Connor) continuou a desenvolver investigações em TimorLeste e vários outros sítios arqueológicos foram identificados e escavados. Um desses sítios é Jarimalai, uma gruta localizada na zona nordeste da ilha, actualmente com datações entre 43,500 – 42,000 cal BP (O’Connor 2007). As datações dos níveis de base dos quadrados A e B neste sítio constituem as mais antigas conhecidas actualmente em toda a região de Wallacea (O’Connor 2007, 523). O ETAP (e, após o fim deste, O’Connor e a sua equipa) registou igualmente um conjunto significativo de sítios com arte rupestre, a maior parte deles localizada ao logo da parte oriental da costa norte do país, junto a Baucau e em Baguia (O’Connor 2003; O’Connor e Oliveira 2007; Lape et al. 2007). O’Connor (2003) sugere que a arte rupestre de Timor-Leste partilha várias afinidades com o mais vasto grupo de sítios contendo arte parietal na zona ocidental do Pacífico, descritos por Ballard como pertencentes a uma Tradição Austronésia de Pinturas (Ballard 1992). Recentemente, novas linhas de investigação sugerem que alguma da arte rupestre de Timor-Leste possa, na realidade, ser bastante mais antiga do que inicialmente previsto (Aubert et al. 2007, 995). O estudo da arte rupestre de TimorLeste tem vindo continuamente a ser desenvolvido, tendo recentemente sido descoberto na gruta de Lene Hara os primeiros petroglifos conhecidos no país, também eles possivelmente datados do Pleistoceno e relacionados com a ocupação pré-histórica daquele sítio (O’Connor et al. 2010). Peter Lape, da Universidade de Washington, desenvolveu trabalhos arqueológicos em TimorLeste entre 2003 e 2007, tendo identificado e escavado diversos habitats de ar livre. De acordo com Lape, a maior parte destes sítios corresponde a antigas aldeias fortificadas que foram construídas ao longo dos últimos cerca de 1000 anos anteriores aos primeiros contactos com povos de origem europeia, tendo vários deles continuado em ocupação durante a presença portuguesa e até meados do século XX (Lape 2006, 293; Lape e Chin-Yung 2008). Ching-yung, aluno de doutoramento de Lape na Universidade de Washington, desenvolveu prospecções e escavações arqueológicas na região de Manauto, tendo identificado e escavado alguns sítios arqueológicos, incluindo um habitat de ar livre com evidência de cerâmica, conchas marinhas e restos carbonizados, datados de há cerca de 3000 BP (Ching-yung 2008). Em 2006, arqueólogos do Instituto de Investigação para o Desenvolvimento (IRD, Institut de Recherche pour le Développement), com base em Jakarta, visitaram alguns sítios arqueológicos em Timor-Leste (Guillaud et al. 2006), estando previstos para breve novos trabalhos arqueológicos no país por parte de investigadores daquela instituição (Forestier, comunicação pessoal). Helen Selimiotis desenvolveu trabalho sobre fontes de matéria-prima em sílex no Planalto de Baucau como parte do seu projecto de mestrado, tendo procedido a uma reanálise das indústrias líticas recolhidas por Glover em Bui Ceri Uato nos anos 60. A nova sequência de datações radiocarbono obtida no âmbito deste projecto faz recuar a primeira ocupação do sítio à fase final do Pleistoceno, com uma data de cerca de 30.000 BP (Selimiotis 2006). 65 A investigação arqueológica em Timor-Leste continua actualmente e reflecte uma diversidade de perspectivas e interesses. Entre estas estão as possíveis relações entre a arte rupestre e a tecnologia marítima (Lape et al. 2007), a construção de fortificações como resposta humana às mudanças climáticas (Lape e Ching-yung 2008) e o rastreamento de fontes de obsidiana na pré-história através de análises químicas sobre instrumentos líticos (Ambrose et al. 2009; Reepmeyer et al. 2011), Recentemente, o autor tem vindo a desenvolver escavações arqueológicas na aldeia de Dair, perto de Maubara, onde foram descobertas quantidades significativas de cerâmica e onde existem dois possíveis enterramentos em urnas cerâmicas associados a uma aldeia pré-histórica. Este projecto tem como objectivo dar a conhecer a pré-história e potenciar a criação de um núcleo museológico em Dair, que funcione como elemento dinamizador de desenvolvimento local, através do turismo cultural e da criação de um sentimento de identidade nacional. A ocupação indonésia de Timor-Leste, entre 1975 e 1999, resultou na impossibilidade de aí desenvolver trabalhos arqueológicos durante quase 25 anos. A partir de 2000, porém, novas linhas de pesquiza e novos resultados foram surgindo, e questões como a da relação entre as mais antigas datações do Pleistoceno em Timor e na Austrália (que fornecem apoio ao modelo que sugere que Timor funcionou como ponte de passagem para a colonização humana da Austrália); uma cronologia mais fina para a introdução das primeiras domesticações animais e das primeiras cerâmicas; e questões relacionadas com a produção de alimentos e de subsistência na pré-história, estão agora respondidas de forma mais satisfatória. A investigação arqueológica produzida ao longo dos últimos anos em Timor-Leste é muito significativa e perspectiva-se que ao longo dos próximos anos serão feitas novas descobertas. Os novos planos curriculares para o 7º, 8º e 9º anos de escolaridade irão já integrar muita desta informação, o que constitui um primeiro passo na divulgação deste importante conhecimento sobre a história mais antiga do país. Ao longo dos próximos anos, este esforço deverá ser completado com a produção de novos materiais nas línguas oficiais e nacionais, de forma a que a ciência e o conhecimento arqueológicos possam verdadeiramente contribuir para o desenvolvimento de um sentimento de pertença e identidade nacional em Timor-Leste. Agradecimentos Pedro Lebre e Tio Martinho (Baguia); Naha Suso (Rai Nain), Manuel Belo, Constantino Belo, Augusto Belo e Marcelino Belo, em Kaisido/Oso Ua-Uaisa (Baucau). Secretaria de Estado da Cultura de TimorLeste e, em particular, a S.E. o Sr. Secretário de Estado Virgílio Simith. Sue O’Connor, Matthew Spriggs, Andrew Fairbairn e Peter Bellwood (Universidade Nacional da Austrália). Emma Bonthorne e Patrícia Baptista (voluntárias de campo). Guilherme Cartaxo e Hugo Ferreira (GeRTIL). Lyn Craven e Frank Zich (Herbário Nacional da Austrália). O trabalho de campo em 2004 e 2005 foi realizado no âmbito de um projecto de doutoramento, financiado pela Fundação para a Ciência e a Tecnologia e pelo Departamento de Arqueologia e História Natural, ANU. Notas Algumas datações no texto não estão calibradas e são referidas como BP ou uncal BP. Sempre que possível, são fornecidas datações calibradas com 95% de probabilidades a 2 σ (sigma), utilizando as versões on line de Calib. 5.2 e CalPal 2007 (ver Oliveira 2008, 7 para uma explicação completa e Oliveira 2008, 297-305 para o conjunto de datações radiocarbono mencionado no texto). Este texto é uma versão resumida do artigo ’75 Anos de Investigações Arqueológicas em Timor-Leste’, que irá ser publicado nas actas do colóquio Timor: Missões Científicas e Antropologia Colonial, realizado em Lisboa, no IICT, nos dias 24 e 25 de Maio de 2011. 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(ed), Archaeological Theory and Practice, Seminar Press, London, pp. 105-129. --- 1977, ‘The Late Stone Age in Eastern Indonesia’, World Archaeology, 9: 42-61. --- 1979, ‘Prehistoric Plant Remains from Southeast Asia, with Special Reference to Rice’ in Taddei, M. (ed), South Asian Archaeology 1977. Papers from the Fourth International Confrence of the Association of South Asian Archaeologists in Western Europe, Instituto Universitario Orientale, Naples, pp. 7-37. --- 1986, Archaeology in Eastern Timor, 1966-67, RSPAS, Australian National University, Canberra. Guillaud, D., D. Dussy, H. Forestier 2006, Rapport de mission exploratoire a Timor Leste dans le domaine archeologique et ethno-geographique. IRD – CNRS, http://hal.ird.fr/docs/00/53/69/86/PDF/timor06.pdf, viewed 26 April 2012. Gunn G. C. 1999, Timor Lorosae: 500 anos, Livros do Oriente, Macau. Lape P.V. 2006, ‘Chronology of Fortified Settlements in East Timor’, Journal of Island & Coastal Archaeology, 1: 285-297. Lape P. V, C. Chin-Yun 2008, ‘Fortification as a human response to late Holocene climate change in East Timor,’Archaeology in Oceania, 43: 11-21. Lape P. V, S. O'Connor, N. Burningham 2007, ‘Rock Art: A Potential Source of Information about Past Maritime Technology in the South-East Asia-Pacific Region’, The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 36: 238-253. Lucas M.P., P. Cardim, M. C. Neto, M. E. C. Almeida 1992, ‘Breves notas sobre a contribuição da Missão Antropológica do Centro de Antropologia e seus antecessores na arqueologia de Timor’ Leba, 7: 269276. Metzner J. K. 1977, Man and Environment in Eastern Timor: a geoecological analysis of the Baucau-Viqueque Area as a possible basis for regional planning, ANU, Canberra. O'Connor S. 2006, ‘Unpacking the Island Southeast Asian Neolithic Cultural Package, and Finding Local Complexity’ in Bacus, E. A., I. C. Glover e V. C. Pigott (eds), Uncovering Southeast Asia's Past. Selected Papers from the 10th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, The British Museum, London 14th-17th September 2004, National University of Singapore, Singapore, pp. 74-87. 67 --- 2007, ‘New evidence from East Timor contributes to our understanding of earliest modern colonisation east of the Sunda Shelf’, Antiquity, 81: 523-535. O'Connor S, M. Spriggs, P. Veth 2002a, ‘Excavation at Lene Hara Cave establishes occupation in East Timor at least 30,000-35,000 yeasrs ago’, Antiquity, 76: 45-50. --- 2002b, ‘Direct dating of shell beads from Lene Hara Cave, East Timor’, Australian Archaeology 55: 18-21. O'Connor S., P. Veth 2005, ‘Early Holocene shell fish hooks from Lene Hara Cave, East Timor establish complex fishing technology was in use in Island South East Asia five thousand years before Austronesian settlement’, Antiquity,,79: 249-256. O'Connor S., N. V. Oliveira 2007, ‘Inter- and Intraregional Variation in the Austronesian Painting Tradition: A View from East Timor’, Asian Perspectives, 46: 389-403. O’Connor, S., K. Aplin, E. St Pierre, Y-x. Feng 2010, ‘Faces of the ancestors revealed: discovery and dating of a Pleistocene-age petroglyph in Lene Hara Cave, East Timor’ Antiquity, 84: 649-665. Oliveira N.V. 2006, ‘Returning to East Timor: Prospects and Possibilities from an Archaeobotanical Project in the New Country’ in Bacus, E. A., I. C. Glover, V. C. Pigott (eds), Uncovering Southeast Asia's Past. Selected Papers from the 10th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, The British Museum, London 14th-17th September 2004, National University of Singapore, Singapore, pp. 88-97. --- 2008, Subsistence Archaeobotany: Food Production and the Agricultural Transition in East Timor, Canberra, The Australian National University (tese de doutoramento não publicada), http://palaeoworks.anu.edu.au, viewed 26 April 2012. Ramos, M., M.C. Rodrigues 1980, ‘Espólios Sepulcrais Timorenses’, Leba 3: 47-57. Reepmeyer, C., S. O'Connor, S. Brockwell 2011, ‘Long-term obsidian use at the Jerimalai rock shelter in East Timor’, Archaeology in Oceania, 46(2): 85-90. Sarasin F. 1936, ‘Beiträge zur Prähistorie der Inseln Timor und Roti’, Verhandlungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft, 47: 1-59. Selimiotis H. 2006, The Core of the Matter: Core Reduction in Prehistoric East Timor, The Australian National University, Canberra (tese de mestrado não publicada). Spillett, P. 1990, ‘Wehiriya – a missing grave and a lost town’, The Beagle, Records of the Northern Territory Museum of Arts and Sciences, 7(2): 89-93. Spriggs M, S. O'Connor, P. Veth 2003, ‘Vestiges of Early Pre-agricultural Economy in the Landscape of East Timor: Recent Research’ in Karlström, A. e A. Källén (eds), Fishbones and Glittering Emblems. Southeast Asian Archaeology 2002, Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities - Östasiatiska Museet, Stockholm, pp. 49-58. Stilwell P. 1995, A Condição Humana em Ruy Cinatti, Editorial Presença, Lisboa. Veth P., S. O'Connor, M. Spriggs 2004, ‘Changing research perspectives from Australia's doorstep: the Joint Australian-Indonesian Aru Islands Initiative and the Archaeology of East Timor Project’ in Murray, T. (ed), Archaeology from Australia, Australian Scholarly Publishing, Melbourne, pp. 209-230. 68 9 Registos Escritos, Memórias, Objectos e Saberes... A Importância do Conhecimento e da Recuperação da Informação Histórica Sobre Timor Para a História de Timor-Leste Ana Cristina Roque1, Nuno Vasco Oliveira2, and Vítor Rosado Marques3 Introdução O trabalho que aqui se apresenta enquadra-se do projecto Conhecimento e Reconhecimento em Espaços de Influência Portuguesa: registos, expedições científicas, saberes tradicionais e biodiversidade na África Subsariana e na Insulíndia4. Em termos gerais, o projecto visa proceder ao resgate da informação histórica respeitante a recursos naturais, biodiversidade e saberes e práticas tradicionais no sentido de demonstrar a importância actual desta informação em Cabo Verde, Guiné-Bissau, S.Tomé e Príncipe, Moçambique e Timor, com o objectivo de disponibilizar a informação recuperada e articulá-la com diferentes projectos em curso, no IICT ou noutras instituições, tendo em vista a sua contribuição para uma melhor compreensão da situação actual destes países, ajudando a identificar dificuldades actuais e a cooperar na sua resolução. Financiado pela FCT, no âmbito do Programa História da Ciência, o projecto inscreve-se no contexto da iniciativa portuguesa junto da CPLP, que o IICT assume como um dos aspectos principais da sua missão (http://www2.iict.pt/?idc=1&idl=1). Neste contexto, a disponibilização de informação e o acesso e divulgação do património que sobre os países da CPLP existe no IICT, constituem uma componente importante deste projecto. Contudo, pretende-se igualmente que esta divulgação se faça não só pela informação do que existe, mas também por via de estudos que valorizem e contextualizem esse património em termos actuais, reconhecendo-lhe uma importância que ultrapassa o contexto colonial e as limitações que, por vezes, o mesmo ainda impõe ao seu uso e estudo. Assim, no que respeita à componente específica dos saberes e em termos deste projecto, a recuperação da informação histórica visa o seu melhor conhecimento e divulgação numa perspectiva de reconhecimento e identificação dos saberes e das práticas tradicionais nestas sociedades, com especial relevância para as que possam contribuir para pensar alternativas que tenham em vista o bem-estar das populações. Tal implica uma abordagem comparativa e multidisciplinar, histórica, sociológica, antropológica, etnobotânica..., a espaços geográficos continentais e insulares onde se desenvolveram missões científicas e sobre os quais o IICT dispõe de um património documental e material significativo, na perspectiva da sua contextualização e revalorização no espaço global e remetendo para as questões da salvaguarda das identidades, saberes, valores e dignos padrões de vida das comunidades locais face à globalização. A pesquisa incide, num primeiro momento, na documentação produzida / recolhida no âmbito de missões científicas (séculos XVIII-XX) e por colectores individuais: descrições e notas de viagem, relatórios, cadernos de campo, material de herbário, fotografias, desenhos, receituários..., podendo, num momento posterior e desejavelmente, cruzar-se com informação de trabalhos de campo que, de algum modo, possibilitem a validação destas informações e confirmem o seu potencial interesse na actualidade. 1 Instituto de Investigação Científica e Tropical. Secretaria de Estado da Cultura RDTL. 3 Instituto de Investigação Científica e Tropical. 4 Proj. FCT 0075/2009, a desenvolver entre 2010 e 2012, proposto pelo IICT e que tem como parceiros institucionais a Universidade Nova de Lisboa, por via do Centro de História de Além-mar, e a Universidade Técnica de Lisboa, por via do Centro de Administração de Políticas Públicas do Instituto Superior de Ciências Sociais e Políticas. O projecto conta ainda com a colaboração de Investigadores do Centro InterUniversitário de História da Ciência da Faculdade de Ciências da Universidade de Lisboa, da Universidade do Algarve e da Secretaria de Estado da Cultura de Timor Leste. 2 69 Em termos de resultados finais, espera-se que os trabalhos a desenvolver possibilitem a constituição de um corpus documental de referência histórico e geográfico sobre as regiões e temáticas abordadas e a estruturação e desenvolvimento de bases de dados temáticas de referência relativas à informação histórica e geográfica recolhida e sua disponibilização on-line e/ou em formato digital, de par com a disponibilização de informação relativa ao património do IICT, a identificação de situações em que a recuperação de saberes e técnicas tradicionais possa constituir, nos países visados, um ponto de partida para o desenvolvimento de projectos que visem melhorar as condições de vida e o bem-estar das populações e a elaboração e publicação de estudos com base na informação recolhida com vista à avaliação do seu contributo para a apresentação de soluções alternativas para problemas actuais. Neste contexto e no que respeita especificamente a Timor, o primeiro ano do projecto permitiunos já proceder ao inventário e registo em base de dados da cartografia de Timor, existente nos arquivos da Comissão de Cartografia no Departamento de Ciências Humanas no IICT, à sistematização da informação cartográfica e documental relativa à acção da Comissão de Delimitação de Fronteiras de Timor, ao levantamento e organização dos artigos sobre Timor, publicados no Boletim Geral do Ultramar e no Boletim Geral das Colónias entre 1925 e 1970, ao inventário, organização e digitalização de fotografias, desenhos e cartografia do espólio da Missão Antropológica de Timor (1953/74 e 1970)5, à organização do colóquio Timor Missões Científicas e Antropologia Colonial (AHU, 24-25 de Maio de 2011) em parceria com o ICS-UL, e à organização da exposição Timor: Ciência, Saberes e Património através das colecções do Instituto de Investigação Científica Tropical (AHU, Maio de 2011). A Colecção da Missão Anthropológica de Timor Tendo em consideração o que acima é referido, uma das colecções sobre as quais se tem vindo a trabalhar é a Colecção da Missão Antropológica de Timor, sendo que as razões desta escolha se prendem com a sua divulgação em função de dois objectivos específicos, a saber, perceber esta colecção no seu contexto histórico e repensar a sua relevância para lá do contexto colonial, e avaliar a sua importância como fonte de informação para o estudo, recuperação e preservação do património histórico-cultural de Timor-Leste. Enquadramento geral da Missão Antropológica de Timor (MAT) Criada a 8 de Junho de 1953, a Missão Antropológica de Timor foi a última de uma série de Missões Antropológicas promovidas e incentivadas pela Junta das Missões Geográficas e de Investigações Coloniais desde a sua criação em 1936. Dotada de competências específicas para coordenar e promover a investigação colonial, a Junta assumiu a necessidade de investir não só no conhecimento dos territórios coloniais e das suas potencialidades e recursos, como no desenvolvimento de estudos de natureza antropológica. Neste contexto, a criação destas Missões Antropológicas tinha como principal objectivo “o conhecimento dos grupos étnicos de cada um dos domínios ultramarinos...” ou, mais precisamente, “a elaboração das respectivas cartas etnológicas” (Decreto-Lei 26 842 de 28 de Julho de 1936), sendo que para tal actuaram de forma específica nos diversos territórios então sob domínio colonial português, e em conformidade com as directrizes do Plano de Investigação Científica do Ultramar. Sob a direcção de António de Almeida, a equipa da MAT era constituída por um pequeno grupo de funcionários da metrópole - dois auxiliares e um técnico cinematográfico e de gravação de som, que também assegurava a condução de viaturas – aos quais se associavam localmente outros elementos, indispensáveis ao apoio e acompanhamento dos trabalhos, designadamente no que respeitava aos estudos linguísticos e às pesquisas antropológicas. À semelhança dos planos de trabalho das demais Missões Antropológicas, o plano da MAT privilegiava os estudos de natureza antropobiológica para os quais se tornava indispensável o apoio das autoridades locais que deveriam providenciar não só o apoio logístico, material e humano, como assegurar a concentração das populações nos postos previamente escolhidos para a Missão trabalhar. Os registos faziam-se de forma sistemática e exaustiva de forma a registar dados antropométricos e caracteres descritivos. A estes se acrescentavam informações sobre aspectos específicos dos observados, bem como outras particularidades do seu quotidiano e do seu 5 Trabalho em curso. 70 comportamento que, em muitos casos, tiveram também registo de imagem (foto e/ou filme) e som (gravação). Embora não sendo condicionantes ou determinantes dos trabalhos de natureza antropológica, a MAT incluía também no seu programa a recolha de dados etnográficos, linguísticos e até mesmo arqueológicos, considerados indispensáveis ao enquadramento dos trabalhos e a uma melhor compreensão do território e da forma como o mesmo foi sendo ocupado e aproveitado pelos vários grupos populacionais. Dos trabalhos da MAT resultou um acervo vastíssimo e de natureza muito variada que se encontra distribuído por várias instituições, de entre as quais, a Sociedade de Geografia de Lisboa, o Museu de Etnologia e o Instituto de Investigação Científica Tropical6, herdeiro da antiga Junta das Missões Geográficas e de Investigações Coloniais, no seio da qual se desenvolveram os trabalhos da várias Missões Antropológicas. Nota sobre os materiais produzidos e o espólio recolhido em Timor A colecção da MAT é constituída por dois tipos distintos de materiais. Por um lado, os materiais que foram produzidos em e sobre Timor e que incluem tudo o que foi previamente preparado para que a MAT pudesse efectuar os trabalhos no terreno, toda a documentação produzida durante os trabalhos de campo e os estudos efectuados sobre esta documentação. Por outro lado, os materiais que foram recolhidos em Timor. Trata-se, por isso, de uma colecção heterogénea mas coerente, porque integra e testemunha todas as vertentes consideradas na organização e no trabalho desenvolvido pela MAT, e onde grosso modo podemos especificar, documentação manuscrita e impressa, cartografia impressa, desenhos, fotografias; filmes e gravações áudio, materiais arqueológicos e materiais etnográficos, para além das muitas publicações e estudos produzidos no âmbito dos trabalhos desenvolvidos pela equipa da MAT e pelo equipamento que esta utilizou no terreno. Documentação escrita e manuscrita O núcleo documental é um dos mais vastos e não está ainda totalmente inventariado. Diz respeito a todos os aspectos do trabalho desenvolvido. Apesar da forte componente antropológica, que inclui tabelas de caracteres descritivos, morfológicos e linguística, este núcleo inclui um conjunto de relatórios, correspondência e documentação oficial, de que destacamos os cadernos de campo de António de Almeida, os cadernos de respostas aos Questionários sobre a Escravidão que foram efectuados em todo o território, as notas etnográficas e o Relatório sobre a Missão de Estudo do Habitat Nativo, elaborado pelos Arquitectos Leopoldo de Almeida e Sousa Mendes, em 1959, e que serviu de base ao livro de Ruy Cinnati Arquitectura Timorense, de que são co-autores. O conjunto desta documentação tem vindo a ser estudado no âmbito de projectos em curso no IICT ou nos quais o IICT colabora e de que resultaram já o tratamento dos dados antropométricos recolhidos, estando presentemente a ser estudada documentação mais relacionada com os trabalhos arqueológicos empreendidos no âmbito das Missões Antropológicas. Cartografia manuscrita, esboços e desenhos A cartografia manuscrita respeita fundamentalmente a três aspectos: divisão administrativa, divisão étnica e distribuição regional dos diferentes dialectos. A maior parte das cartas / esboços estão associadas a outra documentação escrita onde é feita uma descrição mais exaustiva do esboço apresentado como, por exemplo, no caso dos Questionários Etnográficos acima referidos. Contrariamente a outras Missões, a MAT não dispõe de um núcleo de desenhos numericamente significativo. Contudo, os poucos desenhos existentes constituem um registo informativo muito preciso que nos permite visualizar um conjunto de instrumentos e técnicas usadas pelas populações locais e nos 6 A colecção da MAT no IICT incluiu materiais das 6 campanhas desenvolvidas até aos anos 70, e encontra-se repartida por dois sectores, a saber: O K - Centro de Preservação e Acesso (materiais arqueológicos) e o Departamento de Ciências Humanas, estando a ser objecto de estudo no âmbito de projectos de investigação em curso neste Departamento. 71 remete directamente para o campo dos saberes tradicionais, designadamente ao nível das múltiplas utilizações do bambu. Alguns destes desenhos reproduzem equipamentos que foram também fotografados, designadamente a utilização do bambu, seja para a condução das águas e o sistema de rega, seja para o transporte de vinho de palma ou mesmo para a montagem das estruturas das habitações. Deste modo, cruzando descrição, esboço e imagem é possível recuperar um conjunto de informações pertinentes no que respeita ao uso tradicional do bambu, que poderão ter uma aplicação prática nos dias de hoje e constituir alternativas viáveis face à inexistência ou escassez de outros materiais usados mais recentemente para os mesmos objectivos. Fotografias e material audiovisual As fotografias constituem um dos núcleos mais significativos deste espólio. São milhares de fotografias, na sua maioria em suporte de papel e alguns negativos de vidro, a maior parte devidamente legendadas. Até ao momento estão inventariadas e em base de dados cerca de 2000 imagens, sendo que este número não é nem sequer metade da sua totalidade. Por sua vez, mercê da possibilidade de adquirir e utilizar equipamento específico para filmar e gravar som, a equipa da MAT teve ainda oportunidade de fazer registos sonoros – gravação de músicas, canções, conversas.... - e filmes. No seu conjunto, estes registos atestam não só todas as actividades desenvolvidas pela Missão, como inúmeros aspectos do habitat e da vida dos timorenses. Em qualquer dos casos, o registo foi meticuloso, testemunhando a diversidade étnica e cultural de Timor e permitindo captar aspectos específicos do património histórico-cultural, alguns dos quais hoje desaparecidos. Este núcleo adquire particular importância porquanto permite a recuperação de informação sobre a tecnologia tradicional do trabalho do bronze, da prata e da madeira, das técnicas da tecelagem e coloração dos fios de algodão e do trabalho com fibras vegetais, bem como o património arquitectónico hoje desaparecido. Através destas imagens é possível recuperar informação sobre a estrutura de antigas povoações, sobre os tipos de construção específicos a cada grupo étnico, sobre a localização de casas sagradas e de aldeias inteiras hoje desaparecidas, complementando deste modo a informação compilada nos estudos de Leopoldo de Almeida, Sousa Mendes e Ruy Cinnatti, e que podem constituir referências fundamentais em caso de eventuais projectos de recuperação e reconstrução que se julgue importante incentivar. Paralelamente, estas imagens informam também sobre todo um outro património arquitectónico, dito colonial, onde se incluem instalações de utilidade pública – hospitais, centros de saúde, escolas, mercados, lavadouros públicos, chafarizes... –, obras públicas e instalações administrativas que, de igual modo e em articulação com as respectivas plantas, projectos e memórias descritivas que, não raro, integram a documentação existente no Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, permitem a sua recuperação se considerada relevante. Materiais arqueológicos No que respeita a materiais arqueológicos, o espólio recolhido em Timor é constituído por duas colecções: a colecção Correia de Campos, cujos materiais não foram recolhidos pela MAT, e as colecções resultantes dos trabalhos de prospecção e escavação sumária desenvolvidos pela MAT em Timor. A primeira é constituída por materiais arqueológicos e etnoarqueológicos, recolhidos nos anos 30 em sepulturas da região de Alas, e inclui um conjunto significativo de objectos de adorno pessoal, que foram já inventariados, trabalhados e publicados (Ramos 1980 e Roque 2001), se bem que até ao momento não tenha sido possível apurar quem procedeu de facto à sua recolha, de que forma esta foi feita e especificamente onde, considerando a globalidade da região de Alas. Quanto à colecção da MAT (Roque 2001), é composta por materiais líticos, osteológicos e malacológicos, recolhidos pela MAT em 19 sítios arqueológicos, embora apenas em 6 casos tenham sido fruto de prospecção e/ou de escavação. Estão neste caso os materiais recolhidos em Laga e na gruta de Lene Hara. Para qualquer destes dois sítios o espólio da MAT dispõe não só dos materiais como de 72 fotografias que testemunham as diferentes fases das escavações e, mesmo, para o caso de Laga, de pequenos textos que fazem o acompanhamento dos trabalhos. Em qualquer dos casos trata-se de colecções de referência, a ter em conta em futuros trabalhos de arqueologia a desenvolver, mas contextualizada agora e re-analisada em função destes novos trabalhos e dos seus resultados. Materiais etnográficos O núcleo etnográfico é, de todos, o mais reduzido. Inclui dois teares tradicionais com os tais ainda montados, alguns cestos de palapa e umas quantas peças de artesanato em bronze e em madeira. Estas poucas peças foram também objecto de registo fotográfico e, no caso da tecelagem e do trabalho em bronze e prata, constituíam ainda parte dos filmes feitos pela Missão. Nota Final Independentemente do contexto colonial em que se desenvolveu este tipo de Missões e das situações mais ou menos conflituais em que os trabalhos se possam ter realizado, é importante olharmos hoje para estes materiais numa óptica de reavaliação das múltiplas informações que neles se pode recuperar. Na perspectiva dos aspectos que consideramos essenciais para o projecto que temos em curso, torna-se evidente que cada um destes objectos e documentos permite leituras diversas sobre vários elementos do património histórico e cultural de Timor e que, quando analisados na sua globalidade, podem fornecer dados complementares importantes sobre a história das gentes e lugares de Timor, sobre os recursos naturais, actividades económicas ou tradições culturais. Não deixando de ser um testemunho importante sobre a forma como os portugueses perceberam e apreenderam o território, a colecção da MAT e o seu estudo podem contribuir para uma melhor percepção e compreensão da história e da cultura de Timor durante o período colonial e, em simultâneo, concorrer para a actual recuperação e preservação de aspectos particulares do património históricocultural de Timor-Leste. Bibliografia Ramos, Miguel e Rodrigues, M. Conceição 1980, ‘Espólios sepulcrais timorenses’, Leba: Estudos de PréHistória e Arqueologia, 3: 47-57. Roque, Ana Cristina e Ferrão, Lívia 2001, ‘Notas para um inventário do património histórico-cultural de Timor Lorosa’e’, Anais de História de Além-Mar, Lisboa, II: 423-448. 73 10 Para além do visível. Percepções de direitos humanos nos murais e graffiti de TimorLeste1 Marisa Ramos Gonçalves2 Resumo Os murais e graffiti fazem parte da paisagem das cidades e vilas de Timor-Leste. Alguns representam memórias da violência da ocupação indonésia, outros celebram a conquista da independência e a própria identidade timorense. Durante a crise de 2006 as paredes ‘gritaram’ palavras de frustração contra os líderes políticos após a violência política que se seguiu à destituição dos soldados peticionários das forças armadas. Em 2006, o presidente Ramos-Horta convidou um grupo de jovens artistas do colectivo ‘Arte Moris’, uma escola de artes local, para pintar murais nas paredes de Díli que comunicassem ideias de paz e de unidade nacional. Esta iniciativa, pouco ortodoxa para um chefe-de-estado, demonstra que os murais são o meio de comunicação mais democrático e acessível do país. Para além disso, o carácter sensorial das artes visuais abre espaço para exprimir as vivências do colonialismo e debater ideias de identidade e nação. Nesta comunicação irei explorar os murais e graffiti em Timor-Leste como espaços de liberdade de expressão e diálogo sobre percepções de direitos humanos. Palavras-Chave Timor-Leste; Gerações e memória; Graffiti e arte mural; Percepções de direitos humanos; Sociedades pós-conflito. A imagem de um fantasma com o rosto sinistro de uma caveira e vestido com um casaco de capuz verde aponta na direcção dos transeuntes como se os intimasse. O mural3 inclui um texto na Língua Tétum onde se poder ler ‘Matebian. Ha’u sei hein ó se ó hanoin aat ba rai ida ne’e’, que significa ‘Espírito dos mortos. Estarei à tua espera se tiveres más intenções para com esta terra’. Os Matebians (antepassados/espíritos dos mortos) ocupam um lugar central na cosmologia animista timorense. Os Timorenses acreditam que ‘se alguém tem uma morte ‘má’ ou devido a causas não naturais […] o seu espírito possa procurar vingança contra a sua família e comunidade’ (Kent 2010, 209). Este é o caso das pessoas que morreram durante o conflito indonésio para os quais não foi possível realizar rituais fúnebres de acordo com a tradição porque os seus restos mortais não foram recuperados. Uma grande parte da sociedade timorense acredita que esses espíritos são ‘almas viajantes’ com poder de influenciar o mundo dos vivos (Kent 2010, 209). O significado da expressão Matebian estende-se, por isso, aos ‘mártires e heróis da guerra que sacrificaram as suas vidas durante a resistência’ (Trindade e Bryant 2007, 18). Matebian dá o nome a uma das montanhas na parte oriental de Timor-Leste que é considerada um santuário da resistência timorense onde a guerrilha da FRETILIN4 se organizou nos anos iniciais da ocupação indonésia. Em 1978, centenas de Timorenses morreram, incluíndo a população civil, na 1 Esta comunicação baseia-se na fase preliminar da candidatura de doutoramento com o tema ‘Intergenerational perceptions of human rights in Timor-Leste: Peacebuilding and social cohesion’, orientado pela Professora Vera Mackie, no Institute for Social Transformation Research, Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong. 2 UOW, Institute for Social Transformation Research, Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong NSW, Australia. 3 Uma fotografia deste mural está incluída no livro: Parkinson, Chris 2010, Peace of wall: street art from East Timor, Affirm Press, Mulgrave, Vic, Australia, 114. 4 Frente Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente. FRETILIN designa o partido timorense criado em 1974 no período de descolonização durante o qual se planeavam as primeiras eleições do país. As eleições não se realizaram devido à guerra civil travada entre a FRETILIN e outro dos partidos recém-criados, a UDT (União Democrática Timorense). Após a invasão indonésia em 1975, os membros da FRETILIN procuraram refúgio nas montanhas e organizaram a resistência armada contra as forças indonésias (Infopédia 2003-2011). 74 montanha Matebian em resultado da operação militar de ‘cerco e aniquilação’ e de bombardeamentos aéreos intensos realizados pelos militares indonésios (McWilliam 2005, 27; CAVR 2005, 86-87). Memória e catarse social Os murais e graffiti fazem parte da paisagem das cidades e vilas de Timor-Leste. Alguns representam memórias da violência da ocupação Indonésia, visíveis em pinturas onde predominam imagens de caveiras, demónios, anjos e figuras fantasmagóricas. As práticas tradicionais timorenses alicerçam-se numa relação forte com o passado, através das quais a memória, a comemoração e os rituais que celebram o passado e que honram os mortos constituem um caminho indispensável para alcançar a justiça e prosseguir com a vida social. Os murais representam, desta forma, um papel importante na memória e, simultaneamente, na catarse individual e social. Podemos estabelecer um paralelo entre a realidade timorense e a experiência da Irlanda do Norte, onde a memória de um passado violento e socialmente fragmentado é comemorada em pinturas murais. Depois de três décadas de conflito e do processo de paz, as paredes da cidade de Belfast ainda ostentam símbolos dos heróis e espaços de luta representativos dos dois lados do conflito. As tentativas do poder político para apagar estes símbolos dos murais, com o objectivo de ‘eliminar’ as memórias que dividem a sociedade têm sido objecto de crítica. Rolston (2010, 290, 304) defende que a comemoração do passado através de murais na Irlanda do Norte constrói pontes para o futuro e permite que a vivência presente seja mais suportável para a sociedade. Os murais são também um espaço para a expressão de ideias de identidade que resultam do processo de desenvolvimento de uma memória colectiva. Em Timor-Leste, os murais com representações de fantasmas e espíritos expressam assim valores fundamentais da identidade timorense: o respeito pelos antepassados e pelos heróis tombados na guerra e o sacrifício (susar) e o sofrimento (terus) do povo Timorense durante os anos da ocupação indonésia (Silva 2010, 67). Celebrar a identidade nacional O céu pintado com nuvens brancas serve de cenário a uma figura feminina ostentando um olho no centro da cara e composta por diversos objectos que simbolizam a cultura tradicional timorense, considerados lulik (sagrados) porque são heranças do tempo ancestral. A uma lulik (casa sagrada) ocupa a base, representando a estrutura da sociedade, o centro da espiritualidade timorense que homenageia antepassados. O corpo feminino é atravessado por um surik (a espada dos guerreiros timorenses). Ela usa um o tradicional belak (disco metálico ao peito, representação do sol), um kaibauk (em forma de lua crescente, símbolo do poder) e manu fulun (penas de galo) que ornamentam a sua cabeça. Estes últimos são usados (mais frequentemente) pelos homens nas cerimónias tradicionais, o que sugere que esta figura não represente estritamente uma mulher mas, mais provavelmente, a ideia de terra-mãe. É importante referir que na cosmologia timorense o reino de Wehali,5 uma sociedade matriarcal, é considerado o centro e a origem de todos os outros reinos timorenses a quem estes prestam tributo material e protecção. Na tradição oral timorense a terra de origem (designada ‘a terra do cordão umbilical’) que domina sobre os reinos periféricos masculinos é feminina (Johnston 2007, 6). Este mural celebra a identidade cultural e os rituais tradicionais timorenses. A ‘arte de rua’ de TimorLeste comemora, igualmente, a independência alcançada e a resistência contra o invasor. A luta contra o colonialismo (funu) constitui um dos elementos onde se alicerça a nação e que une todos os Timorenses, independentemente do seu grupo étnico e afiliação política (Leach 2008, 145). Os membros mais jovens da denominada geração foun,6 a geração que nasceu durante o período indonésio e que tem agora cerca de 25-35 anos, procuram o reconhecimento do seu papel no movimento de resistência (Bexley 2007b, 70-71). Os murais constituem um espaço público para a afirmação do seu papel na narrativa da luta pela independência da qual têm sido marginalizados. 5 Actualmente, este território corresponde a aldeias situadas no lado de Timor-Leste e Timor Ocidental. Durante o período colonial, o reino foi espartilhado e, por isso, o seu domínio geográfico foi reduzido (Johnston 2007, 6). 6 Esta expressão significa nova geração. 75 Angie Bexley (2007a) demonstra no seu estudo que a expressão artística é especialmente útil para a compreensão dos dilemas identitários vividos pelos jovens timorenses no período pós-colonial. Meios de expressão não-verbal como a música, o teatro e a performance permitem capturar ‘sentimentos de pertença’ que se manifestam através da expressão corporal e emocional. O carácter sensorial das artes visuais abre espaço para exprimir as vivências do colonialismo e pós-colonialismo, bem como para um diálogo permanente sobre percepções culturais e dinâmicas identitárias (Bexley 2007a, 288-89). Figura 1 – Mural em Díli Fotografia: Pedro Damião, 2003 A geração jovem expressa o seu orgulho nacionalista e sentido de nação através da pintura de murais com símbolos da resistência e as imagens dos seus líderes. Os artistas fazem uso da iconografia revolucionária, usando as imagens de Che Guevara (1928-67) e de Bob Marley (1945-81). Alguns dos guerrilheiros das FALINTIL,7 como Xanana Gusmão e Konis Santana (1957-1998), que são modelos de inspiração para os jovens, são representados com o aspecto dos ícones revolucionários globais.8 Os membros das FALINTIL adoptaram estilos visuais e usavam roupas e adereços semelhantes aos dos ícones. Por exemplo, os guerrilheiros nas montanhas adoptaram um estilo de cabelo rastafári, dando origem à popularidade da imagem de Bob Marley e da música reggae junto da resistência clandestina urbana como símbolos da rebelião contra o poder militar indonésio (Myrttinen 2005,241). O aspecto visual de Konis Santana - o corte de cabelo, a barba e a boina que usava - é muito semelhante à aparência de Che Guevara.9 Para além disso, as incertezas que rodeiam as circunstâncias da morte de Konis contribuem para a sua ascensão a figura de culto em Timor-Leste (Mattoso 2005, 302). Muros de Oposição Política O graffiti como meio de resistência e protesto contra a autoridade legal, política e religiosa é característico das ‘culturas juvenis’ em diversos pontos do mundo. Exemplos conhecidos desta forma de resistência política existiram na ex-União Soviética, Alemanha, Irlanda do Norte, Nicarágua, Palestina, México e EUA (Ferrell 1995, 77). 7 Forças Armadas da Libertação Nacional de Timor-Leste. O acrónimo FALINTIL designa a resistência armada timorense no período da ocupação indonésia. 8 Cf. Parkinson 2010, 27, 72. 9 As semelhanças entre os dois são visíveis quando olhamos para a fotografia na capa do livro de José Mattoso (2005), com a biografia de Konis Santana. 76 Ao contrário da maioria dos países, o espaço público físico do país não foi, na sua maior parte, privatizado e o controlo policial dos artistas de graffiti não é uma prioridade num país pós-conflito como é Timor-Leste. Por isso, o ‘espírito das artes de rua’ que se caracteriza pela evasão do controlo social e espacial e pela resistência urbana às forças policiais por todo o mundo (Ferrell 1995, 79), não é característico da realidade timorense. Ao invés de fugir da polícia, durante a crise política de 2006 os artistas de graffiti timorenses fugiam ‘deles próprios’, outros jovens timorenses que estavam envolvidos na violência. O país parecia dividido devido a uma disputa, alegadamente de raiz étnica, entre Este e Oeste (Loromonu vs. Lorosa’e). De acordo com as palavras de um artista de graffiti, Alfeo Sanches: No meio da crise em 2006 tive medo [...] Se pintasse ‘não há Leste nem Oeste’, a seguir alguém do Este ou Oeste aparecia para controlar os nossos movimentos. Tínhamos receio de pintar estas palavras, no entanto sentíamos vontade de passar a força dessa mensagem [...] por isso, perdíamos o medo e pintávamos. Apesar disso, o sentimento de todos era de medo (Parkinson 2010, 124, tradução da autora). Os murais e graffiti reflectiam as contradições da nação, misturando paredes escritas com acusações e frases de indignação de uma juventude que se sentia marginalizada com graffiti que apelava à paz e unidade nacional pintados por artistas como Alfeo Sanchez. No centro urbano de Díli a geração jovem mostrava-se descontente com o alheamento da liderança política em relação às suas dificuldades relacionadas com a escolha da Língua Portuguesa como língua oficial10 e com a falta de oportunidades de formação e de emprego (Wigglesworth 2010, 62-63). Um número significativo de jovens, do sexo masculino, envolveu-se num projecto de ‘identidade violenta’ que se traduzia na afiliação a grupos de artes marciais (Trindade 2008,18; Scambary 2009) Figura 2 – ‘Timor é um só’ Fotografia: Vanda Narciso, 2009 Durante a crise de 2006 as paredes de Timor-Leste ‘gritaram’ palavras de frustração contra os líderes políticos do país. Em Março de 2006 as forças armadas timorenses (F-FDTL), com o apoio do Governo, destituíram 595 soldados (um terço da F-FDTL). Estes soldados eram da parte ocidental e protestavam contra a discriminação face aos soldados da parte oriental no que diz respeito a promoções e condições de alojamento. O conflito durou vários meses após o primeiro episódio da crise, sendo 10 Timor-Leste é um país multilíngue, onde a Língua Tétum (língua oficial a par do Português) e outras 19 línguas nacionais coexistem. A Língua Indonésia e o Inglês são definidos como línguas de trabalho pela Constituição timorense. 77 multiplicado por gangs e grupos de artes marciais que ameaçavam as comunidades e queimavam as casas do ‘outro’ grupo geográfico.11 O rebelde Alfredo Reinado,12 uma figura polémica que desafiou o poder governamental, tornou-se um herói dos jovens descontentes, em particular aqueles que eram dos distritos da parte oeste (‘Loromonu’). O seu nome e imagem eram uma constante nas paredes de Díli entre 2006 e 2008.13 Em Timor-Leste, os murais são, para a geração jovem, um lugar de contestação política, mas também de expressão e diálogo sobre ideias de identidade e cultura, justiça e reconciliação, seguindo uma tradição global do muralismo como forma de protesto sociopolítico. A tradição da arte mural com significado político tornou-se famosa por intermédio do trabalho dos artistas mexicanos Diego Rivera e David Siqueiros nos anos 30 (Schrank 2010). Figura 3 – ‘Nós, os deslocados, queremos paz e J…Unidade’. Atrás deste muro existia um campo deslocados entre 2006-2008 Fotografia: Manuel Ribeiro, 2011 A voz dos jovens no espaço público Giroux (2003, 554) argumenta que o espaço público acessível aos jovens nos E.U.A. se tem reduzido e que essa tendência tem um impacto negativo nos seus direitos civis e democráticos. No período póscolonial os jovens timorenses têm vivido experiências semelhantes. A geração jovem sente que não existe espaço para a sua voz e participação nas esferas públicas privilegiadas (instituições de estado e as organizações internacionais presentes no território). Por outro lado, a geração mais velha, que nasceu antes de 1975, tem criticado a geração jovem acusando-a de ter uma atitude superficial face à vida e atribuindo-lhe a responsabilidade pela violência que ocorreu em 2006 (Bexley 2007b, 72). Passada a experiência do colonialismo e da ausência de direitos sociais e políticos, a autodeterminação do país não proporcionou ainda à geração mais jovem a possibilidade de beneficiar de direitos como a educação, o emprego e a participação política. Na sequência da crise política de 2006, o estado timorense e as organizações de cooperação, reorientaram parte dos seus programas para realizar projectos de apoio ao emprego e inclusão da geração mais jovem. O presidente José Ramos-Horta e diversas ONGs têm vindo a comissionar 11 Cf. Trindade e Castro (2008, 10-17) para uma análise detalhada do contexto histórico e das raízes políticas da crise. 12 Em 2006 Alfredo Reinado liderou os peticionários, a par da juventude desempregada, nas manifestações contra a decisão do governo de demitir os soldados queixosos das forças armadas, dando origem a uma espiral de violência em Díli que obrigou 100.000 timorenses a viver em campos de desalojados e forçou o governo a demitir-se. 13 Cf. Parkinson 2010, 125-131. 78 projectos de murais e graffiti em vários locais de Timor-Leste, reconhecendo que este é um dos meios de comunicação mais democráticos e acessíveis do país (Beck 2010). Em 2006, o presidente convidou um grupo de jovens artistas da ‘Arte Moris’, uma escola de artes em Díli, para pintar murais nas paredes da cidade que comunicassem ideias de paz e de unidade nacional. De novo, em 2009, foram encomendados a jovens artistas murais sobre o tema da realização da primeira volta a Timor em bicicleta. A iniciativa, que se integrou no programa do gabinete presidencial ‘Díli, cidade da paz’, preencheu as paredes das cidades de Díli e de Baucau com murais alusivos a temas de paz e promessas de desenvolvimento. Estes exemplos sugerem que existe uma tentativa do estado timorense de controlar as mensagens transmitidas num espaço tradicionalmente considerado um ‘espaço de contestação’. Apesar disso, pode argumentar-se que o presidente ‘ouve as vozes’ da geração mais jovem e reconhece a sua importância. Em Timor-Leste, o diálogo entre gerações é essencial para a transmissão de valores identitários e éticos e para a coesão social do país. Figura 4 – ‘Adeus conflito, bem-vindo desenvolvimento’ Fotografia: Vanda Narciso, 2009 Visualizar ideias de direitos humanos A história de Timor-Leste é uma narrativa sobre a vitória do discurso dos direitos humanos no que diz respeito ao direito à autodeterminação dos povos, aos direitos da liberdade de expressão e pensamento e, por fim, à integridade dos valores culturais e identidades étnicas. Os anos da independência trouxeram a garantia dos direitos democráticos, o reconhecimento da identidade cultural timorense e a possibilidade de acesso a direitos civis e políticos. Tudo isto tinha sido negado pelos governos coloniais ao longo da história do país. No entanto, a geração mais jovem tem assistido ao paradoxo entre o discurso dominante de direitos humanos e a prevalência de práticas socialmente injustas durante a experiência pós-colonial de Timor-Leste (violência política, um sistema ineficiente de justiça e de segurança pública, um acesso desigual aos direitos económicos e de emprego), o que representa um desafio para o estabelecimento de uma cultura baseada nos direitos humanos no país. Para além disso, a introdução rápida de normas de tradição ocidental sem que tenha existido uma interacção com os valores e cultura timorenses leva os cidadãos a entender a democracia e os direitos humanos como uma imposição das elites políticas urbanas e dos actores externos (Brown and Gusmão 2010, 64-65). Qual a razão para a arte mural e de graffiti ter sido abraçada pelos jovens timorenses como um meio de comunicação de sentimentos tão antagónicos (sofrimento, frustração, orgulho, sentimento de pertença e esperança) no período pós-independência? 79 Figura 5 – ‘Sofrimento’. Mural na escola Arte Moris, Díli Fotografia: Manuel Ribeiro, 2011 Ferrell (1995, 87) argumenta que as ‘artes de rua’ proporcionam um espaço alternativo para uma ‘resistência juvenil, demasiadas vezes subalternizada e rotulada de irreflectida e destrutiva’, onde novas realidades sociais são projectadas. A imaginação de uma nova sociedade projectada nas paredes deste jovem país é provavelmente a mensagem mais forte que pode ser visualizada. No mundo contemporâneo esta é a ideia mais aproximada do conceito de direitos humanos, a nossa visão ética de um futuro desejado: O tema [direitos humanos] engloba muitas visões éticas de um futuro com base na dignidade humana: de justiça global, igualdade e não-discriminação; de empoderamento individual e colectivo; de garantia das necessidades básicas humanas e de segurança num contexto de guerra, degradação ambiental, fome e pobreza. [...] o activismo trouxe estes princípios para a intersecção do conflito de interesses entre a comunidade, o estado e o poder global. (Quataert 2009, xi-xii, tradução da autora) As ‘artes de rua’ timorenses dão continuidade ao combate pela dignidade humana, seja através da invocação dos fantasmas do passado ou da revolta contra as injustiças do presente, seja através da proclamação da vitória do direito do povo à autodeterminação ou do protesto contra a discriminação e pobreza que permanecem no seio da sociedade timorense. Bibliografia Beck, Maris 2010, ‘For Timor artists the brush is mightier than the sword’, The Age, 9 de Maio. Bexley, Angie 2007a, ‘Seeing, Hearing, and Feeling Belonging. The Case of East Timorese Youth’, The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 8(4): 287-295. --- 2007b, ‘The Geração Foun, Talitakum and Indonesia: media and memory politics in Timor-Leste’, Review of Indonesian and Malaysian Affairs, 41(1): 71-90. Brown, M. Anne and Gusmão, Alex 2010, ‘Peacebuilding and Political Hybridity in East Timor’. Peace Review, 21(1): 61-69. Comissão de Acolhimento, Verdade e Reconciliação (CAVR) 2005, ‘A história do conflito’ in Chega! O Relatório da Comissão de Acolhimento, Verdade e Reconciliação de Timor-Leste, CAVR, Dili, TimorLeste. Ferrell, Jeff 1995, ‘Urban Graffiti: Crime, Control and Resistance’, Youth Society, 27(1): 73-92. Giroux, Henry 2003, ‘Racial intolerance and disposable youth in the age of zero tolerance’, Qualitative studies in education, 16(4): 553-565. Infopédia [online] 2003-2011, FRETILIN (Frente Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente). 80 Porto Editora, Porto, http://www.infopedia.pt/$fretilin-(frente-revolucionaria-de-timor, acedido em 1511-2011. Johnston, Melissa 2007, ‘Wehali, the Female Land: Traditions of a Timorese Ritual Centre’, Intersections : Gender, History and Culture in the Asian Context, 15: 6. Kent, Lia 2010, Justica Seidauk Mai (Justice is yet to come): Rethinking the dynamics of transitional justice in East Timor, Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Melbourne. --- 2011, ‘Local memory practices in East Timor: disrupting transitional justice narratives’, The International Journal of Transitional Justice, pp. 1-22, publicado online em 2 de Setembro, http://ijtj.oxfordjournals.org/, acedido em 15-11-2011. Leach, Michael 2008, ‘Difficult memories: The independence struggle as cultural heritage in East Timor', in Logan, W. and K. Reeves (eds), Places of Pain and Shame: Dealing with 'Difficult Heritage, Routledge, London, pp. 144-161. Mattoso, José 2005, A Dignidade. Konis Santana e a Resistência Timorense. Temas e Debates, Lisboa, Portugal. McWilliam, Andrew 2005, ‘Houses of Resistance in East Timor: Structuring Sociality in the New Nation’, Anthropological Forum, 15 (1): 27-44. Myrttinen, Henri 2005, 'Masculinities, Violence and Power in Timor-Leste', Revue Lusotopie, 12(1-2): 233-244. Parkinson, Chris 2010, Peace of wall: street art from East Timor, Affirm Press, Mulgrave, Vic, Australia. Quataert, Jean 2009, Advocating Dignity: Human Rights Mobilizations in Global Politics, Pennsylvania University Press, Philadelphia, USA. Rolston, Bill 2010, ‘Trying to reach the future through the past. Murals and memory in Northern Ireland’, Crime, Media, Culture, 6: 285-307. Scambary, James 2009, ‘Trapped in the legacy of the past’. Inside Indonesia, 96 (Apr-Jun). Schrank, Sarah 2010, ‘Public art at the global crossroads: the politics of place in 1930s Los Angeles’, Journal of Social History, 44(2): 435-457. Silva, Kelly 2010, ‘Reciprocidade, reconhecimento e sofrimento: Mobilizadores políticos no Timor-Leste independente’, in Leach, M., N. Mendes, A. Da Silva, A. Ximenes, and Bob Boughton (eds), Hatene konaba/Compreender/Understanding/Mengerti Timor-Leste, Swinburne Press, Hawthorn, Australia, pp. 66-72. Trindade, Josh & Castro, Bryant 2007, ‘Rethinking Timorese Identity as a Peacebuilding Strategy: The Lorosa’e – Loromonu Conflict from a Traditional Perspective’, Report: Technical Assistance to the National Dialogue Process in Timor-Leste, GTZ and European Union, Díli, Timor-Leste. Trindade, Josh 2008, ‘An Ideal State for East Timor: Reconciling the conflicting Paradigms’. A paper presented at the Conference ‘Democratic Governance in Timor-Leste – Reconciling the Local and the National’. Charles Darwin University, 7-8 de Fevereiro. Wigglesworth, Ann 2007, ‘Young people in rural development’, in Kingsbury, Damien and Michael Leach (eds), East Timor beyond independence. Victoria, Australia: Monash University Press, pp. 51-63. 81 11 Despontar do romance em Timor-Leste Isabel Moutinho1 O facto de Timor-Leste ter uma história particularmente trágica certamente contribuiu para o lento germinar da sua literatura escrita. Séculos de colonização portuguesa trouxeram o catolicismo, e pouco mais do que abandono, escasso desenvolvimento e um sistema de educação insuficiente e discriminatório. Seguiu-se um breve período de descolonização e escalada de tensões políticas entre os Timorenses. A súbita invasão pelas forças armadas indonésias, assim como as várias explosões de quase guerra civil entre Timorenses de diferentes convicções politicas, em 1975, 1996 e 2006, igualmente concorreram para demorar o aparecimento da literatura escrita. Por fim, a nível cultural, a imposição da cultura indonésia a uma população acostumada a uma vivência timorense-portuguesa produziu um efeito que muitos estranharam: que os Timorenses da geração da resistência escolhessem a língua portuguesa como veículo das primeiras manifestações da sua prosa literária. Num país em que ‘a literatura vernácula é toda oral’ (Thomaz 1994, 601) e com uma longa tradição de contos populares, em prosa e em verso, sendo estes frequentemente cantados, não surpreende que as primeiras manifestações de literatura escrita viessem a ser, pela maior familiaridade com a musicalidade, em poesia. Contudo, a prosa literária despontou em 1997, com Luís Cardoso. Um ano depois, apareceu Andanças de um Timorense, de Ponte Pedrinha. O facto de Luís Cardoso continuar a escrever romances de extraordinária qualidade literária, e de outro romancista, Domingos de Sousa, ter publicado, em 2007, Colibere: Um Herói Timorense, só pode ser de bom augúrio, permitindo-nos falar do despertar do género romanesco em Timor-Leste. Luís Cardoso nasceu em Cailaco (Bobonaro), e pertence à geração de Timorenses que foram para Lisboa fazer estudos universitários (no seu caso, silvicultura). Tendo começado a escrever crónicas numa revista de estudantes, revelou-se como contador de histórias e recitador de poesia, chegando a formar um grupo que cantava poemas musicados (Esperança 2005a, 23). Mas o traço decisivo para o desenrolar da sua carreira posterior é ter-se dedicado também a escrever contos. Tal como costuma acontecer entre escritores de países anteriormente colonizados, o primeiro livro de Luís Cardoso, Crónica de Uma Travessia: A Época do Ai Dik-Funam (1997), não é primordialmente de ficção. Narra a vida do pai do narrador, com abundantes recordações do Timor colonial, combinando assim os registos autobiográfico e memorialista. Através da história do pai, um enfermeiro timorense aculturado, o leitor segue também a deslocação do filho (o narrador em primeira pessoa) para Portugal. A figura do pai, que acredita firmemente dever ‘morrer à sombra da bandeira (portuguesa)’ (12), retrata com força a dualidade cultural dessa geração educada no respeito ao colonizador europeu, sem jamais abandonar as crenças tradicionais timorenses, tais como a veneração de objectos sagrados (lúlik). Quanto à travessia do título, trata-se, portanto, tanto da viagem física rumo à diáspora em Portugal, como da viagem metafórica, da identidade em devir, narrada já com procedimentos inconfundivelmente literários. Para o filho, a travessia mais dolorosa é a que conduz da alienação colonial ao umbral de uma identidade transformada, para a qual vai avançando, até se libertar do lastro da autoridade do pai amado. Em Portugal, este espera recuperar a memória perdida ‘num acidente vascular’ (140). Será desnecessário sublinhar que se trata também, simbolicamente, da perda da memória colonial – num gradual processo de amnésia e recordação que Homi Bhabha (1994, 63) descreve como um ‘desmembrar’ e ‘re-lembrar’ do passado colonial, indispensável à afirmação do novo ser pós-colonial. Em Lisboa, o narrador sente-se dividido entre o ideal defendido pelo pai e os seus próprios sentimentos de desenraizamento num país cuja geografia e história aprendera de cor e só nos livros. Para ele, a emancipação cultural é mais difícil do que para os exilados timorenses mais politizados. Mas, com a suave ironia que os romances posteriores confirmariam como distintiva do estilo de Cardoso, o narrador consegue abalançar-se no labirinto da autocrítica cultural (‘pelo [s]eu passado 1 School of Historical and European Studies, La Trobe University, Melbourne, Austrália. 82 burguês, decadente e com prática contra-revolucionária’, 133), que felizmente não considera penosa, graças ao hábito da confissão católica no seminário jesuíta timorense. Crónica de Uma Travessia apresenta ainda uma série de retratos docemente humorísticos de homens que são hoje figuras eminentes de Timor-Leste: Abílio Araújo, Mário Carrascalão e os filhos, José Ramos-Horta, Mari Alkatiri (83-85), Nicolau Lobato (101), Xanana Gusmão (146). Quanto ao narrador, apesar da sua ‘permanente disponibilidade para a autocrítica’ (92), em breve reconhece que ‘a [sua] corrida era outra’ (71)–óptima decisão que inauguraria a literatura timorense. Publicado em 2001, o segundo livro de Luís Cardoso, Olhos de Coruja Olhos de Gato Bravo, é um romance que nos imerge numa cultura inquietantemente estranha para o público ocidental. Nele sobressaem as crenças tradicionais timorenses, numa coexistência quotidiana do real e do sobrenatural: a importância simbólica dos rituais das parteiras (semelhantes às Parcas), o rain-fila (partidas que a terra prega aos intrusos) –já mencionado em Crónica, o rain-nain (o espírito da terra), a existência de sítios sagrados onde os espíritos vagueiam em liberdade. Lê-se também acerca dos costumes ancestrais que orientam a vida timorense: o casamento como aliança entre famílias, os dotes pagos em búfalos, as rivalidades entre régulos e liurais, o hábito da masca, as lutas de galo para diversão e como fonte de ingressos, etc. Embora a protagonista de Olhos de Coruja afirme que só se casaria com ‘um malaemutin’ (um estrangeiro), por ter crescido ‘na metrópole, [... onde] usava roupa ocidental [...], só falava a língua portuguesa, [...], não sabia mascar nem dançar o tebe’ (149), nesse momento já o romance nos mergulhou nas águas profundas da cultura tradicional timorense, que ironicamente a protagonista afirma desconhecer. Olhos de Coruja situa-se firmemente no universo da ficção, partindo de um engenhoso golpe de realismo mágico (ou um mero entretecer muito timorense de realidade e fantasia), que se transforma em plena alegoria. A narradora é uma menina cujo pai se sente ameaçado pelo tamanho dos olhos dela. O Padre Santa, alter ego do pai, venda-lhos quando a baptiza (116), condicionando-lhe assim a capacidade de apreensão do mundo. A personagem do pai, um catequista católico timorense de origem chinesa, constrói-se por oposições binárias, reflectindo a hibridez que a chegada do colonialismo português desencadeia em Timor: animismo e cristianismo, as lendas tradicionais e a Bíblia, as línguas locais e a portuguesa. Mas o humor na descrição das personagens e a graça na narração de situações extraordinárias nunca impedem o leitor de entender a crítica da distorção que a longa convivência com a cultura estrangeira impôs à cosmovisão autóctone. No fim a narradora ousa arrancar a venda dos olhos, afirmando: ‘Não consegui ver nada. Foram muitos anos de sombra’ (159) – a sombra do colonialismo português que escureceu os céus timorenses. O título do terceiro livro de Luís Cardoso, A Última Morte do Coronel Santiago, de 2003, parece anunciar a resolução de qualquer ambivalência quanto à figura paterna dominante, que aqui começa (talvez?) a descansar em paz.2 A figura paterna que aparece primeiramente no pai biológico de Crónica de Uma Travessia, dividindo-se depois na dupla pai catequista/padre que venda os olhos em Olhos de Coruja, reaparece agora neste Coronel Pedro Santiago, que se crê armado cavaleiro na cidade emblematicamente católica de Santiago de Compostela. De novo, o protagonista tem um alter ego, Pedro Raimundo, a sombra do Coronel, que, desejando corrigir os erros da História, assassinará Santiago. Também aqui se reconhece a profunda influência do catolicismo na sociedade timorense, na escolha humorística de nomes de apóstolos, dois Pedros e um Lucas. Este, filho do Coronel, é escritor, vive em Portugal e está apaixonado por uma mulher com ‘olhos de coruja ou de gata’ (49). Denunciado por ter escrito Crónicas do Sexta-Feira (o Sexta-Feira de Daniel Defoe), com um protagonista reaccionário em vez dum herói timorense, Lucas viaja a Timor, onde o passado ajusta contas com ele. E de novo as lendas e mitos timorenses se entretecem na ficção do romance, alternando com uma divertida auto-referencialidade e ecos intertextuais de literaturas europeias e latino-americanas. Pelas suas fantasias imperiais, o Coronel apresenta-se como uma figura definitivamente do passado. Embora seja assassinado no romance, deixa-nos a impressão de ter talvez simplesmente chegado ao fim da vida natural. Em termos literários, as escolhas do autor não podiam ser mais claras: o romance respira confiança, ironia, graça intertextual, num diálogo tanto crítico como terapêutico com a 2 Este título parece aludir à Crónica de una muerte anunciada de Gabriel García Márquez, cujo protagonista também se chama Santiago. Contudo, Timor colonial tinha os seus próprios coronéis, título concedido pelas autoridades portuguesas a alguns chefes locais, no intuito de mantê-los do seu lado. 83 história imperial portuguesa e o património cristão da Europa, oferecendo uma visão pluralista e geograficamente descentrada de um mundo (tecnicamente) descolonizado. O romance mais recente de Luís Cardoso, Requiem para o Navegador Solitário, de 2007, tem, como Olhos de Coruja, uma narradora feminina. Catarina é uma jovem chinesa de Batávia (hoje Jakarta), filha de um rico comerciante chinês continental, que está noiva do capitão do porto de Díli, para pôr o selo na associação comercial entre o pai e o noivo. Dona da excelente ‘educação europeia’ (12) habitual nas famílias chinesas ricas, Catarina chega a Díli nas vésperas da invasão japonesa de Timor, levando consigo um livro favorito: a narrativa da circum-navegação de Alain Gerbault – escolha de mau agouro, porque, na vida real, Gerbault morreria no porto de Díli em 1941, imediatamente antes da invasão japonesa. A Díli que Luís Cardoso descreve em Requiem é ponto de encontro de várias nacionalidades: um Goês, um Indiano de Bengala, um ‘aventureiro de Ceilão’ (24), um algarvio, muitos exilados políticos, inclusive de Angola e Moçambique, ‘à espera de uma amnistia ou de uma revolução para regressar a casa’ (26) – como corresponde à consabida realidade histórica de Timor. Porém, duas novas potências estrangeiras estão prestes a chegar à ilha. Embora Timor oriental, como território à época português, fosse oficialmente neutro, a ilha será arrastada para a guerra, obrigando o governador a fazer concessões tanto aos Japoneses como aos Australianos, ‘para agradar a uns e a outros, a Deus e ao diabo, o que para os nativos era tudo a mesma coisa. Levavam porrada de qualquer maneira’ (152). Como a trama incide nas escolhas pessoais, lutas e amores de Catarina, o livro não focaliza a invasão japonesa de Timor. Mesmo assim, Requiem evoca muito vividamente o período histórico em que Timor entraria pela primeira vez na História do século XX: Marginal face ao império Português, tornou-se central no seu epílogo; marginal para a Austrália, tornou-se central, quer ao nível interno, quer externamente, pela posição estratégia adquirida na região (Seixas 2006, 42). Um ano após a estreia de Luís Cardoso, publicou-se outro romance timorense: Andanças de Um Timorense, de Ponte Pedrinha (pseudónimo).3 Nele revela-se sobretudo uma escolha cristã para toda a vida. O romance ganha força pelo tom de extraordinária sinceridade da voz narradora, infelizmente não escorada numa rigorosa técnica literária. A estrutura do livro é problemática, com uma longa narrativa inicial, não muito bem integrada, cuja função parece ser assinalar o momento preciso em que o seu autor se torna escritor, bem como dar a conhecer as suas motivações psicológicas. Quando principia o romance propriamente dito, compreende-se que o narrador foi separado dos pais na infância, um dos muitos infortúnios que atormentariam a vida da família, por se terem os pais negado a cumprir uma tradição ancestral de Ataúro (Esperança 2005b, 134). Mandado para a Austrália pelos pais, para salvarse das atrocidades indonésias, o protagonista recebeu nesse país uma educação muito religiosa. Já adulto, ama intensamente uma mulher, mas opta por deixá-la para dedicar-se inteiramente à vocação religiosa, tornando-se missionário. O romance sublinha a importância do catolicismo, religião que apesar de estrangeira se tornou num rasgo definidor da identidade timorense. A insistência do narrador em que se lhe chame apenas ‘um Timorense sem cidade’ (7, 87, 88, etc.) aponta para um retrato colectivo do povo timorense. Podese, portanto, ler o romance como alegoria da cristianização de Timor. Graças ao trabalho dos missionários cristãos do século XVI (Thomaz 1994, 597-600) e à obrigação, no século XX, de escolher uma das cinco religiões reconhecidas no Pancasila indonésio (Hicks 2011, 120), o catolicismo enraizouse inabalavelmente no coração dos Timorenses. O trecho em que até o Mata-blolo (padre animista de Ataúro) aceita o baptismo católico (53) parece confirmar a justeza desta interpretação. Contudo, a partida do narrador para África como missionário e a sua desaparição numa guerra civil africana cria ambiguidades difíceis de destrinçar para o leitor. Haverá uma alusão à guerra civil que se preparava em Timor? Neste caso, seria mais fácil entender o sentido do romance se houvesse referências explícitas. O aspecto mais positivo é afinal a descrição pormenorizada de rituais e práticas ancestrais de Timor-Leste, que permitem ao leitor entrar num mundo geralmente inacessível. Finalmente, outro romance do mesmo ano que o último de Luís Cardoso (2007) merece especial atenção: Colibere: Um Herói Timorense, de Domingos de Sousa. O autor nasceu em Laleia 3 Respeitando a decisão do autor, não se revela aqui o seu verdadeiro nome. Basta esclarecer que se trata de um Timorense residente em Portugal. 84 (Manatuto) e estudou no seminário de Évora e numa instituição jesuíta de Yogyakarta, obtendo depois um mestrado em Educação nos Estados Unidos. Actualmente desempenha as funções de diplomata do seu país, mas este romance, com o seu intuito evidente de deixar registo da História contemporânea de Timor-Leste, dá testemunho indubitável do interesse do autor pela educação. Colibere começa nos últimos anos do colonialismo português, numa aldeia de Manatuto, com condições de vida deploráveis: miséria, ‘atraso de séculos’ (15), subordinação da mulher em situação de quase escravatura e uma visão fatalista do mundo (9) que impossibilita qualquer esperança. O romance inicia-se com os preparativos dum casamento combinado, à maneira timorense, com o devido barlaqui (16-17). O segundo capítulo é sobremaneira discursivo, com extensas citações de estudos sobre costumes timorenses. Apesar da fascinante aprendizagem cultural que proporciona, não deixa no entanto de se tornar pesado, pois pertenceria melhor à antropologia do que à ficção. Contudo, com o nascimento de Colibere, o filho do casal, o romance começa a seguir a vida da jovem família, adquirindo ritmo e mérito literário. No romance de Domingos de Sousa, vemos as reacções dos Timorenses à revolução democrática em Portugal, o seu ressentimento pelo abandono das autoridades portuguesas face à invasão indonésia e às atrocidades consequentes. Em breve, o pai de Colibere é assassinado e Colibere, preso por participar na resistência. Juntamente com a mãe, este ‘herói timorense’ será deportado para a ilha de Ataúro, onde ambos padecem fome, humilhação e tortura, acabando ele por mergulhar na loucura. Psicologicamente destroçado, Colibere vive em abjecção sub-humana. O romance evoca momentos traumáticos da resistência contra a cruel ocupação indonésia; não esconde o conflito fratricida entre diferentes facções timorenses; e termina recordando o entusiástico apoio popular ao Conselho Nacional da Resistência Timorense e o renascer da esperança após o referendo de 1999, momentos delirantes que Colibere presencia com incredulidade, quase sem entender o seu significado. Embora o livro tenha trechos excessivamente discursivos e didácticos, trata-se dum primeiro romance a muitos títulos notável. Domingos de Sousa retrata com garra as convulsões da vida timorense nos finais do século XX. São particularmente impressionantes as páginas dedicadas à voz colectiva das mulheres timorenses, cuja contribuição à resistência do país é muitas vezes esquecida. Pela urgência em registar a história dos heróis e heroínas timorenses anónimos, Colibere aproxima-se do texto de testemunho, que John Beverley (2004, 73) define como forma de ‘arte e estratégia da memória subalterna’.4 Mas há nele muitas páginas que recordam as circunstâncias que fizeram dos Timorenses vítimas da História, em vez de afirmar orgulho na sua agência histórica, como é próprio do testimonio. Embora defenda um forte argumento político, Colibere nunca é agressivamente doutrinário, como o roman à thèse, e parece portanto preferível vê-lo como romance didáctico. Oferece uma visão do mundo moralista, baseada na fé cristã, insistindo na necessidade de inculcar bons sentimentos na geração jovem. Recalca, além disso, a necessidade urgente de reconciliação numa sociedade que as vicissitudes históricas dividiram. Quanto à Indonésia, não se vê ainda a reconciliação como possibilidade imediata. Embora o narrador fale dos Indonésios como ‘irmãos’ de Colibere (206), o romance termina precisamente afirmando que falta ainda um pedido de desculpa oficial por parte da Indonésia quanto aos graves ‘erros’ históricos que cometeu em Timor-Leste, e que seria particularmente bem-vinda uma ‘palavra especial’ da Igreja Católica indonésia (‘esta igreja irmã’, 206), que preferiu ignorar o suplício do povo timorense. Assim, as palavras finais do romance são de reconciliação ecuménica.5 Em conclusão, apesar de a poesia ter sido a primeira manifestação literária escrita e continuar a ser o género preferido do grande número de poetas de Timor-Leste, é já possível discernir um embrião de prosa literária no jovem país. Os autores que aqui se analisam vivem por razões pessoais ou profissionais na diáspora, mas voltam frequentemente a Timor-Leste. E escrevem em língua portuguesa. Mas outros haverá que o façam também em Bahasa Indonesia (Melayu) e em breve se pode esperar que comecem a surgir romances em Tétum e outras línguas timorenses. O impulso já foi dado com o concurso que levou à publicação do primeiro livro de literatura juvenil em Tétum, Ha’u 4 Pela sua heterogeneidade estilística, Colibere convida à reflexão genológica, que infelizmente não cabe neste artigo. Desde Against Literature (1993), Beverley tem proposto várias definições de testimonio, Se aceitamos a sua definição deste como “above all a story that needs to be told, that involves some pressing and immediate problem of communication” (2004, 61), aproximamo-nos significativamente do livro de Domingos de Sousa. Contudo, não de trata duma narrativa na primeira pessoa, como é habitual no testimonio. 5 Compare-se com a decisão de Xanana Gusmão de perdoar as atrocidades indonésias. 85 Maka Lucas (Meu Nome É Lucas), de Teo Ximenes, em 2010, sobre a geração de crianças roubadas às famílias timorenses e levadas para adopção na Indonésia. Outro concurso literário (Istoria Timor: Kompetisaun Literatura Tetun), cuja convocatória acaba de terminar em Agosto de 2011, foi lançado por Timor Aid.6 Quanto aos romances em língua portuguesa aqui estudados, cada um apresenta a seu modo e em estilos muito diferentes uma meditação sobre a identidade cultural de Timor-Leste, sem perder a capacidade de cativar e deleitar com a arte dos contadores de histórias, que continua a ser a mais antiga tradição da cultura oral timorense. Por agora, o número destes romances é demasiado reduzido para permitir tirar conclusões de peso. Mas não há dúvida de que a qualidade excepcional da obra de Luís Cardoso, principalmente, e a promessa muito real do primeiro romance de Domingos de Sousa justificam já a esperança do desenvolvimento de uma literatura escrita robusta no jovem país, seja qual for a língua que os autores escolherem no futuro. Bibliografia Beverley, John 2004, Testimonio: On the Politics of Truth, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis/London. Bhabha, Homi 1994, The Location of Culture, Routledge, London. Cardoso, Luís 1997, Crónica de Uma Travessia. A Época do Ai-Dik-Funam, Publicações Dom Quixote, Lisboa. --- 2001, Olhos de Coruja Olhos de Gato Bravo, Publicações Dom Quixote, Lisboa. --- 2003, A Última Morte do Coronel Santiago, Publicações Dom Quixote, Lisboa. --- 2007, Requiem para o Navegador Solitário, Publicações Dom Quixote, Lisboa. Esperança, João Paulo T 2005a, O Que é a Lusofonia?/ Saída Maka Luzofonia, Instituto Camões, Díli. --- 2005b, ‘Um Brevíssimo Olhar sobre a Literatura de Timor’, Mealibra—Revista de Cultura série, 3(16): 131134, Centro Cultural do Alto Minho, Viana do Castelo. Hicks, David 2011, ‘Church Confronts State: The 2005 Manifestasaun in Timor-Leste’ in Lindquist, Galina and Don Handelman (eds), Religion, Politics, and Globalization: Anthropological Approaches, Berghahn Books, New York. 6 Agradeço esta e outras informações preciosas a Pat Walsh, principal conselheiro e mentor da CAVR, Comissão para o Acolhimento da Verdade e Reconciliação em Timor-Leste. 86 12 Riqueza ou preço da noiva? Regimes morais em disputa nas negociações de casamento entre elites urbanas timorenses Kelly Silva1 Discuto neste texto alguns dos regimes morais associados ao pagamento/transferência/prestação do preço/riqueza/valor da noiva (bridewealth) em Dili, no âmbito das práticas matrimoniais contemporâneas entre as elites do país. Analiso um conjunto de comportamentos e discursos associados ao barlake ou hafolin observados ao longo de cinco meses de trabalho de campo entre 2008 e 20092. A partir desse universo etnográfico, exploro controvérsias que revelam estratégias e projetos de pertencimento e identificação, atribuídos a diferentes espaços e aos grupos sociais que os habitam. Longe de ser uma imprecisão conceitual, a profusão de termos que utilizo para traduzir o barlake tem por intenção refletir os diversos significados a ele associados do ponto de vista nativo. Tais fenômenos são aqui situados como produto de processos históricos de longa duração, dos quais são partes fundamentais a dialética entre práticas indígenas características da Indonésia Oriental (Fox 1980; Errington 1990) e certas dimensões da colonização portuguesa e da missionação católica, de que são resultados a própria história social de Dili e a invenção da sociedade timorense pelos seus quadros de elite. Nesse empreendimento, impõe-se a questão do lugar a ser atribuído aos chamados “usos e costumes” associados às montanhas, dos quais o barlake ou hafolin (dar preço, dar valor, comprar mulher) é parte essencial. Casamentos em Dili entre 2008 e 2009. Uma perspectiva inicial Como não poderia deixar de ser, em uma cidade com aproximadamente 200 mil habitantes e uma complexa história de formação, os rituais de casamento são aí estruturados de diversas formas, relacionadas a dinâmicas de classe, origem étnica, adesão religiosa, trajetórias familiares, históricos educacionais etc.3 Discutirei abaixo eventos associados a casamentos oficializados, o que implica, no contexto de Dili, para a maioria das pessoas, sua realização na Igreja Católica, à qual cabe também o registro civil dos mesmos. Atualmente, os casamentos em Díli se estruturam por meio de um longo processo de negociação entre as famílias envolvidas, marcado por diferentes cerimônias: Hamós Dalan (limpar o caminho), e/ou Loke Dalan (abrir o caminho), e/ou Tuku Odamatan (Bater à porta), e Koñese Malu (Conhecer-se). Envolvem pais, tios, irmãos, primos e representantes da casa ritual de origem do/a noivo/a baseados em Díli ou vindos do interior exclusivamente para a ocasião, além dos porta-vozes (lia nain). Em geral, o porta-voz é um homem, membro da casa ritual do/a noivo/a, portador de reconhecido conhecimento de suas tradições (lisan) e hábil em negociações dessa natureza. Dependendo da intimidade entre as famílias e da dinâmica das negociações entre elas, realiza-se um número maior ou menor de cerimônias, as quais devem ser suficientes para definir os termos da execução do casamento. Nos casos observados durante a pesquisa, as relações entre as casas/famílias em interação para a realização do casamento eram assimétricas. A casa/família da noiva gozava de posição superior à família do noivo. São denominados umane todos os parentes ligados à casa doadora de mulheres. Por oposição, são denominados fetosaan todos os membros da casa tomadora de mulher. Entre as elites 1 Departamento de Antropologia, Universidade de Brasília, Brasil. É digno de nota que durante o trabalho de campo meus principais interlocutores foram homens, os quais se apresentam como depositários do conhecimento a respeito dos “usos e costumes”. 3 Algumas autoridades eclesiásticas com quem interagi ao longo da pesquisa denominaram as mulheres que coabitam com seus maridos mas não são casadas na Igreja Católica como barlakeadas. Isto não significa que de fato houve prestação/transferência/pagamento de barlake por essas mulheres. Trata-se antes de um termo pejorativo utilizado para qualificar as mulheres que vivem à margem das regras cristãs/católicas. 2 87 urbanas leste-timorenses contemporâneas, a escolha do parceiro para casamento é individual, ou seja, não se praticam uniões prescritas ou casamentos arranjados previamente pelos familiares. Para além da mulher, circulam entre as casas, entre outros, bens como búfalos, belak (disco de ouro ou prata), surik (espada), morteen (colar) bua malus (areca, betel e cal), cabritos, porcos, tais (tecido fabricado em tear local), arroz, bebidas, cigarro, moedas antigas e dinheiro, em direções e quantidades pré-determinadas, a depender do grupo etnolinguístico e da posição das casas rituais envolvidas em seus respectivos universos de pertença. O barlake/hafolin é uma sequência de tais bens, cuja composição varia e é negociada entre as casas/famílias em função do que são consideradas as tradições locais de seus ancestrais, as prestações realizadas pela mãe da noiva, a posição das famílias envolvidas na estrutura social contemporânea e, eventualmente, a condição da própria noiva: se ela é virgem ou não, se ela tem curso superior ou não, se ela tem bom emprego ou não etc. O tempo necessário para a conclusão da transferência do hafolin à família da noiva varia muito, podendo ser imediata ou concluir-se somente após a morte dos cônjuges. Entre outras implicações, a prestação do barlake pode quebrar o vínculo espiritual da mulher com sua casa ritual de origem. Tal possibilidade, contudo, é objeto de inúmeras negociações e está condicionada às implicações advindas do casamento tendo em vista a maneira como são experimentadas entre os grupos etnolinguísticos de origem dos noivos e as condições de reprodução social das casas rituais envolvidas. Práticas e discursos sobre o barlake Durante a pesquisa acompanhei as negociações que atravessaram a realização de dez casamentos, pelas quais constatei a inexistência de um consenso a respeito do que caracterize o barlake, de qual seja seu significado ou importância. Há, na verdade, disputas pelo seu significado, mediante as quais certos atores negociam sua posição no mundo. Trata-se de uma problemática controversa, desencadeadora não só de alianças, mas de disputas, rompimentos e ressentimentos. A negação do barlake Meu objetivo nesta seção é analisar alguns dos argumentos utilizados por atores que afirmam não praticar o hafolin. Nesse universo, a avaliação crítica do barlake como uma operação de venda da mulher é de grande destaque. Justifica-se a negação do barlake como estratégia para preservar o acesso às filhas casadas e garantir o direito individual das mesmas de ir e vir para junto de suas famílias de origem quando assim o quiserem. Sugere-se que a ausência do barlake garante a união da família nuclear e das casas/famílias em aliança em função do casamento. O pressuposto deste argumento é que a prestação do barlake quebra as relações entre os familiares (pais e filhas, particularmente), além de ser objeto de inúmeras controvérsias entre as casas/famílias envolvidas. Ademais, supõe-se que a abdicação do barlake evita a violência doméstica, na medida em que se pensa ser ela motivada também pelas pressões que recaem sobre o homem para selar seus compromissos com a família da esposa. O bem-querer entre os noivos e o respeito mútuo são frequentemente apresentados como mais importante para um bom casamento entre aqueles que não solicitam o barlake. Em tais discursos, o barlake aparece em oposição à ideologia do amor romântico. Outra crítica comum ao barlake está ancorada no pressuposto da incomensurabilidade entre homens e coisas. Sugere-se que a prática do barlake, considerada comum nas montanhas ou entre os antepassados daqueles que estão em Dili, se devia ao excessivo interesse material destes que, por não terem acesso à educação, não perceberiam que búfalos e objetos rituais, como belak ou surik, não se comparam ao valor do ser humano. Dentre outros, este é um discurso comum entre autoridades da Igreja Católica em Timor-Leste. Desta forma, à crítica ao barlake se soma a crítica ao que é tomado como uso irracional de bens e recursos, mais uma vez também atribuído às pessoas da montanha ou às pessoas sem educação em Dili. Vale notar aqui a emergência de um discurso entre quadros das elites locais que atribuem o que qualificam de pobreza da população do país aos grandes investimentos realizados em práticas rituais, os quais impediriam o acúmulo mínimo de riqueza necessária ao desenvolvimento. É interessante também observar que entre meus interlocutores era unânime a apreciação de que em Dili a realização dos casamentos estava sempre sujeita a negociações de várias ordens entre as 88 famílias, e que isto era muito positivo. Nas montanhas, ao contrário, seria necessário ofertar exatamente o que as pessoas pediam. Neste quadro, sugeria-se que o barlake mais caro de Timor estava em Lospalos (distrito localizado no extremo leste do país), onde se exigiam aproximadamente 77 búfalos para a realização dos casamentos, dependendo do status da casa ritual envolvida. Não por acaso, é também sobre os nativos de Lospalos que recaem as acusações de grande valentia e violência, beirando a selvageria, a quem a gente de Dili se opõe. Vemos, pois, que a prática e o modus operandi das negociações de casamento são objeto de elaboração simbólica a partir das quais se edificam representações coletivas a respeito das diferentes populações e dos espaços que compõem o país. Não obstante, tais críticas a respeito do barlake/hafolin convivem com a aceitação de outras práticas estruturadas pela circulação de bens e serviços, fundamentais na socialidade das pessoas em Dili. Assim, apesar de algumas casas/famílias se negarem a praticar o barlake, demandam da casa do noivo a prestação do que é chamado de aitukan/bee manas (literalmente lenha e água quente),4 na forma de um montante específico de dólares (entre 500 e 3 mil dólares, aproximadamente), como compensação pelo esforço do pai e da mãe na formação da filha. À diferença do barlake, o aitukan/bemanas não imporia nenhuma restrição à manutenção da relação da noiva com sua família/casa de origem. Confrontados com a questão das diferenças entre o barlake e o aitukan/bee manas, meus interlocutores apresentaram interpretações diversas. Alguns afirmavam que o aitukan/bee manas qualificava-se enquanto tal por ser direcionado exclusivamente aos pais biológicos da noiva, à diferença do barlake, que era distribuído entre seus tios, irmãos e primos. No entanto, testemunhei duas cerimônias de troca prendas – nas quais se entregou ritualmente à família da noiva parte dos bens solicitados para a realização do casamento – a circulação de montantes de dinheiro qualificados como aitukan/bee manas que seriam distribuídos entre os homens da casa da noiva, como tios e primos. Estamos diante de um universo complexo e ambíguo, no qual operam regimes morais múltiplos, apropriados estrategicamente pelos atores sociais. Proponho, assim, que tomemos o barlake e o aitukan-bemanas como distintas modalidades de prestação de aliança – nos moldes da diferenciação entre big e small price proposta por RenardClamagirand (1982) – as quais qualificam regimes específicos de direitos sobre pessoas e coisas envolvidos em trocas matrimoniais. Não é possível, assim, deduzir a natureza das prestações matrimoniais a partir dos bens que por ela circulam. O significado e as implicações das mesmas é construído ao longo do processo de negociação entre as famílias. Para as práticas nas quais o aitukan/bee manas fica exclusivamente nas mãos dos pais biológicos da noiva, ele pode ser abordado como uma transformação do preço/riqueza da noiva no contexto urbano, produto da valorização da família nuclear como principal unidade de reprodução social. Por hora, gostaria ainda de destacar que, no universo de minha pesquisa, dentre aqueles que enunciam variações dos discursos apresentados acima estavam, sobretudo, timorenses ligados ao movimento de mulheres, descendentes de mestiços e assimilados, cujos familiares próximos, como tios, pais etc., habitam Dili há pelo menos duas décadas. A negação do barlake opera, assim, como um sinal de distinção social entre certos grupos das elites do país que, desta forma, procuram aproximar-se dos projetos de modernidade ocidental por oposição ao que tomam como hábitos característicos da gente da montanha (ema foho). A positivação do barlake No universo de minha pesquisa, observei uma positivação do barlake entre o seguinte perfil de atores sociais: 1. homens; 2. pessoas mais velhas; 3. sujeitos migrados para Dili há menos de uma década; 4. aqueles que cultivam parte de seu status social em Dili em função da alta posição que suas casas de origem ocupam em hierarquias locais de organização social. 4 Os termos aitukan/bee manas são metáforas que expressam o esforço realizado pela família da noiva na sua formação e, mais uma vez, têm no universo das práticas das montanhas sua referência principal. A fim de dar à luz, as parturientes são confinadas no interior de suas casas e ao lado delas se acende uma fogueira para esquentar a água que será utilizada no parto. Após o parto, as mulheres ficam reclusas durante algumas semanas em casa, banhando-se sempre com água quente. Acredita-se que a água quente purifica o corpo da mulher, livrando-o das secreções e das impurezas decorrentes da gravidez. 89 Dentre os argumentos apresentados para justificar a reprodução de tal prática destaca-se aquele que a interpreta como meio de união entre as famílias, como forma de apoio mútuo em contextos de adversidade, com destaque para a morte de parentes. Para um de meus interlocutores, algumas das idéias aventadas pelas pessoas que se mostravam contra o barlake – dentre as quais aquelas que o caracterizam como compra e venda da mulher, como quebra de vínculo entre as famílias etc. – eram produto do desconhecimento do seu significado profundo. Destacou então que o hafolin é uma deferência dos fetosaan aos umane pela disponibilização da mulher, o que permitiria a reprodução física e moral da casa dos últimos. Sugestões de que uma mulher que entra para a casa de seu marido sem que por ela seja oferecido nada ou pouca coisa – seja como barlake, seja como aitukan/bee manas – ingressa aí em uma posição muito subalterna, como mulher sem valor, apareceram em diversos discursos. Objeto de preocupação fundamental nas cerimônias de negociação de casamento é a utilização das formas e das fórmulas rituais adequadas para alcance dos efeitos desejados – em geral efeitos de reconhecimento e prestígio – bem como a observação dos limites de barganha diante das solicitações dos umane. Menos do que barganhar, na verdade, as pessoas se empenham em dar mais porque a dádiva é um instrumento de construção de seu status e altera o estado das relações sociais. Não são raras cerimônias voltadas a pedidos simbólicos do barlake, nas quais se enunciam as expectativas de trocas entre as casas/famílias que entrarão em aliança, conforme práticas consideradas ancestrais, mesmo tendo as mesmas anteriormente negociado a ausência de circulação de bens qualificados como barlake. As performances de tais pedidos simbólicos são muitas vezes justificadas como: 1. forma de apresentação recíproca das tradições (lisan) que caracterizam as casas/famílias envolvidas nas bodas, as quais passarão a ter obrigações entre si; 2. meio de valorização da noiva, mediante a demonstração de que ela advém de uma casa/família que tem origens, que tem tradições, que tem ancentrais. Nesse contexto, é importante lembrar que ancestralidade e origem são valores fundamentais entre muitas populações da Indonésia Oriental, operando como variáveis que ordenam relações de precedência entre indivíduos e grupos sociais (Fox 1996, 5). 5 As negociações de casamento em Dili são, entre outras coisas, prestações de reconhecimento recíproco aos “usos e costumes” das casas rituais/famílias nelas envolvidas, bem como a suas identidades regionais e, em última instância, a seus próprios ancestrais, aos quais se deve respeito e deferência sob o risco de castigo e maldições. Os dilemas e as negociações em torno da organização dos casamentos impõem aos habitantes de Dili um diálogo com o que pensam ser os “usos e os costumes” de sua casa ancestral, sua posição social na cidade etc. Propiciam, portanto, de tempo em tempo, uma reelaboração de suas percepções e de seus projetos de referência e pertença, bem como uma avaliação da lealdade e do compromisso dos núcleos familiares que lhes são fetosaan e umane, os quais guardam entre si obrigações diversas na organização de casamentos e funerais. Por fim, cabe destacar que a problemática do barlake é experimentada com grande dramaticidade por muitos atores sociais em Dili. Certas pessoas – homens, na maioria dos casos – positivam o barlake por tomá-lo como antídoto contra o divórcio. Segundo eles, quando existe barlake, não existe divórcio e isto é bom, pois assim a unidade da casa ritual e da família nuclear é mantida. Para que possa haver divórcio, considera-se necessária a restituição do barlake. Assim, muitas mulheres se vêem impelidas a viver em um círculo vicioso de violência doméstica, dada a sua impossibilidade e a de seus familiares de restituírem à família do marido os bens doados em razão do casamento. Considerações finais No âmbito desta última seção, parece-me necessário dar algum sentido à variação de práticas e discursos com os quais me deparei ao longo da pesquisa. Parece-me que tal fato está associado a pelo menos dois fenômenos específicos: 1. às variações de forma e conteúdo das práticas de prestações totais tal como experimentadas pelas diversas populações indígenas que habitam as fronteiras lestetimorenses. Como afirmei acima, são justamente as representações que as elites de Dili alimentam a 5 Em pesquisa realizada para fins de consulta da legislação que tipificava a violência doméstica em Timor-Leste no distrito de Covalima, Daniel Simião (comunicação pessoal) notou que a população local qualificava como pobre o sujeito carente de vínculos sociais. Tal percepção vai ao encontro das sugestões analíticas expostas acima, que sugerem que uma mulher de valor é aquela que pode ser situada em uma série de relações, sejam dedescendência ou aliança. 90 respeito do modo como o barlake é experimentado nas aldeias que as fazem ser mais ou menos simpáticas a ele; 2. aos critérios que pautavam a atribuição do estatuto de assimilado a certos contingentes da população timorense durante a colonização portuguesa. Assim, eram considerados assimilados aqueles que aderiam ao cristianismo, falavam português e, em consequência (presumida pelos colonizadores), estavam libertos de seus “usos e costumes”. Desta forma, a adesão ao barlake e a outras modalidades de “usos e costumes” era e continua a ser uma forma de diferenciação social, experimentada com ambigüidade e certa dramaticidade. Mesmo entre os quadros das elites locais que se pronunciam contra o barlake é comum encontrarmos adesão às práticas animistas que marcam o culto aos ancestrais. Observa-se assim uma postura bastante ambígua entre as elites locais em relação ao que é considerado algo típico das montanhas. Se, por um lado, elas são consideradas lugares de ignorância, nelas também estão localizadas forças poderosas, que se mantêm ativas no cotidiano daqueles que estão em Dili e às quais se deve prestar deferência mediante os bens disponibilizados pelo barlake. Por outro lado, as elites leste-timorenses se constituíram enquanto tais de acordo com sua participação em uma economia de mercado, colonial ou pós-colonial. Não causa surpresa, assim, que parte de seus integrantes projete sobre o barlake o mesmo tipo de racionalidade que opera naquela economia. Por fim, a observação dos rituais de casamento revelou que eles figuram como instrumentos mediante os quais as novas gerações de timorenses aprendem e negociam o que seriam seus “usos e costumes”. No decorrer da pesquisa, observei uma hesitação difusa e generalizada entre os atores sociais envolvidos nas cerimônias matrimoniais. Isto se deve ao fato de que a independência do país trouxe à agenda do dia não só a construção da administração estatal, mas a invenção de uma nação leste-timorense que se conforma a partir do que imagina serem seus “usos e costumes” na esteira dos legados deixados pela colonização portuguesa, pela ocupação indonésia e pela forte presença atual das agências de cooperação internacionais. Bibliografia Appadurai, Arjun 1986, ‘Introduction’ in Appadurai, Arjun (ed), The social life of things. Commodities in cultural perspective, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Barnes, R. H. 1980, ‘Marriage, exchange and the meaning of corporations in Eastern Indonesia’ in Comaroff, J. L. (ed), The meaning of marriage payments, Academic Press, New York. Carsten, Janet and Stephen Hugh-Jones 1995, ‘Introduction’ in Carsten, Janet and Stephen Hugh-Jones, About the house. Lévi-Strauss and beyond, Cambridge University Press, S. l. Cunha, Maria da 2009, O barlake como pressuposto didáctico para o ensino da língua portuguesa, Monografia de especialização apresentada ao curso de Pós-graduação em Língua Portuguesa, Faculdade de Ciências da Educação da Universidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e, Dili, mimeo. Dumont, Louis 1957, ‘Hierarchy and Marriage Alliance in South Indian Kingship’, Occasional papers nº 12 of the Royal Anthropological Institute, London. Errington, S. 1990, ‘Recasting sex, gender and power: a theoretical and regional overview’ in Atkinson, J. M. and S. Errington (eds), Power and Difference: Gender in Island Southeast Asia, Stanford University Press, Stanford and Cambridge. Fox, James 1980, ‘Introduction’ in Fox, James, The Flow of Life: Essays in Eastern Indonesia, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. ---1996, ‘Introduction’ in: Fox, James and Clifford Sather, Origins, Ancestry and Alliance. Explorations in Austronesian Ethnography, Australian National University, Department of Anthropology, S.I. Goody, Jack 1983, The development of the family and marriage in Europe, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.Mamdani, Mahmood 1998, Ciudadano Y súbdito. África contemporánea y el legado del colonialismo tardío, Madri, Siglo XXI Editores. Mauss, Marcel 1974, ‘Ensaio sobre a dádiva’ in Sociologia e antropologia, Editora Pedagógica e Universitária Ltda, São Paulo. Renard-clamagirand, Brigitte 1982, Marobo, Une société ema de Timor, SELAF, Paris. Sahlins, Marshall 1972, Stone Age Economics, Tavistok Publications, Londres. Seixas, Paulo 2006, ‘Firaku e Kaladi: Etnicidades Prevalentes nas Imaginações Unitárias em Timor-Leste’ in Seixas, Paulo (ed), Timor-Leste. Viagens, Transições, Mediações, Edições da Universidade Fernando Pessoa, Porto. Simião, Daniel 2006, ‘Imagens da dor: sentidos de gênero e violência em negociação no espaço urbano de Dili, Timor-Leste’ in Seixas, Paulo and Aone Engelenhoven, Diversidade Cultural e a Construção do Estado e da Nação em Timor-Leste, Editora Universidade Fernando Pessoa, Porto, pp. 165-178. 91 13 Apresentar novas investigações sobre Timor-Leste: Percursos, estratégias e representações socioculturais de um grupo de estudantes timorenses em Portugal Dália Cristóvão6, Pedro Nogueira7 Introdução No final de 2008 a Secretaria de Estado dos Recursos Naturais de Timor Leste (SERN) disponibilizou dez bolsas de estudo para a formação de mestres na área da Cartografia Geológica. Foram seleccionados dez estudantes para frequentarem o Mestrado em Ciências da Terra, da Atmosfera e do Espaço – Ramo de Processos Geológicos, na Universidade de Évora, em Portugal. Durante dois anos (entre Fevereiro de 2009 e Fevereiro de 2011), este grupo de estudantes timorenses fixou residência em Évora, com o intuito de prosseguir os seus estudos de pós-graduação. Durante esse período viveram uma realidade com características diferentes daquelas que conheciam, em termos culturais, linguísticos e académicos. O mestrado encontra-se estruturado em quatro semestres: três lectivos, que no caso decorreram entre Setembro de 2009 e Fevereiro de 2011, e um para a realização da tese, entre Março e Setembro de 2011, que os estudantes já realizaram em território timorense. Para a recepção deste grupo de estudantes foi decidido que o seu período de estadia em Portugal iniciar-se-ia com a frequência obrigatória de um semestre propedêutico, entre Fevereiro e Julho de 2009, com o objectivo de colmatar lacunas, diminuir o espaço de novidade relativamente ao modelo de ensino em Portugal e procurar uniformizar os conhecimentos de base. A identificação das estratégias de integração utilizadas quer pelos estudantes quer pela instituição de acolhimento e o resultado desta experiência no futuro pessoal e profissional dos estudantes constituem os objectivos a alcançar com esta análise. Trata-se de um estudo de caso, para o qual adoptámos uma abordagem qualitativa. As técnicas utilizadas consistiram na observação directa e na realização de entrevistas semiestruturadas aos estudantes. As entrevistas foram estruturadas em torno dos seguintes temas: Caracterização sociocultural e académica Expectativas iniciais Estratégias de integração Aspectos positivos e negativos da sua experiência social e académica Expectativas futuras Migração estudantil: breve enquadramento teórico Os fenómenos migratórios sempre acompanharam o percurso da humanidade. Por diferentes motivos, em diferentes contextos, com consequências diversas, alterando-se à medida que as sociedades se foram modificando. Também os estudos efectuados sobre esta temática têm assumido vários enfoques analíticos ao longo do tempo: as explicações assentes exclusivamente no racionalismo económico do migrante enquanto indivíduo foram dando lugar a análises mais abrangentes que consideram o contexto histórico e social enquanto estruturadores da acção individual (Peixoto 2004). Mais recentemente, a partir dos anos 90 do século XX, é introduzida a noção de transnacionalidade, a qual pretende realçar as diversas relações que os migrantes mantêm simultaneamente com os países de origem e de destino, provocando uma ampliação de fronteiras, não apenas físicas mas também sociais e culturais (Glick Schiller et al 1995; Levitt e Jaworsky 2007). 6 7 CISA-AS, Universidade de Évora, Portugal. Departamento de Geociências, Universidade de Évora; Centro de Geologia, Universidade do Porto. 92 Os indivíduos que se deslocam do seu local de origem com o propósito de estudar incluem-se na designação genérica de migração8, no entanto as características específicas desses migrantes (deslocação temporária, com elevada probabilidade de regresso, associada a outras motivações que não exclusivamente económicas) têm contribuído para que a designação de mobilidade estudantil se tenha generalizado na literatura sobre o tema (King et al 2010), abarcando situações que tanto podem incluir a mobilidade intra-nacional como internacional, de duração variável entre alguns meses a alguns anos, para efectuar intercâmbios entre programas universitários ou para obter ciclos de estudos completos. Tratando-se de um tipo particular de migração, a mobilidade estudantil internacional também não constitui um fenómeno recente, tendo-se no entanto intensificado bastante nas últimas décadas nomeadamente quando falamos de formação universitária9 (OECD 2010). Este aumento explica-se por uma multiplicidade de factores, como a crescente exigência por mão-de-obra qualificada a nível dos mercados internacionais e das economias emergentes, redução dos custos de transporte e comunicações, maior competição a nível das instituições de ensino superior no recrutamento de novos alunos e novas formas de receitas (IOM 2008). Uma das questões que se colocam relativamente à análise da migração estudantil internacional é perceber até que ponto esse tipo de mobilidade constitui uma antecipação para uma emigração qualificada, traduzindo-se numa fuga de cérebros (brain drain), e quais as consequências sobre as economias, nomeadamente dos países em desenvolvimento. No entanto diversas análises procuram mostrar que a emigração qualificada não se traduz necessariamente numa perda de capital humano sem retorno, podendo assumir um carácter de «ida-e-volta», sendo possível identificar mais-valias ou pelo menos alguns efeitos distributivos como o envio de dinheiro para as famílias, conhecimento e apropriação de novas tecnologias, contactos externos (Solimano 2003 e 2006). A noção de migração circular remete igualmente para a de circulação de cérebros (brain circulation), colocando-se a ênfase na transferência de tecnologia e no estabelecimento de redes de trabalho científico e empresarial entre países (Hugo 2003; Gribble 2008). Caracterização sociocultural dos estudantes Este grupo de estudantes quando se deslocou para Portugal possuía uma média etária de 27 anos, com idades compreendidas entre os 24 e os 33 anos. Dois deles eram casados, vivendo os restantes com os pais, irmãos ou outros familiares. À excepção de um, que estudou em Timor Leste, todos os outros obtiveram o diploma de licenciatura na Indonésia. O grupo era composto por recém-licenciados, tendo terminado o curso em 2008. Alguns encontravam-se a trabalhar na SERN, outros tinham trabalhos de carácter temporário, mais ou menos qualificados. Apenas um se encontrava fora de Timor-Leste (na Indonésia), por motivos laborais, a trabalhar na sua área de formação. Apesar de todos terem tido formação de base em áreas relacionadas com a Geologia, apenas três estudaram Engenharia Geológica, os restantes possuíam licenciaturas em áreas de aplicações mais específicas, quer na parte da exploração quer na parte da gestão (Engenharia de Minas, Engenharia de Petróleos e Gestão de Petróleos). Apenas dois deles eram oriundos de Díli, sendo os restantes de diferentes localidades espalhadas por todo o território, a maior parte delas de cariz vincadamente rural. Expectativas iniciais Quando questionados sobre os motivos que os tinham conduzido a candidatarem-se à bolsa de estudo, as respostas remetem-nos para a ideia generalizada de que seria “uma coisa boa”, “importante para o futuro”, algo que eventualmente lhes traria perspectivas de um melhor emprego. Contudo, as referências e conhecimentos prévios que tinham sobre Portugal eram reduzidos, e no que dizia respeito a Évora e à Universidade completamente inexistentes. Alguns tinham apenas como referência o facto de Portugal se localizar na Europa, e um outro tinha como referência a 8 ‘Migração: deslocação de uma pessoa através de um determinado limite espacial, com intenção de mudar de residência de forma temporária ou permanente’ (INE 2003). 9 Segundo dados da OECD e da UNESCO, o número de estudantes a prosseguir estudos superiores em países estrangeiros aumentou de 0,8 milhões em 1975 para 3,3 milhões em 2008 (OECD 2010, 313). 93 participação de Portugal no campeonato de futebol - Euro 2004. As ligações históricas e culturais que unem Portugal a Timor-Leste não são familiares a esta geração, nascida entre o final dos anos setenta e início dos anos oitenta do século XX. O domínio da língua portuguesa era também muito diminuto10, mas mesmo esse facto não os fez recuar na sua decisão de se candidatarem. A única preparação que tiveram antes de partirem, além de alguns conhecimentos muito elementares da língua, foi a frequência de um curso intensivo de português com a duração de duas semanas. As expectativas iniciais relativamente ao que iriam encontrar eram também muito vagas, dominadas pelo acaso. Estratégias de integração 1. Instituição de acolhimento A nível da instituição de acolhimento foram desencadeadas acções no sentido de garantir condições não só para a sua estadia, mas também para procurar facilitar a sua integração com a comunidade estudantil, como por exemplo, a sua inscrição no Núcleo de Estudantes de Geologia da Universidade de Évora. Como já referido, os conhecimentos de base deste grupo de estudantes não eram uniformes entre si (diferentes áreas de estudo a nível da licenciatura). Existiam também diferenças em termos da experiência de ensino/aprendizagem conhecida pelos estudantes (neste caso concreto, do sistema de ensino superior indonésio) e aquela praticada na Universidade de Évora, ou seja, de acordo com o modelo vigente no Espaço Europeu do Ensino Superior e o Processo de Bolonha. De forma a minorar o fosso entre o seu património académico e a nova realidade com que se iriam defrontar, foi instituído um semestre propedêutico composto por disciplinas do nível de licenciatura em Mineralogia, Geologia Geral e Geologia de Campo, também leccionadas na Universidade de Évora11. Devido ao seu fraco domínio da língua portuguesa foi igualmente instituída a frequência de aulas de português ao longo de todo o período da sua estadia, embora nem sempre fácil de conciliar com os cursos de língua portuguesa para estrangeiros já existentes na Universidade. Quanto aos métodos de ensino, as disciplinas escolhidas para este semestre propedêutico contemplavam as diferentes tipologias típicas do ensino na geologia, a saber, aulas de gabinete, aulas laboratoriais e aulas de campo. Complementarmente o tutor realizou encontros semanais onde se falava e discutia cultura portuguesa, actualidades e outros assuntos de interesse geral. O Quadro 1 resume as acções que foram desenvolvidas pela Universidade de Évora para a integração dos estudantes. De forma a agilizar e melhorar a comunicação com os estudantes, além da figura do tutor, foi contratado um estudante timorense com mais experiência em língua portuguesa, e que serviu muitas vezes de ponte entre o tutor e o grupo de estudantes. Quadro 1 Acções de integração por parte da instituição Inserção no “campus” universitário Plano curricular - Introdução de um semestre propedêutico (disciplinas - Garantia de alojamento nas residências universitárias de licenciatura) - Acesso temporário gratuito aos refeitórios universitários - Obrigatoriedade de aulas de português ao longo de - Inscrição no Núcleo de Estudantes de Geologia da dois anos Universidade de Évora - Adaptação das metodologias de ensino: reforço das componentes práticas TUTOR Tendo em atenção os seus parcos conhecimentos sobre a nova realidade (não só a nível de ensino, mas também vivencial), a existência de um tutor tornou-se ainda mais relevante, não só no sentido de consolidar as diferentes acções desencadeadas a nível institucional, mas também a nível 10 Segundo os Census de 2010, o domínio (saber falar, ler e escrever) das duas línguas oficiais e das duas línguas de trabalho por parte da população com mais de 15 anos é o seguinte: tétum: 56,1%; português: 25,2%; indonésio: 45,3%; inglês.14,6% (DNE 2010). 11 Disciplinas escolhidas do currículo da Licenciatura em Ciências da Terra e da Atmosfera e da Licenciatura em Engenharia Geológica. 94 pessoal, procurando agilizar todas as dificuldades e burocracias iniciais e situações de emergência. Embora o auxílio entre eles e entre outros estudantes com mais experiência existisse, apenas funcionava para questões ou problemas de resolução fácil e imediata. 2. Estudantes Quanto às estratégias de integração desenvolvidas pelos próprios estudantes, identificámos não só a construção de uma rede social de apoio, como também o seu envolvimento quer como participantes quer como organizadores de eventos de diversas naturezas, e também com diferentes tipos de intensidade participativa (Quadro 2). Quadro 2 Estratégias de integração por parte dos estudantes Rede Social de Apoio - Professores - Colegas do grupo - Outros estudantes timorenses já residentes em Évora - Igreja Participação em eventos - Desportivos - Religiosos - Culturais Organização de eventos - Criação do Grupo de Estudantes Timorenses em Évora - Festas alusivas a datas comemorativas de Timor Leste - Aniversários A nível académico contaram com o apoio dos docentes, que estavam a par das dificuldades linguísticas e de conhecimentos de base. Este foi aliás um dos aspectos destacados pelos estudantes, embora relembrem as dificuldades sentidas nas primeiras aulas, em que tudo era diferente daquilo a que estavam habituados em contexto de sala de aula, não só em termos linguísticos, mas também em termos de ritmo e de estruturação das matérias. Para os restantes aspectos práticos do dia-a-dia recorriam a um ou outro estudante com melhor domínio do português, quer do grupo dos dez estudantes quer de outros estudantes timorenses que já se encontravam em Évora. Podemos concluir que a sua rede social de apoio local era bastante fechada, convivendo essencialmente entre si. Se por um lado esta situação apresentava vantagens imediatas, acarretou igualmente um conjunto de limitações, como aliás é assinalado por alguns dos entrevistados. Se por um lado constituía uma clara comodidade e um elo de entreajuda, por outro lado tinha o inconveniente de limitar as interacções com outras pessoas, limitar o recurso ao português e mesmo a sua autonomia individual. Ainda assim, o facto de terem estado alojados em residências universitárias alargou um pouco a sua esfera de relacionamentos sociais, nomeadamente através do convívio com estudantes de outras nacionalidades. Apesar destas limitações, essa dependência acabou por se traduzir num outro aspecto positivo, nomeadamente como uma estratégia de resolução de conflitos no interior do grupo, pois como é referido por um dos entrevistados: A maneira timorense é complicada. Quando os timorenses convivem com pessoas de outras nacionalidades não tem problema, mas se tem mais de dois ou três timorenses juntos, tem problema. Embora no seu discurso deixem vislumbrar ocasionalmente a ocorrência de algumas discórdias, o facto é que nunca foi reportado nem noticiado nenhum incidente entre eles durante a sua estadia na universidade, revelando uma capacidade de resolução interna. Mostra igualmente que o tipo de interacção entre eles possuía um cunho funcional e utilitário bastante marcado. A criação do Grupo de Estudantes Timorenses em Évora funcionava quase exclusivamente para a organização de algumas festas alusivas a datas comemorativas em Timor Leste. Este grupo era constituído por todos os timorenses a estudar em Évora (chegou a ser constituído por 27 elementos). À semelhança do que é relatado noutras investigações (Mungoi 2006; Subuhana 2009), sobre grupos de estudantes africanos a estudar no Brasil, estas festas possuem uma forte componente identitária, não apenas em termos individuais, mas também em termos colectivos, em que perpassa um forte sentido de pertença nacional. A bandeira, o hino e a gastronomia timorense eram elementos constantes. 95 Resultado da experiência e expectativas futuras Como já foi referido, todos os elementos do grupo de estudantes em análise apresentavam um reduzido domínio da língua portuguesa. Esse fraco conhecimento do português foi identificado por todos os entrevistados como o grande obstáculo, que dificultou a sua integração não apenas em termos académicos, mas também em termos de toda a interacção com o meio envolvente. Quadro 3 Aspectos negativos e positivos Aspectos negativos - Fraco domínio da língua portuguesa - Clima (Inverno muito frio e Verão muito quente) - Existência de muitas regras entendidas como limitativas da liberdade individual Aspectos positivos - Aumentar os conhecimentos de português - Forte componente prática do ensino - Elevado nível de exigência - Condições de trabalho na universidade Apesar de estarem familiarizados com um sistema de ensino diferente (sistema indonésio), e apesar de reconhecerem que lhes era exigido um esforço a que não estavam habituados, responderam de forma positiva, tendo mesmo indicado o nível de exigência como um dos aspectos apreciados no ensino. A componente prática e aplicada do ensino foram características que os estudantes também salientaram como relevantes para a sua formação. Em termos de prosseguimento dos estudos no exterior, todos eles mostram disponibilidade para continuar se surgirem oportunidades para tal, quer seja a nível de doutoramento, de outras pósgraduações ou mesmo no aperfeiçoamento da língua portuguesa e inglesa. Quando questionados sobre a possibilidade de saírem para trabalhar, podemos distinguir dois grupos: uma minoria que diz ainda não ter nenhuma ideia definida sobre o assunto, e a maioria que indica de forma convicta a sua vontade de ficar em Timor-Leste de forma permanente. A vontade de constituir e dar apoio à família foi um dos argumentos apresentados por um dos entrevistados para fixar residência no país, enquanto outro diz preferir os modos de vida a que está acostumado. Todos os outros se mostram movidos entre um misto de espírito nacionalista (como um dos entrevistados refere) e um sentimento de responsabilidade perante a necessidade de ajudar ao desenvolvimento do país e das famílias. Já temos muitos timorenses que trabalham fora. Se todos saírem, então quem fica para trabalhar? Considerações finais Alguns dos factores que frequentemente se encontram associados à escolha do país de acolhimento para prosseguimento dos estudos, como a proximidade geográfica, sociocultural ou linguística, ou mesmo a qualidade de vida (IMO 2008), não foram considerados neste caso concreto. Pelo contrário, a questão linguística apresentou-se mesmo como grande obstáculo. A sua motivação consistia na importância de “agarrar” a oportunidade (bolsa de estudo, obtenção de um mestrado), independentemente das dificuldades, ou até sem ter uma noção clara das possíveis dificuldades. Todos eles concluíram a parte lectiva no período estipulado, contudo, o fraco domínio da língua portuguesa constituiu claramente um factor de empobrecimento da experiência de mobilidade estudantil internacional, não só em termos académicos mas também socioculturais. Enquanto a nível académico foram sujeitos a um esforço suplementar para a obtenção de aprovação, a nível social acabaram por se movimentar num espaço muito restrito e de carácter essencialmente funcional. Num primeiro momento a opção de todos eles em ir estudar para Portugal insere-se predominantemente numa perspectiva individual (de projecto de vida, carreira, mobilidade social), contudo, em termos de perspectivas futuras, adoptam na sua maioria uma perspectiva colectiva (apoio/proximidade da família, desenvolvimento das instituições timorenses). Embora esta pesquisa possua uma dimensão restrita ao caso em análise, é interessante verificar a aproximação destes relatos e destas vivências não só à noção de brain circulation, mas também à noção de transnacionalidade, no sentido em que, além do percurso que já possuem (de sucessivas migrações, da aldeia para a cidade, da cidade para o país vizinho e daí para Portugal) consideram ainda um continuado alargamento de fronteiras a nível cognitivo e físico (continuação de estudos no exterior), 96 mas com regresso “marcado” para o seu país. E embora apenas a longo prazo seja possível verificar até que ponto esta aposta na formação superior no exterior terá reflexos no desenvolvimento do país, é expectável que uma rede de conhecimentos e influências (a nível pessoal e profissional) se vá tecendo ao longo de todos esses trajectos. Com base nos resultados observados, gostaríamos ainda de destacar os aspectos positivos e negativos desta experiência em termos globais, esperando que possam ser úteis não só para outros estudantes que prossigam os seus estudos no exterior, como para as instituições de ensino superior que os acolhem. Assim, e tal como ficou claro ao longo de toda a exposição, a questão linguística não deve ser descurada, devendo ser dada especial atenção ao ensino da língua. A abordagem que melhor resultou foi quando os alunos passaram a ter aulas de língua portuguesa apenas para o grupo e com maior frequência. É por nós sugerida uma frequência diária de aulas de língua e especialmente centrada na conversação e leitura. Por outro lado, a existência de um semestre propedêutico revelou-se bastante útil no sentido de diminuir o espaço de novidade (novelty space), sobretudo nos casos em que o sistema de onde os estudantes provêm é completamente distinto, assim como as componentes práticas. Por último, destacamos ainda a figura do tutor, não apenas nos moldes de orientador académico, mas enquanto veículo integrador de todos os espaços vivenciais. Bibliografia Direcção Nacional de Estatística (DNE) 2010, Population and Housing Census 2010: Social and Economics Characteristics, vol. 3, Direcção Nacional de Estatística e United Nations Population Fund, Timor Leste. Glick Schiller, Nina, Linda Basch and Cristina Szanton 1995, ‘From Immigrant to Transmigrant: Theorizing Transnational Migration’, Anthropological Quarterly, 68(1): 48-63. Gribble, Cate 2008, 'Policy options for managing international student migration: the sending country's perspective', Journal of Higher Education Policy and Management, 30(1): 25-39. Hugo, Graeme 2003, ‘Circular migration: Keeping development rolling?’, Migration Information Source, www.migrationinformation.org, consultado em 9 setembro 2011. International Organization for Migration (IOM) 2008, World Migration 2008 Report: Managing Labour Mobility in the Evolving Global Economy, IOM, Geneva. Instituto Nacional de Estatística (INE) 2003, Meta-informação, http://metaweb.ine.pt/sim/conceitos/Detalhe.aspx?cnc_cod=192&cnc_ini=11-04-2003, consultado em 9 setembro 2011. King, Russell; Findlay, Allan; Ahrens, Jill 2010, International student mobility literature review, HEFCE. Levitt, Peggy; Jaworsky, B. 2007, ‘Transnational Migration Studies: Past Developments and Future Trends’, Annual Review of Sociology, 33: 129-156. Mungoi, Dulce, 2006, O Mito Atlântico: Relatando experiências singulares de mobilidade dos estudantes africanos em Porto Alegre no Jogo de Construção e Reconstrução de suas Identidades Étnicas, Porto Alegre (tese de mestrado policopiada). OECD 2010, Education at a Glance 2010: OECD Indicators, OECD Publishing. Peixoto, João 2004, ‘As Teorias Explicativas das Migrações: Teorias Micro e Macro-Sociológicas’, SOCIUS Working Papers, Universidade Técnica de Lisboa. Solimano, Andrés 2003, ‘Globalizing Talent and Human Capital: Implications for Developing Countries’, 4th Annual World Bank Conference on Development Economics, Oslo, Norway, 24-26 de Junho de 2002, (versão revista). --- 2006, The international mobility of talent and its impact on global development: an overview, CEPAL – SERIE Macroeconomía del desarrollo, 52, United Nations Publication, Santiago, Chile. Subuhana, Carlos 2009, ‘A experiência sociocultural de universitários da África Lusófona no Brasil: entremeando histórias’, Pro-Posições, Campinas, 20(1): 103-126. 97 14 O impacto da agricultura itinerante no bem-estar das populações rurais e nos ecossistemas naturais e semi-naturais de Timor-Leste Maria Jesus,1, Pedro Henriques,2 Pedro Laranjeira,3 Vanda Narciso4 Introdução Nos países tropicais assiste-se todos os anos, à destruição de milhares de hectares de floresta e de matos em consequência da prática de agricultura itinerante “slush and burn”, “shifting cultivation” ou “swidden agriculture”. Esta actividade introduz uma alteração nos ecossistemas pela destruição do coberto vegetal. A agricultura itinerante é um tipo de sistema agrícola tradicional, adoptado historicamente nos ecossistemas de florestas tropicais, em que o ser humano faz o corte da floresta, queimando os resíduos como preparo da terra para o cultivo de subsistência. A produção de alimentos é feita por 2 a 3 anos e, posteriormente, essa área é abandonada, tornando-se assim improdutiva. Muitas vezes, nos terrenos abandonados estabelece-se a floresta secundária, podendo esse terreno voltar a ser utilizado para o cultivo após dez a vinte anos. Este tipo de agricultura envolve a deslocação dos sítios de cultivo, sendo, nas suas formas mais tradicionais e culturais, um modo de agricultura ecologicamente viável e economicamente racional desde que as densidades populacionais sejam baixas e os períodos de pousio suficientemente longos para manter a fertilidade dos solos. Este tipo de agricultura é, na sua essência, uma forma de exploração da terra com rotações de longo prazo, sendo a floresta secundária um dos elementos da rotação. Na perspectiva da intensidade de uso da terra, os sistemas de agricultura itinerante são bastante influenciados pela densidade populacional. O cultivo contínuo marca o fim da agricultura itinerante. A densidade populacional é a força motriz na transformação da agricultura itinerante em formas de agricultura permanente. Esta, ao reduzir a fertilidade dos solos, necessita da adopção de novas tecnologias em que os factores de produção modernos são essenciais à manutenção da produtividade. Numa perspectiva mais alargada, os tipos de agricultura itinerante variam de acordo com a vegetação inicial (floresta primária; floresta secundária, matos e agro-floresta; e prados, pastagens e savanas), o tipo de utilizadores (comunidades indígenas; colonos; e fazendeiros), a vegetação final (floresta secundária; pastagens; e culturas permanentes e agro-florestais), e a dimensão do pousio da terra (sem pousio ou ciclo contínuo; pousio curto – 1 a 2 anos; pousio médio – 3 a 8 anos; pousio longo – mais de 8 anos) (Fujsaka e Escobar 1997). A agricultura tradicional timorense é classificada em agricultura sobre queimada (também designada por “ladang”), extensiva, quase itinerante, com longos pousios (que podem atingir dez anos ou mais), sempre em regime de sequeiro, à excepção da cultura do arroz que é feita em várzeas irrigadas (o “sawah” malaio) (Tomás 1973). Desde um passado longínquo, houve uma transformação contínua dos ecossistemas naturais em formas de agricultura itinerante por parte das populações de Timor-Leste. A agricultura itinerante, uma das actividades principais dos agricultores Timorenses, ainda hoje é praticada como agricultura de subsistência, sendo o milho, o feijão, a mandioca, a batata-doce e a abóbora as principais culturas anuais. Identificada com as culturas de horta, a agricultura itinerante não implica a deslocação da povoação ou do local de habitação, mas somente a deslocação para novos terrenos de cultivo de pertença da família, normalmente localizados nos domínios da aldeia. A transformação dos ecossistemas naturais intensificou-se desde o final do Século XIX, com o derrube de muitas florestas para a introdução de culturas permanentes ou de plantação, das quais 1 Técnica Superior de Agricultura, Díli, Timor-Leste. CEFAGE e Departamento de Economia - Universidade de Évora. 3 Ministério dos Negócios Estrangeiros, Dili, Timor-Leste. 4 Investigadora independente. 2 98 sobressaem o café, o coco, a borracha, a canela, o cacau e a pimenta. Muitas destas culturas estavam enquadradas num sistema de exploração quase agro-florestal, de exploração contínua e que nos dias de hoje, devido à sua importância económica, ainda assumem relevo o coco e principalmente o café. Não existem dados oficiais sobre este tipo de agricultura em Timor-Leste, mas se olharmos para a área (cerca de 90.000 ha) e para o número de famílias (cerca de 70% do total de famílias) que cultivam a principal cultura itinerante, o milho, ficamos com uma ideia da importância sócio económica deste sistema de agricultura em Timor-Leste. Por exemplo, no inventário florestal feito no distrito de Bobonaro, cerca de 66% das parcelas da amostragem demonstram a evidência de corte das florestas, cerca de 23% das parcelas da amostragem possuem agricultura itinerante e 19% apresentam sinais de queimadas (Laranjeira et al. 2010; Marques et al. 2010). O solo, o clima e a orografia são factores determinantes na ocupação vegetal e exploração agrícola dos recursos naturais do território de Timor-Leste. Sendo a agricultura itinerante uma das formas de exploração humana deste território, as suas consequências estão muito dependentes da conjugação daqueles três elementos. A orografia é desfavorável para as actividades agrícolas. A agricultura itinerante, praticada pela maioria dos agricultores Timorenses, ao ter um impacto substancial no coberto vegetal, potencia a erosão e reduz a fertilidade dos solos, os recursos hídricos e a sustentabilidade ambiental de longo prazo. A taxa de desflorestação do território é muito elevada, estimada em cerca de 1,1% por ano. Com este trabalho pretendemos caracterizar e relevar a importância sócio económica da agricultura itinerante para as populações rurais do território, e, ainda que sumariamente, identificar os seus impactes na sustentabilidade ambiental dos ecossistemas do país e referir as soluções para minorar os seus impactes negativos. A metodologia utilizada baseou-se na recolha de informação bibliográfica relevante sobre o tema e na realização de um inquérito por questionário a agricultores itinerantes do sub-distrito de Atabae, distrito de Bobonaro. Este questionário caracterizou a agricultura itinerante e ouviu a opinião dos agricultores sobre os efeitos da mesma. A agricultura itinerante em Timor-Leste No presente, a maioria da população de Timor-Leste está envolvida na agricultura de altitude utilizando práticas de agricultura itinerante. Dependendo da mão-de-obra disponível, cada família ocupa em média entre 1 e 2 hectares, utilizando 2 a 3 parcelas. Algumas das áreas cultivadas situam-se em solos férteis ao longo dos rios ou riachos, mas a maioria está localizada nas encostas. Cerca de 60% da área cultivada anualmente encontra-se em zonas com declive e portanto sujeita à erosão (RDTL 2009). As culturas mais comummente plantadas são o milho, a mandioca, o feijão e alguns vegetais. O período de cultivo dura cerca de 3 anos, sendo depois a terra abandonada para pousio por alguns anos, após o que é novamente cultivada sem medidas apropriadas de conservação. Quase todas as famílias fazem horta anualmente, mas a horta feita num ano, nunca é a única fonte de alimentação. Dado que o mesmo terreno pode ser cultivado pelo menos dois a três anos seguidos, a família conserva em cultura duas ou três das parcelas antigas. A Tabela 1 indica o número e a percentagem de famílias que produzem as diferentes culturas, verificando-se que as culturas identificadas com a agricultura itinerante, milho, mandioca, vegetais e culturas temporárias, são produzidas por mais de 50% das famílias timorenses. Tabela 1 - Famílias a produzir as diferentes culturas Arroz Milho Mandioca Vegetais Frutos Temporários Frutos Permanentes Famílias a Produzir 60.966 131.516 134.233 103.779 124.766 131.854 % de Famílias que produzem cada cultura 31,3 67,5 68,9 53,2 64,0 67,6 99 Café Coco Outras Culturas Temporárias Outras Culturas Permanentes Total de Famílias 66.679 116.562 118.163 127.569 194.962 34,2 59,8 60,6 65,4 100,0 Fonte: DNE, 2006 Assim, a maior extensão de terras cultiváveis continua a ser sob o sistema de “shifting cultivation”, cultivo sobre queimadas, um processo aplicado quase sempre nas hortas. A base deste tipo de agricultura consiste no pesado trabalho de derrube das árvores e arbustos, efectuado por homens durante a estação seca (Agosto/Setembro). Depois de lhes lançarem o fogo, fazem a vedação com sebes, circundando os terrenos cultivados, para os proteger da acção nociva dos animais domésticos e silvestres. Ao homem compete ainda fazer as sementeiras e as colheitas, enquanto a mulher pode ajudar naquelas e executar as mondas (Brito 1971). Em 1977, Metzner refere a existência de dois tipos de agricultura itinerante em Timor: a “fila rai” e a “lere rai”, os quais correspondem aos processos de preparação do solo descritos e identificados por Brito (1971) e Tomás (1973). O mesmo autor refere que a diferença entre os tipos itinerantes reside no facto de a primeira ser um sistema mais antigo (menos evoluído) que intercala a rotação das culturas, com períodos de pousio de dimensão variada, usada em solos recentemente desflorestados que não necessitavam de matéria orgânica, enquanto a segunda resulta do aumento da pressão populacional que leva a agricultura a adaptar como técnica uma espécie de lavoura do solo, envolvendo no geral seis a oito pessoas, trabalhando lado a lado e usando instrumentos incipientes como ferramentas para o trabalho do solo. Ao longo da costa sul, onde há duas épocas de chuva por ano (Dezembro-Março e Maio-Julho), é possível fazer uma segunda cultura em cada ano; por isso fazem-se novas queimadas durante o uailoro-kiic ou verão pequeno, isto é, o intervalo entre as duas épocas de chuva, que corresponde aproximadamente ao mês de Abril. Nesta região, uma das colheitas é, em regra, destinada ao consumo doméstico, e a outra, se possível, é comercializada (Tomás 1973). As vantagens da consociação no mesmo terreno de culturas diferentes são a defesa quase instintiva contra as irregularidades da chuva. Como as culturas não são igualmente susceptíveis às variações de pluviosidade, as crises alimentares são minoradas, podendo, em certa medida, fazer-se a substituição de uns produtos agrícolas por outros (Brito 1971). O questionário aplicado a agricultores itinerantes do sub-distrito de Atabae, distrito de Bobonaro, permite-nos dizer que não houve alterações significativas no processo de agricultura itinerante descrito acima e praticado durante a ocupação colonial portuguesa. A actividade de corte e derrube da floresta é praticada pela quase totalidade dos agricultores (87,1%) há pelo menos mais de 10 anos. As terras utilizadas na agricultura itinerante são um misto de terras novas e terras anteriores (51,6%), havendo 32,3% dos agricultores a referirem que só utilizam terras anteriores e 16,1% a dizerem que só utilizam terras novas. As terras sujeitas a corte e derrube estão localizadas na aldeia de residência dos agricultores a uma distância média de 2 km e a propriedade da terra é individual (51,6%) e do estado (35,5%). Os critérios de selecção dos locais para agricultura itinerante são dominados pelos melhores solos, floresta densa e o regresso a locais anteriores, referidos por 71,0%, 58,1% e 48,4% dos inquiridos, respectivamente. O tipo de vegetação sujeita a corte e derrube é dominada pela floresta densa (61,3%) e pelas ervas (45,1%). O corte e derrube da floresta é feito pelo grupo familiar (61,3%), individualmente (25,8%) e pela comunidade (12,9%). Os agricultores cortam e derrubam uma área média de 1,7 ha, sendo que cerca de 50% dos agricultores cortam e derrubam uma área inferior a 1 ha. Todos os agricultores possuem parcelas de terra que abandonam, havendo 71% dos agricultores que referem possuir parcelas que nunca deixam de cultivar, normalmente as localizadas junto à habitação. Os agricultores que não possuem parcelas de horta fixa (29%) são aqueles que contribuem para um maior desbaste de áreas florestais e de mato. A preparação do solo começa com a queima dos resíduos antes da sementeira, quer nos terrenos novos quer naqueles que os agricultores cultivam há vários anos. Na sementeira é utilizada a alavanca “becin-suac” para abrir os buracos onde se colocam as sementes. As culturas dominantes são milho, 100 mandioca e abóbora (≈90%) num primeiro nível de importância, depois batata-doce e amendoim (≈40%) num segundo nível e arroz de sequeiro e tunis (≈20%) num terceiro nível de importância. O número médio de anos de agricultura no mesmo terreno é de cerca de 5,7 anos, valor médio superior aos 3 anos referidos na literatura para Timor-Leste (RDTL, 2009). A distribuição dos agricultores pelas classes do número de anos de utilização dos terrenos - até 3 anos, entre 3 e 6 anos e mais de 6 anos-, é idêntica. Depois da agricultura itinerante, cerca de metade dos agricultores diz que procede à rearborização dos terrenos com teca e os restantes referem que os abandonam. Relativamente ao futuro, a maioria dos agricultores (61%) não manifestou intenção de aumentar a área de agricultura itinerante enquanto 29% manifestaram intenção de expandir a área destinada à agricultura itinerante. Segundo Egashira et al., (2006), no passado a agricultura itinerante foi bem praticada pelos agricultores timorenses com uma gestão sustentável dos solos e com períodos de pousio longos, podendo chegar aos 15 anos. Contudo, o período de pousio foi reduzido, devido à limitação na disponibilidade de terra causada, principalmente, por um aumento crescente de população. O derrube e a queima permanecem, mas sem deslocação para novas terras, resultado da conversão da agricultura itinerante em cultivo contínuo. De forma esquemática, a utilização do solo para a agricultura itinerante em Timor-Leste pode ser representada através do Diagrama 1. Esta utilização do solo pode dividir-se em três etapas: derrube e corte, utilização do solo para agricultura e abandono da terra. A seguir ao derrube e corte de florestas e matos, faz-se a queima dos resíduos como preparação para a sementeira. Os terrenos são cultivados vários anos, findo os quais, os agricultores os voltam a abandonar por períodos longos, para que se possa restaurar a fertilidade do solo através do crescimento da floresta secundária. Diagrama 1 – Etapas da agricultura itinerante Para além do rendimento obtido pelas culturas agrícolas, os materiais resultantes do corte e derrube da floresta são utilizados pelos agricultores para uso doméstico (lenha, materiais de construção e vedação das suas áreas de cultivo) e alguns deles são vendidos no mercado. Problemas da agricultura itinerante em Timor-Leste Em Timor-Leste, a prática da agricultura itinerante tem tido efeitos negativos directos sobre a área florestal e a biodiversidade, a fertilidade e produtividade do solo, e a quantidade e qualidade dos recursos hídricos, além de um conjunto de efeitos sobre os bens e serviços produzidos pela floresta. Estes efeitos, não detalhados por limitações de espaço, podem ser contextualizados numa esfera local, regional e global. No âmbito local, interessa a produtividade do sistema agrícola itinerante para satisfazer as necessidades básicas de subsistência e de rendimento, assim como a sua sustentabilidade de longo prazo que inclui os riscos de pluviosidade e de doenças e pragas; a nível regional, importam as funções desempenhadas pelas bacias hidrográficas no abastecimento de água e na prevenção de cheias e 101 desastres naturais; e globalmente, deve referir-se o sequestro de carbono e a biodiversidade (Jong et al. 2001). A agricultura itinerante ao derrubar a floresta tem um efeito negativo directo sobre os bens e serviços produzidos pela floresta e utilizados no dia-a-dia, nos quais sobressaem por ordem de importância dada pelos agricultores, a lenha, os materiais de construção, a madeira, a caça e as plantas medicinais. Os agricultores consideram que o corte e derrube da floresta exercem um efeito negativo sobre os bens e serviços produzidos pelas florestas através de alteração do regime de chuvas e de água das nascentes, perda de terra, alteração do clima, redução dos animais e plantas selvagens e dos produtos apanhados na floresta. Soluções para a agricultura itinerante em Timor-Leste Os sistemas agrícolas tradicionais de agricultura itinerante foram desenvolvidos pelos agricultores para melhor utilizar os recursos do solo disponíveis e as sequências climáticas. O objectivo foi e é a produção de alimentos para o sustento dos agregados familiares e, no caso de haver excedentes, a sua venda nos mercados. A prática da agricultura itinerante em Timor-Leste ocorreu durante um longo período de tempo e passou por uma série de experiências que foram transmitidas de geração em geração. Na maioria dos casos, o sistema tradicional de agricultura itinerante é ecologicamente estável e funciona, desde que os agricultores estejam dispostos a permanecer num nível próximo do de subsistência (Viegas 2003). Um aumento do bem-estar - que significa uma melhoria na produção de bens agrícolas-, exige uma melhoria na produtividade, mesmo nos solos em que a queda de produtividade não ocorre rapidamente. Nesta perspectiva importa encontrar soluções capazes de viabilizar, para a maioria dos camponeses, a produção de alimentos nas áreas montanhosas, considerando, à partida, que o problema não é estritamente técnico, mas tem uma componente humana fundamental, havendo que encontrar soluções não apenas sustentáveis, mas que respondam directamente às preocupações das populações. A maioria dos agricultores tem a percepção que perdem alguma coisa com o corte e derrube da floresta, o que poderá indiciar a sua pré-disposição para aceitar mudanças na sua forma de fazer a agricultura tradicional, certamente desde que essas mudanças não ponham em causa a sobrevivência do seu agregado familiar. Na realidade sócia económica de Timor-Leste, a aplicação de soluções técnicas – reflorestação e gestão florestal, mulching e proibição da agricultura itinerante- não é suficiente dada a complexidade da organização política e social das diferentes comunidades que compõem o seu mundo rural. Nas soluções integradas, modelo Amarasi (Jones 1983) e modelo de Dare (RDTL 2005), as soluções técnicas para melhorar a agricultura itinerante, são apresentadas e tratadas com a comunidade em que são elementos fundamentais a participação e a responsabilização dos elementos da comunidade e a valorização económica e social dos bens produzidos pelas actividades agrícolas e florestais por toda a comunidade. Bibliografia Boserup, E.1981, Population and Technology, Basil Blackwell, Oxford. Brito, Raquel Soeiro de 1971, ‘Ocupação do Solo no Timor Português’, Geographica, ano VII, Lisboa, Sociedade de Geografia, 27, Julho, pp. 1-28. Conklin, HC 1957, Hanunóo agriculture, FAO Forestry Development Paper 12, FAO, Rome. DNE 2006, Census da população, Direcção Nacional de Estatística. Egashira, Kazuhiko, Marçal Gusmão e Kiyoshi Kurosawa 2006, ‘The Present and Future Land Management in East Timor – from “Slush and Burn” to “Slush and Mulch,’ J. Fac. Agr., Kyushu Univ., 51 (2): 367–372. Fujsaka, Sam e German Escobar 1997, Towards a partial classification of slash and burn agricultural systems, Rural Development Forest Network, CIAT, Cali. Gonçalves. M. M. 1963, O Problema da Erosão Em Timor, Missão de Estudos Agronómicos do Ultramar. Jones, Paul H. 1983, Lamtoro and The Amarasi Model from Timor, Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies, 19(3): 106-112. Jong, W., M. Sirait e N. Liswanti 2001, Farming secondary forests in Indonesia, Journal of Tropical Forest Science, 13(4): 705-726. Lança, Augusto e António Parreira 2006, A agricultura de montanha em Timor-Leste, Esporo, 76: 6-7. 102 Laranjeira, P., Ferreira, M., Marques, P. C. e Aranha, J. T. M. 2010, Monitorização do espaço florestal de Timor-Leste através de Sistemas de Informação Geográfica e Detecção Remota. Caso de estudo nos distritos de Bobonaro e de Covalima. My ESIG 2010. Oeiras, Portugal. Marques, P. C., Fonseca, T., Ferreira, M e Laranjeira, P. 2010, Primeiro Inventário Nacional de Floresta de Timor-Leste em Dsitrito de Bobonaro e de Covalima, Universidades de Trás-os- Montes e Alto Douro. Metzner, J. 1977, ‘Man and environment in Eastern Timor’, The Development Studies Centre, Monograph 8., The Australian National University, Canberra, pp: 1-377. Mota, F. 2002, Timor-Leste: As novas Florestas do Pais, Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas, Direcção Geral de Agricultura, Divisão de Florestas. RDTL 2005, Avaliação preliminar da governação e gestão dos recursos da comunidade, Programa de Legislação de Terras de Timor-Leste, Díli. ---2009, Programa de acção nacional para combater a degradação dos solos, Díli. Raintree, J. B. e K. Warner 1986, ‘Agroforestry pathways for the intensification of shifting cultivation’, Agroforestry Systems, 4: 39-54. Richards, P. 1985, Indigenous Agricultural Revolution, Hutchison, London. Tomás, Luís Filipe R. 1973, ‘Vida Rural Timorense’, Geographica, ano IX, Lisboa, Sociedade de Geografia, 33: 3-26. Viegas, Edmundo 2003, Agricultural Mechanization for a Sustainable Development of East Timor, East Timor Study Group (ETSG), Working Paper: 06. 103 15 Produção, consumo e importância da cultura do arroz: da colonização portuguesa a Timor-Leste independente Jorge da Silva,1Pedro Henriques,2 Fátima Jorge,3 Vanda Narciso4 Introdução A introdução da cultura do arroz em Timor-Leste não está datada, mas já era cultivado antes da chegada dos portugueses, possivelmente numa escala reduzida, com água da chuva ou irrigação parcial (Fox 2003; OXFAM 2004). Quando no princípio do século XVI os portugueses aportaram a Timor, a base da alimentação dos timorenses eram os vegetais nos quais se incluía o arroz e os tubérculos. O consumo de arroz não estava generalizado nem o arroz era um produto regular da dieta timorense, era um prato de luxo na alimentação para a maior parte dos timorenses, e o seu uso quase exclusivo dos chefes e povos vivendo em plena região de várzeas (Duarte 1930). A importância do arroz na dieta dos timorenses aumentou, principalmente durante a ocupação Indonésia, entre o fim da colonização portuguesa e 2003 o consumo per capita cresceu quase quatro vezes. Dado que a produção de arroz raramente foi suficiente para cobrir o consumo doméstico, as diferentes administrações implementaram políticas de fomento da produção na tentativa de atingir a auto-suficiência e reduzir as importações. As políticas implementadas passaram essencialmente pela expansão das zonas irrigadas de várzea, introdução de sementes melhoradas, melhoria da técnica de sementeira e introdução da tracção mecânica. As técnicas de colheita e pós-colheita permaneceram quase imutáveis. Este estudo pretende caracterizar, analisar e comparar a produção de arroz no período colonial Português, durante a ocupação indonésia e no período de independência, utilizando dados secundários e dados primários. Os dados primários foram recolhidos através de inquérito por questionário a 96 agricultores, seleccionados por conveniência nos sucos de Tasi, Bercoli, Bahamori, Boruma, Seiçal e Soba, distrito de Baucau. O questionário teve como objectivo: conhecer o público-alvo; saber das características da cultura do arroz nos aspectos da produção, tecnologia, comercialização e apoio técnico durante os três períodos; e condições de higiene e segurança no trabalho. A produção, o consumo e a importância do arroz Colonização Portuguesa A política de fomento da agricultura timorense esteve directamente ligada ao apoio do cultivo de arroz e da principal cultura de exportação, o café. Uma das primeiras medidas foi a criação por Afonso de Castro (1860) da repartição de culturas para centralizar o apoio ao desenvolvimento agrícola enquanto Celestino da Silva (1896 a 1910) dinamizou e apoiou várias culturas, nas quais se incluía o arroz, com vista ao consumo local e à exportação. Destacamos entre 1910 e 1920 a aquisição de máquinas de descasque do arroz e a importação de sementes para arroz de várzea e de montanha, (Figueiredo 2004; Roxo 1914). Durante os anos trinta a identificação das potencialidades de Timor e os problemas crónicos gerados pela importação de arroz, conduziram à construção das infra-estruturas de rega e melhoramento das sementes e dos tratos culturais da terra (Duarte 1930; Magro 1943). No final dos anos cinquenta, o aparecimento da brigada da Missão de Estudos Agronómicos do Ultramar (MEAU) e dos planos de fomento permitiu a melhoria da rede de irrigação, a abertura de 1 Departamento Agro Economia, Universidade Nacional de Timor Lorosa’e CEFAGE e Departamento de Economia - Universidade de Évora 3 Departamento de Gestão - Universidade de Évora 4 Investigadora independente 2 104 novos terrenos para o cultivo de arroz, a criação de centros de extensão rural, a introdução de novas técnicas culturais com a utilização de tractores e de novos sistemas de plantação, e a introdução de novas variedades de arroz (Reis 2000). São cultivados dois tipos de arroz, o de montanha, também designado de sequeiro, semeado na época do milho e pelos mesmos processos deste, e o de várzea em que se utiliza a água de ribeiras e nascentes. No princípio do século XX, o arroz de sequeiro era a espécie mais divulgada, de melhor qualidade e de maior rentabilidade (Duarte 1930; Figueiredo 2004). O regime de propriedade da terra nas zonas de várzea, era tendencialmente de propriedade privada, sendo que um certo número de indivíduos, ou a totalidade de uma povoação, contracta com o (arrenda ao) dono da várzea, fazendo o pagamento com uma parte da colheita (Andrade 1907). A tecnologia de produção do arroz não se alterou significativamente durante a administração do território por Portugal. As descrições feitas no final do século XIX são bastante semelhantes às feitas por Brito (1971) e Tomás (1973). Com as primeiras chuvas a várzea era alagada e pisada por búfalos ou cavalos até o solo ficar bem solto e com pelo menos um palmo de lama, a sementeira era em regra a lanço, a única fertilização era a feita com o estrume dos animais que utilizavam as várzeas para pasto (búfalos, bois e gado miúdo) e as mondas raramente eram praticadas. No final do período colonial português quer a prática de viveiros e transplante, que já se fazia em Suro e Hatolia nos anos 30, quer o uso de fertilizante não estavam generalizadas ao território (Duarte 1930; Tomás 1973). Na colheita eram utilizadas facas, a debulha era feita por patas de búfalos ou por homens e mulheres que pisavam as espigas executando uma dança tradicional (same hare, em tétum), acompanhada de cânticos, muitas vezes transformada numa festa ou estilo nocturna (Silva 1910). Embora o descasque mecânico tenha sido introduzido, a sua expansão no território foi lenta, pois o descasque manual do arroz (fai-hare), a pilão, era ainda dominante (90%) nos anos trinta (Duarte 1930), sendo que nos anos setenta cerca de 11.000 toneladas tinham sido descascadas mecanicamente. As variedades tradicionais eram as dominantes, embora fossem cultivadas o “Java”, “Singapura”, “Nipon”, e o “IR8”, parecendo este muito bem adaptado às irregularidades de precipitação local (Brito 1971). Durante a colonização portuguesa a área potencial de arroz foi estimada em 80.000 ha, e segundo a MEAU, dever-se-ia dispor em 1975, de 20.000 a 25.000 hectares de várzeas de arroz, com capacidade de produzir na ordem das 60.000 toneladas. A rentabilidade da produção do arroz de várzea era baixa, dependia essencialmente da variedade da semente, da água disponível e da qualidade dos aluviões transportados pelos cursos de água, atingindo os 1500Kg/ha nas regiões mais produtivas enquanto em muitas outras regiões não ultrapassava os 800. A produção média anual de arroz era cerca de 15.000 Ton e em 1970 o consumo era cerca de 30,1 Kg/capita (Brito 1971; Tomás 1973; Calapez 1972). A produção de arroz foi quase sempre insuficiente para cobrir as necessidades de consumo interno. A importação de arroz, referida desde 1840, era maior ou menor, conforme os anos agrícolas e as disponibilidades financeiras (Figueiredo 2004). A política de formação de recursos humanos foi muito incipiente, o ensino não formal cobriu somente 8 dos 13 distritos com uma oferta reduzida de cursos em que dominavam a tracção, os viveiros e a pecuária e o ensino formal agrícola estava reduzido à escola técnica agrícola de Fatumaca (Silva 2011). Ocupação Indonésia Até 1975 o desenvolvimento do arroz estava concentrado na metade oriental de Timor-Leste. Com a invasão da Indonésia, o foco do desenvolvimento do arroz passou para a planície de Bobonaro, a Ocidente, onde segurança era maior. O desenvolvimento da cultura fez-se através da extensão a Timor-Leste do programa Indonésio de intensificação de arroz designado BIMAS. Este introduziu novas variedades, IR64 e Membrano, permitiu a mecanização, através de pequenos tractores e de tracção animal, expandiu a área de irrigação, e disponibilizou um técnico de extensão em cada suco e acesso a crédito, sementes, fertilizantes e pesticidas subsidiados (OXFAM 2004; Fox 2003). A transmigração dos agricultores de outras regiões da Indonésia, especialmente de Bali, foi utilizada como um meio para introduzir as novas tecnologias (Fox 2003). A compra de arroz aos agricultores era garantida através de um preço mínimo ao agricultor e um preço máximo nos mercados locais. Todo o sistema de incentivos à produção de 105 arroz foi-se desmoronando após a crise financeira na Indonésia de 1997, pelo que o sucesso e a permanência no tempo da introdução de algumas destas inovações são questionáveis (Fox 2003). A colheita, a debulha e o descasque continuaram a ser maioritariamente feitos de forma manual, embora a debulha e o descasque mecânico estivessem presentes nalguns distritos. As estimativas da produção de arroz apontam para 28.000 toneladas em 1991, aumentando para quase 37.000 toneladas de paddy em 1998, mas insuficientes para satisfazer as necessidades de consumo, levando à importação de outras províncias da Indonésia (World Bank 2001; PNUD 2002). O consumo de arroz aumentou para valores superiores a 80 Kg per capita (65% do valor observado na Indonésia) devido ao facto dos funcionários da administração e os militares serem agraciados com uma dotação mensal de arroz e à substituição do milho pelo arroz como alimento base das zonas rurais de Timor-Leste pelo arroz. A política de formação de recursos humanos foi muito abrangente, o ensino não formal cobriu os 13 distritos com cursos de tracção, viveiros, adubação, pecuária e pescas, e o ensino formal agrícola estabeleceu escolas em 5 distritos, versando a horticultura, a pecuária, a plantação e tecnologia (Silva 2011). Timor-Leste independente Após 1999, a UNTAET, o governo constitucional através do MAP, as agências bilaterais de cooperação (GTZ, JICA e ACIAR) e as ONGs têm implementado um conjunto de medidas para modernizar a agricultura timorense (ARP I e II) através da reabilitação das infra-estruturas, capacitação dos recursos humanos e criação de centros de extensão rural para difusão de tecnologias. A cultura do arroz foi contemplada neste esforço através de projectos para reconstrução das infra-estruturas de rega, introdução de sementes melhoradas e de novas tecnologias de produção, debulha e descasque mecânico de arroz, armazenamento da produção e comercialização do arroz. Na preparação do terreno a maioria dos agricultores utiliza tractores de mão ou animais (búfalos ou cavalos). Para facilitar a preparação dos terrenos destinados à cultura do arroz, a partir de 2007 o governo importou 350 tractores grandes e 1100 tractores de mão. As sementes utilizadas são as guardadas da colheita anterior, mas o MAP com o apoio do Seeds of Life está a introduzir as variedades IR60819-34-2-1 e PSBRc54 conhecidas por Nakroma e Membrano. A sementeira é realizada por transplantação e ou sementeira directa, esta ao permitir plantar uma maior área é utilizada na presença de escassez de mão-de-obra. A grande maioria dos agricultores não faz monda e quando feita é manual. A colheita continua a ser feita com facas e a cultura cortada fica estendida no chão a secar. A debulha é na maior parte do território manual, sendo que os agricultores com mais possibilidades já possuem máquinas de debulha mecânica que utilizam também para alugar a outros agricultores a troco do pagamento de uma percentagem da produção. O armazenamento da cultura é em cestos tradicionais, tendo o uso de tambores de metal sido divulgado e apoiado por diversas instituições. Com o fim do sistema de preço garantido e a liberalização da importação, os produtores foram confrontados com preços bastante competitivos para os custos de produção local. O actual governo (IV Governo Constitucional) implementou o programa “Povo Kuda, Governo Sosa” que significa “O povo planta e o governo compra” que contempla a compra do arroz aos agricultores a um preço fixo. A produção de arroz é dominada pelo arroz de várzea. O arroz de sequeiro tem uma importância reduzida nos dias de hoje, ocupando em 2001, cerca de 10% da área (3.417 hectares) e produzindo cerca de 7% do total de arroz (3552 toneladas) estando localizado na sua grande maioria no distrito de Lautem (PNUD 2002). A área potencial para a cultura do arroz, cerca de 74.000 hectares, é dominada pelos distritos de Baucau, Manatuto, Viqueque e Bobonaro. A taxa média de utilização da área potencial é de 61,2% e depende muito da preservação/recuperação/ construção das infra-estruturas de irrigação. A percentagem de famílias a produzir arroz é de 31,3 %, apresentando Viqueque, Baucau e Manatuto valores superiores a 50% (MAP 2008). Para os cerca de 45.000 ha cultivados e uma produção de 77.500 toneladas, os distritos de Bobonaro, Lautém, Viqueque, Oecusse e Baucau contribuem com cerca de 67% da área e 72% da produção A produção é insuficiente para satisfazer as necessidades do mercado interno já que metade do consumo anual é assegurado pela importação (FAOSTAT 2008; MAP 2009). 106 A produtividade média é baixa, 1,719 toneladas/ha, devido à baixa qualidade da semente, aos métodos de produção muito simples e rudimentares, às pestes e doenças (12% de perdas) e aos roedores (13% de perdas) (PNUD 2006). Cerca de dois terços da produção de arroz é para auto-consumo das famílias, o arroz vendido representava a principal fonte de rendimento das famílias que o cultivavam em 2000 e dois terços dos gastos das famílias iam para alimentação, sendo o arroz o item mais importante (PNUD 2002). O consumo per capita passou de 30 kg em 1970, para 83 Kg em 1998 e 112 kg/capita em 2003 devido às mudanças nos hábitos de consumo dos timorenses e ao rápido crescimento da população (FAOSTAT 2008). Em três décadas, o arroz passou de alimento da elite, das cerimónias e ocasiões especiais e dos povos das várzeas, para alimento base de toda a população, em substituição do milho e dos tubérculos. A comparação da tecnologia tradicional (2500 kg/ha) com a melhorada (4500 kg/ha) permite concluir que: os níveis de utilização de mão-de-obra, a diferença nos custos variáveis se deve a uma maior utilização de factores de produção modernos (sementes, fertilizantes e pesticidas), o acréscimo de custos na tecnologia melhorada é largamente compensado pela maior produtividade, sendo o lucro cerca de 3,5 vezes mais elevado e a remuneração da mão-de-obra familiar 3 vezes superior, 2,88 USD/dia e 8,90 USD/dia, respectivamente (Direcção do Agro-Negócio 2008). A grande maioria do arroz cultivado em Timor-Leste utiliza uma tecnologia tradicional com uma produtividade média é 1719 Kg/hectare, pelo que os níveis de remuneração da mão-de-obra familiar utilizada na cultura são inferiores a 2,88 USD/dia. A política de formação de recursos humanos procura ser muito abrangente, o ensino não formal cobre os 13 distritos com uma oferta de cursos em que sobressai a tracção, os viveiros, a adubação, a pecuária, a gestão agrícola e as pescas, e o ensino formal agrícola tem escolas em 5 distritos versando a horticultura, a pecuária, a plantação, a tecnologia e a piscicultura. A higiene e segurança no trabalho agrícola, aspecto fundamental do bem-estar dos agricultores e trabalhadores agrícolas, foi um aspecto descurado durante a colonização portuguesa e a ocupação Indonésia. Nos dias de hoje começa a ser uma prioridade do MAP, principalmente com o fomento da tracção mecânica e da utilização dos produtos químicos. A diversidade das tarefas desempenhadas pelos agricultores de Timor-Leste, em que não existe especialização, exige uma formação bastante abrangente. Resultados e conclusões do inquérito A grande maioria dos agricultores entrevistados pertence ao sexo masculino e não tem nenhum nível de escolaridade, 39,6% tem mais de 5 filhos e 89,6% só trabalham no sector agrícola. A maioria dos agricultores, 91,7%, trabalha mais de 8 horas por dia, sendo que 63,5% trabalham doze horas por dia. A cultura do arroz é feita maioritariamente em terrenos que são propriedade dos agricultores, própria e individual, a área média das explorações é 3,28 ha, mas as pequenas explorações (<= 2 ha) dominam (66,7%). A grande maioria dos agricultores cultiva arroz há mais de 11 anos, sendo que 33,3% há mais de 35 anos. Tecnologia de produção Na utilização de factores de produção para melhorar a produção de arroz, 41,7% dos agricultores utilizam pesticidas, 40,6% fertilizantes, 33,3% sementes melhoradas e 30,2% estrumes. Os pesticidas e fertilizantes são comprados maioritariamente nas lojas e também fornecidos pelo MAP enquanto as sementes são fornecidas pelo MAP e ONGs. O gasto dos agricultores na compra de factores de produção é em 64,6% dos agricultores inferior a 50 USD/ha. A grande maioria dos agricultores refere a utilização de mais de uma variedade de arroz, sendo as variedades mais cultivadas a local (70,8%) e a IR-64 (68,8%). Na plantação são utilizados viveiros pela maioria dos agricultores (95,8%), neste caso o plantio é feito com (55,2%) e sem linhas (26%), embora 15,6% dos agricultores referem que ainda deitam as sementes directamente ao solo. O modo de preparação do terreno do arrozal é dominado pelo tractor de mão (83,3%), búfalos (52,1%), cavalos (24%) e tractor grande (2,1%). A maioria dos agricultores (53,1%) utiliza mais de um 107 meio de preparação do terreno, sendo as combinações mais utilizadas o tractor de mão e o búfalo (33,3%) e o tractor de mão e o cavalo (9,4%). Os tractores e animais utilizados como tracção são propriedade própria (38,5%) ou pertencem aos vizinhos (61,5%), estes são alugados com o pagamento em dinheiro (64,4%) e produção de arroz (35,6%). A maior parte do arroz cultivado (91,7%) é irrigado por nascentes e ribeiras e apenas 8,3% é cultivado só com a água das chuvas. A colheita do arroz é manual já que todos os agricultores utilizam facas. A debulha do arroz é referida por 12,5% dos agricultores só como manual, por 30,2% só como mecânica e 57,3% dos agricultores utilizam ambos os meios. O descasque só manual é referido por 14,6% dos agricultores, unicamente mecânico por 38,5% enquanto 46,9% dizem utilizar ambos os meios. Os agricultores acreditam que a produção de arroz é influenciada negativamente pelas: doenças das plantas (94,8%), grama (93,8%), aves e os animais (92,8%), seca (91,7%), excesso de água (80,2%) e vento (11,5%). A combinação mais frequente, referida por 66,7% dos agricultores, foi a grama, excesso de água, seca, aves e animais e doença das plantas. Comercialização e rendimento A grande maioria dos agricultores (91,7%) guarda uma parte da produção de arroz para consumo da família enquanto 41,7% dos agricultores vendem arroz para o mercado, maioritariamente nos mercados locais e sem casca (53,4%). O transporte para o mercado é por carro (63,5%), manual (24%) e a cavalo (8,3%). O preço médio de venda por Kg é de 0,318 USD para o arroz com casca e de 0,4513 USD para o arroz sem casca. As fontes de informação sobre o preço do arroz são dominadas por familiares e amigos (63,5%) e o MAP (55,3%). A receita anual de venda de arroz por classes de rendimento mostra que 29,2% tem rendimento por ano inferior a 100 USD, 38,5% tem rendimento entre 100 USD e 200 USD e 32,3% tem rendimento maior que 200 USD. Na produção e comercialização de arroz os agricultores referem como grandes obstáculos o preço elevado dos inputs e do transporte, o preço de venda baixo e procura reduzida e um difícil acesso aos mercados. Apoio técnico e adopção de novas tecnologias Dos agricultores inquiridos, 92,7%, mostraram desejo em acompanhar o desenvolvimento de nova tecnologia para o processo de produção de arroz. De entre as tecnologias desejadas pelos agricultores, 95,8% referem tractores de mão, 45,8% referem tractores grandes, 29,2% referem máquinas de colheita, 77,1% referem máquinas debulha e 77,1% referem máquinas descascadoras. Sobre a proveniência das informações sobre as tecnologias: 93,8% referem MAP, 63,5% de reunião grupos de agricultores, 60,4% de ONG internacional, 52,1% de ONG local, 46,9% de vizinhos, 47,9% de rádio, 18,8% de televisão e 11,5% jornal. Cerca de 52,1% dos agricultores referem que receberam apoio técnico para melhorar a produção de arroz, maioritariamente do MAP (82,6%), ONG internacional (50%), Universidade (29,6%) ONG local (27,8%) e Banco Mundial (24,1%). Em relação à participação em acções de formação para melhorar a produção de arroz, 40,6% dos agricultores referem a sua participação, essencialmente em cursos de viveiros e plantação em linha. Higiene e segurança no trabalho na cultura do arroz Dos agricultores inquiridos, cerca de 58,3% dos agricultores respondeu que não existe condições de trabalho seguras no exercício da actividade agrícola. Para além de não existir legislação na área higiene e segurança no trabalho (HST) para o sector agrícola nem de informação e formação sobre os riscos e medidas de higiene e segurança nos trabalhos agrícola (HSTA), não existe protecção nos órgãos das máquinas em movimento, os tractores não têm cabine ou aro de segurança, os agricultores não utilizam equipamento de protecção no manuseamento dos produtos tóxicos e não têm cuidados especiais no contacto com animais. Somente 49,0% dos agricultores tem conhecimento da postura corporal mais correcta para os diferentes trabalhos nos arrozais. 108 A maioria dos agricultores (94,8%) refere que é frequente ocorrerem acidentes de trabalho, e 57,3% teve acidentes no trabalho uma vez por semana, 32,3% uma vez por mês e 9,4% duas vezes por ano. Os acidentes de trabalho estão relacionados com a utilização dos búfalos (62,7%), de tractores e máquinas agrícolas (50,0%), de pesticidas (17,7%) e de utensílios agrícolas (7,3%) e apresentam pouca gravidade (68,8%). Somente 31,3% dos agricultores tiveram formação sobre prevenção de acidentes de trabalho na várzea, destes 60% tiveram formação em tractores e 26,7% na utilização de pesticidas, dadas pelo MAP (89,2%) e por ONG internacionais (40,5%). Comparação Portugal, Indonésia e Timor-Leste A área média de arroz cultivada em cada período é bastante semelhante assim como a distribuição dos agricultores por classes de área. A produção de arroz aumentou desde o tempo português (101,5 latas) até ao de Timor-Leste (209,2 latas). Em relação à tecnologia de produção, os respondentes (94,8%) identificaram diferenças entre os períodos em comparação. O sistema de plantação de arroz dominante no tempo português era deitar sementes à terra, no período Indonésio os viveiros e deitar sementes à terra e no período de Timor-Leste os viveiros. No tempo português o sistema de preparação do solo era com búfalos, no tempo indonésio aparecem os tractores de mão e no tempo de Timor-Leste para além dos tractores de mão, os tractores grandes. A colheita do arroz, manual nos três períodos, não teve alterações. A debulha e o descasque tiveram uma evolução de manual (Português) para mecânica (Timor-Leste). Os agricultores valorizam de forma crescente a qualidade do arroz produzido desde o tempo português até o tempo de Timor-Leste. Os agricultores que guardam arroz para auto consumo aumentaram desde o tempo português (70,8%) até o tempo de Timor-Leste (91,7%) enquanto o número de agricultores que venderam arroz no mercado aumentaram de 29,2%, para 36,5% no tempo Indonésio e para 41,7% no tempo de TimorLeste. No tempo português as vendas eram feitas no mercado local e na loja com transporte pedestre e a cavalo, no tempo indonésio no mercado local e na cooperativa com transporte pedestre, a cavalo e rodoviário e no tempo de Timor-Leste no mercado local com transporte rodoviário. A ordenação do preço recebido pelo arroz mostra que a maioria dos agricultores pôs o tempo de Timor-Leste em primeiro lugar, seguido do tempo português e do tempo indonésio. A assistência técnica aos produtores de arroz, muito maior no tempo de Timor-Leste (52,1%) do que no tempo Português (3,1%) e Indonésio (22,9%), é fornecida maioritariamente pelo Estado e ONGs e destina-se às operações culturais do arroz. A grande questão que se coloca é se existe coordenação entre as diferentes instituições e se o conhecimento transmitido aos agricultores é retido pelos técnicos nacionais, pois são eles que permanecerão no terreno de uma forma continuada. A participação dos agricultores em acções de formação formal ou informal, é nula no tempo português, baixa no tempo indonésio (13,5%) e aceitável no tempo de Timor-Leste (40,6%), dirigindose aquela fundamentalmente para a plantação de arroz. Bibliografia Andrade, Alfredo da Costa e 1907, ‘Distrito Autónomo de Timor e Instituto Botânico de Buitenzorg’, Conferencia na Sociedade de Geografia de Lisboa em 13 de Maio de 1907, SGL. Brito, Raquel Soeiro de 1971, ‘Ocupação do Solo no Timor Português’, Geographica, ano VII, Lisboa, Sociedade de Geografia, 27, Julho, pp. 1-28. Calapez, J. 1972, Estratégia para o desenvolvimento económico de Timor, Dissertação de licenciatura, UTL/ISCSPU, Lisboa. Direcção do Agro-Negócio 2008, Rice Overview, Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas - MAP, Díli. Duarte, Teófilo 1930, Timor (Antecâmara do Inferno?!, Famalicão, Tip. “Minerva” de Gaspar Pinto de Sousa & Irmão. FAOSTAT 2008, Agricultural statistics, FAO Rome. Figueiredo, Fernando 2004, Timor a presença Portuguesa: 1769-1945, Dissertação de Doutoramento em História, Faculdade de Letras, Universidade do Porto. Fox, J. J. 2003, ‘Drawing from the past to prepare for the future: Responding to the challenges of food security 109 in East Timor’ in Hélder da Costa, Colin Piggin, Cesar J. da Cruz and James Fox (eds) Agriculture: New Directions for a new Nation – East Timor (Timor-Leste), Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, Canberra, pp. 101-110. Magro, António Jacinto 1943, ‘Timor. Um Pouco da sua História e Aspectos da Sua Vida’, Boletim da Sociedade de Geografia de Lisboa, 61ª série, Lisboa (1-2): 65-105. (MAP) Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas 2009, Estatísticas agrícolas, Direcção de Culturas Industriais e Agro negócio, Díli. OXFAM 2004, Overview of the rice sector in Timor-Leste, Díli, Timor-Leste. PNUD 2002, Relatório de Desenvolvimento Humano. Díli. ---2006, Relatório de Desenvolvimento Humano Timor-Leste, Díli. Reis, L. M. M. S. 2000, Timor-Leste, 1953-1975: O Desenvolvimento Agrícola na Última Fase da Colonização Portuguesa, Dissertação Apresentada no Instituto Superior de Agronomia para efeitos de obtenção do grau de Mestre. ISA, UTL, Lisboa. Roxo, José Vaz da Costa 1914. ‘A Cultura de Arroz’, Boletim de Comercio Agricultura e Fomento ano III Díli Imprensa Nacional, 7: 477-497. Silva, Jorge Manuel Freitas da 2011, Desenvolvimento e recursos humanos no sector da orizicultura no distrito de Baucau em Timor-Leste, Tese de Mestrado em Gestão, Universidade de Évora. Silva, Júlio Celestino Montalvão e 1910, A mão d’Obra em Timor: Breve Memória sobre o seu Território, Clima, Produção, Usos e Costumes Indígenas, Indústria, Agricultura e Comércio, Lisboa, Typ. A Editora. Tomás, Luís Filipe R. 1973, ‘Vida Rural Timorense’, Geographica, ano IX, Lisboa, Sociedade de Geografia, 33: 3-26 World Bank 2001, Annex 1: Rice Production, Consumption and Markets an Overview, Díli. 110 16 O impacto do desempenho da Cooperativa Café Timor na satisfação e qualidade de vida dos seus membros Carlos da Conceição de Deus,1 Pedro Henriques2 Fátima Jorge,3 Vanda Narciso4 …Por outro lado, o feliz aparecimento de um cafeeiro resistente à ferrugem, produzindo um café semelhante ao café Arábica, localmente designado por “Moka”, e a sua progressiva difusão, já em larga escala a partir de 1956, ajudou a manter o prestígio comercial do café timorense nalguns mercados europeus, nomeadamente o dinamarquês e o holandês. Tal cafeeiro, designado por «Híbrido de Timor», um tetraplóide com 2n, 44 cromossomas, supõe-se resultante do cruzamento natural do Coffea arabica L. com Coffea canephora P. O exemplar original do “Híbrido de Timor” encontra-se numa plantação de Coffea arabica L., variedade típica, designada por «Mata Nova», na Feitoria de Fatu Bessi, estabelecida em 1917-1918, a 800 m de altitude, no concelho de Ermera (Ferreira et al. 1972). Introdução A cultura do café em Timor-Leste iniciou-se no período colonial português, onde ganhou importância fundamental na sua economia, permaneceu como uma das principais culturas de rendimento durante a ocupação Indonésia do território e no período pós independência ganhou um papel motor para dinamizar o desenvolvimento das zonas rurais com implantação cafeícola. O café foi introduzido em Timor em meados do século XVIII e as primeiras plantações foram estabelecidas na primeira década do século XIX, mas é somente a partir do último quartel daquele século que a cultura se desenvolve, ganha importância como cultura de rendimento para os agricultores e ao dominar as exportações de Timor torna-se a sua verdadeira moeda externa. Os diversos governos coloniais portugueses dinamizaram a sua cultura através da construção de viveiros e da distribuição de plantas, da obrigatoriedade da sua plantação, da construção de estações de benefício e da criação de serviços de apoio e experimentais. A estrutura da produção era dominada pelos pequenos produtores com dimensões entre 1 e 2 ha enquanto os produtores com áreas de plantação significativas eram em número bastante reduzido. A comercialização interna e a exportação eram dominadas pelos intermediários de etnia chinesa e europeia, muitas vezes criticados por praticarem preços muito baixos na compra aos produtores de café. Inicialmente a variedade cultivada era a típica da espécie arábica, mas com o surgimento da ferrugem no final do século XIX, foi introduzida a espécie libérica e no princípio do século XX a robusta. A excelente qualidade do café arábica que Timor produzia, em termos de aroma, qualidade e composição química, permitiu-lhe atingir desde meados do século XIX fama excepcional em vários mercados, beneficiando, por isso, o seu preço de uma majoração. Na primeira metade do século XX, um acaso da natureza ocorreu em Timor, o improvável cruzamento entre a espécie robusta (22 cromossomas e resistente à ferrugem) e a arábica (44 cromossomas e café de grande qualidade) deu origem ao híbrido de Timor. Foi a partir deste híbrido, disponibilizado por Timor ao mundo em 1956, que todas as variedades existentes da espécie arábica resistentes à ferrugem foram obtidas. A melhor tecnologia de transformação do café cereja em café verde, a via húmida, já aplicada no princípio do século XX no território, é dinamizada pelos diversos governadores coloniais por ser aquela que conduz a uma qualidade superior do café a que se juntaria o descasque mecânico e a selecção e classificação do café destinado à exportação. 1 Departamento Agro Economia, Universidade Nacional de Timor Lorosa’e. CEFAGE e Departamento de Economia - Universidade de Évora. 3 Departamento de Gestão - Universidade de Évora. 4 Investigadora independente. 2 111 Após a ocupação do território pela Indonésia em 1975, a produção de café continuou a ser a principal actividade de rendimento e de trocas com o exterior. No entanto, houve pouco interesse em manter ou desenvolver práticas de cultivo, ou mesmo em contribuir com qualquer tipo de retorno de capital para a cultura. O único interesse era extrair rendimento através da quantidade de café colhida, vendida a um preço barato. A comercialização interna e a exportação de café eram dominadas em regime de monopólio por empresas Indonésias, que praticavam preços reduzidos e cujos lucros ajudaram muitas vezes a financiar a guerra de ocupação. É somente em meados da década de 90 que aquele monopólio é quebrado, pelo surgimento da National Cooperative Business Association (NCBA) na transformação e comercialização do café, levando a um aumento do rendimento dos produtores de café. No que diz respeito à indústria do café durante o período indonésio, podemos dizer que em geral o principal legado foi a diminuição do interesse no cultivo do café entre os timorenses já que os agricultores actuando como guardiões das plantações, colhiam simplesmente o café a partir das antigas grandes plantações, bem como das suas próprias pequenas explorações. Com a consolidação do período de transição e com a restauração da independência, a estrutura de produção de café cereja manteve-se, mas outros intervenientes entraram no mercado de compra de café aos agricultores dos quais destacamos a Cooperativa Café Timor (CCT), Timor Global, Timorcorp, ELSAA Café, Always Café e ONGs. Do ponto de vista da produção, o Ministério da Agricultura em paralelo com ONGs e agências internacionais de apoio ao desenvolvimento têm dinamizado a reconversão dos cafezais, a reintrodução de práticas culturais e a melhoria da tecnologia de transformação do café cereja em café pergaminho.Não contabilizando os produtos petrolíferos, a cultura do café continua a ter nos dias de hoje um papel relevante no rendimento do sector agrícola e nas exportações. Podemos dizer que desde meados do século XIX que a cultura do café é o produto principal da sua economia, cuja cultura em Timor é muito mais um processo florestal que pomícola (Silva 1957). Se juntarmos à natureza florestal do café de Timor a falta de atenção dada às plantações, a sua produção é natural, de padrão biológico. Existe consenso que os dois principais problemas da produção de café são a produtividade baixa e a baixa qualidade. Todos os intervenientes do sector do café reconhecem que existe muito potencial para a produção de café de alta qualidade e para aumentos de produtividade. Para além deste dois problemas, consideramos que existe uma desigualdade na repartição dos rendimentos gerados pelo café pelos diferentes intervenientes da sua cadeia de valor. Esta desigualdade não é um problema pós independência, pois já era referida no tempo colonial português e foi uma marca da ocupação Indonésia. O objectivo deste artigo é analisar o papel da CCT na melhoria do bem-estar dos seus membros, os agricultores produtores de café. Produção, comercialização e importância do café As duas espécies de café que permaneceram no território ao longo do tempo, arábica e robusta, aproveitam as diferentes altitudes do território e contribuem com 86% e 14 % da produção, respectivamente (Wahjudi 2009). A tecnologia de produção do café cereja em Timor-Leste, para além das plantações, ferramentas agrícolas e material de apanha, utiliza poucos ou quase nenhuns factores de produção. Assim, os agricultores, na grande maioria, não fazem poda, não limpam os cafezais, não controlam as pestes e as doenças e não fazem a substituição das plantas velhas. Os agricultores limitam-se a colher o café das plantações existentes. O único factor de produção variável utilizado é a mão-de-obra familiar, em que a colheita domina com cerca de 55,2% do total. Os principais problemas da produção de café cereja são de ordem técnica destacando-se as lacunas no maneio das plantações de café, uma baixa qualidade da colheita e as pestes e doenças que afectam quer as plantas de café quer as árvores de sombreamento. Wahjudi (2009) refere que cerca de 40 % de café de Timor-Leste é de baixa qualidade devido a uma colheita efectuada precocemente por os agricultores precisarem de dinheiro para as suas necessidades. 112 O café cereja é transformado em café pergaminho e este em café verde que se destina maioritariamente à exportação. Uma pequena parte da produção de café é vendida no mercado interno como café verde ou torrado. Os circuitos económicos do café estão presentes no diagrama 1. O café cereja é vendido às empresas agro-industriais que utilizam a via húmida para o transformar em café pergaminho e depois em café verde para exportação. As empresas que se dedicam ao processamento de café cereja, CCT, ELSAA cafés e Timor Global, só compram café cereja aos agricultores, começando esta em Março e prolongando-se até Agosto. O café cereja que não é vendido às empresas agro-industriais ou que é apanhado depois de Agosto é transformado pelos próprios agricultores em café pergaminho. Este é vendido aos comerciantes intermediários, às ONGs, ou às empresas agro-industriais que se dedicam somente à transformação de café pergaminho em café verde para exportação. O café pergaminho que não é vendido, é transformado pelos agricultores em café verde, o qual é autoconsumido pelo agregado familiar ou vendido nos mercados locais na época da chuva para fazer face à falta de rendimento para comprar alimentos. Diagrama 4.1 – Circuitos económicos do café produzido pelos agricultores Produção de café cereja para venda Produção de café pergaminho para venda Produção de café verde para autoconsumo e venda local Fonte: Deus 2011 A tecnologia de transformação do café verde em café pergaminho pelos agricultores é variável, podem utilizar uma via seca (café é posto a secar com polpa), uma via húmida mitigada (depois da despolpa fermentam o café em cestos tradicionais) ou quando as infra-estruturas existem uma via húmida completa. A utilização simultânea destas técnicas conduz a uma grande variabilidade na qualidade do café pergaminho produzido pelos agricultores. Na produção de café pergaminho as empresas utilizam somente a vida húmida. Se em 2002, cerca de 75% do café era produzido pela via seca e o restante por via húmida essencialmente feito pela CCT (OXFAM 2003), nos dias de hoje este rácio inverteu-se, devido à instalação de novas empresas e recuperação e construção de estações de benefício. Na transformação do café pergaminho em café verde a maioria das empresas agro-industriais utiliza equipamento mecânico enquanto nas zonas rurais é utilizada a tecnologia do pilão ou almofariz. A torrefacção do café verde para abastecer o mercado interno é maioritariamente manual nas zonas rurais, enquanto em Díli existem torrefacções industriais (ex. CCT). O café é cultivado na maioria dos 13 distritos de Timor-Leste e contribui com 10% para o PIB agrícola. A produção, área ocupada e percentagem de famílias produtoras são apresentadas na Tabela 1. 113 Tabela 1 - Famílias, área, produção e produtividade em 2006 Distrito Ermera Manufahi Liquiça Ainaro Outros Distritos Timor-Leste % famílias a Área total % área total produzir café Hectares 84,8 59,6 65,8 72,1 19,6 34,2 29225 7310 6756 5024 3674 51989 56,2 14,1 13,0 9,7 7,1 100,0 Produção total Toneladas 5372 1687 1244 1191 628 10122 % da produção total 53,1 16,7 12,3 11,8 6,2 100,0 Produtividade Kg/hectare 184 231 184 237 171 195 Fonte: Ministério da Agricultura, Pesca e Floresta 2006 Para a área média de café por família (0,78 ha) e a produtividade média (195kg/ha de café verde), a margem bruta estimada é de 338,1USD/ha e o rendimento anual por família de 264 USD. Este rendimento anual equivale a 0,72 USD por dia, valor inferior à linha da pobreza definida para TimorLeste, 0,78 USD por dia (Guterres 2010; Direcção do Agronegócio 2008). O rendimento do café contribui para 90% do rendimento monetário das famílias e é um recurso fundamental para obter os bens alimentares e não alimentares (OXFAM 2003). Muitos cafezais são velhos e quase improdutivos, cerca 56% da área total de café em 2006 (MAP 2009), devendo a sua reconversão ser uma prioridade da política agrícola. A replantação de novos cafezais (1350 ha em 2006 ou 2,6% da área) deverá ser incentivada, pois a sua rendibilidade, medida pela TIR, é superior a 15% para a variedade arábica típica (com contra safra na produção) e cerca de 30% para a variedade híbrido de Timor sem contra safra na produção (Henriques 2010). Em 2008, a produção rondou as 14000 ton, a exportação as 12500 ton e o consumo interno as 1500 ton. (DNPIA 2009). A exportação de café é feita pelas grandes empresas exportadoras. Os principais destinos de exportação, em 2005, foram os EUA (43,6%), Alemanha (29,4%), Indonésia (12,6%), Portugal (6,7%) e Austrália (3,4%) (Direcção de Agronegócio 2008). Timor-Leste é um país pequeno em termos da produção e do consumo mundial pelo que é um tomador de preço e desde sempre que o preço pago à produção local tem reflectido as variações no preço mundial. Tal como no período colonial português e durante a ocupação indonésia, a exportação de café está hoje concentrada num número reduzido de empresas. O mercado de venda do café cereja e do café pergaminho é do tipo oligopsónio, os produtores são controlados pelos compradores, sem qualquer tipo de regulação. Parece também não existir uma informação clara e transparente sobre os preços do café recebidos por parte das empresas exportadoras. Neste contexto, é questionável se os preços pagos aos produtores são os mais justos, dado que a capacidade de negociação dos pequenos produtores é relativamente pequena ou nula. A agro-indústria do café emprega um número significativo de trabalhadores permanentes e sazonais, estimados em cerca de 11000 em 2001, mas superior nos dias de hoje devido à entrada das empresas Timor Global, Timorcorp LTD, ELSAA café, Always Café. Para além disso, no seu programa de saúde rural a CCT possui dez clínicas fixas e 27 clínicas móveis e apoia duas instituições académicas o Institute of Business (IOB) e a Academia Café Timor (ETICA) (CCT 2010). Metodologia O trabalho utilizou dados primários baseados em inquéritos por questionário aos produtores de café e dados secundários através da análise documental, em que a experiência e o conhecimento do terreno pelos autores foi factor determinante para o trabalho desenvolvido. O inquérito por questionário foi realizado no Distrito de Ermera, sub-distrito Letefoho, onde foram entrevistados 86 agricultores, seleccionados por conveniência, dos sucos de Ducurai e Haupu pertencentes a uma Cooperativa de Café Orgânico (CCO), associada da CCT. Para analisar os dados recolhidos foram utilizadas técnicas de estatística descritiva e multivariada, com o propósito de validar as hipóteses formuladas para o trabalho e descritas no ponto seguinte. 114 Resultados e Conclusões Na região em estudo predominam as explorações de café da espécie arábica, as plantações são uma mistura entre cafezais novos e velhos sendo estes dominantes, a área média das explorações é de 2 ha e cerca de metade têm uma área inferior a 1 ha. A propriedade da terra pertence aos agricultores e foi obtida através de herança, sendo esta atribuída pelos pais só aos filhos homens. O café cereja colhido pelos agricultores tem dois destinos vendido directamente à CCT ou processado pelos agricultores em café pergaminho e depois vendido a outras empresas ou nos mercados locais. A produção média por agricultor de café cereja é de 745 Kg e de café pergaminho de 435 Kg enquanto a quantidade média de autoconsumo é de 22 Kg. Em termos de produtividade, 40% dos agricultores apresentam valores inferiores à média nacional de 195Kg/ha de café verde. Todo o agregado familiar trabalha nas operações culturais do café, dominando o homem na limpeza e a mulher na colheita. A tecnologia usada pelos agricultores na transformação de café cereja em café pergaminho é a tradicional, a via seca pura ou húmida mitigada. Na transformação do café pergaminho em café verde é usado o pilão ou almofariz. Para a quase totalidade dos agricultores o café é a actividade que proporciona maior rendimento, em média 936 USD, mas 40% dos agricultores recebe em média 334 USD e 46% apresenta um rendimento/ha inferior à média nacional. Este rendimento é gasto principalmente na escola dos filhos e na alimentação. Relativamente aos principais problemas referidos pelos agricultores, os mais graves são a falta de sombra, o preço baixo e dificuldades de acesso aos mercados, seguidos pela falta de operações culturais do café e a baixa produtividade, e por último a comercialização deficiente e os cafezais serem velhos. Estes dados indiciam uma fraca capacidade dos agricultores para terem acesso a informações sobre o preço e mercado; conhecimento sobre poda, colheita do café, e, em geral, como tratar o café; incapacidade para reconverter os cafezais velhos; e níveis baixos de bem-estar, conforto e qualidade de vida. Para analisar a percepção que os agricultores têm dos seus níveis de satisfação e bem-estar foram testadas as hipóteses abaixo indicadas. A satisfação dos cooperantes está positivamente relacionada com o desempenho global da CCO/CCT Das respostas às variáveis presentes na Tabela 2, concluímos que a maioria (>50%) dos agricultores mostram-se satisfeitos com os serviços dos responsáveis da CCO, com os serviços da CCT, com a CCT como empresa e com o preço pago pelo café. É de relevar que alguns agricultores também se mostraram insatisfeitos, principalmente com o preço do café. Tabela 2 – Satisfação dos cooperantes e desempenho da CCO/CCT Variável Satisfação serviços responsáveis CCO Satisfação com os serviços da CCT Satisfação com CCT como empresa Satisfação dos preços do café fornecido pela CCT Resposta 22,1% insatisfeito, 59,3% satisfeitos 15,1% insatisfeito, 64% satisfeito 7,0% insatisfeito, 75,6% satisfeito 44,2% insatisfeito, 46,5% satisfeito 18,6% mais baixo aos dos concorrentes, 80,2% igual do Comparando os preços pagos pela CCT com os outros que os dos concorrentes O grau de satisfação dos membros da cooperativa está positivamente relacionado com os serviços fornecidos pela CCO/CCT Com base na Tabela 3 concluímos que a maioria (>50%) dos agricultores mostraram-se satisfeitos com formação da CCO em colheita de café e com os serviços de enfermagem e ambulatórios. Relativamente aos programas para tratamento e soluções do café e serviços médicos, a maioria das respostas corresponde aos agricultores estarem satisfeitos ou em situação igual. 115 Tabela 3 – Satisfação dos membros da cooperativa e os serviços da CCO/CCT Variável Resposta Satisfeito com formação da CCO em colheita 9,3% insatisfeito, 58,2% satisfeito de café Satisfeito com o programa fornecido pela CCO como curso de formação para 27,9% insatisfeito, 41,9% satisfeito e 30,2% igual tratamento de café Satisfação das soluções oferecido pela CCO 27,9% insatisfeito, 41,9% satisfeito e 30,2% igual ao produto de café Enfermeiro (bom ou muito bom, 80,2%), Ambulatórios Os principais serviços de saúde disponível (bom ou muito bom, 52,6%) e médicos (bom ou muito para os associados da CCT bom, 45,6%). A actividade da CCO/CCT influencia positivamente a qualidade de vida dos membros da CCO/CCT A maioria (>50%) dos agricultores não melhorou a sua qualidade de vida como membro da CCO e a família não foi envolvida em actividades sociais, enquanto reconhecem o contributo das formas de produção e uso do café para a elevação da qualidade de vida (Tabela 4). Neste sentido, a realidade actual indica que a cooperativa ainda não conseguiu realizar o objectivo de melhorar a qualidade de vida dos agricultores. Tabela 4 – A actividade da CCO/CCT e a qualidade de vida Variável Resposta Como membro da CCO melhorou a sua qualidade de vida 22,1% sim, 75,6% não Formas de produção e uso de produto de café elevaram a qualidade de 5,9% discordo, 91,9% concorda vida A CCO preocupa em envolver a família dos cooperado em actividades 4,7% sim, 95,3% não de lazer, assistência social ou educação A participação dos sócios nas tomadas de decisão da CCO/CCT é pequena Concluímos que a maioria (>50%) dos agricultores não é convidado e não participa nas tomadas de decisão da CCO, apesar de a maioria ser membro há bastante tempo e estar satisfeito como tal (Tabela 5). Tabela 5 – Participação dos sócios e tomada de decisão da CCO/CCT Variável Tempo como membro da CCO Satisfeito como membro da CCO Comunicado e convidado a assistir às assembleiasgerais ou reuniões da CCO Participa da tomada de decisões da CCO Resposta Membro há mais de 10 anos 60,5%, entre de 2 e 4 anos 7,0% 22,1% insatisfeito, e 59,3% satisfeitos Nunca 76,7%, às vezes 12,8%, muitas vezes 10,5% 18,6% sim, 81,4% não Em resumo, 59,3% dos agricultores disseram estar satisfeitos por serem membros das CCO/CCT. O nível de satisfação dos agricultores como membros da CCO e pelos serviços fornecidos pela CCT aumenta com a idade, a satisfação com os serviços fornecidos pela CCO, a actividade dos responsáveis da CCO, a formação em colheita de café, a formação em tratamento de café, as soluções para o produto café e a satisfação com o preço do café, os agricultores de Ducurai apresentam maior satisfação que os de Haupu, e diminui à medida que a dimensão das explorações aumenta e com o número de anos de filiação na CCO. Bibliografia Cooperativa Café Timor (CCT) 2010, Sistema de trabalho CCT e NCBA, Díli. Deus, Carlos da Conceição 2011, Impacto do desempenho da Cooperativa Café Timor na satisfação e qualidade de vida dos seus membros, Tese de Mestrado em Gestão da Universidade de Évora. 116 Direcção de Agronegócio (DA) 2008, Commodity Profile for Coffee, Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas, Díli, Timor-Leste. Direcção nacional de plantas industriais e agrocomércio (DNPIA) 2009, Evolução das Culturas Agrícolas, Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas, Díli, Timor-Leste. Ferreira, L. A. B., H. D. Vilar, M. A. C. Fragoso, M. C. Aguiar, M. J. R.Cruz, M. Mayer Gonçalves 1972, Subsídios para a caracterização do grão de café do híbrido de Timor, Junta de Investigações Científicas do Ultramar. Guterres, Verónica da Costa 2010, Comercialização interna e externa de café na empresa de Timorcorp, em Comoro-Timor-Leste, Relatório final do estágio em Ciências Agrárias, Díli. Henriques, P.D. de Sousa 2010, A Rendibilidade da cultura do café, Documento de trabalho, Díli. Ministério da Agricultura, Pescas e Floresta 2006, Linhas Politicas e Estratégicas para Agricultura, Floresta e Pescas, Díli. Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas (MAP) 2009, Estatísticas agrícolas, Direcção de Culturas Industriais e Agro negócio, Díli. OXFAM 2003, Overview of the Coffee Sector in Timor-Leste, editado por TimorAgri, Díli. Silva, Hélder Lains e 1957, Timor e a Cultura do Café, Memórias – Série de Agronomia Tropical, Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, Ministério do Ultramar, Lisboa, Reeditado por TimorAgri, Díli. Wahjudi, Bambang 2009, A Economia do café de Timor-Leste, Gabinete do Ministro do Turismo, Comércio e Indústria, Díli. 117 17 O papel dos sistemas tradicionais de uso da terra no bem-estar das populações rurais de Timor-Leste Pedro Damião de Sousa Henriques,1 Vanda Narciso,2 Manuel Branco3 Introdução Os ecossistemas naturais e seminaturais e os sistemas tradicionais de uso da terra desempenham funções capitais para as populações rurais de Timor-Leste, tanto em termos económicos, como em termos sociais e culturais. Os objectivos deste trabalho são: 1) identificar os diferentes padrões de uso da terra; 2) identificar os bens e serviços que fornecem; e 3) relacionar os serviços produzidos pela terra com o bem-estar das populações rurais de Timor-Leste. O trabalho apresenta um carácter multidisciplinar, incorporando contribuições de várias áreas do conhecimento, baseando-se em fontes documentais, observações directas e entrevistas realizadas em 2003 e 2009 e 2010. Para atingir os objectivos mencionados usamos o enquadramento teórico do Millenium Ecossistem Assessment (MEA 2003), para examinar as questões relacionadas com os bens e serviços produzidos pela terra, e também a Abordagem ao Desenvolvimento Baseada nos Direitos Humanos. Os múltiplos bens e serviços fornecidos pelos diferentes usos da terra constituem recursos essenciais para a maioria da população dos países em desenvolvimento. Para lá do valor económico associado a esses bens e serviços, os serviços da terra têm também elevado valor histórico, cultural e sagrado, os quais não devem ser ignorados. Nesta perspectiva, a terra não deve ser analisada isoladamente, mas sim no seu contexto natural, social, económico e cultural. O reconhecimento do carácter multidimensional dos serviços prestados pela natureza em geral, e pela terra em particular, está no âmago de uma abordagem ao desenvolvimento baseada nos direitos humanos. De acordo com a Organização das Nações Unidas (ONU), uma abordagem ao desenvolvimento baseada nos direitos humanos é uma estrutura conceptual para o processo de desenvolvimento humano que tem por base padrões normativos internacionais de direitos humanos e que é operacionalmente dirigida para a sua promoção e protecção. Na sua essência, uma abordagem baseada nos direitos integra as normas, padrões e princípios do sistema internacional de direitos humanos nos planos, políticas e processos de desenvolvimento. Ou seja, os direitos humanos são, simultaneamente, os meios e as metas de desenvolvimento. Uma das características fundamentais dos direitos humanos é que, sendo indivisíveis, não é possível, nem mesmo aceitável, que os direitos sejam tomados numa base hierárquica. Isto significa que se os serviços prestados pela natureza são tidos como direitos, cada um é tão importante quanto o outro para o bem-estar e para o cumprimento dos objectivos do desenvolvimento. Desenvolvimento torna-se, consequentemente, o resultado de uma conjugação de valores materiais, políticos, culturais e espirituais, nenhum deles sendo descartável em favor dos outros. O desenvolvimento exige, portanto, não só a produção de uma quantidade crescente de bens, de natureza diferente, mas também o cuidar da identidade e da liberdade. Em termos práticos, uma abordagem ao desenvolvimento baseada nos direitos humanos implica que, tanto quanto possível, uma parte do objectivo do desenvolvimento não possa ser alcançada em detrimento da outra. Por exemplo, consideremos que um recurso pode ter conflito de usos para fins económicos e espirituais. Se o primeiro impede o segundo, então não se deve considerar os benefícios de sua utilização apenas como uma adição positiva para o bem-estar das pessoas. De facto, neste caso, é preciso levar em conta tanto a utilidade da exploração de recursos para fins económicos como a 1 CEFAGE e Departamento de Economia da Universidade de Évora – Portugal. Investigadora independente –Portugal. 3 NICPRI e Departamento de Economia da Universidade de Évora – Portugal. 2 118 impossibilidade da sua utilização para outros usos. O conceito de custo de oportunidade é estendido, aqui, a outros domínios, para além da análise económica custo-benefício. É assim de extrema importância não só identificar todos os possíveis usos de recursos naturais, mas também todos os usos em conflito. Os principais padrões de uso da terra em Timor-Leste são os ecossistemas naturais e seminaturais, a agricultura de subsistência, o sagrado, a habitação, as infra-estruturas e a indústria e serviços. Estes padrões de uso produzem um conjunto de bens e serviço essenciais para a sobrevivência e bemestar das populações rurais de Timor-Leste. Serviços dos ecossistemas, bem-estar e desenvolvimento Os bens e serviços produzidos pelos ecossistemas são os “benefícios” produzidos e utilizados, directa ou indirectamente pela população, que contribuem para tornar a vida humana não só possível, como também algo que valha a pena ser vivida. Inclui a utilização humana de produtos da floresta, das zonas húmidas, das zonas costeiras e de outras zonas, assim como os serviços por elas prestados e que são valorizados pelas sociedades humanas, como sejam os serviços culturais, o ciclo dos nutrientes e da água, a formação e conservação do solo, resistência contra espécies invasoras, a polinização de plantas e a regulação climática. Estes bens e serviços podem ser agrupados e classificados de diferentes maneiras, por exemplo o Millennium Ecosystems Assessment (MEA) utiliza 4 categorias: suporte, aprovisionamento, regulação e cultural. As pessoas influenciam e são influenciadas pelos ecossistemas através de múltiplas e complexas conexões. O MEA sublinha as conexões existentes entre os ecossistemas e o bem-estar humano. O bem-estar é um conceito inclusivo, em sentido lato, refere-se a tudo o que é importante para a vida das pessoas, desde os elementos básicos requeridos para a sobrevivência (agua, alimentação, comida) até aos níveis mais altos de realização dos objectivos pessoais e espirituais. De acordo com o MEA as componentes do bem-estar são: os bens materiais para uma vida digna, a segurança, as boas relações sociais e a saúde. Estas quatro componentes contribuem para uma componente final de bemestar designada liberdade de escolha e de acção, ou “desenvolvimento como liberdade” nas palavras de Amartin Sen (MEA 2003; Sen 2000). O bem-estar humano depende de múltiplos, e por vezes inter-relacionados, bens e serviços dos ecossistemas, contribuindo cada um deles para mais do que uma componente do bem-estar. Para além disso, a interconectividade entre as componentes do bem-estar e os bens e serviços produzidos pelos ecossistemas é dinâmica e está dependente do contexto. O bem-estar humano e a redução da pobreza dependem da melhoria da gestão dos ecossistemas, assegurando a sua conservação e uso sustentável. O combate às ameaças ao capital natural do planeta deve ser entendido como fazendo parte do combate à pobreza, sendo uma peça chave para alcançar qualquer um e todos os Objectivos de Desenvolvimento do Milénio. O “desenvolvimento” económico que não considere o seu impacto negativo nos ecossistemas pode decrescer o bem-estar das populações mais vulneráveis, mesmo que outros segmentos da sociedade beneficiem, e assim, não pode ser considerado um caminho para o verdadeiro desenvolvimento. Algumas pessoas são mais vulneráveis à deterioração dos ecossistemas naturais que outras, principalmente as que não possuem os padrões mínimos de bem-estar. As populações rurais pobres dos países em desenvolvimento são desproporcionalmente mais afectadas, porque dependem mais directamente dos recursos e dos bens e serviços que os ecossistemas fornecem. Contudo, as suas vozes têm estado maioritariamente ausentes das discussões políticas e das negociações sobre assuntos ambientais. A deterioração dos ecossistemas naturais é capaz de acentuar as desigualdades e a marginalização dos grupos mais vulneráveis. Padrões de uso da terra em Timor-Leste Os padrões de uso da terra em Timor-Leste estão profundamente ligados à topografia do território, à sua origem geológica, às condições meteorológicas e ainda à influência humana. De um ponto de vista ecológico, a ocupação da terra em Timor-Leste pode ser dividida nas seguintes categorias: zonas montanhosas, planaltos, áreas de planície húmida (ao longo da costa sul), zonas de planície árida (ao longo da costa norte), zonas marinhas e costeiras e as áreas urbanas (RDTL, 2005a). Os dados 119 disponíveis (Tabela 1) mostram que a floresta (57,2%) e a agricultura (27,5%) são os usos da terra mais significativos. Tabela 1 – Categorias de utilização da terra e respectivas áreas Utilização da terra Floresta Terras baixas Terras altas, costeiras e outras Terra arável Culturas de rendimento (plantações) Alimentares e outras Terras não produtivas Áreas urbanas Lagos Total Áreas em Hectares % 761,486 92,768 51.0 6.2 74,578 5.0 336,400 203,152 19,934 5,080 1,493,398 22.5 13.6 1.3 0.3 100.0 Fonte: RDTL 2005a A maior parte da terra agrícola é usada para agricultura tradicional, a qual é a base da vida para a maior parte dos agregados familiares de Timor-Leste. As áreas de agricultura plantação são dominadas pelo café, arábica nas zonas mais altas e robusta nas zonas mais baixas, e coqueiros. A manipulação pelo homem dos ecossistemas naturais em Timor-Leste iniciou-se há cerca de 40,000 atrás, continuou com a chegada dos Portugueses a Lifau no inicio do século XVI e foi dramaticamente acelerada durante os 24 anos de ocupação indonésia do território. A principal modificação nos padrões de uso da terra, devida à presença dos Portugueses foi a exploração intensiva de sândalo até quase à sua extinção, em termos de regeneração natural, no século XIX. A quase extinção do sândalo coincidiu com a introdução da plantação de café, ou seja ao ciclo económico do sândalo sucedeu o ciclo económico do café. A ocupação indonésia do território em 1975 foi caracterizada pela dramática desflorestação, principalmente do pouco sândalo que restava e foi conservado até então e de outras espécies com interesse comercial. Gusmão (2003) relata que durante a ocupação Indonésia, por causa da guerrilha estar baseada na floresta, os programas de reflorestação foram suspensos por razões de segurança e a produção agrícola foi incentivada em zonas florestais, sem preocupações com medidas de conservação do solo. Combinando todos os aspectos referidos anteriormente e as peculiaridades do país em análise, Timor-leste, a Tabela 2 indica os principais padrões de uso da terra, e os usos mais comuns, que foram considerados relevantes para analisar a relação entre os bens e serviços produzidos pelos ecossistemas e o bem-estar das populações. Os dois primeiros padrões de ocupação da terra abrangem a maior parte do território de TimorLeste. O padrão ecossistemas naturais e semi-naturais é utilizado pelas florestas primárias e secundárias, ribeiras, lagos e áreas costeiras, enquanto o padrão agricultura de subsistência inclui as terras para as culturas alimentares, de rendimento, pecuária e aquacultura. A agricultura comercial, em Timor-Leste, identificada com a agricultura das grandes plantações de café e de coqueiros, não é, neste momento, tão relevante como o foi no passado. 120 Tabela 2 – Padrões e tipos de uso da terra em Timor-Leste Padrões de uso Ecossistemas Naturais e seminaturais Agricultura de subsistência Sagrado Habitação Infra-estruturas básicas Indústrias e serviços Tipos de uso Floresta primária e secundária, ribeiras, lagos e áreas costeiras Culturas alimentares, de rendimento, pastagens naturais, pecuária e piscicultura Casas Sagradas, altares, florestas e fontes de água sagradas Habitações rurais e urbanas Igrejas, escolas, hospitais, estradas e serviços públicos Actividades industrias e serviços O terceiro tipo, a terra sagrada, base para as casas, os altares, as florestas e as fontes de água sagradas, é muito importante em Timor-Leste, não em termos de produção de bens materiais ou área ocupada, mas sobretudo em termos dos bens intangíveis que produz. A terra ocupada pela habitação, para além dos aspectos culturais, é essencial porque fornece abrigo às famílias, e as condições de habitação influenciam fortemente o nível de bem-estar. Na mesma linha de pensamento, está o uso da terra para infra-estruturas básicas, tais como igrejas, escolas, hospitais, estradas e serviços públicos. Considerando a história recente de Timor-Leste, principalmente a destruição de casas e infra-estruturas básicas que ocorreu após o referendo de 1999, o bem-estar actual e futuro depende também da sua reconstrução e da quantidade e da qualidade dos bens públicos oferecidos à população. O impacto de alguns factores determinantes na alteração nos padrões de uso da terra, tais como o crescimento populacional, a pressão do mercado sobre a terra e o efeito do crescimento económico, que já estão a acontecer, resultará em um aumento do uso da terra para a agricultura comercial, indústrias e serviços. A maioria destes usos da terra vai exigir uma manipulação significativa dos ecossistemas naturais e semi-naturais, que muitas vezes resulta numa conversão permanente do ecossistema original. Padrões de uso da terra, serviços dos ecossistemas e componentes do bem-estar Os padrões de uso da terra para Timor-Leste considerados neste trabalho são: ecossistemas naturais e semi-naturais, agricultura de subsistência, o sagrado e a habitação. As ligações entre os padrões e tipos de uso, os bens e serviços produzidos e as componentes do bem-estar em Timor-Leste são apresentadas na Tabela 3. Tabela 3 - Ligações entre os padrões e tipos de uso, os bens e serviços produzidos e as componentes do bem-estar em Timor-Leste Padrões e tipos de uso Florestas Áreas Costeiras Bens e services Classificação dos Componentes do bem-estar bens e serviços (MEA) (MEA) Aprovisionamento Bens materiais para uma vida digna; saúde Madeira de várias espécies, produtos nãomadeireiros, plantas medicinais, produtos alimentares de origem vegetal e animal, oportunidades de recreação e turismo Protecção das bacias hidrográficas e Regulação e regulação de cheias, purificação e suporte abastecimento de água para consumo doméstico e irrigação agrícola, controle da degradação e tratamento de resíduos, formação e estabilização do solo e controle de erosão, ciclo dos nutrientes, produção primária, abrigo e viveiro para a fauna e a flora silvestre Peixes e plantas aquáticas, actividades Aprovisionamento recreativas ligadas à pesca e mergulho Bens materiais para uma vida digna; segurança Bens materiais para uma vida digna; 121 Florestas e Sentido de liberdade, oportunidades Cultural Segurança, boas relações sociais áraes costeiras inspiracionais, estéticas, espirituais e educacionais Agricultura de Culturas alimentares e de rendimento, gado Aprovisionamento Bens materiais para uma vida subsistência e aquacultura digna; segurança, saúde, boas relações sociais Espaços sagrados, espécies totémicas, Sagrado Cultural, Segurança, boas relações sociais, inspiração, sentido de identidade e de regulação e saúde, bens materiais para uma pertença, padrões de assentamento, aprovisionamento vida digna; alianças familiares, regras e instituições comunitárias de uso e gestão, tradições culturais e espirituais Habitação Local de abrigo, para desfrutar de Cultural e Bens materiais para uma vida privacidade, para comer, para dormir, para aprovisionamento digna; saúde e segurança manter os bens, oportunidade para expressar a cultura e a identidade Os bens produzidos com maior relevo no curto prazo para a população de Timor-Leste são os classificados como de aprovisionamento, entre os quais os alimentares, as matérias-primas, os recursos genéticos e medicinais e os recursos ornamentais. A grande maioria destes bens é produzida pela agricultura de subsistência, pela floresta e pelas áreas costeiras e contribuem essencialmente para as componentes do bem-estar designadas por bens materiais para uma vida digna e saúde. Entre os bens alimentares, incluímos os obtidos através da caça, da pesca, da recolecção de espécies silvestres e da agricultura de subsistência; nas matérias-primas, os materiais de construção, a lenha para consumo doméstico, as forragens para os animais e os fertilizantes naturais para as culturas; nos recursos genéticos e medicinais, as muitas espécies silvestres utilizadas na prevenção e na cura de muitas doenças, através da medicina tradicional timorense; e nos recursos ornamentais, os materiais utilizados para o artesanato produzido nas diferentes regiões. Os bens e serviços de regulação e suporte, incluem entre outros a protecção das bacias hidrográficas e regulação de cheias, purificação e abastecimento de água para consumo doméstico e irrigação agrícola, controle da degradação e tratamento de resíduos, formação e estabilização do solo e controle de erosão, ciclo dos nutrientes, produção primária, abrigo e viveiro para a fauna e a flora silvestre. Estes bens e serviços, fornecidos essencialmente pelas florestas, desempenham um papel essencial para a componente do bem-estar segurança, contribuindo igualmente para a componente bens materiais para uma vida digna. Para a maioria dos timorenses, a terra é o centro da espiritualidade. As áreas consideradas sagradas podem variar de algumas árvores a uma cadeia de montanhas, e os seus limites podem não ser fixos. Não existe uma estimativa da área ocupada pelas terras sagradas, mas ela está distribuída um pouco por todo o país. A terra sagrada fornece bens e serviços classificados como de regulação e aprovisionamento, por exemplo, através da conservação de fontes de água ou florestas, que são ecologicamente úteis para manter os fluxos hídricos, a biodiversidade e para evitar a erosão. Mas, mais importante, a terra sagrada fornece serviços culturais, tais como espécies totémicas, sentido de identidade e de pertença, padrões de assentamento e de aliança e a passagem de conhecimentos entre gerações. Os serviços culturais podem ser considerados a maior contribuição da terra sagrada para o bemestar, entre outras razões, porque são únicos, sem substitutos e são complementares de outros bens. Os serviços culturais contribuem para todas as componentes do bem-estar, sendo de destacar os contributos para as componentes boas relações sociais e segurança. Notas Finais A terra desempenha um papel crucial no desenvolvimento das zonas rurais em Timor-Leste e no caminho para alcançar um maior nível de bem-estar. A diversidade e a complexidade da matriz cultural têm sido determinante para os padrões de uso da terra observados no país. Esta matriz cultural é também um elemento fundamental na construção da nação e, portanto, para alcançar o desenvolvimento. 122 Este artigo destacou algumas das relações entre os padrões de uso da terra e o bem-estar da população de Timor-Leste, através da identificação dos serviços prestados pelos usos da terra e as suas contribuições para os constituintes do bem-estar. O objectivo foi ilustrar o papel da terra para, simultaneamente, melhorar o bem-estar das populações e manter os ecossistemas vitais em TimorLeste. Devido à cosmologia e à forte dependência de recursos naturais, o povo de Timor-Leste estabeleceu uma relação muito estreita e holística com a natureza, que lhe fornece bens e serviços essenciais como a água, a terra, os alimentos, a lenha, os materiais de construção e o enriquecimento espiritual. Assim, a terra fornece à população benefícios não só económicos, mas também importantes serviços culturais e desempenha um papel central para o bem-estar das famílias e das comunidades. Devemos salientar que a liberdade cultural se torna um objectivo de desenvolvimento em si mesmo dentro de uma abordagem ao desenvolvimento baseada nos direitos humanos. Nesta perspectiva a luta pela libertação da ocupação Indonésia pode ser encarada como uma forma de expressar a identidade cultural e um pré requisito para o desenvolvimento económico, social e cultural, todos essenciais para alcançar a liberdade de escolha e de acção. A terra significa muito mais que dinheiro para as pessoas de Timor-Leste. Esta pesquisa reconhece o papel essencial que a terra desempenha no desenvolvimento das zonas rurais de TimorLeste, e valoriza a necessidade e de se ter em mente que muitos dos bens e serviços que contribuem para o bem-estar das pessoas têm uma natureza pública ou comum e portanto, sem valor de mercado e não sujeitos a mercantilização. Estes factos devem ser considerados aquando da elaboração, adopção e implementação de políticas e leis. Em suma, como mostrado acima, toda a rede de conexões que se estabelece entre os usos da terra e os respectivos bens e serviços produzidos e as componentes do bemestar, estão interligados e contribuem para o benefício último do bem-estar designado por liberdade de escolha e acção. Bibliografia Cinatti, Ruy 1950a, Reconhecimento de Timor, Relatório de Tirocínio do Curso de Engenheiro Agrónomo, Instituto Superior de Agronomia, Lisboa. --- 1950b, Esboço Histórico do Sândalo no Timor Português, Ministério das Colónias, Junta de Investigações Coloniais, Lisboa. De Groot, R. S 2006, ‘Function Analysis and Valuation as a Tool to Assess Land Use Conflicts in Planning for Sustainable, Multi-Functional Landscapes’, Landscape and Urban Planning, 75: 175-186. Direcção Nacional de Estatística (DNE) 2006, Census da população e da habitação 2004, Atlas, Direcção Nacional de Estatística e United Nations Population Fund, Díli. --- 2008, Final Statistical Abstract: Timor-Leste Survey of Living Standards 2007, DNE, Díli. Directorate of Agribusiness 2009, Commodity Profiles Series - Rice, Maize, Coffee, MAP, Díli, Timor-Leste. Fox, James (ed) 1980, The Flow of Life: Essays on Eastern Indonesia, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Gusmão, Marçal 2003, Soil conservation strategies and policies for East Timor, Project submitted for partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Soil Management and Conservation. Landes, D. 1998, Wealth and Poverty of Nations, Norton, New York. MEA, Millennium Ecosystem Assessment 2003, Assessment: Ecosystems and Human Well-being: A Framework for Assessment, Island Press. MED 2008, Comissão Nacional de Pesquisa e Desenvolvimento, Relatório do Estado da Nação, Volume I, II & IV, Díli, Timor-Leste. Ministério das Finanças (MF) 2008, Timor-Leste: Poverty in a Young Nation, Direcção Nacional de Estatística and World Bank, Díli. Moreira, Fausto 1968, ‘Contribuição para o conhecimento das plantas medicinais do Timor Português’, Separata da Revista Portuguesa de Farmácia, 18: 13-18. Mota, F 2002, Timor-Leste: As novas Florestas do País, Ministério da Agricultura e Pescas, Direcção Geral de Agricultura, Divisão de Florestas, Díli. NDFWR (National Directorate of Forestry and Water Resources) 2004, Policy and Strategy Forestry and Watershed subsector, Ministry of Agricuture, Forestry and Fisheries (MAFF), Díli. Perrot, M. D. 1999 ‘À propos du culturalisme: du super flou au superflu?’ in G. Rist (ed), La Culture Otage du Développement, Paris, L’Harmattan, pp. 31-49. RDTL 2005a, Natural resources and Environment: Priorities and Proposed Sector Investment Program, Several Ministries, Díli. ---2005b, Housing and Urban Development, Priorities and Proposed Sector Investment Program, Ministry of 123 Transport, Communication and Public Works, Díli. ---2005c, Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, Priorities and Proposed Sector Investment Program, Several Ministries, Ministry of Agriculture Forestry and Fisheries, Díli. Reis, Luís Manuel Moreira da Silva 2000, Timor-Leste, 1953–1975: O desenvolvimento agrícola na última fase da colonização portuguesa, Tese de mestrado em Produção Agrícola Tropical, Universidade Técnica de Lisboa, Instituto Superior de Agronomia, Lisboa. São Tomás, Frei Alberto de 1969, Virtudes de Algumas Plantas da Ilha de Timor, Ministério do Ultramar, Lisboa. Sen, Amartya Kumar 2000, Development as freedom, First Anchor Books Edition, New York. UNDP 2004, Human Development Report: Cultural Liberty in Today's Diverse World, Oxford University Press. UNDP 2006, Timor-Leste Human Development Report 2006- The Path out of Poverty, Díli, Timor-Leste. UNWFP (United Nations World Food Programme) 2006, Timor-Leste: Comprehensive Food Security and Vulnerability Analysis (CFSVA), FAO, Rome. World Bank 2001, World Development Report 2000/2001: Attacking Poverty, Oxford University Press, Oxford. 124 18 Notas sobre a política externa portuguesa e os interesses portugueses em Timor-Leste1 Nuno Canas Mendes2 Neste artigo tentarei reflectir sobre a natureza da política externa portuguesa, os seus objectivos e resultados. Timor-Leste, uma antiga colónia portuguesa no extremo do arquipélago Sunda, nos limites do Sudeste Asiático, frequentemente destacado como o primeiro estado do século XXI, irá ser o caso de estudo. Este novo país, metade da ilha de Timor, esteve sob domínio indonésio entre 1975 e 1999 e durante aqueles vinte e quatro anos Portugal manteve o poder administrativo e inscreveu a autodeterminação do povo de Timor-Leste como objectivo na sua política externa. Depois da independência em 2002, TimorLeste tornou-se num país de expressão Portuguesa e através de cooperação e ajuda, o Estado português tem apoiado continuamente o processo de construção de estado deste novo país. Por que motivo está Portugal a manter estas ligações com Timor-Leste? Por que motivo foi a política externa Portuguesa apoiar uma meta que parecia impossível de ser alcançada e, de facto, uma causa perdida – modificar o status-quo no Sudeste Asiático, enfrentando a Indonésia e lidando com atores que estavam tão remotamente associados a tal vitória do Direito Internacional? Que tipo de retorno pode prever Portugal ao investir em ajuda para o desenvolvimento e a participar em acções de construção de estados? Será somente um cosmopolitismo empenhado ou antes o peso de um imaginário emocional da herança cultural portuguesa? Irei defender que este caso é o artefacto de uma série de articulações nas quais os cálculos em soft power e a praxis da realpolitik habilmente se interligam e fundem homogeneamente num continuum. Esta tese vai ser apresentada tendo em conta o contexto histórico no qual evoluiu a política externa Portuguesa desde 1975 até aos nossos dias no que a esta questão diz respeito. A guerrilha anti-Indonésia, a duradoura postura moderada e legalística de Portugal, as Nações Unidas e a sua insistência jurídica no estatuto de Portugal como “poder administrativo”, os comportamentos da Indonésia, Austrália e Estados Unidos e as respectivas avaliações de realpolitik, todos convergiram ao mesmo palco durante bastante tempo. No início, longos anos de agonia que decorreram de considerações duras na realpolitik que sucederam à decisão inicial de Henry Kissinger em 1975, antes da invasão Indonésia, de encarar Timor-Leste como uma guerra por procuração, de acordo com a teoria do dominó, após a queda de Saigão. Com a implosão da URSS em 1991, tudo mudou, o Direito Internacional reemergiu e os nacionalismos tornaram-se disseminados a nível global. Nesse momento, os guerrilheiros Timorenses procuraram ter uma organização mais sofisticada da ‘resistência’ e tentaram usar a sua vaga herança Portuguesa para reforçar a identidade, ao mesmo tempo que a comunicação social deu ao caso uma cobertura crescente, após a transmissão das célebres filmagens de Max Sthal. Simultaneamente, a percepção em Portugal de que o novo ambiente estratégico global poderia ser talvez uma oportunidade para obter resultados mais eficazes surpreendeu alguns diplomatas em Portugal, que estavam fortemente convencidos de que a invasão Indonésia era um fait-accompli eterno. Para consumo interno, a questão de Timor-Leste tinha contornos nacionalistas e a Indonésia era interpretada e rotulada como o “inimigo”. Regressando ao ponto inicial, a ideia de que existe um continuum que une dois polos é a minha tese central e, de facto, a atitude Portuguesa perante a questão é inscrita neste continuum. A política externa Portuguesa tentou conciliar a necessidade de lidar com forças e atores internacionais e na consagração de um princípio e de um direito e, ao mesmo tempo, com uma capacidade de manobra adicional depois de alcançar a entrada na Comunidade Europeia (1986), como meio de melhorar o seu soft power num novo mundo globalizado. 1 A presente versão retoma mas aprofunda e desenvolve vários argumentos de um texto publicado na revista Limes, Rivista di Geopolítica Italiana (5/2010), intitulado “Timor, meu amor” e numa intervenção realizada na Academia Militar, no seminário “Timor-Leste: o contributo de Portugal para a construção do Estado”, em Maio de 2011. 2 Instituto do Oriente, Instituto Superior de Ciências Sociais e Políticas, Universidade Técnica de Lisboa. 125 Para Portugal, no que diz respeito a Timor-Leste, o dilema habitual entre equilibrar a ética internacional e salvaguardar os interesses nacionais quase não existiu. Timor-Leste era a cause célebre portuguesa: depois de um longo período no qual Portugal perseguiu a defesa do direito à autodeterminação do povo de Timor-Leste, a questão Timorense reforçou-se, pelo menos por algum tempo, como uma característica da identidade nacional portuguesa. O ciclo do Império tinha que ser fechado, preferencialmente com um gran finale. Em 1999, todos os Portugueses pareciam ter-se unido à volta da ideia da independência para TimorLeste. Ao mesmo tempo, esta independência emergiu como uma “catarse” do dramático processo de descolonização Português, como assinalou Miguel Vale de Almeida. Nos anos noventa, Portugal tentou chamar a atenção da questão Timorense nos fóruns Europeus; na mesma década, Portugal reforçou o projecto de criação de uma comunidade de países de expressão Portuguesa, a Comunidade de Países de Língua Portuguesa (CPLP), e iniciou a sua participação em operações internacionais de paz, nos Balcãs. Por outras palavras, os diplomatas e políticos Portugueses convergiram na necessidade de terem uma política externa mais assertiva, especialmente através dos meios do soft power. O envolvimento Português em Timor-Leste tinha vários objectivos, agora para consumo interno e externo. As razões históricas e emocionais não são menos importantes: um sentido de dever misturado com sentimentos de ‘consciência pesada’ (devido aos erros cometidos no processo de descolonização) e o fim do Império, já que Timor-Leste, um ‘território não-autónomo’ estava sob a responsabilidade Portuguesa e a Macau estaria em breve sob soberania chinesa. O que pretendo dizer é que Portugal estava a atravessar um ciclo no qual se vivia um sentido de prosperidade e esta disposição estava a ser traduzida num novo sentido de identidade positiva aplicado à definição e execução da política externa. Os anos noventa foram um período especial de optimismo em Portugal, cuja integração completa na União Europeia e os subsequentes indicadores económicos positivos levaram a um discurso de ‘progresso’ e a uma posição mais assertiva no mundo. A Expo 98 em Lisboa foi uma representação simbólica desta nova imagem de Portugal no mundo. Foi neste ambiente de autoconfiança que o processo culminou, depois de uma persistente batalha diplomática de quase vinte e quatro anos. Mas o mundo estava a mudar desde o fim da Guerra Fria, os estados estavam num processo de multiplicação e as áreas regionais obtiveram maior importância. Em 1997, uma crise económica no Sudeste Asiático mudou o status-quo político da Indonésia, o Presidente Suharto demitiu-se, iniciou-se um processo de transição política para um sistema democrático e isso abriu caminho para terminar com a invasão de Timor-Leste. As conversações diplomáticas realizadas nas Nações Unidas permitiram a conclusão dos acordos de Nova Iorque entre Portugal e a Indonésia em Maio de 1999 e no final de Agosto, após referendo, o povo de Timor-Leste decidiu claramente pela independência. Com um muito bom sentido de oportunidade e uma perceção clara deste continuum relacional entre a realpolitik e o soft power, a política externa portuguesa foi bem sucedida na obtenção daquilo que pode ser considerado como um resultado muito positivo. Seguindo este raciocínio, entre esta polarização, havia espaço para contribuições de soft e middle powers e políticas externas pautadas pela ética. No novo mundo pós-Guerra Fria, estas potências, Portugal por exemplo, tentaram ter um papel nas dinâmicas das relações internacionais e ofereceram novas abordagens à cooperação internacional. Esta abordagem às relações internacionais está também relacionada com um processo multidimensional que decorria a nível global. A independência de Timor-Leste foi uma mistura de esforço diplomático, relações públicas e cobertura mediática, mas o uso de força, através das Nações Unidas (INTERFET, Setembro-Outubro de 1999) ilustra a mesma ideia da relação dialéctica entre realpolitik e soft power. Antes disso, sublinhando o mesmo ponto de vista, as crises financeira e depois política na Indonésia e o risco de dissolução deste país, assim como a ausência da ASEAN, criou as condições para a diplomacia portuguesa conseguir um acordo por parte do governo Indonésio que permitisse o referendo da independência. De facto, o esforço diplomático português e a continuidade deste tópico na agenda da política externa portuguesa, deu origem a este acordo num momento especial e difícil para a Indonésia. Assim que foi obtida a independência, depois da administração transitória das Nações Unidas (1999-2002), Timor-Leste, um novo país de expressão portuguesa, continuou como prioridade na agenda da política externa portuguesa. Depois de 2002, os decisores da política externa Portuguesa continuaram a 126 gerir a questão de Timor-Leste como uma via para promoverem o poder de médio alcance do país no mundo, através da participação em acções de construção de estados, alocando uma enorme quantia de dinheiro para a cooperação com Timor-Leste e as Nações Unidas. Portugal está a contribuir para o desenvolvimento económico e de infraestruturas de Timor-Leste e foram assinados vários acordos de assistência e cooperação (para as áreas da educação, governação e justiça). Entre 1999 e 2007 foram disponibilizados USD$655.21 e desde então foram prometidos €60 milhões por ano no “Programa de Cooperação Indicativo” (www.ipad.mne.gov.pt/index.php?option=com_contenttask=view&id=91&Itemid=122). Uma das dimensões mais relevantes na colaboração entre Portugal e o recém-nascido país foi a contribuição das forças militares e paramilitares Portuguesas na organização das Forças Armadas e da Polícia de TimorLeste, mas também na área da justiça e da educação. É conveniente sublinhar que este esforço do Estado (que não tem qualquer tradução ao nível do investimento privado, o qual é quase nulo) tem no corolário “defesa e difusão” da língua portuguesa, uma questão controversa e fracturante como todas as que dizem respeito à construção da identidade nacional, uma aposta que não está de todo ganha. A questão da língua é causadora de dissensões e tem exigido um enorme esforço, cujo retorno não é completamente seguro. A quantidade de ajuda prestada por Portugal ainda é significativa e o facto de estarem actores mais poderosos em palco como a Austrália, Indonésia e China reforça a ideia de vários observadores de que esta ligação é um mistério, um paradoxo ou até mesmo um anacronismo. O Ministério dos Negócios Estrangeiros Português publicou uma declaração na sua página oficial na internet sobre a continuidade: “Relativamente a Timor-Leste, Portugal tem contribuído expressivamente para promover e consolidar o desenvolvimento sustentável de Timor-Leste e a sua integração e interacção com a comunidade internacional – em particular com a ONU e a União Europeia - , designadamente através do apoio consistente às instituições democráticas timorenses” (www.mne.gov.pt/mne/pt/infopolitica/polexternas/). Não obstante, a ideia de reafirmar a posição no Sudeste Asiático, tendo Timor-Leste e até mesmo Macau como parceiros, esteve longe de ser realidade. No que pode ser interpretado como uma atitude curiosa, senão surpreendente, os decisores políticos tendem a não capitalizar os recursos e uma herança cultural numa região de tal importância. As tendências burocráticas e corporativas autofágicas podem explicar parcialmente esta quase ausência Portuguesa na região do Pacífico (e a falta de manifestação de interesses económicos e políticos). Que ganhos se esperam então? Será realista insistir num investimento, estando neste momento Portugal sob constrangimentos tão severos e dependente da ajuda externa? Haverá espaço para a afirmação da “lusofonia” e, em caso positivo, não será com um protagonismo de outros países, como o Brasil ou Angola? Vivem-se tempos em que o pragmatismo e o realismo têm de imperar e a equação dos ganhos e perdas da política externa portuguesa terá de ser rigorosa. Timor-Leste vai entrar, em 2012, num novo e complexo ciclo da sua vida enquanto Estado independente, designadamente o termo do mandato da UNMIT, a assunção de competências pelas forças de segurança e policiais e a realização de eleições presidenciais e legislativas. O crescimento económico embora factual, não é sustentado e o sector de justiça continua a acusar inúmeras fragilidades, o que significa que um exercício mais pleno de soberania implicará dificuldades acrescidas e assistência bilateral aumentada. Para além dos parceiros habituais, com a Austrália, a Indonésia ou a China à cabeça, Timor não vai decerto prescindir da cooperação portuguesa, cujos termos terão agora de ser reavaliados face à mudança de circunstâncias nos dois interlocutores. Os termos da reação portuguesa ainda estão para ser conhecidos, embora se preveja que a continuidade não esteja em causa, mesmo que mais circunscrita a determinados domínios e financeiramente mais contraída. Não é difícil ser cético ou rotular a política externa Portuguesa perante Timor-Leste como “estranha” – até mesmo incompreensível. É, no entanto, como se disse anteriormente, uma mistura de razões históricas e emocionais, considerações de ética e soft power, com uma redução expectável de importância. No entanto, a solidariedade lusófona e uma presença global com fortes raízes históricas irá prevalecer: a chave para a compreensão das idiossincrasias Portuguesas irá manter-se em segredo. Nem 127 mesmo os próprios Portugueses se compreendem a si próprios... e Timor-Leste é um bom exemplo de como a razão e a emoção se fundem na formulação e na aplicação da política externa de um Estado. Bibliografia Almeida, Miguel Vale de 2000, ‘O Epílogo do Império: Timor-Leste e a Catarse Pós-Colonial Portuguesa’, Um Mar da Cor da Terra: Raça, Cultura e Política da Identidade, Oeiras, Celta. Instutito Portuguës de Apoio Ao Desenvolimento 2012, www.ipad.mne.gov.pt/index.php?option=com_contenttask=view&id=91&Itemid=122, viewed 26 April 2012. Ministerio dos Negocios Estrangeiros 2012, www.mne.gov.pt/mne/pt/infopolitica/polexternas/, viewed 26 April 2012. 128 New Research on Timor-Leste English language papers edited by Michael Leach 129 19 Talking in the fourth language: Oral English class discussion strategies and topic preferences in a Timor-Leste university Marcos Antonio Amaral, Agustinho da Conceição Anuno, Jose da Costa, Sancho Patricio,1 and James McLellan2 Introduction This paper reports the preliminary findings of one of the ‘Action Research’ (AR) groups based in the English Department of Universidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e (UNTL), the nation’s only public university. Three AR groups were formed as part of the ongoing collaboration between UNTL English department and co-researchers based at the University of Waikato, Aotearoa (New Zealand), previously outlined in Amaral, Barnard. Field and McLellan (2009). Burns (1999) cites Carr and Kemmis (1986, 162), who define AR as ‘a form of self-reflective enquiry undertaken by participants in social situations in order to improve the rationality and justice of their own practices’. The research focus of the AR group on in-class discussions in the oral English communication classes (henceforth ‘Speaking’, the term used within UNTL) was decided by the group members because of the central importance of spoken English proficiency for UNTL students taking the four-year Licenciatura programme. This programme aims to supply English language and other subject teachers for the nation’s high schools. Speaking classes are a compulsory component of the UNTL English language programme, and courses are offered in each of the first four semesters of the programme. Students must pass Speaking I in the first semester in order to proceed to Speaking II in the second semester, and so on. The AR group investigated a Speaking IV class, taken by students in the second semester of their second year of study. Their spoken English proficiency is assessed through a series of in-class presentations on selected topics, prepared by students in groups of four or five. The designated group leader gives the presentation, which is followed by questions from members of other groups. Working in groups is seen as necessary in a context where student numbers are high. Statement of problems The UNTL AR group identified four problems relating to their students’ spoken English and to the Speaking classes: a. b. c. d. Students’ limited talking time in large classes Low oral proficiency of some students Lack of interest of students in topics nominated by lecturers Unwillingness to communicate in groups because of lack of vocabulary, limited self-confidence and fear of mispronouncing words. These problems are by no means unique to UNTL or to Timor-Leste. They are familiar to all lecturers charged with the task of developing students’ academic oral language capabilities. One further issue perceived as problematic (Amaral et al. 2009) is the limited availability of relevant resources (books, magazines, journals and websites) required by the students when the groups are preparing their presentations. This may restrict their choice of topic, as they will be reluctant to choose a topic for which little or no reference material is available. 1 2 Universidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e The University of Waikato 130 Research objectives The objectives of the AR investigation addressed in this paper are as follows: 1. To explore UNTL lecturers’ and students’ perceptions about in-class discussions 2. To consider how students’ lack of self-confidence and unwillingness to participate in discussion can be addressed through appropriate discussion topic selection. 3. To identify how topic choice influences students’ willingness to participate in the Speaking classes. Research design and methodology The research design is a single case study, supplemented by the comparative investigation of discussion topic and strategy preferences between UNTL and University of Waikato students. In line with the AR cycle, the group firstly reflected on their own teaching of the Speaking courses, in order to identify the problems listed above. They then decided to use the following procedures for data collection: Questionnaires given to students Observing Speaking IV classes and taking field notes Collecting students’ notes made during group planning Two members of the research team served as observers and made narrative field notes of the lessons taught by their colleagues, writing these up subsequently in a report shared among the AR group. The comparative survey of UNTL and the University of Waikato students was a subsequent addition for the purpose of triangulation of findings. The observations, distribution of questionnaires and collection of students’ planning notes took place according to the following schedule: Table 1 – Primary data collection schedule Date 12/08/10 21/08/10 28/10/11 Number of students (number of groups) 22 (5) 21 (4) 31 (6) Gender balance 17 m 5 f 15 m 6 f 19 m 12 f The gender balance shows a predominance of male over female students. This reflects the normal pattern within the current UNTL student population. Findings The first main finding is the tendency for the speaking task to become something of a ‘one-man show’, as described by the course lecturer, in which the group leader does most of the talking, whilst other members of the student groups make little or no contribution. The group leaders, as well as making the presentation speech, tended to ask most of the questions following other groups’ speeches, and to answer the questions from the other groups. This makes it difficult to assess the performance of the other students who make little or no contribution, except during the group planning time. Figure 1 shows an example of the planning notes prepared by one student group on the topic of unemployment in Timor-Leste. 131 Figure 1 – Student’s planning notes (reproduced with permission) These notes supply content as well as structure for the group’s presentation, and they show how written English plays an important role in the Speaking classes. They also demonstrate that all group members can participate in the planning process. For the lecturer there remains the problem of how to give a fair assessment of each individual’s oral English competence if the students do not all participate in the discussions. The second finding arises from the nature of the task in the Speaking classes: students find the task stressful, since they lack the self-confidence and the experience of speaking in public. In the questionnaire responses they refer to lack of vocabulary as one cause for this, which may in turn be exacerbated by the lack of available source material for preparing the talks. Feeling that their vocabulary knowledge is limited, students spend much of the preparation searching through dictionaries for the right words or phrases. This in turn leads to a further constraint noted by students: insufficient preparation time. Thirdly, we observed a tendency to deviate from the stated presentation topic: in one instance the topic was ‘Traditional clothing’, but the student presenter digressed from this and talked more about food. The fourth finding relates to the topics chosen for presentation and discussion. Whilst some of these generate interest and boost the student’s willingness to speak, others are deemed ‘not interesting’ and thus serve as a constraint on their ability to prepare and deliver good presentations. Whilst the first three findings are to some extent characteristic of spoken language learning in classrooms worldwide, we felt that the fourth finding, about interesting and uninteresting topics, could be pursued in a further round of the AR cycle, through a comparison of UNTL students with others in a parallel learning situation outside Timor-Leste. We now address this part of the study. 132 Comparative study of discussion topic preferences For comparison with Speaking classes in the UNTL English Department, and in order to broaden the scope of the initial single case study, we compared the opinions of UNTL students with a group of international students at the University of Waikato, Aotearoa (New Zealand), for whom English is an additional language. This comparison focused specifically on their preferred topics for in-class discussions, and more broadly on the students’ preferred learning strategies for developing their spoken English proficiency. Data collection took place in June 2011, as summarised in Table 2. Appropriate human research ethics approval was obtained following the requirements of both universities. Table 2 – Comparative study of UNTL and University of Waikato students University Waikato Number and year of study 16 Year 2 UNTL 31 Years 2, 3 Course title Academic presentation Speaking IV Nationality of students oral PR China, Korea, Saudi Arabia, Germany, Tonga Timor-Leste The comparison is seen as valid, despite the disparity in the number of student participants and the diverse national and first-language profile of the Waikato group, compared to the UNTL group who are all East Timorese. The Waikato group have English as their lingua franca both inside and outside the classroom and are exposed to a great deal of English all around them on the university campus and beyond. The UNTL students have Tetun as their shared lingua franca and relatively little English is spoken in their surrounding environment. Both groups have high instrumental motivation for developing their oral English proficiency. They both need to introduce and develop discussion topics and to ask and answer questions on these topics, and these competencies form part of their assessment. Table 3 shows the comparison in terms of preferred and dispreferred class discussion topics. The students were asked to rate these topics as ‘OK’ or ‘not OK’. The + and – figures show the difference between those students who prefer to give talks on this topic and those who do not. Thus, 21 UNTL students rated ‘Food’ as an ‘OK’ topic, whilst 9 rated it ‘not OK’, giving a figure of + 12. Table 3 – Preferred and dispreferred in-class discussion topics Topic 1 2 Food Clothing and fashion UNTL (n=31) +12 -2 3 Politics +13 +1 4 5 6 7 Relationships – love, marriage Academic study (in home country or overseas) Career choices Gender issues (women’s and men’s roles) +14 +25 +14 +25 +6 +12 +8 +14 8 9 Mass tourism – benefits and dangers Transport – public (bus, air); private (car, motorbike) Advertising on TV – a waste of time and money Migration from one country to another +14 +18 +12 +7 +2 +16 +7 +11 10 11 Waikato (n=16) +14 +4 For most topics there was agreement, except for politics, which the UNTL students were happy to speak about, but not the Waikato students. ‘Gender issues’ and ‘Academic study’ were the most highly-rated 133 topics by all students in both countries. The UNTL students returned a negative result for ‘Clothing and fashion’, showing that this was not one of their preferred topics. The student participants were then asked them to suggest more topics that they liked or disliked. The UNTL students offered a wide and diverse range of suggestions, saying that all of these were suitable (‘OK’) as discussion topics. Culture (shock, cultural differences), pollution, global warming, education were all mentioned more than once by the UNTL group. The Waikato students agreed about ‘Culture’, and suggested ‘Visa problems’ and ‘Movies’, but overall they made fewer suggestions, and they did not like ‘Development’ and ‘History’ topics. The UNTL - Waikato comparison of preferred topics for in-class discussion reveals a great deal of common ground, with the UNTL students giving a wider range of topics which they are happy to discuss. If topics chosen by lecturers or offered as choices to students are among those rated as ‘OK’, this may help to overcome the perceived problem of non-participation in class discussions, which was identified earlier in this paper as an issue for the UNTL English lecturers and students. Learning strategies for oral English communication In response to the prompt ‘What do you do individually to become a better speaker of English?’ the following results were obtained: Table 4 – Strategies for developing spoken English proficiency Strategy UNTL (n=31) Waikato (n = 16) Communicate / make friends with other nationalities (including via Facebook, online chat etc.) 31 9 Watch English television programmes 18 6 Read literature, stories, newspapers in English 17 5 Listen to radio 14 2 Watch English movies 8 1 Listen to / sing / memorise English songs 6 2 Debating society 3 - Practise speaking in front of mirror 2 - Conversation classes - 2 Voluntary activities - 1 Get a part-time job - 1 These results show the important role played by social media, especially Facebook ®, as an adjunct to formal foreign-language learning in the classroom, even in a context such as Timor-Leste where internet connectivity is not always readily available to all students. A follow-up question on learning strategies was asked to both the UNTL and the Waikato groups: ‘What does your lecturer encourage you to do to improve your spoken English?’ Table 5 below reports the students’ responses. These were not cross-checked with the lecturers themselves, so they represent students’ self-reported views of what they recall of their lecturers’ advice. 134 Table 5 – Strategies recommended by lecturers for developing spoken English proficiency UNTL (n=31) Waikato (n = 16) Discuss, practise English in groups /teams/pairs 25 13 Do more presentations / mini- lectures - 9 Read extensively, incl. course materials 11 2 Listen to radio 4 1 Make friends 3 1 Criticise, debate, argue - 1 Watch television 1 1 Comparing the findings shown in Tables 4 and 5, it is evident that the respective English language lecturers encourage and exhort their students to undertake more of the actual speaking tasks that they are required to perform in class as assessed tasks. The students’ preferred strategy, ‘communicate / make friends with other nationalities’, is less closely related to their assessed classroom speaking tasks, involving real communication and interaction rather than just out-of-class practice. Reviewing the answers of both groups of students to the questions on learning strategies for spoken English, there is considerable common ground between the UNTL and the Waikato students, with both stating a preference for active participatory strategies over more passive or receptive self-improvement strategies. We are conscious that the analysis of the students’ preferences in this section of the study is reliant on self-report data, and needs triangulation through other research methods such as in-depth interviews of students and lecturers, and stimulated recall using video-recordings of spoken English classes. It is our hope that this initial AR investigation will be followed by more in-depth studies of this important issue. Significance and limitations of the study This investigation of the nature and the importance of group discussion is a contribution to the body of knowledge on language teaching in higher education in a developing country, as well as demonstration of how an AR approach can be adopted by a group of lecturers to investigate their classroom practices, in particular their assessment of students’ oral English-language proficiency. This study is limited because it is principally a single case study, and it is also limited by the constraints of the AR format. Nonetheless, it highlights important aspects of academic language learning and teaching in the specific context of UNTL and of Timor-Leste, which may be of wider significance. Bibliography Amaral, Marcos, Roger Barnard, Jennifer Field and James McLellan 2009, ‘Collaborative evaluation of the English-language curriculum at Universidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e’ in Leach, Michael, Nuno Canas Mendes, Antero. B. da Silva, Alarico da Costa Ximenes and Bob Boughton (eds), Hatene kona ba compreender, understanding, mengerti Timor Leste, Swinburne University Press, Hawthorn, Vic. Australia, 284-290. Burns, Anne 1999, Collaborative action research for English Language teachers, Cambridge University Press, London. Carr, Wilfred and Stephen Kemmis 1986, Becoming Critical. Education, knowledge and action research, Falmer, Lewes, England. 135 20 Aid: is it worth it? Tim Anderson Aid worldwide runs at more than $120 billion per year (World Bank 2011a), yet there is very little correlation between this expenditure and the often stated goal of poverty reduction. The failures of aid are legion. Yet this ‘development assistance’ has become a massive and semi-permanent global industry which in western countries is often erroneously equated with ‘development’. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aid programs, despite the stated good intentions, certainly deserve some critical scrutiny. What is called ‘aid’ typically refers to multilateral (from international finance agencies and the United Nations), bilateral (from the governments of a handful of generally wealthy countries) and community and religious group (NGO) ‘development assistance’ to developing countries, most of which are former colonies. Conventionally, aid usually excludes military, police and ‘peace keeping’ assistance. ‘Development assistance’, more so than emergency aid, comes with a wide mix of aims and objectives. While in the past there was an emphasis on promoting economic growth and export industries, most aid agencies these days say they support the goals of poverty reduction and achieving the Millennium Development Goals. However the World Bank is constitutionally committed to doing this through promoting private foreign investment, the various ‘donor’ countries add on their own strategic and economic objectives, and many NGOs factor in religious objectives. All this is aimed at recipient countries and communities who, naturally, have their own ideas. The most important problem with aid is that it undermines processes of self-determination and democratic development in developing countries. What sort of independence have they gained if, after decolonisation, they remain beggars before their former colonial masters? Whatever might be said about the practical benefits of any particular aid program, one thing is certain: there will be no democratic accountability. The donor countries may pretend to ‘consult’ with local peoples, but they will never be held accountable by them. On the contrary, aid programs will always answer to the ‘national interest’ (commercial and strategic) of their home countries. For the ‘recipients’, the longer aid programs persist, the more serious is this undermining of democracy and disempowerment of their own citizens. The more frequently cited - but second order - problems of aid (obligation, debt and policy leverage; corruption and aid elites; aid trauma) also deserve scrutiny. Some of them are consequences of the first order problem. Only after full scrutiny of these problems is it be possible to properly consider what role, if any, aid might play in the nation building of a sovereign people. This paper sets out some initial myths and dilemmas of aid, before briefly but systematically addressing these key problems. It then seeks to characterise the most harmful forms of aid, as well as the potentially useful forms, and from there formulate some regulatory criteria that might assist in determining a sovereign response. Some initial myths Influenced by the promotional arms of aid agencies, and encouraged by the small elite groups that benefit from cashed-up aid programs, many myths flourish. The first is the idea that aid ‘transfers resources’; that is, one million dollars in aid means one million dollars going to people in need. The more the better, therefore ‘increasing aid flows’ is foundational to development and general welfare, say some influential advisers (e.g. Sachs 2001). The new resource ‘pool’ is said to be able to deliver essential services and training, build infrastructure and create employment, steps towards capacity building and poverty reduction. However most aid ‘boomerangs’, or returns to the ‘donor’, in the form of salaries for highly paid foreign workers and profits for foreign companies which have the inside running on lucrative aid contracts. For example, in Australia’s 2003-04 country aid budget for Papua New Guinea, six companies were 136 awarded 23 contracts totalling A$504 million, or 65% of that country budget (Aid/Watch 2005). In neighbouring Timor Leste the La’o Hamutuk group estimated that, of the more than $5.2 billion in total aid moneys allocated to Timor Leste between 1999 and 2009, only $552 million or 10.6% actually entered the Timorese economy (La’o Hamutuk 2009). That represented a 90% ‘boomerang’; that is, a massive return of aid to the ‘donor’ countries. This process keeps aid programs popular amongst corporate elites, who otherwise complain about taxation and public spending at home. Nevertheless, Australia’s aid agency has defended itself against these accusations, saying: “Boomerang aid” is a simplistic concept that alleges aid benefits [to Australian companies and individuals] … to the exclusion of companies and individuals in developing countries … [however] the longer-term benefits including those that flow to local businesses and industry are not taken into account … around one third of [AusAID in PNG] expenditure was made through local firms with an additional 40 per cent made through in-country agencies (AusAID 2005, 8). In other words, there may be longer term benefits (e.g. training, business opportunities) from the Australian operations and at least ‘one third’ went to local firms. However the ‘aid boomerang’ can be much larger, while the ‘spin off’ benefits mostly accrue to small privileged groups. For example, the illfated ‘Enhanced Cooperation Program’ for Papua New Guinea was to be a five year long, Australian Federal Police–led operation, headlined with A$790 million. Of this, more than 92% was dedicated to AFP salaries, accommodation, logistics and operational costs (Aid/Watch 2005). A fair deal of this money was indeed spent on vehicles and rented apartments in the capital – representing benefits to a few wealthy locals – but the program did not go ahead because proposed privileges (legal immunities) for the Australian police were successfully challenged in court (Skehan 2005). The waste on foreign advisers, in the name of ‘capacity building’ is now well recognised. Australia’s aid agency recently acknowledged some of these problems: Currently, none of Australia’s programs has formal systems for monitoring and reporting on adviser performance. There is a growing discussion among donors in East Timor about the scope of capacity building and whether it has been too tied to the adviser model (AusAID 2008, 33-34). Highly paid advisers contribute to enormously unequal, apartheid-like ‘bubble economies’ economies (Sogge 2009), which are unstable and generate resentment and violent crime (Braithwaite 1979; Fajnzlber, Lederman and Loayza 2002, 1). Two of the three most expensive cities in the world (N’Djamena in Chad and Luanda in Angola) are now in poor developing countries (Mercer 2011; UN Habitat 2008). This indicates the apartheid-like construction of long-term ‘dual economies’, building enclaves of highly-paid foreigners alongside hundreds of thousands of desperate slum dwellers. Such outcomes are hardly consistent with the idea of aid ‘cementing friendly relations’ between peoples. This waste and extreme inequality may help us understand the ‘failure’ of most bilateral aid. A number of systematic studies (usually involving more than a hundred countries) have demonstrated the failure of aid in its stated aims: whether these be economic growth or key human development indicators. Boone (1995) found that aid ‘does not significantly increase investment or growth’, regardless of the form of government. Similarly, aid did not help ‘growth’ in PNG (Feeny 2005). World Bank self evaluations in Africa found ‘a 73% failure rate’ (US Melzer Commission 2000). ‘Donor’ countries usually blamed the failures on corrupt local elites (no doubt one part of the problem) and an influential study suggested aid should be made conditional on ‘good governance’ programs (Burnside and Dollar 1997), despite the resentment at earlier ‘conditional’ regimes (see Shah 2010). Yet another study contradicted the claim that ‘the impact of aid depends on the quality of state institutions and policies’, saying aid failed across all manner of ‘recipient’ regimes (Easterly, Levine, and Roodman 2003). Two IMF studies then looked at the impact of aid on infant mortality. Masud and Yontcheva (2005) found that bilateral aid did not reduce infant mortality (but NGO aid could), while ‘only government education expenditures’ reduced illiteracy. A subsequent study found that ‘doubling health aid’ could be linked to a 2% reduction in infant mortality 137 (Mishra and Newhouse 2007); but this was miniscule compared to the targets set under the Millennium Development Goals. The track record is very poor. Following huge corruption scandals which involved large aid agencies – in particular due to the World Bank’s long term relations with corrupt dictatorships (see e.g. Pilger 2003, 44) – anti-corruption programs began to enter aid portfolios (see Pincus and Winters 2002). Yet the truth is that large cashed up aid programs have always been a major source and fomenter of corruption, involving both local elites and the aid contractors. The World Bank’s own internal assessment shows the body remains open to serious corruption (Edwards 2009; IEG 2009). Corruption is particularly likely for those aid programs linked to neoliberal ideologies which happily ‘marry’ private profiteering (e.g. by aid contractors) with public policy (e.g. poverty reduction). Such ideologies typically show poor recognition of conflicts of interest. Aid failure is rarely admitted and aid programs are often poorly monitored and assessed, and rarely independently so. The outcomes of privately contracted projects are mostly held secret under ‘commercial confidentiality’ provisions, preventing scrutiny. Australia’s aid agency AusAID, for example, has made some attempts at assessment, but without clear objectives assessment is hardly possible (McCawley 2010). The character of aid problems As indicated at the outset, the main problem with aid is not waste and corruption, but the fact that foreign aid programs are fundamentally corrosive of democracy and self-determination. No aid program is determined by the people it is supposed to assist – they are always externally directed. Aid regimes typically substitute cultures of charity and external dependence for those of justice, citizen’s rights and democratic accountability. The original idea of aid, assisting a post-colonial transition regime or compensating for the colonial era (see Sarkin 2008; Howard-Hassmann and Lombardo 2011), has transformed into a semi-permanent, neo-colonial regime. This industry has its own logic and it is no accident that most aid regimes have no ‘exit strategy’. This issue became contentious in the Solomon Islands, during the RAMSI mission, where the idea of an ‘exit strategy’ was termed ‘confrontational’ and ‘political’ (Winter and Schofield 2007, 5, 14, 42-43; Anderson 2008, 4, 15, 21,22, 25). Outside models are often pushed through programs set up to address distinct national problems, For example, from 2007 onwards USAID funded a land reform program (Strengthening Property Rights, rebranded in Tetun as Ita Nia Rai) which addressed the Timorese problem of property disputes, yet introduced a systematic modernisation and ‘parcelisation’ of land quite at odds with Timorese traditional tenure. AusAID has a similar approach to land programs. The Australian aid agency had earlier made its mark by opposing Timorese proposals, prior to independence, for the use of aid funds in support of domestic agriculture and to build public institutions such as abattoirs and grain silos, as the Australian preference was for privatised institutions and export orientation in agriculture (Anderson 2003a). Yet ‘development’ is a necessarily political process which must remain in local hands. So much is made clear by the first article of the International Bill of Rights: All peoples have the right of selfdetermination. By virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development (UN 1966, 1.1).This implies sovereign resource management and national control of such key policies as service delivery and institutional development. No country has developed strength and independence while crying ‘poverty’ and relying on charity. Great national achievements – including in resource-poor island states like Japan, Singapore and Cuba; in industrialisation, finance and health and education, respectively – have come through confident, independent processes, including heavy domestic investments in education and training. The ‘second order’ problems compound the undemocratic dilemma of aid. If aid were simply wasteful, or only delivering benefits to the ‘donor’ country companies and individuals, that might be considered curious but not necessarily the problem of the people of the ‘recipient’ country. However the actual damage done by aid programs makes these problems more severe. We could speak of these ‘second order’ problems in three groups: (i) obligation, debt and policy leverage; (ii) corruption and the aid elites; and (iii) more generally ‘aid trauma’. 138 Obligation and debt are used by aid ‘donors’ to leverage strategic and resource advantage, compromising the independence of local policy making. These days, military and strategic objectives now weigh heavily on aid budgets (Oxfam 2011), even though military budgets are almost always kept separate. Where natural resources (particularly oil) are at stake, these interests always outweigh the contributions in aid. For example, tens of millions in Australian aid were used by Canberra as leverage in its struggle with Timor Leste over the billions of dollars at stake in the Greater Sunrise gas field (see Anderson 2003b). Examination of the cycles of corruption involving aid elites helps explain why aid programs are self-perpetuating, yet deliver little by way of ‘trickle down’ to ordinary people. The strategic and commercial interests of the ‘donors’ are sustained by corrupt local elites, and this relationship is aggravated by links to natural resource companies, for example those concerned with logging and plantations. Transparency International (a group often linked to local investors) notes some of the features of aidassociated corruption. The group observes the proliferation of ‘major contracting projects involving public officials and private companies’, alongside the distorting impact of aid on local investment and local salary structures (Transparency International 2007). The private contracting fostered by many aid agencies helps generate corruption in countries with weak regulatory capacity. After all, ‘private for profit’ activity, under neoliberal ideology, tends to be equated with public welfare. ‘Aid trauma’ is a concept developed (Anderson 2008) to help speak of several damaging features of ‘aid caravans’ in developing countries. Some common features recur in the transition from welcomed emergency aid to resented developmental management; features which seem to be more apparent to the locals than the foreigners. Relatively small groups of highly paid foreigners can inflict social and economic damage through the creation of an inflationary ‘enclave bubble economy’, through failures in human and institutional capacity building and through ‘relative deprivation’. Put together, I call this ‘aid trauma’, an injury which worsens as time goes on. In these enclave ‘bubble economies’ the benefits are not spread widely (due to weak local ‘linkages’) yet the wider population is hit by inflationary pressures. For example, goodwill towards the RAMSI mission in the Solomon Islands was said to have ‘evaporated’ rapidly because the economic benefits from RAMSI remained in Honiara, and were ‘concentrated in a few large businesses’ (Roughan, Greener-Barcham and Barcham 2006, 2). Housing inflation in Honiara meant that whole areas of the capital were dominated by foreigners, on different wage rates to the locals (Anderson 2008). Such segregation also occurs through the many local businesses which are set up to cater to a rich and mostly foreign elite. Local people are excluded from this sort of ‘development’. Segregated cultural relations pass on to problems in training and institution building. Justifying their privileged position, the foreigners are reluctant to pass on skills to locals and exaggerate the importance of their own role. Locals miss out on jobs held by foreign aid workers (e.g. Smith 2008). Referring back to the first order problem, former Solomon Islands Prime Minister Manasseh Sogavare said RAMSI ‘with no exit strategy’ would create an aid dependency that ‘has the effect of numbing [the capacity of] political brains to think independently’ (National Express 2008, 5). Real ‘capacity building’, in the sense of large scale training of domestic workers and professionals, does not work when perpetuation of an foreigner-based industry is the dominant concern. With the failure of such training, aid regimes often focus on cultivating local elites, through such programs as ‘leadership training’. A notable exception to this practice in Timor Leste has been the Cuban health program, which has both a substantial training element and an exit strategy (see Anderson 2011). ‘Relative deprivation’ is a way of speaking of an inequality that is unacceptable to local populations, such that they rebel in a number of ways. Criminologists say that perceived ‘illegitimate’ inequality, combined with labour market instability, generates crime and social insecurity (Vanneman and Pettigrew 1972; Braithwaite 1979; Blau and Blau 1982). From this was can infer that the longer a highly paid, elite enclave persists, the more likely the resentment at this ‘relative deprivation’ is likely to build, along with the costs in crime and instability. It is no accident that countries (e.g. South Africa, Colombia) and cities with high, long-term inequality have the highest crime rates (Carroll and Jackson 1983; Fajnzlber, Lederman and Loayza 2002). 139 Put together, the obligation and debt, failures in capacity building and ‘relative deprivation’, generated by wealthy foreign enclaves, inflict damage on local peoples and their processes of development. One result of this ‘aid trauma’, and the constraints it imposes on socio-economic development, is that highly skilled professionals emigrate and are lost to the country. They do not feel there are opportunities for them in their own country. This ‘brain drain’ has been well documented in many countries (e.g. Schiff 2005), although the World Bank tends to argue that the loss of developing country professionals is offset by remittances (World Bank 2011b). Yet the ‘skilled migration’ programs of many wealthy countries, such as Australia, New Zealand and the USA, worsen this problem. In the Pacific, one study found that there were ‘almost as many’ Fijian born doctors in Australia and New Zealand as in Fiji; while Australia and New Zealand also had more nurses and midwives from Samoa, Tonga, Fiji and Niue than were working in those island states (Negin 2008). How might a sovereign people respond? The track record of aid in recent decades is a bleak one, despite all the stated good intentions. It compounds as a diplomatic problem because, for a sovereign people, is hard to say ‘yes’ to aid and hard to say ‘no’. Saying ‘yes’ implies potential surrender of national will in certain sectors, the inviting of enclaved ‘bubble economies’, problems of coordination and the potential undermining of local capacity building. On the other hand, saying ‘no’ to aid might be seen as an unfriendly act and might block possible links of goodwill. It is a difficult problem. We cannot deny the possibility that cooperation between peoples might bring benefits. Yet the systemic problems cannot be ignored. In these circumstances it might be useful to consider sovereign control and regulation of aid, aiming to prevent the most damaging forms and, at the same time, identifying the key features of programs that are acceptable. Sovereign regulation could require registration of potential aid programs to ensure that, in the first instance, they do not: (i) contribute to inflationary bubble economies; (ii) fail to assist in developing human resources; (iii) introduce and justify cultures of great inequality; (iv) generate corrupt relationships; (v) undermine the construction of national institutions; (vi) undermine indigenous land tenure systems; (vii) displace local technologies and economies; and (viii) fail to respect local sovereignty and control. On the other side of the ledger, regulation could ensure that aid programs (i) are consistent with national priorities; (ii) support rather than undermine national institutions; (iii) include genuine capacity building elements; (iv) have an ‘exit strategy’ for each project. More generally, there could be consideration of (a) prohibitions on discrimination in salaries (national v. non-national) and caps on salaries and fees; (b) a ‘preferred national’ policy on employment; and (c) limited term contracts for foreign workers, with ‘show cause’ provision for extensions. Some of these ideas are addressed in the OECD (2005) ‘Paris Declaration of Aid Effectiveness’, but that statement has hardly changed the nature of most aid programs. While emergency aid is a different matter, there is a strong case against ‘development aid’, as in most respects it is a neo-colonial weapon, facilitating foreign leverage, entrenching undemocratic systems and disempowering whole populations. The severe problems of obligation, debt and policy leverage; corruption and ‘aid trauma’ cannot be ignored. Nevertheless, as an important element in friendly international relations, aid must also be managed as a component of broader foreign policy. It may be better for a sovereign people to engage with aid in a positive yet disciplined manner. This could involve clear regulation which identifies and prohibits the most harmful forms of aid, and requires otherwise eligible programs to meet key nationally-determined criteria. Bibliography Aid/Watch, 2005, ‘Australian aid to PNG, The Boomerang effect continues: Part II’, February, https://classshares.student.usp.ac.fj/DG406/additional%20readings/PNG/Australian%20Aid%20to%20PNG.p df, viewed 27 April 2012. 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World Bank 2011a, ‘Aid and Development Assistance’, Data and Statistics (2008), http://econ.worldbank.org/WBSITE/EXTERNAL/DATASTATISTICS/0,,contentMDK:20394658~menuPK: 1192714~pagePK:64133150~piPK:64133175~theSitePK:239419,00.html, viewed 27 April 2012. --- 2011b, ‘Migration and Remittances’, July, http://web.worldbank.org/WBSITE/EXTERNAL/NEWS/0,,contentMDK:20648762~pagePK:64257043~piP K:437376~theSitePK:4607,00.html, viewed 27 April 2012. 142 21 Developing Museum to Museum Cultural Engagement between Australian and Timor-Leste Cecilia Assis and Robyn Sloggett Introduction There is no doubt that strengthening cultural programs and building cultural infrastructure is a necessary part of nation-building, and the role of culture in economic development and national well-being is well understood and clearly articulated (Wolfensohn 2000; Throsby 2001; Sen 2004; Hutter and Frey 2010; Woolcock et al 2010). In Timor-Leste the government’s Timor-Leste Strategic Development Plan 2011 – 2030, recognised that ‘Cultural institutions play a key role in the preservation of our nation’s past and the promotion of contemporary culture’ as ‘… places of learning’ and which ‘attract local and international visitors who want to learn about Timorese culture’ (RDTL 2010, 65). Despite work on the role of culture in development undertaken by international organisations such as the World Bank (Woolcock et al 2010) and UNESCO (n.d. a) culture remains invisible in important documents such as those relating to the Millennium Development Goals. Indeed in strategic documents that address international engagement culture is often discussed in the context of ‘problems’ that need resolution, as evidenced in the OECD’s 2011 Report on International Engagement in Fragile States Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste. This recent report has only two entries for culture, the first in the context of Timorese identity where it is noted ‘the Timorese are the first to admit that exactly what sort of state they want is under discussion’ (36) and the second in regard to domestic violence which is identified as a ‘previously tolerated’ cultural norm (44). Despite this, for developing countries the engagement of cultural organisations with international partners is a necessary part of building effective government institutions. The efficacy of national cultural organisations is important in enabling small NGO, district and volunteer initiatives through effective policy, funding and other strategic initiatives. Both during the interim government of the United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET), and since independence in 2002, Timor-Leste has seen the development of a diverse range of cultural organisations in the performing arts, visual arts, heritage, museums, libraries and archives. This diversity includes private organisations, NGOs and government-sponsored authorities. In Timor-Leste the Secretariat of State for Culture (SSC), in the Ministry for Education, coordinates and implements policies relating to culture in Timor-Leste in order to fulfill the Government’s priority to use ‘culture to affirm the East Timorese Nation and State’ (Simith 2009). The Secretariat also has a critical role in identifying, and negotiating access to East Timorese cultural material that is no longer in Timor-Leste. In Timor-Leste cultural development cannot be delinked from considerations relating to cultural loss. Colonisation and invasion and the subsequent East Timorese fight for sovereignty disrupted cultural practice, and resulted in the destruction of important repositories of cultural material. Examples include the destruction of the collection held in Bishop Belo’s residence, significant losses from the National Collection, and the systematic looting of cultural material from uma lulik around the country (Riley 2009). In addition, and as a result of gift, partage, purchase and exchange there are large collections of East Timorese cultural material and material about Timor-Leste held in public institutions or private hands outside the country. Further many significant cultural leaders, and the knowledge they held, were lost to the country through death or relocation as diaspora. International engagement is therefore a critical part of the work of cultural development in Timor-Leste and the SSC is working with overseas agencies to identify how best to integrate this material in contemporary institutions in Timor-Leste. The return, in 2009, of the Antoulas Collection is an indication of success of these efforts (SSC 2010). 143 Other international partnerships focus on training and support for infrastructure development best practice and to enable access to relevant training and development programs. This paper examines the development of such partnerships, the challenges faced in developing international partnerships for cultural development, and examines Australian-Timorese partnerships that support museum development. Nation-building and cultural capital An important component of nation building is to assist people to understand and tell the stories of their past, strengthen their identity, and pass their culture, beliefs and values to future generations. This is an important role for the SSC. Unfortunately, many of the kinds of documents usually available for this purpose have been lost during the period of the conflict, including the books and articles that discussed the life, the history and the culture of Timorese people during the period of the Portuguese colonisation (Assis 2006). Under the heading ‘Social Capital’ the Timor-Leste Parliament’s National Strategy proposes that by 2015, The Museum and Cultural Centre of Timor-Leste will be developed to permanently host and interpret key cultural and heritage artefacts in Dili. The centre will hold the geological collection … the archaeological collection … and the ethnographic collection ... [It] will be designed and built to international standards so that sacred artefacts, paintings, books and other items in the collection will be protected from damage from high humidity, fire or other hazards … to ensure that the many high value heritage collections being stored in international collections can be returned to Timor-Leste (RDTL 2011, 65). The National Strategy also recognises that, … if we neglect our cultural and historic roots … we will be overwhelmed by the forces of globalisation and risk losing our unique cultural identity – the very thing we fought so long and hard to preserve (RDTL 2011, 63). How best to align support from overseas agencies with objectives that are culturally specific and support that fundamental concern of what it means to be East Timorese requires strategic management. Aligning Timor-Leste’s strategic aims with the aims of overseas partner organisation is useful, but building strong inter-personal relationships is also critical in order to develop a framework that engenders flexibility and opportunity within more stringent government requirements. Museum development in Timor-Leste Museum development is not new to Timor-Leste. It is thought that in 1973 there was a museum installed in what is now the European Commission building, Casa Europa; but it is not clear what these museums held or how they were managed. In Indonesian times the East Timor Provincial Museum was built at Comoro (Assis 2006) and staffed by both Indonesian and Timorese staff, a number of who now work in the SSC (Riley 2009). Immediately after the Popular Consultation of 30 August 1999 this museum was sacked. Although over 60% of the collection was lost, over 700 cultural objects were rescued. These items form the basis for the National Museum Collection (Assis 2006). In 1999 the World Bank’s Community Empowerment Program (CEP) prioritised cultural development in Timor-Leste, providing USD$2M for an oral history and historical memory program, a cultural centre, a small grants program, and for a local radio network. These activities were ‘to give voice to East Timor’s cultural traditions and experiences’. The CEP 2006 Performance Assessment Report labelled sustainability of the cultural program as ‘unlikely’ (World Bank 2006). In contradiction to this the Division of Culture (now the SSC) staff continued to build cultural programs with UNESCO and other partners for 144 sustainable museum development, developing successful exhibitions in both Timor-Leste and overseas, ongoing staff training programs and a range of other activities. (SSC 2009a) Matthew Totilo (2009, 81) identifies the CEP framework as important for the recognition it gave to Timorese cultural practice. The CEP framework provided for preservation of oral history, creation of a national cultural center and block grants for small-scale history and cultural centers in the villages. This insight showed … that legitimacy can be achieved by linking new ideas from the outside to the sacred inner circle of uma lulik. No other development project in Timor-Leste had made this important connection. This was the same thinking that gave the Church its first bit of legitimacy in Timor and the same thinking that prevented acceptance of the Indonesian administration. Thomas Davis, on the other hand, is critical of the World Bank claiming that, [T]he Bank and official donors share foundational, and mutually reinforcing, assumptions over the benefits of controlling community-based input into reconstruction and development decision-making in post-crisis situations (Davis 2010, 196). International partnerships for cultural preservation were developed almost immediately after the Popular Consultation when INTERFET forces and Museums and Art Galleries of the Northern Territory (MAGNT) staff worked with Sr. Virgilio Simith (now Secretary of State for Culture) to assist in the rescue of objects from the Museum precinct, and relocate them to what had been the Kopassus headquarters in Dili (later Uma Fukun, now Casa Europa). Since then a range of bilateral programs have continued to support the development of cultural institutions in Timor-Leste culturally-focussed international partnerships International engagement is developed and supported by Timor-Leste’s Secretariat of State for Culture in a number of ways including through Government programs; utilising philanthropic support; developing institution to institution programs; and accepting support from individual donors and international agencies. How best to align support and resources that are available from overseas agencies with objectives that are culturally specific and support that fundamental concern of what it means to be East Timorese is not a simple task. Each partnership brings particular benefits while having specific requirements for engagement. Following the conference presentation of this paper there was lively debate, in Tetun, about the extent to which international engagement could compromise the development of East Timorese cultural institutions (TLSA 2011). Some East Timorese members of the audience argued that programs that involved working with institutions in Australia, Japan and Indonesia had the potential to acculturate the way in which East Timorese culture would be studied and represented in the museum. This is a legitimate concern and best addressed by ensuring the alignment of partner programs with the strategic needs of the SSC. (A more nuanced and complete answer that addresses issues of representation and agency would, however, require another paper.) This paper focuses on Australian-Timor-Leste programs but the question of international program relevance is appropriate to all internationally-partnered programs. Government programs Major support for bilateral programs comes from government. In 2003 The Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) supported training programs in Osaka. In 2007 and 2008 the AusAid Australian Leadership Award Fellowship Program (ALAF), supported training under UNESCO’s Museum to Museum program for three staff from the Directorate of Culture at MAGNT, an outcome of which was the exhibition From the Hands of Our Ancestors (SSC 2010) and training at the University of Melbourne, Artlab Australia, National Gallery of Victoria, Powerhouse Museum and Australia Museum. AusAid is the major funder of bilateral international programs in Australia. The ALAF Program lists the following priority areas, 145 … disability and development, economic growth, education, environment, food security, gender, governance, health, human rights, infrastructure, regional stability, rural development and water and sanitation. (AusAID 2011a) AusAid also supports the VIDA (Volunteering for International Development from Australia) program and the AYAD (Australian Youth Ambassadors for Development). Neither has culture in their main objectives and both are guided by AusAID priorities that make no mention of culture, and support ‘the Millennium Development Goals’, which also do not mention culture. Philanthropic organisations and NGOs Many philanthropic organisations support cultural development as a key aim. In Australia the Gordon Darling Foundation and the Myer Foundation have supported cultural programs in Timor-Leste but these have not involved Secretariat staff. NGOs such as Many Hands International, working in Los Palos, also work with the Secretariat on joint program development. Institution to institution programs Institution to institution programs provide strong professional links and sustainable partnerships. In Australia a number of national and state cultural institutions have Timor-Leste as a strategic priority including: National Film and Sound Archives, National Library of Australia, Powerhouse Museum, Australian Museum, Museums and Galleries of the Northern Territory, and Artlab Australia. In 2005 over fifty local councils also had partnerships in Timor-Leste, (Kehi 2006). Partnerships also exist across the tertiary, secondary and primary education sector. Examples of partnership funded by Australian organisations include a report on conservation needs at Uma Fukun and training program undertaken by the University of Melbourne in 2001; regular training programs with staff from MAGNT; and a Museum to Museum Seminar at University of Melbourne with staff and students from UNESCO, MAGNT, the Directorate of Culture, and UNPAZ in 2006. Programs supported by individual donors Individual donors also support bilateral relationships. In 2003 a private donor provided funds to move the museum collection from Uma Fukun to the Ministry of Education before the wet season. In 2002 donors gave money to support the refurbishment of Uma Fukun as a cultural centre. These amounts are small compared to international aid programs, but they are direct and have immediate and highly effective outcomes, generally without major imposts such as complicated reporting or procurement procedures. Program supported by international agencies Australia supports international agencies primarily through its United Nation status. UNESCO, and the World Bank supported the Community Empowerment Program from 1999 until 2006. The Community Empowerment Program (CEP) aimed to reduce poverty ‘supporting inclusive patterns of growth and development’ including the objective: ‘support cultural heritage and social reconciliation’. (World Bank 2002) 2003 museum based training programs were delivered by MAGNT and University of Melbourne in Dili (Gurung 2006). In 2005 UNESCO Jakarta implemented the Museum to Museum program, under the 'UNESCO Programme for the Preservation of Endangered Movable Cultural Properties' to ‘promote international technical cooperation for museums in Least Developed Countries (LDC), Low Income Countries (LIC) and countries in transition and in post conflict situations’, and focussing on the protection, conservation and presentation of ‘endangered movable cultural properties’ (Gurung 2006). Under this program UNESCO supported training at the National Museum in Jakarta and a strategic planning workshop in Dili (assisted by University of Melbourne and UNESCO Jakarta) in 2005. 146 Issues in the development of bilateral museum-focussed programs In the Museum to Museum Program Strategic Planning workshop held in Dili in 2004 staff in the National Directorate of Culture identified the skill development; museum management, documentation, conservation, exhibition, negotiation for repatriation, IT, fundraising, museum design and other associated skills as critical needs (Sloggett 2005). These capacities form the basis of museum development across the globe, but in Timor-Leste they pose particular challenges. Language remains an issue. The official languages in Timor-Leste are Tetun and Portuguese. Access to information in peer-reviewed journals and books is an important part of the development of museum staff, however most material is presently available in the three official ICOM languages, English, French and Spanish or six official UN languages, Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Russian, and Spanish. Having information available in the official languages of Timor-Leste will enable Directorate of Culture staff to support other Timorese cultural organizations that are interested in registration, museum policy and strategic planning, conservation and documentation. The Secretariat website (SSC 2009 b) has links to a number of key documents in Tetun, Portuguese and English, but making training manuals, international conference proceedings, and international museum policies and conventions available in Tetun and Portuguese is an important but expensive task. The Secretariat website also provides English, Portuguese and Tetun pages where legislation and relevant legislative frameworks, permits, and publications can be accessed. This helps international organizations ensure their support is relevant to the needs of Timor-Leste and fits within current strategies, policies and programs. International protocols, policies and conventions are important and include various UN and UNESCO documents such as the Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property; United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples; and Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity. It does not appear that Timor-Leste is a party to the Convention or Declarations. Other relevant documents ICOM’s Museum Definition; Code of Ethics; Strategic Plan, and ICOM’s statements (ICOM 2010). These are important in aligning TimorLeste National Museum development with international programs. International organizations could be encouraged to provide documents in Portuguese and Tetun. Accredited training presents some difficult challenges. The requirement for people to travel overseas for extended periods disrupts careers, dislocates families and often requires learning a new language (both for day to day communication, but more challenging for technical and professional discussions); accessing technical support and infrastructure in Timor-Leste for in-country training and development is difficult. Without a National Museum or Cultural Centre there remains limitations to practically expanding technical and professional training, and building skill sets. While skills development is essential, achieving levels of international best practice requires parity with infrastructure, information and program delivery capability. Finally being in a position to articulate the value of culture within education, health, anti-corruption activities and the like is important given that culture is not a key theme in international aid programs that remain aligned to both donor country interests and to the Millennium Development Goals. There are many critical discussions about the links between education (particularly history), health, community empowerment and culture taking place in the international museum community, within donor organisations and published across a range of disciplines and in a range of countries (see for example Daogo-Guingané 2010, Hutter and Frey 2010, Leach 2006, UNESCO n.d. a, Woolcock et al 2010). Staff in the SSC are well placed to progress these discussions both within government in Timor-Leste and in international forums and to argue effectively for the importance of museum development within Timor-Leste in broader nation building agendas. Conclusion Most government aid funding outside Timor-Leste is aligned to the development priorities of the United Nations and not specifically identified in many government programs. The result of this external alignment 147 is that support for cultural programs is often provided as part of education or governance programs rather than for cultural programs directly. UN member nations align their international aid programs to support the targets of the Millennium Development Goals (MDG). In Australia the objectives of the Australia – Timor-Leste country strategy (strengthening basic health and education service delivery; increasing employment opportunities; supporting improvements in government accountability, transparency and integrity; and building the foundations of a safer community (Australian Government AusAID 2010) address the AusAid themes relating to: Health, family planning and disability; education and training; agricultural productivity; governance; anti-corruption; and, justice and anti-violence against women (Australian Government AusAID 2011b). These in turn support the MDG targets for universal education, reductions in gender inequality, and improvements in child and maternal health and HIV/AIDS treatment (United Nations, n.d. b). Culture, as an inalienable right and critical factor in the achievement of many of these goals, is not mentioned in the AusAid’s themes, strategies or objectives nor in the UN’s MDG targets. The right to practice, access, enjoy and strengthen East Timorese cultural identity was, however, one of the most important motivations for East Timorese to fight so hard, and at such cost, for their sovereignty. Cultural programs have outcomes in health, economic development, and other areas identified in the MDGs. Culture, however, is not visible within these priority areas and its contribution to nation building therefore remains less visible than of other activities. Further, cultural programs suffer when they are judged according to criteria established for assessing health or economic programs. While cultural engagement is rated highly by philanthropic organisations, local councils, and the education sector in Australia, diversifying the partnership base in Timor-Leste increases the complexity of stakeholder management for Timorese partners. As Totilo argues, Timor-Leste is a society that is naturally receptive to outside ideas. Unfortunately, this seems to have worked to their disadvantage, making it too easy to import inappropriate ideas (Totilo 2009, 85). From Timor-Leste’s perspective partnering with international organizations is likely to remain an important part of the work of the SSC, but, as The Paris Declaration (OECD, n.d.) identified, partnerships are most effective if local organization can lead their international partners through ‘effective “leadership” using strategic approaches and good planning’ (AusAID 2008). Cultural organisations are important in ensuring Timorese people can celebrate, preserve and use their history and culture in programs that improve the quality of their lives. Cultural programs provide and enrich opportunities in education, economic development, social cohesion and other areas that are essential for community and national well-being. For international agencies, individuals working in Timor-Leste, and other overseas visitors cultural organisations deliver programs that assist non-Timorese to understand East Timorese history and culture, providing critical insights into what East Timorese people value, and what choices have been made in the past that influence the present and may impact the future. As argued at the beginning of this paper, cultural programs connect communities and provide inter-generational links in ways that support goals in a range of other programs. This benefit is acknowledged within Timor-Leste and encapsulated in documents such as the Government’s Strategic Development Plan 2011 – 2030. It forms the basis for the activity identified in this paper, and much more that has not been included. The fact that culture remains invisible in the language of the major aid organisations is a reflection of the history of these organisations, rather than of the actuality of what is happening within the countries they support. Alignment between the language in aid program documents, and the understanding of the role played by culture in good governance, social well-being and community empowerment, would, however, ensure that the outcomes and value of current partnerships in the cultural arena could be more fully and usefully assessed and supported. It serves no purpose to leave culture invisible in the aid agenda of international organisations and the aid-providing countries. 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AusAID awarded Judicial System Monitoring Programme (JSMP) a human rights grant in 2010 to complete a project with three main objectives: to provide professional development to increase knowledge of health professionals and lawyers of the new Penal Code (2009) and Domestic Violence Law (2010); to build the capacity of participants to understand and fulfil their responsibilities under the new laws; and to improve access to justice and medical treatment to victims of domestic violence. JSMP is a Timorese nongovernment organisation that observes and comments on the legal system, as well as offering some legal services, such as a Victim Support Unit (Judicial System Monitoring Programme 2010). In 2011, JSMP launched three reports: ‘An Overview of the Justice Sector in Timor-Leste 2010’, ‘A Critical Analysis of the Legal Framework’, relating to the protection of victims of Gender Based Crimes in Timor-Leste, and ‘Legal Protection for Victims of Gender Based Violence: Laws Do Not Yet Deliver Justice'. JSMP is very active in the area of gender based violence including domestic violence. Neither lawyers nor health workers had received comprehensive training on the content or implications of these two laws for their professions. JSMP was well placed to conduct the training needed by health and legal professionals. The team knew that an understanding of the content and application of these two pieces of legislation would be a valuable exercise in professional development, yet the research team were not sure what people knew or thought about domestic violence, specifically relating to their work. This project was innovative as it bought together a range of professionals who work with the survivors of domestic violence. Health workers are generally not well trained to detect or manage domestic violence, and while they are capable of treating the symptoms such as rape or physical injury, less emphasis is placed on the social–emotional needs of their patients. Through preliminary interviews with stakeholders, it became clear that many health professionals were not aware that the new law forbidding domestic violence existed, and did not realise that medical records of a patient’s condition were important for a successful prosecution. Interviewees also raised their fears and concerns about appearing in court to give evidence, and did not necessarily understand the process well enough to be able to reassure their victim/survivor patients and support them effectively. Interviews with nurses and midwives who work closely with survivors of domestic violence found that they had little if any training about the legal context of their work and would benefit from understanding more about domestic violence, the new laws, and sharing ideas on how to recognise and support survivors who wish to proceed through the judicial process. Research from other countries suggests that patients who disclose information about their domestic violence experiences to health care providers are often not well supported (Belton 1996; Hegarty and Taft 2001; Morier-Genoud, Bodenmann, Favrat, and Vannotti 2006; Othman and Mat Adenan 2008). JSMP were aware that many legal professionals had not been able to study and apply the Penal Code and Domestic Violence Law. Therefore we included scrutinising the legislation, participating in hypothetical discussions and sharing information with their colleagues in the training program. The expected outcomes were that doctors, nurses and midwives would better understand the legal and social 1 Senior Lecturer, Menzies School of Health Research, Darwin, Australia. 151 implications of domestic violence and therefore feel more confident to identify it, and that lawyers would better understand the legal medical and social implications of domestic violence. We originally thought about 100 people would participate. However, 142 people completed the surveys, 216 people attended workshops in Suai, Dili, Bacau and Occusse, and 34 people agreed to follow-up interviews (note some people may have participated multiple times). This article focuses on the survey conducted prior to the training program. The research team developed a survey and training curriculum following initial consultations with stakeholders. The survey consisted of demographic information; attitudes and opinions; how one would recognise domestic violence; help seeking; previous training; presence of domestic violence in personal networks; and services for survivors. The survey contained closed questions with multiple responses possible, and open questions. After testing, the survey was distributed in four districts where courts exist (Dili, Baucau, Suai, Oecusse). Sampling and recruitment was purposive and only health and legal professionals in the targeted districts were approached. Domestic violence in Timor-Leste Domestic violence is a problem experienced largely by women and children (Watts and Zimmerman 2002; World Health Organization 2005) and in Timor-Leste it is very common (Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women 2009). We use the term ‘domestic violence’, as opposed to ‘family violence’, as it most closely aligns with the adopted Tetun violėnsia domestika. Although domestic violence was recognised prior to its codification in formal law, research suggests there is a widespread perception in Timor-Leste that certain forms of violence have been considered ‘acceptable’ (UNFPA 2007). For example rape in marriage, verbal abuse, husbands beating their wives to ‘educate’ them, and some forms of hitting were considered not serious (ibid.). While there have been several studies that have attempted to measure and describe the pervasiveness of domestic violence and gender-based violence (Alves, Sequeira, Abrantes, & Reis, 2009; Hynes, Robertson, Ward, and Crouse 2004; Joshi and Haertsch 2003), the recent Demographic and Health Survey is the most expansive attempt to date (National Statistics Directorate, Ministry of Finance, & Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste 2010). The Demographic and Health Survey (National Statistics Directorate, et al. 2010) is the first time that a nationally representative sample of nearly 3,000 Timorese women have been asked about physical, emotional and sexual violence. The methodology used internationally recognised indicators of violence, considered ethical issues, and ensured that women were able to stay safe in their houses while answering the questions. Table. 1 shows that nearly 40% of women responded affirmatively to experiencing physical violence since the age of 15. Table 1 – Is domestic violence a problem? 152 The national survey shows that violence occurred often and has affected women from all socio-economic categories. Urban areas had a higher rate than rural areas. The districts with the highest prevalence are Manufahi, Dili, Occussi, Covalima, Lautem and Baucau. The rates range from 75% (Manufahi) to 10% (Aninaro). Domestic violence affected women who had been married, who were currently married as well as the never married. In this national survey women who were wealthier, urbanised and educated reported higher rates of violence. The authors speculate that this may be linked to two factors: first, that these women were more able to recognise violations to their human rights; and second, that the women transgress cultural norms, therefore triggering violent responses from their husband and family. Overwhelmingly husbands and fathers were the most frequent perpetrators; however step-mothers and mothers, boyfriends and siblings were also perpetrators. Women reported that husbands and boyfriends were largely the perpetrators of sexual violence and only 4% of all sexual violence was perpetrated by strangers. Pregnancy did not deter domestic violence and the prevalence during pregnancy ranged from 2.4% to 4.9%. Various types of controlling behaviours were reported by about one third of women. Men in Dili (30%), Emera (22%) and Lautem (16%) were more likely to exert controlling behaviours over their wives. Women experienced physical violence (33.5%), sexual violence (2.9%), and emotional violence (8.3%). Women aged 25-29 were most at risk. However a small number of women (6%) sometimes initiated domestic violence against their husbands. In summary, the national survey demonstrated that domestic violence occurred in all socioeconomic strata and was slightly more prevalent in urban areas than rural. While this survey probably under-reports domestic violence, it remains sobering to consider the number of women and children who experience violence in their homes in Timor-Leste. JSMP Survey Results JSMP needed to ascertain the knowledge and perceptions of health and legal professionals regarding domestic violence in order to provide tailored training. Health workers and lawyers in the four target districts were approached to fill in the JSMP survey2. Forty-four nurses [31%], 27 para-legals [19%], 21 doctors or medical students [14.8%], 21 lawyers [14.8], 14 other categories of workers [10%], 3 counsellors [2.1%], and 4 administrative and finance officers filled in the survey. 142 people responded to the surveys, however many did not answer all the questions. The youngest participant was 20 and the oldest 57 years of age. The majority of respondents were in their 30s. 71 women (50%) and 65 men (46%) completed the survey and all were Timorese except one. Under half, 57 [41%] lived in the towns and others 75 [54%] lived in surrounding villages. Regarding previous training, 92 people [65.7%] said they had never had any type of training regarding domestic violence and 42 people [30%] said they had some previous training. For example, a number of doctors and medical students (11) had received training during their medical studies. The majority of respondents believed that domestic violence was not common and they agreed that it affected all society, not only the poor and uneducated. People were of equal opinion about whether alcohol caused domestic violence and that it is traditional for men to control women. Half of the respondents also equally thought that women could leave the situation if they wanted to, and that women provoked domestic violence. The majority felt that if someone in your family hit you then it was domestic violence and that domestic violence was justified at times. At times there were high levels of ambivalence in answering some questions which were left blank. Respondents were asked to identify helpful people in the community for victims to approach regarding domestic violence (see Table 2). Local police, women’s NGOs, family members, female lawyers, the Catholic Church, female doctors and JSMP were considered helpful. Male friends, male lawyers and male doctors were perceived as less helpful and traditional leaders even less. Very few people believed it to be a completely private matter. 2 It is not possible to use a telephone directory or postal service in Timor-Leste at the present time. 153 Table 2 – Who could victims of domestic abuse contact for help? Helpful person Number Percentage Local Police 116 [ 82.9%] Women’s NGO 82 [58.6%] A family member 68 [48.6%] Female Lawyer 59 [42.1%] Church 59 [42.1%] Female Doctor 51 [36.4 %] UN Police 44 [34.1%] JSMP 43 [30.7] Female friend 36 [25.7%] Male Lawyer 30 [21.4%] Nurse or Midwife 29 [20.7%] Male Doctor 24 [17.1%] Male friend 20 [14.3%] Traditional leaders 5 [3.9%] No-one it is a private matter 2 [1.4%] I am not sure 1 [0.7%] * Note multiple answers possible When respondents were asked what would stop people reporting domestic violence, they stated that embarrassment, fear of prejudice, fear of losing their children or home, not being believed, and a desire to protect their partner or family would be inhibitive (see Table 3). One midwife commented, ‘Sometimes victims come to us but they never say that their husband hit them or tried to hack them with a machete because they are afraid of their husbands.’ Table 3 – What would stop people reporting domestic violence? Inhibiting factor Number Percentage Embarrassment 81 [57.9%] Fear of prejudice 78 [55.7%] Fear of losing children or home 69 [49.3 %] Fear of not being believed 62 [44.3 %] Desire to protect the partner/ family 66 member [47.1%] 154 Concern about confidentially 34 [24.3%] Unclear of where to go for help 31 [22.1%] Nothing 18 [12.9% * Note multiple answers possible Respondents were asked if they personally knew anyone who was affected by domestic violence, and many disclosed knowing close family members and friends (see Table 4). Table 4 – Do you know anyone who is affected by domestic violence? Who? Number Percentage A current or previous romantic partner 73 52.1 A female colleague 50 35.7% A female family member 48 34.3% A male family member 37 26.4% Friend 36 25.7% A male colleague 21 15.0% Not sure 18 12.9% I would rather not answer 16 11.4% No one I know 10 7.1%% * Note multiple answers possible Regarding services for survivors, the respondents (130) said that survivors should be provided with legal advocacy (56 people), medical assistance (47 people), victim support (24 people), motivation and training (15 people), safe houses (6 people) and investigation and prosecution services (5 people). They stated these types of services should be provided by the government, women’s organisations, the UN, police, lawyers, doctors, other health personnel, JSMP, Pradet (NGO dealing with victims of gender based violence) and community leaders. One medical student felt the Church should take a leading role, ‘The Church and priests should help the victims in my opinion because many people go to the Church in order to solve their problems.’ This raises the issue of whether the clergy feel trained and supported to deal with this complex social problem. Discussion and Conclusion Timor-Leste is signatory to several international treaties which aim to protect women and children from violence. One way to actualise principles contained in human rights declarations is to promulgate national laws and promote them. The CEDAW Committee in 2009 was acutely conscious of the lack of data on domestic violence and that little had been done to translate the Convention and its Optional Protocol to women or the community in general. The Committee also was highly aware that women’s access to justice is very difficult in practice due to illiteracy, language barriers, getting to court, the pre-eminence of the 155 traditional justice system, legal fees, and a basic lack of information regarding women’s rights and assistance to pursue their rights (Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women, 2009: see page 4). The National Health and Demographic Survey data cannot be ignored; especially the finding that women in urban areas suffer more domestic violence. Up until this study, there was only anecdotal evidence and some smaller studies intimating the scale of the problem. The respondents in the JSMP survey knew of people among their networks of friends and family who suffered domestic violence; however they believed it was not common in the wider community. We can now be reasonably confident that broad scale education, public debate, policy formulation, service provision and enactment of laws are needed. In Timor-Leste, the state is not yet able to provide all the requirements contained in the domestic violence law to protect women and children, and non-government organisations will likely be recruited to this task. In interpreting the JSMP survey it must be remembered that this was not the general public, but rather a select group of educated Timorese working in the fields of law and health. The JSMP survey enabled the development of a pragmatic curriculum, and also served the purpose of sensitising the target groups to seek more information regarding domestic violence. Overall the professionals were keenly interested in understanding domestic violence and how the law applied to their work. The survey demonstrated that local ideas about combating domestic violence are beginning to form but are in their early stages, and do not always take into account a human rights approach. It is perhaps not surprising that in 2011, very few professionals were confident in the content and meaning of the law, as many had never read it or had it explained to them.3 It would be important to review the curriculae of current medical students, law students, nurses and midwives to assess how effectively they are being taught about domestic violence and how to respond. Professional skills development could be offered through professional associations and workplaces to increase capacity in the workforce. Students of law, medicine, nursing and midwifery need to have domestic violence included in their teaching plans and learn how to deal with it in a professional manner. Local police also need in-service training regarding their duties and obligations under the law. Further advocacy is needed to remind the government of their commitment to write policy and provide budgets for the services that victims of domestic violence are entitled too. The planned elections for 2012 may be a testing ground. A national process to socialise the domestic violence law into the succo and aldea levels is of national importance considering the reported levels of domestic violence in the National Health and Demographic Survey. Acknowledgements The author would like to thank the people of Timor-Leste who participated in the research and workshops. We would not have been able to deliver the content of the workshops without the help of Dr Rui de Araujo, Dr. Silverio Pinto Baptista, Luisa Marcal and Dra Maria Agnes Bere . The authors also acknowledge Jeswynn Yogaratnum who assisted with educational and legal input, as well as data collection and analysis. A thank you also to all JSMP staff for their dedication to justice and human rights; particularly those staff in the Women’s Justice Unit; thanks to Amrita Kapur and Patricia Pais who assisted in monitoring the program, curriculum design and data collection; Julia Mansour and Lisa Mortimer assisted with the grant application and communications. The project and research activity was funded by AusAID. The author would also like to thank the anonymous reviewer. Bibliography Alves, M. D. F., I. M. M. Sequeira, L. S. Abrantes, and F. Reis 2009, Baseline Study on Sexual and Gender-based Violence in Bobonaro and Covalima, Dili, Asia pacific Support Collective Timor-Leste. Belton, S. 1996, Listen to Us: Women's experience of disclosing domestic violence to their health care practitioner in South Australia, Honours thesis, University of South Australia, Adelaide. 3 All laws in Timor-Leste are produced in Portuguese language at present which seriously impedes the dissemination of the content to many Timorese. 156 Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women 2009, Concluding observations of the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women Timor Leste, New York, United Nations. Hegarty, K. L., and A. Taft, A. 2001, ‘Overcoming the barriers to disclosure and inquiry of partner abuse for women attending general practice’, Aust NZ J Public Health, 25: 433-7. Hynes, M., K. Robertson, J. Ward and C. Crouse 2004, ‘A determination of the prevalence of gender-based violence among conflict-affected populations in East Timor’, Disasters, 28(3): 294-321. Joshi, V., and M. Haertsch 2003, Prevalence of Gender-Based Violence in East Timor, International Rescue Committee East Timor, Canadian International Development Agency, United Nations Population Fund. Judicial System Monitoring Programme, 2010, ‘Judicial System Monitoring Programme - home page’, http://www.jsmp.minihub.org/, viewed 12 June 12. Morier-Genoud, C., P. Bodenmann, P. Favrat and M. Vannotti, 2006, ‘Violence in primary care: Prevalence and follow-up of victims’, BMC Family Practice, 7(1): 15. National Statistics Directorate, Ministry of Finance, & Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste 2010, Timor-Leste Demographic and Health Survey 2009-10, Dili, Timor-Leste and ICF Macro, Calverton, Maryland, USA. Othman, S., and N. A. Mat Adenan 2008, ‘Domestic violence management in Malaysia: A survey on the primary health care providers’, Asia Pacific Family Medicine, 7(1): 2. UNFPA 2007, ‘Addressing Gener-Based Violence in East And South East Asia’ in M. N. Kisekka (ed), Bankok, Country Techical Services Team for East and South East Asia. Watts, C., and C. Zimmerman 2002, ‘Violence against women:global scope and magnitude.’,The Lancet, 359: 12321237. World Health Organization 2005, WHO Multi-country Study on Women's Health and Domestic Violence against Women: Initial results on prevalence, health outcomes and women's responses -summary report, Geneva, WHO. 157 23 A Political Ecology of Land Tenure in Timor Leste: Environmental Contestation and Livelihood Impacts in the Nino Konis Santana National Park Alexander Cullen Introduction The emergence of community based conservation management has proved to be a preferential alternative to traditional exclusionary principles of ecological conservation since its introduction. The implementation of community co-management in high value conservation areas seeks improved ecological outcomes while encouraging a greater sustainability of resource access reliant local livelihood strategies compared with classical models (Brockington 2001, 83). Nonetheless, local usufruct rights are altered and the differing aims of conservationists and local inhabitants regarding utilization of resources frequently leads to experiences of resource conflict and use right contestation.1 Biodiversity based conservation management is a relatively new concept to Timor Leste, the newest nation in South East Asia. The young country is struggling with food security issues and development hurdles but has endeavoured to make progress regarding conservation management in areas identified as environmentally important. However, three quarters of the population are rural with many reliant on customary access to forest products in high-value conservation areas for a diversified livelihood strategy. In Timor Leste the area deemed most important for habitat conservation management lies in the far east of the country (McWilliam 2006, 253). Located in Lautem district are prominent stands of unique forest, rich coral and Timor’s only significant fresh water lake. Clarification of the area’s biological significance (Trainor et al 2007), as well as long standing environmental concerns have led to the creation of the country’s first national park (RoTL Government Resolution 8/2007). However, the area is still home to numerous communities that traditionally depend on agricultural livelihoods administered through customary systems of resource management. This paper aims to present the preliminary findings of recent research striving to understand livelihood challenges of those living in the Nino Konis Santana National Park in the district of Lautem. The research was largely conducted through personal interviews with a wide spectrum of the community in each of the sucos, local NGOs and affiliated government departments. Rather than the exploration of inherent conservation management mechanics or critical theoretical engagement, this paper seeks to commence discussion on experiences of current livelihood adaptations and environmental discourses through a political ecology framework. This facilitates the investigation of linkages between environmental change and the positioning of political power through land tenure changes, and aims to present the findings in a fashion relevant to Timorese stakeholders. This paper recognizes land tenure as the social relationships between different actors that govern use rights of access to land and resources (Jackson 1995). These relationships represent the institutional dimension of environmental sustainability. Although ownership of land is an important notion when discussing land use, the quality of access is what is most relevant in the provision of local livelihoods and determines the scope of property rights (Wiley 2008). In Timor Leste, local concepts of customary ownership and access are not clearly delineated, but entangled in a mesh of historical narratives. Traditional, Portuguese, resistance and new state heritages are inter-woven, making these terms difficult to clearly articulate. Although private and state ownership of land exists in Los Palos (but may be contested), present land tenure regimes are generally related to clan and suco membership through complex informal 1 See: Agrawal and Redford 2009; Birkes 2004; Chapin 2004; Escobar 1998. 158 customary systems. In general families use land for farming crops such maize, cassava, beans and sometimes rice. In addition to crop farming, access to forests, grazing and marine resources are also key livelihood activities. Traditionally, the majority of agricultural gardens (toos) have been farmed with slash and burn techniques. Local farmers claim that the soil is quite poor and rocky in most areas and therefore nutritionally fortified by burning vegetation. This results in a strong harvest the first year with diminishing results in subsequent years. Generally most areas of the national park require farmers to move to a new field every 2-3 years. The old fields are usually left fallow and planted with coconut, teak or other useful trees that act as ownership/use markers. Second-generation trees and vegetation will begin to re-grow and the farmer will not return to clear the field for use again until after 10-20 years, although this varies. In areas that are steeply sloped and rockier, harvests are lower and a shorter use period is preferred. Notwithstanding toos use, communities have traditionally possessed access to forest stands for timber, firewood and non-timber forestry products. A diversity of other livelihood activities are also crucial including fishing in communities with coastal access, and the large freshwater lake of Iralaolao. Hunting has also traditionally been a common activity with possum, monkey, deer and wild pig as favoured game. Many villagers claim a preference for the taste of “wild meat” to domesticated animals. Background In August 2008 the Nino Konis Santana National Park was inaugurated as an IUCN category 5 park, permitting a strong, sizeable community access to resources and purported co-management. The terrestrial area of the park totals 68 000 ha comprising 6 sucos: Tutuala, Mehara, Com, Barol, Muipitine and Lore. Although formal management has yet to be properly implemented, a number of rules were imposed in order to assist in proceeding with conservation aims. These included: • • • Prohibition on clearing new fields; Prohibition of hunting; and Prohibition of cutting trees.2 To assist communities with transitioning to their new livelihood challenges the state purportedly arranged for greater availability of tractors and augmented access to new farming techniques. Preliminary Findings Since the declaration of the national park, livelihoods of those located within its borders have experienced numerous adaptations and impacts. Many of these impacts are intricately interconnected and relate to wider transformations occurring at district and national levels, as well as temporally. Some of the most significant outcomes include a general decrease in food security and access to land, an increase in land conflicts, 2 At the time of research legislation existed governing prohibited activities in the national park area, but these were related to previous provisions such as UNTAET Regulation No 2000/17 prohibits cutting of forest for non-traditional purposes across Timor Leste; and UNTAET no 2000/19 which protects 15 zones, including areas now inside the national park, but allows for traditional hunting of non-endangered species and cutting of trees in a sustainable non mechanized matter. The resolution 8/2007 created the national park and listed the removal, capture and killing of plant or animal species as prohibited but also allowed for protection measures of collection due to normal agricultural activity. This makes the legality of certain activities in the area vague. It seems that despite the passing of legislation, little by way of implementation and enforcement has occurred on the ground and such activities were widely practiced and not considered illegal. The vast majority of those interviewed (local villager and local agricultural department civil servants) commented that the inauguration was the event that ushered in the commencement of prohibited activities. Despite wide testament to these rules, no evidence of formal planning or management has been sourced. 159 changes in the methods and social arrangements of hunting, and impacts to traditional law and social capital. Such effects are unequally distributed through and across communities. The most significant impact has been lowered food security in communities. Villagers in general have been restricted from clearing new land in the forest and encouraged to move or use fields close to village settlements. This limitation on land use has been problematic for communities because many are unable to perform slash and burn farming regimes and less land is accessible for preparing fields. Many farmers depend upon access to new fields with large vegetation cover for burning to ensure crop growth at significant levels. Farmers generally cite poor soil, proliferation of rocks, sloped areas and a lack of chemical or natural fertiliser necessitating a slash and burn system. The prohibition on clearing vegetated land has contributed to significantly lower outputs with some interviewees expressing a lack of value in using old gardens because the outputs are so low. Many villagers claim their use of already cleared fields is hindered by a lack of “modern farming” skills that would be needed for flat land annual farming. The deficit of available forested areas has contributed to increased contestation for previously cleared land close to the settlements as villages strive to produce harvests at their former levels. The weather conditions of 2010 compounded problems of low harvests with some interviewees commenting that adjusting to the adverse conditions has been hindered by the lack of available land. The lower harvest has meant that most communities do not have surplus to sell, a livelihood necessity commonly used for education costs and the purchase of food staples such as rice. The rising cost of rice during 2010 created conditions of increased difficulty. Land Conflicts Competition for land not proscribed for toos use has contributed to increased land conflicts. Families have sought or are seeking to reclaim access to land close to settlement areas that they believe they have permanent use rights to. Often this is from other families currently using it. Land ploughed by state tractors to encourage use or invested with other and improvements is commonly targeted and often preludes rising conflict between multiple families. Some villagers have expressed concern that tractor access is controlled through family or party relationships connected to bureaucrats. Although wariness is required regarding such assertions, it is interesting to note that one interviewee has claimed that political dimensions inherent in the dispensing of tractor use have hindered traditional “adat” processes of reconciling these disputes. The majority of those experiencing reduced access to land are concerned that there will not be adequate land or resources accessible for future generations. In the past wide cleared grass areas close to villages have often been used for grazing. The movement of more gardens into such areas because of restrictions on forest clearing is creating competition for space. This tension will increase in the future with plans to ban domestic animals from the forest. Farmers are also concerned that grazing animals are invading fields resulting in greater maintenance time (which require the utilization of forest resources that villages believe they aren’t allowed access too) in fields where harvests are already low. Impact on Hunting Practices It is certain that the new rules governing use of national park land have affected hunting. However, discerning the exactness of such occurrence is difficult. This is because villagers are aware the activity is prohibited and show concern about disclosing information that may implicate them. This difficulty is aggravated because the nature of hunting has changed from that of a common group activity frequently described as a social hobby, to one conducted alone. Therefore, the stigmatization of the act and fear of prosecution under government prohibition has led to a form of hunting performed in stealth from community viewing resulting in little opportunity for overt observation as was common before the park’s inauguration. The selling of wild meat has also progressively become more veiled and less likely to be sold 160 in the street or the market. It is now more likely to be sold quietly door-to-door or only to trusted acquaintances. What has been observed is that different areas are experiencing different levels of hunting. Some (but not all) hunters have indicated a rise in the number of animals hunted and the need to travel further away from the village to locate game. This sometimes includes moving outside their suco boundaries. The activity is most apparent in areas where hunting is accessible and people have been experiencing greater livelihood shocks. This strategy ensures a steadier supply of protein and supplements lost income from low harvests. The failed harvests of 2010 exacerbated these shocks leading to greater hunting participation compared to previous years. Many hunters express vindication regarding their participation in an illegal activity because of a lack of alternatives. Those that do not participate regularly believe they are enduring a greater livelihood insecurity compared to those that continue to hunt, particularly if alternative livelihood activities are unavailable. The shift from communal hunting to individual hunting has eroded some traditional social networking activities that involved group exchanges of game. This includes combined annual hunts that are used to act as a signifier of continued social cohesion between different communities. Another is the feasting of hunted deer in recognition of community efforts in preparing gardens for planting. Individual monetary payment is now expected in liu of the feast, which only richer community members can afford. Access to trees and timber The prohibition on cutting trees has numerous created livelihood difficulties although many interviewees have also claimed environmental improvements such as better water access and rainfall. The cultivation of timber trees and their sale is an integral part of funding provision for education, future livelihood insecurity or events that necessitate large monetary inputs such as cultural ceremonies or weddings. Commonly trees such as teak are planted on land to mark use or ‘ownership’ and when children are young, so that harvesting for sale can take place when future education costs arise. Upon the establishment of the national park a licence of three “cubics” (cubic metres) per family was enforced with greater cogency, usually limited to purposes of housing construction. Some villagers specify only trees originally planted by the owners as deemed accessible, but opinion seems to vary between communities. Many families claim that three cubics are not enough to build a house. Moreover, to pay for the chainsaw used to cut the timber usually means relinquishing 1 or 2 of the cubics. This ban is affecting families that rely on timber to assist in a diversity of livelihood strategies, particularly during times of stress. Some believe that they have an inalienable right to trees that their ancestors planted, indicating a struggle over re-determination of resource ownership. Despite the prohibition on the felling of trees for timber and a general decrease in such activity, illegal cutting continues. In some areas where sandalwood is more prevalent, it was cut after the inauguration of the national park despite being immature and not yet of significant quality. Typically this was not done by owners, but by those that saw certain restricted trees as possessed through harvest rights and through the removal of these rights, open to exploitation. This was carried out before serious implementation of forestry protection. Some community members continue crossing village boundaries to cut sandalwood and illegally selling it to outsiders. Firewood Although firewood gathering is understood by local villagers as an unrestricted activity, only ground collection is sanctioned and sale is not allowed.3 Many claim their access to firewood has not been hindered by the declaration of the national park and source sufficient quantities are found in their own field areas or 3 Such restrictions are not limited only to the national park area but are applicable to all forested areas under UNTAET Reg 2000/17. Many local stakeholders interviewed indicated that the advent of the national park inauguration has led to such restrictions being put into practice and considered serious. 161 living site. However, when stocks run low they must go past park boundaries, competing with others who have stated they have encountered issues with firewood abundance. Despite a supposed ban on the selling of firewood, the activity continues in all sucos, however mostly on a small scale. In some areas in Barol and Com, firewood is sold openly and regularly collected for transport to Los Palos or to Baucau for sale. This has been described as large trucks filled with firewood and transported to markets that prove more lucrative than individual sales. Consultation concerning the purpose of the National Park Although some state actors claim otherwise, none of the interviewees indicated that consultation regarding national park implementation and related issues to their livelihoods had taken place. Some community members were given information but this was not distributed evenly and not well explained. The majority of residents inside the national park are unaware of its exact purpose, unsure of future management plan changes and any benefits described have been conveyed to them by state agencies and are not well understood. For example, a common belief amongst local residents is that the park is to preserve resources for their future generations who will then be granted full access. Many also cite that the prohibitions in place are having a positive effect on climate change and encouraging more wild animals. Aside from more wild animals for hunting, village members are unable to give responses indicating why such a phenomenon is positive or how the cutting trees leads to climate change. Other communities believe acts of individual tree cutting are the cause of non-desired weather. This reflects incorporation of the new term “climate change” (mudansa klimatika) into local epistemologies that can be potentially dangerous to future resource management and social cohesion. New understandings of social relations to resource access and historical heritages of past socialpolitical institutions are infusing with new State expressions of conservation. These are producing an entanglement of differing expectations and resource use challenges across the national park. Two examples that highlight the myriad of complexity bound up with the implementation of conservation land tenure take place within Suco Barol and Suco Com. Barol is a village that will potentially encompass the least amount of core conservation areas in the national park. In a sub-aldeia of Sepilatan some of the villagers have received farming training in “modern methods”4 from a local NGO and the government tractors have plowed their fields. In general these families claim they are now harvesting a greater amount than before the national park declaration. However, the general rockiness of soil in the main aldeia renders the area untillable by tractors. The majority of local households here are experiencing crop harvests far below pre-declaration levels resulting in economically diminished power. Attempted adaptions to livelihood strategies are being made through the sale of firewood but are they still experiencing a greater deal of food insecurity. Com village is separated geographically into 2 groups of aldeias; the “up” (three aldeias elevated on the hill south from the coast) and the “down” (three aldeias along the beach where the majority of tourism businesses are located). The coastal area is claimed through traditional tenure by the aldeia Vailovae, but now also accommodates two other aldeias moved by the Indonesian government. Generally, the newer aldeias make greater use of fields further from the village area in the forest. Vailovae have experienced less livelihood impact from the national park declaration as they hold access to land close to the village and have diversified livelihoods into tourism businesses and kiosks. The other aldeias have been restricted from similar activities due to prohibitions made by the original owners in the interest of their aldeia and their desire for the two relocated aldeias to return to their original land. The large disproportion of livelihood impact experienced by the two aldeias has compounded adjustments to the problematic weather of 2010. 4 “Modern Methods” is the syntax used by local residents for the farming methods encouraged by the Dept of Agriculture which is differentiated from swidden farming through mechanisnation, occasional focus on chemical inputs, new seed varieties and a sedentary approach to the tilling of land. 162 Many of these residents have shifted to fishing despite a lack of experience creating greater competition for inshore fish stocks and a greater focus on hunting. Some claim that the greater competition for fish sales in the market is resulting in experienced fishermen expending greater efforts on hunting so as to ensure income from the sale of wild meat. Discussion The conservation values inherent in the establishment of the national park have occurred through the implementation of a burgeoning environmentalist discourse fostered by the state and conservationist INGOs. Thus, in many ways the struggle for resource management in the national park is a struggle over meanings (Lia 1996; Berry 1988). Communities are experiencing livelihood challenges transpiring through a modification of customary tenure towards a conservation tenure sustained by an ontological system that frames government expertise and scientific concepts (such as climate change) as more legitimate than local management systems which are regarded as unsustainable. The state has sought to redefine the area locally as ecologically rich and significantly bio-diverse, rather than that of resource necessities and ancestral claims to land use. Local people generally experience difficulty comprehending these new knowledge systems or locating pathways for the articulation of “legitimate” claims. The outcome is diminished community control over customary land and greater state control over usufruct rights through semi-formal management. The state has sought to reassure residents that traditional cosmological ties to land are recognized, as demonstrated through actions such as the preservation of lulic markers and strong indications towards recognition of customary resource management (McWilliam 2006). Nonetheless, the quality of access organized through customary relationships to land has been substantially reduced. Due to the complexity of access and ownership rights in Fatuluku resource management systems, it is uncertain how the recognition of ownership has impacted marginalized groups such as those that historically have been granted use rights by customary powerbrokers but lack traditionally recognized “ownership”. The willingness to appreciate traditional ownership but diminish rights of decision making sidelines the legitimacy of customary land management and claims to use. Critical analysis of livelihood adjustments to national park management plans have not occurred and therefore local communities that rely on farming or access to forestry are experiencing impacts. Before the establishment of the national park McWilliam speculated that restricting local access and exploitation of forest reserves in Timor would prove counter productive (2003), which seems to have been a sound conjecture. Communities are struggling to adapt livelihoods to the changes sought by conservation outcomes and seek support mechanisms through a variety of different resource uses include illegal ones that are detrimental to conservation aims. These actions may be framed as acts of passive resistance to a foreign knowledge system of resource management (Scott 1985; Escobar 1996, 339) and take place for a variety of reasons that differ in importance across the national park. Livelihood struggles, lack of consultation, a perceived loss of ownership of resources and cultural management of land, and anger directed against the idea of conservation are all reasons prompting resistance in varying degrees of importance across national park communities. If the State desires local communities to cease illegal activities, programs or planning that can offset the need for activities counter-productive to the aims of national park conservation by state agencies are required. Interestingly many communities still seek job creation through opportunities such as the establishment of “factories” in their village areas. How these would fit in the national park model is unknown, but mostly unlikely. Such desires reinforce the misunderstanding of national park concepts and failure of these concepts to be communicated to communities. Communities with strong intact cultural systems and good control over community land seem to be less vulnerable than communities that have been trans-located under Indonesian rule and lack cultural validity to the areas they now occupy. This is becoming increasingly relevant as more community members begin to challenge each other over available land close to settled communities. 163 Conclusion The implementation of a national park conservation regime has significantly altered the way local families interact with their environment and hence their livelihoods. Although the co-management model of conservation aims to emphasise local involvement in decision-making as well as retention of “customary ownership”, preliminary findings suggest that local management input is lacking and traditional access to land use has been significantly curtailed. Those that rely heavily on slash and burn agriculture for standard harvest levels have been affected the most. Hunting operations have changed but it is difficult to yet discern all dimensions although a decrease in some areas and increase in others, particularly since the rains of 2010 seems likely. Many stakeholders do not understand or hold conflicting views regarding the purpose of the national park. Conflicts over land have occurred and will likely increase in the future. It has been emphasised in previous research that development of effective local institutions as representative partner organisations and conflict management mechanism for forestry resources is required to achieve operational efficiency in Timor (McWilliam 2003). The prohibition on cutting trees has affected many who rely on planted trees for a diversity of livelihood options during times of stress. The community desires stronger consultation from the state to assist with better management planning. These effects are felt across all sucos in the park but not distributed uniformly amongst communities particularly, those that are aided by State tractor programs or those with access to a greater diversity of livelihood opportunities. Inevitably formalised comprehension of land rights regimes through the implementation of the national park is now marginalising local traditional ones. It is important that local discourses are afforded equal legitimacy in the voicing of concerns over resource management. The six sucos are sites where conservation aims and prestige at national and international political spaces intersect with local community livelihood strategies. This occurs through a discourse that sidelines local social constructions of their environment and resource management. Without accounting for local livelihood needs the implementation of national park conservation strategies has in many places caused detrimental effects. This is the opposite of what the park endeavours to achieve and has impacted numerous local livelihoods creating an environment of greater vulnerability. Bibliography Agrawal, A. and K, Redford 2009, ‘Conservation and Displacement: An Overview’, Conservation & Society 7(1): 1-10. Berry, S .1988 ‘Concentration Without Privatization? Some Consequences of Changing Patterns of Rural Land Control in Africa’, in Downs, R. E. and S. P. Reyna (eds), Land and Society in Contemporary Africa, Hanover, NH, University Press of New England, pp. 53-75. Birkes, F. 2004, ‘Re-thinking Community Based Conservation’, Conservation Biology, 18(3): 621-630. Brockington, Dan (2002), Fortress Conservation: The Preservation of the Mkomazi Game Reserve, Tanzania, Oxford, International African Institute. Chapin, M. 2004, ‘A Challenge to Conservationists’, World Watch, 17(6): 17-31. Escobar, A 1998, ‘Whose Knowledge, Whose nature? Biodiversity, Conservation, and the Political Ecology of Social Movements’, Journal of Political Ecology, 5: 53-80. --- 1996, ‘Construction Nature, Elements for a Post-structuralist Political Ecology’, Futures, 28(4): 325-343. Jackson, C. 1995, ‘Environmental Reproduction and Gender in the Third World’, People and the Environment. Morse and Stocking, London. Li TM 1996, ‘Images of Community: Discourse and Strategy in Property Relations’, Development and Change, 27: 501-527. McWilliam, A. 2003, ‘New Beginnings in East Timorese Forest Management’, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 34: 307-327. --- 2006, ‘Fataluku Forest Tenures and the Conis Santana National Park in East Timor’ in Reuter, Ed (ed), Sharing the Earth Dividing the Land, ANU E Press, Canberra Australia. Scott, J 1985, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance, Yale University Press, New Haven. 164 Trainor, C. R. et al. 2007, Important Bird Sites in Timor Leste: Key site for Conservation, Cambridg,. UK, Birdlife International. Wiley, LA 2008, ‘Custom and Commonage in Africa Rethinking the Orthodoxies’, Land Use Policy, 25: 43–52. 165 24 Agronomic Responses and Nitrogen Use Efficiency of Local and Introduced Corn (Zea Mays L.) Genotypes to Different Levels and Sources of Nitrogen in Two Corn Growing Areas in Timor-Leste Agustinho da Costa Ximenes The experiment was conducted during dry season from May to September 2009 in two maize growing areas in Timor-Leste (East Timor) with different climatic and soil characteristics to evaluate the agronomic response, productivity and nitrogen (N) use efficiency of five maize genotypes (local variety, Sele, Suwan 5, IPB var 4 and USM var 10) under eight N fertilizer treatments: [control (without fertilizer); P and K without N; 30 kg N per ha (100% organic); 30 kg N per ha (50% organic + 50% inorganic); 30 kg N per ha (100% inorganic); 60 kg N per ha (100 organic); 60 kg N per ha (50% organic + 50% inorganic); and 60 kg N per ha (100% inorganic)]. The experiment was arranged in split-split plot with five varieties and three replications. The result indicated that growth and yield of maize varieties were better in Lospalos than in Baucau. The application of N fertilizer at 30-60 kg N per ha did not improve the growth and yield of maize plants due to water limitation in both sites. The N recovery efficiency of maize plants were not also affected by N fertilizer application, although Sele and Suwan 5 had relatively higher N recovery efficiency. On the other hand, the internal efficiency of N increased with increasing fertilizer application (0-60 kg N per ha) in 100 % organic fertilizer application. This was also observed on local variety and Sele in Baucau (severe water limitation), and on Suwan 5 in Lospalos (unstressed during early vegetative stage). Generally, Suwan 5 and the local variety had better overall performance in Lospalos and in Baucau, respectively. Further evaluation is needed using varying sources of N fertilizer at 0-30 kg N per ha for possible improvement of yield and improving nitrogen use efficiency (NUE) of these genotypes during wet season where water is not a limiting factor in Timor-Leste. Introduction Maize and rice are the main production of staple food crops and dominate the agricultural systems in Timor-Leste. Many factors affect grains yield of maize such as variety, level-source of nitrogen fertilization and local of planting due to different soil and climatic characteristics. Result of maize grain yield depends on the adaptability of the introduced varieties compared with the local variety that is higher adaptated to local conditions. However, to the trend towards higher level of N fertilizer rate and sources, introduced high yield variety respond more favourably. Results of maize yield depend on characteristic of the soil and climatic per location, therefore study on the effect of different locations is necessary to compare soil and climatic condition. Maize yield is greatly affected by fertilizer applications, and N is one of the essential nutrients that often limit the crop yield. Gomez (1984) reported that corn yield is improved by increasing level of N fertilizer application. One of the alternatives to increase corn production on per unit area basis is the cultivation and introduction of high yielding genotypes that are adapted to Timor-Leste conditions. In addition, the response of such genotypes to fertilizer application, particularly nitrogen (N) and combination of organic and inorganic fertilizer should be considered into account. Hence, a study to evaluate the performance of selected corn genotypes grown under varying N fertilizer levels and sources was conducted in two major corn production areas in Timor-Leste. The purpose of the present investigation was to study the effect of eight nitrogen fertilizer rates and sources in five varieties of maize in two different growing maize areas of Timor-Leste. 166 Material and Method The experiment was conducted from May to September 2009 in two major corn growing areas in TimorLeste, namely: Lospalos, Lautem District and Baucau, Baucau District. Three Maize genotypes (local variety, Sele and Suwan five), that were initially evaluated to have high yield potential under Timor-Leste conditions, and two maize genotypes (IPB Var 4 and USM var 10) from the Philippines were grown under eight fertilizer treatments (0 F, 0 N + PK, 30 kg N (100% OF), 30 kg N (50% OF + 50% IF), 30 kg N (100% IF), 60 kg N (100% OF), 60 kg N (50% OF + 50% IF), 60 kg N (100% IF) . The experiment was laid out in split-split plot in randomized complete block design with three replications. The two locations served as the main plot, eight fertilizer treatments served as the subplots, while the five corn genotypes were the sub-subplots. The experiment occupied a total area of 3,877.5 m2, with 120 experimental plots per location, the plot size was 5 x 4.5m. Table 1 – Chemical characteristics of the soil in the experimental sites at Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste LOSPALOS SOIL PARAMETER BAUCAU METHOD OF ANALYSIS pH 6.68 6.67 Potentiometric method Organic matter (%) 3.27 3.67 Walkey – Black method Total N 0.24 0.26 Kjeldahl method Available P (ppm) 32.64 101.58 Bray 1 method Available K (ppm) 131.87 147.95 Bray 1 method (%) Analyses were done at the Soil Laboratory, Faculty of Agriculture, University Udayana, Bali, Indonesia. Statistical Analysis The analysis of variance was computed using the Statistical Analysis System (SAS version 6.12). Treatment mean comparison was done using Least Significant Difference (LSD). Results and Discussion Table 2 – Ear length of five corn genotypes grown in Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste, 2009, Dry Season (DS). GENOTYPE EAR LENGTH (cm) Lospalos Baucau Mean Local 13.84 12.57 13.21 b Sele 14.44 13.1 13.77 ab Suwan 5 14.92 13.12 14.02 a IPB Var 4 12.78 11.98 12.38 c USM Var 10 12.72 12.04 12.38 c Mean 13.74 a 12.56 b Means followed by a common letter in a column (variety mean) and in row (location mean) are not significantly different at 5% level of significance by Least Significant Difference (LSD). Ear length was not significantly affected by the fertilizer treatment, the differences could be assumed to be genotypic in nature. This further strengthens the trends in agronomic and physiological 167 parameters that were not affected by fertilizer treatment. Hence, it can be assumed that there is sufficient nutrient in the soil to support plant growth without applying fertilizer. The soil analysis conducted before planting showed that there was medium soil organic matter (SOM) level in Baucau (3.27%) and in Lospalos (3.67%). Therefore, even without applying N fertilizer, the soil SOM was sufficient to supply the nutrient needs of the maize plants. Table 3 – Ear diameter of five corn genotypes grown in Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste, 2009, Dry Season (DS). GENOTYPE EAR DIAMETER (cm) Lospalos Baucau Mean Local 4.24 a 3.78 c 4.01 C Sele 4.32 a 3.87 bc 4.10 BC Suwan 5 4.33 a 3.84 c 4.09 BC IPB var 4 4.28 a 4.02 b 4.15 BC USM var 10 4.31 a 4.22 a 4.27 A Mean 4.30A 3.95B Means followed by a common letter, in a column (variety mean), and in a row (location mean) are not significantly different at 5% level of significance by LSD. Between locations, significantly larger ear diameter was obtained in Lospalos (4.30 cm) compared with Baucau (3.95 cm). Bigger ear diameter was obtained from USM Var 10 (4.27 cm), while the smallest was in local variety (4.01 cm) Table 4 – Number of kernels per ear in five corn genotypes grown in Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste, 2009, Dry Season (DS). GENOTYPE NUMBER OF KERNEL PER EAR Lospalos Baucau Mean Local 356.1 231.2 293.7 Sele 366.1 244.5 305.3 Suwan 5 378.2 239.6 308.9 IPB Var 4 339.9 248.5 294.2 USM Var 10 344.9 241.9 293.1 Mean 356.9a 241.1b Means followed by a common letter in a row (location mean) are not significantly different at 5% level of significance by LSD. The higher number of kernels per ear in Lospalos, compared with Baucau, could be attributed to the relatively higher rainfall in Lospalos, while there was none at all in Baucau. Although irrigation was applied in both locations, maize plants grown in Baucau had experienced mild stress at different growth stage, considering the amount of applied in every irrigation schedule (6 x during the whole growth period). Final kernel number is normally established at about 2-3 weeks after pollination. Any stress imposed during this period greatly affects kernel set. Hanway (1963) demonstrated that a limited partitioning of dry matter to reproductive tissues during the critical period (bracketing silking) results in low numbers of kernels set. Furthermore, ovules remain undeveloped resulting in many kernels being small and lighter in weight. 168 Table 5 – 1000 grain weight in five corn genotypes grown in Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste, 2009, Dry Season (DS). GENOTYPE 1000 GRAIN WEIGHT (g) Lospalos Baucau Mean Local 243.2 ab 241.8 ab 242.5 A Sele 232.9 bc 221.6 cd 227.2 B Suwan 5 241.8 ab 212.1 d 226.9 B IPB var 4 246.3 a 215.7 d 231.0 B USM var 10 237.9 ab 220.2 cd 229.1 B Mean 240.4 A 222.3 B Means followed by a common letter in the location x genotype interaction in a column (variety mean) and in row (location mean) are not significantly different at 5% level of significance by LSD. Among the genotypes, the local variety had the heaviest grains (242.5 g per 1000 grains) compared with the other genotypes. The higher 1000-grain weight obtained in Lospalos could be due to favourable climatic conditions (precipitation) during the grain filling stage. This supports the findings of Haloi and coworkers (1986), wherein water stress was claimed to cause failure of kernel development, reducing the number, size and weight of kernels. Table 6 – Grain yield of five corn genotypes grown in Lospalos and Baucau, Timor-Leste, 2009, Dry Season (DS). GRAIN YIELD (t per ha) GENOTYPE Lospalos Baucau Mean Local 4.63 2.99 3.81 Sele 4.58 2.89 3.74 Suwan 5 4.95 2.73 3.84 IPB var 4 4.48 2.86 3.67 USM var 10 4.40 2.85 3.63 Mean 4.61a 2.86b Means followed by a common letter in a row (location mean) are not significantly different at 5% level of significance by LSD. Grain yield was not affected by genotypes, although the highest yielding genotype (Suwan 5) under Lospalos condition had higher yield than the other genotypes by 0.32-0.55 t per ha. Under the low yielding environment of Baucau, the test corn genotypes did not differ, with a yield range of 0.10-0.26 t per ha, but relatively higher yield was obtained in local variety. The higher grain yields in Lospalos could be attributed to better agronomic responses such as: day of silking, taller plants, more leaves per plant, more dry matter production (but insignificantly different HI), high growth rate and better development of yield contributing components (number of kernel per ear, grain weight). The better performance of the maize genotypes in Lospalos than Baucau could be attributed to better growing condition in the region, particularly, since plants were not exposed to severe water deficiency during the growing period. Fertilizer treatment effect was not observed in both sites, and it seems that the major elements needed for maize growth are not limiting. 169 General Discussion The two locations where the experiment was conducted are characterized by adequate endogenous nutrient supply (OM, N, P and K). Solar radiation is adequate and temperatures are within the optimum corn growing range. However, rainfall is limiting, Lospalos have a rainfall of 605.7 mm, wherein 91% of the precipitation occurred in May (early vegetative stage of maize plant) and remaining 9% (56 mm) occurred in June to September or the remaining 40% of the growing period. A more severe case was experienced in Baucau, wherein no rainfall occurred from planting to harvest. The above situation prompted the researcher to irrigate the test plants (not usually done by the farmers) before planting, 15 DAP, 30 DAP, 45 DAP, 60 and 75 DAP to at least maintain growth of the maize plants but not irrigated (5.1 mm per irrigation schedule) at the optimum level. The 551 mm rainfall during the early growth stage of maize plants in Lospalos was reflected on the generally better performance of maize genotypes in the area compared with Baucau. This was reflected on the better agronomic (day of silking, plant height, number of leaves, straw dry matter and total dry matter), physiological ( leaf area index and crop growth rate), and yield components (ear length, ear diameter, number of kernels per ear and 1000-grain weight) in Lospalos. These were reflected on the higher mean grain yields obtained in Lospalos (4.61 t per ha) than in Baucau (2.86 t per ha). The effect of N fertilizer treatments were not significant in all parameters measured, except the nutrient use efficiency. Although some interaction effects of location x genotype, and location x genotype x fertilizer treatment were observed. Most of the significant variations were attributed mainly to the genotype. Thus, the application of fertilizer did not improve the yield or yield-determining parameters in general. This was observed consistently, even when fertilizer N was applied in the form of 100% OF, 100% IF or their 50:50 combination. For the nutrient use efficiency parameters, the trends of N uptake is opposite of the usual trend, i.e., N uptake increased with increasing amount of N fertilizer applications, with the exception to the 100% OF application at 30 kg N per ha a generally decreasing trend in N uptake with increasing N fertilizer (0-60 kg N per ha) was obtained regardless of fertilizer source (100% OF, 100% IF or 50% OF + 50% IF) in Lospalos while remained constant in Baucau. With the available information, the major limiting factor for both sites is water (rainfall) which is severe in Baucau. Insufficient water could be the reason why maize plants did not respond to added N fertilizer in both sites. Genotypic differences were observed in some parameters in both locations, particularly on some yield components such as ear length, ear diameter and 1000-grain weight, but were not on grain yield. In spite of these genotypic differences, Suwan 5 appeared have higher yield than the other genotypes in Lospalos, while the local variety is the best in Baucau. Due to this limitation, N recovery efficiency decreased with increasing fertilizer N level. Nitrogen recovery efficiency is generally higher in Lospalos than in Baucau. The internal efficiency of N appears to be improved by use of 100% OF, and this needs further evaluation. The present study showed that, the local variety and Suwan 5 should be further evaluated at 0-30 kg N per ha N fertilizer, specifically to evaluate their yield performance under better growing condition (availability of irrigation water) and during wet season (November-February) in Timor-Leste. Bibliography Gomez, K. A. And A. A. Gomez 1984, Statistical procedure for agriculture research, (2nd ed), IRRI, Losbanos, Laguna, Philippines. Haloi B. and B. Baldev 1986, ‘Effect of irrigation on growth attributes in chickpea when grown under different dates of sowing and population pressure’ Indian J. Plant Physiol, 29: 14-27. Hanway J.J., 1963, ‘Growth stages of corn’ (Zea mays L.), Agron. J., 55:487-492. 170 25 Popular Socialist Democracy of the RDTL 1 1975-1978 Antero Benedito da Silva Introduction It is difficult now to imagine that the writings and ideas of Karl Marx, V. Lenin, Mao Tse-tung, Paulo Freire and Amilcar Cabral could have traveled so far to be experimented with by serious young politicians and intellectuals in the tiny and remote half island and former Portuguese colony of Timor-Leste in 19741978. At the peak of Indonesian invasion, these young politicians, intellectuals and their leading political movement, FRETILIN (The National Liberation Front of Timor-Leste) proclaimed the Republica Democratica de Timor-Leste (RDTL) unilaterally on 28 November 1975, and for the following three years a revolutionary government was in operation in the still liberated resistance bases. They were determined to defend this extraordinary experiment with high sensitivity to the local context until last bullets hit their bodies. Their deaths further inspired thousands Timorese to resist the occupation of their homeland in order to regain the freedom and dignity of the whole Timorese people. One can find brief discussion of the RDTL I in the writings of Gusmao (1999), Cabral (2002), CAVR (2002) and Mattoso (2007). Jose Mattoso (2007, 63) particularly characterized the first RDTL as a ‘people’s dictatorship’ state. However, we, and even Timorese politicians, academics and young generation, have not made use of what I would call a popular Socialist State Experiment as an academic and state building reference. The Chega Report (2002) of the Truth, Reconciliation Reception Commission known (CAVR) had also made the mistake of framing the analysis of resistance structures within FRETILIN alone. The CAVR had therefore fundamentally neglected the existence of the Republic Democratic of Timor-Leste as an alternative state experiment. This study aims to correct such narrow analysis by differentiating between the structure of FRETILIN as a political party or a national liberation movement, and the RDTL 1 state structure. This study is limited to discussing the nature of the RDTL I state from 1975-1978, its structure down to the grass root level, to understand how popular socialism was experimented with and how people participated in state affairs. This article might be a new beginning to break this silence over such extraordinary political experiment of the first generation of the RDTL and Timorese intellectuals and politicians. This study has come about through a systematic investigation drawing on interviews, and other primary and secondary sources. As a young member of Organizacao Popular da Juventude Timor (OPJT) of RDTL until the destruction of the resistance bases, my direct experience and childhood memories are an integral part of this analysis. Theoretical foundation of RDTL 1 Beyond Russian and Chinese state models, the RDTL I developed its own state model and democracy, a popular socialist democratic state. This is similar to a model that the Chinese and Cubans are attempting to develop in the recent decades, an anti-thesis to the ‘top down’ market and state Socialism. On November 29, 1975 the Central Committee of FRETILIN adopted RDTL first Constitution. Article 6 of the Constitution states: The Republic Democratic of Timor-Leste is a sovereign nation unitary, anti-colonialism, antineocolonialism, and anti-imperialism born out of a strong popular resistance generated from the struggle against the Portuguese colonialism and the imperialism, under a just guidance of the sole and legitimate vanguard of the Maubere People, the Revolutionary Front of the Timor-Leste Independent-FRETILIN (RDTL 1976, 33 - author’s translation). In the former USSR, the communist Party of Russia was the vanguard of the proletariat and the proletariat 171 became a fundamental part of the state apparatus. The use of the Lenin’s concept of the ‘Vanguard Party’ appears to be employed in the Article of RDTL I Constitution. In the resistance bases, FRETILIN political education classes assumed that the fascist state, which referred to Salazar Regime and the Suharto regime of Indonesia, had to be opposed, destroyed and replaced with a new type of state, a proletarian state that was truly democratic. The RDTL I also used concepts such as anti-colonialism and anti-imperialism, which made clear reference to Lenin’s ideas. The anti-colonial and anti-imperialism ideas are also exposed in the text of the Unilateral Proclamation of Independence, the RDTL Constitution and are also seen in the RDTL national anthem: “Patria, Patria-Homeland, Homeland.” Some of the lyrics of the anthem say: Vanquish colonialism, Down imperialism! A country free, A people free! No, no, no to exploitation (Jill Jolliffe 1976, 47). However, a proletarian class was not a significant segment in Timor-Leste society in the 1970s, rather, Timorese society was substantially a subsistence agrarian society. Here comes the second assumption of the nature of the state: instead of a proletariat, the RDTL I was therefore going to be a popular agrarian based state. This was articulated along the lines of Maoism (Julio Fatima, Interview 08/04/ 2010; FRETILIN 1974, 28). Thisarticulation isfurther expressed in the RDTL I Constitution Article 6, which says: Since Timor-Leste is a peasants state, the basis of the economy of the Republic Democratic of TimorLeste is agriculture. The attention of the Government of the Republic Democratic of Timor-Leste is to ensure especially the policy of agrarian development, considering, however, the industry as a decisive factor of development (RDTL 1976, 33 - author’s translation). We have just discussed about the nature of the popular socialist state, which was modeled on the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and the Peoples Republic of China, all of which Adriano Sella named the ‘real socialist’ state (Sella 2002, 96). The Structure and Experiment of Democracy This section outlines the structure and system of democracy of RDTL I which was developed beyond the influence of democratic centralism towards a distinctive combination of democratic centralism and of a popular and participatory democracy. The Political Manifesto of FRETILIN outlined among other political objectives of the Maubere Revolution to goal of totally eradicating and transforming the old colonialist structure, and implementing a new one truly in the service of the people of Timor-Leste (FRETILIN 1974, 25). It is from this perspective that I analyze the structure of RDTL I. The State Structure and Governance On 29 November 1975, FRETILIN adopted the RDTL I Constitution, which has VI Chapters. Chapter III of the Constitution describes the three important organs of the state consist of: first, the Popular Assembly, as the Supreme organ of the state and is the legislative body of the state with its members consisted of the Central Committee of FRETILIN; The Ministers and the Vice Ministers of the Republic; The Regional administrators; The representatives of the Military Units and two representatives of the sub-regional committee. The Constitution (Article 38) states that the President of the Republic would preside over the Popular Assembly at least once a year. The second most important organ of the state is the Council of Ministers presided by a Prime Minister (Article 40) with an executive mandate and under the orientation of the Central Committee and the Executive Committee of FRETILIN. The third important organ is the President of the Republic, who serves as the Head of the State and the symbol of the National Unity. 172 Among other mandates, the President of the Republic is to appoint the Prime Minister and the President of the Supreme Tribunal of Justice (RDTL 1976, 37-40). In the days following the adoption of the RDTL I Constitution on 29 November 1975, and in accordance with the Constitution, FRETILIN formed the RDTL cabinet of eleven Ministers and seven Vice Ministers (Jolliffe 1978, 219). The complete list of the Cabinet as follows: Franscisco Xavier do Amaral as President of the Republic; Nicolau dos Reis Lobato (Prime Minister); Mari Alkatiri (Minister of State for Political Affairs); Abilio de Araujo (Minister for Economic and Social Affairs); Jose Goncalves/HelioPina (State Secretaries for Economic Coordination and Statistics); Rogerio Lobato/Guido Soares and Hermenigildo Alves (Defense Ministers); Jose Ramos Horta/Guilhermina dos Santos de Araujo (Minister of Foreign Affairs and External Information); Hamis Basarewan (Minister of Education and Culture); Juvenal Inacio (Ministry of Finance); Vicenti Sahe Reis /Guido Valadares (Ministry of Labor and Welfare); Eduardo Carlos dos Anjos (Communication and Transport) (Jolliffe, 1978, p.219).For nearly three years behind the army lines, FRETILIN experimented an alternative Government aiming not just to liberate the country from the occupation, but also to liberate the people in the long term through the particular formation of the state. The Article 46 of the RDTL Constitution states the RDTL administrative would be organized into regions, sub-regions, villages, hamlets and even area. It follows then according to Gusmao (2002, p.42)the Soibada historic meeting May to June 1976, which I refer to as the Popular Assembly decided the hierarchy of ‘the political administration from aldeia, suco, zona, região, and sector’ (CAVR 2002, 4). The CAVR (2002, 5) CAVR (2002) Report identify following sectors. Table 1 – FRETILIN regional structure from May 1976 Sectors Ponta-Leste (Eastern End) Centro Leste (Central East) Centro Norte (Central North) Centro Sul (Central South) Fronteira Norte (Northern Frontier) Fronteira Sul (Southern Frontier) Districts Lautém and Viqueque Baucau Manatuto, Aileu, and Dili Manufahi and Ainaro Ermera, Liquiça and some parts of Bobonaro Covalima and some parts of Bobonaro Commissar Juvenal Inácio (Sera Key) Vicente dos Reis (Sahe) João Bosco Soares Hamis Bassarewan (Hata) Hélio Pina (Maucruma) César Lebre ( Mau Laka) Source: CAVR 2002 The political commissar was the supreme leader in each sector with responsibility for both political and military matters, and that all political commissars were members of the FRETILIN Central Committee (CAVR 2002, 5). While acknowledging this administrative structure from aldeia up to regions only, and the separate sectors, as CAVR (2002, 5-6) did, the administrative structure of RDTL I is best analyzed as a totality to understand the practice of democratic governance of RDTL I in the resistance bases. Initially, under the Sectors there were four other levels of the administrative structure: Region, Zone, suco (Village) and Aldeia (CAVR 2002, 5-6). Instead of eliminating and transforming the old Salazar fascist state structure, the new RDTL structure admitted the ‘suco’ level, which was inherited from fascist state. This new RDTL structure which had five levels, not including the Council of Ministers, was still too elongated (Interview Daniel Guterres 08/07/2009). We will now compare the Salazar fascist administrative structure with the Soibada formulated structure, which has appeared as the only structure in the CAVR report: The Republic of Portugal Provincia Ultramarino Conselho Posto Sucos RDTL Sector Region Zone Suco 173 Povoacao Aldeia As the comparison indicates clearly that the structure is exactly the same length, and both have suco in it. This new administrative structure then appears to be the copy carbon of the Portuguese colonial administration system, and therefore there was no change at all as the Political Manifesto of FRETILIN claimed. In fact, according to Daniel Guterres (Interview 08/07/2009) people continued to hold on to their Portuguese inherited suco and it was difficult to mobilize them. In August 1977, the Central Committee of FRETILIN meeting then formulated a new structure. Suco was eliminated to make the structure leaner, less bureaucratic and more popular. This had also resulted in some cases the breaking down of the Posto (subdistrict) of the colonial government. Ossu Sub-district under fascist administration, for example, had now broken down into two zones: Posteira Weste (Liaruka) and Posteira Leste (Boilo);and Venilale had two zones in Liz Weste and Liz Leste. The Commissariat (Commissariado) was to become both the centre for administration and politics. There was one Commissar and a few secretaries in each Commissariado. Based on previous studies provided by Estevao Cabral (2002, 243-246) and CAVR (2002, 5-6), and discussions with two former FRETILIN political cadres (mainly Daniel Guterres and Adelino de Jesus, a former political assistant in Centre South Sector), we can conclude that the RDTL I from 1977-1978 was as follows: RDTL I1 State Structure (1977-1978) POPULAR ASSEMBLY PR Minister of Defense (FALINTIL) Sector Command (COMSEC) Regional Command PM Council of Ministers Sector/Regions Zones (Comite da Zona) Aldeia (CDR)3 FRETILIN CCF (DOPI) ODM2 There was a change in the structural position after the detention of President Franscisco Xavier do Amaral in September 1977. Vicente dos Reis became National Commissar replacing Antonio Carvarinho who by then elected to become Prime Minister of the Republic. In the Central South Sector, Guilherme dos Santos known as ‘Lere’ took the post of Hamis Bassarewan ‘Hata’as Commissar and Hata remained Minister of Education and Culture (Adelino de Jesus, Interview 26/03/2011). According to CAVR the Political commissars worked with assistant commissars. Assistant commissars were each responsible for organizing specific tasks such as healthagriculture, education, the women’s organization and political propaganda. The secretariat of the administrators was called the Commissariat. Sectors were divided into smaller administrative units (CAVR 2002, 5). The centre of each sector was to be called Commissariat Politic of the Sector (CPS) and each of the these sector were headed by one Political Commissar, one sector commander known as (COMSEC) and or few secretaries, and they were all members of the Central Committee of FRETILIN (Mattoso 2005, 63; see also Cabral 2002, 243; Gusmao 2000, 42). The Political and Military Structure were created alongside at all levels (CAVR 2002, 243) with the exception of the Village Level (Aldeia), which had no military structure. Internal security was more in the hands of popular security and guerrilla units. 1 The President of the Republic (PR); The Prime Minister (PM); the Central Committee of FRETILIN (CCF); Department of Political and Ideological Orientation (DOPI). 2 Organizacao das Massas (ODM) consisting of Organzacao Popular da Mulher Timor (OPMT); Organizacao Popular da Juventude Timor (OPJT); Organizacao Popular de Trabalhador Timor; Organizacao Popular da Seguranca (OPS); But the latter is more seen as part of FALINTIL. 3 Conselho Democratico Revolucionario (CDR). 174 In 1981, Ma’hodu Ran Kadalak provided some details of the civilian and military leadership of each Sector as seen in figure: Table 2 – List of RDTL Leadership in Sector 1978 No 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 Sector South Border North Border Centre North Centre South Centre East Name CezarLebre ‘Mau Laca’ Paulo Rodrigues Feliciano Fatima To Barbosa Antonio Padua Joaquim do Nascimento ‘GariBuhana’ HelioPina ‘Mau Kruma’ FilomenoPaixao Antonio Carvalho ‘FeraLafaek’ Ali Alkatiri RuiFernandes AlaricoFernandes Joao Bosco Mantalvao “Lais” AfonsoRedentor Antonio Pinheiro Nicolau dos Reis Lobato DomingosRoibeiro “Bere Manu Koko” SebastiaoSarmento Guido Soares HamisBassarewan ‘Hatta” Guilhermi dos Santos ‘Lere’ Valente Soares ‘Mau Luli’ Eduardo dos Anjos ‘Kakuk’ NatalinoLeitao ‘Samoxo’ ManecasCruz ‘Secar’ Jose Maria ‘Mausiri’ ArturNascimento Maria Jose ‘Soimali’ Antonio Carvarinho ‘ Maulear’ Vicente Reis ‘BiekySahe’ Positions Commissar Secretary CCF CCF CCF CCF Commissar ComSec Minister Commissar Secretary Secretary Secretary President of RDTL Chief of Staff Shock Brigade Sock Brigade Minister of Education Commissar ComSec CCF CCF CCF OPJT CCF OPMT Prime Minister National Commissar Possibly for security reasons, this list however does not include the Eastern Tip Sector which leaders were Juvinal Inacio Serakey (Commissar), Jose Manuel da Costa ‘Ma’Huno (Secretary), Juvinal Fonseca ‘Solan’ (Secretary), Jose Alexandre Gusmao ‘Xanana’ and Fernando do Nascimento ‘Txai’ (Secretary). There was a group of the leaders that, according to Ma’Hodu, had been involved in the promotion of the skylight operation, and had surrendered to the Indonesian forces namely Alarico Fernandes, Joao Bosco, Mantalvao, Afonso Redentor, and Antonio Pinheiro (Kadalak 1981). Julmira Sirana who was present in Aileu, recalled that Afonso Redentor, Mantalvao and Pinheiro were all executed by Indonesian forces (Julmira Sirana, Interview 21/10/2009). Others suspected to have joined the Skylight operation and had also surrendered to the occupying forces were Filomeno Paixao, Ali Alktiri, Rui Fernandes, To Barbosa, Feliciano Fatima and Paulo Rodrigues (Kadalak 1981). However, Rui Fernandes, Filomeno Paixao, Ali Alkatiri and Feliciano Fatima were active again in political underground activities opposing the Indonesian forces, and with the exception of Rui Fernandes, the rest are still alive in Dili. On 10 February 1979, the External Delegation of FRETILIN/RDTL created a new Cabinet of RDTL, and the list of the new Cabinet is seen in the Table 175 Table 3 – No 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 Name Antonio Carvarinho Members hip CCF CCF AbilioAraujo Rogerio Tiago Lobato CCF CCF Mari Alkatiri Hamis Bassarewan Antonio Carvarinho Vicenti Reis Sahe Juvenal Inacio Eduardo dos Anjos Helio Pina CCF CFF CCF CCF CCF CCF 14 Ministerial position President of the Republic Prime Minister Ministry of State and Political Affairs Ministry of state for economic and Social Affairs Ministry for National Defence Ministry of Information and National Security Ministry for External Relation Ministry of Education and Culture Ministry of Justice Secretary of State for Labour, Health and Welfare Secretary of State for Finance Secretary of State for Transport and Communication Secretary of State for Agriculture, Forestry and Fishery Secretary of State for Public Works and Housing Source: CIET Sydney, 10 February 1979 (CPDM-CIDAD TL6606) The table shows that Jose Ramos Horta is no longer in the Ministerial post because he was at that time alleged to be a Central Intelligence of America (CIA) Agent (Ramos-Horta, 1996, p.157) but he remained a member of the Central Committee and assumed a new post as Roving Ambassador, and Director of Information and Public Relations. Alarico Fernandes was not included in the list of Ministerial post because he was already captured. Nicolau Lobato, the former Prime Minister who assumed the post President of the Republic in 1977 had been killed in 31 December 1978, and Former President Franscisco Xavier do Amaral had been captured by the occupying forces. In the External Delegation, Jose Luis Guterres had now assumed membership of the Central Committee of FRETILIN and as Coordinator for Diplomatic Font of FRETILIN and Representative of RDTL to Mozambique. Roque Rodrigues became FRETILIN Representative to the People’s Republic of Angola and Algeria. Guilhermina dos Santos remained a member of Central Committee of FRETILIN (CPDM-CIDAC TL.6606). By April 1979, nearly all the members of the CCF, which assumed the Ministerial posts inside the country had been either killed in battle or were executed after being captured.4 The only surviving members of the Central Committee and Sector Secretarias that were still active in the guerrilla zones were Xanana Gusmao, Ma’Huno, and Fernando Txai. All of them were Secretaries in the Matebian, the last resistance base. However, Txai was also later killed in a combat by the Indonesian forces in Laga in 1980 (Aurelio Freitas Ribeiro, Personal Com. 15/03/2011). The Practice of Popular Democracy • The Popular Assembly Neither Xanana’s auto-biography edited by Sara Niner (2008), nor the CAVR (2002) Chega Report mentioned the termPopular Assembly, but throughout the three years resistance from December 1975December 1978, FRETILIN leadership conducted at least four national meetings that would had been called popular Assembly: in Barique in April 1976, in Soibada May 1976 and Laline 1977 (Gusmao, 2000, p.41,42, 47) and, according Adelino de Jesus another meeting was held in October 1976, in place called Aidila-Oan, in Fatuberliu, Center South Sector (Adelino de Jesus, Interview 26/03/2011). 4 The surviving members of the Members of CCF were Jose Manuel da Costa ‘Ma’Huno’, Jose Alexandre Kay RalaXananaGusmao, and Fernando Teles do Nascimento ‘Txai’. But in 1980, Txai was also killed in a battle in Atelare, Laga in Baucau. 176 The most fundamental thesis developed out of the Soibada Popular Assembly May-June 1976 was their affirmation of the Maubere Revolution: Guerra popular, Guerra prolongada e Guerra sustentada pelas proprias forcas- a people’s war, self-reliance, long and protracted war (Mattoso 2007, 63). Years later Gusmao called this decision “the true pillar of the liberation of homeland” (Mattoso 2007, 63; Gusmao 2000, 42). Soon after the Soibada meeting the Prime Minister, Nicolau Lobato delivered a speech transmitted via Radio Maubere on July 28, 1976. Unity is the foundation of our revolution. We have to learn to indulge in criticism and self-criticism, in order to solve the problem that arises out of our contradictions. Open debate is another way to reconcile our differences. The Central Committee of FRETILIN is not authoritarian, and is open to any constructive criticism. The fighting goes on without vacillation. Victory is Certain (Denis Freney:CIET.MS.9535/3/9, Box 6). The last Popular Assembly in the resistance baseswas held in Laline, May-June 1977, and it wasin this meeting that the Party adopted Marxist-Leninism as its political ideology, though FRETILIN never publicly pronounced such ideology. The delegates of the meeting composed of the members of the Central Committee, the Ministers, and the commanders of FALINTIL. FRETILIN from now on was Partido Marxista-Leninista-FRETILIN (PML-FRETILIN) until 1984. • Council of Minister and Political Commissariat After each Popular Assembly session, the rest of the decisions were made within the Political Commissariat in each region. Aside from having a Commissariat, there were Secretaries, Ministers, Sector Commanders and Vice Commanders, political Assistants and representatives from each zone. The zone officers were composed of one Secretary and Vice Zone Secretaries, and two military Officers. They were assisted by Delegate Commissars assigned from the Sector Commissariats. In the Zone 1975 of Bautae, the military officer was known Quilo Bravo (literally mean Brave Unit), with main tasks as liaison officer between civilian and military and as political educators within the companies of the FALINTIL. Most of the decisions later decided in meetings in the Political Commissariat in each region. These decisions could be particularly sensitive decision, which should be implemented accordingly. This was true, for example, for security related decisions (Interview, Madalena da Silva Fernandes 05/02/2010). • Zone Committee There were mechanisms used for decision-making in Zone level. The Zone Committee consisted of two Bureaus: Political Bureau and Zone Commander, usually from one military company commander of the zone. The Political Bureau was composed of an Information Section, a Popular Health and Hygiene Section, an Economic Section (SECAE) and the Unit of Esclarecemento (clarification) (Interview Daniel Guterres08/07/2009). Madalena da Silva Fernandes (Interview 05/02/20100) provides the structure of Zone called ‘1975 Bautae’ of Uato-Lari, as follows: ZoneSecretary: Antonio Espirito Santo ‘Uato-Mau’ Vice Secretary I: Jeremias Guterres (Amzet) Vice Secretary II (Quilo Bravo): Bernardo Quintao ‘Romit’ Justice Section: Anzelmo no AdelinoMatahoi Education Section: Braz Rangel/DelfinQuintao Health Section: Unidentified. Section for Control of Economic Affairs (SECAE): Luis Amaral ‘Siul’/Tomas da Silva Security and Communication Section: Jose Barros Secretariat Section: Gastao Sousa ‘Badulau’/Madalena F. da Silva/Miguel Amaral Mass Organizations: OPMT – OPJT OPMT and OPJT were umbrella organizations of FRETILIN cadres and members of the local population behind the lines, ODM (Organizações Democrática de Massa) (Cabral, 2002, p.244).Unlike the Village Committee, which was elected, the Commissariado meetings appointed people to be in the posts based on 177 the political performance and loyalty to the party and state and the ideas of independence. The participants of the regular meetings of Zone Committee went beyond the political Bureau to include political activists, delegates of Commissariats known as DK (Delegadu Komissariadu), and heads of villages (Aldeias) within each zone. With the exception of military matters, the decision-making practices in the bases de apoio were more or less democratic. Most decisions were decided collectively in the zone committee meetings (Madalena da Silva Fernandes, Interview 5/2/2010; Daniel Guterres). • The Democratic Revolutionary Council (CDR): The Village Committee The Aldeia was the lowest structure in the administration in the RDTL I administration. The Conselho Democratico Revolutionario (CDR) members consisted of Responsible Principal (RP) which was the head of the Village, Secretary of Village, SECAE (Economic Section), Security Section, Justice Section, and two representatives of popular organizations each representing OPMT and OPJT. They were directly elected from popular meeting conducted specifically for this purpose. The election committee came from a combination of some members of the Zone Committee and the Delegate Commissariat and who would organize an election. People were asked to nominate candidates from area that were part of the Aldeia, and they would be elected by acclamation, and the majority would lead the Aldeia or become the prime responsible (Xefe Aldeia), and the Vice would be the head of Economic Section (SECAE), and so forth. Leoneto do Rego, a Catholic priest who had been in the resistance bases until the end of 1978, gave an interview later in Portugal stating that there was a political school training political leaders, and“people held meetings with and sometimes without political assistance to program the way of life and solve all the problems of the camps, from latrines to housing the pigs and other animals…That is how things worked. They were conscious of what they were fighting for-independence” (Taylor 1999, 82; Padre Leoneto do Rego, Interview 1980). The Chief of the Aldeia held esclarecemento (clarifications) to present proposals of the Village Committee or the Zone Committee to the people and this normally encouraged counter-proposals, which then generated debates. There were particular decisions that were made by the Political Commissariat usually it was related to the security situation; for example, moving the resistance bases to other places. This kind of decision was supposed to be implemented accordingly (Madalena da Silva Fernandes, Interview 05/02/20100). At the village level, the head of village would also discuss the decisions (other than highly sensitive security matters) all over again and a final decision would be taken in the popular meetings, in which people participated and spoke out with freedom. When they made mistakes, they were expected to make self-criticism, and when they were criticized or proved to have committed a mistake, they needed to apologize to the assembly immediately. This aimed to conscietiacise people about the decision, part of building a mass participation political culture. These were sometimes decisions that had already been made in the Zone Committee, but were again put in the agenda and subject to popular discussion. This process made people aware, and better able to implement the final decisions. The chief of the village was seen as the most active one in daily governance. Since he/she was elected, she/he had the legitimacy to mobilize people in the village level including her/his family members to work and to go to school, to work in the collective farms and get involved in any other activities under the village, to set an example for others. Family connections were also a principal means for mobilization. There was no unemployment. Everyone was active in doing something (Interview Madalena da Silva Fernandes 5/2/2010; Interview Daniel Guterres, Interview 08/07/2009; Domingos Sibikinu 20/03/2011). End Notes The Casa dos Timores had envisioned a destruction of the old colonial structure through a revolution. In the bases de apoio, FRETILIN indeed formed a new state structure of the Republic Democratic of Timor-Leste, under the intense pressure of the invading forces of Indonesian regime from 1976-1978. The popular Socialist model refers to a model of socialism promoted from the community 178 level with the participation of the people with some degree of centralism. Most decisions were made collectively at all levels, with exception to issues related to security that was generally made in the leadership level. The RDTL 1 Constitution used the term Assembleia Popular (Popular Assembly) to describe the Legislative organ of the RDTL. The Membership of the Popular Assembly was composed all the members of the Executive Body and the RDTL Administration to the sub-district level, and some representatives of the military. The Popular Assembly was not supposed to have weekly hearings as the National Parliament does nowadays. There were at least four National Meetings between 1976 and 1978. These meetings were crucial to developing strategies for resistance in the bases de apoio and beyond. The Commissariado Politica in each Sector made lower level decisions, and were the Executive Body of the RDTL Government. This is interesting because the key decisions were made nationally but were implemented locally through Commissariats. Below the Commissariat there were Zone Committees. The Zone Committee was appointed through the Commissariat meeting and the Democratic Revolutionary Committee (known as CDR – Conselho Democratico Revolucionario) at the village level was a popularly elected body, with one woman representing the women organization and one representative of the youth. It played a crucial role in promoting food production, education, conflict resolution/justice, health and providing logistical support for the Armed Forces. It was also responsible also for popular security in the villages. The existence of CDR is just another proof of active participation of the people, which often does not exist in a representative democracy. Bibliography Interviews de Jesus, Adelino, 26 March 2011, Dili, Timor-Leste. da Silva Fernandes, Madalena, 5 February 2010. do Rego, Padre Leonito, 1980, Lisbon, by Costa Alves and Moreira Reis, published in Funu 1980, Lisbon Portugal. Fatima Rihi, Julio, 8 April 2010, Dili, Timor-Leste. Fernandes, Alarico, 28 October 2008, Pangkalpinang, Indonesia. Guterres, Daniel, 08 July 2009. Sarmento, Jose, Interview 13 April 2010, Dili, Timor-Leste. Sibikini, Domingos, 20 March 2011. Julio Fatima Rihi, 8 April 2010, Dili, Timor-Leste. Archival collections Freney, Denis 1975, Manuscript Collection MS 9535; Copy Master Series 3, Folders 9-16, Box 6a., Press Release of Australian Unions of Students, 23 February, National Library of Australia, Canberra, Australia. --- 1976, CIET February 6, ‘Press Release: Democratic Republic of East Timor announces four airtrips for UN envoy visit’; NMS9535, Box no.6, MS9535/3/11; CIET, Press Releases from January 1975September 1976 (1 of 2), Canberra, National Library of Australia. --- 1976, Manuscript Collection MS 9535; Copy Master Series 3, Folders 9-16, Box 7; MS9336/3/16 date: November 12, 1976, National Library of Australia, Canberra, Australia. --- 1977, Manuscript Collection MS 9535/3/18; Box 7: East Timor News Agency: an interview with Prime Minister Nicolao Lobato, July 4, National Library of Australia, Canberra, Australia. --- 1975, CIET, MS.9535/3/9: Press Release by Australia Delegation to East Timor; Sydney, March 21. --- 1976, CIET, Manuscript Collection MS 9535; Copy Master Series 3, Folders 9-16, Box 7; MS9535/3/16, dated November 15, National Library of Australia, Canberra, Australia. Fretilin 1974, Manual Politica, BibliotekaMaubere, Dili, Timor-Leste. CDPM-CIDAC archive, TL3135-, Lisboa, Lisbon. Portugal. Lenin, V. 1902, ‘What is to be Done’, Transcription by Tim Delaney, This printable edition produced by: Chris Russell for the Marxists Internet Archive Timor-Leste (04/10/1975, Editorial, Biblioteka Maubere, Dili, Timor-Leste. Timor-Leste (Muki 15/11/1975), Biblioteka Maubere, Dili, Timor-Leste. Timor-Leste 15/12/1977.p.2. 179 Timor-Leste 15/12/1977.p.2. Lobato, Nicolau (28/07/1976), Denis Freney Collection:CIET.MS.9535/3/9. Box 6).CIET Sydney, 10 February 1979 (CPDM-CIDAD TL6606). Books CAVR 2002, Part 5: Resistance: Structure and Strategy. Cabral, Estevao 2002, ‘FRETILIN and the Struggle for independence in East Timor 1974-2002’, Doctoral Thesis submitted to the Department of Politics and International Relations, Lancaster University. FRETILIN 1974, Manual e Programa Politicos, BibliotecaMaubere, Dili, Timor-Leste. Gusmao, Xanana 2000, To resist is to win!,(ed), Sarah Niner, (1st ed), Aurora Books- David Lovell Publishing, Australia. Hill, Helen 1999, Stirrings of Nationalism in East Timor: FRETILIN 1974-1978, (2nd ed), An Oxford Press Book, Sydney. Hitchens, Christopher 2001, The Trial of Henry Kissinger, Verso, London. Jolliffe, Jill 1978, East Timor: Colonialism and Nationalism, University of Queensland Press, Australia. Mattoso, Jose 2005, A DignidadeKonis Santana e a Resistencia Timorense, Circulo de Leitores, Lisboa. Ramos, Jose Ramos 1996, Funu: the Unfinished Saga of East Timor, (2nd ed),The Read Sea Press, Inc, Eritrea. RDTL 1976, Constitution in Timor-Leste: Uma Luta Heroica, Publish by FrenteExterna do Governo RDTL, (ed) AbilioAraujo, Lisbon, Portugal. Sella, Adriano 2002, Globalização neoliberal e exclusão social, São Paulo, Paulus, Brazil. Shaoqi, Liu May 14, 1945, ‘The Party’ in Selected Works of Liu Shaoqi, Volume, Foreign Languages Press, Liu Shaoqi (Online) Reference Archive, March 2004, http://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/liushaoqi/1945/on-party/index.htm, viewed 15 May 2012. Turner, Michele 1992, Telling East Timor: Personal testimonies 1942-1992, University of New South Wales Press, Ltd., Sydney N.S.W, Australia. Online sources: Soviet History Archive (n.y.), http://www.marxists.org/history/ussr/government/party-congress/9th/01.htm, viewed 15 May 2012. [Marxism-Thaxis] People's Democracy, http://www.mail-archive.com/[email protected]/msg07847.html, viewed 15 May 2012. Shaoqi, Lui 1966-1976, ‘Cultural Revolution’, http://chineseposters.net/themes/liushaoqi.php, viewed 15 May 2012. 180 26 Social & Emotional Learning Mariano Dos Santos Introduction While normally most young adults have the capacity to deal adequately with the transition from young adulthood to taking on adult responsibilities, are happy with their life, and are able to cope with the various problems that arise, some young adults do not have the necessary knowledge and/or the skills to deal with the many challenges and limitations they face, resulting in a significant emotional and social impact on their personal lives. These young people often end up experiencing everyday life as being hard and unrewarding. This reality is probably true for a majority of East Timorese young adults. Smith & Carlson (1997) point out that “a wide range of studies has linked life events, stress and adverse child and adolescents outcomes, including depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, antisocial behaviour, and health problems” (232). Social and emotional learning is one of the human dimensions that is most important to achieve as it helps people to become resilient, mentally healthy, and respectful of others and develop maturity in daily life as an individual as well as a member of the community. I have decided to prepare a special educational program for a particular group of young adults in the Baucau district to assist their personal development by directly addressing their social and emotional wellbeing needs. Young adults in the Baucau District face a number of risk factors. Smith & Carlson (1997) state that risk factors can include, “characteristics of individuals and families, social contexts, or the interactions between persons and their environments” (234). Young adults in Baucau often face disappointment and frustration because they are not able to get a job, their family does not have the means to support them financially, and therefore they do not have sufficient money to be able to study at university level. Anecdotal evidence suggests that these young people have low self-esteem & self acceptance. Many of these also have little hope for a better future for themselves and a number marry early in the hope that this will improve their outlook for the future. This rarely happens, leading to disturbed family life which, in turn, affects the future of any children involved. These social problems are complex and complicated by a number of historical, environmental, social, cultural and economic factors. It is sometimes very difficult for these same young people to know how best to deal with their emotional and social problems because they do not possess the knowledge and skills to help them accept their reality and develop stronger resilience, as well as social and emotional wellbeing (Gilligan 2000; Chaskin 2008). Hence, I chose to target this group to help build up their resilience and to develop the young people’s social and emotional learning. Smith & Carlson (1997) say that resilience is, “a key concept that can engage the optimism and energy of students in thinking about client change” (247). Through this program of social and emotional learning it is hoped that these young East Timorese people can take a more healthy and mature way of coping with the emotional and social difficulties they face, because without this knowledge and these strategies some young adults may think the only way they can deal with their problems is to become depressed and then harm themselves physically, or create violence in the community, or drink too much alcohol and then cause disruption in their homes and to their families. Description of the Education Setting I have chosen to situate this emotional and social learning program within a Youth Training Center (Y.T.C.) located in Baucau, East Timor. Baucau is a large regional centre located to the east of the capital Dili. The Y.T.C. has 52 students, of mixed gender, and 5 staff. The types of learning programs presently being offered at Y.T.C. are finance, marketing, office skills, English language and computer training. Classes are usually conducted from Monday to Friday from 8.am to 12.pm, and then continue from 2.pm to 181 5.pm. Each subject is allocated one hour per day. The objective of this training is for young people to develop a knowledge base and skills that will better equip them to gain employment in a government office, in a local business or in a non government organization. Currently there are no programs being run at Y.T.C. that target social and emotional learning. Target Audience and Needs Analysis The target of this program is young people whose are aged between 22-28 and have graduated from secondary school. They are living in Baucau but do not have enough money to continue their study at any University in Dili or Baucau as the cost is too expensive and their families are often farming in rural areas, eking out a subsistence living. They undertake training at Youth Training Centres for a short time (6 months) and expect to find a job quickly so they can get money to continue their study at university or to be able to live their lives in some comfort. However, when they finish these courses not many can get a job as there is little or no new employment to be found in Government or Non-Government organizations and there are very few small businesses that offer employment opportunities. Frustration often drives them to anti-social behaviour at home and in the community. Last year some Non-Government Organizations, for example Care International, World Vision, and Catholic Relief Services introduced programs that taught about peace building, character building and friendship in sporting activities to address this issue, but unfortunately the courses lasted only a short time and there has been no continuation nor follow up to assess the value of these courses. Most of the students attending Y.T.C. come from sub districts and villages in the rural areas surrounding Baucau. Generally their parents are poor farmers or do not have paid jobs and, therefore, have little or no income. Most young people come from large families of 8 to 10 siblings, or sometimes even larger. A number of the young people also live away from their parents, but with members of their extended family who try to provide them whatever support they can. These social realities also contribute to the risk factors that, for some, can lead individuals to be influenced by friends be involved with illicit drugs and violence. East Timorese culture and social structure generally supports young people in terms of social and emotional development. For example relationships within family which are very strong that the value of respect is most important in all aspects of life. However reality shows that a lot of young people have lost any hope for their own future. Many young people are disillusioned about the result of independence and have become frustrated because they are not able to get a job nor a salary. Money is not available for them to continue their education at university. The result is that many young people fall in to negative thinking and living and resort to such influences as alcohol, drugs, and violent behavior. In general, the social and emotional learning program I am proposing aims to help the young people attending Y.T.C. Baucau to strengthen their resilience and be able to reduce the many social and emotional problems they face. Gilligan (2000) said that “reducing the accumulation of problem areas seems to reduce the risk of later problems” (38). Therefore, in view of the emotional and social needs of the young adults, this program will aim to help these young adults: • • • • • • To accept the reality and limitation and present situation To be able control their emotions To not fall into bad influence (drugs & alcohol). To be able to avoid violence and damage to property To be a positive influence in the community To strengthen their personal identity The particular social and emotional values and skills this group of young adults will develop are: • • Respect; for themselves and others. Tolerance for different situations and accepting difference. 182 • • • Responsibility; accepting personal responsibility and making a positive contributions. Self acceptance; recognizing and accepting their strengths, talents and difficulties. Coping skills; dealing with stress, disappointment, anger and frustration. Of the 52 students at Y.T.C., 35 are male and 17 are female. Therefore, to facilitate a more effective learning process within this program I will need to divide the students into the two roughly equal groups of both male and female. Staffing this emotional and social learning program will require three additional staff to those already working at Y.T.C. One person will act in the role of coordinator/facilitator of the program. The coordinator will be responsible for facilitating the training and support of the two staff and monitoring the overall development of program. The other two people will teach the program modules and. each will be responsible one of the groups of young adults. Recommendations for possible programming provisions Based on the assessed risk factors and the desired program outcomes, this program will seek to assist these young adults to be able: • • • • • • To discuss why it is important to be more intentional about teaching social and emotional skills. To identify strategies for supporting their development social and emotional wellbeing. To understand the importance of providing opportunities for them to more deeply understand their own, as well as others’ emotions. To understand the importance of teaching problem solving and to be able to identify problem solving steps. To understand why they need to learn to control anger and handle disappointment and to be able to identify strategies to deal with their anger effectively. To identify strategies for stress management. Learning modules The emotional and social learning program contains four modules. Each module will be taught in a six week block, one hour each day for four days each week. See Table 1 below: Table 1 – Weeks MODULES Day/Time 1–6 Character Building Monday – Thursday 1 hour 7 – 12 Problem Solving Monday – Thursday 1 hour 13 – 19 Emotions and Anger Management Monday – Thursday 1 hour 20 – 26 Stress Management Monday – Thursday 1 hour • Module 1: Character Building Subtopics: 1. What is personality character building? 2. Importance of character building 3. Developing a positive character 4. Indentifying my personal character 5. Values for character building 6. Developing strategies to build good character (personal, relationship, career) • Module 2: Problem Solving 183 Subtopics: 1. Types of problems young people experience and their impact on them. 2. Importance of problem solving 3. Learning the steps of problem solving 4. Understanding peace and peacemaking 5. Anticipate problems and promoting peace • Module 3: Emotions and Anger Management Subtopics: 1. What are emotions? 2. Importance of learn emotions and anger management 3. Understanding anger 4. Identifying the causes of anger 5. Strategies for managing emotions, particularly anger • Module 4: Stress Management Subtopics: 1. What is Stress? 2. Importance of learning stress management 3. Identifying the causes of stress 4. Implication stress for daily life 5. Strategies for managing stress in daily life Learning Process Each module will involve young people in an integrated learning process that will involve: a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. Instruction/input: An important aspect of the learning process whereby young people will be given input on specific topics to develop and deepen their cognitive understanding of these important areas. Class discussion: Discussion provides the opportunity to clarify thinking, explore issues, raise questions, test out with peers their understandings and listen to differing positions and ideas. Opportunity for small group, personal sharing: This is an opportunity for young adults to share their experiences with each other about their life experiences of particular topics. The young people will be divided into small group (2, 3 or 5 people) to make it easier for them to share what they thinking and feeling. Young people keeping a learning journal: Through learning journal the students can reflect personally on what they have learned in each subtopic. The journal also challenges them to think more deeply about the topic they are learning. Invite guest speaker from local community: Members of the local community (parents, community leader, business people) will be invited, to share their experiences, thoughts and approaches with young people in regard to specific topics related to social and emotional wellbeing. Students conduct interviews: In some modules, the learning process of program participants will be enhanced when they conduct interviews with members of the local community (parents, community leader, business people) to gather information on the experiences, thinking, values or opinions of people in the broader community. Complete worksheet: Getting participants to complete worksheets is one way of determining how well they comprehend the content they are learning in a particular lesson, or helping to promote further research on particular topics. Situational dilemmas: These young people will be given dilemmas which are stories relating to real life situations relevant to the life of these East Timorese young people. The objective is for them to discuss, reflect and hopefully come to a resolution of how best to resolve the dilemma. 184 i. j. k. l. Use music and songs: Various modern songs and music that talk about character, problems, emotions and stress will be used to stimulate discussion and reflection. Role play: The young people will be given opportunities to act out particular roles within real-life type situations, especially those dealing with character, stress, emotions and developing problem-solving skills. The teachers will use the role play to encourage the participants to reflect on what they have learned through the role play. Drawing, painting and photos: The young people will use drawing, painting and photos as a means of identifying or expressing things like emotions (sad, happy, smile, laugh, tired), relating personal experiences and so on. Recognizing my character traits: Young people will have the opportunity to learn that every person has a number of character traits. They will have time to identify their own character traits, for example by thinking of themselves as a product, and their name as their own private brand. Monitoring and Evaluating the Program I propose that both summative and formative format assessment are used in this program to evaluate whether it attains its objectives and to monitor its effectiveness. The Irish National Council for Curriculum Assessment, (INCCA 2005) state that, The emphasis in summative assessment is on measuring a young person’s cumulative progress towards learning or curriculum objectives. The purpose of formative assessment is to enable teachers to make informed decisions with regard to selecting curriculum objectives, identifying appropriate teaching methodologies, designing learning activities, choosing suitable resources, differentiating learning and giving feedback to young people on how well they are doing (9). Summative and formative assessment are important ways of collecting data, interpreting, and providing information that can help teachers to make judgments, and determine whether the learning process is attaining its objectives. Through these different forms of assessment the teachers will know if, in the learning process, something needs to improve and inform decisions about the best kinds of strategies that will develop the knowledge, skills and attitudes of these East Timorese young adults. • Formative assessment The two forms of formative assessment that will be used in this program are teachers reviewing participants learning journal and conducting regular short written tests. The program participants will be asked to keep a learning journal throughout all the different modules to help them articulate what they understand and feel about what they are learning within each topic. The written tests will measure the cognitive understanding of the content the young people are learning in each subtopic. • Summative assessment The two forms of summative assessment that will be used are an end of program exam and a questionnaire that will be completed by all staff at Y.T.C. All the staff will be given questionnaire to survey their ideas about the effectiveness of the program, what improvements they think need to be made, and what they would recommend about the program continuing into the future. Conclusion This program will target the social and emotional wellbeing of young adults by providing an important addition to the vocational learning program currently being conducted at the Youth Training Centre, Baucau. The two programs working together will provide a more holistic education for this group of young adults with their particular developmental needs. This program will aim to give these young people sufficient coping skills to help them with to deal the social and emotional problems they face as they develop their personal identity, life-long relationships and commitments and find a meaningful career. This 185 program will also help the young people to be more confident in themselves, have good self-esteem, self acceptance and able to make appropriate decisions about their future. Additionally, it is hoped that the program will help young people in Youth Training Centre Baucau to be able to manage their emotions, and not fall into the bad influence of drugs and alcohol, to avoid violence and damage to property and to be a positive influence in the local community. As well as assisting in the holistic development of these young people, it is hoped that these same young people will also positively contribute to the peace and development of our young democratic nation. Bibliography Chaskin, R. J. 2008, ‘Resilience, community, and resilient communities: Conditioning contexts and collective Action’, Child Care in Practice, 14(1): 65-74. Gilligan, R. 2000, ‘Adversity, resilience and young people: the protective value of positive school and spare time experiences’, Children and Society, 14: 37-47. Ireland, Dublin 2005, ‘Assessment in the Primary Curriculum : Guidelines for schools,’ The Irish National Council for Curriculum Assessment, http://www.ncca.ie/uploaded files / publications / assess%20, viewed 15 December 2009. Knight, C. 2007, ‘A resilience framework: Perspective for educators’, Health Education, 107(6): 543-555. Nadge, A. 2005, ‘Building resilience, building futures’, Journal of Pastoral Care in Education, 23(1): 28-33 Santrock, W. 1999, Life-Span Development (7th ed), Texas, USA, McGraw-Hill. Smith, C. and B. E. Carlon1997, ‘Stress, coping, and resilience in children and youth’, The Social Service Review, 17(2): 231-256. 186 27 The role of participatory arts in social change in Timor Leste: discussing outcomes for project stakeholders Kim Dunphy In communities around the world, participatory arts, those artistic practices that engage community members in the process of creation, are increasingly used to stimulate positive social change. In this article I use this term ‘social change’ in a very broad sense, to encompass change that organizations or individuals seek to make through their work. In analyzing the impacts of that work, I use a four-dimensional model (Hawkes 2001), to examine both intended and unintended change within the dimensions of social equity, cultural vitality, economic viability and environmental sustainability. This movement towards participatory arts for change is also occurring in developing countries, through artforms including performing, visual, media and literary arts. Many positive outcomes are achieved through this work across a range of domains. These include maintenance of cultural heritage and identity (Latrell 2008), stimulation of creativity (Van Erven, 2000), health promotion (Mwansa and Bergman 2003), peace-building and trauma recovery (Swain 2009; Harris 2010), human rights promotion (Ahmed 2007), skill development, income generation and environmental awareness raising (INCD 2002; Throsby 2008). Participatory arts engagement also provides participants and audiences with valued experiences of enjoyment, self- expression and meaning-making (Şişmanyazici-Navaie and Etili-Serter 2008). This practice is also emerging in Timor-Leste, a small half-island nation that lies north of Australia and east of Indonesia. One of the world’s poorest countries (AusAID 2011), Timor-Leste is facing significant challenges in the establishment of an independent nation after hundreds of years of negligent colonization by Portugal and brutal oppression by Japan and Indonesia. The emergence of the practice of participatory arts in Timor-Leste parallels a long tradition of participatory cultural practices. Dance, music and oral narrative have long played a vital role in community life in Timor, especially in community celebrations and rituals (King 1963; Sloman 2011; Tatoli ba Kultura 2012). New arts initiatives in Timor are increasingly supported by Timorese individuals and community groups, as well as international organizations and governments. Projects are developed around priorities that stakeholders identify as significant. These include economic development (ETWA 2009b; Alola Foundation and Oxfam 2005), education and skill development (Bexley 2008a; PLAN International 2009: Arte Moris 2009), health promotion (Union Aid Abroad, 2009a; Bryant, 2007), political activism (Suai Media Space 2009) and peace-making (Ba Futuru 2006 and 2011; Bexley 2008b; James 2008 and 2010). This paper presents a brief overview of one aspect of the author’s research into the role of participatory arts in social change in Timor-Leste. A wider project that forms the author’s PhD, examines these issues more deeply as well as a number of other questions. These include project leaders’ theories of change about their work, how those theories relate to what actually occurs and impacts of the programs. This article introduces case studies of five arts programs and the responses to these programs from a range of stakeholders. It concludes with a summary of the findings about outcomes of the activities, as well as a brief comment on issues of concern arising from the research. Collecting information This article is based on data collected through fieldwork in various locations across Timor-Leste between 2009 and 2011. 75 semi-structured interviews, four focus groups and participant observation of a range of arts activities were undertaken by this author. Research participants included a wide range of stakeholders: project participants; artistic leaders; host organisation staff; community leaders; professionals; funding 187 organisation representatives, audience members and wider communities impacted by the projects. An interpreter assisted with interviews that involved Timorese respondents. Case studies Five initiatives will be discussed in this paper: two each involving theatre and visual arts and one involving community music. Two were based in the capital city Dili, and the other three in the regional towns of Ainaro, Baucau and Lospalos. • The Scared Cool physical theatre project, Dili This project took place in early 2010, hosted by Ba Futuru, a non-government organisation that promotes human rights, peace-building and sustainable development through its work with young people. The organisation, established in 2004, has a strong focus on the arts as a vehicle for positive change. Scared Cool was directed by young Australian actor, Kallista Kaval, who worked with a group of ten young Timorese men and women over three months to develop the theatre performance. The show’s themes included peace building and anti-violence. • Nafo Fila community theatre company, Ainaro Nafo Fila was established in 2005 to provide young people in Ainaro district opportunities for positive engagement through theatre. It currently has 18 members aged from 15 to mid-30s. The group is led by Ainaro local, Maria da Silva Barros, and operates out of her home, which also serves as living quarters for several company members. Some of these young people have no other family, while others come from districts far from Ainaro. While it is an ongoing struggle, Nafo Fila provides some members with their main income source. The company has a strong focus on community change through drama, and their plays address issues of local concern. • Arte Moris visual art school, Dili Arte Moris (Living Art) was established in 2002 by Swiss-German couple Gabi and Luka Gansser to ‘use art as a building block in the psychological and social reconstruction of a country devastated by violence, with special emphasis on helping its young citizens’ (Arte Moris, 2009). Timorese artist and former student Iliwatu Danubere became Director in 2009. The centre holds classes for resident artists, mostly young men from across Timor, and local children. It also has a large gallery open to the public. Students undertake community projects and commissions all around Timor and travel overseas to study and exhibit their work. Cultural exchange also occurs in reverse, with artists from around the world volunteering at Arte Moris. • Afalyca art school, Baucau Afalyca (Wild People) was established in 2007 by Baucau artists Marqy da Costa and Pepe do Ceo. These young men sought to promote peace and cooperation in their troubled neighbourhood by providing a positive outlet for the many young people who experienced unemployment and lack of opportunity. Marqy and Pepe were influenced by Arte Moris, and for some years the two organisations were close collaborators. Afalyca is now developing its own momentum, with two gallery-studios in Baucau. Workshops and classes are attended by young adults, mostly men, and also children and foreigners. Artists from Australia and elsewhere visit and assist with programs and tourists buy artworks and other artistic products. Afalyca artists also undertake community projects and commissions and hold exhibitions, in Timor and overseas. • Gillian Howell’s community music residency, Lospalos Australian musician Gillian Howell led this project over four months in 2010. She was supported by an Asialink residency and fellow Australian musicians Tony Hicks, Lina Andonovska, Doug Coghill and Rachel Cashmore. The project was hosted by Many Hands International, a non-government organisation that focusses on cultural assets-based community development (Many Hands 2011). Gillian and colleagues sought to offer participants creative learning experiences through music – opportunities that they perceived 188 as being rare in the districts of Timor. Activities included small and large scale music jams and performances; instrument, music-making and song-writing workshops. Having introduced the five case studies, the next section summarises outcomes of the initiatives, as extrapolated from the data. Outcomes of the initiatives Outcomes of the programs are framed using a four dimensional model, drawn from Hawkes’ conception of the four pillars of sustainability (2001). This approach propounds the view that any community initiative should be considered in terms of its contribution or cost to the four interrelated dimensions of cultural vitality, social equity, economic viability and environmental sustainability. The arts programs studied were overwhelmingly perceived as positive. The most significant benefits were reported by those directly involved; participants and artistic leaders. These outcomes can be considered primarily within the cultural and social dimensions, but there were also some perceived economic outcomes. The environmental dimension was not discussed by any of the respondents, so while projects would have had an environmental impact, especially those that involved foreigners flying in from overseas, this issue does not appear in the data. Other stakeholders, including relevant professionals, audience members and families, also perceived positive outcomes, as discussed below. Certainties: the definite pluses Program participants reported very favourable responses. The activities provided opportunities for pleasurable creative engagement, which participants reported as being valuable particularly because they were uncommon in their everyday life. The mother of one music-maker in Gillian Howell’s project commented on the pleasure that she and her son gained through his involvement: ‘Life is a struggle survival is difficult. Through this event we can get some happiness because children are learning and we can see smiles in their faces.’ In the cultural dimension; the activities provided valued opportunities for creative expression. An audience member at the Scared Cool performance shared his view that; ‘this show was very important, [....] for human beings to express their feelings’. Exploring and sharing of Timorese heritage was also identified as significant. Both visual art schools, Arte Moris and Afalyca, emphasised the development of an artistic style that reflects traditional culture, while also broadening into new art forms and themes. Australian musician Gillian Howell prioritised the use of traditional materials and instruments, even when she was engaging people in music that was new for them. Participants and observers expressed pleasure at the affirmation of Timorese culture through this focus. One young man appreciated a music event because he felt that it connected with Timorese practice of ceremonies, which would help Timorese people remember their own culture. He also felt that foreigners’ interest in traditional instruments would encourage the same from local people. As he described: ‘When foreigners come to our country and play our instruments, it is a sharing experience for the youth, so that they cannot forget their instruments.’ There were also significant learning experiences. These included artistic skill development and most importantly, creative and analytic thinking. Project participants obtained new insights into issues in their lives and those of the wider community, that they identified as ongoing challenges. As Scared Cool participant Marta commented, participants, including herself, had learned new and creative ways to work through previous difficulties; ‘we can [....] change our bad thinking [....] and experience from the past’. Marta felt that this was particularly important because almost all young Timorese have had significant experiences of conflict in their lives. In the social dimension; participants in the arts programs experienced significant opportunities for personal growth, development of confidence and self-esteem. These positive experiences occurring in the course of participation were reinforced in many instances by outcomes of the programs. Young artists from Afalyca, for example, had numerous opportunities that were extraordinary among their hometown peers. 189 These included national and international recognition through public showing of their work and awards. Some had opportunities to travel overseas to present their work and undertake training. There was a strong sense of positive connection with others through these activities. This was especially important for those who do not have direct support from families. In Timor, many young people must live long distances from home in order to study or work and there are high incidences of bereavement because of the country’s traumatic history. Maria, Nafo Fila’s leader, originally set up the group to cater for such young people, as she explained. I think drama …. is good for young people, especially those who don't have any parents. Otherwise they would sit by themselves and think about everything. If we have drama and performance, everyone can come and enjoy and then they will forget these problems. One of the group’s participants confirmed the function of the group as a replacement for his absent family: ‘When we are involved together in this group, we are now like family to each other’. In the economic dimension; participants and artistic leaders reported definite economic advantages, especially those involved in longer term programs. None of the activities required any financial contribution from participants, yet most provided indirect and some, direct, economic benefits. These included skill development and English language learning that participants believed would improve their future opportunities. Directs benefits included employment, sales and commissions of artwork. Impacts on leaders, visitors and tourists As well as their impact on participants, these projects provided benefits for others involved. Artistic leaders reported deeply felt personal and professional responses. Young theatre worker, Kallista Kaval, for example, described how much she gained from the Scared Cool project. Leading this project was…….. by far the most extraordinary experience of my life. The performance night was a highlight - to see the audience’s response….. It really changed the way I view theatre as a form…… Visitors and tourists also reported deeply moving experiences. One development worker who was new to the country, described how her empathy and understanding of the Timorese narrative increased significantly after a visit to Arte Moris’ gallery. One particular painting was, ‘the most powerful political artwork I have ever seen. It helped me feel what Timorese have been through…..’ A tourist who attended a Nafo Fila performance commented on his great enjoyment of the event and the positive feeling about Timor that it engendered: ‘The show, the dinner and the journey home on truck under the full moon; the kids so happy and excited, was the best part of my trip here’. Community change For the wider Timorese community too, there were several benefits identified. One was the pleasure in being an audience member for arts productions. One young man from a village in which Nafo Fila performed, responded that he and his peers looked forward to the show all year. They loved the music, the performance and the cast of lively characters sharing new ideas. In that instance, the show explored the issue of forced marriage that audience members confirmed was a continuing concern in their area. Community leaders and professionals reported that these events were of benefit to communities in their capacity for awareness raising. A child protection worker from Ainaro, for example, commented that she received more referrals about family violence after Nafo Fila’s performance on this topic. 190 Uncertainties and risks While interview responses were overwhelmingly positive, this researcher did identify some areas of concern. One of these relates to the sustainability of programs, especially those largely supported by foreigners. International organisations who support these arts initiatives may not be able to offer ongoing assistance. This leaves groups like Nafo Fila in a precarious position, in part due to their isolated regional location. They often experience a struggle to survive, and they see few options for support of their work. In a related concern, there is potential for leadership by foreigners to perpetuate the very issue the initiatives are often intended to address, that is, the capacity of Timorese people to manage their activities independently of foreigners. It is important that leadership capacity is transferred to local stakeholders in processes that are effective and empowering. In all of the case studies discussed, the process of capacity development was identified as a goal. However, this was continually challenging to implement, as most project leaders did not have strong training in the areas in which they were working. With the exception of one foreigner who had had a full education and much experience in her professional area, most of the others were learning on the job themselves, so they were not strongly equipped to devolve skills as they led. However this difficulty can potentially be overcome by more of the same; the more experience people gain, the greater their capacity to share those skills with others. One other concern arising for this researcher was the potential for ineffective practice or even harm, despite best intentions. Many of the initiatives addressed very serious topics, including child abuse, family violence, human rights and war trauma. Most often those issues were tackled by arts leaders who had no training in either behaviour change or therapeutic arts practice. Therefore, they were at risk of being ineffective by not providing appropriate information or not using strategies effective for eliciting change. Even worse, there was potential for harm if issues were raised inappropriately, particularly if there is no safety net of support to assist people to deal with them. This risk could be ameliorated with a stronger emphasis on accompanying social support from appropriate agencies. This will be challenging to achieve in Timor-Leste when social services are as yet so underdeveloped, but it should be a goal for organisations seeking to make change. One final concern was the potential for unexpected harm. This might include direct damage from poor role-modelling, as well as indirect harm from unintended negative consequences. One example of the former occurred at a public event where the artists were all smoking publicly as they prepared for and presented their work in a rural village. Given the strong influence of glamorous peers and media in youth take-up of smoking (Tickle et al, 2006), there is a possibility that this event resulted in as much harm as good, despite the ostensible positive messages being delivered through the performance and the strongly positive motivations of the group. In a different kind of unintended consequence, if a truly wholistic examination of costs and benefits was undertaken, an activity that involved foreigners flying to Timor would have to generate a very significant positive change if the environmental cost of carbon emissions generated by flights were to be negated. Both of these factors indicate the ongoing need for evaluations that examine intended and unintended outcomes of arts, and indeed any other initiatives, in vulnerable communities and a wholistic look at all impacts of the process. Conclusion This article has presented a brief overview of research examining the role of arts in social change in Timor Leste. Five case studies of arts programs indicate strong positive outcomes for participants and other stakeholders. These outcomes are particularly evident in the cultural and social dimensions. Respondents commented on the pleasure they gained from their involvement, especially when it strengthened their connection with Timorese traditional culture. The activities stimulated new learning and thinking, both creative and analytic. Arts participants experienced highly positive connection with others through their involvement. This seemed particularly important because so many of the participants have experienced extended traumatic social disruption. Some participants also perceived benefits in the economic dimension, 191 through skill development, improvement of employability, opportunities for paid work and income generation from art sales. Other stakeholders including artistic group leaders, non-participating community members and visitors, also experienced a range of positive outcomes. These included enjoyment of attendance at an arts event and a deeper understanding of their own and other’s life experiences as a result of the issues presented. Artistic leaders also experienced significant personal and professional growth. Most challenging to determine was wider level community change. While the outcomes seemed overwhelmingly positive, there were some potential risks and dangers. There were significant challenges with sustainability, and the corresponding potential risk to participants from engaging in highly meaningful activities for which there is no continuity. There is the possibility of no change, or change in the wrong direction, without careful planning and collaboration between artistic leaders and professionals with expertise in assisting positive social change. There were also unconsidered negative impacts such as the carbon emissions generated through overseas travel of visiting collaborators. Bibliography Ahmed, S. 2007, ‘‘Fitting the bill’ for ‘helping them. A response to ‘Integrated popular theatre approach in Africa’ and ‘Commissioned theatre projects on human rights in Pakistan’, Research in Drama Education, 12(2): 207-222. Alola Foundation and Oxfam-GB 2005, Handcrafts Industry Development Project TL: Business Plan, Alola and Oxfam, Dili. Arte Moris 2009, ‘Arte Moris: Free and Non-Profit Art School’, www.artemoris.tp, viewed 30 August 2009. --- 2011, Arte Moris website, www.artemoris.org/about.htm , viewed 30 August 2011. Arts for Global Development 2006, Creative Change Worldwide, www.art4development.net , viewed 23 June 2010. AusAID 2012, East Timor, http://www.ausaid.gov.au/country/country.cfm?CountryId=911, viewed 4 March 2012. Ba Futuru 2011, www.bafuturu.org, viewed 20 March 2011. --- 2006, Transformative Arts and Human Rights Education Guide, http://bafuturu.homestead.com/Programs.html, viewed 3 November 2010. Bexley, Angie 2008a, ‘Let’s Work Together’: The Power of Print in Timor-Leste’, The Asia Foundation, http://asiafoundation.org/in-asia/2008/11/19/lets-work-together-the-power-ofprint-in-timor-leste/#more-595, 19 September, viewed 30 August 2009. --- 2008b, ‘Drawing on Tolerance’, The Canberra Times, 11 November, http://mailman.anu.edu.au/pipermail/easttimorstudies/2008-November/000522.html, viewed 30 August 2009. Bryant, Andrew 2007, Maternal and Newborn Health Promotion through Community Drama in Timor-Leste, American Public Health Association,Washington D.C., October. ETWA 2009b, Haru inu Lafu - Weaving Life, DVD, ETWA, Melbourne. Gray, Amber 2008, ‘Dancing in our Blood: Dance/Movement Therapy with Street Children and Victims of Organized Violence in Haiti’ in Jackson, N. and T. Shapiro-Phim (eds) Dance, Human Rights and Social Justice: Dignity in Motion, Maryland, The Scarecrow Press, pp. 222-236. Harris, David 2010, ‘When Child Soldiers Reconcile: Accountability, Restorative Justice, and the Renewal of Empathy’, Journal of Human Rights Practice, 2(3): 334–354 Hawkes, Jon 2001, Fourth Pillar of Sustainability, Melbourne: Cultural Development Network. INCD 2002, Culture, Development and Cultural Diversity: Issues for the INCD, INCD. James, Sierra 2008, ‘Human Rights Education and Transformation Through the Arts’, Human Rights, 11, 93103, viewed 1 November 2010. --- 2010, Capacity Development, Culture Change, and the Potential for Peace, February 3, http://www.peacexpeace.org/2010/02/capacity-development-culture-change-and-the-potential-for-peace viewed 1 November 2010. King, Margaret 1963, Eden to Paradise, London, Hodder and Stoughton. Latrell, Craig 2008, ‘Exotic Dancing: Performing Tribal and Regional Identities in East Malaysia’s Cultural Villages,’ TDR: The Drama Review, 52(4): 41-63. Many Hands International 2011, About Us, http://manyhands.org.au, viewed 12 July 2011. Mwansa, Dickson and Bergman, Pia 2003, Drama in HIV/AIDS Prevention: Some Strengths and Weaknesses: 192 A Study in Botswana, Tanzania, South Africa, Kenya, Ethiopia, and Uganda, Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency, Stockholm. PLAN International 2009, Work and Life Skills for Youth in East Timor, http://www.plan.org.au/ourwork/asia/easttimor/youth , viewed 30 August 2009. Şişmanyazici-Navaie, Nils. and Etili-Serter, Emil 2008, ‘Making the 'arts' and 'net' work to help achieve MDGS: an art4development.net story’ in UNESCO Observatory Refereed e- Journal of Multi-Disciplinary Research in the Arts, 1(2): 149-160. Sloman, Annie 2011, Using participatory theatre in international community development, Community Development Journal, January, www.10.1093/cdj/bsq059 , viewed 21 January 2011. Suai Media Space 2009, ‘Circle of Stones’, www.suaimediaspace.org/category/video-archive , viewed 30 August 2009. Swain, Dana 2009, ‘Dancing for Peace in Angola: using movement based expressive arts therapy as a tool for social action’ in Dunphy, Kim, Jane Guthrie and Elizabeth Loughlin, (eds) Dance Therapy Collections 3, DTAA, Melbourne. Tatoli ba Kultura 2012 www.tatolibakultura.org. viewed 4 March 2012. Throsby, David 2008, ‘Culture in sustainable development: insights for the future implementation of Art’, 13 in UNESCO 2008, Convention on the Protection and Promotion of the Diversity of Cultural Expressions, January. Tickle, Jennifer. J., Jay G. Hull, James D. Sargent, Madeline A. Dalton, and Todd F. Heatherton 2006, ‘A Structural Equation Model of Social Influences and Exposure to Media Smoking on Adolescent Smoking’, Basic and Applied Social Psychology, 28(2): 117-129. Union Aid Abroad-AHPEDA 2009, ‘Taking workers’ issues to the community: Expressional Arts Project’, Timor-Leste, www.apheda.org.au/projects/easttimor/news/1233529206_1475.html, viewed 30 August 2009. Van Erven, Eugene 2000, Community Theatre: Global Perspectives, Taylor and Francis, London. 193 28 A preliminary investigation into the history of the old fort at Maubara Steven Farram There are a number of forts on Timor built by the European contestants for colonial control of the island; the Dutch, who prevailed in the western half, and the Portuguese, who came to control the eastern half of the island. The Portuguese had been active in Timor since the sixteenth century and retained a presence there until 1975. Such a long presence makes it easy to overlook the fact that the present borders on Timor were only formalised in 1916, and until at least the mid-nineteenth century, the Dutch and Portuguese were actively campaigning for territorial control. One result of this rivalry is that one of the best-known forts in the former Portuguese- controlled areas, the Maubara fort, initially completed in 1760, was originally built by the Dutch. To date, the fort has received little attention from researchers. This paper is a preliminary attempt to alter that situation and examines the history of the Dutch claim to Maubara; the circumstances surrounding the erection of the fort; and the reasons for its abandonment by the Dutch to the Portuguese in 1861. Background It is likely that the Portuguese first ventured to Timor in the early sixteenth century, lured by the sandalwood trade. They did not establish themselves in the region, however, until 1561, when they settled on the island Solor, north of Timor. In 1613, the Dutch, organised in the VOC (Dutch East India Company), came to Solor and drove away the Portuguese, who moved to Larantuka on Flores. In 1653, the Dutch established a base at Kupang, in western Timor. In the meantime, the Eurasians and local Christians of Larantuka, known as Topasses, were also active in the sandalwood trade. The Topasses established a base at Lifau, in the present Timor-Leste enclave of Ambeno-Oecusse. They often collaborated with the Portuguese, but were fiercely independent and formed a third force seeking control of the region (Farram 1999, 40-1). In 1668, the Dutch made alliances with Manatuto and other principalities (Alderwerelt 1904, 195), but they could offer them little assistance and the Portuguese later pressured those principalities to renounce the alliances (Heyman 1895, 8). Dutch fortunes revived after the defeat of a major Topass force during the battle of Penfui in 1749. In 1753, an expedition left for Manatuto to bring it and other places under Dutch authority once again (Alderwerelt 1904, 198, 201). What happened to that expedition is yet to be confirmed by further research, but control of Manatuto continued to be contested for many years. In 1756, VOC Commissioner Paravicini arrived in Kupang and convinced fifteen Timorese rulers to make alliances. Paravicini may have misled the Timorese, as many of them already had alliances with the Portuguese (Heyman 1895, 12-3). Nevertheless, Paravicini impressed Governor-General Mossel, who concurred with his view that the Dutch would never make a profit in Timor unless they expelled the Portuguese (Fiedler 1931, 17-1, 31). In 1757, as part of Dutch attempts to extend their influence, a Dutch post with an interpreter was established at Manatuto, and in 1759 a garrison was established at Liquiçá. Meanwhile, Ermera and other places in present-day Timor-Leste declared loyalty to the Dutch (Alderwerelt 1904, 202, 204). Maubara was considered an ally because it was known as a dependency of Waiwiku-Wehale, a powerful kingdom on the south coast of the island that had signed Paravicini’s contract. In 1759, however, Maubara made its own contract with the Dutch (Heyman 1895, 33). In that year, an interpreter was posted at Maubara, where a stone with the VOC crest was erected. The following year, the ‘kings’ of Maubara and the ‘kings’ of Cutubaba and Cailaco visited Kupang, making a total of ten Maubara ‘kings’ who had become Dutch allies (Alderwerelt 1904, 197-204). 194 The fort established In 1703, Maubara was reported as one of the few eastern Timor principalities that did not acknowledge Portuguese superiority. In 1710 and 1723, however, Maubara paid tribute to the Portuguese, and in 1726 Maubara troops fought alongside the Portuguese to put down a rebellion in Cailaco (Matos 1974, 156, 3389, 368-73). Nevertheless, in 1755, an ensign of the Mardijkers (non-European soldiers employed by the Dutch) met with the Maubara ruler, Dom José Xavier Doutel, who requested help against the Portuguese and was supplied with lead and gunpowder. In 1758, a group of Mardijkers in Maubara helped fight off an attack by the Topasses. Later, the Portuguese sent men from Flores to capture or kill Dom José, but the plot failed. Kupang then accepted Maubara’s offer of allegiance and sent a force to build a fort there, as a base for contact with places further east (Hägerdal n.d.; Fiedler 1931, 17-2, 31). In 1760, the fort was completed. The Portuguese attacked soon after, but were defeated and chased away (Hägerdal n.d.). In the meantime, the Maubara ‘kings’ of Maloa, Balibo, Vehilara and Tonaro submitted to the Dutch (Alderwerelt 1904, 206; the last two places have not yet been identified by the author). The fort abandoned In 1762, an order was given by the governor-general in Batavia to demolish the fort, ‘as no benefit has been produced’ (Alderwerelt 1904, 208). It seems, however, that the fort was not demolished. Instead, most of the soldiers were recalled, with only a token garrison of twelve retained (Hägerdal n.d.). It would appear that even this small force was not kept there for long, and Maubara was then left to defend itself (Alderwerelt 1904, 220). What had caused this extraordinary reversal of policy? The Kupang headman from 1758, H.A. von Plüskow, was strongly in favour of removing the Portuguese from Timor and appears to have been chosen by Governor-General Mossel for this purpose (Fiedler 1931, 17-1, 33). However, Plüskow’s actions resulted in disaster. In 1761, the Portuguese governor sought refuge in Kupang after being forced to flee Lifau by the Topasses. Plüskow offered to restore him by force. After a Dutch expedition was sent to Lifau, the Topasses agreed to submit. However, when Plüskow went to accept their submission, he and all of his retinue were murdered. Mossel’s replacement, Van der Parra, showed little sympathy for their deaths, stating that it was Plüskow’s own fault, as he had meddled in affairs that could bring no profit for the VOC. Furthermore, he prohibited the incurrence of any further cost in checking the Topasses (Alderwerelt 1904, 207-8). In 1769, the Portuguese established a capital at Dili, further east, where they grew ever stronger. The Dutch gradually dropped their claims in the east, except in Maubara (Heyman 1895, 8-9). Yet even there they realised that they were likely to reap more costs than benefits. Sporadic Dutch association with Maubara In 1763, Maubara was one of only four places in the Timor region supplied by the Dutch with an interpreter (Alderwerelt 1904, 209). In the same year, Dom José came to Kupang bringing presents of beeswax and sandalwood. In 1764, he wrote to Kupang announcing his interest in becoming a Protestant and requesting school teachers, but the Dutch could not spare the resources (Hägerdal n.d.). In 1765, the Dutch conferred the titles ‘Don’ and ‘Kapitien’ on the son of the Maubara ‘king’. The ‘king’ received a baton of authority from the Dutch during that year, as did ‘kings’ from Balibo, Ermera and Vilara (presumably the previously unidentified Vehilara). Various other principalities exchanged gifts with the Dutch, including Lissadilla, also in the Maubara region. In 1766, the Dutch gave Maubara some unspecified ‘help against its enemies’ (Alderwerelt 1904, 209-10); the help given was probably in the shape of ammunition, while Maubara’s main enemies continued to be nearby principalities that had allied themselves with the Portuguese. In 1776, Dom José was succeeded by his son Dom Caleto Xavier Doutel, but Dom Caleto was challenged by his uncle, Dom Paulo, who sided with the Portuguese. In 1778, some Maubara village chiefs received flags and weapons from the Dutch, but later surrendered them to the Portuguese (Alderwerelt 1904, 216-7; Hägerdal n.d.). It was also reported that the stone with the VOC crest at Maubara was sent to 195 Macau. In 1779, Dom Caleto wrote to Kupang seeking an interpreter, soldiers and ammunition, but only received a few rifles and some gunpowder. Dom Caleto continued his fight against Dom Paulo and the Portuguese well into the 1780s and eventually prevailed. Despite the meagre Dutch assistance he had received, he continued to declare his loyalty (Hägerdal n.d.). In 1792, Maubara again sought help from Kupang and it was agreed it could be provided secretly through the ‘emperor’ of Amakono, a Dutch vassal. The Dutch were then unsure of their rights in Maubara as opposed to those of the Portuguese, as they had effectively abandoned it after 1762. Also, as the VOC’s finances were in difficulty, they were attempting to cut costs (Alderwerelt 1904, 220). In 1794, Dom Caleto died and his son appealed hastily to Kupang to recognise his rule, as he was worried that if a new ruler was not presented quickly the people would turn to the Portuguese. His request was acceded (Hägerdal n.d.), but Maubara was by then of little importance to the Dutch. The connection gets weaker In 1800, the VOC’s possessions passed to the Netherlands government. In the meantime, war between Britain and France, and the associated French annexation of the Netherlands, led the British to occupy many Dutch possessions, including Kupang in 1812. The Portuguese took advantage of this occurrence to force their claims for several districts, including Maubara. When the interpreter A.C. Muller arrived at Oecusse en route to Maubara in April 1812, he was told that it was Portuguese territory. The Portuguese commander of Batugade later warned the captain of Muller’s ship that if he went to Maubara his vessel would be confiscated and his head would be chopped off. Muller’s captain would not risk the trip and they returned to Kupang (Lambert 1812). Following the restoration of Dutch rule, however, the Portuguese appear to have accepted that Maubara was Dutch, as resident J.A. Hazaart wrote to the Portuguese governor in 1817, apparently in reply to a request for the Dutch government to control its vassal. Hazaart apologised for Maubara assisting enemies of the Portuguese and for giving refuge to runaway slaves, and assured his counterpart that Maubara had been rebuked (pers. comm. H. Hägerdal, 26 March 2011, based on Hazaart 1818). In the following years, Dutch interest in Maubara reached its lowest ebb. In 1837, two men from an English ship were murdered there. The British demanded the prosecution of the offenders, but the government in Batavia was unsure if Maubara was Dutch or Portuguese territory and called for an officer to investigate (Heyman 1895, 33). Then, in 1849, A.G. Brouwer reported that the tyrannical behaviour of the Maubara ‘king’, Don Caletto, had resulted in him being abandoned by his fettor (district headman) and most of his subjects. In the resulting conflict, both Don Calleto and his fettor sought assistance from allies of the Portuguese (Veth 1855, 128-9). Maubara is offered to the Portuguese After establishing their capital at Dili in 1769, the Portuguese exerted great influence in the surrounding districts. One result was that Maubara was encircled by Portuguese allies. For two centuries the Dutch had tried to force the Portuguese out of Timor, but with little success. In 1817, the Dutch governor-general had proposed that the Portuguese sell their Timor possessions, but the Portuguese refused. In 1851, the Dutch were more successful. On 1 August 1851, a Dutch-Portuguese commission met in Dili to discuss their territories’ borders. The Dutch offered 200,000 guilders (80,000 in cash), and the cession of Maubara in return for all Portuguese claims in Flores and the Solor archipelago, excepting the island of Atauro. The Portuguese were apparently so short of funds that Governor Lopes de Lima accepted the offer readily, although he was later recalled in disgrace. Nevertheless, negotiations continued and the mutual cession of territories was formally acknowledged in 1859 (Farram 1999, 42-4). 196 The handover In January 1861, Lieutenant L.W.A. Kessler received notification that the treaty for ‘Timor and subordinate islands’ between the Netherlands and Portugal had been concluded on 20 April 1859, and it was his duty to oversee the handover of Maubara. Kessler summonsed the ‘heads’ of Maubara to Atapupu to explain to them what would happen. Radja Don Joseph and the ‘head’ Boussa were indisposed and could not attend, but Don Joseph’s son Naga Bata appeared, as well as fettor Datoe Lau and radja Mau Lay. There was also kolonel Don Karlo, whom Kessler described as ‘the man who properly had the most to say’ (Kessler 1891, 254-5). Kessler showed them on a map how Maubara was surrounded by Portuguese allies and explained that the two governments had agreed that Maubara should also be under Portuguese control. The Maubara representatives accepted this, but claimed to be hurt as they had always been loyal to the Dutch. Furthermore, their oral traditions told them that the Portuguese had inflicted great cruelties upon their ancestors. Kessler assured them that such things would not occur again. The following day, in the presence of the Portuguese commander of Batugade, the Maubara representatives signed a document stating their willingness to submit to the Portuguese. Don Karlo and Mau Lay then accompanied Kessler to Dili, where they were given a Portuguese flag (Kessler 1891, 256-8). The next day, a Portuguese ship with an officer and some soldiers left Dili for Maubara, while Kessler travelled in a Dutch cruiser; Don Karlo and his retinue travelled overland. The two ships arrived off Maubara on the morning of 1 April 1861, but Kessler and the others did not disembark until Don Karlo arrived in the afternoon. Kessler made a speech explaining the handover and Don Karlo repeated it in the local language; presumably Tocodede. Following that, Kessler ‘drank with them to eternal friendship’. Kessler then lowered and raised the Dutch flag three times, each time greeted by a salute from the Portuguese ship. He then repeated the exercise with the Portuguese flag, this time with salutes from the Dutch ship; on the third occasion he left it flying at the head of the flagstaff (Kessler 1891, 258-9). The Portuguese then handed out gifts and Kessler presented the Dutch flag as a memento to Don Karlo. The brief ceremony was completed and Kessler reboarded his ship (Kessler 1891, 259-60). In the following decades, Maubara was often in conflict with the Portuguese, with revolts there in the 1870s and 1890s. During those times, Maubara looked for assistance across the border, but all requests for help to its old ally in Kupang were refused (Davidson 1994, 69-71). Is the present fort the original? Although unstated, it seems clear from Kessler’s account that the handover took place at the fort, which is right on the beachfront and would have been the only likely place to have had a flagstaff. It is, however, not clear that the fort in Maubara today is the one completed in 1760. That fort was described as round with eight protruding bastions (Alderwerelt 1904, 205). The present fort is virtually rectangular. Spillett (1999) was told by ‘the guardian of the Fort’ that the structure at Maubara was built by the Dutch in 1844, but abandoned in 1850, when negotiations over territory began. This is possible, although it is difficult to imagine that the Dutch held the fort during the chaotic period described in 1849. Possibly the fort was rebuilt by the Portuguese, but it seems unlikely, as an 1870 report, only nine years after the handover, suggests that the fort was then in a rundown condition (Boletim 1870). A more recent Portuguese report supposes that the fort is Dutch, but that it had been restored by the Indonesians (Thomaz 2000, 46). My research continues and hopefully I can report on any re-building of the fort in a future publication. Conclusion The Dutch arrived in the Timor region in 1613 and immediately found themselves in competition with the Portuguese. In 1653, they established a base in Kupang, but had little authority elsewhere on Timor. The Portuguese position was hardly better and the real power in the competition for sandalwood was the Topasses. In 1749, the Dutch achieved victory over the Topasses and subsequently launched a campaign to 197 extend their influence throughout Timor. One result of this was the Dutch alliance with Maubara, which they thought would be a base for expanding their influence further east. In 1760, a fort and garrison was established at Maubara, but the soldiers were withdrawn a few years later and Dutch support for Maubara became sporadic. Gradually, the Portuguese became more entrenched in eastern Timor and the Dutch forgot their old plans of driving them away. In 1859, the Dutch and Portuguese agreed to measures to bring greater certainty to their territorial claims in Timor. Those measures included the cession to the Portuguese of the Dutch claim to Maubara. On 1 April 1861, a ceremony was held at Maubara, during which the Dutch flag was lowered for the last time and the Portuguese one hoisted in its place. The ceremony marked the end of Dutch ambitions to control the eastern half of the island, but the fort remains as a reminder that such thoughts were once entertained. Bibliography Alderwerelt, J. de Roo van 1904, ‘Aanteekeningen over Timor en Onderhoorigheden 1668 tot en met 1809’, Tijdschrift voor Indisch Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, 47(3): 195-226. Boletim 1870, ‘Viagem da corvets sà da bandeira a Timor (Continação do no. 28)’, Boletim da Provincia de Maucau e Timor, XVI(45): 189-190. Davidson, K.G. 1994, ‘The Portuguese colonisation of Timor: The final stage, 1850, 1912’, PhD thesis, University of New South Wales. Farram, S. 1999, ‘The two Timors: The partitioning of Timor by the Portuguese and the Dutch’, Studies in languages and cultures of East Timor, 2: 38-54. Fiedler, H. 1931, ‘Hans Albrecht v. Plüskow, Geschichte eines kleinen Kontors V.C.O. 1758-1761’, Deutsche Wacht, 17-1: 31-35, 17-2: 27-35. Hägerdal, H. n.d. ‘Maubara’, unpublished manuscript based on Dutch archives; author’s collection. Hazaart, J.A. 1818, ‘Letter from Hazaart to Joze Pinto, G. v. Dilie, 25 October 1817’, in Arsip Nasional Republik Indonesia, Jakarta, Arsip Timor, 1818, no. 34. Heyman, A. 1895. De Timor Tractaten (1859 en 1893), S.C. van Doesburgh, Leiden. Lambert, C. 1812, ‘Statements from “tolk” A. Muller and Chinese trader/captain, 1812’, in Arsip Nasional Republik Indonesia, Jakarta, Algemeene Secretarie, Arsip Timor, 1616-1890, no. 21. Matos, A.T. de 1974, Timor Português, 1515-1769: contribuição para a sua história, Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de Lisboa, Instituto Histórico Infante Dom Henrique, Lisbon. Spillett, P.G. 1999, ‘The pre-colonial history of the island of Timor, together with some notes on the Makassan influence in the island’, unpublished manuscript, Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory, Darwin. Thomaz, L.F.F.R. 2000, Reconhecimento preliminary património histórico-cultural subsistente em Timor-Leste: Relatória da visita ao territória effectuada em fevereiro de 2000 A.D., Lisbon. Veth, P.J. 1855, ‘Het Eiland Timor’, offprint of De Gids, 8-1: 546-611, 8-2: 55-100. 198 29 Making Histories: Whose Stories Are Told? Some Considerations From Maubara Steven Farram and David Mearns Introduction As a new state and post-conflict society, Timor-Leste faces many difficulties in writing a national history. A national history can be an important tool for nation-building and legitimising the state, but to be truly inclusive in Timor-Leste such a history will need to overcome language and ethnic divisions, and other significant historical schisms. This paper considers the role of traditional oral histories in the writing of a national history, and uses recently-collected examples from the Maubara subdistrict. Custodians of traditional Maubara histories desired that their stories be recorded and passed on to outsiders explicitly to ensure that their culture is recognised, valued and available for future generations. How do such stories intersect with the evidence-based history associated with Western scholarship, and is it possible to incorporate them into a national history? We argue that oral traditions have an important contribution to make to our understanding of Timorese history. We further argue that the attempt must be made to incorporate oral traditions into Timor-Leste’s national history, otherwise a large section of the community will be effectively de-legitimised and ‘written out of history’. Why should oral traditions be used in writing the history of Timor-Leste? In general, Western academic historians gave little credence to oral sources as historical evidence until the 1960s. Before then, such sources were generally classed as unreliable or, at best, of secondary importance to written documentary evidence. Yet many of the documents readily relied upon by historians are created on the basis of oral evidence, such as reports of commissions of inquiry or census reports. News reports are also often used by historians, but such reports are frequently based on oral sources and have been shaped by the reporter’s subjective interpretations of what is important, or influenced by the reporter’s biases and editorial policy (Douglas, Roberts and Thompson 1988, 17, 21-22). Since the 1980s, anthropologists too have become very aware of the ‘situatedness’ of both informants and ethnographers in constructing their representations of other cultures and societies (for example, Clifford and Marcus, 1986; Clifford, 1988). Confidence in producing ‘scientifically objective’ accounts of society has taken a heavy blow and a methodological shift has occurred. It is now thought to be obligatory to contextualise thoroughly the information that is produced in the course of studying any population. Even the written accounts that anthropologists sometimes receive from local people stand simply as specific versions generated for specific audiences. This is even more so for oral accounts. Thus, it is important to understand and document the circumstances in and purposes for which any piece of information was produced. Much of the written history of Timor-Leste from the colonial period is based on documents created by colonial officials, secure in the biased belief of their own superiority. Jacob van Leur (1967, 261-89) has given many examples of pre-Second World War historiography of Southeast Asia that assume that soon after Europeans arrived in the region, they attained control of the local political and economic systems. Van Leur, however, proposed that at least until the nineteenth century, Europeans had to fit into the existing systems and were no more than equal players with the indigenous power holders, and often much less than that. This was certainly the case in Timor, but by the early twentieth century, the European colonialists were firmly in control. It is this group’s voice that is now heard most loudly in the written history; the voices of the Timorese themselves are seldom discernable. Ranajit Guha (1988, 35, 38-39), a member of a group of writers who sought to express the voices of the ‘subalterns’ (those of inferior rank), has argued that although there was a dominant group in society that should be considered when writing that society’s 199 history, it should not be given the ‘spurious primacy’ it has usually received. The difficulty, however, is how to let the ‘subaltern’ speak? How does one write a history ‘from below’ for Timor-Leste? While the Timorese had no written history before the arrival of outsiders to their island, they did and do have a rich oral tradition. In non-literate societies, oral tradition is usually entrusted to individuals specially trained and ritually sanctioned to recall events and details important to the community. Experience tells us that such ritually important material can have a remarkable stability throughout time. Yet many Europeans have dismissed this source as unreliable. H.G. Schulte Nordholt, for example, was a former Dutch colonial official-turned anthropologist who spent much time talking to West Timorese people to gain an understanding of their political system, but dismissed their oral traditions as of no use in making an historical analysis, because they did not supply ‘concrete data’. For Schulte Nordholt (1971, 157), the only reliable sources were the documents written by ‘outsiders’; essentially, the records left behind by the Dutch and Portuguese. The value of colonial records in the writing of Timorese history is undeniable, but it is rash to disallow any validity to the Timorese oral tradition. These stories are one of the few sources available for understanding events from a Timorese perspective. Like any source they have to be treated with caution, and a whole literature has developed about the appropriate evaluation and use of oral traditions as a tool for the writing of history (for example, Vansina 1985). This is not the place to expand on that literature, but we assert that if there is to be any attempt made to write history ‘from below’ in relation to Timor then these sources must be given attention. In our view, all oral traditions, where known, should be considered alongside the written documentary evidence in order to give a more balanced perspective, and to give a sense of history as the ‘lived experience’ of the people whose lives are being documented. It is perhaps particularly important that a national history should resonate with the experience of the citizens, but this notion is challenged by the diversity of local traditions and the varied circumstances of the many ethnolinguistic and cultural groups that inhabit Timor-Leste. Negotiating these problems will not always be easy, but we believe it is an effort worth making. How can oral traditions be used in a national history? An author often quoted by those writing about the Timor region is anthropologist James J. Fox. Fox’s early ethnographic work in the region contained an added historical dimension, which he stated was a ‘counter to ethnographic narrowness and a corrective to oversimplified generalizations’. He argued that ‘often historical records cannot be understood without ... intimate knowledge of the ethnographic situation’ (Fox 1977, viii). We concur with the latter statement and believe that the history of Timor-Leste can be best taught with adequate reference to the customs and traditions of the local people. Models for such an approach do exist. Michael Leach (2010, 129) reports on the example of the national high school history curriculum of Vanuatu, which incorporates knowledge gained from oral traditions into mainstream Western historiography. In the Vanuatu model, students are encouraged as part of their studies to seek information from traditional sources (for example, village elders) on matters such as land tenure. This approach has the virtue of alerting students to the potential use of oral traditions to enhance an understanding of the past. Furthermore, as Leach (2010, 129) notes, the example of land tenure is particularly pertinent to TimorLeste, where land ownership disputes are matters of ongoing concern. The example highlights how local perceptions of the past can have a continuing impact on the problems of the present. Indeed, at the local level, history is the lived experience of the population transmitted through the oral traditions maintained by their elders. In the search for ‘objectivity’, it would be both unwise and disrespectful to dismiss local truths as not sufficiently factual. The ‘lived past’ as a cultural force is as much a determinant of present action as any recorded list of events or avowed past policies. Some examples from Maubara The authors of this paper are David Mearns, anthropologist, and Steven Farram, historian. In 2010, Mearns began ethnographic research in the Maubara subdistrict, while Farram began researching the documentary history of the region. Mearns spent time with various elders in Maubara who, after the performance of 200 appropriate rituals, recited to him some of the histories of that place for recording. The origin stories of Maubara are clearly of the mythological variety, as the original inhabitants of Maubara are said to have emerged from the ground, had hairy tongues and ate their food raw. At some point, however, they were joined by others who came from the south, and it is from this point that the story appears to display factual content and becomes of interest to the historian. The newcomers came from Loro Liurai, in the Suai region. The stories talk of various migrations and places of habitation. There is also a story about conflict over territory with people from Liquiça, who were chased away. These stories may be of use in tracing migration patterns and could possibly be tested against archaeological evidence. They could also be compared with traditions from other areas of the island. Peter Spillett (1999) travelled throughout Timor over many years, collecting traditional oral narratives as he went. Stories from the important south coast kingdom of Waiwiku-Wehale, not far from Suai, name Loro Liurai as that region’s first king. Subsequently, representatives of Wehale who used the same name ruled on its behalf in various places, including Liquiçá. Spillett collected similar stories in the Liquiçá subdistrict. Since the structuralist revolution in anthropology led by Claude Lévi-Strauss (1969) in the midtwentieth century, we have been cautioned against accepting such myths as simply muddled history or as ‘charters’ legitimating the present reality. In the structuralist’s hands, myths become gateways to unpacking central cultural themes within a society. However, the various approaches are not necessarily incompatible and may be employed to varying degrees to illuminate local understandings of the past. The Maubara stories fit a recognised cultural pattern (see Fox and Sather 1996; and Fox 1997, for example) and relate how newcomers from the Suai region came to occupy the position of liurai, or king, in Maubara, while the original inhabitants had control of the important position of lia nain, or ‘keeper of the word’, responsible for ritual practice and customary law. Such a division of function is still acknowledged in Maubara today. This knowledge remains important for comprehending the contemporary social relations of different groups in the community and is crucial in understanding the actions of groups or individuals, both in the past and the present. Indeed, as Andrew McWilliam (2005) has noted, in the period of resistance to Indonesian rule, it was the strength of traditional social and cultural patterns of kinship and marriage alliance that provided the framework of trust required to operate as clandestine groups. Mythical histories, or more respectfully, local oral histories, as assembled by ethnographers, tend to be collected in a somewhat piecemeal fashion, as opportunity arises or can be initiated. As a result, they often come across as somewhat rambling narratives, struggling to take shape and with numerous recursive references to other local knowledge. The result can be a knot of confused threads to unpick. While certain individuals may carry the authority to recount the tales, as Mearns rediscovered in Maubara, they are not above needing prompting from other knowledgeable elders when their memory is not perfect. This is why one rarely or never hears the same tale told exactly the same way twice. The result is that unlike a documentary source that is already a fixed object (though subject, of course, to differing interpretations), oral accounts do not remain entirely consistent, and there is a great danger in imagining that the first version can be written down and ‘fixed’ as the local history. Moreover, the transmission of local histories is normally from one qualified individual to another eligible person within the local lineage or house (uma). It is a personal and interpersonal process. How one tells the tale, where one places the emphasis and what one decides to omit or include or elaborate all affect the outcome. In a sense, local oral history is remade every time it is told. These are all matters that must be kept in mind by the historian who wishes to use such sources. Of most interest to the historian are the stories that mention identifiable individuals and events known from the documentary evidence. Most of the stories Mearns was told related to the origins of the Maubara people and their customs. These stories are typically invoked as the basis for customary law, or lisan, which is the system that sanctions and legitimises power, authority and the distribution of resources, such as land. A person seeking to explain his or her position in the local social and geographical space will do so by reckoning connections to leading figures of the past. In the process, stories of past conflicts within the local region may be recounted. Thus, in the stories Mearns was told, there was some reference to wider internecine warfare and rebellion against the Portuguese, and mention of individuals, such as Dom Kleto, Dom Karlou and Mau Vili; all of whom are known from other sources already considered authoritative. 201 Typically, East Timorese narratives have some common elements. These include tales of ancestors emerging from the land as noted, but also outsiders versus ‘natives’, old houses and ‘newcomers’, power versus ritual authority, stories of usurpation via trickery and betrayal, and so on. All of these can be and are being adapted in relation to more recent history. The coming of the Portuguese, the invasions of the Japanese and the Indonesians, even the coming of the modern state, are susceptible to structurally similar styles of narrative account. Let us give one small sample of a section of a story collected in Maubara subdistrict to illustrate some of the points we are making. This part of the narrative was collected by Mearns, in the presence of the liurai and his younger brother, from the lia nain of one uma lulik that was the nucleus of a Maubara Lissa aldeia. He said, I will continue the story from there to the re-inauguration of Bei Besi Mau Lesu, Kaisamba, Bei Bere Mau Bau, Tapo Tukudu, Suso o Gere Gua (These are all the names of places). They took gongs. Wandering continuously from the districts in the south. Arrived and took authority and the people from us. They made an agreement, not to just seize it all like that. If that continued, finally there would be conflict. The newcomer ancestors said: Power over the people is in my hands, but the decision of life or death for any person is in the hands of you natives of the place. Thus I am raja and you are the great judge that administers justice to the people who have done wrong. It is your law that must be upheld. The story seeks to explain the origins of present political and geographical arrangements as people in the village experience them. It also seeks to assert the continuing importance of the original holders of the law and their ritual status. For local people, the immediate world around them only makes sense if they can understand how and why it came to be thus. This is the history of the ancestors whose presence is recognised not only in story, but in important rites that take place before the shrine house of the area. It is these rites, usually associated with marriage and death, which regularly and spectacularly demonstrate the ongoing importance of the lived history of the past. Conclusion In the present instance, these stories were collected as part of a study of local culture, but for the purpose of writing a national history of Timor-Leste, such stories should be collected throughout the country in a systematic fashion. Such a collection could be used to augment what is known from the documentary evidence and would certainly help to bring a Timorese perspective to the writing of a national history. Citizens who have their own history recognised and respected are much more likely to subscribe to an ‘official’ national history that emphasises what the population have in common. Bibliography Clifford, J. and G. Marcus (eds) 1986, Writing Culture, University of California Press, Berkeley. Clifford, J. 1988. The Predicament of Culture, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England. Douglas, Louise, Alan Roberts and Ruth Thompson 1988, Oral History: A Handbook, Allen and Unwin, Sydney. Fox, James J. 1977. Harvest of the palm: Ecological change in eastern Indonesia, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Fox, James J. and Clifford Sather (eds) 1996, Origins, Ancestry and Alliance, ANU Press, Canberra. Fox, James J. (ed) 1997, The Poetic Power of Place, ANU Press, Canberra. Guha, Ranajit 1988, ‘Preface’, and ‘On some aspects of the historiography of colonial India’, in R. Guha and G.C. Spivak (eds), Selected subaltern studies, Oxford University Press, New York. Leach, Michael 2010, ‘Writing history in post-conflict Timor-Leste’, in Michael Leach, Nuno Canas Mendes, Antero B. da Silvam Alarico da Costa Ximenes and Bob Boughton (eds.), Understanding Timor-Leste, Timor-Leste Studies Association, Melbourne. Leur, J.C. van 1967, Indonesian trade and society: Essays in Asian social and economic history, W. van Hoeve, The Hague. Lévi-Strauss, Claude 1969, Structural Anthropology, Penguin, London. 202 McWilliam, Andrew 2005. ‘Houses of Resistance in East Timor: Structuring Sociality in the New Nation’, Anthropological Forum Vol. 15, No. 1, March, 27-44. Schulte Nordholt, H.G. 1971, The political system of the Atoni of Timor, Martinus Nijhoff, The Hague. Spillett, Peter G. 1999, ‘The pre-colonial history of the island of Timor, together with some notes on the Makassan influence in the island’, unpublished manuscript, Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory, Darwin. Vansina, Jan 1985, Oral Tradition as History, University of Wisconsin Press, Madison. 203 30 If My Aunty Had Balls, She’d Be My Uncle: Dubious Counter-Factuals in East Timorese History Clinton Fernandes1 Towards the end of 2010, as the Wikileaks media group and a number of newspapers around the world were publishing excerpts from leaked US diplomatic cables, a former Canadian diplomat posed a counterfactual argument. Had such cables been published during East Timor’s war of independence from Indonesia, he argued, the consequences would have been negative. He wrote: I used to be a diplomat and I used to write secret cables, like the ones being released by Wikileaks .…while posted in Jakarta, my job was to find out as much as I could about the human rights abuses being committed by the Indonesian government, and to help apply whatever pressure we could on Jakarta to make them stop… These cables gave my government the ammunition it needed to lean heavily on the Indonesian leadership at the UN and at summits like APEC… With that information we knew what the Indonesian military was doing and that the government in Jakarta was lying to the international community. And we could confront them, and we could pressure them to change. And ultimately, thanks to the perseverance of the Timorese and the efforts of thousands of diplomats and activists and politicians, this worked. The international arm-twisting led to a referendum, and Timor is now independent (Gilmore 2010). The argument, therefore, is a sequential one: leaked cables would have revealed the sources of information that went into the cables, the flow of information back to Canada would have stopped, Canadian and other governments would not have engaged in ‘international arm-twisting’ against Indonesia, there would have been no referendum, and East Timor would not be independent today. The counter-factual story being told here is that unauthorized disclosures of diplomatic cables would have prevented the Canadian government from confronting, pressuring and leaning heavily on the Indonesian government. The agent of change in this counter-factual story is the Canadian government and its diplomats, whose cables led to ‘international arm-twisting.’2 Missing from this account of Canada’s foreign policy towards Indonesia and East Timor is the indispensable role of Canadian activists. In reality, as I show below, it was they who forced the Canadian government to act as it did. The diplomat’s account is not only historically flawed, it airbrushes these activists out of history, and leaves intact what Rudolph Rocker called ‘the ruinous delusion that salvation always comes from above’ (Rocker 1938). In Canada, there had been very little coordinated activism on behalf of East Timor until 1985. A number of individuals and small groups had spoken up very early on, and people had discussed the case of East Timor as part of a broader critique of North-South relations, but there had not been a coordinated campaign with a focus on East Timor. In the absence of domestic activism, the Canadian government provided diplomatic support to Indonesia from the very beginning: six months after the invasion, the Canadian government played host to Suharto and provided him with a $200-million mixed aid package (Todd 1991). Two years later, Canada’s ambassador to Jakarta visited East Timor on a tour which had been organised by the Indonesian military. The ambassador, Glen Shortliffe, claimed that the Timorese were better off as a result of the invasion, saying that ‘anything undertaken by the Indonesians represents an improvement over conditions which existed hitherto’ (Hossie 1992; Eglin 2003). In 1984, the Canadian government hosted an arms bazaar for its weapons suppliers in the Mandarin Hotel in Jakarta. 1 UNSW Canberra. I wish to thank Dr Peter Slezak for helpful and productive conversations. I set aside the question of whether edited versions of (leaked) cables might have concealed the sources of information. 2 204 All this began to change in 1985, when Elaine Briere, a Canadian photographer who had visited the territory for two weeks in 1974, read an article about East Timor by US philosopher-activist Noam Chomsky. Briere, who at the time did not realise the extent of Chomsky’s involvement in political activism nor his prestige among other activists, contacted him about his article. By chance, Chomsky had planned to speak the very next week at a public meeting in Victoria, British Columbia. Briere attended the meeting and met him after his talk. She explained that she had taken photographs in East Timor eleven years before. Chomsky immediately connected Briere to all the solidarity networks for East Timor, who were startled to learn that there existed a professionally produced photographic record of life before the Indonesian invasion. These photographs showed a peaceful society which had ‘no unemployed or unwanted people in the village’, people ‘lived a relatively comfortable lifestyle in close relation to their surroundings’, and ‘no one seemed rushed or in a hurry’ (Briere 2004, 3). They gave the lie to the Indonesian government’s claims that the East Timorese were unhappy before the invasion. Almost every East Timor activist group around the world used Elaine Briere’s photographs. At first, Briere began trying to enlist the support of Canadian NGOs involved in Southeast Asia, like CUSO,3 Canada World Youth, and Crossroads Canada. It soon became apparent to her that these groups had no intention of antagonising the government of Indonesia, with whom they had lucrative contracts. For this reason, she worked with activists like Derek Evans from the Canada-Asia Working Group and Maureen Martin, a lawyer from Ottawa.4 Martin was a professor of law at Carleton University in Ottawa, teaching international human rights and involved in indigenous rights at the United Nations. She learned of East Timor through a friend in the UN bureaucracy, Gudmundur Alfredsson. Martin began teaching about it, and several students came on board. One of these students was Sharon Scharfe, whose thesis became the book ‘Complicity’ (Scharfe 1996). They began to lobby Parliament and hold conferences about East Timor. This was how the East Timor Alert Network began in Canada in 1986 – with the work of Derek Evans, Elaine Briere and Maureen Martin. There were three other students at the time who were instrumental in the efforts in Ottawa: Gary Evans, Tim Colby and Erik Millet. Martin began to work closely with Jose Ramos-Horta, attended the international seminars in London and Portugal, and later became a member of the International Platform of Jurists for East Timor, convened by Pedro Pinto Leite. As conditions worsened in East Timor and the general public continued to be ignorant on the subject, Martin decided that they needed a high-profile celebrity to put East Timor on the map. She started another NGO, Artists for East Timor, in 1992. She recruited Norwegian musician Morten Harket of the pop group A-Ha! and Michael Hutchence of the group INXS. Harket would later play an important role in the award of the Nobel Peace Prize to Bishop Belo and Jose Ramos-Horta. The Canadian solidarity movement made it increasingly difficult for the Canadian government to continue its overt support for Indonesia. All these individuals go missing in a historically-flawed account that claims that it was the sanctity of its diplomatic cables which enabled the Canadian government to pressure Indonesia. Counter-factuals do have a role, of course, and my point is not to rule out counter-factuals in toto. But some counter-factuals are so implausible given the historical circumstances that they serve no purpose other than to devalue the role of activists and other so-called ‘ordinary people’ in bringing about change. ‘What if the New Order hadn't been so violent?’ - well, how plausible is that? It came to power through massacres, and its leaders regarded psychological warfare operations as a legitimate way of governing. Why would they act differently in East Timor? Typically, counter-factuals often culminate in predictable conclusions that downplay the importance of activists' actions, or the fact that their tactics were designed to cope with a particular set of conditions. (‘If the Asian Financial Crisis hadn't happened…’, ‘If Suharto hadn't been so corrupt...’, then ‘Indonesian democracy wouldn't have happened…’ or ‘East Timorese independence wouldn't have happened…’) The implication of these counter-factuals is that the activists got lucky, and that any further political progress will depend on luck, not on anything that can be influenced by ‘ordinary people’. 3 CUSO was originally an acronym for the Canadian University Service Overseas. At the time of Briere’s activism it was known only as CUSO because most of its volunteers were tradespeople, not university students. 4 She was known as Maureen Davies at the time. 205 Interestingly, it is rare to see the other kind of counter-factual being run – what about ‘our’ actions: what if Australian foreign policy hadn't supported the dictatorship? In October 1975, during Indonesia’s terror and destabilisation campaign in the border areas of East Timor, five foreign journalists (two Australian, two British and one New Zealander) were at the town of Balibo, which was not militarily significant in itself but was on the road to the Indonesian objective of Maliana. If the foreign journalists had obtained film footage of Indonesia’s military campaign and conveyed it to the outside world, the Indonesian operation, which relied on deniability, would have been blown. Indonesian special forces captured and killed the journalists on the morning of 16 October. The killing caused alarm in the Indonesian high command. Worried about the international diplomatic consequences, they called a halt to the military operation. Indonesia’s concern about a negative international reaction combined with its own logistical problems and the onset of the wet season led to nearly five weeks of inactivity as it waited to see what the reaction would be. But there was no adverse reaction from Australia, Britain or New Zealand. This was the real ‘green light’; the lack of international condemnation at the killing of five foreign journalists meant that the Indonesian military could treat the East Timorese as they wished. What if more Western academics who built their careers on the study of Indonesia had spoken up about the human catastrophe in East Timor? After all, several academics at the Australian National University ‘were known supporters of Indonesia’s 24-year annexation of East Timor,’ as Geoffrey Gunn writes in a perceptive article: Very few of the ANU Indonesia scholars broke ranks with the official Australian-Indonesian orthodoxy on legal recognition of East Timor as part of the Indonesian Republic. More than that, a number of ANU academic economists and political scientists – here dubbed the Jakarta Lobby – actually spoke out in defence of Jakarta’s occupation of East Timor. … the Lobby set research priorities more or less to accommodate the Jakarta government’s own priorities. There was simply no space for an independent East Timor in this arrangement… With the new reality looming, namely the UN takeover of East Timor, the Lobby were hastily obliged to readjust their positions with respect to Indonesia and the former occupied territory. For the experts among them, the new reality offered both challenges and rewards (Gunn 2007). Another counter-factual: what if academics who discussed death tolls had been more numerically literate? What if they’d used Leslie matrices? Instead, there were numerically illiterate objections to estimates of a death toll of 200,000 East Timorese. One objection was that the official population estimate of 1970 was unreliable because the Portuguese collected a poll tax during each census and their population counts were probably underestimates (Cribb 2001). What this objection misses, of course, is that ‘undercounting the 1975 population will make excess mortality counts more conservative if later censuses are betterenumerated’ (Staveteig 2007, 12). A different objection was that Indonesia had built schools and other forms of infrastructure – unlike the Portuguese. This objection misses the consequence that ‘the likely resulting decreases in “natural” mortality would actually have far more excess deaths to account for than others. This is because if Timorese mortality due to “normal” circumstances was in any way decreasing during the period… then projected population totals would have been much higher, along with the counts of missing persons’ (Staveteig 2007, 24). A counter-factual of considerable relevance today: what if more Indonesia scholars start speaking up about the situation in West Papua? A grim observation is that today’s Indonesia scholarship stays clear of West Papua, and Pacific Island scholarship stops at the border with Papua New Guinea, and so West Papua is the dash between Asia-Pacific studies. To reiterate: the point is not to rule out all counter-factuals, but that the focus on Suharto, Habibie and others is often demonstrably implausible, and also denies the indispensable role of ‘ordinary people.’ An example of the latter are the East Timorese who came of age during the occupation. Known as the juventude (‘youth’), they generally comprise individuals born in the 1960s and 1970s. They made enormous contributions and sacrifices. The diplomat’s account that began this chapter largely ignores them. He writes, ‘these cables gave my government the ammunition it needed to lean heavily on the Indonesian leadership at the UN and at summits like APEC.’ In what follows, I outline briefly the juventude’s 206 spectacular display of strategic non-violent action at the November 1994 APEC summit in Jakarta. They – not the Canadian government – regained the initiative from the Suharto regime, which had taken significant steps to renew its regional and international diplomatic links after the 1991 Santa Cruz massacre. The Indonesian government made meticulous security preparations before the 1994 APEC Summit. But 29 East Timorese youths gate-crashed Suharto’s party in a powerful display of non-violent action, shattering the regime’s façade of control. They arrived in taxis outside the US Embassy, climbed over the 2.6 meter railings and jumped into the embassy compound before security guards positioned outside could stop them. Once inside, they unfurled banners and chanted ‘Free East Timor.’ Dozens of riot police from the Mobile Brigade arrived soon afterwards and surrounded the embassy. A stand-off began in full view of the international media, and the cause of East Timor was dramatically reasserted onto the international agenda. This was no spontaneous action. It had been planned meticulously, and had its origins more than a year before when seven East Timorese students had entered the Jakarta embassies of Finland and Sweden with the intention of staying there as long as possible. Foreign activists had prepared these students on the procedural details of how to enter the embassies, how to conduct themselves once they had been allowed to enter, how to insist on their rights, and how to resist the pressures to which they would be subjected in order to get them to leave. The external solidarity movement had ensured that Finnish and Swedish media and human rights defenders were briefed about the developing situation. The problem had been that the students – despite their intentions and training – were too frightened by the task and too unfamiliar with the pressure of the situation. They succumbed to a combination of threats (from the Indonesian police) and guarantees of safe passage (from the Indonesian Foreign ministry). Those in the Finnish embassy left after a day, while those in the Swedish embassy left after 10 days. Several months after their exit, and after considerable harassment by the Indonesian authorities, they were allowed to go to Portugal without much publicity. Embassy staff had been quite unsympathetic to them, and had pressured to leave quickly so as not to upset their countries’ relations with the Suharto regime. The students’ quick exit from the embassies was unhelpful to the independence cause, which required that they stay put for as long as possible in order to create an international incident and focus the world’s attention on East Timor. However, the solidarity movement and the East Timorese students in Indonesia learnt valuable lessons from the experience, and were much more professional at the 1994 APEC summit. The students’ elaborate preparations and rehearsals contributed to their strong discipline. They rejected numerous offers of safe passage and asylum, staying inside the embassy for twelve consecutive days. After ensuring that the international media’s focus during APEC was not on Suharto’s success story but on East Timor, the students accepted an offer of asylum to Portugal, thus beginning the fourth phase of their operation. They received new clothes at the embassy and were taken in a Red Cross bus to the airport for their flight to Lisbon. After arriving at Lisbon airport on Friday 25 November, they resisted the temptation to speak triumphantly to the waiting media. Instead, they indicated they would say nothing until a press conference the following Monday, which would be led by Jose Ramos-Horta. Thus they maintained self-control and discipline from the start to the finish of their operation. They had achieved their aim, which was not to seek asylum but to stay in the embassy for as long as possible. There would be several subsequent embassy occupations in Jakarta. In 1995, five East Timorese entered the British embassy, eight entered the Dutch embassy, 21 entered the Japanese embassy (to coincide with the start of the APEC summit in Osaka), nine entered the French embassy, and – on 7 December, the twentieth anniversary of the invasion, 112 Indonesian and East Timorese supporters entered the Russian and Dutch embassies. In 1996, two East Timorese entered the Australian embassy, five entered the New Zealand embassy, 12 entered the Polish embassy and four entered the French embassy. Embassies in Jakarta were practically converted into fortresses to prevent these actions. Counter-factuals about the consequences of diplomatic cables being published by the Wikileaks media group and a number of newspapers around the world ignore all this. These counter-factuals often consign activists’ successes to ‘luck’ (which may never come), or ‘objective conditions’ (which may no longer be favourable), rather than 207 encouraging people to think strategically about Justice for East Timor, Peace in West Papua, and other events that they can influence – often decisively. Bibliography Cribb, R. 2001, ‘How Many Deaths?: Problems in the Statistics of Massacre in Indonesia (1965–1966) and East Timor (1975–1980)’ in Wessel, I. and G. Wimhoefer (eds), Violence in Indonesia, Hamburg, Abera-Verl, pp 82–95. Eglin, P. 2003, ‘East Timor, the Globe and Mail, and Propaganda’, Portuguese Studies Review, 11(1). Gilmore, S. 2010, ‘Wikileaks just made the world more repressive’, Globe and Mail, 30 November. Gunn, G. 2007, ‘The state of East Timor studies after 1999”, Journal of Contemporary Asia, 37(1): 95-114. Hossie, L. 1992, ‘Will Ottawa put its money where its mouth is?’, The Globe and Mail, 4 April. Scharfe, S. 1996, Complicity: Human Rights and Canadian Foreign Policy – The Case of East Timor, Black Rose Books, Montreal. Todd, D. 1991, ‘Shameful Silence, Kitchener-Waterloo Record’, Southam News, 28 November. 208 31 Modernising Timor-Leste: Moving beyond ideology Damian Grenfell1 The context for the foreign presence discussed in this essay is the intervention in Timor-Leste beginning in 1999, marking the shift from a contested nationalism to one of independent sovereignty and as such, a new nation-state. The definition of an intervention here is broadly framed, moving beyond the emphasis on military-led efforts to incorporate the fuller gamut of activities employed to transform societies; state-, peace- and nation-building, development and human security. In the context of Timor-Leste, the intervention that began in 1999 has moved through various phases; a security and humanitarian focus, shifting on to development and state-building, with a renewed emphasis on security in response to the socio-political crisis from 2006 to 2008. The term ‘intervention’ is therefore used here to describe the process of attempted social transformation undertaken in the wake of mass conflict by a range of nongovernment organisations, security agencies and state institutions, businesses, consultants, volunteers and so forth. For all the differences between these institutional forms, a common basis to their operations is the intent to change the fabric of East Timorese society so as to ensure a sustainable modernity comes to the fore. The reasons for doing so might differ dramatically; such actions may be motivated by humanitarianism while others are in an attempt to integrate Timor-Leste into a global market and nationstate system. Either way, the foreign presence tends to be framed by a compulsion to ensure a modern transformation of society is achieved. The military-humanitarian interventions that we have witnessed since the end of the Cold War—in part a response to the changing nature of warfare—have given rise to some highly sophisticated critiques. Authors such as Oliver Richmond, Mark Duffield, Michael Humphrey and David Chandler have in different ways worked to counter the projection of interventions as necessarily benign, rather demonstrating that interventions are embedded in power relations between the intervener and the intervened and that these can in turn result in unsustainable and conflict-driven societies (Duffield 2001 and 2007; Humphrey 2009; Chandler 2010; Richmond 2008a and 2011). As part of this debate, one of the most established critiques is that of ‘liberal interventionism’ or a ‘liberal peace’, in effect the idea that interventions use the opportunity presented by conflicts in order to rewrite societies through constructing a system that mirrors an idealised version of the political norms and systems of Western liberal societies. The critiques themselves differ substantially, in terms of emphasis, logic as well as theoretical framing, though it is perhaps not an undue generalisation to say that they share a view that the “principal aim of peace operations thus becomes not so much about creating spaces for negotiated conflict resolution between states but about actively contributing to the construction of liberal politics, economies and societies” (Bellamy and Williams 2008, 4-5). While each of these theorists could be discussed in turn with regards to this article, the work of Oliver Richmond will suffice in this instance to demonstrate how the critical literature, as well as practice, needs to move beyond ideology so as to consider ontology as a way of better ensuring a post-conflict peace. Coming from a critical theory perspective, Richmond focuses much of his work on the way in which a ‘liberal peace’ is established through particular forms of institutions which sit in distinction to the political domain of a local population. Speaking of peace as implemented in a period of intense globalization, Richmond writes that: Essentially, what arises from this ‘hegemonic discourse’ of peace is what Mandelbuam refers to as the ‘Wilsonian triad’ which, because of its liberal intentions, is based upon a universalist understanding of peace as an objective of intervention (Mandelbaum 2002, 6). Consequently, this legitimates a broad swath of contested means deployed directly and indirectly in the process of intervention. This works on 1 I would like to express my thanks to Emily Toome for her assistance with this article and for the very helpful comments provided by the anonymous reviewers. 209 the logic that democratization, free market reform, human rights protection, and development, will ultimately create peace in post-conflict societies. This is exactly what the ‘peacebuilding consensus’ implies (Richmond 2004, 140). Thinkers such as David Chandler have criticised the approaches made by Richmond and others, suggesting that the liberal rhetoric of state-building efforts have been taken too literally and do not represent the actual nature of the interventions on the ground (Chandler 2010, Chapter Two). In the case of Timor-Leste however, it is argued here that the whole process of intervention has been both rhetorically and materially framed by efforts to entrench the institutional and social infrastructure of a liberal hegemony. Democracy and constitutionalism have not only framed the national systems of governance, but elections have been extended into the most localised communities where once they were not required. Similarly, much development in Timor-Leste simply assumes a market economy is the natural eventuality, and as such everything from micro-finance schemes through to changing agricultural practices are based on the assumption of capital accrual and capitalist modes of exchange. Across both governance and development sectors, there are constant discursive demands for ‘transparency’ (contra patrimony), ‘participation’ (contra patriarchy) and ‘universal human rights’ (contra the narrowness of customary culture) which have each come as part of the attempted liberal transformation of East Timorese society. Richmond argues that this attempt at liberal transformation in Timor-Leste has been highly problematic. He suggests firstly that it has failed to establish a meaningful social contract between society and the governing institutions and has also not responded adequately to the every-day needs of the population (Richmond 2011). The first point here, the failure in generating political legitimacy, is of primary interest as it is seen to originate in the gap that is created when local political forms are a mismatch with the demands of a competitive party based democracy and an independent bureaucracy. Going further, Roland Paris—along with Richmond when writing on Timor-Leste—has warned that building a democratic politics, especially in terms of elections, can be politically dangerous when the local political culture has had little if any experience with democratic systems of governance (Richmond 2011; Paris 2004). From this position it is difficult to locate a clear solution; to either go ahead is to risk social upheaval and the failure to transform a society, but to not pursue these goals is essentially to impugn that the local population is incapable. A tendency then, as David Chandler suggests by quoting Roland Paris and Timothy Sisk, is that “in dealing with the non-liberal other, the issues are so complex and dilemma-laden that pragmatic ‘muddling through’ is the only solution” (Chandler 2010, 37). The approach to the problem of political legitimacy and the appropriate form of governance becomes difficult to resolve as it is set within parameters where the measure of the East Timorese has become their ability to conform to a political ideal based on European traditions. Faced with these problems of legitimacy, too few non-Timorese seem to ask the question of whether the political form being built is in effect appropriate or not? Certainly this is a question that is debated amongst East Timorese2, and by some foreigners, but by and large this discourse remains marginalised through the sheer dominance of the ‘nonreflexive modernity’ of those who come to Timor-Leste to ‘help’. Furthermore, the question of control of the process is still weighted towards the expectations of the interveners who supposedly know when the local population is suitably ready for elections. Yet what is needed to understand the problem of a lack of political legitimacy, not just of governing structures but also within development and other aspects of the attempts to transform East Timorese society since 1999, is an extension of critique from an ideological category of analysis to an ontological level. To do this, it is important to very briefly outline three different categories of social integration so as to in turn show how the critiques of liberalism remain too limited in terms of finding a sustainable peace. In contrast to the typical mapping of socio-cultural difference across a modern and pre-modern axis, the argument here is for three major patterns of social integration (which are referred to as ontological formations): the customary, the traditional and the modern (James 1996 and 2006; Grenfell 2008). There are various ways in which to explain these categories, though as a very brief overview the mode of social 2 See for instance the forthcoming special edition on Timor-Leste of the journal Local Global: Identity, Security, Community on customary culture in the context of nation-formation. 210 organisation (here in the form of authority) will be used to help delineate social difference across these three forms. The ‘customary’ is taken here to mean a pattern of social integration where social order is determined by genealogy and kinship, and life is constituted in face-to-face relations. In Timor-Leste this is most often seen with the authority of the lia-na’in (literally ‘owner of the words’, one form of customary leadership) and the conflation between the living, ancestral, spirit and natural world, instantiated particularly through lulik (sacred) objects and adat (customary law). In such instances, social life is typically framed by particularity, firstly to the family through the uma lulik and adat practices, and then through mythology to an ethno-linguistic grouping. In contrast, the mode of organisation within a traditional pattern of social integration is exemplified by the sacred authority of the priest. Within the ‘traditional’, the priest is no longer given authority through a genealogical connection but rather from an extended cosmological claim to a universalised ‘god’. In this understanding, the cosmology universalises a person’s relationship to the world rather than to more immediate genealogically or kinship related groups (and by this understanding, the statue of Jesus standing on a globe in front of the Motael church in Dili would be an impossible claim to make within customary society). The ‘modern’ can be described as a system of social integration characterised by highly abstracted social relations constituted predominantly through disembodied relations (as opposed to ‘face-to-face’ relations). Social integration in this context tends to identify the scientific and the secular as sources of authority (rather than the cosmological), meaning that bureaucrats who rely on logic and officials elected on merit come to the fore in terms of social organisation. It is across the modern that we see the notion of citizenship and social contract emerge, a way of trying to hold together individuals and localised groups of people within larger and abstracted systems of governance. As the above examples of each social formation demonstrate, Timor-Leste incorporates all of these elements which layer and roughly intersect at some points, contradict and work in tension at others, and often enough seem to sit in ambiguous yet sustainable relationship with one another. 3 People and community live across these, and for instance it is possible to see how a person may engage in a modern mode of production (working in a NGO as a policy advisor), continue performing traditional ceremonies of faith (attending mass) and still engage fully in customary culture (for instance at the burial of a person). What tends to occur in daily life however is a dominance of a particular form, and no matter the differences between Dili and rural villages, the argument here is that most often the dominant pattern of social integration—the stitching that allows people to mutually understand and identify with one another— is very much located at an ethical-political level in the customary. This therefore means that East Timorese may engage across the traditional and the modern, but the basis for social orientation is very much located at the customary level: the family, the uma-lulik, the binding of mythological origin and destiny. Of course there are exceptions, and one possible grouping that could be seen as situated as neither customary nor modern in these terms could be nuns, priests and so forth who are clearly confronted by the secularism of modernity at the same time often at best cautiously respectful of the customary. In terms of those located within ontological modernity, there is an indigenous urban elite found across the spectrum of state, business and civil society in Timor-Leste. Many of these lived in exile for the duration of the Indonesian occupation and have returned post-independence to occupy elite positions, though even here their own position in relation to modernity is worth reflecting on. In many senses, the social power of this group has come about because they are in the best position to work as intermediaries between foreign workers and local communities, able to speak across the ‘divide’ and also provide the interveners with a claim to local legitimacy. 3 This schema does not seek to reify social practice, but rather to sensitize the researcher (and others) to qualitatively different patterns of social integration. Such sensitization enables an investigation of the complexity and nuances of social life rather than the reductionism that occurs when the ‘other than modern’ is either written ‘in’ or ‘out’ of consideration. 211 If it is accepted that in Timor-Leste the customary is a significant pattern of social integration, and equally that foreign workers—diplomats, youth ambassadors, aid workers, military personnel, international volunteers, UN professionals, advisors, consultants and academic researchers—are in dominance constituted at the modern, then we can see where the potential for a gap as Richmond suggest has occurred in Timor-Leste might eventuate from. In order to close this gap between a population that identifies primarily with one form of political authority while a system of governance is being built on the basis of another, Richmond suggests that it is possible to re-calibrate the production of peace by taking better account of local political cultures. The technical requirements of promoting democratization, the rule of law, civil society and development require far more than merely a technical and institutional intervention, and there is an enormous gap between conception and expectation. Achieving these objectives requires long-term commitment on the part of internationals and a deep sensitivity to the bottom-up nature of the social contract, rather than merely to its top-down requirements engendered in the panopticon regime of liberal governance (Richmond and Franks 2008, 198). Here the methods of intervention are varied, deepened, at times turned upside down, and spread out over time. However, as different as the process might be, the outcome doesn’t seem that much different. It might be more sustainable than the current state of affairs, yet it is still a “liberal project but in a hybridized form” (Richmond 2008, 198). The work of Richmond and others stand as fine contributions to understanding the ideological assumptions that underpin the broad array of practices and processes of interventions, and in more recent works there has been a shift towards a focus on the intersection of relations between the foreign and the local (and notably an emerging language of ontology). However, this is still underpinned by an expectation of a particular kind of political community emerging; A detailed understanding (rather than cooption or ‘tolerance’ of) of local culture, traditions, and ontology; and acceptance of peacebuilding as an empathetic, emancipatory process, focused on everyday care, human security, and a social contract between society and the polity, which acts as a provider of care rather than merely security (Richmond 2009, 578). Even while we are seeing a move towards a hybridized ‘post-liberal peace’, if we think on the ontological categories above (of the customary, traditional and modern) and on how Richmond is drawing together the liberal and the customary, there are several significant problems that come to the fore in trying to secure peace this way. Firstly, the notion of a hybridized peace suggests a pluralized, open and contestable space between foreigners and locals. However, the framing of the quote above places the foreign as the determining power in the process, not least as locals are being ‘understood’ to ensure an effective pathway to negotiating what appears like a preconceived result. There seems to be no right of refusal or even a radical re-orientation of that order. This kind of ‘imbalanced hybridity’ is likely to be repeated in practice in the wake of mass destruction given the disparity of the resources available to the interveners in contrast to locals. In the wake of 1999 for instance, so absolute was the devastation and so scarce local resources, it is hard to imagine how the dominant ideology of an international conglomerate of NGOs, aid agencies, and military forces could not have resulted in anything but their worldviews absolutely dominating decisions over the patterns of social transformation. Secondly, by essentially accepting the liberal character of the interveners as Richmond seems to have done, then liberalism is projected as if it is modernity per se. However, modernity could in effect bring to the fore many possibilities of which liberalism is but one example, and yet elections, and the market, constitutional republicanism and universal human rights are presented as if there are no other possibilities. At an ideological level, this narrows the prospects for other possible experiences of modernity to infuse the ‘post-liberal’ peace, such as a post-feminism or a post-Marxism. In effect, the form of modernity that the customary is to be negotiated with so as to create a hybridized peace has already been set. 212 In thinking again on the distinctions between the three patterns of social integration, namely the customary, traditional and the modern, it is possible to see that the coupling of liberalism and the customary in order to negotiate a hybridised peace presents an erroneous conflation of different analytical categories. The problem here is that liberalism is an ideology—one possible way of understanding the world from within modernity— while the ‘customary’ is an ontology, a way of being in the world. The possibility of a hybridity of this kind, and in turn of a ‘post-liberal peace’, is then forged on a false axis and where the power of the intervener is maintained in practice by not having to interrogate their own ontological foundations in the same way as a local population is. On the one hand East Timorese are being asked to transform foundational ways of being in the world in order to reach a ‘hybridized’ peace, but foreigners in effect only have to reflect at most on their ideological assumptions. Little is being asked of the intervener, as the ontological basis for that particular expression of ideology is left preserved—such as that history is progressive, that the human is rational, that the individual is pre-eminent and that secularism and logic are key to the human condition—and yet at the customary and even traditional level, these are the very ontological foundations of society that are the subject for change for the Timorese. This dynamic is key to understanding the sense of inequity held by locals with regards to foreign involvement in the intervention, one that goes well beyond a differentiated access to resources. In response to all of this, interventions need to be transformed at the level of ontological reflexivity of the intervener, an exercise that does two things. Firstly, the modernity of the foreign intervention comes to be contextualised rather than taken as being the natural and appropriate position that all of reality should ascribe to. And within that, it sensitizes the participant to the way modernity can take multiple forms, not just that of liberalism. Secondly, and importantly, it allows for different social systems to be examined in effect on a par—argued for here as being the customary, traditional and the modern— and seeing them for their differences without the intervener having to enforce them. The likelihood of a hybridized version of peace (or development, security or governance for that matter) is unlikely to be anything more than exceptional until there is a shift in the culture of power by those undertaking the intervention. What is the guarantee that working ethnographically, or in slow discourse, or over a long-time will actually create meaningful difference if there is no reflection back onto how ‘being in the world’ can be so fundamentally different for the intervener? If a foreign worker sees their own modernity as the natural state of being human then they will continue to be bewildered as to why their projects, programs and strategies are sometimes contested or met with indifference. ‘Muddling through’ in effect is good statement, it suggests people in constant negotiation, tension and recreation. However, this can’t be done between liberal and nonliberal categories of understanding, as to do so is to only treat the ‘other’ from within modernity which, simply put, is not enough. Bibliography Bellamy, Alex and Paul Williams 2008, ‘Introduction: Thinking Anew about Peace Operations’, in Bellamy, A.and P.Williams (eds) Peace Operations and Global Order, London, Routledge. Chandler, David 2010, International Statebuilding: the Rise of Post-Liberal Governance, Routledge, Oxon. Duffield, Mark 2001, Global Governance and the New Wars: The Merging of Development and Security, Polity Press, Cambridge. Duffiled, Mark 2007, Development, Security and Unending War: Governing the World of Peoples, Polity, Cambridge. Grenfell, Damian 2008, 'Governance, Violence and Crises in Timor-Leste: Estadu Seidauk Mai', in S. Farram (et al), Democratic Governance in Timor-Leste: Reconciling the Local and the National, Charles Darwin University, pp. 85 - 97. Humphrey, Michael 2009, ‘New Wars and the Therapeutic Paradigm’, in Grenfell, D. and James, P. (eds) Rethinking Insecurity, War and Violence: Beyond Savage Globalisation?, Routledge, Oxon, pp. 59-70. James, Paul 1996, Nation Formation: Towards a Theory of Abstract Community, Sage, London. --- 2006, Globalism, Nationalism Tribalism: Bringing Theory Back In, Sage Publications, London. Paris, Roland 2004, At War's End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict, University of Colorado, Boulder. Richmond, Oliver P. 2004, ‘The Globalization of Responses to Conflict and the Peacebuilding Consensus’, Cooperation and Conflict,39: 129. 213 Richmond, Oliver P. and Franks, Jason 2008a, 'Liberal Peacebuilding in Timor Leste: The Emperor's New Clothes?', International Peacekeeping, 15(2): 185-200. --- 2008b, Peace in International Relations, Routledge, New York. Richmond, Oliver P. 2009, ‘A post-liberal peace: Eirenism and the Everyday’, Review of International Studies, 35: 557–580. --- 2011, ‘De-romanticising the local, de-mystifying the international: Hybridity in TimorLeste and the Solomon Islands’, The Pacific Review, 24(1): 115-136. 214 32 Gender Issues in Timor-Leste and the Pacific Islands: ‘Practical Needs’ and ‘Strategic Interests’ revisited Helen M. Hill Of all the changes that took place during the twenty-four years of Indonesian occupation of Timor-Leste one of the most remarkable has been the changing roles of women and changing gender relations, Global observers of gender relationships in Timor-Leste are always surprised to see that women in Timor-Leste are more numerous in the Parliament and in the Council of Ministers than in most countries of the world while those Pacific island states colonized by the British still struggle to get one or two women into their Parliament. After independence in 2002 Timorese women did not have to wait long, before their Government signed and ratified the Convention for the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) without reservations, while Pacific island women in many countries waited decades, despite most Pacific island countries having sent large, high level delegations to all the UN Women’s conferences. Women’s rights in the Constitution in Timor-Leste are among the best in the world. The Constitution of Timor-Leste, negotiated in 2002 by the Constituent Assembly, with strong advocacy from the women’s movement declares, Direct and active participation by men and women in political life is a requirement of, and a fundamental instrument for consolidating, the democratic system. - The law shall promote equality in the exercise of civil and political rights and non-discrimination on the basis of gender for access to political positions (Constitution Section 63). Principles of gender equity were incorporated into the 2002-2007 National Development Plan (Timor-Leste Planning Commission 2002b, 110) and Strategic Development Plan of 2011 contains an objective of gender equality which covers a number of portfolios (Timor-Leste, Strategic Development Plan 2011, 49-51). However a statistical examination of the realities of life for most Timorese women reveals that they are much more likely to die in childbirth, are much more likely to be illiterate than their sisters in the Pacific islands, and Timorese girls likelihood of completing secondary education is very much lower than in Fiji, Samoa, Tonga or even PNG. And in most Timorese villages most women still cook over open fires, and live in communities with very few toilets, which has not been the case in Pacific countries for a couple of decades. This paper attempts to explain this contradiction by reference to the approach of Carolyn Moser, now used by many gender and development analysts (Moser 1993). Moser distinguishes women’s practical needs from women’s strategic needs. For example women’s practical needs are for nutritious food, clothing, housing, access to medical services and basic education. If all these are provided women’s condition of life can certainly improve to a great extent and many traditional aid donors focus on these needs. However women’s disadvantageous situation in almost all societies on earth will still be perpetuated vis-à-vis men unless attention is paid also to their strategic needs. These include education, access to livelihoods and their own income, a voice in politics, assistance with early childhood care, freedom from violence, the right to control their own fertility and other means whereby they can have the time, fitness, energy and capacity for empowerment to change their situation (Moser 1993; Taylor, Singh and Vulaono 1995, 28-9). Moser also divides women’s (and men’s) roles into three distinctive spheres, reproductive, productive and community work (Moser 1993, 27-28). In pre-colonial times in Timor women and men each had their specific tasks to contribute to the economy and the reproduction of the next generation. Women’s reproductive role (giving birth, child rearing, early childhood education and providing for the needs of the next generation) is often seen as their most important role yet traditionally women also played a major role in production, growing food, and making tais, and other handicrafts (small manufacturing). Men’s 215 productive work included building houses and care for animals. Both men and women engage in community work during religious and cultural ceremonies and other work for the good of the community as a whole beyond the family, including politics. Female Subsistence Tasks Harvesting rice Husking, threshing of rice Sorting coffee beans Care of chickens, pigs, goats Planting, weeding and harvesting gardens Fishing with small nets Carry water on head Food preparation and presentation, cooking Spinning, weaving, dressmaking Child-care Tasks to augment family income Making jewellery from beads, seeds Making pottery, baskets, mats for sale or barter Baking cakes and sweets for sale Selling betel nuts Processing of coconut flesh for sale to Chinese for soap making Making of presents for ritual exchange Male Harvesting corn, coffee Slaughtering animals Building and maintenance Care of buffalo, horses Clearing land, ploughing Fishing with large nets Carry water over shoulders Hunting Chopping wood, all digging Tasks involving climbing Selling horses and buffalo Cockfighting, gambling Woodcarving Silver and Goldsmithing From Thatcher (1989, 106-107) Gender-based Division of Labour in Timor during the Portuguese era The traditional gender division of labour between women in eastern Timor was strikingly similar to that in most Melanesian societies, as illustrated by the table above from research by Patsy Thatcher (1989). As in Melanesia, Timorese women traditionally made a major contribution to food growing, preservation, storage and preparation both for the family and for exchange. In addition, clothes, jewellery and many manufactured items of value, such as textiles, were produced by women (Ironmonger and Hill 1998, 1012). Differences between Timor-Leste and the Pacific islands colonized by the British stem from differences in their colonial history. In colonial and development assistance thinking it has generally been assumed that women’s practical needs would be achieved first, laying a basis for achievement of strategic needs, Timor-Leste appears to defy this trend, have done well on strategic needs while still lagging behind similar countries on practical needs. The explanation for this lies partly in Timor-Leste’s very particular history; and relates to how class formation has proceeded. Portuguese businesses and corporatist associations were mainly interested in the work of Timorese men, not women. Men were to some extent integrated in the cash economy when they were required to do work on plantations, roads or mines. In Timor, as in the Pacific islands, the concept of ‘housework’ was introduced through the agency of missions, who equated the Christian gospel with a particular type of family and a gender division of labour which was different to that which traditionally existed. The island of Timor was one of the first areas in the Asian or Pacific region to be colonised from Europe, at a time when Portugal was still a semi-feudal society itself. The Pacific islands, on the other hand, were among the last regions in the world to come under colonial rule at a time when the industrial revolution in Europe and the growth of factories had already brought about the separation of the home and the workplace, and with this the ‘breadwinner’ /‘homemaker’ gendered roles. With this change came an ideology which said that what women were doing was not work, they ‘just stayed home’, this, argues Nancy Pollock was very significant in undermining traditional gender roles (Pollock 1989). 216 As ‘work’ (paid work) was only for men, another form of work ‘housework’ was evolved to describe the unpaid work of women (Pollock 1989). Housework is largely reproductive work as it involves child-rearing and providing for their needs, but in a subsistence economy a great deal of it is also productive work and involves food growing and marketing of surplus. Men also engage in reproductive work in teaching male children their roles in life, including productive roles. Another contrast between the Pacific Islands and Portuguese Timor is that Timor was colonized by a Catholic power with a close relationship between Church and State and an assimilationist philosophy of colonisation which insisted on all education being in the colonial language (Hill 2002, 34-5). The Pacific Islands were mainly colonised by secular governments where churches, including the Catholic Church, competed with each other for converts, or in some cases carved up territory between them. In these islands, and the state allowed, even promoted, indigenous languages, and the missionaries, both male and female learned local languages in order to teach Pacific island men and women to read the Bible (Jolly 1991). It was missionaries who introduced the ‘Breadwinner’/’Homemaker’ gender roles, and it was largely wives of Protestant clergy (female missionaries) who set up women’s clubs at village level in Fiji, Samoa, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and elsewhere to teach skills of housework including western-style cookery, fruit bottling, jam making, dressmaking, singing, reading and other ‘accomplishments’ to imbue men with the European middle-class ideal of having a wife who did not work (Lee 1985; Scheyvens 2003). But it was independent Pacific island governments who took up these initiatives with enthusiasm at independence and established ‘women’s interests’ offices to train the leadership of the women’s clubs in the belief that women needed to be taught the skills of ‘modern’ housework (Norris 1968, 100; Vatnabar 2003, 270; Pollard 2003, 48) so that they would not ‘hold back’ their husbands’ thinking, which was the gender assumption of the ‘modernization’ school of development in the ascendency at the time (Hill 1987, 342). Training for leadership for these clubs became institutionalised at the regional level with the establishment in Suva in 1963 of the Community Education Training Centre (CETC) by the South Pacific Commission, to teach these skills. This institution is still active today although its focus has been broadened considerably (Norris 1968, 99; Schoeffel 1989, SPC website). Much earlier, and in a different manner, women’s opportunities in Portuguese Timor were expanded by the establishment in 1902 of an academic school for girls in Ainaro by the Canossian Sisters who arrived from Italy in 1879, - the school was closed down after 7 years due to anti-clericalism in Portugal but reopened in1923 - (Hill 2002, 36; Cristalis and Scott 2005, 24). No country of the British colonized Pacific had anything like it until Adi Cakobau school for girls in Fiji became a fully fledged secondary school in 1954 (Campbell and Sherington 2007, 103). The Canossians’ school not only provided formal academic education for generations of Timorese women but also provided teachers for many other schools under the concordata between the Catholic Church and the Portuguese government.1 Nevertheless access to education was still more a matter of class than of gender and daughters of Europeans, mestiços and assimilados2 had greater access to educational opportunities than the sons of rural village people, and certainly poor village girls rarely had such opportunities. While the Canossian and Salesian Sisters created opportunities for some women to gain a good quality secondary education in Portuguese, it was FRETILIN which first advocated equality of women and men in its policies. This was due to the influence of the young women who had been studying in Portugal in the early 1970s, the three female members of the FRETILIN Central Committee: Rosa ‘Muki’ Bonaparte, Maria do Ceu and Guilhermina Araujo (Cristalis and Scott 2005, 27). Large numbers of illiterate women flocked to FRETILIN’s literacy classes, held, for the first time in a Timorese language, Tetum (Hill 2002; Bassaweran 2005; Durnan, 2006;). A women’s organization within FRETILIN, the OPMT (Organização Popular de Mulheres de Timor – Popular Organization of Timorese Women) was founded on 28th August 1975 by Rosa 1 A Concordatat was signed between Portugal and the Vatican in 1940 making the church predominantly responsible for education in the colonies (Smyth 2004, 35) 2 Assimilados were Timorese who were assimilated into the Portuguese culture, spoke Portuguese, were baptized as Catholics and entitled to be Portuguese citizens (Hill 2002). 217 ‘Muki’Bonaparte, Isabel Lobato and others (Jolliffe 1978, 162; Hill 2002, 159-60; Fernandes-Alves et al 2006, 7-13). The founders of OPMT were also among the first to make a criticism of the traditional arranged marriage and brideprice, the barlaque which was felt by many female Timorese to transform women into an object for sale (Bonaparte 1974). OPMT became a mass organization, with over 7,000 members and branches down to the aldea level, the closest organization in Timor to the mass women’s organizations in the Pacific islands. Following the invasion in December 1975 (during which Rosa ‘Muki’ Bonaparte and other OPMT founders were killed) the Indonesian occupation massively transformed the role of East Timorese women. While the Indonesian government purported to support the rights of women with commemoration of Kartini Day. 3 It was at the same time using rape as a weapon of war (CAVR 2003). The regime also introduced two official Indonesian women’s organization, Dharma Wanita (DW) and Pembinaan Kesejahahteraan Keluargo (PKK) or Family Welfare Movement into its ‘27th Province’. The close relationship of these organizations to the army meant that few Timorese women were interested in them (Buchori & Soenarto 2000, 141). The PKK was, in many ways, similar to the Pacific Islands CETC and could have been useful in addressing many of rural women’s practical needs, but according to Carla Bianpoen, appears to have been almost totally without benefit to the women of East Timor due to its close relationship with ruling party Golkar and the Army (Bianpoen 2000, 169). Numbers of women were actively involved in the armed resistance as combatants with FALINTIL, this included women such as Bilesse, pictured in FALINTIL uniform on the cover of Irena Cristalis and Catherine Scott’s book (2005). Maria Braz explained the role of women behind the combat lines told Emma Franks in 1994, they are an important element of support to the guerrillas – preparing combat rations, preparing uniforms and providing other accessories; [they have to be] the mother of the family and moral support for the guerrilla fighters; teach and prepare the new generation culturally. They have also taken up arms to fight the Indonesian occupation force. In the underground resistance, the woman is a better informer in the mountain, determined to get information to different outlets (Franks 1996, 162). The year of the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, 1975, was also International Women’s Year and the first year of the UN Decade for Women. It was the year of the first UN Conference on Women in Mexico City, which led to the adoption of the UN Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) and the establishment of UNIFEM, the United Nations Development Fund for Women. The subsequent UN Women’s Conference in Nairobi ten years later was a key event for Timorese women in the diaspora. In August 1985 - three Timorese women in the diaspora Emilia Pires, Inés Almeida and Mimi Fereira took part in the NGO Forum that preceded the official UN Conference. As one of the NGO delegates to Nairobi myself, I observed that many delegates who knew nothing about Timor were astounded and angry to find out about the level of violence going on in East Timor, of which they had not been aware. They gained a great deal of support and solidarity from Pacific Island women and learnt a lot about the international system, leading to their and other Timorese women’s greater participation in many types of regional conferences (Pires 1986; Almeida 1996; Bernardino 1996). Ten years later in September 1995 at the UN’s Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing, six Timorese women:- Inés Almeida, Ceu Brites, Benilda Brites, Maria Odette Goncalves, Milena Pires and Fernanda Varudo organized workshops at the NGO Forum. Again I observed the Timorese women, far more experienced, and Timor much better known internationally, particularly since the Santa Cruz massacre. They found a great deal of support from Pacific Island women and members of the Indonesian women’s movement (Brites 1998). By the early 1990s, Timorese women studying in Indonesia or at the University of East Timor were becoming active in clandestine nationalist politics. In the late 1990s three key organizations were formed 3 In commemoration of Raden Kartini, a leading female Indonesian leader during the colonial period, who was dedicated to education and improving the access of girls to education. She became widely known through her writings, which described the anguish of being a woman, even in an upper class household in Indonesia in the 1940s. 218 by women living in Dili. On 15th July 1997, FOKUPERS (Forum Komunikasi Perempuan Timor Lorosa’e – East Timor Women’s Communication Forum) was launched to communicate the views of women, on political torture, rape, and on the policies being conducted by the Indonesian army (Aditjondro 2001, 21; Retboll 2002, 19). In July 1998 the women’s wing of the Student Solidarity Council at the University of East Timor became a separate organization (Grupo Feto Foin Timor Loro Sae) GFFTL (Cristalis and Scott 2005, 49-50). ETWave (East Timor Women against Violence) was established in 1998 by Olandina Caeiro to campaign against violence against women and children (Vijaya 2005, 16-17, 107). At the East Timorese National Convention in the diaspora at Perniche, Portugal, in April 1998, where the CNRM became the CNRT (Conselho Nacional da Resistancia Timorense – National Council of Timorese Resistance) a charter (Magna Carta) of the freedoms, rights, duties and guarantees for the People of East Timor was adopted. Among other things it asserted that all international norms concerning the rights of women to equal treatment shall be adopted and upheld, and advocated support for CEDAW after independence. It was largely Mari Alkatiri and Ana Pessoa of FRETILIN who prepared the documents for this conference and who persuaded the others to support it (CNRT 1998; Cabral 2002, 290). The introduction of the CNRT also meant that OPMT submerged its party identity in the broader women’s organization Organisacão de Mulheres de Timor (OMT), in effect the women’s wing of the CNRT which included members of all parties and no party (Cristalis and Scott 2005, 47-8). At its height the OMT had 70,000 members and 3000 local committees at the aldea level, many of which were former OPMT branches (de Fatima 2002). They played a key role in educating people for the ballot for independence in 1999. The high voter turnout (98.6%) in the referendum of August 30th 1999 was a real victory for Timorese women, as they were expected to be the ones who would be more likely to stay at home. From a situation where almost no women took part in politics under the Portuguese to one where almost everyone, male and female, old and young, risked safety to vote 24 years later was indication of a tremendous change, even among the most isolated and uneducated Timorese women. After the ballot Timorese women retained their strategic sense leant in the struggle. At a National Women's Congress in June 2000 in Becora more than 500 women from all districts and the diaspora produced a Platform for Action highlighting issues such as women’s access to education, health, and violence against women. It urged a minimum of 30% female representation in public employment and decision-making and called for a public awareness campaign on violence against women. Like the OPMT founders, twenty five years earlier they also raised the issue of ‘barlaque’, which they saw as a significant factor perpetuating unequal gender relations within the family and legitimising domestic violence (ETDA 2000). The Women’s Conference also gave rise to the Women’s Network REDE Feto, largely made up of advocacy organizations who continued to campaign throughout the writing of the constitution and the first development plan. OPMT is the closest organization in Timor-Leste to the Pacific-style mass membership women’s associations which bring together rural subsistence producers and educated women. It is not surprising it has continued to be involved with adult literacy training for using empowerment methods based on Paulo Freire’s ideas. One of their conclusions, however, was that women would be more interested in learning to read and write if it was associated with learning other skills rather than just being a literacy course (Victorino Soriano et al. 2004, 34). In Vanuatu, the rural women’s literacy program of the Presbyterian Women’s Missionary Union (PWMU) in Vanuatu, has seen its role not just as a literacy program, but as promoting skills in food growing, adding value, marketing, dressmaking and general village improvement, in other words, skills meeting women’s practical needs (Netine 2000). Perhaps more of this is needed in Timor-Leste’s literacy programs. The story of how Timorese women’s organizations were able to work together with UNTAETs Gender Affairs Unit (GAU) and Transitional Administrator Sergio Vieira de Mello to reach the amazing level of 27% women elected to the Constituent Assembly, despite the absence of a formal quota, is now well known (Pires 1999, 2002). A civil society working group on Women and the Constitution, then presented a Women’s Charter of Rights in East Timor supported by ten thousand signatures from all over the country to Members of the Constituent Assembly while they drafted the constitution (La’o Hamutuk 219 Bulletin 2001, 2; Retboll 2002, 27-8; Durnan 2006). Most of the demands of the women’s charter were met, with the exception of those which came under the category of ‘Tradition and Women’s Rights’ (Joshi 2005: 149-50). Despite its success in getting women into Parliament, Timor-Leste, still has the highest maternal mortality and infant mortality in the region, still the highest percentage of illiterate adults and malnutrition is at epidemic proportions. In the Pacific a debate has been raging since the 1970s, over the traditional colonialist practice of teaching women in women’s clubs the skills of baking European-style cakes, scones, and embroidering pillow-cases as if they were ladies of leisure with nothing better to do with their time (in keeping with the lower middle class aspiration of colonial times in Europe of having a wife who ‘didn’t work’). While some Pacific women have argued that such training “domesticated” women into accepting a subordinate role in decision-making and ignoring their rights (Slatter 1983), others argued it taught them useful skills which could later, after independence be used for setting up small businesses such as in dressmaking, entering the catering industry, becoming a home economics teacher or university lecturer or even a consultant on women in development (Schoeffel 1983). However even the Pacific island feminists praised the work these women’s clubs did in health, particularly in Samoa where the women’s committees promoted breast feeding, child health monitoring and brought infant and child mortality the lowest in the region (Thomas 1986). When junk food and the promotion of breast milk substitutes become a threat to good health in the Pacific islands, it was these same women’s organisations that became the basis for the revival of traditional foods and home gardens, the study of nutrition and the promotion of new recipes for cooking local fruits and vegetables and the promotion of breastfeeding (Parkinson and Lambert 1982; Jones 1992; SPC 2001). Long before the emergence of the environmental movement Pacific women, with the support of Ministries of Energy pioneered smokeless stoves and village ovens which required very little fuel and addressed the issue of upper respiratory tract infection caused by cooking over open fires (Siwatibau 1981, 94; Lechte 1994). The University of the South Pacific established a Department of Home Economics in its Faculty of Education, not only to train home economics teachers but also to do research on Pacific Island foods, food preservation, storage, cooking and nutrition in collaboration with civil society organizations, government departments and the health system. In Melanesian countries, the YWCA played a key role in helping young women set up their own groups to learn skills needed to improve the quality of life in villages (Goodwillie and Lechte 1985). In Timor-Leste, the Indonesian occupation undermined the traditional agricultural system and many traditional skills were lost. Large numbers of Indonesian transmigrants were brought in to teach Timorese how to grow irrigated rice. The Indonesian government established a Home Economics training centre in Becora, but at independence it was transformed into a technical training centre. What had been a predominantly female educational institution and thus almost invisible, dropped out of existence completely, thus endangering food knowledge and skills in the whole country. This event follows the predictions of US anthropologist Margaret Mead who back in 1976 warned against the Euro-American habit of giving responsibility with food before it leaves the farm to men (agriculture) and after it leaves the farm to women (home economics), and giving them two different sets of training. She warned ‘what goes to the women will be low in status and eventually might disappear unless careful policies are followed’ (Mead 1976). While home economics and food technology in Timor-Leste has already almost disappeared from educational institutions, there is also a danger that agriculture will disappear too, as young people walk off farms to get education that will not lead to productive work. Women’s practical needs are more important than ever and in fact they are everyone’s practical needs. Many jobs could be created by building an internal food market instead of importing rice from overseas. And many lives could be saved and prolonged by attention to rural environment and quality of food and cuisine. Some Timorese women, and indeed men, have shown leadership on practical needs, but it is more often the preserve of BINGOs and other ‘agency’ type organizations. Sister Maria Lourdes Martins (Mana Lu) in 1989 set up an organization called Instituto Secular Maun Alia Iha Christo (ISMAIK) – (Secular Institute of Brothers and Sisters in Christ) which works more directly with the poor, rather than for them, spending a great deal of time in rural areas (Rogers 2002). Maria Dias of PAS Clinic, has also great 220 experience of organizing local women’s groups teaching them practical needs and production of local products (Conway 2009). The Alola Foundation’s breastfeeding mothers’ program established support groups to address the issue of women’s lack of knowledge on food and nutritional issues by teaching courses on these issues for nursing mothers is another (Alola 2002). Members of Permaculture Timor-Leste (Permatil) have long been aware of the need to develop good practice in the field of household cooking, developing alternative cooking fuels and stoves, rainwater harvesting and making the home garden more efficient to reduce the workload of women and build composting toilets to reduce disease (Lemos & McKenzie 2005: 30, 74,322-27). Another Timorese NGO, HIAM Health, has done a great deal to popularise Permaculture as an aid to addressing malnutrition albeit using a somewhat medical model rather than an educational and communications model (Hillary 2011). Most countries achieve women’s practical needs before achieving the high levels of political power for women which Timor-Leste has done. The question is now whether the current generation of female leaders, many of whom are in powerful positions, can learn from their own history, including from their mothers and grandmothers, the history of neighbouring countries, including their colonial experiences, and identify ways of addressing women’s practical needs that will bring rural and poor women into the political and educational opportunities which they themselves have enjoyed. Such policies would truly address the whole community’s practical needs in the coming decades. Bibliography Almeida, Inés 1996,‘The Role of Women in the Struggle’, in Its Time to Lead the Way’, East Timor Relief Association, Melbourne. Alola Foundation 2002, Evaluation of Breastfeeding Mothers Support Groups, Dili Bassarewan, Aicha 2005, ‘Literacy Courses from 1974-1975’, in Jorge da Silveira Guterres (ed), First National Literacy Conference in Timor-Leste: 15th September 2004, Oxfam , Dili. 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Lee, Wendy 1985, ‘Women's Groups in Papua New Guinea: Shedding the Legacy of Drop Scones and Embroidered Pillowcases’, Community Development Journal, ( 20)3: 222-236. Lemos, Eugenio and Lachlan McKenzie 2005, A Permaculture Manual from East Timor, Permatil, Dili. Mead, Margaret 1976, ‘A Comment on the Role of Women in Agriculture’ in Tinker, Irene, Michele Bo Bramsen, and Mayra Buvinic, Women and World Development, Praeger, New York, 9-11. Mohiden, Reihana 2005, Gender and Nation Building in Timor-Leste: Country Gender Assessment, Asian Development Bank, Manila, UNIFEM, Bangkok. Moder, Carolyn 1993, Gender Planning and Development Theory, Practice and Training, Routledge, London. Norris, Ada 1968,’ Women's Political Participation in the South Pacific’, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 375:96-101 Parkinson, Susan and Julian Lambert 1982, The New South Pacific Handbook of Nutrition, National Food and Nutrition Committee, Suva, Fiji and Secretariat of the Pacific Community, Noumea. Pires Emilia 1986, ‘Timor: genocide, cultural destruction and the anguish of seeing children starve’, in Clark, Jennie, Weaving New Patterns: women’s struggle for change in Asia and the Pacific, World Student Christian Federation, Hong Kong. Pires, Milena 1999, ‘Towards a Gendered Approach to Post-Conflict Reconstruction and Development’, A paper presented at the Melbourne Conference on a Strategic Development Plan for East Timor’, Victoria University; --- 2002, ‘East Timor and the Debate on Quotas’, paper presented to the Jakarta Conference on The Implementation of Quotas: the Asian Experience, International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, Stockholm. http://www.idea.int/publications/quotas_asian/index.cfm Pollard, Alice Aruhe'eta 2003, ‘Women's Organizations, Voluntarism, and Self- Financing in Solomon Islands: a Participant Perspective’: Oceania, 74(1/2). Pollock, Nancy 1989, ‘The Early Development of Housekeeping and Imports in Fiji’, Pacific Studies, (12)2::53-82. Retboll, Torben 2002, ‘The Women of East Timor’ in Jonnson, Gabriel, East Timor: Nation-building in the 21st Century, Centre for Pacific Asia Studies, Stockholm University, Stockholm, pp. 11-32. Rogers, Benedict 2002, The Secular Institute of Brothers and Sisters in Christ (Instituto Secular Maun Alin Iha 222 Kristo –ISMAIK - An Introduction to their Ministry to the Poor in East Timor, Christian Solidarity Worldwide, Hong Kong. Schoeffel, Penelope 1989, ‘The Rice-Pudding Syndrome: Women’s Advancement and Home Economics Training in the South Pacific’, in Development in the Pacific: What Women Say, Development Dossier 18, Australian Council for Overseas Aid, Canberra. Schoeffel-Meleisa, Penelope, ‘Women and Political Leaders in the Pacific Islands,’ in Suffrage and Beyond: International Feminist Perspectives: 107–23. Scheyvens, Regina 2003, ‘Church Women's Groups and the Empowerment of Women in Solomon Islands’. Oceania, 74 (1/2). Siwatibau, Suliana 1981, Rural Energy in Fiji: A Survey of Domestic Energy Uses, International Development Research Centre, Ottawa. Slatter, Claire 1983, ‘An Evaluation of the South Pacific Commission Community Education Training Programme’, SPC, Suva/Noumea. Smyth, Patrick A. 2004, ‘The Heaviest Blow’ – the Catholic Church and the East Timor Issue, Lit, Verlag, Munster (Germany). SPC, Community Education Training Centre, Suva, http://www.spc.int/cetc/ (Secretariat of the Pacific Community) ---2001, The Fruits we Eat, Secretariat of the Pacific Community, Noumea. Taylor, Laufitu, Debbie Singh and Tauga Vulaono 1995, Developing Partnerships: A Training Manual for Gender Advocacy for Community Workers in Pacific Island Countries, UNIFEM/UNDP, Suva. Thomas, Pamela 1986, ‘Women and Development - A Two Edged Sword’ in Lee, Lynn, Development in the Pacific: What Women Say, Development Dossier 18, Australian Council for Overseas Aid, Canberra. Vatnabar, Margaret G, 2003, ‘Gender and Development in Papua New Guinea’,in Kavanamur, David, Charles Yala and Quinton Clements, Building a Nation in Papua New Guinea, Pandanus Books, ANU, Canberra, pp. 269-82. Victorino-Soriano, Cecilia, Jose Gonzaga, et al. 2004, Obstacles to the Effective Participation of Women in Adult Education Program: Focus on Social-Cultural Factors, Oxfam GB, Dili. Whittington, Sherrill 2003, ‘Gender and Peacekeeping: The United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor’ Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 28(4): 1283-1288. 223 33 Mari Alkatiri: Islamic Identity and legitimacy in Timorese (inter-)National Politics Melissa Johnston1 Mari Alkatiri’s membership of Timor Leste’s small but long-established Hadhrami Arab minority was either a non-issue or moderately helpful most of his life. It was in post-Independent Timor Leste that Alkatiri’s Muslim identity played a more significant role in his political career. He had returned to a profoundly more Catholic Timor Leste in 1999. Since the invasion in 1974, Indonesian government policy insisted on its populations identifying themselves with a major religion. Most Timorese chose Catholicism; Carey reports the number of Catholics in Timor Leste officially rose from 29 per cent in 1974 to nearly 90 per cent in 1999 (Carey 1999, 86). The Catholic Church had provided succour and a solidarity network for the independence movement during the horror of occupation. In 2005, after an argument over the Alkatiri government’s attempt to remove compulsory religious education in schools, the Catholic Church in East Timor organised a two-week long demonstration at which people called for Alkatiri’s resignation as Prime Minster. The article examines the interaction of Islamic religious identity and Timorese (inter)national politics through the examination of three phenomena: aspects of Alkatiri’s biography, Alkatiri’s identity as represented in Australian media in 2005-6 and in the 2005 Church demonstrations. The article supports Hughes’ argument that in the lead up to his resignation as Prime Minister, ‘the dispute with the Church dealt a blow to Alkatiri personally, from which he never recovered’ (2009, 192). Alkatiri’s religious identity meant he could not garner support from younger Timorese for whom the Church had, ‘become a crucial reference point for the new student-led independence movement from 1985 onwards’, (Carey 1999, 86). Further, the article argues Alkatiri could not claim legitimacy with these group during the Church’s test of its power within the State because of new aspects of Timorese nationalism influenced by New Order Indonesian policies (Hughes 2009, 194). The clandestine movements’ political imaginary had changed from the foundational socialism of the early Timorese nation becoming more conservative and religious. Both factors worked to preclude Muslim and socialist Alkatiri’s inclusion in, and leadership of, some sections of the new Timorese solidarity community. It also hindered his legitimacy with the public crucially in the power struggle with Xanana Gusmao that followed in 2006, after which Alkatiri left office. In examining the tumultuous period of the Church demonstrations, we cannot only consider internal developments. The Australian media were especially influential in creating a particular image of Alkatiri that reflected back into the Timorese political scene. In looking for simple and convenient representations of complex Timorese politics, Australian media drew negative images into the Australian and Timorese public spheres during the 2005 Church demonstrations. I posit that this had an effect in providing an identity label on which Australian publics could “hang their hat on”. Their contrasting of Alkatiri’s Muslim identity with a Timorese Catholic identity influenced debates about Alkatiri and intervention in Australia. I argue negative identity labelling of Alkatiri was reflected into the Timorese public sphere. Kelly da Silva (2008), David Hicks (2011) and Alynna Lyon (2011) have discussed some aspects of Alkatiri’s dispute with the Church in 2005 as crucial in changing the relationship between Church and State in Timor Leste. I pursue a different angle in this article and use Alkatiri’s identity as a Leitmotiv, which allows me to shed light on two instances when people opposed to Alkatiri used religious identity to add weight to their arguments. In our interview, he suggested that the role of the Catholic Church in the Timorese State was atypical of Catholic Church state relations generally and more characteristic of Islamic states, a statement supported by Lyon’s research into the role of the Catholic Church in the State (2011, 7). 1 Doctoral Candidate, Faculty of Social and Cultural Anthropology (KSA), University of Vienna, Austria. 224 FRETILIN supporter Zelia Fernandes said, ‘Alkatiri being Muslim is not a good argument’,2 and that religious identity was used to discredit him because his opponents had no real other arguments. Real argument or not, opposition groups often cited Alkatiri's religious identity in 2005-6, both during the Church demonstrations and in Australian media reporting. For this reason, I examine Alkatiri’s Islamic identity as part of the complex political relations of the period, in order to complement the extensive literature covering Church-State relations and the 2006 crisis. In 2011, Alkatiri and his supporters in FRETILIN said their relations with the Church were much better. It remains to be seen whether Alkatiri’s appeal for legitimacy will overcome residual denotative and negative views of his Islamic identity in the eyes of national and international publics in the 2012 parliamentary elections. Hadhrami Trade and Settlement in Southeast Asia Since medieval times, traders and religious teachers from the Hadhramaut, a region in the southern part of the Arabian Peninsula, travelled with the monsoons throughout the Indian Ocean. They then formed diasporic communities and alliances Eastern Africa, India and the Southeast Asian archipelago. According to Ulrike Freitag, the break-down of security and social order in the Hadhramaut in the 19th century as well as advancements in transportation, such as steam shipping, led to greater migration flows to the Indian Ocean littoral, where Hadhrami had settled and traded in the preceding centuries (Clarence-Smith & Freitag 1997). They had also set up schools that taught Islamic and secular subjects (Mobini-Kesheh 1999, 327). Hadhrami were important to trade, religion and the courts of Southeast Asia and were influential in the Islamization of the region. It has been difficult to establish from the available literature when the first Hadhrami Muslims arrived on Timor Leste. According to some sources, people on the island of Timor recognised the sovereignty of the Islamic Ternate Sultanate in the Moluccas, in the 16th century, suggesting regular relations. The island of Banda to the north of Timor and the only source of nutmeg and mace for many centuries probably had Muslim settlements before the Portuguese arrived. Tomes Pires wrote in 1512 that the people of Banda ‘began to be Moors’ only since the 1480s’, supporting the idea of Muslim communities on Timor predating colonialism. (Lape 2000, 145). Alkatiri confirmed there was a Muslim trading presence on Timor in the 19th century. They have only ever numbered a few hundred, and there are approximately 2,400 Muslims living in East Timor now, 600 of which are Hadhrami. Haegerdal tells us, ‘there was a degree of movement between Alor, Atauro and Timor’ (2010). Inter-island movement possibly brought with it Muslims from the island of Alor. The toponym Kampung Alor seems to support the thesis of inter-island settlement by Muslim communities. Kampung Alor is the suburb in central west Dili where Hadhrami and other Muslims live. It fronts the sea to the north, the Comoro River to the west, and the Farol quarter borders it to the east. According to Lisbon Technical University’s ‘The History of Timor’, widely quoted in Wikipedia, but with no named author, the Hadhrami established a community in Kampung Alor from the nineteenth century onwards. Until the 1970s, the Hadhrami community of Kampung Alor grew rice and fished. Some Hadhrami men gained positions of high regard within the Portuguese administration, becoming Chefe de Post—head of the subdistrict. During the Second World War, some members of the Arab community in Kampong Alor took over local political posts from the Liurai (kings) and cooperated with the Japanese occupation forces. After the military revolution overthrowing Salazar’s successor Caetano in Portugal in 1974 and the moves towards decolonisation of Timor, some people within the Arab community in Dili supported the political party Apodeti and integration with Indonesia. Others supported the nascent independence movement. One of these people was Mari Alkatiri. 2 Fernandes, Z. 2011, Interview with author, Dili, Timor Leste, July 8 225 Alkatiri’s Bibliography Alkatiri opened the interview by stating that both his paternal grandfathers came to Timor directly from the Hadhramaut in Yemen, ‘almost 200 years ago’. Like many Hadhrami families, his grandmothers were locals. His paternal grandmother, ‘is from Maubara and my father’s [grandmother] is from Venilale’.3 Hadhrami men are allowed to marry outside the community but women generally do not (Alatas 2010). Alkatiri himself is married to a Catholic woman4. Although his grandfathers had come as traders, they later became agriculturalists. Alkatiri said they were pushed out of trade in Timor because of growing Chinese control of that sphere. Mari bim Amude Alkatiri was born on the 26th of November 1949 and grew up in Kampung Alor near Dili. Alkatiri acknowledged his family’s religion set them apart. As a third generation Timorese they are, ‘gradually being integrated into society. Although the religious identity is really different […] I am still a Muslim. And that’s the reason why my education was a Muslim education. Before going to the official school, I was educated in a Madrasa’. The Madrasa is in Fatuhada, Kampung Alor, and attached to the mosque, Masjid An-Nur, which was built on land endowed by Azan bin Umar Al-Katiri shortly before World War II. The teachers in the Madrasa were mostly Hadhrami. At school in the late fifties, Alkatiri started learning Portuguese in addition to his mother tongue, Bahasa Kupang, which is a variation of Bahasa Indonesia, and the lingua franca of Timor, Tetun. He spoke about the advantages and disadvantages of belonging to a religious minority: [A]t that time, being a Muslim, we couldn’t really apply for the official school. Only in the year ‘59-’60, then we were admitted to the official school. The Portuguese official school. Since the beginning… a bit discriminated within the society. Alkatiri left Timor to study surveying at university at the Angolan School of Geography. After returning to Timor, he joined an ‘anti-colonial discussion group’ (CAVR 2006, 23), and worked for the Colonial Public Works Department as a chartered surveyor (Shoesmith 2003, 236). He contributed to the Jesuit-run newspaper Seara, (Carey 1999), which escaped the Caetano regime’s censorship until 1973. In January 1970, he founded the Movement for the Liberation of East Timor (Al Madani 2002).5 He was also a founding member of ASDT, which later became FRETILIN,6 together with important personalities such as Xavier do Amaral and José Ramos Horta. I asked him if his family’s religious background had an influence on his political attitudes. He replied with a confirmation and a dig at his opponents: The way [my father] approached things were different sometimes. Of course [it had an effect]...religious identity is still very strong in my way of doing things. I try to be straightforward but very honest. And sometimes I hear that people don’t like it. They prefer the Javanese style. After the early influence of his father, Alkatiri’s political or ideological identity as a member of FRETILIN became decidedly more important. The African nationalist movements and other anti-colonial struggles inspired FRETILINs ideology in the seventies. FRETILINs avowed aim was to be a ‘front that united nationalist and anti-colonial groups under one vision—the liberation of Timorese from colonialism’ (CAVR 2006). In the early 1970s, FRETILIN also drafted programmes threatening the Church, including a ‘critique of the Church’s involvement in colonialism and its large land-holdings’ (Smyth 2004). Prior to the Indonesian invasion, says Carey, ‘FRETILIN was proposing a complete division of Church and State’ (1999, 81). Alkatiri stated that for a modern political party, there was no other choice to insist on the division of Church and State. Further, during his term as Prime Minister, people pushed him to set up a Ministry of Religious Affairs, which he argued, ‘is not a tradition from a Catholic majority country. This is 3 Alkatiri, M. 2011, Interview with author, Dili, Timor Leste, August 12 Marina Alkatiri is the Timorese ambassador to Mozambique 5 Also; Alkatiri, M. 2011, Interview with author, Dili, Timor Leste, August 12 6 FRETILIN is the Frente Revolucionária do Timor Leste Independente (Revolutionary Front of Independent East Timor) 4 226 a tradition for an Islamic majority country. You are trying to copy Indonesia. I am Muslim, but I don’t agree with this’. Alkatiri practices his religion, as the majority of Timorese people to, but he admits, ‘I am a Muslim, but I am not a radical Muslim. Even for some Muslims, I am a very bad Muslim. But of course I am a progressivist man’. After the unilateral declaration of independence following the FRETILIN/UDT civil war in 1975, Alkatiri was named Minister of State of Political Affairs in the short-lived FRETILIN government (Al Madani 2002). Alkatiri recalled this period immediately after the Indonesian invasion: We couldn’t really get assistance from Portugal, to establish our headquarters in Portugal. I flew to Mozambique, because I know Samora Machen, the-then President of Mozambique [. ...] I went there and then he signed immediately, ok, you can come here [and establish your embassy]. His personal connections with African leaders of anti-colonial movements were more important than his religious identity during his exile. Frelimo in Mozambique supported FRETILINs exiled External Delegation7 at both the diplomatic and individual level. The Frelimo government gave scholarships to any Timorese who could qualify for university, (Hill 2006) demonstrating that solidarity within the anticolonial movement and his political connections played a role in Alkatiri’s success. Alkatiri had a successful professional career in Mozambique; he studied law at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Maputo before becoming a legal consultant in 1992 and later lecturing at the University of Mozambique. In 1977, Alkatiri replaced Ramos-Horta as the Minister for Foreign Affairs for the External Delegation when Ramos-Horta became Timor Leste’s representative to the United Nations. In the 1980s, Xanana left FRETILIN and declared that Falantil, the revolutionary army in Timor Leste, would be party neutral in the fight for independence. Ramos-Horta also left FRETILIN, and Alkatiri became very influential in the leadership of the External Delegation. By the time the exiles returned to Timor Leste, Hughes says, ‘the efforts made by FRETILIN in the early 1970s to popularise the socialist nationalism of Portuguese Africa had long since paled into insignificance’ and beside the brutal impact of the Indonesian occupation a very different sort of nationalism had grown up—conservative and anti-communist, with a strong emphasis on religion — things that so many citizens had imbibed from the Indonesian system (Hughes 2009, 191). The Australian Media After September ‘11 and during the so-called War on Terror, the Australian media gave negative press to Islam and Muslims. The majority of news media presented what they saw as the incommensurability of Islam with western democratic values, and treated identity and culture as a ‘core or deep value’. Some commentators called Samuel Huntington’s thesis declaiming an inevitable ‘clash of civilisations’ (Huntington 1993), between Islam and the West prophetic. Conservative international politics re-fashioned scripts of the Other using bald orientalisms, a strategy that Verstraete & Longman have argued makes religion or “culture into the main identity factor of a population, or its motivational force in intercultural conflicts” (2004, 5). I would suggest this is particularly true in cases of Arab/Muslim diasporic communities as Heiss & Slama have argued (2011, 232). To illustrate the discursive context in which discussions of Alkatiri’s identity took place, I digress briefly to the Australian media reportage of the 2002 so-called Bali Bombings. The weekly news magazine The Bulletin wrote, “there are monsters on the loose […] [Eric Ellis talks to police about] ‘the secret world of ‘Indonesia’s Arabs’’, because, he elaborates, ‘Militant Hadhramis are believed to have been instrumental in radicalising and financing otherwise moderate Indonesian Muslims’ (Ellis 2002). As Edward Said argued long before 9/11, ‘labels like ‘Arab’ or ‘Muslim’ as subdivisions of ‘The Orient’’, are so over-determined and political that, ‘no one today can use them without some attention to the formidable polemical mediations that screen the objects, if they exist at all, that the labels designate’ (Said 1984, 214). In Alkatiri’s case, the Australian media happily used labels 7 The group of FRETILIN members living in exile and trying to win Timorese independence through international diplomacy 227 like Muslim and Arab to discuss him as a politician, making “culture” into the main motivational force in what was a political struggle of elites over legitimacy. In this way, the media simplified complex politics and history for Australian readers, a great number of which subsequently saw Australian interference in Timorese affairs, especially over the gas in the Timor Gap, as natural and perhaps necessary. Instability at the national level of Timorese politics was concurrent with these discussions. The Australian media cast roles for actors in post-Independence Timor Leste in terms of primordial identities and these international portrayals refracted back into Timor itself. To draw on Eller and Coughlan’s, ‘The poverty of Primordialism’ (Eller and Coughlan 1993, 46-7), media reports attributed the strife to the a priori nature of Alkatiri’s Muslim- and the Timorese people’s Catholic- identities. They also presented the inevitable conflict between religious identities as the beginning and end point of their analysis. Regardless of the complexities of the situation Dili, media wrote to themes of ineffable and incompatible identities in Timor Leste. The Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Four Corners ran a report 2006 called ‘Stoking the Fires’ (Jackson 2006). This piece of television journalism won Australia’s highest award for journalism but has since been heavily criticised for its ‘irregularities’ recently in the documentary film ‘Breaking the News’ by Nicholas Hansen (2011). At the beginning of the programme, the reporter Liz Jackson, quoted men at the 2005 Church demonstrations, ‘’Alkatiri is a terrorist, a communist, a Muslim’ say the men at this rally’ (Jackson 2006). Jackson conflated terms and used primordial notions of the incommensurability of Islam and Christianity to frame her subsequent allegations. The Australian newspaper ran articles calling Alkatiri a ‘fundamentalist’, (Aarons 2006) and seven days after the broadcast of ‘Stoking the Fires’ and amidst riots, Alkatiri resigned. Alkatiri told me, ‘I was trying to sue Four Corners, for Four Corners’ complete fabrication of a lot of things, but I didn’t really get good lawyers in Australia’. During the Church demonstrations in 2005, Mark Dodd of The Australian wrote that the appeal for Alkatiri to step down, ‘struck a popular chord, with many in the staunchly conservative Catholic nation already uneasy about being ruled by an un-elected Muslim’ (Dodd 2005). There are a number of problems with this statement, it is debateable how ‘staunchly’ Catholic or conservative Timor is; further, that the demonstrations were representative of a widespread opinion or of certain opposition groups is unknown. Dodd’s analysis presented the demonstrations as an inevitable conflict between religious identities. Alkatiri gave reasons why the Australian media campaigned so strongly against him, and in his opinion, it comes down to resources. At the time, Alkatiri was negotiating with the-then Australian Prime Minister John Howard regarding the Timor Gap, and the natural gas reserves it contains. Alkatiri asserted, ‘If I had really, in the negotiation, given bigger, better opportunities for the Australians, they would have defended me, I am sure. This is very opportunistic… a very pragmatic way of doing things’. Although the Australian media did not have control over Timorese public opinion, media portrayals of Alkatiri did reflect back into the domestic scene. In this way, religious identity became more prominent, and provided another way to justify opposition to his government. The Australian media wrote analyses of situations in East Timor using primordialist notions of religion and in doing so, replicated the turn to ethnicity given legitimacy by people like Huntington. Questions of religious identity subsequently assumed more importance in political debate in Australia and in East Timor. Having pointed to the flaws of such an essentializing approach, I nevertheless argue that Alkatiri’s ethnic and religious background did have some influence on his biography even before he became Prime Minister. In the following, I posit Alkatiri’s cultural identity as a Hadhrami enabled his education, which in turn allowed him to become a politician and to be part of FRETILINs External Delegation. The Church Demonstrations After Timor Leste became independent, the nationalist sentiment that had been important for community solidarity was changed. During Alkatiri’s exile, the Catholic Church had grown influential. Their solidarity with the Timorese people in offering places of refuge and the limited contact that the Timorese had with the External Delegation meant that the Timorese Church became a key channel of communication and resistance (Carey 1999, 86). 228 In the UNTAET interim government, Alkatiri was both the Chief Minister and the Minister for Economy and Development. At this juncture too, Alkatiri’s Muslim identity played little role in his selection. It was his standing in the international community as leader of FRETILIN’s External Delegation that contributed to his success. FRETILIN subsequently won 57 per cent in the first elections in August 2001 and Alkatiri became Timor Leste’s first Prime Minister. On the 3rd of November 2002, police arrested a high school student at a demonstration. The next day a demonstration against the arrest was held in front of National Parliament. It is alleged that outsiders incited the demonstrators. During the latter demonstration a student was shot, quite probably by the police. A group of the demonstrators then burnt Hello Mister supermarket, houses near the mosque, Alkatiri’s house, and the house of his younger brother. David Hicks stated recently that the burning was carried out by pro-Indonesian and anti-government demonstrators (Hicks 2011, 121). The violence, at least partially directed at Alkatiri, illustrated his decreasing popularity with some groups. The Church demonstrations began in April 2005, after the Cabinet had decided in February to make moves to stop compulsory Catholic education from state schools (Hicks 2011, 118). Alkatiri said he voted against the majority of the cabinet for religious teaching to remain compulsory. In January, Bishop Dom Alberto Ricardo da Silva and Bishop Dom Basilio do Nasciemento had made an official complaint to a body convened by the United Nations that not enough was being done to convict those guilty of war crimes during the Indonesian period (Hicks 2011, 123) amongst other complaints, listed in full by da Silva (2008, 11).8 The Age reported, ‘influential sections of the Church called people into the capital, Dili, to protest against the curriculum’ (Murdoch 2005). People at the protest held placards asking people to ‘fight against the Alkatiri regime’ and the same article quoted Father Benancio Araujo as saying, ‘We are fighting the dictatorship regime of Alkatiri’ (Garcia 2005). Father Domingos Soares, a member of the CRNT organising committee, said, ‘the people and the Catholic Church have joined peacefully for an end to this extremist government’ (Lamb 2005). Another banner proclaimed, ‘Win war with God, government with God, develop with God’ (Hicks 2011). I suggest this last banner shows the pairing of nationalism and religion that characterised the a new aspect of nationalism in Timor Leste, and which, by its nature, disallowed Alkatiri’s inclusion. Alkatiri was reported in a Mozambique newspaper as saying, ‘I admit the fact that I am a Muslim, in an overwhelmingly Catholic country, may be difficult for some Catholics to accept’ and remarked, ‘the Catholic Church played the role of an opposition, organising demonstrations for two or three weeks’ (AIM 2006). In our interview, he agreed that his religious identity played a role in the demonstrations: …not for the normal people, but some of the Catholic hierarchy [.…] particularly those in a political party - small parties - they had no other argument, [other] than to tell the people this is a majority Catholic country, [and therefore] can’t be really governed by a Muslim. Zelia Fernandes, a FRETILIN party member, also said that ‘Alkatiri being Muslim is not a strong argument’.9 Alkatiri flatly denied that he was against religious teaching in schools and that he had voted for its inclusion in the February 2005 cabinet vote. He said it is his belief that although the Church could not form part of the government, ‘the Catholic Church is part of [Timorese] identity. As a politician, I am 8 I reproduce Kelly da Silva’s note (2008, 11 n14): ‘On April 26, 2005 the Timor Post printed part of the Church’s accusations against the government, which were characterized as anti-democratic and unjust. To ground its claims, the Church presented the following evidence [that the government was at fault], the, 1) creation of the Committee of Truth and Friendship along with the Indonesian state; 2) lack of transparency in the negotiations with companies drilling for oil in the Timor Sea; 3) lack of appropriate punishment against the former Secretary of State, Virgílio Smith, for a crime for which he was condemned; 4) lack of appropriate public policies for food security, education, and health; 5) lack of government assistance to Falintil’s veterans; 6) negative economic growth since the restoration of independence; 7) nepotism; 8) anti-democratic use of force in popular demonstrations; and 9) disrespect for freedom of the press’ 9 Fernandes, Z. 2011, Interview with author, Dili, Timor Leste, July 8 229 always looking for a strong identity of the people. As a small country between two giants you need really a strong identity, to identify yourself as different’. He also claimed that these days his relationship with the Catholic Church is greatly improved: I think we cannot really proliferate religions here[. …] when I was Prime Minister, I was really protecting the Catholic Church here against the new groups of Christians coming in, nee? [...] And now suddenly the Prime Minister is Catholic, everybody is Catholic, and they open doors, windows, and everything for those people to come. That’s the reason why the Catholic Church now realise it was better with [me]. For FRETILIN, a national revolutionary identity was more important than religious identity, making Alkatiri’s religious affiliation largely irrelevant within the party. Alkatiri claims an authentic revolutionary identity: ‘I am a founder of this country; I am the founder of everything, FRETILIN, Falintil, the Democratic Party of Timor Leste. There is no other… leader with the same condition (sic.). That’s why I have been telling the people: religiously, I belong to a minority, politically; I am the leader of the majority. But this is a contradiction’. These words lend support to Hughes’ argument that Alkatiri and FRETILIN saw themselves as ‘early pioneers who helped forge a national consciousness, they were the vanguard of the nationalist revolution’ (2009, 193). Hughes’ summary gives a deeper reading to the opinion Alkatiri offered me of his stature as founding father, namely, ‘the FRETILIN government argued that Portuguese language and culture were a part of Timorese history and that restoration of Portuguese had ‘always’ been FRETILIN policy’. In doing so they claimed to be ‘recapturing the authentic Timorese experience’ (Hughes 2009, 193), regardless of the 24 years of intervening post-colonial history. Alkatiri’s time away from East Timor also played against him, as for many people, “whatever suffering homesick exiles might have endured abroad could not come close to their own’ (Traube 2011, 134). During the 2005 Church demonstrations, Alkatiri’s Islamic identity became a political burden. Even though he could claim revolutionary credentials, the kind of nationalism that had evolved in Timor was greatly different and had used the ‘Church as a source of social cohesion and political mobilisation’ (Hughes 2009, 194). By virtue of his Hadhrami identity and left wing credentials, he was not able to use the Church as a support network and this limited his political success. The 2005, Church demonstrations marked a turning point in Alkatiri’s term as Prime Minister and illustrated his diminishing popularity with internal and external stakeholders that would lead to his controversial resignation in 2006. In this sense, the argument over religious teaching in schools was also a debate over national identity. Alkatiri and FRETILIN supported, and were representative of, a secular and more Portuguese socialist identity, but the Church, Xanana Gusmao and José Ramos-Horta has the support of the younger members of the clandestine movement and a more conservative and religious identity. Ramos-Horta ran as an independent in the presidential elections and said in the Tetun-language part of his inauguration speech, that he had ‘three superiors, the Vatican and its two representatives in Timor’, Bishops Ricardo da Silva and Basilio de Nascimento. He added, ‘As President, I will work together with the Church in order to make the relationship between the Church and the State even stronger (Ramos-Horta 2007). Ramos-Horta was able to appeal to the more conservative and religious nationalist sentiment. At the vital juncture of the Church demonstrations in 2005, Alkatiri could not make the same appeal. Conclusion Edward Said once lamented, in a response to Huntington, ‘how finally inadequate are the labels, generalisations and cultural assertions’ (Said 2001). The inadequacy of the Australian media’s presentation of Alkatiri’s identity has become clear in the course of this article, but so too have the constraints identity can place on a political leader. It was not an incommensurability of Muslim and Catholic identities, as the Australian media would have it, but rather that Alkatiri appealed to a different kind of socialist and secular nationalism for legitimacy. Even though he could claim revolutionary credentials, the kind of nationalism that had evolved in East Timor was greatly different and the young and the clandestine movement had used the, ‘Church as a source of social cohesion and political mobilisation’ (Hughes 2009, 194). By virtue of his 230 Hadhrami-Muslim identity and left wing credentials, Alkatiri was neither able to use the Church as a support network, nor could he claim legitimacy from it; this was obviously limiting his political success. I have argued that in the colonial period, being a member of the Hadhrami community in East Timor meant he had a more advantaged economic background than many other East Timorese and was able to go to the Islamic madrasah before attending the government school at the age of ten. Education allowed him to imagine a free and independent Timor and this passion made him a founding member of the leftwing independence party, FRETILIN. In FRETILINs External Delegation, identity took second place to ideology. His party claim that his religious identity is not important for a modern leader, but in 2005, his cultural identity was constraining because it meant he was positioned outside the Church’s communication and solidarity network. This in turn meant that his public personality could not have resonance with the nationalist feeling that had developed along more conservative and religious lines in East Timor since 1975. Alkatiri could not claim legitimacy because the new kind of nationalist discourse excluded him in an instance of problematized identity from which he has found his political career difficult to resurrect thus far. In the upcoming parliamentary elections in June 2012, it is most likely that Alkatiri will once again run for Prime Minister. Five years ago, in the 2007 elections, ‘the public standing and reputation of the former Prime Minister […] was not seen as an advantage’ (Bexley & McWiliam 2008, 78) although FRETILIN won a greater number of primary votes (29 per cent) than other parties did. Nonetheless, talking to people in Dili in 2011 about Alkatiri drew mixed reactions, party supporters stand behind him but others are suspicious. It is also of interest whether infrastructure spending by the incumbent coalition government will placate voters, especially in some of the districts outside Dili, who seem frustrated with lack of services and economic development and who might otherwise vote for FRETILIN. In any case, the campaign period over the next few months will show whether Alkatiri’s religious identity continues to play a role in the East Timorese public’s imagination as well as in the Australian media’s reporting on East Timor. Bibliography Aarons, Mark 2006, Marxist Leaders Have Failed, The Australian, May 29. AIM. 2006. Alkatiri Attacks Australian Interference in Timor. Mozambique News Agency. November 24. Alatas, Ismail Fajrie 2010, ‘A new resurgence? The Ba’alawi and Islamic revival in post-Soeharto Indonesia. Paper presented at, Islam, trade and culture: The roles of Arabs in Southeast Asia’, Singapore, 10 and 11 April. Al Madani, Abdullah 2002, East Timor's Premier Has Arab Ancestry, Gulf News, July 21. Bazher, Ambarak A. 1995, Islam di Timor Timur Jakarta, GemaInsani Press Jakarta. Bexley, Angie and Andrew McWilliam 2008, ‘Performing Politics: The 2007 Parliamentary Elections in Timor Leste’ The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 9(1): 66-82. Carey, Peter 1999, ‘The Catholic Church, Religious Revival, and the Nationalist Movement in East Timor, 19751998’, Indonesia and the Malay World 27(6): 77-95. CAVR 2006, ‘History of the Conflict’ in Chega! The report of the Commission for Reception Truth and Reconciliation in Timor Leste (CAVR). Truth and Reconciliation in Timor Leste Commission for Reception, Dili, pp. 1-186, http://www.etan.org/etanpdf/2006/CAVR/03-History-of-the-Conflict.pdf, viewed 20 April, 2011. Clarence-Smith, W. G. & Ulrike Freitag 1997, Hadhrami Traders, Scholars and Statesmen in the Indian Ocean 1750 1960, Brill, Leiden. Coughlan, Read and Jack Eller 1993, ‘The Poverty of Primordialism: The Demystification of Ethnic Attachments’, in Hutchinson, John and Anthony D. Smith (eds), Ethnicity. Oxford University Press, London, pp. 45-51. Da Silva, Kelly C. 2008, ‘The Bible as Constitution or the Constitution as Bible? Nation-State Building Projects in East Timor’, Horizontes Antropológicos 4: 1-16. Dodd, Mark 2005, Uprising Threatens Government Stability, The Australian, May 4. East Timor Legal Blogspot, Alkatiri and Lu Olu expected to Lead. 2011. http://easttimorlegal.blogspot.com/2011/08/alkatiri-and-lu-olo-expected-to-lead.html, viewed March 8, 2012. Ellis, Eric 2002, Bali's Blood Wake, The Bulletin with Newsweek, November 2. Fox, James and Soares, Dionisio Babo 2003, Out of the Ashes: Destruction and Reconstruction of East Timor, Australian National University Press, Canberra http://epress.anu.edu.au/oota/frames.php , viewed 30 September 2011. 231 Garcia, Rosa 2005. East Timor's Catholic Church Rallies Thousands in Anti-Government Protest. Agence FrancePresse (AFP), April 19. Haegerdal, Hans 2010, ‘Cannibals and Pedlars: Economic and Political Alliances in Alor: 1600-1850’, Indonesia and the Malay World, 38(11): 217-46. Hajek, John 2002, ‘Language maintenance and survival in East Timor: All change now? Winners and losers’, in Bradley, D and M Bradley (eds), Language endangerment and Language Maintenance, RoutledgeCurzon, London, pp. 182. Hansen, Nicholas 2011, Breaking the News, Sydney, Screen Australia, Mutiny Media and Film Art Media. Hartwig, Friedhelm 2001, ‘Contemplation, Social Reform and the Recollection of Identity: Hadrami Migrants and Travellers between 1896 and 1972’, Die Welt des Islams, 41(3): 311-47. Heiss, Johann & Martin Slama 2011, ‘Comparing Arab Diasporas: Post-9/11 and Historical Perspectives on Hadhrami and Syro-Lebanese Communities in Southeast Asia and the Americas’, in Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East, 31(2): 231-250. Hicks, David 2011, ‘Church Confronts State: The 2005 Manifestasaun in Timor-Leste’ in Handelmann, Don and Galina Lindquist, Religion, Politics & Globalisation: Anthropological Approaches, Berghahn Books, pp. 117-137. Hill, Helen 2006, Stand up, the Real Mr Alkatiri. The Age, June 1. Hughes, Caroline 2009, Dependent Communities: Aid and Development in Cambodia and East Timor, Cornell University, New York. Huntington, Samuel 1993, ‘The Clash of Civilizations?’ Foreign Affairs, 72 Jackson, Liz 2006, Stoking the Fires, Four Corners (News documentary). Sydney: Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Lamb, Jon 2005, East Timor: Protests in Dili Challenge Government, Green Left Weekly, April 27. Lape, Peter 2000, ‘Political Dynamics and Religious Change in the late Pre-Colonial Banda Islands’, Eastern Indonesia World Archaeology, 32(1): 138-155. 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Loxely (eds) Literature, Politics and Theory: Papers from the Essex Conference 1976-84, Methuen, New York, pp. 210-230. -- 2001, The Clash of Ignorance. The Nation, October 4. Shoesmith, Dennis 2003, ‘Divided Leadership in a Semi-Presidential System’, Asian Survey, 43(2):231-52. Smyth, Patrick A. 2004, The Heaviest Blow - the Catholic Church and the East Timor Issue. Lit Verlag, Munster. The History of Timor. Not dated. Lisbon, Technical University of Lisbon. pp. 1-170 at http://pascal.iseg.utl.pt/~cesa/History_of_Timor.pdf Viewed 25 April, 2011. Traube, Elizabeth G. 2011, ‘Planting the Flag’, in McWilliam, Andrew & Elizabeth Traube (eds), Land and Life in Timor Leste: Ethnographic Essays, Australian National University ePress, Canberra. Verstraete, Ghislain, & Chia Longman 2004, ‘Introduction’, in Pinxten R., Ghislain Verstraete & Chia Longman (eds), Culture and Politics: Identity and Conflict in a Multicultural World, Bergham Books, New York. pp. 1-2 232 34 Family influences on long-term and short-term child growth in Ossu area, Timor-Leste Debra S Judge,1 Katherine A Sanders,2 Nadine Reghupathy,3 Pedro Canisio Amaral,4 and Lincoln H Schmitt5 When family resources are limited, as in much of Timor-Leste (Mendoca 2002), the allocation of food between adults and children and among children can be crucial to child growth (Crooks et al 2007, Haaga and Mason 1987). We examine variation in household characteristics including resources available (e.g. wage labour, house materials, education etc), place of residency (town or hamlet) and family composition, and relate these variables to child growth in the Ossu area of Viqueque District. Because resources are acquired through labour and are consumed by family members, the age and perhaps sex composition of families may influence both resource accumulation and consumption (Pelto et al 1991). From 1975 to 1999, the people of Timor-Leste suffered food shortages, foreign occupation, warfare, civil disturbances and political upheaval on a background of general poverty. Today, a sizeable proportion of the population (41%) survive on less than 88 cents per day (AUSAID 2011). Rural Timorese live a predominantly subsistence lifestyle. The rural diet relies on crops such as rice, potatoes, maize, papaya, banana, cassava and water spinach (Seeds of Life 2007). Most crops are seasonal resulting in a period of food shortage from November to April (United Nation Food Programme 2005) during the long wet season. Children suffer from malnutrition and are generally in poor health (Bucens and Maclennan 2006). High levels of infectious diseases such as malaria exacerbate nutrition problems. Infant mortality is 45 deaths per 1000 live births (National Statistics Directorate Ministry of Finance DRTL 2010) ranking 66 highest of 222 countries in the world for infant deaths (CIA 2011). While under-5 year child mortality has declined in recent years, 58% of children under 5 years are stunted6 and 19% are wasted7 and these proportions have increased since 2006 (National Statistics Directorate Ministry of Finance DRTL 2010). Children are embedded in families and so understanding the conditions faced by families and their responses is important for improving child health. Child growth is one indicator of the well-being of families in subsistence economies like that of Timor-Leste (Crooks et al 2007). Characteristics of the family influence how resources are acquired and distributed. Parental education (Taguri et al 2008), subsistence mode, and the number and productivity of other producers (Sellen 2003) impact on resource acquisition. Parental education influences the amount and type of resources coming into the household and a mother’s education is associated with health promoting childcare behaviours (Semba et al 2008); but results are mixed (Desai and Alva 1998). Education may also increase household income through better employment (Semba et al 2008; Taguri et al 2008). An unemployed adult increases the risk to the family of insufficient funds to provide food or other basic resources, while continuing to consume resources (Rickard et al 2007); however, higher income is not always related to better child health (Boyle et al 2006). Investment in the care of children by adults other than the parents often is linked with lower rates of childhood mortality and positive growth measures (Sear, Mace and McGregor 2000). Other adults present in the household may increase family resources through income or labour and contribute to the care of 1 School of Anatomy & Human Biology, The University of Western Australia Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 Ministry of Health, Dili, Timor-Leste 5 School of Anatomy & Human Biology, The University of Western Australia 6 Stunted: height-for-age is more than 2 standard deviations below the WHO child growth standard median (WHO 2008). 7 Wasted: weight-for-height is more than 2 standard deviations below the WHO child growth standard median (WHO 2008) 2 233 children, but they are also consumers of household resources. Therefore, the adult composition of the household may impact child health in various ways. After resource acquisition, allocations among household members can affect individual child growth. Distributions may not be equal and can vary according to family size (Aerts et al 2004; Downey 1995) and in some cases parental biases (Basu et al 1986; Chen et al 1981). Increased numbers of children in the household can negatively impact child growth as allocations per child generally decrease (Downey 1995) especially while children are young and do not contribute to household productivity (Stinson 1980). The amount of food in the household and food distribution among siblings is directly related to child growth (Taguri et al 2008; Adekunle 2005). Cross-culturally, motivations for adoption or fostering of children include manipulation of family size for the benefit of the adoptive family or the natal family (Rawson and Berggren 1973; Daly and Wilson 1980), to gain extra labour (Silk 1987), to modify the family sex ratio (Hooper 1970; Daly and Wilson 1980) and to remedy childlessness (Schroeder-Butterfill and Kreager 2005; Daly and Wilson 1980; Hooper 1970) and to compensate for parental death. These various motivations could result in differential treatment of fostered children and consequently different growth outcomes. Thus, household decisions impacting on resource allocations may be influenced by child age, sex, and natural or adoptive status. Child growth is influenced by nutritional status. Anthropometric measures can assess both present and past nutritional status of children. Height-for-age indicates a child’s prior long-term nutrition whereas weight-for-height as measured by Body Mass index (BMI) is one of the best indicators of a child’s current nutritional state (Waterlow et al 1977; de Onis 2001, p 75). Weight-for-age is a good indicator of general malnutrition and is useful for assessing young children in cross sectional studies (Waterlow et al 1977). Mid upper arm circumference (MUAC) provides a good field indicator of protein energy malnutrition for children under 5 years of age (Jelliffe and Jelliffe 1969; van den Broeck et al 1996). This study assesses the characteristics of the family that impact child growth in the Ossu area of Timor-Leste. We evaluate associations of the above mentioned household characteristics in relation to achieved child size measures in three communities in Ossu sub-district of Viqueque. We then look at characteristics associated with patterns of short term change over the hungry season in the same communities. Methods Interviews and measurements were conducted from July to September 2009 (during harvest) and again in April to May 2010 (following the ‘hungry season’) at three localities in the sub-district of Ossu in the southern central region of Timor-Leste in the district of Viqueque. We sampled households with children in Ossu town (n = 47 households), and the rural hamlets of Liamida (3 km north of Ossu; n=20) and Kai-uaihoo (7 km north of Ossu; n = 35). The first house selected in each locality was situated on the edge of the locality and the road towards the centre of the locality was followed, visiting all occupied houses that were visible on the way using the nearest neighbour pattern. Household heads were approached and the study explained; fewer than five households overtly declined to participate. Informed consent was obtained from all participants. In the first sampling period, 157 boys and 145 girls in 95 of the households were fully measured and are the basis of the first set of analyses. The second sampling period included measures from 85 households; 3 families had moved out of the community, 2 families withdrew and the other 5 were temporarily absent. One hundred thirteen boys and 108 girls were remeasured and family histories updated; these children are the basis of analyses of short term change over the hungry season between September 2009 and April 2010. For each household, we recorded the age, sex, education level and occupation of each adult member, as well as crops grown and numbers of livestock, availability of electricity, and housing construction materials. Because electricity was limited to some households in Ossu town it was confounded with locality and so excluded from further analyses. Information about the age, sex, birth order and status (biological, adopted/fostered) of each child was obtained. Interviews were conducted with the help of a male and a female language assistant and questions were repeated to minimize misunderstandings. 234 Households were visited several times during each season to complete interviews and measure children not present at the earliest visits. Stature, weight and MUAC were measured following standard procedures (de Onis et al 2004) and BMI was calculated (kg/m2). All measures were taken with the participants lightly clothed and without shoes. Recumbent length was measured for infants unable to stand erect. To adjust for the influence of sex and age, the four anthropometric measures were converted to Z-scores using the WHO anthropometric references (World Health Organization 2007). Z scores are available up to age 19 years for height and BMI, up to 10 years for weight, and up to 5 years for MUAC. These age and sex standardized variables were used in all statistical analyses. Using the 2009 cross-sectional data, we fitted hierarchical linear models (HLM) regressing each of the four child growth measures against household and child characteristics modelled as independent fixed effects and household identity as a random effect. This approach is appropriate to the analysis of nested data (e.g. children within households) as it takes into account the correlation between individuals within the same household (Snijders and Bosker 1999). No interactions were significant and so were dropped from subsequent models. For each dependent variable we started with a full model and backwards eliminated non-significant independent variables until only significant predictors remained. First we describe the characteristics of the 2009 sample. Then short-term changes in child growth between August 2009 and May 2010 are analysed via comparisons of paired measures. A change score was then calculated and regressed against household and personal characteristics using HLM, with particular focus on the adult composition of the household. SPSS 18.0 was used for data screening and analysis. A probability (p) value of < 0.05 was accepted as statistically significant. Results and Discussion Characteristics of the sample. The number of residents per household ranged from 2 to 15 people (mean = 6.1). In Ossu town, households had significantly more occupants (7.0) on average than Liamida (4.6; p < 0.001) or Kai-uai-hoo (5.8; p = 0.04). Ossu town households averaged 4.4 children in contrast to 2.8 and 3.2 in Liamida (p = 0.003) and Kai-uai-hoo (p = 0.008), respectively. Households in Liamida averaged significantly fewer adults (1.8) than Ossu (2.6; p = 0.02) and Kai-uai-hoo (2.7; p = 0.02). Fewer women from Liamida (22%) had received any schooling compared to Ossu and Kai-uai-hoo (63% and 56% respectively, p = 0.01). The proportion of men with any education was similar in each community (Ossu 60%, Liamida 71% and Kai-uai-hoo 55%). Household ownership of livestock and crops co-varied with the locality; a higher proportion of households in Ossu town did not have livestock (28%) and crops (58%) while Kai-uai-hoo had the largest proportion of households with livestock (91%) and two or more crops (66%). Proportions of households with fostered children were the same across communities (Ossu 32%, Liamida 30% and Kai-uai-hoo 29%). Of 95 households with children fully measured, 28 (29.5%) had resident children (n = 41 children) who were not the biological children of either household head. Both the number of adults (2.7 and 2.4) and the total number of children (3.7 and 3.8) were similar in households with and without fostered children. Not surprisingly, households with fostered children had fewer biological children than non-fostering households (1.8 and 3.8, respectively; p<0.001). Cross sectional analyses of child size for age during the harvest season of 2009 Generally, children were small compared to the WHO international reference population as demonstrated by predominantly negative standardized anthropometric scores (Figure 1). Height-for-age was roughly two standard deviations below the international standard throughout childhood. Mean weight-for-age in the 0-5 age group was -1.44 (SD = 1.26), declining to -1.88 (SD = 0.93) in the 6-10 age group. Mean infant BMI approximated international standards (mean = 0.02; SD = 1.01) but declined through childhood to early adolescence and then stabilised (Figure 1). Mean MUAC, which is only available for infants up to 5 years of age, was -0.52 (SD = 1.18). Males and females did not differ on any standardized measure. 235 Figure 1 – Standardized scores for height, weight and BMI by age in years. Weight and BMI decrease with age of child. The results of the final models from the HLM analyses for each anthropometric trait in the cross sectional analysis of the 2009 data are summarised in Table 1. It is important to note that each significant association of a condition with a growth parameter is controlled for all other variables in the model. 236 Table 1: Final hierarchical linear model estimates for each standardized anthropometric measure in 2009. Input variable Height Number of children Age group (0-5 yr) -0.18*** a - 6 -12 Weight - Community (Ossu town) a 0.07* - b - 13- 19 BMI -0.47 *** MUAC - -0.88*** - -0.91*** - - - - - - - Liamida -0.83** - - - Kai-uai-hoo -0.33, ns - - - - - - Foster status of household (biological children only)a Biological child with co-resident foster children Fostered child 0.79** 0.80** - 0.82** 0.04, ns -0.03, ns - -0.30 ns a reference category in parenthesis. b age group 6 -10 years. *p < 0.05, **p < 0.01, ***p < 0.001, ns = not significant. Values are regression estimates. For number of children estimates represent change in z-score for every additional child. For age group, community and foster status, the estimates are the difference from the mean z-score of the reference category. Input variables statistically excluded from the models were: house quality, paternal occupation, paternal education, maternal education, number of adults in the household, number of biological children in the household, child’s sex and child’s birth order. Household characteristics influence the family’s ability to acquire resources. Unlike the findings of studies in some other developing nations (Mueller and Smith, 1999) but consistent with variation in findings across countries (Desai and Alva, 1998), we did not detect a statistically significant effect of parental education and paternal occupation on long-term indicators of child growth in Ossu. This may be a consequence of our modest sample size or low variability between households. Agho et al (2008) found no effect of maternal education on haemoglobin levels in East Timorese children. Children residing in Ossu town, where there is periodic electricity and easy access to health services, were significantly taller than those living in the rural hamlet of Liamida (Table 1). The rural hamlets were without electricity and more distant to health services, some schools and the main market. Household characteristics may also influence how resources are distributed among family members and hence can impact child growth. Children co-residing with larger numbers of children had lower standardized height but higher standardized BMI (Table 1). Height-for-age is a long term cumulative index of child nutrition, whereas BMI is more labile to immediate food conditions. BMI may be artificially inflated by stunting as height squared is the denominator in calculating BMI. More children in the family means that limited food must be shared between more people. Over an extended time period, limited nutrition will be reflected in reduced height (Waterlow et al 1977). However, in subsistence societies such as Timor-Leste, where children provide agricultural labour and assist with other energy demanding activities such as water collection, more children in the family could also reduce individual energy costs during times of high workload (e.g. harvest), positively impacting on body weight (and reflected in BMI). As children were measured during the harvest in 2009 this provides a plausible explanation for the different associations between number of children and height and BMI. 237 Children aged 0-5 years had higher BMI than older children. Similarly weight was relatively higher in those aged 0-5 years than the 6-10 age group (Table 1). Younger children do not yet provide labour, perhaps again reflecting the costs of labour. Standardized height, weight and MUAC were all influenced by the child’s status in the household as either biological or fostered. Biological children residing in households that included fostered children were taller, heavier and had larger MUAC for age than biological children residing in non-fostering households and fostered children (Table 1). That fostered children and those from biological only households did not differ indicates that being fostered does not impose a growth cost. This might suggest that extended family and social networks allow children to move into households that are better able to provide for them. Short term change in standardized growth measures from 2009 to 2010 Children were re-measured approximately 8 months later near the end of the hungry season. Standardized weight, BMI and MUAC declined significantly while, as expected over such a short interval, standardized height did not change (Figure 2). Figure 2 – Mean standardized growth measures of children in 2009 and 2010 Hierarchical linear modelling of the change in standardized size measures between 2009 and 2010 included the input variables: number of children, presence of mother, father, grandmother or grandfather, whether any children in the household were fostered, community (Ossu or rural hamlet), the Z for the outcome measure in 2009, child’s sex, and child’s age. Again, backward elimination regressions were performed. For changes in standardized weight, both better anthropometric condition in 2009 (weight-for-age) and residence in Ossu predicted more weight loss over the hungry season; all other variables were not significant (Table 2). For BMI better condition in 2009 (BMI-for-age) and Ossu residence predicted greater loss. Greater body mass requires greater food energy intake to maintain energy balance. Thus, heavier individuals would be expected to lose more weight in times of reduced food availability. It is also possible that there may be some buffering of weight loss for those more disadvantaged prior to the hungry season, perhaps through differential allocations of food or work though this remains, as yet, untested. The presence of a mother figure and living in a household that included fostered children, independently predicted better less decrement in BMI (Table 2). While 62% of fostering households had a grandmother present, only 22% of non-fostering households included a grandmother; thus grandmother 238 presence may help to explain the relative success of children residing in fostering households. It is not surprising that children from households without a resident ‘mother’ fared worse on markers of current nutritional status following the hungry season; Sear and Mace’s (2008) cross-cultural analysis documents the consistently positive effect of mothers on child well-being. While grandmothers may augment care of children, there is no evidence here that they are an equal substitute as reflected in child growth. Table 2 – Final hierarchical linear models for change in standardized weight and BMI from 2009 to 2010 Estimate Std error P Weight Z-weight in 2009 Ossu town (rural hamlet) a -0.16 0.05 0.001 -0.35 0.10 0.001 -0.25 0.04 0.001 -0.19 0.09 0.039 0.38 0.18 0.037 0.23 0.11 0.041 BMI Z-BMI in 2009 Ossu town (rural hamlet) a Mother present (no)a Foster household (no) a a reference category in parenthesis. Negative estimates indicate greater loss of weight or BMI from 2009 to 2010, whereas positive estimates indicate less loss of weight or BMI. Input variables statistically excluded from the models were: number of children, presence of father, grandmother or grandfather, child’s sex and child’s age. Conclusion Some characteristics expected to associate positively with child growth (such as education and wage employment) were not significant in this sample. However, a number of aspects of family composition (number of children, age of child, fostering, mother present) were associated with child growth over the long and short term. Larger numbers of children in a family may decrease energy costs associated with subsistence agriculture during times of high workload and have short-term benefits, but negatively impact on growth in the long-term (height) through reduced allocations of food. There does not appear to be a growth cost to children who are fostered into households that also have biological children. Social networks may buffer the consequences of the hungry season on children’s weight and body mass and improve child growth over the long term by allowing children to move into resource richer households. The motivations and outcomes of child movement among households will be an important focus of future research. Acknowledgements The research was approved by the Human Research Ethics Committee of The University of Western Australia and carried out with the permission of His Excellency Dr Nelson Martins, Minister of Health and Sr Valente da Silva, Ministry of Health of Timor-Leste. We gratefully acknowledge the support of the Sub-district Administration of Ossu, the xefes de suco Ossu de Cima, Sr Tomas Gutierez manager of the CHC Ossu, and our language assistants, Artins da Silva, Lucia Hornai and Sara Sexas. Sincere thanks to the families of Ossu, Liamida and Kai-uai-hoo for sharing their lives with us. 239 Bibliography Adekunle, L. 2005, 'The effect of family structure on a sample of malnourished urban Nigerian children', Food and Nutrition Bulletin, 26: 230-233. Aerts, D., M. D. L. Drachler and E. R. J. Guigliani, 2004, 'Determinants of growth retardation in Southern Brazil', Cad. Saude Publica, 20: 1182-1190. Agho, K. E., M. J. Dibley, C. D'Este and R. 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Department of Nutrition for Health and Development, Geneva, C14. 241 35 Domestic Violence in Timor-Leste: A New Law and New Obligations to Face Old Challenges Amrita Kapur1 Introduction 7 July 2010 marked an important change for human rights protection in Timor-Leste: the Law Against Domestic Violence (hereinafter referred to as “the new DV law”) was officially promulgated through the Jornal de Republica, creating a new regime to combat the entrenched phenomenon of domestic violence. The framework changes the status of some crimes of domestic violence and creates a comprehensive system of responsibilities borne by the police, prosecutors, public defenders and legal, health and emergency professional services. Amidst government, international NGO and domestic civil society efforts to educate the general population one domestic human rights NGO, the Judicial System Monitoring Programme (JSMP), and two academics from Australia identified the imperative to train the professional service providers engaging directly with domestic violence victims on their obligations under the new DV law. A successful bid for an AusAID human rights grant allowed these partners to design and implement a one-day training program delivered across four districts to legal, medical and health professionals; its purpose was to enhance understanding of the law, the obligations it imposes on various agencies, and the avenues created to assist domestic violence victims. JSMP is uniquely knowledgeable both of the legal, practical and social implications of the new law, through its Women’s Justice Unit (WJU), and the challenges facing domestic violence victims in accessing justice, through its Victim Support Service (VSS). Following the completion of the training, four staff from JSMP and one of the research partners, Dr Suzanne Belton, presented two panels at the 2011 Conference on Communicating New Research on TimorLeste held in Dili, Timor-Leste, on 30 June and 1 July 2011. One panel was presented in Tetun, and the other in English, but both comprised the same three topics: 1) The New Law Against Domestic Violence: Understanding The Legal Framework; 2) Providing Training in Law to Legal and Health Professionals in Timor-Leste 2011; and 3) Challenges Facing Domestic Violence Victims in the Formal Judicial Process. Three papers on each of these topics are available in the Tetun version of the edited conference proceedings. This paper consolidates all three presentations into one English paper. A detailed critique of the new DV law has been published by JSMP and is available on the JSMP website, www.jsmp.minihub.org. The Law Against Domestic Violence: Understanding the Legal Framework This section surveys the pre-existing legal framework and context prior to the new DV Law, the aims and important principles contained in the new DV law, the content of professional obligations imposed on various organs to assist domestic violence victims, and underlying concepts critical to the law’s operation. 1 International Advisor, Women’s Justice Unit, Judicial System Monitoring Programme (JSMP), contactable at: [email protected] . The author would like to acknowledge AusAID for its generous financial support of JSMP’s Domestic Violence Training Project funding through AusAID’s Human Rights Small Grants Scheme. The project would not have been possible without the innovative contributions from JSMP’s Australian research partners, Dr Suzanne Belton and Jeswynn Yogaratnam. JSMP’s Executive Director, Luis de Oliveira Sampaio and Deputy Director, Casimiro dos Santos managed the partnership and overall strategy of the project, while the Women’s Justice Unit team, comprising Flora Soriano Manezes, Francisca de Silva, Venancio da Costa and Jaime Martins dos Santos, worked to ensure the project was executed successfully. 242 Pre-existing legal framework and context Understanding the significance of the new DV Law is predicated on appreciating the social and legal context within which it was passed. Domestic violence is a pervasive and long-standing problem in TimorLeste, overwhelmingly experienced by women and children at the hands of husbands and fathers, respectively (Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), 2009). Estimates of the incidence of domestic violence range from around 28% as described below to 70% (Catholic Australia, 2007) but these are generally understood to be under-representative of the actual occurrence of domestic violence. Additionally, the significance or harm of domestic violence is minimised (UNFPA, 2007). The most recent and comprehensive attempt to measure incidence of domestic and gender based violence is the 2009 Demographic and Health Survey (National Statistics Directorate, Ministry of Finance, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste, 2010). The results demonstrate at least 30% of women over 15 years of age experience physical or sexual violence; that the incidence increases between 25-39 years; and that between 20 - 30% of women believed marital rape was allowable. Unfortunately, the customary methods of addressing this violence typically deprive women and children of a voice in the resolution process, which, according to VSS, generally takes the form of mediation such as a Tais or pig offering, and fails to attempt to prevent recurring violence. Recent recognition of the extent and seriousness of domestic violence in Timor-Leste has prompted government campaigns, such as the “Say No to Violence Against Women” media campaign, as well as health NGOs (such as PRADET) to focus on improving services for domestic violence victims and extensive human rights training on domestic violence for community leaders, the youth and police by domestic NGOs including JSMP, Alola and HAK. Prior to 2010, the Timor-Leste Penal Code recognised mistreatment of the spouse (Articles 154 and 156) but in limited terms that failed to challenge the cultural acceptance of domestic violence. Furthermore, other crimes such as homicide, rape, sexual assault, serious assault and assault, are rarely prosecuted when they occur within a domestic violence context. It is against this backdrop that the need for a progressive framework to better address the incidence of and harm caused by domestic violence was met with the introduction of the new DV law. Definitions, obligations and principles in the new DV Law The culmination of over 10 years of advocacy by civil society and a prolonged drafting process, the DV Law has three principal aims (Article 1): to prevent domestic violence, to protect victims of domestic violence, and to assist victims of domestic violence. The law recognises crimes of domestic violence (defined in Article 35) as public crimes (Article 36) which means that the initiation of the prosecution process is no longer dependent on the victim-complainant making an official report or his/her continuing explicit consent. Punishment is according to normal criminal procedure, but importantly, courts have authority to make a number of coercive measures aimed at protecting victims and families (Article 37). Domestic violence is defined to encompass four types of violence: physical, sexual, psychological and economic. It is notable that sexual violence explicitly includes sexual relations within marriage and is defined broadly; that psychological violence encompasses emotional damage and reduced self-esteem through a diverse range of methods; and that economic violence includes retention, partial subtraction, or total destruction of personal items, working instruments, impeding work inside or outside the home, or access to economic resources (Article 2(2)). The definition of “family” for the purposes of defining such violence as domestic is defined broadly, going beyond familial relationships to include people who are economically dependent on or in a relationship where they are under the influence of the perpetrator (Articles 2(1) and 3). Obligations are articulated for a number of agencies and involved parties, including services that are yet to be established. The government has broad obligations to develop a National Action Plan, distribute DV material in communities and the education system, and to assist and support victims through numerous entities (Articles 9 – 15, 33). These include establishing support centres and shelters to provide 243 immediate assistance, accommodation, counselling and psychological/medical/social/legal assistance (Articles 15, 16). Emergency and social services are to provide immediate assistance and connect the victim with services to meet ongoing needs (Articles 20, 21, 23). Specialised hospital services are required to preserve evidence, make and communicate reports to authorities and provide medical assistance and follow-up advice (Article 22). Legal professionals are to provide advice and representation, monitor treatment by state agencies, monitor the progress of the case and refer victims to other services as required (Article 25). Police, through the specialised services of Vulnerable Persons Units (VPUs) are similarly required to refer and facilitate access for victims to other services, as well as adequately prepare documents required for prosecutions (Article 24). This interconnected network of services and processes is to operate according to fundamental principles including consent (Article 5) and confidentiality (Article 40). The law is ambitious, and its success depends on the establishment and effective operation of numerous services and agencies. There are some areas that may prove logistically challenging: the requirement of consent before police interventions may lead to intimidated victims refusing police assistance and exposing themselves to greater risk of harm; there may be conflicts of interest if victims seek legal advice from Public Defenders who will ultimately represent the defendant in the same case; and confidentiality obligations will require medical, hospital, social and legal professionals to be very careful about which facts are reported to police and prosecuting authorities. However, the law is an important tool to encourage behavioural and attitudinal change in a society whose domestic violence victims have historically suffered in silence. Providing Training in Law to Legal and Health Professionals This section describes the project designed and executed by JSMP in collaboration with the two research partners, Dr Suzanne Belton from the Menzies School of Health Research and Mr Jeswynn Yogaratnam, from the Faculty of Law at Charles Darwin University in Australia. The project was conceived as a multidisciplinary workshop targeting medical, health and legal professionals whose understanding of the broader network of services available to domestic violence victims will promote better collaboration in the comprehensive delivery of assistance. All information summarised below can be found in the AusAID report, available on request from JSMP. Project execution The first stage of the project involved designing, distributing and collecting surveys from legal and health professionals in four districts (Dili, Baucau, Suai and Oecusse) to determine their knowledge, beliefs and practices in dealing with victims of domestic violence so that the workshops would cater to their learning needs and the social context of their work. The information gathered from the surveys included: demographic information, attitudes and opinions, how victims were defined, sources of help, whether and what previous training had been received, the presence of domestic violence in personal networks, and knowledge of services available for domestic violence victims. Over the four districts, 142 professionals participated in the surveys, which disclosed: the majority of respondents did not think domestic violence was common, but that it affected all sections of society not just the poor and uneducated; people were divided about whether alcohol caused violence, that it is tradition for men to control women, that women could leave a violent situation, and that women provoked domestic violence. The majority felt that if someone in your family hit you it was domestic violence, and that this was justified at times. The top five useful sources of help (in descending order of rates of identification) were the local police (82.9%), a women’s NGO (58.6%), a family member (48.6%), a female lawyer (42.1%) and the church (42.1%). Only two people believed domestic violence is a private matter (1.4%), and only five (3.9%) identified traditional leaders as helpful people. Male lawyers, doctors and friends were all less frequently identified than their female counterparts. Factors that would inhibit reporting of domestic violence, in descending order, were: embarrassment (57.9%), fear of prejudice (55.7%), fear of losing children or home (49.3%), fear of not 244 being believed (44.3%), a desire to protect the partner or family (47.1%), and concern about confidentiality (24.3%) Based on this information, the workshop syllabus was designed and written to combat popular myths about domestic violence, target specific areas of ignorance about legal obligations under the new law, and identify the variety of services that may assist domestic violence victims. The workshops were attended by 216 hospital/medical administration workers, doctors, medical students, nurses, midwives, lawyers and paralegals. The structure of the training involved presentation of material from expert guest speakers and some interactive activities designed to engage participants and encourage their critical thinking of the issues. Project results Post-workshop surveys revealed a number of changed attitudes and increased understanding of individual professional obligations. Participants commented that: shame is a primary reason for low reporting; wives, maids and children are most affected; domestic violence is complex and requires more training; domestic violence is against the rights and interests of women; victims need to be spoken to in private; different professionals have different obligations; and that there is an obligation to report domestic violence to authorities. From the results, it is also clear that knowledge about the importance and effect of the new DV law is low among doctors and nurses in particular, and that this severely undermines the quality of care domestic violence victims receive. Further, services are very limited or non-existent and reliant on domestic and international NGOs because the government has not yet invested the resources necessary to establish the network of services envisaged in the law. It is hoped that the National Action Plan will succeed in increasing professional knowledge, expertise and willingness to address the challenges confronted by domestic violence victims. Challenges Facing Domestic Violence Victims in the Formal Judicial Process This section describes the challenges victims encounter at every stage of the formal prosecution process, including after the new law was passed. While many of these problems have a long history and are part of the socio-legal environment in Timor-Leste, some of these challenges are specific to prosecuting the crime of domestic violence, which has only started in significant numbers since the DV law was passed in 2010. All the observations, inferences and conclusions are drawn from the direct experience of JSMP’s Victim Support Service assisting women and children victims of domestic violence engaging with the judicial system – further information and detail is available from the VSS upon request. Victims are referred to as female because this is the demographic VSS targets, and comprises the overwhelming majority of domestic violence victims in Timor-Leste. For further information about the nature of VSS’ work and current challenges, their latest report, Legal Protection for Victims of Gender Based Violence: Laws Do Not Yet Deliver Justice, can be accessed from the JSMP website. Since domestic violence is prevalent and often not known to be a crime, the common belief in communities is that domestic violence is acceptable to the extent that it is private family matter. East Timorese culture does not support victims accessing the formal justice system, particularly in patriarchal communities which comprise the majority of the population. This is compounded by: the lower levels of education and literacy among women, their economic dependence on male relatives and their subsequent fear of abandonment and inability to be economically self-sufficient, even for the duration of the court case. Logistically, the majority of the population live in rural areas, making transport to court and selfmaintenance in another town difficult for women without their own income. Linguistically, even if the woman complainant is literate, her literacy will be in Tetun rather than Portuguese, the official language used in courts and government. This problem also affects other stages, including understanding and complying with summons’ written in Portuguese, as well as understanding and participating in court proceedings. Lack of Portuguese language skills is also common in other agencies; for example, general 245 police inability to understand Portuguese compromises enforcement of judicial orders or other official documents. At the police station, victims are often questioned insensitively, or after being required to wait in the same room as the person who is the alleged perpetrator: this exacerbates victims’ fear of the formal process and its repercussions on daily life. Police frequently lack resources to allow victims to stay or sleep in a separate room, take victims to hospitals or shelters, telephones to call medical or other emergency services, or to investigate cases thoroughly and quickly. Consequently, when prosecutors receive the files, they are often incomplete and cannot be pursued. If the victim attends the Prosecutor’s office, her version of events will differ from the original complaint made at the time of the incident, due to the time elapsed and her continuing economic dependence on the alleged perpetrator. There are still problems with continuity of cases and the re-traumatisation that occurs when victims are required to relate the harm they have suffered several times. If the case proceeds to court, victims will often encounter the defendant again because there are no separate waiting rooms, and they are required to give evidence in the court room (rather than from another secure location), so they often pass the defendant on their way into court. The Law on Protection of Witnesses (2008) addresses some of these challenges but is yet to be implemented. Most problematic is Article 125 of the Penal Code, which allows family member witnesses the discretion to refuse to give evidence against the defendant. Judges sometimes refer to this as the witness’ “right to silence” which is not only factually incorrect, but dangerously misleading because it suggests that victims are exercising a ‘right’, when in fact they are contributing to the continuing denial of their own rights. In cases that result in a conviction, the decision is often delivered months after the case is heard and not sufficiently communicated to law enforcement agencies, allowing convicted defendants to remain at liberty and in contact with the victim, and to avoid making alimony or compensation payments that may have been ordered by the court. Throughout the process, due to the limited nature and number of services, victims are generally unaware of assistance they may be entitled to, particularly with respect to alternative accommodation and support that would allow them to leave a domestically violent home. Notwithstanding these continuing and difficult challenges, there has been progress, at both government and community levels. As of February 2011, the new DV law had been disseminated in six of the 13 districts, shelter houses and emergency services are being established, and a National Action Plan drafting process has commenced (Secretary of State for the Promotion of Equality, 2011. Community and local leaders are starting to understand the harmful consequences of domestic violence and the need to address the problem in a manner that respects and protects victims. Victims themselves are increasingly able to recognise domestic violence when they witness or experience it, and feel that there are better prospects to access justice to ensure perpetrator accountability, and safety for themselves and their children. Finally, education and training programs provided by JSMP and other NGOs as well as the government are clearly increasing health, medical and legal professionals’ awareness of the law, their obligations to assist victims, and the various avenues which they can pursue to achieve this. Conclusion Domestic violence has a long and entrenched history in East Timorese culture: attitudes within the community have proved difficult to change and the law has previously reflected the lack of acknowledgement of the harm and infringement of rights caused by domestic violence. The new legal framework is comprehensive and ambitious; its multi-disciplinary network of services and obligations reinforce the importance of a universal shift away from tolerance and a comprehensive solution involving diverse service providers. JSMP’s training program effectively contributed to health and legal professional awareness of the new DV law, and the challenges faced by domestic violence victims in seeking assistance. Beyond educating the general population, there is a clear need to train relevant professionals about their obligations and role in confronting domestic violence. Finally, from VSS’ experience, at every stage of the prosecution process there are a number of continuing practical obstacles to the attainment of justice and accountability for domestic violence perpetrators. Notwithstanding the long journey ahead for Timor-Leste 246 to combat domestic violence effectively, this new DV law is an important legal tool, and if accompanied by the necessary investment in resources and focus, could promote real positive change in the lives of domestic violence victims. Bibliography Catholic Australia 2007, International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, http://www.catholicaustralia.com.au/page.php?pg=mission-violenceagainstwomen1, viewed 10 October 2011. Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) 2007, Concluding observations of the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women: Timor Leste (pp. 12), 2007, New York: United Nations, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/cedaw/docs/co/CEDAW.C.TLS.CO.1.pdf, viewed 11 October 2011, National Statistics Directorate, Ministry of Finance, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste, Timor-Leste. Demographic and Health Survey 2009-10, 2010, Dili: Timor-Leste and ICF Macro, Calverton, Maryland, USA. Secretary of State for the Promotion of Equality 2011, Statement to the 55th Session of the Commission on the Status of Women, http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/csw/csw55/statements/Timor-Leste.pdf, viewed 10 October 2011. UNFPA 2007, Addressing Gender-Based Violence in East And South East Asia, in M. N. Kisekka (ed), Bangkok: Country Technical Services Team for East and South East Asia, http://asiapacific.unfpa.org/webdav/site/asiapacific/shared/Publications/2007/Addressing%20GBV%20in%2 0E%20and%20SE%20Asia%20%282007%29.pdf, viewed 11 October 2011. 247 36 Information Access and Community Empowerment: The impact of media on civil and civic engagement in Bobonaro, Timor-Leste Jessica Knowles1 Introduction Study Background From 2008 to 2011, Trócaire (the development agency of the Catholic Church of Ireland) supported an information access initiative as part of its Peacebuilding Programme. The programme logic was based on the analysis that lack of information was a contributing factor to conflict in addition to excluding many communities in Timor-Leste from accessing government services and development initiatives (Brady and Timberman 2006, 10-11). This study evolved from routine programme monitoring, and seeks to measure the impact of one of Trócaire’s Timor-Leste information access initiatives on civil and civic engagement. For the purposes of this study, civil and civic engagement are defined to include the exercise of civil rights, including accessing public services, and participation in civic duties, including voting and advocating for government accountability. The research findings of this study demonstrate a direct correlation between information access and increased civil and civic engagement. Project Background The non-governmental organization Bobonaro Center for Community and Education Development (BOCED) was formed in 2006 by youth from the district of Bobonaro. BOCED’s main activities include the dissemination of information concerning government administration, development initiatives, and current events to isolated communities. After canvassing the information needs, demographics, and relative isolation of various potential target communities, BOCED elected to focus their efforts on the sucos (villages) of Leo-Lima and Gildapil. BOCED became a local partner of Trócaire’s Peacebuilding Programme in 2008. Since the beginning of the partnership, BOCED’s activities have focused on increasing access to public information through the “Rural Community Information Access Programme,” with the goal of empowering impoverished and isolated communities to actively participate and engage with local and national development. More specifically, BOCED’s activities include the founding and maintenance of three information centers: two in Suco Leo-Lima in the aldeias (hamlets) of Rai Fatuk and Bour, and one in Suco Gildapil in Aldeia Gildapil. The information center in Rai Fatuk distributes newspapers and pamphlets, while the one in Bour has solar-panel powered television access. In Gildapil, the information center is not yet fully functional. BOCED also facilitates focus-group discussions (FGDs) on current events, development, and community issues in all three information centers. Country and District Context Timor-Leste is a developing country that faces many economic, technical, geographical, and social barriers to information dissemination. Telecommunications infrastructure is extremely limited; according to a study conducted by the United Nations Integrated Mission in Timor-Leste’s (UNMIT) Communication and Public Information Office in 2010, only 35% of households have electricity, increasing reliance on battery powered cell phones and radios for information access (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 13-14). Newspapers are a rarity in the districts due to poor road conditions and inclement weather. As a result, weekly newspaper reach is only 21% nationwide (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 3). Internet access is non-existent in most rural areas; only 7% of Timorese reported having ever used the Internet (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 63). 1 Trócaire, Caritas Ireland 248 Social conditions, including lack of education, also contribute to communication problems. UNMIT estimates that 43% of Timorese older than 15 years of age are illiterate. The multitude of official and working languages – Tetun (or Tetum), Portuguese, English, and Bahasa Indonesia – further complicate communication. Only 52% of the population can read Tetun, the main language of most Timorese newspapers (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 17). The district of Bobonaro is the westernmost in Timor-Leste, with the exception of the enclave of Oecusse, and shares a border with Indonesian West Timor. It is geographically isolated from the national capital of Dili – Bobonaro’s capital of Maliana is a five hour drive over difficult terrain. Given this isolation, Bobonaro faces many issues with regards to information dissemination. Weekly radio reach in Bobonaro is 55%, compared to 87% in Dili (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 36). Weekly newspaper reach is 17%, which is lower the national average (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 51). The Role of Media in Timor-Leste Given the limited reach and accessibility of media in Timor-Leste, its impact and significance are far less than in developed nations. This, however, is rapidly changing. UMMIT found marked increase in media reach between 2006 and 2010, particularly for radio, television, and mobile phone use (Dooradi and Soares 2011, 2-3). Media was particularly important in spreading information about the violent political events that happened in Timor-Leste in 2006. The majority of Timorese first heard about the events through informal personal contacts, such as friends and neighbors, but national radio station Radio Timor Leste was considered both the most important and most reliable source of news during the crisis (Mytton and Soares 2007, 43-45). This indicates that media is gaining respect in Timor-Leste as a reliable information source, especially in times of crisis. Previous Research on Media in Timor-Leste Limited quality research has been conducted concerning media in Timor-Leste, and there are almost no studies that evaluate media’s impact on civil and civic engagement. There have been several studies on media usage, including Foundation Hirondelle’s 2007 Timor-Leste National Media Survey and UNMIT’s 2011 Timor-Leste Communication and Media Survey. Previous Research on Media’s Impact on Civil and Civic Engagement There is also limited quality research on the impact of media on civil and civic engagement in developing countries. The strongest evidence for a causal effect between media and civil and civic engagement is perhaps a study analyzing data from India that was conducted by researchers at the London School of Economics, which found “that public distribution of food and calamity relief expenditure are more keenly targeted to shocks in states where newspaper circulation is highest”(Besley and Burgess 2000a, 1). The same researchers also found that “richer, more urbanized or more densely populated states do not appear to be more responsive. This suggests that the technological capacity to respond may not be the key determinant of responsiveness” (Besley and Burgess 2000b, 17). The economist David Stromberg also found a similar correlation between media penetration and government responsiveness during the implementation of the New Deal in the United States in the 1930s. Stromberg found that a one percent increase in the number of radios per household in a particular county correlated with a 0.52 percent increase in relief expenditure (Stromberg 2007, 100). Methodology Definitions and Questionnaire As a post-conflict and nascent democracy, Timor-Leste presents a unique opportunity to study how media impacts citizens’ civil and civic engagement levels. Measuring these levels, however, necessitates strong working definitions. For the purposes of this study, civil and civic engagement are defined to include the exercise of civil rights, including accessing public services, and participation in civic duties, including 249 voting and advocating for government accountability. The study questionnaire included 60 quantitative and qualitative questions designed to measure the impact of respondents’ media usage on their levels of engagement. Approach Interviews were conducted between March and May of 2011 by two Trócaire staff members, five BOCED staff, and two staff from Centro Audiovisual Max Stahl Timor Leste (CAMSTL), another media partner of Trócaire’s. A total 45 interviews were conducted, 15 in each of the target aldeias of Rai Fatuk, Bour, and Gildapil. Efforts were made to interview equal numbers of men and women. Results and Findings Profile of Respondents Of the 45 respondents interviewed, 23 were men and 22 were women. The majority (66.67%) was between the ages of 21 and 50. Nearly a third of both genders had never attended formal schooling of any kind, and only 20% of all respondents had attended secondary school. The vast majority (73.33%) made their living from agriculture, and over half made less than $15 dollars a week. The most common native language was Kemak (64.44%) followed by Tetun (40.00%) and Bunak (31.11%). When asked what languages they were able to speak and understand well, the most common language was Tetun (97.78%), followed by Kemak (62.22%) and Bahasa Indonesia (53.33%). Only 15.56% of respondents indicated that they could speak Portuguese. More respondents were able to read Tetun and Bahasa Indonesia than other language, although 26.67% of respondents were illiterate, with a gender disparity between men (21.74% illiterate) and women (31.82% illiterate). Main Findings Due to the limitations of space for this paper, only the most pertinent findings of the survey will be presented below. For a complete set of the raw data for all 60 survey questions, please contact Trócaire’s Timor-Leste Country Representative Kathryn Robertson at [email protected]. Media Usage Respondents were asked a variety of questions about their media usage habits. Televisão de Timor Leste (TVTL), community leaders, Radio Timor-Leste (RTL), and word of mouth were all popular sources of information. However, when asked which media source was preferred (the most accurate and reliable), television (of an unspecified channel) was named by 60.00% of respondents, as compared to 4.44% who named community leaders and 4.44% who named word of mouth as a preferred source of information (see Tables 1 and 2). Table 1 – From what source do you get information? 2 Televisão de Timor Leste (TVTL) Community leaders Radio Timor Leste (RTL) Word of mouth (friends, family, etc) Indonesian Television Newspapers Text Messages (SMS) Internet 2 Frequency 26 23 21 17 10 9 5 0 Percent 57.78% 51.11% 46.67% 37.78% 22.22% 20.00% 11.11% 0.00% Respondents were able to give more than one answer. 250 Table 2 – What is your preferred source of information?3 Television Radio Word of mouth (friends, family, etc) Newspapers Community Leaders Other No Response Frequency 27 8 5 2 2 2 4 Percent 60.00% 17.78% 11.11% 4.44% 4.44% 4.44% 8.89% Respondents from Aldeia Bour, where BOCED installed a solar-powered television station in the information center, all indicated that TVTL was a source of information for them. These respondents were also asked how many hours of television they watched daily; the majority (60.00%) indicated that they watched, on average, three or more hours per day. Respondents from all three aldeias were asked about what kind of stories or shows they preferred; national current events was the most popular (75.56%), followed by international current events (24.44%). News shows vastly outranked entertainment, including movies (20.00%), music (15.56%) and sports (15.56%). Media Literacy Respondents were asked to name the most important national current event they had heard or read recently; the most commonly named current event was natural disasters (6.67%). Despite the preference for national current event news stories, 37.78% could not list a single national current event. Recall of international current events was even poorer; 64.44% could not list a single international current event, although 22.22% named the tsunami in Japan as a recent international current event. Respondents in Bour had the highest level of recall of both national and international current events. Use of BOCED Resources Respondents were asked how often they visited the BOCED information center in their aldeia. Daily use was highest in Aldeia Bour (66.67%), compared to 6.67% in Aldeia Rai Fatuk and 13.33% in Aldeia Gildapil, most likely due to the draw of the television access. Respondents were also asked what activities they participated in at the BOCED information centers. There was a marked difference between genders; men were more likely to read newspapers, participate in focus group discussions, and attend community meetings than women. However, women were more likely to watch television (36.36% versus 30.43% of men). Value, Accessibility, and Impact of Information Respondents were asked to rate the importance of information access in their aldeia on a scale from one to five, one being not important and five being very important. The overwhelming majority, 71.11%, rated the importance of information access as a five. No respondents listed the importance of information access as being below a three. Respondents were also asked to evaluate the change of access to information in their aldeia over time. The findings indicate that since BOCED began its programming, the accessibility of information about both current events and government services has improved. Across all three aldeias, 84.44% of respondents stated that it was easier to access information about current events and 91.11% stated that it was easier to access information about government services compared with three years ago. Interviewers asked respondents to evaluate the impact of media on their aldeia. Almost all respondents – 95.56% - stated that media had an impact on their community, and the same percentage described that impact as positive. No respondents indicated that media had a negative impact. Respondents 3 See footnote 1. 251 were then asked to describe the impacts. Below are some representative responses: “We are able to access information quickly about new things.” – Male, 55, Aldeia Rai Fatuk “We can understand better about the situation in our nation.” – Female, 26, Aldeia Gildapil “The community can understand the government’s work.” – Male, 43, Aldeia Gildapil Information and Government Accountability In order to measure the impact of information access on the community’s ability to access public services and hold the government accountable, respondents were asked a variety of questions about what sources they relied on for information about government services and also how they applied that information to their everyday lives. The findings show that isolated communities still rely heavily on personal contacts and face-to-face communication for information about government services, but that certain forms of media, especially television, are also important sources (see Table 3). Table 3 – From what source do you learn about government services?4 Government officials Community leaders Chefe Suco Chefe Aldeia Radio (unspecified station) Television (unspecified station) Newspapers Word of mouth (friends, family, etc) Frequency 7 7 7 6 6 13 2 3 Percent 15.56% 15.56% 15.56% 13.33% 13.33% 28.89% 4.44% 6.67% The majority of respondents – 71.11% - stated that they had used information from a media source to make a change in their community, and 82.22% said that information from a media source had motivated them to contact their government. When asked to give an example, most respondents said that they had approached their local government, including Chefe Sucos and Chefe Aldeias. A small number of respondents mentioned the specific issue they inquired about; those issues included pensions for the elderly and mosquito nets. Information and Election Participation In order to measure the impact of information access on the community’s participation in elections, respondents were asked a variety of questions about what sources they relied on for information about the voting process, candidates and parties. Voter participation was high across all three aldeias and both genders; 95.56% of all respondents stated that they had voted in the last local government (suco) election, and 93.33% of respondents from Aldeia Bour and Aldeia Gildapil stated that they had voted in the 2007 parliamentary election. The research findings indicate that media is not a significant source of information about the voting process, candidates, or parties. Respondents reported that they learned about the suco voting process primarily from officials from the government body Secretariado Técnico da Administração Eleitoral (STAE). Respondents learned about candidates and parties for the national election primarily from party campaigns. 4 See footnote 1. This question was open-ended, and answers are tabulated as they were given. Government officials, community leaders, Chefe Suco and Chefe Aldeia are not necessarily mutually exclusive answers. 252 Table 4 – Where did you get information about the [suco] voting process?5 Secretariado Técnico da Administração Eleitoral (STAE) Comissão Nacional de Eleiçiões (CNE) Campaigns Political Leaders Candidates Chefe Aldeia Chefe Suco Radio (unspecified station) Television (unspecified station) Frequency 24 3 7 2 3 6 8 3 1 Percent 53.33% 6.67% 15.56% 4.44% 6.67% 13.33% 17.78% 6.67% 2.22% Frequency Percent 7 1 18 1 1 2 1 1 1 2 2 23.33% 3.33% 60.00% 3.33% 3.33% 6.67% 3.33% 3.33% 3.33% 6.67% 6.67% Table 5 – Where did you get information about the candidates [for the 2007 national election]?6 Secretariado Técnico da Administração Eleitoral (STAE) Comissão Nacional de Eleiçiões (CNE) Campaigns Party Members Chefe Aldeia Chefe Suco Newspapers Radio (unspecified station) Television (unspecified station) Word of mouth (friends, family, etc) No response Conclusions The findings of this research have significant implications for media theory as well as policy and outreach in Timor-Leste. The interviews conducted during the course of this study demonstrate that the medium is extremely important in information dissemination. In isolated communities in Timor-Leste, where newspaper access is limited and illiteracy is high, television can have a significant impact on information access. The results of this study show that in BOCED’s target aldeias, television was the most preferred source of information, attracted the most respondents to the information centers, was more accessible to women than other mediums, and had the greatest impact on information recall. Watching television is also a communal activity that may strengthen community ties. As Raumeen Islam, the manager of Poverty Reduction and Economic Unit at the World Bank Institute states, “If just one person in a community or village has a television, many others will have access to it” (Islam 2002, 18). Another important finding is that isolated communities in Timor-Leste welcome information dissemination in their communities and view media as having a positive impact. Isolated communities recognize the correlation between an informed citizenry and government accountability and thus place high value on information. Although increased media reach surely has negative as well as positive impacts in Timor-Leste, including potentially detrimental levels of television use, rural Timorese seem to largely regard the advent of media as a positive development. This study also demonstrated that communities, once armed with information about public services, 5 6 See footnote 1. See footnote 1. 253 are empowered to demand these services from their government. This finding directly correlates increased information access with government accountability. The research also demonstrates that local government, including the Chefe Aldeia and Chefe Suco, is the first point of contact in isolated communities when demanding accountability. This finding confirms the research conducted by the National Democratic Institute (NDI) in 2003, which found that “East Timorese see the Chefe de Aldeia and Chefe de Suco as their key link with the government and world at large” (NDI 2003, 23). This study did not find strong impacts of media on voting habits. The statistics indicate that face-toface interactions with candidates, campaigns, and with government bodies such as the STAE are the main sources of information about the voting process and political platforms. In Timor-Leste, media is not yet a major driver in the political process. Overall, the findings of this research indicate many correlations and several potential causal relationships between media and information access and civil and civic engagement. Information access appears to have an impact on accessing public services and advocating for government accountability, but little impact on voting habits. These findings have powerful implications for the present and future role of media in community empowerment in the emerging democracy of Timor-Leste. Bibliography Besley, Timothy and Robin Burgess 2000a, Does Media Make Government More Responsive? Theory and Evidence from Indian Famine Relief Policy, The London School of Economics, London. --- 2000b, ‘The Political Economy of Government Responsiveness: Theory and Evidence from India’” The Suntory Centre at The London School of Economics, London. Brady, Cynthia and David G. Timberman 2006, ‘The Crisis in Timor-Leste: Causes, consequences and options for conflict management and mitigation’, USAID, Dili, Timor-Leste. Dooradi, Dicky and Eduardo Soares 2011, ‘Timor-Leste Communication and Media Survey’ in Malloch, Stephen and Marcio Kameoka (eds), UNMIT – United Nations Integrated Mission in Timor-Leste, Communication and Public Information Office, Dili, Timor-Leste. Islam, Roumeen 2002, ‘Into the Looking Glass: What the Media Tell and Why – An Overview’ in The World Bank (ed), The Right to Tell: The Role of Mass Media in Economic Development, The World Bank, Washington D.C. Mytton, Graham and Eduardo Soares 2007, Timor-Leste National Media Survey Final Report, Foundation Hirondelle, Dili, Timor-Leste. National Democratic Institute for International Affairs (NDI),2003, Government Within Reach: A report on the views of East Timorese on local government, Dili, Timor-Leste. Stromberg, David 2002, ‘Distributing News and Political Influence’ in The World Bank (ed), The Right to Tell: The Role of Mass Media in Economic Development, The World Bank, Washington D.C. 254 37 FITUN: A preliminary history of a clandestine movement Michael Leach1 The clandestine is a medium of struggle that consolidates subterranean forces against colonialism, to the final objective of national liberation and independence….a small group, consciously starting to consolidate and develop its force little by little until its transformation into a popular force….It is best to apply a struggle of a ‘semi-clandestine’ character, to separate the mass organisation from the small nucleus of an ultra-clandestine character, to secure the channel of communication to the armed front and the diplomatic front….If not separate, it is easy for the enemy to disrupt communication between the three fronts (‘FRS’, ‘Luta Clandestina’, 1990) 2 The East Timorese resistance to the Indonesian occupation comprised three wings: the military resistance of FALINTIL, the external diplomatic front, and the civilian clandestine movements in both the territory of East Timor and in Indonesia. Unlike the military and diplomatic fronts, which were dominated by the generation of 1975, the clandestine front was dominated by the Juventude: significantly younger than their compatriots, and educated for the most part under Indonesian rule. As Fernandes (2011, 125) notes, the civilian clandestine resistance has as yet been relatively neglected by historians.3 In assessing the multiple factors that led the success of Timor-Leste’s struggle for self-determination, the significance of major clandestine actions such as the Santa Cruz protest in 1991, the Pope’s visit in 1989, and the embassy occupations of the mid-1990s cannot be ignored. A number of these youth and student groups were of a clandestine or semi-clandestine character and contributed to the wider goals of making the territory of East Timor increasingly ungovernable. Notable groups included RENETIL, OJETIL, OPJLATIL, FECLETIL, FITUN, Student Solidarity Council, Sagrada Familia and others4. Some like RENETIL operated primarily in Indonesia, others within the territory of East Timor. Among the latter groups, Babo-Soares (2003, 59) lists OJETIL, FITUN and OPJLATIL as most important5. This paper focuses on one of these groups, Frente Iha Timor Unidos Nafatin ‘Always United Front of Timor’ known by the acronym FITUN (literally meaning ‘star’ in Tetun). Background: the evolution of resistance strategy By 1979 the initial phase of Fretilin led military resistance in the zonas libertadas had broken down, and was followed after the surrender of the civilian population. By the early 1980s the military resistance was reorganised into cells and there was no longer a sustainable broad front. While early clandestine groups started in the late 1970s as informal means of supplying aid to military resistance FALINTIL6, and getting information from mountains to diplomatic front, they evolved by the early 1990s to become a core strategy of the Commando da Luta (CAVR 2005, ch.5, 44). 1 Associate Professor in Politics and Public Policy, Swinburne University of Technology. Author’s translation. Original in Portuguese. 3 Exceptions include Chega! (CAVR 2005, Chapter 5 ‘Resistance structure and strategy’), Fernandes (2011), BaboSoares (2003) and Nicholson (2001). 4 See Nicholson (2001) for a useful overview of clandestine youth groups. It is worth noting that many of these groups had overlapping memberships. 5 Key acronyms used in this article are RENETIL Resistencia Nacional dos Estudantes de Timor Leste (National Resistance of East Timorese Students); OJETIL Organização da Juventude e Estudante de Timor Leste (Organisation of East Timorese Youth and Students); OPJLATIL Organisacão Popular Juventude Lorico Ass'wain Timor Leste (Popular Organisation of Timorese Youth Lorikeet Warriors); FECLETIL Frente Clandestina Estudantil de Timor Leste Clandestine Student Front of Timor-Leste. 6 FALINTIL’s “very survival” depended on clandestine networks (CAVR 2005, Ch.5, 45) 2 255 The importance of new forms of clandestine action, such as the protests at the visit of Pope John Paul II in 1989, discussed further below, ultimately had a big influence on Commando da Luta’s thinking about the overall focus of the Timorese resistance. This led to a shift towards a clandestine strategy in the towns involving a “combination of clandestine activity and civil disobedience” by elements of the civilian population (CAVR 2005, ch.5, 44). From 1990, the focus would turn towards demonstrations, civil disobedience, educating other youth and civilians, and ultimately other protests such as asylum seeking in foreign embassies. Reflecting these changes, by June 1990, the clandestine movements were placed under joint command of CNRM Executive Committee of the Clandestine Front, under the Secretary Constancio Pinto, and CNRM / Commander in chief FALINTIL, Xanana Gusmao (CAVR 2005, 44). At this point, the organisation of various underground groups improved dramatically and the clandestine front was divided into sections: youth and mass mobilisation, agitation and propaganda, study and analysis, information and security, and finance. FALINTIL increasingly became a political symbol of the resistance, less active in a strict military sense and more important as the command and coordination centre of the CNRM (Avelinho Coelho cited in CAVR 2005, 44). These clandestine groups would play a key role in key events such as the protests that preceded the infamous Santa Cruz massacre, which refocused attention on the world stage and greatly enhanced the capacity and effectiveness of the diplomatic front work to come to prominence. Critically, too, these groups demonstrated that the younger generation was as committed to independence as the previous: a hugely significant feat that demonstrated the essential failure of the Indonesian military-led project of integration. As the CAVR report notes, though clandestine groups were self-regulating on a day-to-day basis, major actions were coordinated by Commando da Luta, which sought to develop a coordinated strategy across the three fronts. Some however “maintained their individual relationships with FALINTIL commanders in the forests” (CAVR 2005, 44-5). FITUN was a key example of this. As CAVR (2005, 45) noted, FITUN was “established after the formation of the executive committee, operated independently and maintained direct relations with the Chairman of CNRM/ Commander FALINTIL, Xanana Gusmao”. This remainder of this article is based primarily on an extended interview with one of FITUN’s leadership group, Elizario Ferreira, supplemented as relevant with additional interview material from OJETIL leader Gregorio Saldanha, and RENETIL leader Jose Neves7. Background Elizario Ferreira traces his own family’s involvement in the independence struggle to a well-documented uprising in Suco Atara in Atsabe, Ermera against the Liurai Guilherme Gonsalves in the late colonial era8. The harsh working conditions imposed by the Liurai were challenged by some 70 villagers in a Portuguese court in Dili in 1963. By 1970 the villagers had succeeded and had become an independent Suco, with Ferreira’s father playing a key role in events. His own political consciousness was first roused as a young teenager in the 1980s. The Commando da Luta based in east was seeking to reactivate the resistance in the western sector (later Região 3). FALINTIL commander Venancio Ferraz was responsible, and sent an estafeta (messenger) to Atara. Among others, the estafeta contacted Elizario, then 13, and the Chefe de Suco, his father’s cousin. The Chefe agreed that the village would help provide food to FALINTIL by planting fields in the mountains.9 Elizario recalls: 7 Interview with Elizario Ferreira conducted with the author 1 March 2010. At the time of interview and of writing, Ferreira was a FRETILIN member of the National Parliament. Interview with Gregorio Saldanha conducted 2 March 2010; with Jose Neves 4 March 2010. 8 For more information on this conflict see Molnar (2006) 9 The Chefe said “whatever… food you find up there you can take to eat. Just don’t pull out the roots of the cassava so it can continue to grow. If you find potatoes, eat them, beans, eat them so you can survive but don’t come into the village because we now live with the enemy” (Ferreira interview, 2010). 256 At the time I didn’t really understand what it meant to join the resistance, to be involved in the clandestine movement or how to ‘do’ politics. That was in ’86….So when I went down [to Dili], I hung out with a group of young people in Kuluhun. We began to organise a small group. When we set up this group there were 49 of us, 49 people who would become part of the organisation called FITUN. Origins: SAFARI FITUN started with a small group of 49 students at junior high school; originally known as SAFARI and using the Indonesian acronym ‘Saya Anak Fretilin Anti-Republik Indonesia’ [I am a child of Fretilin against the Republic of Indonesia]. One of these members was Elizario Ferreira, who would later become a key leader. A critical moment of political development came through an intervention from the very top of the resistance hierarchy: Xanana Gusmao had heard news of a student group in Kuluhun who opposed the Indonesian occupation. In December 1986 several members of SAFARI met with Xanana Gusmao in Kablaki ranges: Seven of us went. We are all alive today. When we got there, people were talking politics we didn’t understand a thing about politics! We just sat staring at each other, we didn’t understand politics. They taught us… Katuas [Xanana Gusmao] said to us: “Politics, nationalism, has to come from you, it must start with your small group. Not everybody can know about it. One or two people can come and see me, not a crowd. If not people will find out about our struggle”. At this early stage the group would collect money, clothes or medicines for FALINITL. According to Ferreira, not even their parents knew what we were doing: “we were not yet part of the resistance, just people at the top knew what we did.” As with OJECTIL, one directive to the young group was to get involved with Church activities. The role of political education For a group of young Timorese with little political education, the meetings with Gusmao were electrifying. But these were irregular, and a more fundamental role in political education was played by other clandestine operatives, particularly people from the Externato, the sole Portuguese language school in Dili, set up to educate those who would ultimately leave for Portugal. Ferreira recalls in particular the role of Gregorio Saldanha of OJETIL, and older and more politically literate members of the group that would become FITUN, such as Marito Mota. So, we said to each other, when you meet with these people [those from other schools or with higher education] you have to ask them: “What is a statute? What is a vision? What is an objective? What does clandestine mean…?” It was essential for us to ask other people about the meaning of these four things. After such meetings, the younger students would meet at night to discuss what they had learned and commenced writing the statutes. The occasional visits to the military resistance in the mountains continued, leading to the first major action FITUN participated in. Tasi Tolu The visit of Pope John Paul II in October 1989 was a critical moment for the overall strategy of the Timorese resistance, leading to a move within the territory to a primary focus on the clandestine resistance in the towns. This was also a signal moment for the Indonesian administration, shortly after opening the territory to outsiders, as a high profile and smooth visit would suggest great progress toward integration. The presence of foreign guests and media at this event further heightened the significance. The Commando da Luta issued instructions for a demonstration to be organised to highlight the ongoing struggle for self-determination. At this time Elizario and other members of FITUN were part of a 257 Keamanan (security group) in Becora parish, an organisation similar to the scouts. Taking advantage of their authorised role as extra security for the Pope’s visit, and with meticulous preparation, the group were able to organise a protest after the mass. The overall leader of this action was Luis Barreto, now sub-district administrator of Kristu-Rei. He was aided by Ferreira, in charge of the operational side, along with Jose Manuel, and Aleixu da Silva Gama, also known as Alex Cobra10. Xanana came down from Kablaki, he stayed in Dili …about a week. When the day came, the Indonesian military LAPISAN had tight security. That week at Tasi Tolu… only those of us in charge of security wearing blue uniforms didn’t have to show what we were wearing underneath… the Indonesian’s didn’t open our shirts… So the banners we would use in the demonstration, we sewed them inside our vests. Every day we had to go and practice our role, from the 1st to the 11th … It was to be a massive event, with some estimates holding that 200,000 people from all over East Timor had arrived. The Indonesian military remained unaware the extra ‘security’ provided internally by the Church, and wearing blue uniforms, were planning a protest. As planned, the protestors awaited the end of the Mass and the Pope’s blessing before the protest commenced. In their possession were also letters for the Pope from the Bishop and Priests. Ferreira recalls: The place was full of high-level military. Many people started arriving on foot from all the districts of East Timor. The spirit of the Timorese began to take shape, became alive there. When the Mass was over everyone thought the Mass had been a success, even the Indonesians. Once the final blessing was made we took the banners out from under our shirts and jumped on the altar and made the protest, trampling over whoever was in the way. …. People were confused, they didn’t understand what was going on … there were almost 200,000 people in Tasi Tolu. So people just began fighting until in the end they detained many people. Despite the many arrests that followed, the future FITUN members were not exposed. Nonetheless, they had to report daily to authorities as a result of ‘failing’ in their job as part of parish-based security. Ferreira attributes the relatively light consequences, compared to others who arrested the same day, to the influence of the Priest from his parish who had contacts with the DANREM. Though the protest was relatively small in scale, the symbolism of this public protest on the world stage was felt strongly in the resistance hierarchy, effectively ending the enforced isolation of the territory, and highlighting civilian support in the ongoing struggle for self-determination. Ferreira recalls that it was at this time that Xanana then gave the group their name, declaring at their next meeting: “Your organisation is now called FITUN, Frente iha Timor Unidos Nafatin. Return to your members, may you become many like the stars in the sky and grains of sand at the shore” 11. For Ferreira the success of this action marks not only the formal birth of FITUN, but also the first sign he was aware of a clear change in strategy from the Commando da Luta. So after this we went back to the mountains to make an evaluation. When we arrived Xanana congratulated us because this meant that lots of young people would become involved. Nationalism had stirred among the young people. This was the first time we heard this policy: “Younger brothers and sisters, the struggle is no longer in the bush. The struggle in now in the towns. You have started this struggle”. 10 Cobra was later a key leader of OPJALTIL. See Nicholson 2001, 56. Ferreira notes that an earlier group had the same name: “FITUN existed prior to ’83… an older generation established FITUN in Dili during the 1970s. We just re-established the name FITUN. The old FITUN didn’t exist anymore…”. 11 258 Juramento Political education was a cautious process, preceded by extensive cultivation of potential members to assess the likelihood of security risks to the organisation. Once selected, clandestine members went through various rituals that drew significantly on both the traditional Timorese practice of juramento (usually a process that takes place in alliance between clans), and also on the symbols and practices of Catholicism12. As Nicholson (2001, 21) notes, FITUN was formally established in the Kuluhun area of Dili on 20 April 1990 by forty-nine youths in a midnight juramento in Santa Cruz, including a flag raising ceremony and a mixing of blood. Ferreira offers some details on the ceremony: The original group of 49, we took an oath [juramento] at Santa Cruz… late at night we went and prayed, we wore rosaries and went to pray, then we cut our hands. At the time the best drink in Timor was called ‘Diplomat’. Fourteen of us we cut our hands and let the blood run into to bottle of whiskey. Once it was mixed in, we drank and swore: “Live or die, we will fight for independence”. When our new members came, before they became members they had to draw their blood into the bottle, the original bottle from the first time, mix the blood, pour and drink. We kept the whiskey in Marito Mota’s house. This bloodbrother oath was firm: “If they arrest you, they arrest me, you die, I will die with you.” That’s the oath we took ... We kept the same bottle right up until ’99 when it broke, destroyed in a house fire. Structure, membership and recruitment The operational structure of FITUN had three levels. At the peak was a council, consisting of Bonifacio Magno, Oscar Lima (now both members of Fretilin Central Committee) and Joao Barreto. At the operational level, FITUN had an initial president, before a major split in the organisation (see footnote 16), along with vice-president Marito Mota, and two secretaries: Ferreira’s cousin Anacleto Bento Ferreira and Elizario himself, who had a dual role in charge of ‘agit-prop’. The third level was the general membership. At its peak it claimed to have had a general membership of 39,000 (Nicholson 2001, 21), though the core group based in Dili was clearly much smaller. Like other clandestine groups, FITUN established a ‘kaixa’ system of cells. This structure, as Ferreira explains it, clearly reflected the ‘semi-clandestine’ structure described by ‘FRS’ – with a small, ultra-clandestine leadership and a wider mass membership of affiliated members, contacted through smaller groups. it wasn’t as if we called for big meetings.… there was a coordinator in every district. Our system of education was based on pendidikan berantai. It was like this… when a group of cadre met; members of this group would then go and meet with other groups. So one group would go and meet with the next, right down to the suku level. A system of recruitment targets created an expectation that each member would recruit another into the clandestine network. Such recruitment often occurred through the networks of the Church and their youth activities, and through schools. One recruitment strategy was one employed more widely by other clandestine groups such as RENETIL (Interview, Jose Neves 2010): seeking to turn individual grievances into a national political consciousness, for example, by actively recruiting family members of those mistreated by Indonesian military. Agitation and Propaganda ‘Agit-Prop’ elements of the clandestine movements had several roles. One was simply to transmit information, including letters or recordings from the resistance in the mountains throughout, or beyond the territory, or to circulate foreign news stories about East Timor. They were also involved in coordinating civil disobedience campaigns, aimed at making the territory ungovernable. One such action was the attempt 12 As Fernandes notes (2011, 129), these practice reinforced a sense of Christian identity. This was especially so with RENETIL who had strong connections with Christian communities in Indonesia’s eastern archipelago. 259 to disrupt the Indonesian general elections of June 9, 1992. FITUN members we were told to tear up people’s electoral registration cards, burn the electoral registration posts, and to encourage a boycott of the elections. More broadly, agit-prop’s role was aimed at countering the Indonesian military’s own strategy of setting East Timorese groups against one another. Ferreira explains: The Indonesians were also implementing a dual-strategy. One of the Indonesian policies was ila kawin sila [interracial marriage]. This was seen as a policy of Islamisation. The Indonesians sent women over to marry Timorese men, or they would encourage young men or young women to become Muslim. With a view to setting up a situation where Muslims would fight Christians. The other Indonesian policy of ‘divide and conquer’ was to divide the youth into different groups so that they could pit one group against another. SGI Satuan Tugas Inteligen – sought to use the youth and were very dangerous at that time. This was a deliberate strategy of destabilisation. In response, FITUN and other clandestine groups implemented a strategy to counter these policies. These counter strategy also had a dual character. On the one hand, they sought to promote unity among Timorese youth: “we had to continue to agitate inform, support the youth so that they wouldn’t turn against each other.” On the other, FITUN and other groups engaged in agit-prop to disrupt the Indonesian administration and spread confusion. As Ferreira and others note, one of the most critical events in occupation history was in part of product of this counter strategy: every day we would make pamphlets, how we would make things up! For example, now we are getting to the point, if we take the pamphlet we made which eventually led to the events of November 12 1991. That was the result of a pamphlet… ‘Anti-Islamisation’ While working closely with the Church, (with whom OJETIL and FITUN maintained good relations through the Scout movement) some clandestine groups sought to maximise participation and promote secular nationalism to maximise membership13. Nonetheless the clandestine movement also used affiliations with Catholic Church to maximise popular mobilisation, and work to destabilise the Indonesian administration. A key example is the prelude to Santa Cruz massacre. The cancellation of a scheduled visit by Portuguese parliamentary delegation led to increased tensions between independence activists and Indonesian authorities. At this time, as part of a wider strategy to maximise disorder, OJETIL and FITUN activists spread the word that an attack on nuns and convents was imminent. A pamphlet was circulated widely throughout East Timor, and proved quite influential in mobilising youth. As Gregorio Saldanha put it “sometimes we had to make false propaganda to achieve our objectives. Bit sometimes you run risks, you can encounter many, big risks.” Ferreira recalls: We asked all young East Timorese to go and provide security for the churches, convents and priests houses. Because the Indonesian military is planning to attack the priests and attack and rape nuns. When we spread this word, sent out this appeal, many people went to provide security to the Church in October. When the young people went to the Church, it created a feeling of heightened tensions. At night the youth guarded the Nuns… then on the 28 October Sebastião was killed in Motael. And Sebastião’s death led to the events of the 12th November. That was the pamphlet we sent out. We were reacting to the policy of Islamisation, that’s why we issued that pamphlet. That’s how it happened. 13 An important example was the shift from OJECTIL Organisacão da Juventude Catolica de Timor Leste (Organisation of East Timorese Catholic Youth) to OJETIL. As Gregorio Saldanha (interview March 2 2010) notes, this change was made because “we know that Timor is not only for Catholics, but we are open to the other religions like the Muslims or Buddists so we wanted to be open for all people.” This move was supported by instructions from Xanana, Mau Hudu and Mau Hunu, though some students continued to use the acronym OJECTIL. 260 The death of Sebastião Gomes 14 led shortly afterward to the major protest now known as the Santa Cruz massacre of November 12 1991, which would put East Timor firmly back in international headlines. Three questions from Bishop Belo One story from the prelude to the Santa Cruz massacre demonstrates the close relationship between the Catholic Church administration and the clandestine groups. On the night of the 9 November 1991, several members of clandestine groups went to speak to Dom Carlos Belo. Maria Dias’s younger sister Joana, Liurai Tasi, L4 and me15, we went to see the Bishop to ask him if he would say the Mass at Motael. We asked him if he would say mass he was taken aback: “How many people do you plan to bring to this mass?” We told thousands: because we included Sagrada Familia, FITUN, RENETIL, OJETIL. We told him we planned a mass at Motael and then from Motael walk along the road, praying and singing all the way to Santa Cruz. … once we had laid flowers at the grave we would make a demonstration at Santa Cruz. Ferreira recalls that the Bishop was surprised, and began pacing around his yard with his Rosary, thinking. He then asked three questions of his young visitors which still resonate strongly with those present twenty years later. The Bishop was supportive, but tested the young activists with a series of questions. The Bishop asked us ‘If Timor becomes independent, if you lose your hands or your feet, if you are not able to govern, if the well-educated children of those who support integration rule over you… how will you feel?’ After he asked us this question he walked a little, then he returned and we replied: ‘Father we want Timor to be independent’. So then he asked us another question: ‘What if you are disabled and nobody will employ you, rule over you, and don’t acknowledge you?’ We replied we were prepared to accept that. Finally he asked ‘what about those who are now overseas, their children have gone to good schools, those who today support the Indonesians, who don’t want to participate in the struggle? What if they come and rule over you, and don’t look after your families after you are dead?’ We told him that we were prepared to live with the consequences…. Ferreira recalls that as the mass was planned for Motael, Bishop Belo told them to ask the Motael Priest Father Ricardo do the mass, offering to do it himself if Ricardo refused. Despite his reservations, Father Ricardo agreed, “since there are so many of you I am ready, I am ready to die for you.” Santa Cruz Along with OJETIL and others, many FITUN members took part in the demonstrations 12 of November now known as the Santa Cruz massacre. So, when Sebastião was killed. We all got together and got ourselves organised. The organisations that gathered were OJETIL, Sagrada Familia, FITUN, RENETIL. Those were the main promoters. We chose Giri [Gregorio Saldanha] as the coordinator because he had political experience and he was from the Externato. And, OJETIL was established before FITUN, it came out of the Externato. Several of those in positions of responsibility in the clandestine organisations, particularly those in agitation and propaganda, travelled out to the districts on the afternoon of the 11th to encourage young people to 14 See Fernandes (2011, 89) for details of this incident. ‘L4’ is the brother of the well-known former guerrilla commander, now UNDERTIM leader, ‘L7’. Liurai Tasi was an OJETIL leader. 15 261 come down to Dili. Ferreira was among these, travelling up to his home district of Ermera to mobilise people. The plan, as reported by Ferreira, involved a coordinated strategy for attendance: People had to carry rosaries and had to wear three shirts… a ‘Loriku Aswain’ [‘Lorikeet Warriors’] shirt for the procession, under a proper shirt for mass… then just in case they had to run away or there were problems in Santa Cruz, to have another neutral t-shirt to run away and hide with… The information was passed on word by mouth. At the time, there was something we called ‘politika corrente’ [‘running politics’]. All we had to do was say something today, and tomorrow all of Timor knew. Ferreira would never make it to Santa Cruz himself. After arriving in Ermera on the 11th he was arrested and held until the 28th November, after which he was refused permission to return to Dili, and sent to his home suku of Atara. Later strategy So after the demonstration [Santa Cruz], the leadership of the resistance organisations broke-down and the Indonesians had the upper hand again in Timor. Many people were taken away. Many people were put in jail. People were afraid. In the wake of Santa Cruz, clandestine operations became extremely difficult, with mass arrest of clandestine activists both inside the territory and within Indonesia (Fernandes 2011, 101). On the other hand, the level of world engagement with East Timor increased dramatically after Max Stahl’s massacre footage made international headlines. The clandestine movements thus had increasing covert contact with western journalists after Santa Cruz, and through the 1990s. The long years of internal resistance and international solidarity slowly began to bear fruit, aligning also with the fall of the Soviet bloc and a weakening of the cold war ties that sustained much of the international support for the Suharto regime. For FITUN activists, one new focus after Santa Cruz was the ‘Youth Cross’ campaign, which provided a cover for a territory-wide strategy of political education for youth. Under the banner of the Church, and hence tolerated by authorities, the clandestines: organised a Youth Cross in March and after Easter… when we took the cross from one parish to the next. We would all have Mass together, then organise a seminar for the youth… but the seminar programme was political. Every time a seminar was held it turned into a demonstration. Following a major split in FITUN in 1991, occasioned by Indonesian intelligence infiltration16, the remaining key leaders of the group then known as ‘FITUN–resistencia’ – including Marito Mota and the Ferreira cousins - were frequently picked up and detained and beaten whenever any major events or demonstrations took place, or were expected. Ultimately, in November 1992, FITUN was formally banned by the Indonesian authorities and forced to publicly dissolve itself in an event covered widely in the Indonesian press (see e.g. Jawa Pos 1992) 17. As the ETAN news service (1992) noted “its leaders have 16 Though it cannot be addressed at length in this short article, a dramatic split in the FITUN group occurred on 20 August 1991, when, according to the rest of the group, a key leader (unnamed in this article) was turned by Indonesian intelligence. The remaining leaders of the group, including Marito Mota and the Ferreira cousins were invited to a FITUN conference in Taibesi, at which Indonesian military figures were present, and asked to choose between the Indonesian Flag, the RDTL flag and the Fretilin flag. The former leader publicly chose the Indonesian flag. The rest of the group left the meeting, returning to Kuluhun to form a new group ‘FITUN-Resistencia’, electing Marito Mota as the new President and Elizario Ferreira as secretary. All of the well-known members of the ‘FITUN-resistencia’ group were arrested shortly afterward. 17 ‘The East Timorese youth in the organization Fitun which aided the Fretilin security disrupters and planned various demonstrations in East Timor officially dissolved itself Sunday evening in Dili. An official statement of dissolution and oath by members of Fitun was read out and then immediately signed by its General Chairman Mariano [sic] 262 been forced to recant publicly in obviously insincere acts of contrition. The Army is apparently reluctantly to arrest more than a small proportion of this network -- and perhaps still unable to do so”. As the 1990s progressed, the increasing importance of the clandestine front in the overall resistance strategy saw increasing political education conducted by the armed resistance So, Falintil they came down from the mountains they went to every suku and conducted political education at suku level. Preparing people, so that when the referendum came they would be politicised. We were prepared… from 1992 onwards. This went on until they captured Mau Hudo, Mau Huno… the resistance continued and FITUN was still strong, we had strong links with Falintil… until… CNRT was established. In the lead up to the 1999 referendum, FITUN was placed under the Presidium Juventude Lorico Ass’wain Timor Loro Sa’e (Presidium of Youth Lorikeet Warriors) umbrella organisation for youth movements in April 1999 (de Araujo, 2003, 104) which coordinated activities with CNRT throughout 1999. At this time, in the pre- and post-referendum violence, male members of FITUN were told to stop attending school so that they could guard their neighbourhoods at night (Nicholson 2001, 46-7). Conclusion As Fernandes (2011, 125) notes, the history of the clandestine front movements, and their “vital yet often unacknowledged role” in the independence struggle is yet to be fully documented18. It is to be hoped that a new generation of East Timorese historians will approach this task, and build on – and perhaps correct – the early attempts made by external historians, and the relatively few East Timorese accounts made following independence (Pereira 2009, de Araujo 2003, Babo-Soares 2003). It is also the case that the critical contributions of the clandestine resistance are yet to be fully recognised in the history curriculum and memorial landscape of the independent state (Leach 2009). Though November 12 it is a national public holiday, there is as yet no monument at Santa Cruz, and the extent of the juventude’s contribution tends to be neglected in the relative domination of military veteran’s issues and histories in post-independence politics. As Gregorio Saldanha recalls, the clandestine phrase “If not now, when? If not us, then who?” captured the courage and determination to mobilise a national consciousness among the juventude, whose rejection of Indonesia’s occupation in some ways stung harder than the resistance of the older generation, striking as it did at the heart of the entire forced integration project. Bibliography de Araujo, Fernando 2003, ‘The CNRT campaign for Independence’ in Fox, James J. and Dionisio Babo-Soares (eds), Out of the Ashes: Destruction and Reconstruction of East Timor, Canberra, ANU E-press, pp.99-116. Babo-Soares, Dionisio 2003, ‘Political developments leading to the referendum’ in Fox, James J. and Dionisio Babo-Soares (eds), Out of the Ashes: Destruction and Reconstruction of East Timor, Canberra, ANU E-press, pp.53-73. CAVR 2005, Chega! The Report of the Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation, Timor-Leste, Dili, Fatubai Mota, 22, and witnessed by Commander of Military District (Kodim) 1627/Dili Lt. Col. (Infantry) Syarifudin Zein, religious figures, and local community figures. They swore to dissolve, not to form a new organization with the same guidelines as Fitun, and to join the youth organizations legally approved by the government and unified state of the Republic of Indonesia based on Pancasila and the 1945 Constitution. “We take this oath consciously and motivated by the faith of our religious community. If we violate this oath, then we accept religious sanctions, customary law sanctions, and the sanctions of the unified state of the Republic of Indonesia,” Mariano [sic] said loudly.’ (Jawa Pos 1992). 18 “The juventude… made enormous contributions and sacrifices. They bore the brunt of the Santa Cruz massacre and were captured, interrogated, tortured, imprisoned or killed for their convictions. … It is my hope that this rich historical vein will be mined extensively in the years ahead.” Fernandes 2010, 125. 263 The Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR). Ferreira, Elizario 2010. Interview with author, 1 March. ‘FRS’ 1990, ‘Luta Clandestina”, Timorese Resistance Archive and Museum, Document number 07191.034 http://amrtimor.org/docs/?lingua=en ETAN 1992, East Timor Documents, Volume 19. November 30-December 11, www.etan.org/etanpdf/timordocs/timmas17a 92-12-11.pdf, viewed 29 May 2012. Fernandes, Clinton 2011, The Independence of East Timor: Multi-Dimensional Perspectives – Occupation, Resistance and International Political Activism, Brighton, Sussex. Jawa Pos 1992, ‘Banned East Timorese organization (Fitun) dissolves self’, 17 November, original in Indonesian, www.etan.org/etanpdf/timordocs/timmas17a 92-12-11.pdf, viewed 29 May 2012. Molnar, A. K. 2006, ‘Died in the Service of Portugal': Legitimacy of Authority and Dynamics of Group Identity among the Atsabe Kemak in East Timor,’ Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 37: 335-355. Neves, Jose 2010, Interview with author, 4 March. Nicholson, Dan 2001, The Lorikeet Warriors: East Timorese new generation nationalist resistance, 1989-99, Bachelor of Arts (Honours) Thesis, Department of History, the University of Melbourne, October. Pereira, Nino 2009, Catatan Seorang Peompat Pagar, RENETIL, Dili. Saldanha, Gregorio 2010, Interview with author, 2 March. 264 38 Women’s Activism in Timor-Leste: A Case Study on Fighting Women Hannah Loney1 Whilst much attention has been drawn to Timor-Leste’s twenty-four year struggle for independence from Indonesian military occupation, there is a paucity of scholarship which describes the roles that women played in the struggle. Widely endorsed, national narratives of resistance tend to glorify the efforts of male guerrilla fighters,2 or focus predominantly on the contrubutions of prominent male resistance fighters and international figures, such as Xanana Gusmão, Bishop Belo, Mari Alkatiri and José Ramos-Horta.3 Such methods of representation have been useful in internationalising Timor-Leste’s struggle, establishing a strong sense of national unity, and in cultivating a global solidarity movement which contributed to the withdrawal of Indonesian troops in 1999. However, there is little space within such a discourse to portray the everyday life of the movement, or the experiences of its women. Within most accounts of the struggle, women’s experiences are treated as a side-issue to the wider nationalist movement and the unfolding story of Indonesian oppression.4 Literature which does engage with women’s experiences tends to portray them predominantly as victims of mass human rights violations,5 or focuses on women’s nurturing or feminised roles in relation to the struggle.6 Whilst these texts constitute a necessary inclusion to literature on TimorLeste’s path to independence, such tendencies prevent the inclusion of women within national narratives of heroism and sacrifice, and present only a partial story of their experiences of occupation and resistance. This paper therefore seeks to present an alternate story of women’s experiences of the Indonesian occupation, by exploring their active participation in the armed front of the resistance: an element of their involvement in the struggle which has thus far been neglected or under-represented. The paucity of womencentred documentary material on the struggle, as well as patriarchal and traditional perceptions of the roles of women, has perhaps prevented extensive discussion of women’s involvement in this front in the past. Oral testimony will therefore be used quite extensively within this assessment, in an attempt to counter such neglect by shedding light on women’s lives as they themselves experienced them. In writing about TimorLeste’s past, oral testimony constitutes a unique and valuable source for broadening the scope of narrative voice, and for recovering the perspectives and experiences of female fighters in particular, whose voices are not often heard. Several collections of oral testimony have been collated in recent years which are particularly gender-friendly, and this paper will draw quite extensively from several of these accounts.7 1 PhD candidate in the School of Historical and Philosophical Studies, Faculty of Arts, University of Melbourne. The epitomic text here is the new Constitution of the Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste, glorifying the heroic struggle for national liberation. See Section 11: Valorisation of Resistance, Constituent Assembly of East Timor, in the Constituent Assembly of East Timor, Constitution of the Democratic Republic of East Timor, English translation, 17 April 2002, http://www.constitution.org/cons/east_timor/constitution-eng.htm, viewed 1 March 2012. 3 See, for example, Xanana Gusmão 2000, To resist is to win! : the autobiography of Xanana Gusmao with selected letters & speeches, ed. Sarah Niner, trans. Jose Luis Perestrelo Botelheiro, Ana Norunha and Palmira Pines, Aurora Books with David Lovell Publishing, Richmond, Vic.; and Arnold S. Kohen 1999, From the Place of the Dead: The Epic Struggles of Bishop Belo of East Timor, St Martin's Press, New York. 4 Some historical works which demonstrate elements of gender exclusion include James Dunn 1983, Timor: A People Betrayed, The Jacaranda Press, Milton; and Bill Nichol 2002, Timor: A Nation Reborn, Equinox Publishing, Jakarta. 5 See Commission for Reception, Truth, and Reconciliation in Timor-Leste (CAVR) 2005, Chega! The Report of the Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation in Timor-Leste, CAVR, Dili. 6 See Christine Mason 2005, ‘Women, Violence and Nonviolent Resistance in East Timor,’ Journal of Peace Resistance, 42(6): 737-749; and Emma Franks 1996, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor: The Centre, as They Say, Knows Itself by the Margins,’ Women’s Studies International Forum, 19(1-2): 155-168. 7 See Rebecca Winters (ed) 1999, Buibere: The Voice of East Timorese Women, East Timorese Support Centre, Darwin, N.T.; Michele Turner (ed) 1992, Telling: East Timor, Personal Testimonies 1942-1992, New South Wales University Press, Sydney; Jill Jolliffe and the Association of Prisoners of East Timor (AESPPOL), Living 2 265 These rich and relatively untapped sources of information will be analysed alongside written documentary material, such as contemporary news media and solidarity bulletins, obtained through extensive archival research within both Australia and Timor-Leste. This paper will initially provide an outline of the ideology of FRETILIN (Frente Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente or the Revolutionary Front for an Independent East Timor) in 1974, which created a great window of opportunity for East Timorese women to step outside their traditional roles played and spaces occupied, and to engage in all fronts of the resistance. The difficulties in actualising such notions of equality will be analysed, particularly in the context of armed combat. The readiness of some women to fight if they were required will be emphasised, alongside the training in guerrilla tactics received by some women. This paper will put forth the view that FALINTIL (Forças Armadas da Libertação Nacional de Timor-Leste or the Armed Forces for the National Liberation of Timor-Leste) commanders were very hesitant for women to actually engage in armed conflict and to physically signify women as combatants, particularly if there were men readily available to fight instead. Whilst female fighters were not common during the struggle, there were cases of women joining FALINTIL, fighting as ordinary soldiers, and even some women leaders that are remiss in most accounts of the struggle. Women also provided invaluable behind the lines support for the guerrilla fighters, and this paper will touch on the types of activities in which women engaged in support of the armed resistance. Women’s contributions to the armed struggle have existed on the periphery of accounts of the resistance, and they are often absent within public forms of memory and commemoration. Their absence is demonstrated most explicitly by the fact that there is only one public site in Timor-Leste that commemorates the role of women in the struggle.8 This paper therefore attempts to distance women from the discourse of victimhood and passivity in which they are most commonly situated within accounts of this period, by exploring some the various ways in which women participated in the armed front of the resistance. This study therefore aims to reposition women as active agents within the resistance, and to open up new ways of understanding the way in which the struggle was fought that are more attuned to the roles of women. In 1974 when FRETILIN articulated a new vision for Timor-Leste, women and gender equality were at the centre of their plans for national unification without sexual discrimination (CIET 1974, 1). A women’s arm of FRETILIN, the OPMT (Organização Popular da Mulher Timorense or Popular Organisation of Timorese Women) was brought into being after the Civil War in August 1975 to facilitate women’s participation in the struggle and to fight general discrimination against women (Bonaparte 1975, 7). The organisation’s secretary, Rosa ‘Muki’ Bonaparte, released a statement in 1975 which outlined her proposition for women’s roles with regards to combat: Timorese women, as active participants in the revolution, also participate in battle in full affirmation of their dedication to the cause of liberation of the exploited and oppressed of our country. It is incredible that in a country where more than 50 per cent of the population consists of women, that they would not take part in the liberation struggle. To participate in combat does not just mean to take up arms, though this is superior. The participation of Timorese women in the fighting takes various forms: gather information about enemy movements, their fighting potential, and so on (Bonaparte 1975, 7). Within this statement, Bonaparte stresses the logic of women’s involvement in the armed front as a manifestation of their commitment to national liberation. The actualisation of such ideals to involve women in all fronts of the resistance was however not easy, particularly the incorporation of women into the armed front. Then member of the FRETILIN Central Committee and Commander-in-chief of FALINTIL, Rogerio Lobato, encapsulates such hesitancy in a 1978 interview with a special correspondent of ETNA, emphasising the gap between creating political ideals and changing prevailing attitudes: Memory Project 2011, Southeast Asia Digital Library, http://sea.lib.niu.edu/inst/living.html, viewed 1 March 2012; Jude Conway (ed) 2010, Step By Step: Women of East Timor, Stories of Resistance and Survival, Charles Darwin University Press, Darwin, NT. 8 This is the Jardim Rosa Muki Bonaparte (Rosa Muki Bonaparte Garden) in Dili. 266 Many people cannot understand that women should take up arms against the Indonesians. They see women as only in traditional roles; looking after the house, rearing children, and so on. But women form half the population and they must be involved in the struggle on all fronts, including the armed struggle (East Timor News 27-28 March 1978, 5). Despite the gender-inclusive nationalism promulgated by FRETILIN, Lobato recognises that perceptions of women’s traditional roles in society may create obstacles in translating such ideas of gender equality into practices on the ground. There is evidence to suggest that many women were however ready and willing to take up arms if need be, attesting to their courage and determination to be actively involved in all fronts of the resistance. Despite his hesitancy to act on such desires, former FALINTIL Commander-in-Chief, Xanana Gusmão, acknowledged that ‘there were courageous women ready to render such high service to the nation’ (Gusmão in Niner 2009, 49). Clandestine leader, Constâncio Pinto, similarly claimed that women were prepared ‘to use weapons when necessary’ (Pinto 2007, 49). From the perspective of women, there appears a sense that their readiness to fight was conflated with an embodied commitment to national independence. Mana Bisoi, who was a female fighter with FALINTIL, insisted that women ‘can be as patriotic as men’ (Bisoi in Cristalis et al 2005, 40). There are also reports of groups of women actually going to FRETILIN Central Committee representatives to demand weapons and offer themselves as fighters, such as that observed by Jill Jolliffe in 1976 (Jolliffe 1976, 17), which further attests to the readiness of women to engage in armed conflict. Many women travelled with FALINTIL fighters, and whilst assisting in more traditional support roles, many were trained in guerrilla strategies as well. Margarida Gonçalves, who retreated with her family and other guerilla forces to the jungle after the invasion, describes being trained to disassemble and reassemble rifles, to load bullets and operate rifles, as well as to make gunpowder and hand grenades (Gonçalves in Abrantes et al 2010, 14). Madalena Bi Dau Soares, an OPMT member, tells of similar training experiences and notes that there were ‘a significant number of women’ with such skills (Soares in Abrantes et al 2010, 39). She also describes being taught how to conduct an ambush, and how to shoot when engaged with the enemy ‘in order to kill them’ (Soares in Abrantes et al 2010, 39). Despite such training, however, women were often not called upon to fight unless men were not readily available to do so, demonstrating a clash between political rhetoric and practice. FRETILIN founder and former President, Francisco Xavier do Amaral, told in an interview with Sofia Ospina about a female fighter, Maria Tapo, who was taught by her husband to use a machine gun, yet it wasn’t until her husband was killed that she took over his gun and died defending herself in 1975 (do Amaral in Ospina 2006, 22). Within this account, Maria demonstrates a strong survivor instinct and sense of utility. Xanana Gusmão explained that FALINTIL command did not want women carrying weapons; telling them: ‘If we all die, you can, but for now, let us’ (Gusmão in Cristalis et al 2009, 121). Often, it was only when the male guerrillas were sick, wounded, in dangerous situations, or security was needed during an ambush, that the commander would authorise for the women to carry a weapon (Gonçalves in Abrantes et al 2010, 14). Madalena Bi Dau Soares recalls being told that it would only be that ‘if all the men die, women [would] have to carry weapons’ until independence was achieved (Soares in Abrantes et al 2010, 39). Such testimony reveals that national liberation remained an overarching goal to be achieved at all costs, yet an established gender hierarchy still operated within the armed front of the resistance. The prioritisation of men within the FALINTIL structure extended to more practical privileges as well. Mana Bisoi describes the unavailability of military clothing to many fighters, recalling ‘we were lucky to possess two changes of clothes each’ (Bisoi in Cristalis et al 2005, 40). Clothing was often taken from deceased Indonesian soldiers, which were first given to the male FALINTIL, in part because they fitted better, but also because ‘the men, especially the commanders, did not want to give us [the women] uniforms’ (Bisoi in Cristalis et al 2005, 40). This account demonstrates the discomfort of FALINTIL command with signifying women as combatants.9 That some women participated in conflict as ordinary 9 For further discussion on this, see Cynthia Enloe 1983, Does Khaki Become You?: The Militarisation of Women’s Lives, South End Press, Boston, Mass. 267 soldiers or ‘arma branca’ (Gusmão in Turner 1992, 129) – not members of FALINTIL but still engaged in combat – advances the notion that there was hesitancy to include women within the FALINTIL structure, though they could perhaps engage in conflict if there was no other alternative. There were cases of women fighting alongside men during combative situations. These were, however, more likely to be groups of ordinary soldiers as opposed to members of FALINTIL. For example, a report published in an international support newsletter in 1982 in Australia stated that ‘over 200 East Timorese, including some women, were involved in an attack on Indonesian forces north of Lacluta in March this year’ (Timor Information Services 38 September/October 1982, 2). The women were described as having ‘a strong spirit of resistance’, and emphasised the competence of the female fighters (Timor Information Services 38 September/October 1982, 2). In addition, Mária de Fátimo Pinto was part of a group involved in an assault on Dili on 10 June 1980, and then went on to lead an attack herself on Dili (de Fátimo Pinto in Abrantes et al 2010, 59). Though rare, there are other reports which tell of the establishment of women’s army brigades and units under female command. An Australian Council for Overseas Aid (ACFOA) Report from 1975 mentioned a women’s army unit of 100-strong under a woman commander that had formed (ACFOA 1975, 9). The military unit was also mentioned in an Australian solidarity newsletter as fighting in the front lines of the border battle against Indonesian attack (National East Timor Winter Mobilisation 15-16 July 1977, 3). In 1976, José Ramos-Horta reported that the first woman’s army detachment of 100-strong led by a woman commander was receiving ‘full military training’ near the border village of Tapo, though this may have been the same group (International News n.d, n.p). Ramos-Horta states that the women had ‘played a heroic role in defending their village’ by driving ‘off an Indonesian attack and captured some of their weapons, while the village men were away fighting in the Batugade-Balibo area’ (International News n.d, n.p). Ramos-Horta describes women within glorified language of national struggle, yet notes that the women defended the village only because the men were fighting elsewhere. These accounts are however rare; stories of women’s participation in the armed front tend to focus more on the support and auxiliary roles of women, as opposed to their direct engagement in armed combat. OPMT in particular, functioned as an organising mechanism to facilitate women’s support for the guerrilla fighters. Many women were involved in organising supplies for the guerrillas, providing them with food or shelter. Former political prisoner and OPMT member, Genoveva da Costa Martins talks of meeting with OPMT members to plan and collect food, medicines and clothes to send to the guerrilla fighters (da Costa Martins in Living Memory Project). Elizabete Lim Gomes, an East Timorese woman now living in Melbourne, recalls how her grandmother supplied FALINTIL with dry foods and dry medication (personal communication, 22 September 2010). Domingas Coelho commented in an interview for TAPOL that women were often required to liaise between FALINTIL, FRETILIN and the clandestine network (Coelho in TAPOL June 1991, 13). Such communicative functions were of critical importance to the resistance. Therefore, whilst not engaging in direct combat, many women still provided behind-the-lines assistance. To view guerrilla warfare as simply composed of those fighting on the front lines therefore, is to disregard the integral preparation and support provided by many women and to misconstrue how the resistance effectively operated. Most accounts of Timor-Leste’s struggle for independence tend to under-represent the involvement of women. Accounts which engage with women’s experiences tend to portray them solely as passive victims and bystanders. This paper has attempted to counter such trends by drawing attention to one particular aspect of women’s involvement which has been left out of most accounts of the struggle, that being their participation in the armed front of the resistance. Though there are only a few accounts of women who actively engaged in armed conflict, women were a central force behind the armed front, which held out against the occupying Indonesian army for such a considerable period. The inclusion of women’s experiences adds a necessary dimension to recent East Timorese history. Personal narratives and oral accounts in particular, tell a viable and important story of the invasion and occupation, and deserve a special place in the telling of women’s history in Timor-Leste. I argue that a more pronounced feminist perspective needs to be employed in East Timorese resistance literature, so as to open up new ways of writing and understanding the past, and to insert new perspectives into the nation’s narrative of resistance. 268 Bibliography Abrantes, Laura Soares and Beba Sequeira 2010, Secrecy: The Key to Independence: It’s better to have no title than to have no nation, Dili, Blue Mountains East Timor Sisters. Bonaparte, Rosa 1975, “Women in East Timor: Statement by Popular Organisation of Timorese Women,” translated by Ines Rodriguez, 18 September 1975, Direct Action, 4 March. CIET, ‘What is FRETILIN?’ 9 December 1973, translated by FRETLIN members, CIET, Sydney. Conway, Jude (ed) 2010, Step By Step: Women of East Timor, Stories of Resistance and Survival, Charles Darwin University Press, Darwin NT. Cristalis, Irena and Catherine Scott 2005, Independent Women: The Story of Women’s Activism in East Timor, Catholic Institute for International Relations, London. --- 2009, East Timor: A Nation’s Bitter Dawn, (2nd ed), Zed Books, London and New York. Dunn, James 1983, Timor: A People Betrayed, Milton, The Jacaranda Press. East Timor News: Bulletin of the East Timor News Agency, 27-28 March 1978. Franks, Emma 1996, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor: The Centre, as They Say, Knows Itself by the Margins’, Women’s Studies International Forum 19.1-2: 155-168. Gusmão, Xanana 2000, To Resist is to Win!: The Autobiography of Xanana Gusmao with selected letters & speeches, edited by Sarah Niner, translated by Jose Luis Perestrelo Botelheiro, Ana Norunha and Palmira Pines, Richmond, Vic., Aurora Books with David Lovell Publishing. Jolliffe, Jill 1976, ‘Scenes from East Timor’, ANS 56, 4 May. -- and the Association of Prisoners of East Timor (AESPPOL), Living Memory Project, Southeast Asia Digital Library, http://sea.lib.niu.edu/inst/living.html, viewed 16 April 2010. Kohen, Arnold S. 1999, From the Place of the Dead: The Epic Struggles of Bishop Belo of East Timor, New York, St Martin's Press. Mason, Christine 2005, ‘Women, Violence and Nonviolent Resistance in East Timor’, Journal of Peace Resistance 42(6): 737-749. National East Timor Winter Mobilisation 1977, Sydney, CIET, July 15-16. Nichol, Bill 2002, Timor: A Nation Reborn, Jakarta: Equinox Publishing. Niner, Sara 2009, Xanana: Leader of the Struggle for Independent East Timor, Australian Scholarly Publishing, North Melbourne. Ospina, Sofi and Isabel de Lima 2006, ‘Participation of Women in Politics and Decision Making in TimorLeste: A Recent History’, Dili, United Nations Development Fund for Women (UNIFEM). Personal communication with Elizabete Lim Gomes, 22 September 2010. Pinto, Constancio and Matthew Jardine 2007, Inside the East Timorese Resistance, University of Queensland Press, Lucia, Queensland. Scott, Catherine and Milena Pires 1984, ‘East Timorese Women: The Feminine Face of Resistance’ in Torben Retbøll (ed), East Timor: Occupation and Resistance, International Work Group on Indigenous Affairs Document, Copenhagen, pp. 141-152. Sissons, Miranda E. 1997, From One Day to Another: Violations of Women’s Reproductive and Sexual Rights in East Timor, East Timor Human Rights Centre, Melbourne. TAPOL: The Indonesian Human Rights Campaign 105, June 1991. Timor Information Services 38, Carlton: September/October, 1982. Turner, Michele 1992, Telling: East Timor, Personal Testimonies 1942-1992, New South Wales University Press, Sydney. (Vic): A1991.0152 Communist Party of Australia. Victorian State Committee. Melbourne: University of Melbourne Archives, 1990-1989. Winters, Rebecca 1999, Buibere: The Voice of East Timorese Women, East Timorese Support Centre, Darwin. 269 39 The impact of policy on language and learning: the experience of teachers Marie Quinn This paper reflects on the impact of educational policies on the experience of teachers in Timor-Leste and teachers’ ability to make decisions in regard to language and learning. Early national goals identified education as a priority (ETPC 2002), influenced by the global pressures of commitment to the Millennium Development Goals (UN 2010), particularly centred on universal primary education and Education for All policy (UNESCO 2000). These have formed a basis for the nation’s educational policies since 2002. The current strategic plan for Timorese education identifies the national vision: In 2025 the population of Timor-Leste will be educated, knowledgeable and qualified to live a long and productive life, respectful of peace, family and positive traditional values. All individuals will have the same opportunities to access to a quality education that will allow them to participate in the economical, social and political development process, ensuring social equity and national unity (ME 2011, 10). Alongside general education goals has run the government’s Language in Education (LiE) policy. Such policies exist where “the state takes over the task of socialisation from families” (Spolsky, 2004, 46), socialising children into the uses of official languages – this case, Portuguese and Tetum – through the provision of education to the young. LiE policies are concerned with the distribution of power and opportunity through the provision and access to various languages through schooling. This discussion looks at how these polices in Timor-Leste have been identified and managed, shaping teachers’ and, ultimately, students’ experiences of learning. To focus on the experience of the classroom, Davis’ (1994) framework for analyzing policy through the lenses of policy intent, policy implementation and policy experience will be used, with the focus on this last element to track the influences on classroom experience. An earlier discussion of LiE policy in Timor-Leste articulating language and learning goals (Quinn 2007) will be referenced as a detailed discussion of intent and implementation. Policy intent The earlier survey (Quinn 2007) noted that the government of Timor-Leste, through its educational agency, the Ministry of Education (ME)1, defined policy intent through a number of documents produced after independence. In terms of LiE, however, the policy was confused, suggesting that education sought to ‘speed up the reintroduction of the official languages – Portuguese and Tetum – at schools’ (MECYS 2004a, 5) while also directing that ‘the implementation of Portuguese will have precedence’ (MECYS 2004a, 8), reducing Tetum to merely a symbolic language, rather than one that would enact curriculum goals (Taylor-Leech 2009). Since 2007, the place of particular languages has shifted within educational documents, significantly strengthening the place of Tetum. The Base Law for Education (Law 14/2008), states: ‘The teaching languages of the Timorese education system are Tetum and Portuguese’ (Article 8). The influence of recent work by the National Education Commission (KNE) in regard to the use of the multiple first languages (or mother tongues) that exist in the country is appearing within policy, seen in the Council of Minister press release concerning the third phase of the National Curriculum: ‘In addition to the official languages, the diploma also stresses the importance of making use of the national languages’ (RDTL 2011). 1 This ministry has undergone several name changes since 2002: Ministry of Education, Culture, Youth and Sport (MECYS), Ministry of Education and Culture (MEC) and the current Ministry of Education (ME). These names will be reflected in the document references, but ME will be used throughout to denote the ministry itself. 270 This statement supports the aim of the KNE’s comprehensive strategic plan to implement first languages into Timorese schools (KNE 2011). Policy implementation Early ME documents identified various goals in terms of implementation: to ‘Emphasise development of both languages in the context of practical day to day life situation’ and ‘ensure the effective mastery of both the national languages, both oral and written skills’ (MECYS 2004b, 27). However, little activity has occurred to realise these goals, with training for teachers centred on learning the Portuguese language in formal and academic modes (see Shah 2011). Despite the place of Tetum within policy documents, little support has been provided for Tetum language training with the large-scale Tetum training of 2005 not repeated. The 2007 discussion (Quinn 2007) also noted the lack of understanding of the language and literacy – and bilingual/biliteracy – needs of students. The distinction between language needs and literacy needs, in either of the schooling languages, has not yet been addressed, with no further advice as to how the ‘both oral and written skills’ will be interpreted. Currently, few written resources in either language exist in schools and rarely in bilingual modes, particularly with the demise of the Lafaek magazine in 2010, the only language resource widely available in the country that also served wider community literacy needs (Heyward 2005). A similar situation exists for teaching resources: the goal to ‘develop didactic materials either in Portuguese or in Tetum’ (MECYS 2004a, 8) has been realised only in some curriculum areas (largely mathematics, Portuguese language, Estudo do Meio/social sciences) and not across all year levels. Few resources have been dedicated to creating comprehensive sets of materials in any language to support both language and general learning. While the National Curriculum guides for all subjects were delivered to teachers in late 2007, with a strong focus within the training on using bilingual approaches to assist students to access curriculum content2, further training and support beyond the two-day orientation has not been offered across the system for all teachers. While curriculum support materials were originally produced in both official languages, subsequent teachers’ guides for subjects have also only been produced in Portuguese, adding to the difficulty in teachers understanding how to enact the curriculum. The development of The Competency Framework for Teachers (ME c2010) has identified competencies in Portuguese and Tetum “in all language modes (speaking, listening, reading, writing)”, providing an impetus to orient the training to assist teachers to reach competency levels in terms of the LiE policy. However, this framework has not been implemented to orient training or evaluation. Teacher experience While these policies outline intent and implementation, the question remains about how teachers are making decisions specifically about language use in the classroom. This was the basis for data collected during 2006 from Timorese classrooms. This research captured the classroom talk during ten lessons and teachers’ subsequent reflection on their own practice as shown in the video recordings of the lesson. Teachers commented on their own decision-making within the teaching moment. While this data was gathered from a limited number of sites – five schools and eight different teachers, in various settings of upper primary – the data provides insights into how teachers draw upon both policy and their own understandings of the community and classroom environments to make LiE judgments. 2 The author was employed by UNICEF and situated within the ME to coordinate and write all training material for the National Curriculum distribution to teachers in Grades 3 – 6 in October/November 2007. All training materials were rendered in the two national languages and trainers were free to choose the language most effective in each setting. Grades 1 and 2 materials had been distributed in previous years. 271 The influence of National Goals Teachers expressed strong support for what they perceived was the national LiE policy. Teachers could articulate the place of Portuguese and Tetum within the Constitution as their reason for using these languages in the classroom, but at times echoed the ME’s emphasis on Portuguese over Tetum as classroom languages. Yes, it [teaching/learning Tetum] is important. This is an approved language as national language and Portuguese as official language. It is indeed important for the students. Artur, Baucau rural ...according to the onstitution Portuguese is now as the official language with Tetum, so I teach and use both of them. Alexandre, Lautem town Rather than using the languages equally, Margarida explained the allocation of languages in the classroom: Because in the curriculum, children should know Portuguese at around 75%, and Tetum 25%. Margarida, Dili This percentage breakdown – used by other teachers in differing amounts – can be traced back to the implementation document (MECYS 2004b, 17) that stipulated the number of hours the languages as curriculum subject were to be taught. While this was not designed to orient language use in the classroom per se, this particular message has prevailed in teachers’ minds3 and is widely understood as a pattern of languages that students should know. This allocation of languages was reflected in the analysis of overall classroom talk, across all lessons observed and all speakers. Portuguese was used for 64% of the words spoken, Tetum for 34%. Thus, while teachers’ comments suggested the importance of both languages, Portuguese took precedence over Tetum. The differing status of languages is further shown through closer analysis of language function in the classroom. Most of the talk (67%) was used for presenting curriculum content and of this, Portuguese was used primarily for presenting in formal modes with Tetum used for the explanatory talk. However, for other classroom functions of managing the classroom and interpersonal talk, Tetum had precedence, particularly – and sadly – for the functions of telling students that they were mistaken or insulting/berating students. This is discussed below in looking at classroom language use. What is salient here is that the actual practice of “both languages” is not “equal” and has consequences for the way these languages function in the classroom. Community factors In attempting to enact the policy of using Portuguese in the classroom, teachers were aware of the language context of their students and the various languages in the community and that this was the general experience in all communities. Some speak Makasae, some Naueti, some Waimu’a and some only speak Tetum at home. Here we have about three or four languages that people use at home.... I think Makasae is the biggest, because here the majority are Makasae children. Guilhermina, Baucau urban This all, not only these in this school, it’s everywhere around Timor. I recognise that the children only learn Portuguese in the class but outside they do not speak it.... In the community they use language depending on the language in the family. 3 This was a common misunderstanding of teachers and Ministry staff in personal communication while working with the National Curriculum distribution, with the hours of instruction quoted as the hours of language use. 272 Marta, Baucau urban Since it is common for teachers to belong to the same language group as their students, these first languages provide a resource to assist students to make new curriculum meanings. This principle is at the heart of the Mother Tongue-Based Education policy (KNE 2011), to access learning in the shared language of students and teachers. However, teachers in the 2006 sample showed resistance to the use of these languages: In Baucau, here our school does not use Makasae. Tetum (is used) because now Tetum is the official language with Portuguese so we prohibit speaking Makasae. Tetum is spoken for all learning. Marta, Baucau urban This “prohibition” on the use of first languages was echoed by many teachers and similar sentiments are found in other settings. Shameen (2004) reported that Fijian teachers identified English-only over local languages as the appropriate choice for classrooms and Brunei teachers reported feeling “uneasy” or “guilty” using unsanctioned local languages (Martin 1996, 139). What are deemed as appropriate languages for schooling in Timor-Leste is reflected in teacher practice, and, as members of the community, the values of the wider community. Indeed, Alexandre suggested the view of the weakness of Tetum: For them here, Tetum is passive. But our language is still poor, so we need to teach things with Portuguese. Alexandre, Lautem town This view of Tetum as a language unable to sustain the functions of academic and public life formed the basis for early language debates as Timor-Leste moved toward independence (see Eccles, 2000, versus da Silva 1999, Herrera c. 2004). In terms of first languages, the only use that teachers would concede for these was as a “last resort”. Rudolfo outlined a hierarchy of the languages available to access the curriculum content. When they don't get me speaking Portuguese, I would switch to Tetum. If they still don't get Tetum, I must use Fataluku so that they understand what we are teaching and they can learn more..... Rudolfo, Lautem rural Thus, teachers made decisions based on the perceived worth of a language as fit for education, balanced with the practical role that a language could play. Throughout these discussions, it should be noted, teachers never articulated any aim to strengthen language skill, of any language. Language was, instead, a means for understanding other content. This has particular implications for classroom use. Classroom use In observing teaching practice within classrooms, Portuguese was constructed as the higher status language of formal teaching with Tetum as an aid, reflecting the ME documents of the time. The main strategy that teachers used was translation: starting instruction in Portuguese a number of times before translating into Tetum so that students could access the material. I use both Tetum and Portuguese to explain so that students understand. Like square I should also say that in Tetum after Portuguese so that students know what is that. Guilhermina, Baucau town This strategy ensured that students understood, for example, the dimensions of the square in mathematics. However, teachers displayed little understanding about how concepts might be presented through particular languages or how to build mathematical language in Portuguese or Tetum. This was further complicated by the fact that all blackboard work – the main means for note-taking – was rendered entirely in Portuguese. Thus, Portuguese remained mainly in written modes, Tetum in oral, providing little support to learn either language comprehensively. 273 What was apparent was that teachers distinguished between “teaching” as an activity using Portuguese and “explaining” as an activity using Tetum. I use all [both languages], teaching with Portuguese, but explaining with Tetum. Marta 1: Baucau, town When explaining must open with Tetum so they can begin to think in order to know. Artur: Baucau, rural Interestingly, Artur suggested here that by “opening” in Tetum, he wanted students to understand the concept in a familiar language before moving to the unfamiliar. Unfortunately, there was no evidence of this in Artur’s observed lesson: Tetum was used largely for translation of Portuguese. How teachers make the decisions about when to move into particular languages was largely dependent on teachers’ perceptions of students’ needs. Several teachers explained how they watched and noticed when students did not understand, as Alexandre explained: … when I taught there were one or two students who did not quite understood when I had used several ways. In this sense we might know that we have to explain them with Tetum. Alexandre, Lautem town Using this method requires teachers to be attuned to the students and their language learning, yet teachers were not able to articulate many understandings of how language made meaning in their classrooms. Margarida suggested some degree of student agency in language use: Because they are the one who ask. They said, I do not understand this question. … That is why they asked me to explain it in Tetum so that they could understand. ... Margarida, Dili However, while Margarida was the only teacher to attempt to make meaning in two languages, providing models of questions and answers in two languages and allowing students to answer using their choice of language, the practice of students requesting a language was never observed in the lesson. She, herself, made all decisions about languages. The diglossia found in Timorese classrooms is similar to other educational settings, where official, high status languages have been “performed” in particular ways to enact curriculum and “off-stage” languages used for explaining content and other classroom functions (eg. Arthur 1996; Camilleri 1996; Hornberger & Chick 2001; Lo Bianco & Liddicoat 1991; Ndayipfukamiye 1996). However, in these cases, it is usually an official (European) language which is the mandated language of schooling with the unofficial language the shared language of teacher and students. In Timor-Leste, both Portuguese and Tetum are identified in the Constitution and weakly by the ME as co-official languages, yet this strong hierarchy exists and teacher practice re-iterates the relationship between the languages. One impediment to strengthening Tetum is the de facto policy enacted through the provision of materials in Portuguese, orienting teacher practice: So when most of the materials coming are in Portuguese we need to teach by using Portuguese, and if in Tetum then we can use Tetum. But in the reality the majority of the books are in Portuguese, and therefore, we need to teach with Portuguese. Alexandre, Lautem town As with the findings of Shah (this volume), teachers here indicated that they were reliant on what the ME provided to guide teaching. The same reliance can be extended to training: while this remains only about learning Portuguese, it fails to address issues of how to use languages to teach the curriculum content and the official languages themselves. 274 Conclusion The data showed that, while teachers agreed with the policies of the government, they were unclear on implementation, seen in the inconsistent ways in which policies were understood and used in various classrooms. In view of current changes to LiE policy, giving more prominence to Tetum in the curriculum, it is difficult to see how teachers will be able to make this change in their practice. The current National Strategic Plan for Education 2011-2030 (ME 2011, 48) notes that “teachers need further support to fully implement the curriculum”: it is hoped that this will address the considerable support teachers require to understand the place that language plays in creating knowledge and how literacy, and this case, biliteracy, will be fostered. Currently, there is little evidence that teachers are aware of their language practice except as a tool for translating curriculum and translating languages. Rudolfo’s comment on viewing his own lesson and asked about the reasons for language switches indicates little linguistic awareness: “But I didn’t realize that I was speaking Tetum or Portuguese”. Ultimately, it is the consciousness of language - how language makes meaning, how languages work together and how students can use languages to “participate in the economical (sic), social and political development process” (ME 2010, 10: see Vision, in introduction) - that will be critical for the development of an education system and a nation. Bibliography Arthur, Jo 1996, ‘Code switching and collusion: classroom interaction in Botswana primary schools’, Linguistics and education, 8: 17-33. 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Martin, Peter 1996, ‘Code-Switching in the primary classroom: one response to the planned and the unplanned language environment in Brunei’, Journal of multilingual and multicultural development, 7(2): 128-144. Ministry of Education (ME) c. 2010, Competency framework for teachers in Timor-Leste, ME, Dili. --- 2011, The National Education Strategic Plan for the period of 2011-2030, ME, Dili. Ministry of Education, Culture, Youth and Sport (MECYS) 2004a, Education policy document: draft for parliament approval, MECYS, Dili. Ministry of Education (ME) 2008b, Building our nation through quality Education: National Education Policy 2007 – 2012, ME, Dili. Ndayipfukamiye, Lin 1996, ‘The contradictions of teaching bilingually in post-colonial classrooms: from Nyakatsi to maisons en etage’, Linguistics and education, 8: 35-47. Quinn, Marie 2007, ‘The challenge of realising language and literacy goals in East Timorese schools’, in Kingsbury, 275 Damien & Michael Leach (eds), East Timor: beyond independence, Monash University Press, Australia. pp. 251-262 Republica Democratica Timor Leste (RDTL) 2011, Press Release: Council of Ministers meeting of June 15, 2011, [email protected], viewed 18 June 2011. Shah, Ritesh 2011, ‘It takes two (or more) to tango? “Partnerships” within the education sector in Timor-Leste’, International Education Journal: Comparative Perspectives (forthcoming) Shameen, Nikhat 2004, ‘Language attitudes in multilingual primary schools in Fiji’, Language, culture and curriculum, 17(2):154-172. Spolsky, Bernard 2004, Language policy, Cambridge University Press, UK. Taylor-Leech, Kerry 2009, ‘The language situation in Timor-Leste’, in Current issues in language planning 10 (1): 168. United Nations (UN) 2010, Millennium development goals http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/ , viewed 16 October 2010. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) 2000, The Dakar framework, education for all: meeting our collective commitments, World Education Forum, Dakar, http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001211/121147e.pdf, viewed 16 October 2010. 276 40 Timorese teachers as agents for change or replicators of the past? Ritesh Shah One cannot be secure in one's actions...without at least some idea of what one does, why, and to what end (Freire 1998, 43). Introduction In the 21st century, a schooling experience that is accessible, relevant and of quality is seen as essential for development of the individual, and society as a whole. This is particularly salient for countries such as Timor-Leste coming of centuries of colonialism and a recent history of conflict. Education in this context occupies a vital restorative and transformative role within the still nascent state and nation. According to the country’s National Education Plan, the post-independence schooling experience aims to be, “a necessary utopia indispensable to humanity in the pursuit of peace, freedom and social justice…leading to a more harmonious, more authentic development, in order to reduce poverty, social exclusion, incomprehension, oppression and war” (MoE 2007, 3). Recent years have seen significant educational policy reform, in an attempt to achieve this ambitious vision. A significant amount of responsibility for building this new Timor-Leste has been thrust onto the shoulders of individual teachers. The National Education Policy notes that, “teachers are the mediators between a world in constant change and the students who are about to become a part of it” (RDTL 2008, 6). Nonetheless, research has shown that in periods of significant education reform, teachers often attempt to reconcile new policy discourses on their roles, purpose and function, with longstanding images and beliefs of teaching established through historical and cultural precedence (Ball and Goodson 1985; Day 2002). In this process of creative mediation what results are contradictions and paradoxes between teachers’ espoused beliefs and ideas, informed by the new language of reform, and strongly institutionalised practices and norms (Barret 2008; George, Mohammad and Quamina-Aiyejina 2003; Osborn, McNess, Broadfoot and Pollard 2000). The research presented in this paper substantiates such claims within the context of TimorLeste’s primary classrooms. It provides evidence of the chasms that exists between what Timorese basic education aspires to be and what is currently occurring inside classrooms, and between teachers’ espoused beliefs about their practice and what they actually do. Methodology In this paper, interim findings from five months of research carried out in 2010 as part of the author’s ongoing doctoral research at the University of Auckland are shared. Fieldwork commenced1 in April 2010 with the administration of a survey2 aimed at providing a broad scale overview of the beliefs, motivations and perceptions of practice of a large cross-section of Timorese primary teachers. It was administered to 719 teachers over three weeks in April 2010 while they were participating in the cursos intensivos.3 Teachers from seven different districts participated in this aspect of the research. 1 Prior to the commencement of fieldwork, ethical approval was sought from the author’s university, and research permission granted by the Ministry of Education, Timor-Leste. 2 A total of 81 statements, originally written in English and later translated into Tetum, were included on the survey, with teachers responding to these statements on a four-point Likert like scale from 1 (strongly disagree) to 4 (strongly agreed). 3 These compulsory intensive training courses have been operating since 2008 for all under/unqualified teachers. Each course operates for three weeks, during school holiday periods in April, July and December each year. 277 Classroom observations were conducted in a mixture of urban and remote schools in Dili, Ermera and Manatuto districts between March and May 2010. An unstructured observational technique known as Global Scan was chosen to allow for documentation of classroom activity and teacher/student action; while simultaneously annotating the researcher’s own perceptions of the events occurring in situ (Zapeda 2009). At the completion of the observations, a post-hoc collation and analysis of teacher actions across each of the 42 classrooms was done using a Ministry developed observation schedule (MoE 2009c). Focus group and school director interviews occurred at the end of fieldwork in Timor-Leste (May/June 2010) in nine different schools in Dili and Ermera districts. In each of the focus groups conducted, teachers participated in a set of activities aimed at soliciting responses4 on: (1) what they believe to be the qualities of a professional teacher; (2) the purposes of learning for the children they teach; (3) the strengths and weaknesses of their particular school; and (4) causes and remedies for students who are struggling in school. School directors were interviewed separately, with similar themes and issues being explored. A total of 38 teachers and seven school directors were interviewed as part of the research. Research Context In 2004, a new primary curriculum was released for the first six years of schooling.5 The aim behind this new curriculum was to to create a more contextualised, relevant, active, and integrated learning experience for children (see for example MoE, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010; UNICEF & World Bank, 2005). Teachers were expected to shift their practices towards constructivist and differentiated methods of instruction, given the curriculum’s overall intent of promoting democratic, inclusive and child-centred classrooms (MECYS 2004). The curriculum also reinforces the utilisation of the country’s two official languages (Tetum and Portuguese) and introduces new content areas specific to Timor-Leste’s culture, history and geography (Shay 2012). Between 2004 and 2007 all primary teachers were presented with this new curriculum through inservice training ranging from three to nine days in duration. Lacking in this early implementation process were mechanisms of ongoing professional support (MoE 2009a; World Bank 2009). Recent efforts have attempted to redress some of these early deficiencies through passage of a new Teacher Career Regime, ongoing and complusory short training courses for teachers, and new mechanisms of local support and accountability for teachers (RDTL 2010, 2011a). Nonetheless, there has been little research to provide direction on whether these efforts have led to changes in teacher beliefs or practices about teaching and learning. However, the common belief remains that “teachers need further support to fully implement the curriculum,” and that they continue to struggle with teaching content and learner-centred teaching practices (MoE 2010, 28-9). Research Findings Building the nation In conversation with the focus group teachers, strong consensus existed that teaching was founded on a duty and obligation to contributing to the development of future citizens. Some entered into teaching specifically with this purpose in mind, but almost all teachers saw this as a critical aspect of their current role in the classroom. As one teacher6 described, You have to gain knowledge, morals and respect for each other as a result of going to school…it is about forming good citizens. If there is no knowledge there is no respect, and it raises conflict between 4 To protect participant confidentiality and anonymity, quotes utilized in this paper [all indicated by italics] lack identifying details, other than the location and date of the focus group and/or interview. This information is noted through footnotes throughout the text. 5 This curriculum was intended for Grade One through Six, now known as Cycles One (Grades One through Four) and Two (Grades Five and Six) of schooling. In 2011, this reform was extended to Cycle Three. 6 Dili, 15.5.10 278 neighbours and others…knowledge when learned in school is spread eventually through the entire community and it helps to make our nation stronger. This also resonated strongly with teachers’ responses to items on the survey. The majority of teachers either agreed or strongly agreed with items relating to the roles of schooling in developing democratic and active citizens, which appeared to be aligned with the government’s transformative vision of education. Figure 4 – Teacher responses to statements about schooling's role in developing citizens Statement A teacher should help their students to see the need for changes in their community A teacher's job is to ensure that students become leaders that change their community The purpose of schools is to prepare future citizens Strongly disagree (n=) Disagree (n=) Agree (n=) Strongly agree (n=) 14 62 320 308 41 85 302 279 6 13 195 492 However, these responses were contradicted by teachers’ views in focus groups regarding the type of citizen they hoped their students would become. Teachers often described their role as forming children who would fit in rather than challenge the rules of society. A good citizen, as identified by many of the teachers interviewed, was an individual who ‘follows the rules of society’. Through analogy, one teacher7 described his students as, “…young seedlings that need to be trained to grow straight,” countering that, “If you don’t put these seedlings straight when they are little, they will grow to be bent and twisted.” Given the purpose and aims of schooling during Indonesian occupation such attitudes may not be unsurprising. The Suharto regime utilised schooling in Timor-Leste, as in elsewhere in the territory, to legitimate its rule and indoctrinate citizens in the one nation pancasila ideology (Bjork 2002). Authors have labelled the curriculum underpinning this ideology as, “serving the purpose of control” (Nicolai 2004, 44), and “amount[ing] to cultural indoctrination and an attempt at genocide” (Caroll and Kupczyk-Romanczuk 2007, 67). These historically informed beliefs about citizenship and the place of students in classrooms and broader society lead to practices that counter the discourse of reform.8 According to one teacher,9 what occurs is that, Teachers talk at the students from the time they enter until the time they leave. When teachers act like this, it doesn’t allow for the ideas that are contained in students’ heads to be expressed. Or in the words of another teacher,10 “the students just sit there as statues.” This was commonly observed in the classrooms visited. In general, only four of the 42 teachers observed provided opportunity for students to contribute their opinions or ideas as content was being discussed. Questioning, when utilised, was mainly closed11 in nature, and little opportunity was given for students to think, discuss, or provide 7 Ermera, 27.5.10 For example the Basic Education Curriculum Decree Law (2011 Art 5h) specifies that, schooling experiences should, “provide eexperiences that encourage civic, social and emotional maturity, the creation of attitudes and habits tending towards cooperation, as well as independent action, conscientious action, and self-responsibility in the areas of family, community and environment, all aimed at training for full and democratic citizenship” 9 Dili, 11.5.10 10 Ermera, 26.5.10 11 Closed questions are ones with one correct answer. Conversely, open questions are ones that may have multiple possible responses that are appropriate. Quinn’s (2010) research provides further detail and reinforces these findings 8 279 feedback into the learning process. Quinn (2010) in her analysis of patterns of language usage and function in primary classrooms came to similar conclusions, identifying that the majority of instructional time is spent with teachers talking at the students, with less than 10% of classroom time providing students with opportunities to speak in any form. All of this, stood in the way of fostering what one teacher coined “democratic freedom” through education. According to her,12 “teachers need to act in a way that encourages students to think independently and make their own choices…[giving] them all opportunities to become a good person in the future,” particularly if a more active vision of citizens is to be fostered in schools. Another teacher in the same focus group firmly believed that teachers needed to put more emphasis on getting children to, “…develop their own minds, their own consciousness to know what is right and what is wrong. A teacher should help develop in students a sense in them of where they want to be heading, with the idea that maybe there are many paths to go down.” Beacons of the community Amongst the focus group participants, a number of teachers described how a member of the clergy had often influenced their decision to enter into the profession, and many cited a former priest or nun as a role model of good teaching.13 This heavily influenced teachers’ beliefs regarding what function or purpose a teacher served in the communities they taught in. They often associated their function as similar to the clergy, and described themselves as being role models and exemplars for their communities to follow.14 One teacher15 portrayed himself as a “lighthouse”, or a “centre of attention for the rest of the community to follow.” Variations on this perception were commonplace across the focus groups. This position meant that they were expected to uphold standards of appearance, behaviour and conduct that distinguished them from others around them. As another teacher16 expressed, Whatever the behaviour of the teacher is, it gets passed down to the students, and whatever the teacher does will be demonstrated by the students in the future. The teacher has to carefully choose the words that he or she uses with their students, because they have the ability to influence so many others. If for example the teachers are swearing in the classroom, and then the students go outside and do the same, their [the students’] behaviour can be blamed on the actions of the teacher. Some teachers believed their stature distinguished them from the communities they worked in. For teachers in rural communities this was a particularly salient issue, given that they were in fact the select few who had been given opportunities to travel outside of the region. As members of a particular ‘intelligencia’, they perceived themselves as having the necessary cultural and social capital to enable students to be part of communities other than the ones they currently lived in. According to one teacher working at a remote school,17 “…children do not come from the same society as us…that is why he/she has to come to school to learn how to live in a good society.” [emphasis added] Thus, many of these same teachers expressed ambivalence about current curriculum guidelines which emphasise that, “although the curriculum is defined at the national level through the syllabuses, the teachers will always be encouraged to teach it, as much as possible, within the context of the local about the content and nature of questioning in Timorese primary classrooms. 12 Ermera, 24.5.10 13 Given the important role that members of the Church have and continue to hold in Timorese society, as well as the historical influence of missionaries in provisioning schooling (Millo, 2002; Millo & Barnett, 2004; Nicolai, 2004), this is not surprising and is similar to what is found in a number of other post-colonial nations (Barrett, 2008, p. 499; Welmond, 2002). 14 This notion of being and perceiving oneself as a role model is has been found to be a common one in research on teacher identities (see for example Barret 2008; Bennel and Akyeampong 2007; Welmond 2002) 15 Dili, 19.05.10 16 Ermera, 26.05.10 17 Ermera, 27.05.10 280 community” (MECYS 2004, 2). The prevalent belief amongst the teachers spoken to was that there were certain types of learning that could only occur in schools, and that it was their job to impart or transmit this to their students. For rural teachers in particular, a large part of their role was identified as teaching students about a ‘new’ Timor-Leste that may have yet to have penetrated into the daily routines and lived reality of many communities outside of Dili. This belief was perhaps best articulated in one focus group18 where one teacher emphasised that “school helps to complete an insufficient education on its own from home.” Another teacher in the same group bluntly believed that, “school is the beginning of [the students’] learning experience…whatever students learn they need to learn in school”, suggesting that she did not see any inherent value in the lessons that children gained from life experience. There was also a notion that there was a distinction between schoolbased learning and community learning. A third teacher from the same school asserted that her job was to expose children with knowledge that could only gained from sitting in the classroom, arguing that for subjects, “…such as biology and science…[children] may only be exposed to at school …they may only see certain things in books at school and cannot experience them in their life outside.” Thus, the need to make learning relevant or contextualised was often challenged by teachers who believed they were exposing their students to ‘outside’ knowledge that was more important to that gained through daily experience. Perspectives on learner-centred pedagogies Recent legislation19 and policy20 clearly specify that teachers should promote child-centred, democratic, individualised, and differentiated learning environments. However, many teachers were uncomfortable with this shift, and often felt that practices inherent as part of such an approach—such as students engaged in group discussions, hands-on activities, games, or experimentation—were not reflective of what they believed to be effective pedagogy. Others questioned whether learner-centred techniques were effective for student learning. For example, one school director21 queried the appropriateness of advice she had received on child friendly classrooms where it was suggested that teachers reorganised desks into clusters (a technique common in learner-centred classrooms), rather than in rows facing the front. She questioned, the ability of students to learn, “when they are not all facing the board.” Thus she had dismissed this external advice and told her teachers to continue teaching in the fashion they were familiar. Many also felt that it was not important that classrooms be spaces that were engaging or interesting to students, “because they get that at home”22 or “it distracts students from concentrating on their learning”.23 While a minority of teachers acknowledged the value of such learnercentred methods, they also felt that such techniques were often difficult to implement as “we struggle when [these] activities don’t go according to our plan,” as one teacher expressed in frustration. 18 Ermera, 28.05.10 Article 13b of the Education Act (2008) emphasises that the focus in the second cycle of Basic Education (Grade Seven and Eight) should be on “allow[ing] students to assimilate and interpret information, critically and constructively… enabling students to pursue their training and the development of active and conscious attitudes before the community and its most relevant problems and challenges.” 20 For example, the Competency Framework for Teachers (MoE 2011a) stresses that the teacher should: be conscious of the difference between learners and teach each individual learner in the class; elect and use different techniques and strategies according to the needs of individual students; and foster the creativity and autonomy of each student. The National Curriculum Implementation Plan (MEYCS 2004, 25) emphasises the importance of teaching and learning being child centred (focussed on the learning activities and interests of the children) and democratic (designed and catered for the majority of the children it serves, but adaptable or modified to suit the minority). 21 Dili, 12.05.10 22 Ermera, 23.5.10 23 Dili, 14.5.11 19 281 These struggles often led teachers to return to practices and approaches that were familiar and safe to them.24 In most classrooms observed, teacher practice continued to be didactic and teacher centred with most lessons following the traditional format of a teacher-led lecture, followed by silent, independent work. More active and participatory learning methodologies such as group work, music/games, role-play or student demonstration, were observed much less frequently. As part of this questioning of learner-centred instruction, teachers also expressed concern about the structure and content of the new curriculum and its accompanying instructional resources, which relies heavily on teachers crafting instruction based on the needs of their learners (Chadwick, 2004). Having grown accustomed to textbooks for all subjects during Indonesian times (as either teachers or students), teachers felt unease in trying to develop lessons on their own. Thus they often fell back on what they were accustomed to—namely copying sections of text onto the board for students to duly copy, typically without any interaction or explanation prior. Teachers also questioned how lessons were structured in the new textbooks, which focussed on building conceptual awareness first, and technique later. For example, one teacher’s perception25 of the new mathematics textbook was that, “[it’s] not showing the proper [emphasis added] way of doing Maths, so we have to use our knowledge to teach students instead. If we go according to the book, the students will fall behind and not learn”. The result was that teachers were often observed using textbooks exclusively for assessment, rather than using these texts as an appropriate tool for instructional delivery.26 Conclusion For a post-conflict and newly independent state such as Timor-Leste where educational change is essential to building a knowledgable, skilled, cohesive and confident citizenry, the consequences of teacher practices that undermine the political and social project of societal transformation are concerning. A schooling system that continues to reproduce a subjugating and exclusive experience of eduation can breed further discontent towards the state and trigger greater divisiveness amongst the populice (Davies 2004). working against the government’s official slogan of Goodbye Conflict, Welcome Development (RDTL 2011). As Welmond (2002, 64) notes, teachers are Not just pedagogues with varying abilities and incentives to teach children the basics. The are, intermittendly, a potentially dangerous social group, a conduit for social control, and a sign of state legitimacy. Timorese teachers will remain what Vongalis-Macrow (2007, 430) labels as a “complex, critical and troublesome group of actors” in the theatre of educational reform for the foreseable future. As research from a number of post-colonial/post-conflict settings has vividly shown, the challenge remains in ensuring that the political and social discourse surrounding education penetrates the beliefs, ideologies and practices of teachers (see for example Fuller 1999; Hickling-Hudson 2010). Whilst tight accountability frameworks, and better teacher management systems are being increasing advocated by international agencies as the remedy (see for example Bruns, Filmer and patrinos 2011), they ultimately devalue the importance of teachers, reducing their morale and ultimately their willingness to consider reform (Apple, Au and Gandin 2011). In Timor-Leste teachers are increasingly demoralised by a policy production process full of misinformation, poorly concieved implementation 24 This was observed in two classrooms where teachers attempted to employ group work or a game, but as students grew restless or noisy, a decision was made to return to teacher centred, didactic learning. 25 Dili, 13.5.10 26 In the 42 classroom observations conducted, textbooks were observed being available in every classroom visited. However only 24 teachers were documented as utilising these texts, and 12 were noted as using these texts as intended. Very few teachers (n=5) appeared to use the teachers’ guide associated with the student book, instead using a copy of the student book to structure their lesson. 282 processes, and a lack of consideration for the lived reality of teachers’ work.27 The result is that teachers are acting as strategic actors, and attempting to implement aspects of reform that they have interpreted as of greatest significance (i.e. adoption and focus on use of Portuguese language) while neglecting or misconstruing other aspects of curriculum and teaching reforms that are perhaps more substantive to the country’s post-colonial future. What appears to have occurred in Timor-Leste, is what Jansen (2000, 2001, 2002) labels political symbolism as policy craft28, where symbols and images of reform are readily apparent in policy production and implementation—new textbooks, new curricula, and the promotion of new teaching pedagogies—but no substantive consideration is given to the process of negotiation, interpretation and strategic action which is part of any reform project. Key decision makers have simplified the immense challenge of changing deeply embedded teacher beliefs, attitudes and practices of schooling, and failed to acknowledge the need for extensive teacher ownership and understanding of the intent of such change as part of the implementation process. More attention must be paid to the latter if the aim is to better align ambitious reform aspirations with current classroom realities. Policy that aims to transform practices of teaching and learning must start with and engage local actors throughout, rather than see them as the endpoint of such a process. Bibliography Barrett, A. 2008, 'Capturing the differance: Primary school teacher identity in Tanzania,' International Journal of Educational Development, 28: 496-507. Chadwick, C. 2004, What's best for Children: The National Framework for Learning. Dili: Ministry of Education, Youth, Culture and Sports. Freedman, S., H. Weinstein, K. Murphy and T. Longman, 2008, 'Teaching History after Identity-Based Conflicts: The Rwanda Experience,' Comparative Education Review, 52(4): 663-690. House, E. 2000, 'Economic change, educational policy formation and the role of the state' in Altrichter, H. and J. Elliott (eds), Images of educational change, Buckingham, Open University Press, pp. 13-19. Hromadzic, A. 2008, 'Discourses of Integration and Practices of Reunification at Mostar Gymnasium, Bosnia and Herzegovina,' Comparative Education Review, 52(4). Jansen, J. 2000, Framing Education Policy Under Apartheid: On the Polities of Non-Reform in South African Education, 1990-2000, Johannesburg, Centre for Development and Enterprise. --- 2001, 'Image-ining teachers: policy images and teacher identity in South African classrooms,' South African Journal of Education, 21(4): 242-246. Jansen, J. 2002, 'Political symbolism as policy craft: explaining non-reform in South African education after apartheid,' Journal of Educational Policy, 17(2):199-215. Millo, Y. 2002, Transforming East Timor's Education System: From Colonial Indoctrination to Local Participation, Unpublished minor thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the Master of Development Studies, School of Anthropology, Geography and Environmental Studies, University of Melbourne. Millo, Y., and J. Barnett, 2004, 'Educational development in East Timor,' International Journal of Educational Development, 24(2004): 721-737. 27 This was most apparent when some of these initial findings were presented to school directors in Dili (Shah, 2011). Many in the audience felt that a root cause of the issues brought up in this paper were due to a lack of transparency and communication between the Ministry and the school-level regarding reform intent and function, as well as a perceived lack of voice for those at the school level to engage in dialogue with the Ministry over continued challenges. 28 In essence, his argument is that political elite (and external actors) use policy production to lend credence to a new cultural or economic paradigm and demonstrate accountability to particular constituencies. Less political will exists for actual implementation of such policies, due to ongoing macro-economic, political, social and material conditions and tensions. In the context of conflict-affected states, it is often the goals and targets that are considered and articulated, rather than the tools to bring such vision about. Logics of intervention are often driven by concern over the end state of such transformation (peace, security, stability, development); and are disconnected from the mechanisms and conditions that are necessary to achieve such aims (House 2000). A symbolically rich, but resourcepoor context of implementation are often the consequence of such action, as examples from contexts as diverse as Bosnia-Herzegovina (Hromadzic, 2008), Rwanda (Freedman, Weinstein, Murphy, & Longman 2008; Weinstein, Freedman, & Hughson 2007) and Afghanistan (Woo & Simmons 2008) have shown. 283 MoE 2007, National Education Policy 2007-2012: Building Our Nation through Quality Education, Dili, Ministry of Education, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste. --- 2008, Timor-Leste Ministry of Education Annual Joint Review, Dili (21-23 October, 2008),Ministry of Education and World Bank. --- 2009, Draft Strategic Plan for Achieving Universal Primary Completion by 2015 Review, Dili, Ministry of Education, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste. --- 2010, National Draft Strategic Plan 2011-2030, 2nd Draft, Dili, Ministry of Education, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste. Nicolai, S. 2004, Learning independence: Education in emergency and transition in Timor-Leste since 1999, Paris, UNESCO. Quinn, M. 2010, 'Using talk in classrooms: constructing meaning' in Leach, M., N. C. Mendes, A. B. daSilva, A. d. C. Ximenes and B. Boughton (eds), Understanding Timor Leste, Melbourne, Timor-Leste Studies Association, pp. 235-241. Shah, R. 2011, Perceptions, practices and policies about teaching and learning in Timor-Leste: A paper discussing findings and implications from a study of primary teachers' attitudes and actions, Wellington, New Zealand Aid Programme. UNICEF, and World Bank 2005, The development partners appraisal of the Strategic Plan for Universal Primary Completion by 2015 and a Recommendation of Endorsement of Timor-Leste for Accession to the Education for All Fast Track Initiative, Dili, Timor-Leste, Joint assessment of UNICEF, Timor Leste and World Bank. Weinstein, H., S. Freedman and H. Hughson 2007, 'School voices: challenges facing education systems after identitybased conflicts', Education, citizenship and social justice, 2(1): 41-71. Welmond, M. 2002, 'Globalization viewed from the periphery: the dynamics of teacher identity in the Republic of Benin', Comparative Education Review, 46(1): 37-65. Woo, J., and J. Simmons 2008, 'Paved with good intentions: images of textbook development in Afghanistan', Asia Pacific Journal of Education, 28(3): 291-304. 284 41 State-led prosperity or ‘runaway state-building’? Timor-Leste’s new development strategy Dennis Shoesmith Introduction Prime Minister Xanana Gusmão has adopted a bold and ambitious strategy to transform Timor-Leste in twenty years from the poorest state in Southeast Asia into a prosperous upper middle income country. In April 2010 he launched the Strategic Development Plan 2011-2030 (SDP or PEDN) which, after some further revisions, was finally presented to the National Parliament in July 2011. Initially entitled ‘On [the] Road to Peace and Prosperity’ and ‘From Conflict to prosperity’, the plan addresses three key areas: social capital, infrastructure development and economic development (RDTL 2011, 10). Its goal is that by 2030 Timor-Leste will have eradicated extreme poverty and established a sustainable and diversified non-oil economy (RDTL 2011, 194). It sets out to establish the conditions for a sustainable and vibrant economy that will grow beyond dependency on the petroleum sector, transform subsistence agriculture so that agriculture becomes a leading driver of private sector jobs, and establish a modern education and health system that will create a new workforce able to master new technologies and ‘respond to new opportunities with dynamism, creativity and enthusiasm’ (RDTL 2011, 9). The strategy pursues a model of state-led development underwritten by large withdrawals from the Petroleum Fund. The engine of continued double-digit growth will be fuelled by the Fund. The Fund, created by Law No.9/2005, reached US$6.9 billion by the end of 2010 and was approaching US$8 billion by mid-2011, notwithstanding the largest single quarterly withdrawal from the Fund of US$436 million in the last quarter of the year (La’o Hamutuk 2011b). Other than petroleum revenues, the Timor-Leste economy continues largely as one of subsistence agriculture. Timor-Leste is ‘the most petroleum-dependent country in the world’, with 95 per cent of state revenues coming from its maritime gas and oil reserves (La’o Hamutuk 2010a). Whether it succeeds or fails, state-led development on the scale of the SDP will remake the nature of the state in Timor-Leste. This paper considers the possible political outcomes of the SDP in terms of an antithesis to the thesis proposed by the SDP. The thesis is that the development strategy, which is urgently needed to address poverty and overcome dependency upon petroleum income, will achieve its developmental and inclusive social goals. The antithesis is that the strategy will move Timor-Leste into the dangerous territory of what O’Dwyer (2006) calls the spiral of ‘runaway state-building’, the profligate deployment of state funds to pursue political objectives. In poor states that have a mono-economy dependent upon a single major source of state revenue the risk of runaway state-building is compounded by the threat of the ‘Resource Curse’ where governments of energy-rich but poor states create an enclave economy of big spending surrounded by continuing mass poverty (Auty, 1993). Runaway State-Building State-led development funded by petroleum revenues if mismanaged and driven by political interests will present Timor-Leste with major challenges if the experience of other resource-rich, poor states is considered. The experience of some African states, including Nigeria and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (Brown and Kaiser 2007) and of a number of the reinvented post-communist states in Eastern Europe confirms that illiberal democracy and corruption are real dangers when state resources are distributed for political advantage. Illiberal democratic regimes are characterised by weak party systems manipulated by self-serving political élites. Political parties in illiberal democracies do not represent the public interest (Hague and Harrop 2010). ‘Runaway state-building’, the extraction of state resources to fund patronage politics, 285 became a characteristic of party politics in the new, post-communist states of Eastern Europe (O’Dwyer 2006). Patronage expands the population of clients of state largesse within and outside the bureaucracy. A similar pattern developed in Latin America (Geddes 1994). Competition between rival élite political actors, of course, does not equate to democratic politics. State capacity is undermined by poor and corrupt governance. By and large, Timor-Leste has so far escaped the threat of retreating into an ‘illiberal’ (merely procedural) democracy. It experienced major crises in 2006 and again in 2007 but its competitive multiparty political system has survived and the 2012 parliamentary election, like that in 2007, will probably be fair and free. It will be argued here, however, that as the SPD involves continuing large withdrawals and higher risk investments for the Petroleum Fund, a trend towards runaway state-building, already evident, will accelerate with the associated risk of entrenching an illiberal democratic system characterised by clientalism and patronage. The first indicator that runaway state-building is a potential threat in Timor-Leste is a succession of very rapidly growing annual budgets. The proposed 2012 budget of US$1.763 billion represents a 35% increase in government spending over 2011, and more than five times the 2008 budget. La’o Hamutuk in its analysis of the 2012 budget notes that ‘according to the IMF World Economic Outlook, Zimbabwe is the only country in the world whose state budget grew faster during the last four years (La’o Hamutuk 2011a). In its submission to Committee C of the National Parliament in October 2011, La’o Hamutuk repeated its warning that “the resource curse is already here, manifesting itself in a range of symptoms including inflation (‘Dutch disease’), extreme import dependency, neglect of non-oil sectors and revenue sources, ineffective public expenditures, credible rumours of corruption and failure to plan for the long term”. Prime Minister Gusmão has taken direct control over a growing share of state budget funds. Large projects such as the National Development Agency and the Human Resources Directorate are located now in the Office of the Prime Minister (Bano, 2011). His intention is to make things happen, to personally push an accelerated development strategy rather than work through the admittedly underperforming ministries. There are fears the ministries and their departments lack the capacity to execute the budget. President Ramos-Horta attacked the government’s decision to so steeply increase state expenditure in an election year, warning that the government was incapable of managing and expending such large sums in the name of its national development strategy (Ramos-Horta 2011a; Ramos-Horta 2011b). Mismanaged state funds increase the opportunities for corruption, a problem that Prime Minister Gusmão has acknowledged exists in the ministries (Gusmão 2011a). His government has taken action to address this problem. The Anti-Corruption Commission (CAC) is finalising its strategic plan and has initiated prosecutions. Timor-Leste has adopted EITI (Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative) to improve governance of its petroleum resources. The government is establishing of a Superior Audit Agency and an eProcurement Portal that will allow access to the government tender process, promoting greater transparency (Gusmao 2011b). The problem however, as President Ramos-Horta has warned, is lack of administrative capacity to control its own procurement processes (Ramos-Horta 2011a). The second indicator of runaway state-building is the concentration of budget control, and with this the temptation for political patronage (as distinct from corruption) in the political executive, specifically the Prime Minister himself. As budget responsibility increasingly transfers to the political executive, the authority of the National Parliament correspondingly weakens. This was evident when the 2011 Budget was presented by the Government to the parliament in November 2010. Initially, the 2012 Budget was US$985 million, of which US$734 million was drawn from the Petroleum Fund, within the 3 per cent Estimated Sustainable Income (ESI) limit of annual withdrawals mandated by the Petroleum Fund Law. On 28 January, however, Parliament approved a state budget presented to it of US$1,306 million, including US$1,055 million from the Petroleum Fund, exceeding the ESI. The 2011 budget now included US$599 million allocated to two, new Special Funds (the Infrastructure Fund and the Human Capital Development Fund). These funds would not be part of the Consolidated Fund, but administered by the National Development Agency (ADN) under the Ministry of Finance with the power to shift expenditures from one area of allocation to another. When the 2011 budget was referred by parliament to President Ramos-Horta for promulgation he referred it in turn to the Court of 286 Appeals to ask for a preventative appraisal of its constitutionality. His concerns were that detailed expenditures of the Special Funds were not specified and the US$321 million now proposed above the 3 per cent ESI from the Petroleum Fund had not been justified as required by the Petroleum Fund Law (Dias 2011). The Court advised that the budget law was constitutional. The consequences of these developments in 2010 were that the political executive, in effect, the Prime Minister, exercised wide-ranging discretion in the allocation of state funds. Arsénio Bano, the VicePresident of FRETILIN (the opposition party) accused the Prime Minister of taking into his own hands control of over 57% of the National Budget through the Prime Minister’s Office and the Office of the Presidency of the Council of Ministers which the Prime Minister also controlled, and in his role as Minister of Defence and Security (Bano 2011). The claim is an exaggeration but the Prime Minister has increasingly involved himself in the distribution of state funds. During his tour of the sub-districts in 2010, Gusmão personally authorised the allocation of ‘development capital’ grants for local infrastructure projects. The grants are coordinated by the Prime Minister’s department and administered by the Ministry of State Administration and Territorial Management (MSATM). Hundreds of new local companies proliferated, scrambling for government tenders. The distribution of special funds to local contractors for local constructions started with the Referendum Package (Pakote Referendum, PR) in 2009. In 2010, the Decentralisation Development Package (Pakote Dezenvolvimentu Desentralizadu, PDD), provided US$31 million for local tenders that were expected to produce immediate benefits at the sub-district and suco levels. The allocation for PDD-II in 2011 was US$28,811,000 (Bano 2011). Questions were raised about the capacity of these new local contractors to complete their projects and allegations were made of favoured treatment for politicians’ family members in the award of tenders (Borges 2010). The senior official in MSATM responsible for overseeing PDD acknowledged that there were problems with contractors and with installing a responsible procurement system (MSATM 2010). PDD funding was not included in the state budget or subject to parliamentary scrutiny and was distributed outside the usual budgetary and fiscal procedures. La’o Hamutuk, warned the Government that it must learn from the ‘weaknesses of Pakote Referendum … which resulted in corruption, poor planning, and intermittent implementation’. Timor-Leste was moving closer towards the ‘Resource Curse’ (La’o Hamutuk 2010c). Deploying the Petroleum Fund The SDP is clearly a political as well as a development strategy intended to position the CNRT to win the 2012 elections in its own right and deliver the Prime Minister undivided control of his government. The expectation is that generous deployment of state resources to the electorate will win the CNRT majority support in the parliament and obviate the need to negotiate a coalition majority. The development capital funds, the large National Budget increase for 2012 in an election year, and the relaxation of the formerly tight controls over the Petroleum Fund are all justified in terms of the SDP but they have obvious political advantages for the Prime Minister and his party as the parliamentary elections approach. The Prime Minister provided a justification for the radical remaking of the deployment of petroleum revenues in a speech delivered in May, 2010 (Gusmão, 2010). Previously, he said, government had adopted a ‘prudent and simple investment strategy’ imposing strict legislative conditions limiting risk; now was the time to move on from this ‘limited’ and ‘conservative’ strategy and to maximise and diversify petroleum savings. The time for prudence had passed: If the needs of the country require fast and sustainable growth, we have to invest in basic infrastructure, and for this to be possible, we need to unblock the mistaken policy of savings in order to invest those revenues in the best way. The Petroleum Fund Law (2005) established a funding regime where withdrawals from the Petroleum Fund required approval by the National Parliament and advice from the Petroleum Fund Consultative Council 287 (Drysdale 2007, 78). No transfer could be made from the Petroleum Fund in a Fiscal Year in excess of the Estimated Sustained Income for the Fiscal Year (set at 3% of annual petroleum income) without a detailed justification to the parliament and a commitment to restore the withdrawal above the ESI in following Fiscal Years (RDTL 2005). Petroleum revenues were invested in United States Federal Treasury Bonds, the Petroleum Fund Law allowing only 10% of the Fund to be invested less conservatively (Drysdale 2007, 78). In 2010-2011, the Government reviewed the Fund’s investment strategy and introduced amendments to the Petroleum Fund Law that expanded the limits on annual withdrawals from the Fund from 3% to 5%. Some withdrawals from the Fund could now be made without parliamentary authorisation (La’o Hamutuk 2010c). The decision was made to increase the limit from 10% to 50% of Petroleum Fund investment in the international share market, a move that was opposed by the Consultative Council for Petroleum Fund (CCPF 2011) and was made at a time of serious instability in global share markets . A former Australian adviser to the CCPF, Dr Tim Anderson, warned that ‘substantial changes proposed for East Timor’s Petroleum Fund law will expose the nation’s finances to high risk and open the door to corruption’ (Anderson 2011, IRIN, 2011). The National Parliament approved the proposal for greater flexibility in investments from the Petroleum Fund in August 2011 (‘East Timor Parliament’ 2011). In the past, deployment of petroleum revenues has not improved the situation for the mass of Timor-Leste’s citizens. Poverty actually increased in Timor-Leste between 2001 and 2007 (World Bank 2008). About half the population continue to live below the poverty line: while they have until now received little of the benefits of an annual real growth rate per GDP of between 19 and 7 percent over the past three years, they do suffer the effects of inflation, which has risen to around 13% (La’o Hamutuk 2011). In 2010 food prices increased 10 percent and continue to rise (Index Mundi 2010). Conclusion In a country with a population half of whom are identified as below the poverty line, the need for development that reaches the poor is urgent and obvious. In 2010-2011, the government of Timor-Leste decided to draw heavily on its one important source of income, the Petroleum Fund, to kick start an ambitious strategy of state-led development that is intended to transform Timor-Leste into a prosperous and peaceful upper middle income country. The concern, held not only by the FRETILIN opposition, is that this raises the risk of political manipulation of the Petroleum Fund, of mismanagement and of corruption. The possibility has been raised in this discussion that the imprudent deployment of savings in the Petroleum Fund risks Timor-Leste experiencing the phenomenon of ‘runaway state-building’ similar to that experienced in the new post-communist states of eastern Europe, and that Timor-Leste could experience negative consequences of the distorted political economy known as the ‘Resource Curse’. There is the associated danger that a system of misuse of state resources for political patronage could become entrenched. The potential for ‘money politics’ to subvert the political system is real. Poor management of the ambitious, petroleum-funded development strategy and its appropriation for political advantage may well be only a worst case scenario in Timor-Leste where elections are competitive and fair, where governments can be voted out of office, and where the Constitution is generally respected. State-led development in a poor, resource rich country can succeed as the achievements of Botswana’s first president, Seretse Khama, demonstrated (Brown and Kaiser 2007). Botswana, however, is the exception. Valuable natural resources, badly managed, can corrupt and ruin a state as Nigeria and the Democratic Republic of the Congo demonstrate. If their experience is a guide, the antithesis to state-led development, runaway state-building, is at least a potential risk for Timor-Leste. 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Dias, Juvinal 2011, ‘We Must Respect the Constitutional Principles of the President’s Duties’, printed in Tetum in Timor Post and Diario Nacional, February 11, English translation by La’o Hamutuk, http://www.laohamutuk.org/econ/OGE11/court/HortaPromulgasuanTP11Feb2011En.pdf , viewed 18 January 2012. Drysdale, Jennifer 2007, ‘The Institutional Challenges of Managing Timor-Leste’s Petroleum Fund’ in Dennis Shoesmith (ed), The Crisis in Timor-Leste: Understanding the Past, Imagining the Future, Darwin, Charles Darwin University Press, pp. 77-83. Geddes, Barbara 1994, The Politician’s Dilemma, Berkeley, University of California Press. Gusmão, Xanana 2010, Speech by His Excellency the Prime Minister Kay Rala Xanana Gusmão on the Occasion of the Petroleum Fund Management Seminar, Dili, Convention Centre, Mercado Lama, 10 May. Gusmão, Xanana 2011a, ‘Xanana: “Notes” Members of Government Involved in Corruption’, Timor Post, June 9. --- 2011b, Address by His Excellency the Prime Minister Kay Rala Xanana Gusmão on the Occasion of the Opening Session of the Regional Conference on the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI): ‘Beyond EITI, The Transparency Model for Timor-Leste’, Dili Convention Centre, August 26. Hague, Rod and Martin Harrop 2010, Comparative Government and Politics, An Introduction (8th ed), Houndsmill, Basingstoke, Palgrave macmillan. Index Mundi 2010, Timor-Leste GDP – real growth rate, http://www.indexmundi.com/timorleste/gdp_real_growth_rate.html, viewed 19 January 2012. IRIN 2011, Timor-Leste: Observers Divided Over Oil Fund Investment (United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, October 20, 2011, http://www.irinnews.org/report.aspx?ReportId=94001, viewed 18 January 2012. 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O’Dwyer, Conor 2006, Runaway State-Building: Patronage Politics and Democratic Development ,Baltimore, The John Hopkins University Press. Ramos-Horta, José 2011a, ‘Govt. incapable of executing state budget: Horta’, (translated from the Tetun for Local Daily News), Radio Timor-Leste, July 26. --- 2011b, Diario Nacional, October 19. RDTL (Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste) 2005, Petroleum Fund Law/2005. --- 2011, Strategic Development Plan 2011-2030, July (submitted to the National Parliament). World Bank 2008, Timor-Leste: Poverty in a Young Nation, Dili, November. 289 42 Negotiating nation and tradition: Analyzing East-Timorese state-formation from the perspective of Brazilian Anthropology1 Kelly Silva and Daniel S. Simião Since Van Wouden’s pioneer work (1968 [1935]) marriage exchanges and their effect on social organization have been hoisted to the position of an important diacritic in the recognition of East Indonesia as a cultural region sui generis in Austronesia. As a result, to analyze their contemporary configurations has become strategic to those interested in grasping to what extent the dialectics of modernization have been imposed on East Timor, shaping that country as a specific socio-political frontier. Indeed, bridewealth, called barlake or hafolin in Dili, is a common practice in the capital city among various social segments, although there is no consensus as to its nature, meaning, and ideal pattern. In fact, it is by exploring its meaning that certain individuals and collectivities negotiate their place in the world. Just as in the indigenous villages, in Dili’s urban setting bridewealth is a strong political mover around which multiple discourses are deployed. For instance, if someone says that barlake is merely about “buying” a wife, and hence, a barbaric custom, he/she is presenting himself as a person from Dili (ema Dili), that is, a modern/polite/civilized individual. On the other hand, one may say that barlake is a way of recognizing the “value” and the “origins” of the bride. By saying that, a person is presenting himself as an authentic Timorese, someone who knows and honors his own traditions and understands the “real” meaning of barlake; someone strongly connected to the hills. In this paper we explore to what extent certain discourses on “tradition” (of which barlake is taken to be central) can be associated with different ways of imagining and negotiating the nation. We regard these discourses as beacons that signal the genealogy of the phenomena involved in the dialectics of modernization in East Timor. Our analysis expands both the research field and the theoretical discussions currently deployed in the diverse anthropologies practiced in Brazil, thus involving a broader field of intercommunication with them. Toward the end, we look at some of the intellectual lineages of Brazilian anthropology we deem important for the way we have articulated our questions and the analysis presented in this text. The role of usos & costumes in nation-building In a city such as Díli with approximately 200 thousand people with a complex formative history, it is inevitable that marriage rituals are structured in ways that accord with the dynamics of class, ethnic origin, religious persuasion, family trajectories, education records, and so on. Nevertheless, marriage negotiations between houses/families are always present. Whether or not barlake is requested conveys the ways in which the relevant parties handle their reciprocal duties and identities in the urban context. To be married in Dili almost always involves a ceremony in the Catholic Church which is also charged with the civil registry of marriages. Matrimonial demeanor implies attention to the expectations of the houses/families involved so as to heed their respective usos e costumes/lisan/adat regarding marriage2. Total observance of these 1 This paper is based on research supported by the following grants from the Brazilian National Council for Scientific and Technological Development: 401609/2010-3, 201269/2011-2 and 308500/2009-1. The grants back the research projects entitled “Marriage prestations, customs and nation building in Timor-Leste: the dialect of modernization seen from Dili” and ”Legal Equality and Cultural Diversity in comparative perspective”.. We are grateful for the useful suggestions presented by the review. 2 As already asserted by Silva (2004) and Roque (2011), the idea of “tradition” – translated, invented and negotiated throughout the Portuguese expression “usos e costumes” – has been part of the colonial knowledge used by the Portuguese administration to deal with the multiple indigenous realities. Although never systematized in a code (as has been done in Mozambique, Goa and Macau), the idea of “usos e costumes” (customs) was a way of dealing with local knowledge in an assimilative way, supposing it will be, in the appropriate moment, superseded by the moral values of “civilization”. Nowadays, the challenges of dealing with indigenous knowledge 290 traditions is considered proper for the construction of satisfactory family relationships based on mutual respect. Concretely speaking, this means to negotiate the obligations between the parties both at the wedding and in the future. It must be decided, among other things, whether or not there will be a barlake or other kinds of marriage prestations (such as aitukan-be’manas, literally firewood and hot water)3, as well as the amount and type of goods to be exchanged in the wedding, be they for the festivities (meals for both the bride givers and takers) or to seal the agreement between the parties. The kinds of goods, resources, and duties negotiated in the barlake can change its configuration substantially. It can be defined according to the ancestral usos e costumes of the parties involved, the prestations paid by the bride’s mother, the current social position of both families, and ultimately the bride’s social condition – whether or not she is a virgin, has a higher education, has a good job, and so on. The various attitudes toward barlake express different ways in which East Timorese elites in Dili approach indigenous notions of usos e costumes. Through these, they nourish their place in the world as well as the moments and positions they took in the process of imagining the nation. In our 2008-2009 field research on Dili marriage prestations, we observed that individuals belonging to houses/families that had migrated to the city less than twenty years before, and/or men over fifty tended to request barlake and value it. In contrast, those whose house/family had lived in Dili for over twenty years and/or were young people, and/or those associated with the women’s movement, and/or the offspring of people seen as assimilated or mestizo (mixed blood) during the Portuguese colonization tended not to request barlake and actively devalued it. In general, we suggest that this variation in barlake practices and discourses in Dili is connected to at least two factors. On the one hand, it reflects the diversity of form and content of the usual ‘total prestations’ between the various ethno-linguistic groups that live on the East Timor borders (the hills) with whom many Dili dwellers keep some sort of tie. On the other hand, this variation in Dili discourses reveal important aspects of the status of “assimilated” (assimilado) and now of “modern folk,” (ema modernu) as deployed in the auto-identification of certain of the country’s population segments. In the colonial period, those considered to be assimilated were people who adopted Christianity, spoke Portuguese, and, as a consequence (assumed by the colonizers), were “freed from their usos e costumes.” Hence, to adhere to barlake and other forms of usos e costumes marked – and still does – social distinctions that are ambiguous and express a certain sense of drama. Justification to adopt barlake is frequently based on the perception that it is a tool for “mutual aid,” for valuing women, maintaining family unity, and paying respect and deference to the ancestors. In turn, criticisms of barlake are often grounded on the view that it amounts to the selling of women. As such, it is judged to be illegitimate following the (Western) ideology that persons and things are incommensur
