COMMENTARY: By Eugene Doyle

The first demonstration I ever went on was at the age of 12, against the Vietnam War.

The first formal history lesson I received was a few months later when I commenced high school. That day the old history master, Mr Griffiths, chalked what I later learnt was a quote from Hegel:

“The only lesson we learn from history is that we do not learn the lessons of history.” It’s about time we changed that.

• READ MORE: ‘I sent them a good boy and they made him a murderer’ — The My Lai massacre
• The fall of Saigon 1975: Part two: The Quiet mutiny and the US army falls apart

Painful though it is, let’s have the courage to remember what they desperately try to make us forget.

Cultural amnesia and learning the lessons of history
Memorialising events is a popular pastime with politicians, journalists and old soldiers.

Nothing wrong with that. Honouring sacrifice, preserving collective memory and encouraging reconciliation are all valid. Recalling the liberation of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) on 30 April 1975 is important.

What is criminal, however, is that we failed to learn the vital lessons that the US defeat in Vietnam should have taught us all. Sadly much was forgotten and the succeeding half century has witnessed a carnival of slaughter perpetrated by the Western world on hapless South Americans, Africans, Palestinians, Iraqis, Afghans, and many more.

It’s time to remember.

Memory shapes national identity
As scholars say: Memory shapes national identity. If your cultural products — books, movies, songs, curricula and the like — fail to embed an appreciation of the war crimes, racism, and imperial culpability for events like the Vietnam War, then, as we have proven, it can all be done again. How many recognise today that Vietnam was an American imperial war in Asia, that “fighting communism” was a pretext that lost all credibility, partly thanks to television and especially thanks to heroic journalists like John Pilger and Seymour Hersh?

Just as in Gaza today, the truth and the crimes could not be hidden anymore.

If a culture doesn’t face up to its past crimes — say the treatment of the Aborigines by settler Australia, of Māori by settler New Zealand, of Palestinians by the Zionist state since 1948, or the various genocides perpetrated by the US government on the indigenous peoples of what became the 50 states, then it leads ultimately to moral decay and repetition.

Lest we forget. Forget what?
Is there a collective memory in the West that the Americans and their allies raped thousands of Vietnamese women, killed hundreds of thousands of children, were involved in countless large scale war crimes, summary executions and other depravities in order to impose their will on a people in their own country?

Why has there been no collective responsibility for the death of over two million Vietnamese? Why no reparations for America’s vast use of chemical weapons on Vietnam, some provided by New Zealand?

Vietnam Veterans Against War released a report “50 years of struggle” in 2017 which included this commendable statement: “To VVAW and its supporters, the veterans had a continuing duty to report what they had witnessed”. This included the frequency of “beatings, rapes, cutting body parts, violent torture during interrogations and cutting off heads”.

The US spends billions projecting itself as morally superior but people who followed events at the time, including brilliant journalists like Pilger, knew something beyond sordid was happening within the US military.

The importance of remembering the My Lai Massacre
While cultural memes like “Me Love You Long Time” played to an exoticised and sexualised image of Vietnamese women — popular in American-centric movies like Full Metal Jacket, Green Beret, Rambo, Apocalypse Now, as was the image of the Vietnamese as sadistic torturers, there has been a long-term attempt to expunge from memory the true story of American depravity.

All, or virtually all, armies rape their victims. The US Army is no exception — despite rhetorically jockeying with the Israelis for the title of “the world’s most moral army”. The most famous such incident of the Vietnam War was the My Lai Massacre of 16 March 1968 in which about 500 civilians were subjected to hours of rapes, mutilation and eventual murder by soldiers of the US 20th Infantry Regiment.

Rape victims ranged from girls of 10 years through to old women. The US soldiers even took a lunch break before recommencing their crimes.

The official commission of inquiry, culminating in the Peers Report found that an extensive network of officers had taken part in a cover-up of what were large-scale war crimes. Only one soldier, Lieutenant Calley, was ever sentenced to jail but within days he was, on the orders of the US President, transferred to a casually-enforced three and half years of house arrest. By this act, the United States of America continued a pattern of providing impunity for grave war crimes. That pattern continues to this day.

The failure of the US Army to fully pursue the criminals will be an eternal stain on the US Army whose soldiers went on to commit countless rapes, hundreds of thousands of murders and other crimes across the globe in the succeeding five decades. If you resile from these facts, you simply haven’t read enough official information.

Thank goodness for journalists, particularly Seymour Hersh, who broke rank and exposed the truth of what happened at My Lai.

Senator John McCain’s “sacrifice” and the crimes that went unpunished
Thousands of Viet Cong died in US custody, many from torture, many by summary execution but the Western cultural image of Vietnam focuses on the cruelty of the North Vietnamese toward “victims” like terror-bomber John McCain.

The future US presidential candidate was on his 23rd bombing mission, part of a campaign of “War by Tantrum” in the words of a New York Times writer, when he was shot down over Hanoi.

Also emblematic of this state-inflicted terrorism was the CIA’s Phoenix Programme, eventually shut down after public outrage and hearings by the US Congress into its misdeeds. According to US journalist Douglas Valentine, author of several books on the CIA, including The Phoenix Program:

“Central to Phoenix is the fact that it targeted civilians, not soldiers”.

Common practices, Valentine says, quoting US witnesses and official papers, included:

“Rape, gang rape, rape using eels, snakes, or hard objects, and rape followed by murder; electrical shock (“the Bell Telephone Hour”) rendered by attaching wires to the genitals or other sensitive parts of the body, like the tongue; “the water treatment”; “the airplane,” in which a prisoner’s arms were tied behind the back and the rope looped over a hook on the ceiling, suspending the prisoner in midair.”

No US serviceman, CIA agent or other official was held to account for these crimes.

Tiger Force — part of the US 327th Infantry — gained a grisly reputation for indiscriminately mowing down civilians, mutilations (cutting off of ears which were retained as souvenirs was common practice, according to sworn statements by participants). All this was supposed to be kept secret but was leaked in 2003.

“Their crimes were uncountable, their madness beyond imagination — so much so that for almost four decades, the story of Tiger Force was covered up under orders that stretched all the way to the White House,” journalists Michael Sallah and Mitch Weiss reported.

Their crimes, secretly documented by the US military, included beheading a baby to intimidate villagers into providing information — interesting given how much mileage the US and Israel made of fake stories about beheaded babies on 7 October 2023. The US went to great lengths to hide these ugly truths — and no one ever faced real consequences.

Helicopter gunships and soldiers at checkpoints gunned down thousands of Vietnamese civilians, including women and children, much as US forces did at checkpoints in Iraq, according to leaked US documents following the illegal invasion of that country.

The worst cowards and criminals were not the rapists and murderers themselves but the high-ranking politicians and military leaders who tried desperately to cover up these and hundreds of other incidents. As Lieutenant Calley himself said of My Lai: “It’s not an isolated incident.”

Here we are 50 years later in the midst of the US-Israeli genocide in Gaza, with the US fuelling war and bombing people across the globe. Isn’t it time we stopped supporting this madness?

Eugene Doyle is a community organiser and activist in Wellington, New Zealand. He received an Absolutely Positively Wellingtonian award in 2023 for community service. His first demonstration was at the age of 12 against the Vietnam War. This article was first published at his public policy website Solidarity and is republished here with permission.

When New Zealanders commemorate Anzac Day today on April 25, it’s not only to honour the soldiers who lost their lives in World War I and subsequent conflicts, but also to mark a defining event for national identity.

The battle of Gallipoli against the Ottoman Empire, the story goes, was where the young nation passed its first test of courage and determination.

The question of why New Zealand soldiers ended up on Turkish beaches in April 1915 is typically not part of these commemorations. Rather, our collective memories begin with the moment of the early morning landing.

• READ MORE: New lessons about old wars: keeping the complex story of Anzac Day relevant in the 21st century
• A century on, the Balfour Declaration still shapes Palestinians’ everyday lives
• Less than illustrious: remembering the Anzacs means also not forgetting some committed war crimes
• Other war on Gaza reports

Consider, for example, the timing of the Anzac Day dawn service, or the Museum of New Zealand-Te Papa Tongarewa’s exhibition, Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War, which plunges visitors straight into the action.

This selective retelling of history is necessary for the “coming of age” narrative to work. It helps conceal that Britain was pursuing its own colonial ambitions against the Ottomans, and that New Zealand took part in World War I as “a member of the British club”, as historian Ian McGibbon puts it, loyally devoted to the imperial cause.

Against the background of the recent horrors and escalating tensions in the Middle East, however, it seems more important than ever to make these silences speak in our commemorations of Gallipoli.

Britain’s colonial interests
While the causes of World War I are complex and multifaceted, historians have extensively documented that Britain had long seen parts of the decaying Ottoman Empire as prey for colonial expansion.

Already, in the late 1800s, Britain had taken control of Cyprus and Egypt.

Turkey’s Middle Eastern possessions were of interest to the government in London because they provided not only a land route to the colony in India, but also rich oil reserves.

Hence, when the Ottoman Empire signed an alliance with Germany — mainly to guard against Russian territorial aspirations – and somewhat reluctantly entered World War I, the British did not lament this as a diplomatic defeat.

“The decrepit Ottoman Empire was more useful to them as a victim than as a dependent ally,” as the late historian Michael Howard explained.

The day after Britain declared war on the Ottomans on November 5, 1914, British troops attacked Basra (in today’s southern Iraq) to secure nearby oil facilities.

In the following months, the Triple Entente of Britain, France and Russia won a number of easy victories, which fuelled the belief the Turkish military was weak. This in turn led Britain to devise a plan to launch a direct strike on Constantinople, the Ottoman capital.

First, however, they had to clear the Gallipoli peninsula of enemy defences. And who better suited to this task than the first convoy of Anzac troops, just a short distance away in Egypt after passing through the Suez Canal?

Palestine: a complex tangle of pledges
As is well known, war planners in London had underestimated the enemy’s military strength. The battle of Gallipoli ended in a Turkish victory over Britain and its allies.

Nevertheless, fortunes eventually turned against the Ottoman Empire.

Although a whole century has gone by, British diplomatic efforts and secret agreements that were meant to accelerate the collapse of the Ottoman Empire still shape the Middle East today.

Most significantly, it is the violent conflict over Palestine that can be traced back to colonial power dealings during World War I. The crux of the problem is that Britain affirmed three irreconcilable wartime commitments in relation to Palestine.

First, in the hope of initiating an Arab revolt against Ottoman rule, the British made promises to Sharif Husayn, the emir of Mecca, about the creation of an independent Arab kingdom.

Second, in the Sykes-Picot Agreement, which divided the Ottomans’ Arab lands into British and French spheres of interest, Palestine was designated for international administration.

Third, in the Balfour Declaration of November 1917, the British government pledged support for a “Jewish national home” in Palestine — a move motivated by a mixture of realpolitik and Biblical romanticism.

In the end, it was the third commitment that turned out to be the most enduring.

How should we remember Gallipoli?
Amid this complex history, we must not forget the thousands of New Zealand soldiers who died in World War I — men who had either volunteered, expecting a quick and heroic war, or served as draftees.

However, we need to have a public discussion about whether it is still appropriate for our commemorations to skip over the question of why these men fought in Europe and the Mediterranean.

Facing up to this question not only makes us aware of our responsibilities towards the Middle East problem, but it can also serve as a lesson for the future — not to blindly follow great powers into their military adventures.

Olli Hellmann, Associate Professor of Political Science, University of Waikato. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

New Zealand’s Te Pāti Māori has handed over its petition — with 70,000 signatures — calling for the country to officially be named Aotearoa.

It is on our passports, on our money, and in our national anthem. But Aotearoa is not our official name, yet.

The petition was delivered to Parliament today. It calls to change the country’s official name to Aotearoa, and begin a process to restore te reo Māori names for all towns, cities, and places by 2026.

• READ MORE: Other te reo Māori reports

“Whether you’re for or against, the thing is everyone knows that Aotearoa is a legitimate name given to this country by Kupe — not by Governor Grey or any written book, this is well before any of those things,” Te Pāti Māori co-leader Rawiri Waititi said.

Te Reo fluency among Māori dropped from 90 percent in 1910 to 26 percent in 1950.

Today, just 20 percent of the Māori population speak it. That’s three percent of the whole country.

Waititi said the only way to restore the language was to make it visible in as many places as possible.

‘Pebble being dropped in the water’
“This is the pebble being dropped in the water, the initial pebble hitting the water. And what it’ll do, from now for many years to come, is those ripples will continue to get bigger and bigger.”

The petition now goes to a select committee, which will decide what to do next. Whether that was a bill or even a public referendum, it had already succeeded, Waititi said.

“It’s starting the dialogue, it’s building awareness. It has started a wananga across the country.”

National leader Christopher Luxon said changing the name was a constitutional issue.

“I think those are decisions for the New Zealand people, if there’s widespread support it should go to referendum and it should be a decision that they get to make. It’s not something the government makes,” he said.

But just last week Luxon posted a tribute in te reo Māori to kaumatua Joe Hawke, resulting in a tirade of anti-Māori remarks from National supporters.

Waititi brushed off any backlash the petition, and by extension he, received.

“If they’re getting their undies in a twist, that’s their undies, not my undies,” he said.

Time for a discussion
Government ministers said it was time for a discussion over changing the name, but were not actually committing to one.

“These things evolve over time, but it’s up to every New Zealander to be part of the debate,” Andrew Little said.

“I’m mindful that representatives from Ngāi Tahu have pointed out that Aotearoa tends to focus on the North Island, but that’s a debate that can rightly happen,” David Clark said.

Associate Health Minister Ayesha Verrall admitted she had not given it any thought.

“But I’m very comfortable having the country referred to as Aotearoa-New Zealand,” she said.

Deputy Prime Minister Grant Robertson said it was not something the Labour caucus had discussed, while Michael Wood called for open-mindedness.

“I think any question like that needs to be worked through really carefully. It’s the name of our country, the identity of our country,” he said.

Labour’s Māori caucus divided
Labour’s Māori caucus was somewhat divided

“I think we should have a good conversation about it. I’ve personally got no problems with us using Aotearoa but it’s a question for the whole country,” Kelvin Davis said.

Minister of Māori Development Willie Jackson supported the use of Aotearoa, but said he had recently been travelling around the country, speaking to Māori communities, and changing the country’s name never came up.

“We have other kaupapa more important right now,” he said.

Peeni Henare believed the country was ready.

“I’m encouraging one and all to have a very mature debate over what I think is a pretty cool kaupapa,” he said.

Artist Hohepa Thompson, also known as Hori, backed the petition.

Hori’s Pledge response
Hori’s Pledge is a response to billboards popping up around the country saying “New Zealand, not Aotearoa”, funded by lobby group Hobson’s Pledge.

Thompson had been driving across Te Ika a Maui, with his own billboard in tow, to call for change.

He believed a hyphenated ‘Aotearoa-New Zealand’ would not go far enough.

“Māori have taken the backseat for many, many times. So when it comes to Aotearoa-New Zealand, let’s have this. Aotearoa, boom.”

The most positive conversations on his trip came from people who did not even know Pākehā history, he said.

“The only renaming that happened here was from that side. So we’re not trying to create ‘change’, were just re-instating what was already here.”

He pointed out a similar subject that took place recently.

Three years ago, some said a national holiday for Matariki would never happen. Later this month, it will be officially celebrated for the first time.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Google images of a country or region can offer a wealth of information about the people and cultures that live there. Some images accurately portray reality while others present camouflage, attempting to deceive or twist our perception.

From a marketing standpoint, it’s all about selling the national identity, brands and products.

When you type “West Papua” or “West Papua genocide” into Google Image search, you are immediately confronted with some of the grossest human rights violations on Earth.

• READ MORE: Other West Papuan education reports

Images of other Melanesian island countries, conversely, display pristine, exotic beauty, presenting them as an ideal vocational playground for first-world self-exhausted tourists.

West Papua is a region where its public image is produced and controlled by those who want West Papua to mould to and represent their modern, capitalist ideals.

On the one hand, we have images of West Papua representing a hidden heaven on earth, with majestic glaciers, mountains, lush lowlands, mangrove swamps along the coastline, and coral reefs with a rich biodiversity.

On the other hand, we see images of Indonesian soldiers torturing, killing, bombing, and destroying ancestral homelands; we see images of West Papuan freedom fighters in their jungles with modern machine guns, performing their cultural rituals while declaring war on the Indonesian military.

Freeport’s gigantic hole – a graveyard for Papuans
At the centre of this tragic display of contradiction is the image of a giant gaping hole right in the middle of West Papua’s magnificent ancient glacier — a sacred home of local indigenous people.

Local elders say that this hole has become “a graveyard for Papuans”.

This hole was created by the discovery of a strange-looking, greenish-black rock on Gunung Jayawijaya (Mount Carstensz) by Dutch geologist Jean Jacques Dozy in 1936.

It took some 20 years before the discovery was brought to the attention of American geologist Forbes Wilson in 1959, who was the vice-president of Freeport Minerals Company at the time.

From 1960 to 1969, the Papuan people lived through a century of great historical significance. It began with a sense of hope and optimism as the Dutch prepared Papuans for independence in 1961.

This independence dream was taken to New York in 1962, only to be abandoned at the mercy of the United Nations, and then to Indonesia in 1963.

The controversial UN sponsored “Act of Free Choice” in 1969, which Papuans called “Act of No Choice”, ultimately sealed the fate of Papuans’ independence dream within Indonesia. It may seem that the world and UN have forgotten Papua’s dream, but Papuans have never lost sight of it and continue to die for or because of it.

The US-based Freeport-McMoRan was given the green light to begin digging this hole behind the scenes during that decade, during which Papua’s fate was controlled by world leaders in their cruel puppet show. For the newly created state of Indonesia, this was an economic blessing, but for Papuans it was a death sentence.

Over the past 60 years, this hole has taken the lives of many Papuan mothers, fathers, and children, creating an endless world of grief and mourning.

Papuans not happy, says Governor Enembe
It was these decade-old wounds and grievances that caused Governor Lukas Enembe, the current governor of Papua’s province, to erupt on February 7, 2022.

“Papuans are not happy. Papuans are not happy in all of Papua. Papuans are the most unhappy people on earth. You take note of that,” he said in a recent video posted by senior journalist Andreas Harsono on his Twitter account.

Gubernur Lukas Enembe: Kehidupan orang Papua tidak bahagia. Orang Papua tidak happy di seluruh Papua. Intan Jaya menangis, Puncak menangis, Nduga menangis, Pegunungan Bintang menangis dan Maybrat menangis. Orang tidak hidup aman di negeri kita sendiri https://t.co/VOsuJNOkpe pic.twitter.com/HvTVYo5yXx

— Andreas Harsono (@andreasharsono) February 9, 2022

Papuan Governor Lukas Enembe in the middle: Twitter image

The governor also said that some areas such as Intan Jaya, Nduga, and Star Mountains “cry” with the harsh conditions experienced by the Papuan people.

“Papuans do not live in happiness. Intan Jaya is crying, Puncak is crying, Nduga is crying, The Stars Mountains are crying, and Maybrat is crying. People are crying. People [Papuans] do not live safely in our own country. We were not born for that,” he said.

“We want to live happily. We want to live and enjoy happiness. Papuans have to live happily, that’s the main thing,” Governor Enembe said in a statement he made in a speech circulated on a video on Tuesday, February 8, 2022.

These areas, where the governor is referring to, are among the most militarised in West Papua.

Victor Yeimo, a prominent Papuan, said that over the past three years, Jakarta had sent 21,369 troops to West Papua, some of them referred to as “Satan Troops”, as reported by Arnold Belau on Asia-Pacific Report.

Sadly, this overwhelming military presence in West Papua is not a new phenomenon. Indonesia has been sending military troops equipped with western-made and supplied war machines since 1963.

The West Papua National Liberation Army of Free Papua Movement (OPM-TPNPB) is actively engaged in an ongoing war with Indonesian forces, which is being ignored by the international media.

The grace of Papuan mothers
In spite of the tragedies, grievances and the haunting images that Google displays, one story is rarely shown — The story of Papuan mothers. They are known for their resilience, courage, and indomitable will to live and work, despite the odds being stacked against them.

They are hard-working, compassionate, and strong — the backbone of Papuan society. They sacrifice everything to send their children to school and welcome foreigners with open arms.

There was a recent Tiktok video clip circulating in West Papua and Indonesia which received thousands of views and comments. The video footage featured a young Indonesian migrant weeping while singing in Papuan, the language of the Lani people of the highlands. Her name is Julitha Mathelda Wacano. She works in Tolikara, one of the newly created regions in the highlands of West Papua.

@pemilikcancer #stoprasisme #@olvaholvah.official #kobelumrasatinggaldengandorang#sadikasihselimut ## #fypシ ♬ original sound – Wizan Lewa Cidy481 – Tik Toker

The young Indonesian woman singing in the local Papuan language of the Lani people. Video: Tiktok

The following lines are translations of what she wrote on the video below:

I cannot hold this song anymore.

I am a migrant, my hair is straight,

my skin is white, but in Tolikara,

after I return home from office,

food is already prepared on the table.

Who cooks this?” she asks. Then she replied “Mama gunung dorang…” meaning the “mothers from the mountains”.

Julitha Mathelda Wacano
The emotional video depicts the experience of a young Indonesian migrant girl being cared for by people deemed “enemies” by the state in some of the most demonised and militarised areas in Indonesia, due to constant negative representation in media coverage.

She opened a window to the world of Papuan mothers, for others to see the kindness of Papuans in the face of a society segregated by racism and caste.

The video of Julitha singing in the local Lani language has received more than 1500 comments, many of which share their own experiences of the goodness of the Papuan people. Many praise the love and kindness of Papuans, while others praised God and Allah for her story.

Papuan mothers still face so many challenges
Despite their unwavering love for others, Papuan mothers struggle to compete with the might of migrant economic dominance and their modern entrepreneurial skills.

In the eyes of Indonesians, Papuans do not produce anything of value to be traded or sold on either the national, regional, or global market.

Most Papuans produce fresh food, which has its own value and merit for those seeking a healthy lifestyle.

Papuan mothers spend their days sitting in the rain, in the dirt, alongside busy dusty roads. Meanwhile, migrants sell their imported products and gadgets in high-rise buildings, malls, kiosks, and shops, with comfort and convenience.

At sunset and sometimes into the night, if the mothers don’t sell their produce, they have no place to store it — no cool room or freezer– so they either give it away or take it home to be eaten. They have to start it all over again the next morning.

Many of these mothers are torn between taking care of their children, attending constant funeral services for family members, and finding money to send their children to school to participate in the education system that fails them and demonises their identity at every turn.

All roads lead to Rome – West Papua economics
A total of Rp 126.99 trillion (more than US$8 billion) has been distributed to the provinces of Papua and West Papua since Jakarta passed the so-called Special Autonomy Law in 2021. The details of how this figure was distributed throughout the period 2002-2020 are summarized here by Muhammad Idris and Muhammad Idris on compass.com.

Fiscal figure of this type, or any reports provided by those who seek to promote the state’s interests, can be difficult to verify independently, owing to the nature of the mechanism in place by Jakarta to carry out its settler colonial activities on Papuan Indigenous lands. Nevertheless, this type of report gives us some rough insight into what goes on in the region.

Despite such an amount, the poverty rate in these two provinces is nearly three times higher than the national average. Infant, child, and maternal mortality rates are among the highest, and health services and literacy rates are among the lowest in Indonesia.

There is an “all roads lead to Rome” economic system operating in West Papua, to which no matter how much money Jakarta gives to Papuans, it will all end up back in Jakarta, with migrants, security forces, foreign companies, misfits and opportunists.

Unfortunately, Papuan mothers’ hard-earned money ends up in the same hands that control and maintain this brutal settler colonial system.

As part of the efforts to empower Papuan mothers, President Jokowi in 2018 toured the five-story building which he ordered to be constructed two years earlier in Jayapura, the capital city.

As it was dedicated to Papuan mothers, it was named “Pasar mama-mama Papua” (Market for Papuan mothers).

The building can accommodate up to 300 traders. Each floor has been allocated for “mama mama Papua” to sell their produce and to display cultural artifacts. The building also houses a school for Papuan children to learn.

Papuan mothers have unimaginable willpower and determination to compete with Indonesian settlers, who have almost total control of the economic system in West Papua.

Their lives and work are shaped by the realities of constant violence and inequality in one of the most heavily militarised regions in the world.

No matter what the odds are, Papuan mothers overcome them with grace and compassion.

This sacred power broke the heart of that young Indonesian woman living in the highlands of the Lani people.

Papuan mothers and their international students
Unfortunately, the majority of Papuan international students whose scholarship funds were threatened to be cut by President Jokowi’s administration are the sons or daughters of these mama-mama Papua.

The students who are now spread across different continents and countries, from North America, Russia, Asia, Europe and Oceania, have united under the name International Alliance of Papuan Student Associations Overseas (IAPSAO) and strongly condemn any slight alteration in the scholarship package that would have a crippling effect on their education.

These students overcome so many obstacles, from connecting to the right people within the brutal system, to leaving home, learning new languages, and adjusting to a new cultural system.

The constant loss of their family members back home takes a heavy toll on their studies.

Ali Mirin is one such student who is pursuing a master’s degree in International Relations at Flinders University in Adelaide, Australia.

Mirin came from the Kimyal tribe of Yahukimo region of West Papua. He came to Australia on a student visa in 2019 to study at Monash University in Melbourne but struggled to meet the English requirements.

The university placed him in an English language course before enrolling him in a master’s programme. In the end, he was trapped between international student agencies such as International Development Programme (IDP), university and immigration departments since his two-year required study visa had almost run out, though he had yet to complete his master’s degree.

It was not clear to them why he was not in a master’s programme, but he was struggling to make sense of all the information he was receiving from these various parties.

The combination of covid-19 lockdown, passing of family members in West Papua, frustration with adjusting into a new culture, along with inconsistency in scholarship funds nearly cost everything that his mother worked for to help him achieve this level of education.

Additionally, he had to find a part-time job in Melbourne just to survive and pay rent, which nearly led to his study visa being revoked.

Mirin’s case is only the tip of the iceberg in terms of the challenges faced by Papuan students studying overseas. Almost all Papuan students have dramatic and traumatic stories to share about the obstacles they faced just to receive a scholarship, let alone the difficulties of studying abroad.

Studying in first world industrialised countries like USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the UK, and Germany requires tremendous amounts of money, which the parents of these students will likely never be able to afford in their lifetime.

Papuan Governor Lukas Enembe implemented a policy in 2012 that allows these students to study abroad, based on his own educational struggles in West Papua, Indonesia, and Australia.

The governor knows and understands what it is like to be Papuan (especially from the highlands) and study in Indonesia, let alone overseas.

With all these tragic circumstances Papuans have endured for decades, when the Jakarta government withdraws scholarship funds or changes its policies, Papuan students are shattered.

Papuan mothers, who Jokowi calls “mama-mama”, are the ones most affected by the news of deported or failed Papuan students who are studying abroad.

A new policy needs new minds and hearts in Jakarta
The central government in Jakarta should listen to what students have to say as they clearly stated in Asia Pacific Report on January 27.

Indigenous Papuan representatives should oversee Indonesian and foreign agents and agencies that deal with students’ affairs. Because as long as they are not Papuan, whether Indonesian, American, Australian, or British, it will be difficult for them to fully comprehend the mental trauma and cultural issues that each of the students suffer due to the conditions at home.

Papuan students fail their studies or struggle with them, not because they are unintelligent, but because they are deeply traumatised by the abuse and persecution that their families endure at home.

Most of these result from decades of violence, torture, and denigration of their human value under Indonesia’s settler colonial system in their own homeland.

Whatever the number of expert reports on success and failure stories of education in West Papua, if students’ deepest issues are not being listened to or understood, how can we help them or hope to change things for the better?

The politicisation of these students will continue to cloud Jakarta’s judgment about West Papua as it has for 60 years. Elites in Jakarta forget that these people have no agenda to colonise the island of Java, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Ukraine or build nuclear weapons.

They simply want to live peacefully in their own land and pursue their education.

Jakarta’s policies in West Papua are largely influenced by fear, and worst of all, wrong ideas and misguided judgments. They should be more concerned about a potential global nuclear war between the Western Empire and its allies, and the emerging Chinese-led eastern empire, which poses an existential threat to everyone and everything on this planet.

Indonesians target the wrong people and attack the wrong places — West Papua is not your enemy.

Images of ‘Wonderful Indonesia; and West Papua torture
I wonder if Jakarta searched images of West Papua on Google if they would like what they see. Would they see the truth — the horror, torture, abuse, murder, and exploitation of Papuans at their own hands?

Or would they see their ideals reflected back to them, the current state of terrorism that they manufactured in stolen lands.

These images do not represent the true nature of West Papua and its people, it is Indonesia that is reflected in these images.

Indonesia’s famous national promotional image of “wonderful Indonesia” that has been marketed throughout the world can be best authenticated when it uses the situation in West Papua as a mirror in which to see what Indonesia really is.

This hallmark of Jakarta’s nation-building image of Indonesia, which has been marketed around the world, can be best comprehended when it uses West Papua’s reality as a mirror to show the reality of Indonesia. In any case,

It may represent Bali or Java, but for West Papua it is just an elaborate ploy to deceive people about the terror image they have been projecting in the region.

Yamin Kogoya is a West Papuan academic who has a Master of Applied Anthropology and Participatory Development from the Australian National University and who contributes to Asia Pacific Report. From the Lani tribe in the Papuan Highlands, he is currently living in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia.

• Other Yamin Kogoya articles

We woke to the news yesterday that the Australian government has negotiated with the designer of the Aboriginal flag Harold Thomas, and copyright for the flag will be transferred to the Commonwealth.

The government has now stated the flag is freely available for public use. Prime Minister Scott Morrison stated:

We’ve freed the Aboriginal flag for Australians.

While many Indigenous people are celebrating today and rejoicing in the idea the flag has been “freed,” I am not so sure.

• READ MORE: Henry Reynolds: Australia was founded on a hypocrisy that haunts us to this day

I think we should all take a moment to pause and consider what this new “ownership” might represent.

The flag was first flown at Victoria Square on Kaurna Country, on National Aborigines Day in July in 1971.

A brief history of the flag
The flag was first flown at Victoria Square on Kaurna Country, on National Aborigines Day in July in 1971.

In 1972, it became the official flag for the Aboriginal Tent Embassy which was established on Ngunnawal Country.

In 1995, William Hayden, Governor-General of Australia proclaimed both the Aboriginal flag and the Torres Strait Islander flag (designed by the late Bernard Manok as) “Flags of Australia” under the Flags Act 1953.

But the truth is the Aboriginal flag has always been our flag. We didn’t need an act of Parliament to recognise its significance.

But it doesn’t belong to “all Australians”. It was meant to belong to just us. https://t.co/mzpIg6hV7o

— Scott (@ScottTrindall) January 24, 2022

A national flag?
National flags are seen as sacred objects by many: in many countries, to desecrate the flag carries penalties. As citizens, we are expected to revere the national flag and to be proud of what it represents.

But the Australian national flag represents white sovereignty and a belief in national unity.

The national flag symbolises both patriotism and nationalism. Nowhere was this more evident than when Morrison wore a mask sporting the design of the flag. The flag/mask drapes his face with the most prominent national symbol for all to see.

When wearing this mask, the prime minister literally embodies the symbolism of nation and all that stands for.

The national flag is flown at schools and all prominent government buildings. It is, for many Australians, a site of heightened emotion where the main response is a sense of belonging to what Benedict Anderson called an “imagined community”.

Of course, the Union Jack is another nation’s flag. It belongs to the United Kingdom. It represents our dispossession and is a constant reminder of our forced and continued colonisation.

The Union Jack does not represent us, our history or our future aspirations.

Not only did they steal the land, they now own the symbol of the movement built to get that land back.

Happy 50 years

— My Land (@BundjalungBud) January 24, 2022

A symbol of strength
The Aboriginal flag is a symbol of our strength as an ancient people who preceded the symbolic and real effects of national borders.

The Aboriginal flag does not belong to all Australians. It belongs, like the land, to us as a symbol of our sovereignty. Morrision’s statement about having “freed” the flag for all is offensive.

It is ours; he has no authority to “free” it. The Aboriginal flag cannot just be “freed”. It is an emblem of our emotion, our loves and losses. It holds our faith, our hope and our future.

I grew up in the 1970s and 80s. When I saw the Aboriginal flag, I felt a sense of pride and belonging. As a young person, I wasn‘t aware there were any copyright issues or that there were legalities that needed to be considered.

I always knew I belonged to what the flag stood for: our survival, our resilience as Indigenous people, and our steadfastness in the face of the on-going and omnipresent colonial struggles that continue to affect us today.

The flag was created in protest against the very people who now own it. This isn’t a win for Blackfullas.

— Anton Schirripa (@YourUncleAnton) January 24, 2022

Our sorrows and our unity
On Australia Day, we see the Australian national flag waving take place. There is both banality and symbolism to this ritual.

For some, the flag is waved without thought as to what it might mean to others: it is just part of the ritual of the national holiday. For many, it is emotionally charged and can generate fervour and national pride.

I am not sure many people stop to think about the flag’s design, its history or what it might mean to some non-white Australians.

But the design of the Aboriginal flag is intimately connected to our struggle for land rights.

The red represents the land, the yellow the life-giving sun and the black Aboriginal people.

The flag is a symbol of our unceded sovereignty of our lands. It represents a powerful symbol of resistance in our ongoing battle with the Crown in terms of the unlawful claiming of our lands as terra nullius.

How is it possible it can be so seamlessly hijacked in order to be incorporated — “freed” — into another set of meanings? Allowed onto the market for anyone to use? I see this act of “freeing” our flag as an act of arrogance at the very least.

One could also say it is a violent appropriation of what Aboriginal people deem to be a symbol of reverence.

As someone who is currently property of the colonial State, let me tell you that the flag now being owned by the gubbas does not make it free.

This is not a win.

This is not freedom.

— Disposable Human (@haveachattabs) January 24, 2022

Our flag contains our sorrows and our unity as a colonised people. It is not a “free-for-all” symbol. Nor is it a symbol that can be neatly injected into the national psyche as a means of expressing some kind of racial unity that overshadows the injustice and inequality Aboriginal people experience on a daily basis.

It is the fabric of our souls. When it flies, we can see ourselves in flight as we once were, free nations.

Dr Bronwyn Carlson is professor of Indigenous studies and director of the Centre for Global Indigenous Futures, Macquarie University. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.