Understanding the Timorese - Listening to Bishop Basilio Nacimento

Not long after the Portuguese arrived in Timor in the 15th century, the Catholic Church acted as a foundation for a society built on a complex patchwork of tribal, linguistic and cultural alliances. And at each turning point in the country's history the church turned out to be the unifying factor, the link or the power-maker. In the past, clergy support for the guerrilla movement’s struggle for independence had a decisive impact, as did its recent opposition to the previous government’s plans to regulate religious instruction in the classroom, marking the beginning of the end for Fretilin's term in office.

Statue of Christ on the bay near Dili.

© Hegel Goutier

Despite its angry reaction to the current government's generosity towards the Catholic Church, Fretilin's leaders are careful to pay reverential respect towards the clergy, knowing that they are a key link between the various leading political players as well as offering guidance to the nation.

Here, Bishop Basilio Nacimento, one of the main figureheads of the church, offers his views about the Timorese people and explains why their legendary air of serenity sometimes gives way to violent eruption.

Rift between the resistant movement at home and abroad.

The people of Timor had very high hopes. During the struggle the dream of gaining independence implied that all their needs would be met and every aspiration realised. However, the focus was on the struggle, not at all on the leadership. Those who stayed behind in Timor may have placed too much confidence in the diaspora [those in exile], while those outside the country may have succeeded in honing their diplomatic skills they did not have sufficient practical knowledge of future human resource requirements.

Independence also arrived very suddenly. There was a wide gulf between the views of those inside and those who had been outside the country. The political class was mainly comprised of people who had left the island and I think they had a poor understanding of what changes had occurred during their absence. Their strategy was built on the situation in Timor back in 1975.

National character

Our island’s rivers help to depict our national character. Here in Timor, the rivers are almost dry throughout the year, but when it rains and the water rushes down from the mountains -- pity those poor souls who try to cross its path. Like our rivers, most of the time we are kind and gentle, but from time our thoughts are seized by something inexplicable that alters our social behaviour.
Portuguese historians know us the best and their investigations have mostly focused on tiny kingdoms with an intricate structure of groups; clans that allowed no external interference in each other's affairs.

These clans managed to live together as a result of forging alliances, but as soon as problems arose, they would rise up against each other. A dispute could flare up over water, cattle, romantic attachments, etc. But in the end the people could always rely on a conflict resolution system: each clan's council of elders. There were symbols in which people saw deep meanings. Ours is a culture in which symbols are highly treasured.

Indonesia succeeded in shattering this symbolic culture of ours. The checks and balances, wisemen, old people and elders were replaced by a new system whose rules were a complete mystery to the people. We had our foundations swept away and we didn’t discover any new ones. The roots of this local, feudal authority still go deep. In Europe the courts are called upon to resolve disputes, but it is a new development for the Timorese people. In the event of violence people go to the police, but the law enforcement officers may refrain from making any arrests if nobody has been caught red-handed. But, according to local custom, this kind of dispute was very easily settled. Both sides had a chance to make their side of the story, and if the guilty party was found, the individual admitted to the wrongdoing and agreed to be penalised by sacrificing a chicken or a pig. The two groups would eat together and the problem was regarded as solved. The victim would feel recognised and fairly treated.

Since the time of the Portuguese, the Timorese have put up with what they regard as too many unresolved acts of injustice – too many unrequited wrongs. Consequently, people have seized upon the slightest opportunity to take revenge. And violence attracts violence. And each victim continues to burn with resentment at injustices that have not been put right.

When I offered advice to someone seeking vengeance, perhaps for an order (under the occupation) for a husband to be executed or a child to be arrested, I told him or her to lodge a complaint. The answer was always the same: ‘but father, who will believe me?’

The people are frustrated at these obstacles to their aspirations, their rights and their wellbeing. According to their culture, they will continue to suffer grief until the wrongdoer has recognised his crime. The day the wrongdoer acknowledges the victim and the deed his confession will be enough. The victim cries with the wrongdoer. As a victim my grief is assuaged.

Hegel Goutier

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