By Elena Artibani Academy Analyst Assistant and Mercè Monje Cano UNPO Secretary General with the collaboration of Acheh-Sumatra National Liberation Front, West Papua Human Rights Center and Moluccan Human Rigths Organization Perintis Aksi Kilat
Introduction
Self-determination is the right of peoples to determine their future. It is not only a fundamental human right, enshrined in the UN Charter and international law, but also a cornerstone for building sustainable peace. Upholding this principle means directly addressing the root causes of instability: exclusion, denial of identity and the systematic stripping of political agency.
In many post-colonial and post-conflict contexts, unresolved questions of self-determination return with force, undermining governance and obstructing stability. Conversely, where pathways to meaningful self-determination are recognized, through autonomy, power-sharing, or cultural rights, states and communities are better equipped to accommodate diversity, build trust and pursue inclusive development.
Self-determination cannot be understood in isolation from the historical injustices of colonialism that continue to shape global politics. Borders drawn without the consent of peoples created fragile states that remain vulnerable to unrest. Addressing these legacies is not only about justice for the past but also about preventing conflicts from spreading in today’s volatile international order.
Indonesia presents a striking paradox. On the international stage, it projects an image of democratic stability and commitment to sustainable development. Domestically, however, it continues to suppress the voices of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas, territories whose unresolved struggles for self-determination stem from colonial legacies. This contradiction is not merely rhetorical, it carries real geopolitical risks. Sustained repression in one of the world’s most strategically vital regions could destabilize Southeast Asia, disrupt global trade, weaken climate responses and undermine faith in international governance itself.
The Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO), with 35 years of experience, has consistently shown that ignoring these claims does not resolve them, it deepens mistrust and instability. When respected, self-determination becomes a driver of innovation in governance, a catalyst for reconciliation, and a foundation for peace and stability.
The Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO), with 35 years of experience, has consistently shown that ignoring these claims does not resolve them; it deepens mistrust and instability. This report, beyond informing the international community about the situation of our members, has a primary objective: to emphasize that the stability of regions around the world is a matter of public interest, irrespective of political alignment or the agendas of national governments. Understanding that stability can only be achieved through dialogue and diplomacy is essential, because it forms the foundation for all investments and political strategies. When respected, self-determination becomes not only a moral and legal imperative but also a driver of innovation in governance, a catalyst for reconciliation, and a foundation for lasting peace and stability.
At the Crossroads: Peoples’ Rights, State Power, and Global Stability
Indonesia currently positions itself as one of the most influential emerging actors on the global stage. As a member of the G20 and a recent addition to the BRICS+ group in January 2025, it strengthens its strategic relevance through economic and diplomatic alliances with major global powers such as China, Russia, India, and the Gulf States. Looking ahead, Jakarta has set an ambitious long-term objective: by 2045, Indonesia aims to become one of the world’s top ten economically developed nations, aspiring to surpass at least a half of the G20 members in terms of economic performance and global influence. This vision is rooted in the so-called “Golden Indonesia 2045” agenda, which emphasizes industrial modernization, digital transformation, and the exploitation of its vast natural resources, particularly nickel and other critical minerals, positioning the country as a pivotal hub in the global green and digital economy.
This international projection, coupled with a narrative of democratic stability and sustainable development, has helped shape a dominant image in the eyes of the international community and major global stakeholders. Yet, this image conceals grave human rights violations within Indonesia’s borders, including the denial of the right to self-determination for peoples whose struggles date back to the colonial era. West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas stand as emblematic examples: marginalized, militarized, and systematically silenced territories, despite being at the heart of persistent demands for self-determination.
To blunt, alter, or even threaten this image of regional power is precisely Indonesia’s internal stability. Since late August 2025, widespread protests have erupted across the country. Initially triggered by a controversial parliamentary bonus intended to cover legislators’ rent, popular outrage quickly evolved into a broader expression of dissatisfaction with a system perceived as corrupt and unresponsive to the population’s struggles. The combination of unpopular policies, a stagnating economy and a leadership viewed as increasingly rigid has created fertile ground for social unrest. The ostentatious display of wealth by the political elite has acted as a catalyst for protests rooted in deeper social and economic inequalities. These demonstrations now represent a critical moment for the president’s political future. Without internal stability, the government will be unable to realize the ambitious economic vision it has planned. Despite Indonesia’s strong regional position in the Indo-Pacific, any domestic instability, whether arising from marginalized peoples or from unrest within Jakarta itself, threatens to generate stagnation and setbacks for both the central government and its foreign policy objectives.
The governance model adopted by Jakarta in its peripheral regions is rooted in a repressive and centralist structure, marked by the militarization of territories, strict population control, institutional impunity, pervasive surveillance and systematic restrictions on civil and political freedoms. Within this framework, the indigenous peoples of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas report forced land dispossession, widespread deforestation and the appropriation of water and environmental resources, all of which serve the interests of an extractive economy that prioritizes transnational capital and metropolitan elites. These dynamics result in the daily erosion of local community sovereignty and a severe deterioration in living conditions, public health and livelihoods. Yet, this system cannot be fully understood without considering its historical roots: modern Indonesia’s state borders are grounded in a particularly violent colonial past, shaped by over three centuries of Dutch rule. Upon gaining independence, the Indonesian state inherited and repurposed many of the same repressive colonial structures to consolidate political and territorial control over historically autonomous or culturally distinct regions such as West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas. In this sense, colonial practices, administrative centralization, economic exploitation and denial of cultural identity, were preserved and redirected inward, manifesting as a form of internal colonialism that continues to define Jakarta’s policies toward the Papuan, Acehnese and Moluccan peoples.
According to numerous testimonies collected by independent observers, these activities do not simply represent systemic dysfunctions, but rather constitute an integral part of a structural project aimed at the cultural and physical erasure of the indigenous population, described by many as a “slow genocide.” The orchestration of environmental and social degradation is indistinguishable from a racist and exclusionary logic that seeks to systematically remove Indigenous communities from their ancestral lands and from their very existence as a peoples.
In the face of such serious violations, the Indonesian government systematically denies any responsibility, claiming that its actions fully comply with international law while portraying minority groups as rebellious or violent separatist movements. The manipulation of the official narrative, reinforced by tight control over information and the restriction of access to these regions by journalists, observers and NGOs, has made it extremely difficult to comprehensively document the extent of these abuses. The historical, cultural, and political claims of the peoples of West Papua, Acheh, and the South Moluccas are systematically delegitimized and criminalized, effectively obscuring the peaceful and legitimate nature of their struggles.
UNPO Members Situation
West Papua : Land, Identity and Militarization
West Papua remains one of the most overlooked and silenced regions in the world, where indigenous communities face longstanding human rights violations and a persistent denial of self-determination. Despite growing international awareness, the situation continues to deteriorate under policies that marginalize and dispossess the local population. Systemic repression and internal colonialism imposed by the Indonesian state on the indigenous people of West Papua continue to raise serious concerns. Environmental degradation, land dispossession, and cultural erasure appear to form part of a coordinated strategy to suppress Papuan identity and sovereignty.
This degradation is driven by three interlinked mechanisms: the large-scale extraction of gold, copper, and natural gas; the expansion of palm oil plantations and agribusiness through widespread deforestation and land grabs under food and development projects, all carried out without the free, prior, and informed consent of the affected communities.
These practices are not isolated violations but part of a broader strategy that seeks to remove West Papuans from their ancestral territories, dismantle their cultural and spiritual bonds with the land and silence their identity as a people. The Indonesian government claims to respect customary land rights, yet denies indigenous sovereignty and enforces absolute control over the region, in contradiction with international norms such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
West Papua is also one of the most heavily militarized regions in Indonesia. In early 2025, reports indicated the deployment of around 6,100 members of the Indonesian armed forces (TNI), in addition to existing police and Brimob units. This overwhelming security presence has fostered a climate of fear, marked by extrajudicial killings, arbitrary arrests, torture, and enforced disappearances. Military operations in remote areas have displaced thousands, particularly affecting children, women, and the elderly, many of whom are left without access to basic services.
At the same time, freedom of expression is systematically repressed. Peaceful demonstrations for Papuan self-determination are criminalized, and identity symbols such as the Morning Star flag are banned, with harsh penalties for so-called treason. Activists, students and community leaders are frequently targeted simply for expressing dissent, while access for journalists and international observers remains heavily restricted. In this context, the West Papua Human Rights Center, acting on behalf of the Papuan people, has consistently reaffirmed its commitment to peace and diplomacy. Through the initiative known as The Washington Solution, it has proposed the opening of a structured dialogue with the Republic of Indonesia, mediated by a neutral third party, preferably the United States. This framework represents a genuine attempt to achieve a durable political settlement. Yet, despite such peaceful overtures, the Indonesian government continues to deny Papuans even their most fundamental right: to be heard.
What is happening in West Papua cannot be separated from a broader pattern of internal colonialism and racialized exclusion. Land dispossession here means more than the loss of property, it represents the systematic destruction of memory, dignity and existence. No land appropriation takes place without depriving a people of their ancestors, their knowledge and language, their opportunities for decent work, their freedom and identity, and even their spirit. Increasingly divisive racialization is one of the forms taken by industrial development in West Papua.
Acheh: and Incomplete Peace
Unlike West Papua, which enjoys at least some international visibility, even if without any real concrete effects, the Acheh region remains largely ignored and unknown outside Indonesia’s borders. Yet it is an area with a long tradition of political autonomy, now suffocated by forms of control and centralization imposed by Jakarta. After the end of Dutch colonial rule, Aceh was incorporated into the Republic of Indonesia without any real consultation with the local population. This forced integration gave rise to lasting tensions, fueled by profound political, economic, and cultural marginalization, which continues today in the form of internal colonialism.
Despite the 2005 peace agreement between the Indonesian government and the independence movement GAM (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka), the region continues to live under a heavy military presence. Promises of disarmament, justice, and autonomy remain largely unfulfilled. The unresolved legacy of past conflicts continues to haunt local communities, where human rights violations such as enforced disappearances, torture, and extrajudicial killings remain unpunished, perpetuating a culture of impunity and undermining trust in state institutions. Indonesian security forces continue to exercise informal authority over local affairs, limiting civic space and suppressing political pluralism under the pretext of national unity.
As for the latest developments in Acheh, the most pressing issue right now is the addition or formation of five new military battalions in the region. This move has been strongly rejected by Acehnese civil society, which sees it as a direct violation of the Helsinki MoU, a peace agreement signed between the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) and the Government of Indonesia two decades ago. Despite being in breach of the agreement, the Indonesian government insists on proceeding, justifying the move as part of a broader national restructuring of the Indonesian Army’s organization, including the creation of new territorial units. The military has argued that Acheh’s strategic location on Indonesia’s western flank, near the Indian Ocean and the Strait of Malacca, requires such reinforcements. Civil society in Acheh strongly opposes this militarization, denouncing it as a violation of the Helsinki MoU, imposed without public consultation, and a reopening of historical wounds. The people of Acheh have repeatedly witnessed violations of the peace agreement, particularly by the military, since it was signed, and the addition of new battalions is widely perceived as yet another act of bad faith that undermines both local autonomy and the fragile peace.
Restrictions are also obvious on a political level. Local parties that are inspired by Achehnese ideals or that question Jakarta’s centralism are often hindered by legal and bureaucratic means. Speaking openly about independence remains taboo and leads to legal consequences. The population denounces the failure to comply with the Helsinki Agreement, particularly with regard to the autonomous management of natural resources and the preservation of historical memory.
The Aceh issue is not a matter of “separatism,” a label frequently used by the Indonesian government and echoed by the media to delegitimize the struggle of a people whose fundamental rights remain unfulfilled. In reality, Aceh’s challenges stem from denied self-determination and incomplete decolonization. The Achehnese, who have resisted foreign powers for centuries while maintaining a distinct identity, deserve to have their legitimate demands for self-determination and justice recognized. Respecting these demands does not imply supporting division; rather, it affirms the fundamental right of every people to determine their own future.
To suppress these aspirations, the Indonesian government often deploys hate speech and manipulates mainstream narratives, a tactic mirrored globally, as documented in UNPO’s Tools of Repression report. Criminal justice and security apparatuses are frequently misused to delegitimize nonviolent self-determination movements, curtail free expression, and criminalize peaceful activism. By framing resistance as a threat to national unity, authorities obscure the democratic nature of the struggle, divert attention from systemic grievances, and normalize repression, leaving activists vulnerable to surveillance, arbitrary arrest, and fabricated charges of treason or terrorism.
Yet, the reality remains: this is a struggle for self-determination and rectification of incomplete decolonization. The Achehnese have resisted successive external dominations for centuries and preserved a distinct cultural and political identity despite immense pressures. Recognizing their demands is not an endorsement of fragmentation, but a reaffirmation of the universal right of all peoples to chart their own course through peaceful and inclusive means.
South Moluccas: Silenced Struggles
Much like Aceh, the South Moluccas remain largely invisible to the international community, despite being subjected to systematic repression and silencing of their identity and political aspirations.
The declaration of independence in 1950 by the Republic of South Moluccas (RMS) marked the beginning of a prolonged struggle for international recognition of their right to self-determination. It is important to underline that the proclamation of the RMS on April 25th, 1950 actually preceded the proclamation of the unitary Republic of Indonesia on August 17th, 1950 by four months. This historical fact means that the South Moluccas declared and obtained their independence before Jakarta itself. While the initial declaration of Indonesian independence occurred on August 17th, 1945, the 1950 date represents the final consolidation of the state and the severing of most constitutional ties with the Netherlands, thus establishing Indonesia as a unified, independent nation. Furthermore, at the moment when Indonesia proclaimed its own independence, it was agreed that several islands, including the South Moluccas, would retain a degree of autonomy rather than being fully integrated into the central state. However, these commitments were not respected, and the Indonesian government quickly moved to consolidate its authority over the entire archipelago. The military occupation of the South Moluccas in 1951, followed by the forced dissolution of their independent institutions, marked the beginning of a long period of denial of their right to self-determination. The subsequent establishment of a government in exile in the Netherlands in 1966 further complicated the political landscape. Despite these historical and political challenges, the South Moluccan people have continued to assert their identity, preserve their culture, and pursue international recognition for their cause.
This persistence has been met with harsh repression by the Indonesian state. Any public expression of support for the RMS, even symbolic and nonviolent, is treated as a criminal offense. A notorious example is the case of Johan Teterissa, who was sentenced to life imprisonment in 2007 for raising the RMS flag during a peaceful dance performance. More recently, in May 2024, 15-year-old Khoider Ali Ringirfuryaan was detained simply for displaying the RMS flag during a public event, demonstrating the indiscriminate and punitive nature of Jakarta’s crackdown. By March 2025, one Moluccan Political Prisoner and eight Adat activists remained imprisoned across Ceram, Ambon, and Ternate, including eight Togutil activists from Halmahera serving sentences ranging from 20 years to life. These cases demonstrate the systematic criminalization of peaceful activism, cultural identity, and collective rights in the South Moluccas.
Such acts are routinely prosecuted under colonial-era anti-secession laws, which carry sentences of up to 20 years or even life imprisonment. The criminalization of political symbols, the use of anti-terror police units against nonviolent activists and the absence of fair trial guarantees have led to the imprisonment and mistreatment of dozens of Moluccan individuals, many of whom are considered political prisoners by human rights organizations.
The Southern Moluccas also suffer from chronic economic and infrastructural marginalization compared to other Indonesian regions. Local communities report discrimination in access to education, healthcare and the labor market. The lack of targeted investment to support indigenous communities reinforces a vicious cycle of social exclusion and impoverishment.
Why These Struggles Matter for Everyone
The repression of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas is not a distant regional issue; it is a warning. Many modern states, whose constitutions and foundations are products of recent history, continue to rely on the very mechanisms of repression once employed by their colonial rulers to silence, marginalize and subjugate entire communities. Indonesia provides a striking example of this phenomenon, standing as a country that, once colonized, now reproduces forms of internal neocolonialism over these minority populations.
History shows us that when peoples are denied the right to determine their own future, the result is cycles of mistrust, exclusion and unresolved grievances. The period of decolonization, even if accelerated by the Cold War and the bipolar division of the world, revealed the profound inadequacy of colonial ideas in the context of modern historical realities. Then, as today, the continuation of centralized control, repression and the denial of self-determination inevitably leads to conflict, unrest and resistance. Moreover, the use of every possible means to suppress the dignity of peoples, seizing their lands and resources, silencing their voices and criminalizing their identities, may appear to secure control in the short term but it weakens institutions, corrodes legitimacy and creates vulnerabilities that undermine long-term stability.
Indonesia’s long-term ambitions, encapsulated in its Golden Vision 2045 and reinforced by its membership in the G20, make its internal stability a matter of global concern. This is why the situation in Indonesia should matter to everyone. As Southeast Asia’s largest country and a central ASEAN actor, Indonesia’s internal cohesion is inseparable from regional stability. Its control of the Malacca, Sunda, and Lombok Straits places it at the crossroads of global trade and energy security, making instability within its borders a risk with global repercussions. At the same time, as the world’s third-largest democracy, Indonesia’s contradictions, projecting democratic values abroad while silencing minorities at home, erode the credibility of democracy itself. By excluding Indigenous communities from decisions over their lands, Jakarta not only undermines global climate resilience but also endangers some of the world’s richest ecosystems.
The implications are therefore far-reaching. Defending the rights of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas is not only about justice for these communities, though their dignity and survival must remain at the center. It is also about strengthening democratic governance, protecting shared environmental resources, securing maritime trade routes and reinforcing the credibility of the international system. Left unresolved, these struggles risk becoming sources of instability that spill across borders; addressed with justice and dialogue, they could become examples of reconciliation and inclusive governance.
In today’s fragile geopolitical landscape, marked by great-power rivalries, climate emergencies, and the erosion of democratic norms, the stakes could not be higher. The responsibility cannot rest with politicians alone. It falls to governments, regional organizations, international institutions, and civil society to create the conditions for lasting solutions, through impartial mediation, meaningful dialogue, and recognition of historical injustices. Rethinking an international system that places peoples, not only states, at its center is no longer optional. It is the only way to ensure peace, justice, and genuine stability, within Indonesia, across Southeast Asia, and in the world at large
Building on Experience: Lessons from Timor-Leste
East Timor, former UNPO member, was also under Indonesian control until 1999. Annexed in 1975 following the end of Portuguese colonial rule, East Timor endured a brutal occupation marked by widespread human rights violations, disappearances, forced displacement and massacres. Despite Jakarta’s efforts to suppress the Timorese identity and aspirations for self-determination, the persistent and peaceful resistance of the East Timorese people, alongside growing international solidarity, ultimately led to a United Nations-supervised referendum, in which an overwhelming majority voted for independence. Far from destabilizing the region, this process laid the foundation for peace and marked a turning point not only for the Timorese themselves, but also for the international community, demonstrating that self-determination can serve as a legitimate and effective resolution to protracted conflict. The case of East Timor highlights the possibility, and the necessity, of addressing the demands of marginalized peoples not through repression, but through democratic recognition and international support.
This precedent demonstrates that repression cannot erase legitimate aspirations, and that democratic recognition, supported by neutral mediation and international involvement, provides the only sustainable path forward. It also shows the positive impact for the international community: Timor-Leste became a constructive regional partner, a supporter of peacebuilding, and an example of successful decolonization in the modern era.
Conclusion
The Indonesian government’s treatment of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas goes beyond repression: it erases historical memory, delegitimizes peaceful resistance, and criminalizes cultural expression. Public debate on self-determination is silenced, leaving these communities trapped in compromised spaces where their fundamental rights are constantly denied. For more than three decades, the Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO) has raised the alarm about these violations, not only to defend the dignity and safety of the peoples concerned, but also because their repression carries consequences for us all.
The lesson of our former member, Timor-Leste, makes this clear. Despite decades of occupation and systematic efforts to suppress their identity, the Timorese people, through peaceful resistance and international solidarity, won the opportunity to freely decide their future in a UN-supervised referendum. Far from destabilizing the region, this process laid the foundation for reconciliation and regional stability. It demonstrated that self-determination is not a threat, but the only viable path to peace.
Indonesia today faces the same choice. It aspires to be among the world’s top five economies by 2045, yet such ambitions cannot be achieved while entire peoples are excluded and suppressed. Prioritizing internal stability through dialogue, respect, and recognition of rights is not only a moral obligation, it is a strategic necessity for prosperity and credibility. For Indonesia, addressing historical injustices in West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas is inseparable from securing its long-term future.
Recognizing these communities’ right to self-determination also means creating genuine mechanisms for them to express their will. A meaningful and transparent process, such as a referendum or other forms of inclusive consultation, would allow the people of West Papua, Aceh, and the South Moluccas to articulate their aspirations without fear or coercion. Such democratic exercises can serve as a foundation for renewed legitimacy, transforming contested relationships into negotiated partnerships. By allowing these voices to be heard, Jakarta would not only address long-standing grievances but also demonstrate confidence in democratic principles, turning potential sources of conflict into opportunities for reconciliation and sustainable peace.
But this challenge is not Indonesia’s alone. The use of every possible means to silence communities, seize their resources, and deny their identity is not only morally unacceptable, it is also unsustainable. Left unresolved, these conflicts weaken regional cohesion, threaten global trade through strategic maritime routes, undermine climate action, and erode the credibility of democracy and international law. Conversely, recognizing the rights of these peoples and supporting inclusive governance strengthens resilience, security, and sustainability for all.
Lasting solutions will require meaningful dialogue between Indonesia and the affected communities, supported by impartial third-party mediation. Here, the international community must not remain passive. Governments, multilateral institutions, civil society, and citizens alike share responsibility in creating the conditions for reconciliation: condemning violations, ensuring accountability, supporting democratic processes, and amplifying the voices of unrepresented peoples.
UNPO INSIGHT
The situation in Indonesia and within the communities above mentioned, is part of a wider global test. It forces us to ask whether we continue to privilege state sovereignty over peoples’ rights, or whether we begin to build an international system where peoples themselves are placed at the center. For too long, international relations have been dominated by the interests of governments, often at the expense of the communities they claim to represent. UNPO’s vision is to reverse this logic: to ensure that peoples, especially those historically silenced, become active participants in shaping decisions that affect their futures.
If we are serious about preventing instability and ensuring peace, this rethinking is no longer optional. A peoples-centered system would mean more inclusive governance at the global level, stronger mechanisms for dialogue and mediation, and a renewed commitment to human rights as the foundation of stability. The dignity and self-determination of peoples are not only matters of justice for those directly affected, they are the cornerstone of security, sustainability, and peace for the world as a whole.