JUST what is going on in Indonesia’s half of New Guinea? In response to persistent reports of human rights violations by security forces, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono went on record in January as saying that there were “no gross human rights violations” in the area.

To the casual observer, it seemed like a strange thing to say. After all, Komnas HAM, the government’s own human rights body, had just released a statement warning that human rights violations in the restive province would likely continue in the new year.

Of the cases investigated by Komnas HAM last year, perhaps the most widely publicised was the violent crackdown by security forces on a peaceful pro-independence gathering of 5,000 indigenous Papuans on Oct 19. Local television footage showed participants declaring the region’s independence in Jayapura, the largest city in the area. Paramilitary police were then shown shooting into the crowd and beating participants with batons and bare fists. The crackdown left three people dead and 90 injured.

Informally known as West Papua, the region forms the western half of New Guinea island. It is officially administered as two provinces: Papua and West Papua.

In 1969, Indonesia took control of the area from the Dutch after a controversial vote among a select group of largely uneducated native leaders. It has since been the scene of a poorly armed and coordinated pro-independence movement. Papuans, mostly indigenous Melanesians, also complain that the bulk of earnings from its rich natural resources flows to the capital.

Reports of beatings and murders of secessionist leaders, allegedly at the hands of members of the security forces, are common. Foreign journalists are not allowed into the area, and local journalists routinely complain of intimidation.

In the early morning hours of March 3, for example, Indonesian journalist Banjir Ambarita was stabbed outside the mayor’s office in Jayapura while he was on his way home. Reporting for both the Bintang Papua, a local newspaper, and the Jakarta Globe, he had been writing stories about human rights violations involving local police.

In denying the existence of gross human rights violations, however, President Yudhoyono was technically correct. As Amnesty International representative Joseph Benedict explained to me last week, the phrase “gross human rights violation” is a legal term normally restricted to genocide or other systematic and widespread violations of the type seen in countries such as Cambodia, Bosnia and Rwanda.

Few would argue that the situation in Papua and West Papua is as bad as that.

But by resorting to legal technicalities to justify the lack of criminal charges being brought against human rights violators, the president also inadvertently highlighted an important issue.

Komnas HAM has the power to investigate allegations of human rights abuses across Indonesia. But it can only recommend to the Attorney-General that violators be prosecuted when such abuses fall under the definition of gross human rights violations as set out in the human rights law of 2000.

In practice, this means that Komnas HAM can do little more than submit its findings to the local police. Punishments are usually light. In one case reported by Mr Ambarita, three police officers forced a female detainee to perform oral sex on them over a three-month period from November 2010 to January 2011 at the Jayapura detention centre. The officers involved were reportedly given only disciplinary punishments of 21 days’ detention and a delay of their promotions.

Amnesty International’s Mr Benedict wants Komnas HAM to be given the same powers as the National Anti-Corruption Commission (KPK). In other words, it should have the right to recommend prosecution in all cases for which it has gathered sufficient evidence. Amnesty also wants soldiers accused of human rights abuses to be tried in independent civilian rather than military courts.

Safety guarantees for witnesses would also help. Earlier this year, three soldiers went on trial after a video posted on YouTube showed them burning and kicking Papuan villagers. But witnesses were too frightened to appear in court.

Finally, there is the need to obtain reliable information. Last month, when a local film maker released a documentary in Jakarta detailing the struggle of workers at Freeport’s controversial Grasberg mine, the company accused him of failing to get his facts right and omitting crucial information.

But with tough restrictions placed on journalists and human rights groups, it takes a very generous spirit to give those accused the benefit of the doubt. The last time Amnesty officials were permitted to enter the area was in 2002. Mr Benedict says the organisation has since been forced to rely on local lawyers to confirm the reports it receives.

In September last year, President Yudhoyono set up a special presidential unit aimed at accelerating economic development of the region. A similar emphasis on human rights seems well overdue.

(C) Singapore Press Holdings Limited