http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Backchannels/2013/0405/A-gold-rush-in-Indonesia-you-ve-never-heard-of?nav=665237-csm_article-leftColRelated


A gold rush in Indonesia you've never heard of
Buru Island, once used by Soeharto's New Order regime to house political 
prisoners, has been swept with gold fever.

By Dan Murphy, Staff writer / April 5, 2013 

  a..  Halim and other miners stand on the stones containing gold materials at 
the site of Poboya gold mining area in Indonesia's Central Sulawesi province 
April 2012. 

Yusuf Ahmad/Reuters/File

Enlarge 
Ambon, Indonesia

I first became aware of the trouble on Bald Mountain a few days ago.


04.09.13
Heavy metal, Islamist politics, and democracy in Indonesia 

The Christian Science Monitor
Weekly Digital Edition
Sitting with a friend here in Ambon and talking about this region's vicious 
little sectarian conflict a decade ago and the largely successful efforts of 
Christian and Muslim leaders to heal a fractured community, I asked him about 
the central government's role in supporting that effort. He gave a slightly 
grim chuckle. "They'd rather pretend it never happened, and not think about 
taking steps to make sure it never happens again."

Then he asked me, with a mixture of amusement and frustration, if I'd heard of 
the Bandera RMS on Buru Island.

First some background. Ambon is the part of the Indonesia with the oldest, 
deepest Dutch footprint. The Dutch arrived here at the start of the 17th 
century with the intent to control the production of cloves and nutmeg, which 
led to this eastern Indonesian archipelago being called the Spice Islands for 
centuries. Among the legacies is that the native people of Maluku (as the 
region is now known, or in English, the Moluccas) are split between 
Christianity and Islam.

In the centuries of Dutch control, local Christians generally had more access 
to economic opportunities and education than local Muslims (a purely relative 
advantage of course; the average Ambonese Christian is about as poor as the 
average Ambonese Muslim today). Though there was plenty of Dutch brutality 
targeted at local Christians as there was toward local Muslims, by the time of 
World War II, many Ambonese Christians served in the Dutch colonial army. With 
the defeat of the Japanese (who had occupied Ambon and the surrounding islands) 
and the Dutch decolonization process, they were nervous about being integrated 
into the new nation of Indonesia, overwhelmingly Muslim and dominated by the 
Javanese.

Independence sentiment was strong in Ambon, particularly among former Dutch 
soldiers, and in 1950, a group of local notables declared independence as 
Republik Maluku Selatan (South Maluku Republic, RMS), expecting the Dutch to 
support their efforts. The Dutch did not, and the RMS was quickly crushed by 
the new state of Indonesia (though a few holdouts lingered in the wild interior 
of Ceram island until 1963). More than 10,000 Ambonese members of the Dutch 
army and their families were forced into exile in Holland (where they were held 
in squalid internment camps for about 20 years before the Dutch finally 
admitted they were never going home) by the politics of the time, and those men 
and their families came to harbor a dream of returning some day to their own 
independent state from a Holland that didn't want them.

There are still pockets of RMS sentiment among the former exiles in Holland, 
and here and there in Ambon. But the vast majority of Ambonese long ago 
accepted an Indonesian national identity, and the RMS exists pretty much as a 
bogeyman for the Indonesian military and central state, ever vigilant against 
independence sentiment. During the sectarian war here in 1999 and 2000, rumors 
stormed through the local Muslim community and among the soldiers and police 
stationed here from other parts of Indonesia that heavily armed separatist 
militias were being stood up with Dutch help, a false absurdity that helped add 
fuel to the conflict.

Which brings us back to the Bandera RMS. "Bandera" means flag in Indonesia, and 
17 people were severely beaten and arrested by Indonesian soldiers on the 
island of Buru, a few hours by ferry from Ambon, for raising the RMS flag this 
week. It was a strange story. Buru wasn't even a hotbed of RMS activity in its 
heyday in the 1950s. It is best known for the political prison camp where the 
Soeharto regime housed many alleged communists and other political prisoners 
after the 1965 coup that brought him to power, most famously the chronicler of 
the Indonesian colonial experience Pramoedya Ananta Toer, who wrote some of his 
best-known works there while serving a decade in detention.

What's more, the detained men were poor wildcat gold miners from Java and South 
Sulawesi, overwhelmingly Muslim and with no ties to this region's history. It 
turns out they were fans of the French national soccer team, and had raised a 
French flag ahead of the World Cup qualifier between France and Spain, which 
they'd hoped to watch as a respite from their back-breaking toil.

My friend shared the story as example of the paranoia and lack of thought that 
are so often exhibited by central government authorities and that often end up 
creating conflicts. The story was apparently picked up in the national press, 
with speculation that a new separatist push was in the offing, before the sad 
reality of what happened came to light.

But I'd never heard of gold mining on Buru, and started to ask around. In late 
2011, a local man on the island found a large gold nugget on Gunun Botak, or 
Bald Mountain, so named because of its lack of tall vegetation (such vegetative 
anomalies are sometimes a sign of mineral deposits). By the middle of last 
year, the island was seized with gold fever, with scenes reminiscent of the 
gold rush in the Sierra Nevadas in 1849 or around Bathurst, Australia, in 1851, 
when men abandoned jobs and farms to head into the bush to start digging their 
fortunes.

Within months, Buru's population had swollen from 90,000 to an estimated 
130,000, with poor Indonesians arriving from all corners. Local residents have 
abandoned their gardens and rice fields. The mining operations are illegal and 
unregulated, though locals say the Indonesian military has been taking a cut of 
the profits in exchange for turning a blind eye (standard practice in my decade 
in Indonesia between 1993-2003).

They are also very dangerous. Clashes over gold claims left around a dozen 
people there dead last year, and locals say that hundreds more have died when 
their rudimentary digs have collapsed.

There is little to no sanitation in the area, and local health authorities are 
worried about a cholera outbreak. Worst, from a long-term perspective, is the 
large amounts of mercury being used to extract gold from crushed rocks. Suara 
Maluku, one of the main daily newspapers here, carries a story today about 
concerns that mercury is leaching into the islands water supply.

Well, there ain't separatists in them there hills. And there is gold. But there 
are also the seeds of real trouble.


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