Page 2 of 2 AN ATol INVESTIGATION Fools' gold in Indonesia
By Melody Kemp
ensure that an AMDAL is done. But sometimes the committee members try to follow
the wishes of the investor and are not always objective."
"The investors promise good things for the people, housing wealth and other
good things. But usually this does not happen," he said. "I know there is still
a big question about whether there are minerals in Lembata. I think he [Merukh]
says this just to get investment."
Other officials share a similar sentiment. Sembiring, the recently retired head
of the Department of Minerals in Bandung, said: "There are no proven minerals
in Lembata. But there are rumors of bribery."
"Mr Merukh has a bad reputation in mining circles, so I do not care what he
says. The mine will not go ahead. I give you a guarantee. There will be no
mine. The people have the last say
and if they do agree there will be no mine. There is no contract of work [COW].
It would have to be issued by the national government to the investor. I know a
COW has not been issued, nor will it be. Merukh is not being honest if he says
it is going ahead."
Controversial tactics
Such hard commentary is rare about a man who was a close associate of former
authoritarian leader Suharto and thought to have been a deliberate
destabilizing influence on the major opposition Indonesian Democratic Party of
Struggle (PDI-P), led by former president Megawati Sukarnoputri. Merukh had
insisted in the past that more than 300 members of the PDI-P were communists, a
heavy allegation in light of the anti-communist purges that left hundreds of
thousands dead in the late 1960s.
Merukh insists that opposition to his proposed mining venture in Lembata has
been manipulated by unnamed "US mining interests" or Catholic clergy afraid
that the shower of wealth on the local population will undermine their power
base. According to an interview he gave to Indonesia's Investor Daily, Merukh
wants to excavate "at least 75% of the island's mass, maybe all of it", to find
the gold, and in his words, "shift the domination of US mining".
If he has his way, the project would require relocating around 60,000 of the
island's residents to nearby Flores island, where he promises to build
apartments and schools for the community. When asked recently by a
non-governmental activist, who requested anonymity, Merukh was neither clear
about how he would procure the proposed site on Flores, which, like land on
Lembata, is owned by traditional clans under nationally recognized ownership
rules, nor what he proposed relocated fishermen and farmers would do for their
livelihoods there.
Farmers in Lembata said in mid-October this year that they had not yet been
approached by any company representatives requesting to buy their land. To
transport the mined gold, Murkah plans to build a dedicated port in a
six-hectare shallow area right next to a Japanese pearl farm. The pristine
reef, which has a depth of 1.5 meters for over 500 meters, would need to be
blasted to make a channel deep enough to carry deep-hulled ships.
His plans also include building a large international airport on the site of a
Japanese-built World War II airstrip in Lembata. The runway would terminate at
the base of Ile Api, the island's impressive guardian volcano, which is still
active and emits a steady plume of white steam. Baru Tara, a volcanic island
only 50 kilometers to the north, has recorded recent eruptions and the whole
area is prone to continual tectonic burbling.
A traditional leader known locally as a kepala adat signaled that he
wanted to speak at a village meeting at a church outside of Lembata's capital
of Lewoleba. His face was framed by a wide-brimmed canvas hat and his trousers
hung loose on his skinny frame. The old man's voice was weak in the large
village space, but his message was strong. "Our ancestors have taken care of
this land for us for thousands of years. We have all those things we need to
live a peaceful life. Until the end of time we will defend our land."
Women in their bunched hand-woven sarongs, dyed in indigo and burgundy,
murmured and nodded in agreement while a visiting priest from Indonesia's main
island of Java gave a sermon that sounded as though it was written by a
conservation foundation.
Bapak Abu, who hails from the hilly Balauring area believed to be the first
area set for exploitation, has consistently opposed the mine. He and his family
have become powerful symbols of local resistance. "Our mother Earth can only
give birth to one world. We have to take care of it for our children and
grandchildren." he said.
"When I went to talk to the bupati, he threatened me, saying that the
company would bring in US troops to force us to agree. But I said that I am
protected by Allah, the ancestors and Mother Nature. Even if they call 10,000
American soldiers I cannot agree. Even if they offer me three million dollars I
will not agree." Another activist on the island related incidents of apparent
official intimidation, including being followed, receiving death threats on
their cell phones and having rocks thrown though their home windows.
Bapak Abu handed me an envelope stuffed full of 1 million rupiah (US$120) bank
notes, a considerable sum by local standards. He said it was given to him as a
gift from the bupati and that he was told it would be followed by 10
million rupiah more if he agreed to the mine. Lembata's bupati, Andreas
Duli Manuk, did not respond to repeated calls and interviews for this article.
Several weeks earlier, two young would-be assassins had confessed their mission
to kill Bapak Abu over his resistance to the mine. Their fee, they said, was a
paltry 250,000 rupiah each. "I do not know who asked them to kill me, nor do I
care," Bapak Abu said, his somnolent face grizzled and lined. "The police
called me to sign a report, but I wouldn't do it. The report was too
political."
He said the regional army, divisional police and intelligence agencies were all
involved with threats and intimidation to people opposed to the mine, and that
a neighbor who refused to sign his land over was recently found dead in his
bed.
"He would not sign. They called him to Lewoleba. We thought he was asleep, but
he did not get up to eat. He had a broken jaw and neck. We don't know what
happened."
Ritual opposition
The only local legislative member opposed to the mine is Alwi Murih. He
presented many probing questions about the project: "How can they build a mine
if they haven't talked to any of the people about land? What is the deal
between the regent and Merukh? Why is he pushing so hard for something the
people just don't want?"
Ibu Anastasia Gea Atawolo, 51, is among the disaffected locals. Her serious
face was lined and anxiety crossed her eyes like cobwebs. In a patriarchal
culture, she is the sole woman village head and her Lamadale village is one of
those slated to become a hole in the ground if the mine goes through.
She sat and watched as dignified old men and women danced in lock step, their
arms linked tightly as they called on their ancestors to protect their land.
Gradually the drumming speeded up and the dust rose around their feet. The
crowd fell silent watching them.
Ibu Anasatasi pointed to her smooth-skinned 81-year-old mother. "She has lived
here all her life. She cannot move. She does not want to move. She, like all of
us, wants to be buried here. This is where we belong." She gestured towards the
dancers. "They are concentrating the energy of five villages to preserve our
life and the old ways."
"We have no future anywhere else. Five villages have joined with us in going to
see the bupati, but he refused to argue with us. He would not even come
out to meet us. He hid inside.
"The usual thing is for the government to come and talk to us: tell us what is
happening and seek our participation, to negotiate and see what impact it would
have on our lives. We are told instead that they will start to mine in 2009,
some say as early as December this year. But we have not been asked or
consulted. We have seen no offers for land, but we would not sell," she said.
Some hope for a democratic resolution to the conflict. Bediona Philippus is
running to replace Andreas Duli Manuk as Lembata's regent at the 2009 regional
elections. A university-educated man who has worked for major donor-funded
projects in Jakarta, Philippus is serious about his island's future and now
heads the local NGO forum.
"Merukh invited me to visit Sumbawa to see the mine, but I was convinced that
he would orchestrate an accident, so I didn't go."
Philippus agrees that outside geological reports conflict with Merukh's claims.
"But the bupati has passed three decrees which pave the way for
exploration, so the process is unstoppable. He is really pushing. We don't know
why. But if they go ahead, there will be war."
A marine park is being planned for the same area, which has some of Indonesia's
last remaining intact coral reefs and pristine marine resources, believed to be
some of the best scuba diving in the world. The location and proposed extent of
the mine would make it difficult if not impossible to build containment walls
to prevent the tailings from polluting the clear blue waters.
The seas here are also globally important breeding grounds for migratory
whales: if the mine used submarine tailings disposal, as some suspect, the
noise and debris could spell an end to whales visiting in the area and to the
culture of traditional whaling in Lamalera.
It seems unlikely that the local officials who ardently support the mine are
unaware of the geological reports contesting the existence of deep gold stores.
Merukh, who is bidding to bring in international investors to finance the
project, has so far chosen to ignore the widespread skepticism and resistance.
It is still possible that Merukh, who is now in his seventies, will be curbed
through a combination of grassroots resistance and the global economic
downturn, which has hit global commodity prices hard, though gold prices remain
buoyant. It's also possible the situation spirals towards violence, as in
former controversial ventures.
To the isolated people of Lembata, the world outside of their island is of
little consequence. They are so poor that they are essentially external to the
global economic crisis and are at risk of losing their modest traditional
livelihoods. As NGO coordinator and electoral hopeful Philippus said: "The
people are more afraid of adat [tradition] than they are of guns."
Melody Kemp lived in Indonesia for 11 years. She now lives in Laos, from
where she writes on geographical issues.
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