East Timor - who lit the fire?

East Timorese President Xanana Gusmao, right, says Timor Leste's problems are of its own making. Picture / Reuters

DILI - On Tuesday two weeks ago, following the fragmentation of the infant nation's Army of former guerilla fighters and new national soldiers, New Zealand Wing Commander Craig Basher and Lt Commander Wayne Burtton pulled their four-wheel-drive to a halt in the hills above the capital city of Dili and watched the start of the disintegration.

Rival Army factions were engaging each other in a furious firefight that marked the beginning of the end of the force that Basher and Burtton were in Timor Leste to train. Two soldiers, wounded by gunfire, staggered down the road and were rescued by the two New Zealanders.

In the city below, bullets whipped through streets as factions split the police apart and pitted colleague against colleague against soldier. Terrified Timorese packed their meagre belongings and fled to sanctuary in churches, schools, government offices - anywhere that offered even the slimmest hope of survival. Behind them came the gangs on a rampage of violence, arson, crime, payback and, as is becoming more apparent, the paid wishes of political masters.

On Thursday night - while the crisis caught the attention of the world, broke into the agenda of meetings between Australian Prime Minister John Howard and United States Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and Defence Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and commanded the attention of New Zealand's leaders - a party of senior Australian military officers landed at Dili airport. The fighting was so fierce the RAAF returned to Darwin, picked up a strong escort of special forces, and flew back into hell.

They collected the Australian Ambassador and his defence attache, and attached in convoy New Zealand Ambassador Ruth Nuttall and Jakarta-based defence attache Colonel John McLeod.

Their mission was to take the papers needed to authorise the intervention of foreign soldiers to the head of state and his senior ministers.

The group met Foreign Minister Dr Jose Ramos Horta at the airport and discussed the situation and the requirements Australia needed to be met before it committed its forces for the second time in seven years. Canberra wanted the signatures of President Xanana Gusmao, Prime Minister Mari Alkatiri, and the Speaker of the Parliament. Ramos Horta made the arrangements.

On the way up the hills to Xanana's home the convoy came under fire.

"You could see the tracer coming up the hill," McLeod said. "They didn't hit anything, but they weren't too far away."

The convoy sped around the corners of the winding road. About halfway up, Xanana's escort met the party and escorted it to the President's house.

Xanana was gripped by emotion, tears running from his eyes as he signed. He said Timor Leste's problems were of its own making, that he did not want his country to be a failed state, and, after about an hour, farewelled the Australians and New Zealanders.

Another firefight engulfed the road at the bottom of the hill: "The only way to get down was to go through the firefight. It was important. If the intervention force was to have its legitimacy those papers needed to be signed so (the Australians) could come in first thing in the morning," McLeod said. "So we went down the hill and went through the firefight."

High above Dili's harbour, an Australian Air Force P3 Orion pumped flares into the night sky to distract the warring soldiers. The convoy sped on, into another firefight.

"You could hear the firing, you could hear the rounds going over the top, but none of the vehicles got hit. It was unbelievable really. I couldn't believe it. When we went down and I saw what was below, I was 100 per cent sure - and so was the Australian defence attache - that we were going to take some hits on the way down. It was miraculous, just driving through it.

"Ruth [Nuttall] was incredible. She was very sort of stoic, I think is a good way of saying it. It was fine for me, but her, the Australian Ambassador and some other Australian civilians were being put in extraordinary circumstances. Ruth handled it really, really well."

The convoy sped through the warring city to Alkatiri's house, near the New Zealand Embassy, and sent Australian soldiers to pick up the Speaker of the House from the Portugese Embassy, where he had fled for safety. He and Alkatiri signed, the party moved on to the Governor's Palace to meet with (now former) Defence Minister Rogue Rodriguez and, later, Chief of Defence Force, Brigadier-General Taur Matan Ruak, who agreed to the condition that he order his troops back into their barracks and keep them there.

By 1am the frantic driving was over. The signed papers were faxed to Canberra, and within hours the first troops were flying into Dili.

In many ways this was the easy part. As the chaos and violence that continues to rack Dili demonstrates, Timor Leste is being torn apart by political, social and ethnic complexities that defy simple - and often rational - explanation. Some are the product of ancient tribal and regional antagonisms; others the consequences of 200 years of occupation by Portugal and Indonesia; yet more the inevitable agonies of a new democracy trying to build itself from the ashes, with few human or natural resources.

Much of the violence of the past two weeks is also simple opportunism. Payback has long been part of the culture; older Timorese mourn its extension to new brutalities and a readiness to turn to violence that both shocks and shames them. A frequent lament is that in the bloodshed of the 1999 independence referendum, Timorese had the Indonesians to blame - now they have only themselves.

There is also division over the emergence of lethal animosity between Lorosae, the people of the east, and Loromonu, those from the west. In the present troubles it has become a shorthand for blame, denied by leading Timorese such as Ramos-Horta and Alkatiri, but given currency by Xanana in an impassioned plea for reconciliation to tearful remnants of the police force in which he said Timorese must forget terms such as Lorosae and Loromonu.

While there is no doubt east-west animosities have surfaced brutally in the latest violence, many here believe it may mask other motives for violence, ranging from political factionalism to gang rivalries to simple payback. While there has always been violence that could loosely be called ethnic, it has historically been confined to fairly small geographic areas and often tribal in nature.

How real the Lorosae-Loromonu divide is, or has become as a result of the killings, beatings, machete attacks and burning of businesses and houses, is something that will emerge when the ashes of Timor Leste's latest conflagration finally settle.

Alkatiri has become a lightning rod. Although admired for his intellect, administrative and management skills, and his ability to negotiate such complex matters as the oil exploitation agreement with Australia, he is seen by many Timorese as cold, aloof and almost alien to a culture of warmth, smiles and touch.

Outside a small number of political aides, the Weekend Herald - and other journalists here - could find no Timorese who supported the Prime Minister. They did not regard him as one of their own - Muslim in a Catholic country, born in Kupang, West Timor - and resented his exile in Mozambique after the 1975 Indonesian invasion.

He is accused of nepotism, of the creation of an isolated ruling elite, and of leading a Government able to spend only 35 per cent of its budget while the impoverished country cries out for investment in everything from roads to schools, of driving through big projects while water and electricity supplies languish and roads become ever more pot-holed, and of creating a security apparatus that has been heavily criticised by human rights advocates, including the US State Department.

More galling are the accusations that while thousands of East Timorese who lost their land under Indonesian rule are waiting for its return, that formerly owned by the extended Alkatiri family has been returned.

Alkatiri is clinging to power by his fingernails after a week as tumultuous in politics as it was bloody in the streets. Xanana says he has assumed emergency power of defence and internal security; Alkatiri denies it and says he is in full control of the Government.

The Prime Minister also warns that if he is dismissed - as the overwhelming number of Timorese, including rebel soldiers, appear to want him to be - 100,000 supporters will storm the streets. The truth is that he has nowhere near that support. He was appointed Prime Minister by his Fretilin Party, which rose to power on the glory of the 25-year struggle for independence and its genesis in the resistance movement, Falantil. He still has the backing of a powerful and potentially dangerous bloc within Fretilin, but not mass popular appeal.

But Alkatiri, like Lorosae-Loromoru, has become another shorthand. Those calling for his dismissal believe all other problems will be conquered once Alkatiri goes. But apart from the potential for more violence - not least to Alkatiri and his family - there is no guarantee that his departure would achieve political stability, and certainly no hope that Timor Leste's far deeper pains would be eased.

There is no doubt that he mishandled the issue of dissident soldiers that fanned other flames into the conflagration of the past fortnight, although as ever in Timor Leste the story is far from black and white.

In essence, the crisis began with ill-handled complaints of discrimination and poor pay and conditions among soldiers from the west. The Army is led mainly - although not exclusively - by officers from the east, and their, and Alkatiri's, failure to handle the dispute inflamed tensions. Almost 600, about 40 per cent of it strength, were dismissed and eventually became known as the Petitioners.

Their most senior officer, now living in a commandeered luxury hotel in the mountains, is Major Alfredo Reinado, a former exile from Indonesian rule who worked in a West Australian shipyards and was on his return appointed commander of the two-patrol boat Navy. He was later demoted by General Ruak to lead a military police platoon, causing deep and lasting bitterness.

In April a demonstration in support of the Petitioners gained wider traction and erupted into violence that opened old wounds across the board. The Petitioners moved back into the hills and fought fierce gun battles with the Army; the police splintered according to opposing loyalties and opened a separate war with the Army, culminating in the massacre by soldiers of nine unarmed policemen surrendering under United Nations protection. Two weeks ago, the disintegration became complete and Australian, New Zealand, Malaysian and Portuguese troops were called in.

By the end of this week the situation began to become clear. The Government remains locked in internecine warfare and has not been able to reach a workable solution. The three main players - Army, police and rebel soldiers - have been separated and remain confined to agreed areas. Outside Dili, with some tense exceptions, Timor Leste is reported to be peaceful.

Inside Dili, chaos reigns. Gangs take over streets, challenging military patrols before melting away and later reforming, beating, hacking and shooting with weapons ranging from guns and grenades to machetes, spears, bows and arrows and axes. Despite the restoration of a reasonable degree or order during the day, at nights Dili is a frightening and potentially lethal city. Smoke still hovers above it most afternoons.

At least some attacks are believed to have been co-ordinated, or at least manipulated, using mobile phone by thugs ranging from martial arts gangs with names like "7" and "Scorpions", to neighbourhood mobs banding together for protection or payback, or simple crime, looting and mayhem. Some is mindless violence spawning in a vacuum of law and order.

Co-ordinated rampages are believed to have been arranged to bring pressure to bear on political decision-makers, and to have been paid for in cash or as payment for past debts. Revenge attacks threaten to build an endless cycle of payback.

In Timor Leste, prosperity and peace remain a dream.

A history of hope and sadness

Mid-16th century: Island of Timor colonised by Portugal.

1859: Treaty between Portugal and Holland in which the Dutch take control of western half of island.

1942-1945: East Timor occupied by Japan, before Portugal resumes authority.

1975: East Timor declares itself independent from Portugal but is invaded and occupied by Indonesia nine days later.

1999: UN-supervised referendum sees overwhelming vote for independence. Militia-led violence rages until international troops, including New Zealanders, bring peace.

2002: Internationally recognised as an independent state.

2006: Violence flares again after a split in the Army. New Zealand and Australian troops fly in again.