2) Indonesia's military to guard high-risk airstrips in Papua
https://humanrightsmonitor.org/case/military-operation-in-intan-jaya-raises-serious-human-rights-concerns-escalation-of-armed-violence-causes-new-civilian-casualties-and-mass-displacement/
1) Military operation in Intan Jaya raises serious human rights concerns: Escalation of armed violence causes new civilian casualties and mass displacement
Series of violent events
Security forces reportedly set a dozen residential houses and a GKII Church on fire. A metadata analysis of the video file indicates that the footage was recorded on 27 June 2026
Mr Daud Hagisimijau, 18, and 16-year-old Kiko Hagisimijau were reportedly shot by security force personnel while assisting in the construction of St Francis Xavier Catholic Church in Titigi Village, 29 June 2026
Document ID: HRM-CAS-100-2026
Region: Indonesia > Central Papua > Intan Jaya > Sugapa
Total number of victims: 2
| # | Number of Victims | Name, Details | Gender | Age | Group Affiliation | Violations |
| 1. | 1 | Daud Hagisimijau | male | 18 | Indigenous Peoples | ill-treatment |
| 2. | 1 | Kiko Hagisimijau | male | 16 | Indigenous Peoples | ill-treatment |
Perpetrator: Republic Indonesia > Indonesian Security Forces
Issues: drones and clusterammunition, indigenous peoples, security force violence
Sources:
Jubi
Sasagu Papua
Related Cases:
2) Indonesia's military to guard high-risk airstrips in Papua
- July 9, 2026 08:18 GMT+700
"Kogabwilhan III will provide security at locations categorized as high-risk, including airstrips," Commander Lieutenant General Lucky Avianto told ANTARA by telephone from Jayapura, the capital of Papua Province, on Wednesday.
Avianto said preparations to secure vulnerable airstrips were underway and expressed hope the deployment process would be completed soon.
"The Indonesian Military will make every effort to provide a sense of security for people in Papua," Avianto said.
He said several recent shooting incidents involving civilians and pilots had occurred in areas where no security personnel were stationed.
The victims had committed no wrongdoing, he said, urging residents and all elements of society in Papua to support efforts to improve security across the region.
"Let us work together to create a safe, peaceful, and prosperous Papua within the framework of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia," Avianto said.
On July 2, 2026, American pilot Nicholas F. Goselin, 29, was fatally shot by an armed separatist group after landing in Balinggama, Sobaham Subdistrict, Yahukimo District, Highland Papua Province.
The attackers also set fire to the Pilatus aircraft, which had flown from Wamena to Balinggama carrying seven passengers.
The seven passengers were identified as Eston Sobolim, Kluenang Sobolim, Toni Balingga, Elina Sobolim, Ona Sobolim, Lisenia Balingga, and Vaince Amo Hoso.
Yahukimo Police Chief Senior Adjunct Commissioner Zet Salino said the attackers belonged to the Free Papua Movement (OPM), whose armed wing is officially classified by Indonesian authorities as an armed criminal group (KKB).
He said the attack occurred in Balinggama village, accessible only by air and located about 30 minutes by plane from Dekai, the capital of Yahukimo District.
Violence linked to the decades-long separatist insurgency in Papua has intensified in recent years, with attacks targeting civilians, infrastructure workers, and Indonesian security forces.
On Feb. 7, 2023, New Zealand pilot Phillip Mark Mehrtens was abducted in Nduga District on Feb. 7, 2023, by OPM members, led by Egianus Kogoya.
Mehrtens was held captive for more than 18 months before being released in September 2024.
Related news: Indonesian military evacuates 44 gold miners in Papua
Related news: Indonesia's military denies role in Papua child death
Related news: Task force deployed after Smart Air pilots killed in South Papua
Translator: Evarukdijati, Rahmad Nasution
Editor: Azis Kurmala
Indonesian security forces have named seven suspects in the killing of an American pilot and the burning of a Catholic mission aircraft in Papua, which has drawn condemnation from Church leaders and human rights groups alike.
The suspects are identified as armed separatists and as fugitives, I Gusti Gde Era Adhinata, head of law enforcement for the Cartenz Peace Operation 2026 Task Force, said at a press conference on July 8
“They were named after investigators reviewed witness statements, physical evidence, and a crime-scene examination in Yahukimo Regency, Papua Highlands province,” he added.
Adhinata said they face charges of jointly carrying out the killing of pilot Nicholas F. Gosselin and endangering flight safety, offenses carrying a maximum sentence of 20 years in prison.
“Investigators believe the armed group involved has around 15 members equipped with firearms and homemade weapons and are still tracing its network and the source of its weapons,” he said.
The plane, owned by Associated Mission Aviation (AMA), an aviation company owned by Catholic dioceses in Papua, was shot at on July 2 while carrying seven civilian passengers, all of whom survived unharmed.
The attackers then set the aircraft on fire, killing Gosselin.
Sebby Sambom, a spokesperson for the West Papua National Liberation Army (TPNPB), an armed separatist group, said the flight had violated a ban the group had imposed on air travel within its self-declared operational area.
The group alleged the Indonesian military frequently uses civilian aircraft to move troops and supplies into conflict zones, and said it now regards any civilian plane entering those areas as a legitimate target.
He called Gosselin's killing a "message" to the US and Indonesian governments.
Bishop Yanuarius Theofilus Matopai You of Jayapura firmly rejected Sambom's claim, saying AMA has operated for decades solely to support connectivity in the region, chiefly transporting pastoral workers to remote areas.
"This aircraft is purely a social service from the Church. The funds came from the offerings of the faithful, collected so that we could purchase planes like this one," the bishop told UCA News, denying the plane had ever been used for security operations or to carry military personnel and ammunition.
AMA director Bob Kayadu said the attack's greatest cost was the loss of a vital transport lifeline for mission work, health care, and education.
The airline has suspended all flights across Papua, with a decision on resuming operations expected only after an internal meeting on July 11.
"In 67 years and 4 months of serving Papua, this burning of an aircraft and shooting of a pilot is the most tragic incident we have faced, and it has left us deeply wounded. We need time to heal," Kayadu said.
Amnesty International Indonesia executive director Usman Hamid described the case as extreme deterioration of civilian protection in Papua.
"There can be no justification for this reprehensible attack," Hamid said.
Hamid called for a prompt, thorough investigation into the case, with all perpetrators held accountable, and urged all parties to the Papua conflict to make clear that unlawful attacks on civilians are unacceptable.
He said survivors and victims' families had a right to know what happened, who was responsible, and what steps the government would take to deliver justice, stressing that only independent, impartial investigations could lead to credible trials.
He called on all parties, including the Indonesian military and armed groups, to uphold international law, insisting the right to life is non-negotiable.
Gosselin's killing is the latest in a series of attacks on foreign pilots in Papua's remote highlands, where small aircraft remain a lifeline for communities cut off from road access.
On Aug. 5, 2024, New Zealand pilot Glen Malcolm Conning was killed by an armed group shortly after landing in Mimika Regency, Central Papua.
Earlier, on Feb. 7, 2023, fellow New Zealander Phillip Mehrtens was taken hostage by TPNPB after landing in the remote Nduga region of Highland Papua.
He was held for more than 19 months before his release on Sept. 21, 2024.
Indonesian security forces massacred scores of people in Biak, West Papua, on July 6, 1988. Victims included women and children who had gathered for a peaceful rally at the base of a water tower flying the Morning Star flag — West Papuans’ symbol of independence.
According to a statement released by the Australia-West Papua Association (AWPA) on July 5, activists and local people had started gathering beneath the tower four days earlier, singing songs and holding traditional dances. As the rally continued, many more people in the area joined in with numbers reaching up to 500.
Although the Australian government knew about the massacre, it failed to condemn the Indonesian military for the atrocities, said AWPA.
Shortly after the massacre, Dan Weadon, an Australian military attaché and intelligence officer from Australia’s Jakarta embassy, visited Biak.
West Papuans handed the officer photographic evidence of the massacre. The photos were distributed to his superiors within defence, but they never saw the light of day.
Evidence gained under a freedom of information request, by West Papuan supporter Anthony Craig, suggests the photos have since been destroyed by the defence department, despite consistent calls for a proper investigation into the atrocity, said AWPA.
One survivor of the massacre told academic and author Eben Kirksey in 2003: “During the initial attack, the troops assembled around us in a U formation. There were Brimob police in riot gear, army troops (Kopasgad), a company of soldiers from the local Kodim barracks, as well as navy personnel. They formed a letter U around us and then shot at us repeatedly while we were still under the water tower. They kept shooting, telling us to head down to the dock. We were herded down to the dock. So at around 6:30am, I was led by two Indonesian military officers directly to a naval ship. The ship has a number on its side, 534.”
In its statement, AWPA spokesperson Joe Collins said that in the twenty-eight years since the Biak massacre, “not only has no military personnel ever been brought to justice, but the killing of Papuans in the territory continues and the conflict is escalating”.
The Indonesian occupying forces continue to intimidate, arrest and kill West Papuans.
There are ongoing clashes between the West Papuan National Liberation Army (TPNPB) and the Indonesian military, with casualties on both sides. As a result of these clashes, said AWPA, the Indonesian security forces carry out operations in the area causing local people to flee their villages in fear for their lives.
These internal refugees are bearing the brunt of the conflict. According to data released by Human Rights Monitor, there are more than 122,000 internally displaced persons in West Papua as at June this year.
Collins said that as the situation in West Papua deteriorates, “we can expect more Papuans to flee from their villages for safety”.
US pilot killed
In a recent incident, United States pilot Nicholas F Gosselin was killed and the Associated Mission Aviation (AMA) plane he was flying was destroyed on July 2. The incident occurred at the Kampung Balinggama airfield, in the Sobaham District, Yahukimo Regency, in the Papua Mountains Province, said AWPA.
TPNPB spokesperson Sebby Sambom said TPNPB members from the Yahukimo Regional Command were responsible; pointing out that the TPNPB had previously prohibited all civilian aircraft from entering the region.
Sambon said the group believes that civilian aircraft are regularly being used to transport Indonesian troops and military logistics into Papua’s interior to support military operations. However, the AMA and the Indonesian military have denied this.
Collins said: “What is of real concern now is that the military might conduct another security force operation to hunt for the TPNPB members in the area, which will only result in more internal refugees and more villagers arrested and intimidated.”
Indonesia’s Coordinating Minister for Political and Security Affairs Djamari Chaniago condemned the TPNPB attack and said his ministry would encourage the Indonesian Defense Forces (TNI) and the National Police (Polri) to pursue the perpetrators and take firm action.
ANTARA News reported that lieutenant general Lucky Avianto, commander of the Indonesian Joint Regional Defense Command (Kogabwilhan) III, said that the TNI will deploy additional security personnel to several vulnerable locations in Papua following the fatal shooting.
Statements such as this are not helpful and only create anxiety in the Papuan population, Collins said.
“If Canberra was reluctant to raise the massacre with Jakarta 28 years ago, nothing has really changed and Canberra is still reluctant to raise the human rights situation in West Papua with Jakarta.”
[For more information on the Biak massacre, visit The Biak Massacre Citizens Tribunal.]
https://www.greenleft.org.au/2026/1457/culture/essential-weapon-against-institutional-amnesia
5) Buried in Practice: Freeport in West Papua, Indonesia — and the State Department human rights report that disappeared
By John Wilson
Self published April 2026
960pp
In Buried in Practice, John Wilson has done something that the machinery of the state and the titans of industry have spent 30 years trying to prevent: he has preserved a record of truth for the Indigenous peoples of West Papua.
As someone who has spent decades fighting for the rights of those whose voices are drowned out by the roar of chainsaws and the grinding of mine gears, I find this book to be an essential weapon against institutional amnesia.
Wilson’s account of the “militarisation of mining” at the Grasberg mine is a chilling reminder of the human cost of our hunger for resources. The descriptions of Papuan villagers being tortured in shipping containers and displaced from their sacred mountains are not just historical footnotes; they represent a continuing trauma for the Amungme and Kamoro peoples.
Wilson correctly identifies this as “development aggression” — a violent imposition of Western economic will that treats traditional forest lifestyles as an obstacle to be cleared.
What makes this work uniquely powerful is Wilson’s exposure of the “home front” of this war.
Most activists understand that indigenous communities face bullets and displacement, but Wilson shows us the sophisticated, silent repression used to protect these profits in Washington and New York.
The FBI’s targeting of a mining analyst, for simply asking a question about human rights, is a terrifying glimpse into how corporate power has hollowed out democratic oversight. The state’s use of psychological operations and “virtual gulags” against its own citizens to shield a company like Freeport-McMoRan should alarm anyone who believes in the rule of law.
The disappearance of the US state department’s human rights report is the “smoking gun” of this narrative. It is a textbook example of how the “revolving door” between government and big business creates a culture of impunity. When men like Henry Kissinger can transition from shaping foreign policy to advising the very companies that profit from the annexation of indigenous lands, accountability becomes a performance rather than a reality.
Wilson’s massive archive — the hundreds of pages of cables and Freedom of Information denials — is more than just a legal record; it is a testament to the persistence required to challenge a system built on secrecy.
This book does not just ask us to trust the author; it invites us to “test the evidence” for ourselves.
For the rainforests of West Papua and the people who have lived there for millennia, the path to justice is buried under 30 years of bureaucratic evasion. Wilson has begun the hard work of digging it out.
This is a vital, courageous and deeply unsettling book that every advocate for human rights must read.
[John Seed OAM is the founder of the Rainforest Information Centre.]
For the Indigenous communities of Indonesian Papua, Awon Atatbon is no routine ceremonial gathering. The ritual, which involves dancing, singing, and other communal performances, is only held every decade or so, and symbolizes these communities’ resilience in protecting their ancestral lands. The central focus of Awon Atatbon is the pesta babi (pig feast), the traditional cooking of specially-hunted pigs, which are then shared among members of the community and any visitors who may be in attendance. These feasts, and the sufferings and injustices that prompted such ceremonies among Indigenous Papuans, form the symbolic core of Dandhy Laksono and Cypri Dale’s acclaimed (and controversial) documentary, “Pig Feast: Colonialism in our time,” which was released in late May.
The 95-minute film illustrates how the Indonesian state, through its National Strategic Project (PSN), has furthered its historical oppression of Indigenous Papuans through massive state-led development projects that prioritized food and energy security for the majority at the expense of local Papuan communities and ecosystems. Through interviews with Indigenous leaders and villagers, as well as everyday footage of massive destruction and loss, Laksono and Dale highlight how the PSN has created what they have described as the world’s largest ongoing deforestation project, protected by Jakarta’s authoritarian military arm. The film also sheds light on the historical impunity enjoyed by the Indonesian state in its quest to pursue profit over the well-being of ethnic minorities in West Papua.
The film situates the PSN in a long history of exploitation by the Indonesian state. West Papua, which consists of the western half of New Guinea and its surrounding islands, came under Indonesian control in 1963, but it took another six uneasy years and a controversial U.N.-administered referendum for the region to be formally incorporated into Indonesia.
Since then, Indigenous Papuans have been routinely subjected to large-scale human rights violations by the Indonesian military and police forces.
The 1969 referendum, for example, was only achieved after many arrests, killings, bombings of Papuan villages, forced disappearances, and intimidation. A similar pattern has persisted since then, with the intensity of Indonesian military operations peaking in 1998, which saw massacres of Indigenous villagers, systematic starvation operations, and widespread rape and public torture across the region. Today, while direct military action has slowed down, police and paramilitary forces continue to abuseIndigenous communities, especially targeting people with activist backgrounds.
Simultaneously, a strategy of “Indonesianization” has taken place in the region, motivated by a racist worldview that Malay Indonesians are better able to make use of Papua’s rich resources than the Melanesian Indigenous Papuans. This strategy has included both the assimilation of Indigenous Papuans into the Indonesian state through the education system and the media and the transmigration to Papua of settlers from other parts of Indonesia.
Indigenous Papuans have not been passive. Hopes for an independent Papuan nationcontinue to resonate among both ordinary Papuans and the many insurgent groups that have waged a war for Papuan independence since the Indonesian annexation. Unarmed civilians, including local villagers and the employees of Indonesia’s many corporations operating in the region, continue to be casualties of war. It is against this backdrop, in this climate of systemic oppression of Indigenous Papuans and historical tensions, that the events of “Pig Feast” take place.
Throughout “Pig Feast,” the filmmakers engage with the idea that state-led development in West Papua constitutes a form of modern-day colonialism, as evidenced by ongoing modes of accumulation by dispossession. One of the most visible forms of such dispossession is the aforementioned process of widespread deforestation. West Papua is home to one of the largest tropical rainforests in the world. However, this territory is increasingly under threat from the PSN.
The government describes this as part of Indonesia’s drive for self-sufficiency and food security. In reality, the PSN has proceeded without the consent of local Indigenous groups. It aims to convert 2.5 million hectares of Papuan forest into 1.3 million hectares of rice fields, with smaller but still significant areas dedicated to sugarcane production and palm oil plantations. A primary goal is to reach specific fuel blending targets for plant-based fuels: E-10 (bioethanol) and B-50 (biodiesel).
The documentary also says that this deforestation project extends beyond environmental destruction, as it also disrupts what has been described in the documentary as the Indigenous Papuans’ “supermarket,” “food barn,” and “bank,” as well as their homes. This, combined with the effects of the ongoing armed conflict, has led to massive displacement, with over 105,878 people in West Papua reported as IDPs by early 2026. The clearing of forests eliminates the sago groves that, in addition to providing an important staple, are foundational to Papuans’ cultural life. Furthermore, the expansion of new forms of foreign agriculture often involves the use of harmful pesticides, which contaminate surrounding ecosystems, including water sources.
The PSN’s implementation relies heavily on military and corporate involvement. It is akin to a “military operation other than war,” reinforced by roughly 56,000 troops, who have officially been deployed to deal with insurgents. At times, customary land is seized by military personnel to establish bases and ports within project zones. Additionally, troops have placed ownership signboards on Indigenous lands, often using intimidation tactics used to pressure landowners into signing away rights for as little as $18 per hectare. While these military forces have pursued their own strategic interests and official state objectives, they have also supported powerful private companies with close ties to the Indonesian government, which continue to benefit from the PSN, particularly two conglomerates: the Jhonlin Group and the Merauke Sugar Group.
The crisis in West Papua has been labelled a “slow-motion genocide.” Despite this, throughout the documentary, Indigenous Papuans demonstrate various strategies of resilience and resistance. The film opens and closes with the ceremonial planting of red crosses on sacred land. The presence of more than 1,800 such red crosses and other customary markers painted on trees functions as a symbol of resistance, marking territorial boundaries and warning outsiders against entering or disturbing ancestral lands without permission.
Awon Atatbon represents the most proactive form of resistance against the erasure of West Papua’s Indigenous cultures. The ceremony functions as a cultural ritual-turned-mechanism for territorial, social, and economic consolidation among different Indigenous communities. The feast demonstrates that this land is far from “empty,” and affirms the deep historical relationship Indigenous peoples maintain with their territory and their commitment to preserving these connections for future generations. Just as Dale stated, “the struggle against colonialism and oppression cannot rely on a single approach. Social, cultural, political, and religious elements must unite in confronting humanitarian issues.”
Halfway through the film, the voices of Papuan women are brought to the forefront, although only briefly. “Pig Feast” highlights their determination to defend their land for the sake of their children. However, the film did leave out deeper explorations into Papuan women’s experiences and contributions as it leaves unanswered questions about the roles women played in earlier confrontations and the ways they continue to build resilience and contribute to contemporary forms of resistance today.
West Papua has often been referred to as “the most underreported region in the world.” Thus, one of the largest impacts of “Pig Feast” is that there was a rare large-scale effort in the mass media to hold the Indonesian government accountable for its atrocities, using channels that transcend national boundaries. As of June 20, the documentary has been viewed by over 14 million people on the official YouTube account of Jubi, West Papua’s most prominent independent media outlet, in addition to more than 11,000 requests for public screenings throughout Indonesia, of which 1,800 took place.
Inevitably, the Indonesian government has resorted to its tried-and-true methods of censorship to curb this newfound threat to its “historical impunity.” While the government claims that the documentary has not been banned, reports have stated that Indonesian authorities have broken up screenings and discussions across the country, including those organized by educational institutions, using both police and military forces, who routinely justifytheir actions by claiming that the documentary is “provocative,” or promotes “anti-government narratives.” The phrase “colonialism in our times” particularly prompted a negative reaction inside the government, even from relatively moderate officials. Organizers of these screenings have also been put under surveillance and intimidation.
On the more covert side are suspicions that the government has co-opted the Indigenous Papuans themselves. Most notable is the case of Mama Yasinta, the leader of the Marind community in West Papua and a key figure in “Pig Feast.” Despite her oppositional stance to the PSN in the documentary, Yasinta suddenly appeared on national television in early June, pressing charges against Laksono for allegedly using her likeness without her consent, and calling for an end to documentary screenings. This followed her initial mysterious disappearance from West Papua, and rumors that she was transported by corporate jet to Jakarta with the help of the military, which further inflamed suspicions that Yasinta had been pressured or co-opted by the government.
Deepfake AI-generated videos of Papuan independence activists praising the PSN or criticizing “Pig Feast” have also recently been posted across social media platforms. While dis- and misinformation are both “old wine in a new bottle” for the Indonesian government’s censorship regime, especially under President Prabowo Subianto, the rise of AI-generated propaganda is further evidence of Jakarta’s efforts to undermine any media activism that tries to bring it to accountability in West Papua.
Optimistically, these efforts have not fully stopped the documentary’s momentum, nor discussions of its contents throughout the country – and further afield.
Merauke, Jubi – The South Papua provincial government has launched a crochet training program for Indigenous Papuan women as part of efforts to strengthen skills, promote economic independence, and preserve local cultural traditions.
The training, organized by the South Papua Office of Social Affairs, Women’s Empowerment and Child Protection, began in Merauke Regency on Wednesday (July 8, 2026).
Agustinus Joko Guritno, Assistant for Government and People’s Welfare at the South Papua Provincial Secretariat, said the program forms part of the provincial government’s broader women’s empowerment initiatives.
He said developing practical skills is an important step toward strengthening women’s role in both social and economic life.
“Women and men are entitled to equal rights and opportunities. That is why the government continues to promote women’s participation through various programs and initiatives,” Guritno said while opening the training.
He said the provincial government remains committed to expanding women’s empowerment programs through the development of the creative economy.
According to Guritno, crochet has strong potential as an income-generating skill while also helping preserve local cultural heritage.
He added that crochet offers benefits beyond producing handicrafts, saying the activity can support mental well-being by reducing anxiety, improving concentration, encouraging patience, and helping build self-confidence.
Guritno said fiber-based handicrafts have long been part of the cultural traditions of communities across South Papua. In the province’s four regencies—Merauke, Boven Digoel, Mappi, and Asmat—people have for generations produced traditional items made from natural fibers, including noken (traditional bags) and other customary handicrafts.
“Traditional weaving and fiber craft, including the making of ceremonial clothing, loincloths, koteka, and noken, have been passed down from generation to generation,” he said.
He expressed hope that the training would not only improve participants’ technical skills but also contribute to preserving cultural traditions inherited from previous generations.
Guritno said crochet skills could be developed into sustainable small businesses capable of increasing household incomes.
He also encouraged the South Papua Office of Social Affairs, Women’s Empowerment and Child Protection to work closely with other government agencies and relevant institutions to ensure participants receive continued business mentoring, promotional support, and access to markets after completing the training.
“Through stronger partnerships, these handmade products can reach wider markets and provide economic benefits for local artisans,” he said.
He also called for locally made crochet products to be marketed under registered brands and protected through intellectual property rights to improve their quality and competitiveness.
The two-day training program, held from July 8 to 9, brings together Indigenous Papuan women from across South Papua.
The provincial government hopes participants will be able to build sustainable creative businesses from the skills they acquire, contributing to women’s economic empowerment throughout the region. (*)
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