Current Issues in Language Planning Language Planning and the

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Language Planning and the Sociolinguistic Environment in East Timor: Colonial Practice and Changing Language Ecologies John Hajek Published online: 26 Mar 2010. To cite this article: John Hajek (2000) Language Planning and the Sociolinguistic Environment in East Timor: Colonial Practice and Changing Language Ecologies, Current Issues in Language Planning, 1:3, 400-414, DOI: 10.1080/14664200008668014 To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14664200008668014

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Language Planning and the Sociolinguistic Environment in East Timor: Colonial Practice and Changing Language Ecologies


John Hajek School of Languages, University of Melbourne, Parkville 3052 Australia East Timor has in recent times generated significant public interest around the world, especially after the events of August–September 1999. It has an unusual colonial history: centuries of Portuguese contact and control (1500s–1975) were followed by a brief but very intense period of Indonesian occupation (1975–1999). From the language-planning perspective, it makes for a relatively unusual case study since it allows us to consider the impact of two very different colonising powers on the same linguistic territory. Portuguese attempts to modify the linguistic environment in East Timor were in most cases relatively slow to gather pace, only showing real potential to seriously impact on the local environment from the 1970s on. But political upheaval in Portugal and then in East Timor brought all of this to a sudden halt – especiallyafter the arrival of the Indonesians who quickly moved to impose an Indonesian linguistic, social, military and economic model – in East Timor. But the situation in East Timor has once again unexpectedly undergone radical change with the end of Indonesian occupation and the arrival of international administration in September 1999. Since that time language planning issues have proved to be amongst the most contentious issues in East Timor.

Introduction East Timor is currently under United Nations administration, with the prospect of achieving full independence for the first time in the next few years – after almost 500 years of uninterrupted colonial contact and rule. For a long time part of the Portuguese empire, it was for a short but very intense period (1975–1999) under Indonesian control. As the world’s most recently decolonised nation, East Timor provides us with a very topical and up-to-date case study of the impact of language planning and linguistic imperialism on a local sociolinguistic ecological environment. The history of language planning in East Timor can be divided into three major phases, each associated with the particular political context of the time. Each of these periods is discussed in the sections that follow. For much of East Timor’s recent history, government authorities with responsibility for language planning have not viewed language policy in isolation. Instead, language policy objectives have long been seen as playing an important role in a much broader strategy of social and political transformation of the human landscape of East Timor. There is no doubt that these different language policies have had an impact on East Timor’s language ecology. East Timor is only the most recent example, following Mühlhäusler (1996), of colonial indifference to local needs or 1466-4208/00/03 0400-15 $16.00/0 CURRENT ISSUES IN LANGUAGE PLANNING

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wishes as colonisers worked instead towards establishing entirely new sociolinguistic ecologies in their own image. East Timor, located in the southern portion of the Indonesian archipelago, includes the eastern half of the island of Timor, as well as the nearby islands of Atauro and Jaco, and the small enclave in West Timor known as Oe-Cusse. Its current population cannot be established with certainty – at least 120,000– 140,000 East Timorese are still in refugee camps in West Timor, while the once very large and previously increasing non-Timorese Indonesian population has now been reduced to a fraction of its former self.

Brief Overview of the Indigenous Language Situation With respect to the indigenous languages of East Timor, their precise number and classification remain in dispute, with the most reliable estimates in the range of 15–20 (Hajek, in press). According to Ethnologue (Grimes, 1996) 17 languages are indigenous to East Timor. They fall into two language groupings: (1) non-Austronesian languages related to the Papuan languages of New Guinea; and (2) members of the Austronesian language family. The best known East Timorese language is Tetum (alternatively Tetun), an Austronesian language spoken as a first language in three different areas of East Timor, including Dili, the capital city. Although Tetum is commonly considered to be one language, there are in fact at least two major varieties: (1) Tetum-Dili or Tetum-Prasa which shows very strong Portuguese influence; and (2) the much more conservative Tetum-Terik (sometimes called Tetum-Belu, which is in fact a sub-variety) which also has many native speakers resident in Indonesian West Timor. Intercommunication between these varieties can be very difficult and in some speech domains impossible. Difficulties are particularly evident in higher or specialised registers, such as in religious and technical discussion – since in both contexts Tetum-Dili is particularly marked by borrowing from Portuguese. Nevertheless, it remains true that some form of Tetum has long been widely used as a lingua franca across large areas of East Timor.

Language and Language Planning in the Portuguese Era (1500s–1975): Off to a Slow Start Whilst Portuguese contact with East Timor goes back to the 1500s, full Portuguese control, beyond the outskirts of Dili, was not achieved until 1912 with the crushing of the Boaventura uprising. The lack of Portuguese control, coupled with Portugal’s lack of interest in East Timor until the twentieth century, meant that for most of this long period the Portuguese had relatively little impact on the indigenous linguistic ecology of East Timor. Indeed the local linguistic ecology showed itself to be highly adaptive in the face of a newly introduced colonising language. A long tradition of stable indigenous multilingualism amongst the local population helped to maintain local language vitality – a feature Mühlhäusler (1996) rightly notes as not uncommon to pre-colonial societies around the world. For instance it was frequent, at least until 1975, for villagers (especially males) to speak the language(s) of neighbouring villages. The introduction of Portuguese in these circumstances was dealt with as an expansion of the multilingual repertoire, rather than as a disruption to it. As a result, there is


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no evidence of any indigenous language being put in direct peril through the actions of the Portuguese, nor of locals shifting to exclusive use of Portuguese anywhere in the colony right up to the departure of the Portuguese in 1975. There is little evidence of conscious language planning on the part of the Portuguese until the 1950s, with perhaps two exceptions. In the first instance, the Portuguese brought Tetum with them to Dili, where it eventually displaced the local variety of Mambae by the late nineteenth century. This appears to be the only instance of irreversible change in the indigenous language ecology at the hands of the Portuguese. It should be pointed out, however, that the geographical area affected by this change was in fact tiny – Mambae continues to be spoken as the first language only a handful of kilometres from the centre of Dili. In the second instance, travellers’ reports show that Malay was widely used as a trade language in East Timor, as in the surrounding Dutch-controlled region, until the 1840s. But by the 1870s it was no longer spoken in Dili nor most of the rest of the colony – apparently as a result of Portuguese efforts (Fox, 1997). The mechanism used to achieve this goal – and in such a short time – remains a mystery, although the willingness of the Portuguese to use Tetum as an indigenous lingua franca is undoubtedly significant. Tetum benefited in Dili from its existing use as a lingua franca in other parts of East Timor and from the historical prestige of the Tetum-speaking kingdoms on the island. Normally used only as an oral medium, by the late 1960s it was used – in a limited fashion – as a written language by a handful of educated Timorese. But anxiety at what was perceived to be a sign of potentially uncontrollable indigenous nationalism and possible competition to the Portuguese ideal quickly led the oppressive security apparatus to impose a clampdown on such cultural expression by the early 1970s. The numbers of Portuguese resident in East Timor were always tiny. Even as late as 1970, of a population of some 600,000, only 0.2% of the resident population was Portuguese – and of this number, most, soldiers and administrators, were only on temporary assignment to East Timor. Instead the Portuguese relied on small but increasing numbers of educated mestizo and Timorese to deal with local administrative and military affairs. Outside of Dili, Portuguese seems to have been spoken by relatively few people until well after World War II. Catholic missionaries in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were required to use indigenous languages – local languages in some places (e.g. Galoli, Fataluku) but Tetum in particular – in order to spread the Catholic faith. Only in the Fataluku-speaking area (and partly also in the isolated Oe-Cusse enclave) where Tetum was unknown was Portuguese used as a lingua franca by the local population to communicate with other Timorese. Two varieties of Portuguese Creole were also once spoken in Dili: imported Macao Creole and the local Bidau Creole (named after a suburb of Dili), but speakers of these languages appear to have shifted to standard Portuguese by the 1950s. Only in the 1950s and 1960s did Portugal begin finally to turn its attention to the social development of East Timor through the closely intertwined mechanisms of education and the religious activities of the Catholic Church. Their principal objective – in the eyes of Portuguese authorities – was to ‘civilise’ the local population, so that, under Portuguese law, they would become true Portuguese


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citizens with full civil rights. To achieve this goal, an individual East Timorese had to accept fully the Portuguese way of life including profession of the Catholic faith, and proper command of Portuguese. Conscious long-term language planning now came to the fore. The provision of mass education as a way of achieving linguistic acculturation in favour of Portuguese in all contexts was to become an explicit objective of the Portuguese administration: The 2nd fundamental goal of our struggle in education is: that everyone has to speak Portuguese! If there are prayers? Pray in Portuguese. If there is discussion, discuss in Portuguese. If there is a real need to curse, then curse in Portuguese! If we need to understand each other, then let’s understand each other in Portuguese! (Translation of Grade 1973: 219) This new policy represented a radical change from the previous pattern of relatively peaceful co-existence between Portuguese and indigenous languages. This newly found will to transform all East Timorese into educated speakers of Portuguese as quickly as possible left – at least for the political and military authorities involved – no space for the existing multilingual ecology. Instead, an entirely new fundamentally monolingual Portuguese ecology was envisioned to take its place. The political motivation for Portugal’s shift in policy was quite clear: it was hoped that linguistic and social acculturation would neutralise rising anti-colonial sentiment in its far-flung colonies. Such sentiment was especially evident in Africa, and was showing incipient signs of developing in East Timor. Civil authorities worked closely with military personnel and the Church to combat illiteracy and to establish schools, so that from 1953 to 1974 the numbers of children entering primary school increased eleven-fold, with a reported 77% participation rate. The learning of Portuguese was rigorously enforced in the classroom: Pinto and Jardine (1997: 35) report the use of the palmatoria (a type of rounded bat) used to beat children caught speaking Tetum. The local East Timorese also had increasing contact with Portuguese through the activities of the Church. Although Tetum (and other local languages) was widely used in missionary work, the Church and its structures operated in Portuguese. By 1975, one quarter of the population had become Catholic. As a result of all of these activities, many East Timorese, through schooling (however limited) and religious contact, now had some knowledge, rudimentary or otherwise, of Portuguese. Also present in East Timor during much of the Portuguese era was the commercially dominant Chinese community (some 1% of the total population before 1975). The Chinese enjoyed special privileges granted exclusively to them by the Portuguese. These included the right to Taiwanese citizenship and a separate Mandarin Chinese-medium school system, on the legal proviso that all students also learn Portuguese. As a result, local Chinese were literate in Mandarin and Portuguese, and usually also spoke, in addition to their native Chinese dialect(s), Tetum and/or in some cases other local languages according to the locality. The direct impact of the Chinese on the local ecology appears to have been very limited, as they were encouraged to live separately, especially in Dili. As a result, they tended to have relatively little contact, beyond that required for commerce, with local East Timorese.


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Overall, we can state that while Portuguese colonialism was relatively slow to have a major effect on the local language ecology, efforts to modify it – to the advantage of the colonising power – were by the twentieth century gaining pace. In the first instance, a new language variety, Portuguese, was introduced into the local environment and placed squarely at the top of the sociolinguistic hierarchy, with social advancement in East Timor clearly governed by knowledge of Portuguese. Formal domains such as administration, education and to a large degree religious activity were available only in the Portuguese language. In the longer term, its niche at the top was expected to expand and trickle down the language hierarchy into as many domains as possible – without any thought as to the long-term consequences for the many local languages. The Portuguese had already also shown themselves to be sensitive to linguistic competition: Malay had been eliminated. With respect to the local languages, the Portuguese also helped to expand the scope and domains of Tetum use, by introducing it to Dili and not discouraging its use as a local lingua franca. But Tetum served as an adjunct rather than as an equal to Portuguese, for it was never considered remotely plausible for the former to compete with or to replace the latter. Other than its implantation into Dili, much of its spread during the Portuguese era was by default rather than by design; it was to remain exclusively oral, and there was no suggestion that all East Timorese should become fluent in Tetum. The evident momentum of initiatives in favour of Portuguese in the 1960s and 1970s was brought to a dramatic halt by the events of 1974–1975. The collapse of the right-wing regime in Portugal in a military coup in 1974 led to a rapid political awakening in East Timor and a split between conservative pro-autonomy and more nationalist and left-wing pro-independence forces (with almost no support in favour of integration with Indonesia). In a remarkably short period, a push for rapid decolonisation from the new left-wing government in Lisbon led to political confusion in East Timor and ultimately to a short civil war, from which the nationalist left-wing FRETILIN (Frente Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente) emerged as victors in 1975. One of its stated objectives was the promotion of Tetum and the eradication of local illiteracy. As a consequence, local volunteer programmes targeting children and adults in the field using simple Tetum readers began to appear. Other indigenous languages were not included in this process.1 In any case, within the space of a few months, everything came to a halt, as Indonesian forces infiltrated and invaded East Timor.

Language Planning in East Timor 1975–1999: Indonesianisation as Paramount The Indonesian invasion of 1975 was soon followed by East Timor’s full integration into the Republic of Indonesia as the nation’s 27th province in September 1976.The province was, however, never pacified, and was subjected to extremely harsh treatment at the hands of Indonesia’s security services. As a result, the local linguistic ecology was kept in a state of permanent severe stress during this whole period. The consequences of 24 years of Indonesian occupation for the local social and linguistic ecology were in most respects very negative – as has been widely reported, e.g. Aditjondro, 2000; Aubrey, 1998; Budiardjo and Leong, 1984; Carey and Carter, 1995; Defert, 1992; Gunn, 1997; Pinto and Jardine, 1997.



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Amongst other things (see the discussion that follows), the period was characterised by massive loss of life amongst the East Timorese – estimated to be about one-third of the population based on 1975 figures.2 This dramatic decline in local speaker numbers was in itself clearly a major change to the local linguistic ecology. Rapid Indonesianisation – cultural, political and linguistic – was at all times a paramount government objective. It was to be achieved as quickly as possible through a range of measures such as control of mass media, ideologisation through education, military and economic implantation, forced population control, massive in-migration, and elimination of Portuguese (openly stigmatised as a ‘colonial language’).3 There was no interest in maintaining the local linguistic ecology as the Indonesian authorities found it in 1975. Instead, some languages (Portuguese and Chinese) were to be removed from their niches in the ecology, the rest were to be ignored, and a new language (Indonesian) was to be introduced as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. The use and knowledge of Indonesian has always been recognised by Indonesian authorities and experts (e.g. Dardjowidjojo, 1998) as fundamental to the unity and development of the Republic of Indonesia. As Errington (1998: 272) rightly observes, ‘[Indonesian] is quite transparently related to the institutional infrastructure of the Indonesian state’. There is no doubt that language planning in favour of the spread and use of Indonesian was expected to play an important part in the required transformation of East Timor – as it had in other parts of Indonesia (cf. Fanany & Effendi, 1999). All of the measures listed in the previous paragraph, including economic control and in-migration, were critical to this language planning process. Indonesian authorities closely monitored the spread of Indonesian throughout East Timor as a measure of East Timor’s relative integration into Indonesia. Overall, available figures suggest that the proportion of the resident population able to speak Indonesian had almost doubled in 10 years: from approximately 30% in 1980 to 60% in 1990. It appears at first glance that the linguistic Indonesianisation of the East Timorese population was increasingly very successful. However, figures for 1990 are inflated by an exponential increase in the numbers of non-East Timorese present in East Timor. These include large numbers of Indonesian-speaking military personnel, bureaucrats and their families settling in East Timor as well as ever-increasing waves of Indonesian speakers coming in primarily from provinces to the west and north of East Timor. By 1997, of a population estimated to be 867,000, at least 250,000 were non-East Timorese newcomers (Carey, 1999).4 This in-migration had a dramatic effect on local demography and was a major tool in modifying the local language ecology in favour of Indonesian and to the detriment of indigenous languages. Although the province was by no means pacified at the time, on 16 January 1980, the Indonesian government made it a designated transmigration area.5 A large network of so-called transmigration sites were quickly established and maintained around the new province, thereby helping to spread Indonesian.6 The two main non-indigenous languages of East Timor – Portuguese and Chinese – were specifically targeted by Indonesian authorities for elimination. The retention of Portuguese in the most prestigious niches of the local ecology was predictably untenable: in the rest of Indonesia these niches are occupied


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exclusively by Indonesian. As a result, Portuguese was quickly replaced in schools, administration and the media. In 1980–1981 Indonesian authorities banned the use of Portuguese by the Church as its liturgical language, in the hope that it would be forced to adopt Indonesian. In an unexpected twist and in the face of immense pressure from Indonesian authorities, the local Catholic Church, with Vatican approval, instead replaced Portuguese with Tetum (see the account that follows). Indonesian efforts to eliminate Portuguese appeared to have their desired effect: it was no longer openly spoken for fear of retribution, nor taught in the schools, so that transmission of Portuguese to new generations of East Timorese became almost impossible – especially when everyone was required to learn Indonesian. Indonesian authorities also encouraged the study of English in local tertiary institutes, in the hope that this would further weaken the position of Portuguese amongst the educated elite. There is no doubt that the position of Portuguese had been seriously weakened amongst the general populace as a spoken language, leading to its increasingly symbolic status as the most anti-Indonesian of languages. Somewhat paradoxically, Portuguese, the original colonising language, came instead to be the language of East Timorese resistance, used in particular by FRETILIN and by FALINTIL (Forças Armadas de Libertação de Timor-Leste Independente). Pictures and film footage from East Timor through the 1990s show quite clearly the use of perfect Portuguese in banners held up in mass demonstrations organised by students in Dili. During this same period of intense pressure in favour of Indonesianisation, the Chinese community also saw its position drastically undermined – their language and school rights were terminated, their economic control dismantled and their numbers reduced to a fraction of former levels. With respect to local languages, the predominant position of Tetum in East Timor was confirmed – with the grudging acquiescence of Indonesian authorities. The banning of Portuguese from all public domains was expected to lead quickly to the exclusive use of Indonesian in the activities of the Catholic Church – with the desired effect of turning it into an effective tool for Indonesian language promotion – precisely as the Catholic Church continues to do very well throughout the Indonesian archipelago. But the local Church in East Timor succeeded instead in elevating Tetum to a full liturgical language from 1981 and attempted, with its meagre resources, to promote Tetum in other domains. Whilst instruction for all classes was exclusively in Indonesian in government schools, some limited use of Tetum in the Catholic primary school sector in the Dili diocese was permitted – albeit only in Tetum language classes and without government assistance. This use of Tetum was so restricted that it represented only symbolic competition to Indonesian since the medium of instruction was otherwise exclusively Indonesian. From the Indonesian perspective, limited use of Tetum in church and some schools was still considered to be compatible with desired linguistic objectives: as an Austronesian language, Tetum was only one step removed from Indonesian, and was in any case merely an interim phase before full and exclusive use of Indonesian could be achieved. Observers (e.g. Carey, 1997) report that during the Indonesian period the use of Tetum spread substantially amongst East Timorese – as a result of Church activities and as a symbol of resistance. On the other hand, the spread of Tetum may also have been exaggerated: Gunn (1995)



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reporting on his travels around East Timor notes very clearly the frequent use of Indonesian, not Tetum, as a lingua franca – a process aided by the spread of transmigrants throughout the country. In any case, it remains doubtful the degree to which Tetum had come to be used between 1975 and 1999 in formerly non-Tetum-speaking areas such as the Fataluku-speaking zone and Oe-Cusse. Unconfirmed reports suggest, for instance, that Indonesian, and not Tetum, replaced Portuguese as the lingua franca in Fataluku areas after 1975. Reports since late 1999 also confirm that few in Oe-Cusse have any knowledge of Tetum. The other indigenous languages of East Timor fared much less well during 1975–1999. They seem to have suffered from total neglect – from both the Church and the Indonesian State. There is no evidence of any effort in favour of any of them. Whereas missionary work before 1975 was often conducted in the local language, and the preparation of language materials and grammars in conjunction with Church activities were not uncommon, all of these activities in favour of local languages other than Tetum appear to have ceased after 1975. There is no doubt that during this relatively short period (24 years), the previous sociolinguistic situation in East Timor was severely disrupted by the intense social and physical disruption caused by the policies and activities of Indonesian authorities – civil and military. Indonesian occupation was characterised by periods of enormous dislocation (in particular forced mass resettlement at the behest of the military in 1977 and 1978), and massive loss of life. When coupled with demographic and economic manipulation and promotion of Indonesian by the State and of Tetum by the Church, these factors are sufficient to put the survival of other East Timorese languages at risk. Carey (1997) was convinced enough of the damage to report the ‘virtual extinction’ of East Timor’s other indigenous languages. Fortunately, such a negative assessment is not borne out by other reports from East Timorese living there for the same period: these indicate that Carey was mistaken, since local languages had, at least until the events of 1999, shown remarkable resilience. It is true, however, that the long-term future of many of these languages could not be guaranteed – especially if Indonesian social and military policies continued unabated. Language planning during the Indonesian period, even more rigid and intense than that adopted during the Portuguese era, also worked on the basis of a very reduced ecology – oriented this time squarely towards Indonesian – designed to replace everything that had gone before it. Critics (e.g. Defert, 1992; Aditjondro, 2000 and many others) have always argued that there were apparently no qualms in adopting any and all means – social and military – to achieve the goal of Indonesianisation in as short a time as possible.

Language Planning in Post-Referendum East Timor (30 August 1999–) The third and most recent phase of language planning in East Timor is associated with the internationally sanctioned referendum on self-determination held on 30 August 1999. The long-term linguistic impact of the incredible upheaval associated with the referendum is unclear and uncertain. The language situation


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in East Timor remains very fluid and will not be stabilised while the current large-scale United Nations presence is in place. Immediately after the vote was held and before the outcome of the vote in favour of independence was announced on 4 September, the security situation began to deteriorate rapidly throughout East Timor. By the time United Nations troops began deployment on 20 September, at least 80% of existing infrastructure had been destroyed and some 80–90% of the East Timorese population displaced from their homes – as part of a coordinated operation organised by the Indonesian military.7 Some 120,000–140,000 people still remain in militia-controlled camps in West Timor, after the slow return of the same number to East Timor. It is not known what the long-term future of these East Timorese refugees will be, with some reports suggesting they may be settled permanently in Indonesia. Many other East Timorese remain unaccounted for. Reconstruction of East Timor, under United Nations supervision, began in earnest in early 2000. It is clear from eyewitness reports from Dili that many displaced persons have yet to return to their own villages or towns. They remain in larger centres, such as Dili, thereby increasing the chances of permanent disruption to the indigenous language ecological environment in East Timor through a possibly permanent shift to a shared common lingua franca, such as Tetum. Whilst the referendum result may have surprised some in Jakarta, supporters of East Timorese independence had already begun formal open planning for separation as early as 1997, long before Indonesia agreed to a referendum. In 1998 the pro-independence CNRT (Timorese National Resistance Council) headed by imprisoned leader, Xanana Gusmão, adopted the so-called Magna Carta – a document designed to serve as the basis for a future post-independence Constitution. Particular consideration was given to the language issue in a future East Timor. With support across the political spectrum, it was agreed that this document should formally designate Portuguese as East Timor’s ‘official language’ with Tetum as its ‘national language’. Neither this document nor subsequent pronouncements or documents give any explicit recognition to other indigenous languages. Language policy issues were also considered during the CNRT’s Strategic Planning Conference held in Melbourne in April 1999 to develop formal policies for post-independence administration and development in East Timor. As part of the gradual transformation of the education sector, for instance, it was anticipated that the use of Indonesian as the medium of instruction would be phased out over 10 years. Portuguese and Tetum would take its place, and some space (still to be finalised at the time) would also be given to English. The 10-year timeframe was intended to allow for the orderly replacement and retraining of Indonesian-speaking teachers (the overwhelming bulk of whom were Indonesian transmigrants). Whilst this was never made explicit, there is little doubt that the progressive elimination of Indonesian from all public spheres was a long-term objective. Overall, this new planning, if and when put into practice, would focus on reversing as quickly as possible Indonesian attempts since 1975 to transform the local ecology in favour of the Indonesian state. From an ecological planning perspective, it is possible for critics to argue that this new phase of planning by the East Timorese simply follows previous Portuguese and Indonesian attempts at establishing an ecology ex nihilo rather



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than being a totally new policy approach directed towards maintaining and encouraging the local indigenous ecology. Events since the referendum have overtaken CNRT’s vision of orderly language planning for East Timor. It now remains to be seen how much Indonesian will be used in East Timor in coming years – given the almost complete departure of Indonesian administrators, military personnel and transmigrants. The disappearance overnight of Indonesian teachers who staffed most of the eduction sector also means that the education system now has to be rebuilt from scratch – with new language medium policies if so desired.8 Many pro-Indonesian supporters (‘pro-integrationists’) – including their leadership – also remain outside East Timor. A smaller number of pro-integrationists, not tainted by military activity and links before and after the referendum, are now back in East Timor. The dramatic blow dealt to Indonesian, in the aftermath of events in East Timor, is of course a boon to Portuguese. In the face of some criticism (discussed at the end of this section), the leadership of the CNRT, including Xanana Gusmão, has reiterated on numerous occasions since the referendum that, in accordance with the Magna Carta, Portuguese and Tetum will become East Timor’s official and national languages respectively. Not surprisingly, Portugal and other Lusophone countries have responded enthusiastically and have become strong supporters of the full reintroduction of Portuguese to East Timor. The CNRT is also committed to full membership of the Community of Portuguese-Speaking Nations. The future of Portuguese in East Timor is now guaranteed, although it remains to be seen what exactly the language’s ecological niche will be, particularly when current estimates suggest only 5–20% of the population is proficient in the language. Tetum’s long-term position is secure, although the precise meaning of its designation as ‘national language’ remains to be determined at this point.9 The situation with respect to the other indigenous languages is much less clear: referendum-related dislocation and the promotion of Tetum in a soon-to-be independent East Timor may combine to favour an eventual language shift to Tetum – precisely in the manner Indonesian government policy has attempted to encourage a shift to Indonesian throughout Indonesia. Of course, planning for the long term and day-to-day reality are two quite different things. As this article is written (September 2000), the linguistic situation in East Timor is nothing less than chaotic – hardly surprising in the circumstances. There is evident confusion about the ecology and about which languages will fill which niches – signs which point to possible permanent wholesale restructuring, if not breakdown, of the language ecology in East Timor in the long term, of the sort that not even CNRT planners in 1998 and 1999 could have envisaged. Available information suggests the following language competence in East Timor: some form of Tetum (60–80%), Indonesian (40–50%), Portuguese (5–20%) and English (1%). The United Nations, though headed by a Portuguese-speaking Brazilian, has adopted English as its official language – to the dismay of many East Timorese looking for employment. In practice, the United Nations is forced to make some use of all four languages and publishes materials in all four – for local and non-local consumption. The UN-controlled multinational


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military force has generally been under English-speaking command, with large numbers of English-speaking soldiers. Some Australian troops have received crash-course training in Tetum but there is as yet no information on its effectiveness. In addition to United Nations civil and military personnel, there are also many international aid workers in East Timor. Very few have any knowledge of Tetum, and rely on English, Portuguese but especially Indonesian to communicate with local East Timorese. Some aid workers have even reported to this author their use of broken Spanish and Italian – since many of the nuns with whom they have contact in the field are members of Italian orders assigned to East Timor. There are also numerous reports of aid workers with no language competence of any kind relevant to East Timor – thereby dramatically affecting their ability to assist. The process of rebuilding schools has begun – and in the current confusion all four languages (Portuguese, Indonesian, Tetum and English) are being used. Reports suggest that Indonesian has, at least for the moment, the upper hand here – because most local teachers received training under the Indonesian system. Teaching materials remain a problem – as they are designed for a rigid Indonesian curriculum much of which is directed towards reinforcement of official Indonesian ideology in the classroom. A shortage of materials and training, especially at higher levels, hampers the use of Tetum. The use of Portuguese in schools is restricted by the obvious shortage of teachers with Portuguese experience, but Portuguese countries have begun to provide upgrading courses and textbook materials. It is not clear to what extent English is being taught to East Timorese children but it faces the same problems as Tetum and Portuguese. Many non-Timorese individuals and organisations have begun teaching English to adults – including a number of university students from Australia who have been active in the support movement for East Timor. Interest in English is high – as a result of sympathy for Australia and its lead role in the UN’s military mission to East Timor, and a clear understanding of the economic benefits of fluency in English – given the influx of English-speaking foreigners working for the United Nations and aid organisations as well as the many private businesses that have entered from the nearby Australian city of Darwin. Volunteer Portuguese language classes for adults are also popular and are often taught by former Portuguese trained teachers who had not been permitted to work since the Indonesian invasion of 1975. The choice of Portuguese as the future official language has not been accepted by all sectors of East Timorese society. Indeed over the course of 2000, it has been criticised by many East Timorese student activists – born after 1975, educated in the Indonesian system and with little or no knowledge of Portuguese – who played an active role in the East Timorese resistance in Dili before the referendum. It is clear that the new policy will, in the absence of intensive language training in Portuguese, disadvantage them. Instead many of these student activists have pushed for official status to be given only to Tetum – both to level the playing field and as the true expression of East Timorese identity. This last claim leads to an interesting contradiction, since supporters of Portuguese also argue that, after 500 years of contact, Portuguese is (with Tetum) a basic cornerstone of East Timorese identity.


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With respect to Tetum, matters are further complicated by the fact there is no agreed standardisation accepted by all parties. Supporters of Tetum are split across a number of camps: in favour of either Tetum-Dili, or Tetum-Terik, or a combination of the two. Many others are yet to consider the issue fully and take a position.


A Final Note on Language Planning in East Timor – Who Is it All for Anyway? As one reviews language planning in East Timor, it is possible to argue that all planning efforts and discussion in East Timor have always ignored the indigenous linguistic ecology, especially the first language needs of the majority of its people. Of those with a direct stake in language planning – past and present – in East Timor (i.e. Portuguese authorities, the short-lived FRETILIN government of 1975, the Indonesians who followed, the United Nations today, as well as those active in the language debate today), none has given serious consideration to the many other languages native to East Timor, spoken by some 80% of East Timorese as their first language. Although 60–80% of the population is reported to speak some form of Tetum, most do so only as a second language and with varying ability. Only some 20% have Tetum (of either type) as their first language. The remainder of the population (20–40%) has no Tetum. Yet no side in the language debate in East Timor appears to be aware that other Third World countries are moving increasingly, with the support from international funding bodies, to local vernacular education as a vital precursor to the learning of national and international languages. With the attention of East Timorese no longer focused on resisting Indonesian occupation, the potential for conflict amongst East Timorese on indigenous language issues is now possible. This is of course a frequent pattern in newly decolonised nations when one local language is given more favourable treatment than others (e.g. Adegbija, 2000). The first hint of possible dissatisfaction comes in a recent discussion of language issues held in Dili where the first voices were heard asking why Mambae, which, according to some estimates, may well have the largest number of native speakers in East Timor, should not be given official status over Tetum.

Conclusion The pattern of language planning in East Timor is one that has been too often reported in colonised countries around the world. Those with responsibility for planning show no interest in any holistic or global approach that might take into account all the indigenous languages of the region (Mühlhäusler, 1996). There has been, for the most part, little or no appreciation of the value of indigenous language resources, nor of the value of maintaining linguistic diversity. A reflection of official neglect can be found in the fact that, despite almost 500 years of contact, we still do not know how many languages are indigenous to East Timor, since authorities made no effort to determine this for themselves or to encourage linguists to do so for them. That the other languages of East Timor have apparently survived official indifference and maltreatment since 1975 is a reflection of the surprising ability of the local ecology to adapt and to maintain itself in very


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difficult circumstances. Perhaps fortunately we will never know (given the Indonesian departure in 1999) how much longer the indigenous ecology, with the possible exception of Tetum, could have continued to resist and have survived, if the range of social and military measures in place since 1975 in favour of Indonesianisation had been allowed to continue into the new millennium. During the colonial period (1500s–1999) the loss of any of these languages would have been of no interest or concern at all to the Portuguese or Indonesian authorities. Language planning for them was largely about creating a new language ecology that would bring benefit primarily to those in power (i.e. the colonisers). Portugal and Indonesia adopted, during their period of control, models of language planning for East Timor that made no reference to existing ecologies, but which operated on the premise that it is both feasible and just to impose entirely new (idealised) ecologies that reflected the particular sociopolitical and linguistic ideologies of the planners, rather than the concerns of the colonised. Even the apparently favourable treatment given to Tetum by colonising authorities in the past needs to be interpreted for what it was. Its special niche in the local ecology as the most favoured local language was always informal, and tightly controlled, and was designed more to assist planners establish control of the local ecology for their own purposes than to encourage the maintenance of any part of the indigenous ecology. New planning on the part of the East Timorese themselves (e.g. the efforts of the CNRT) give formal recognition for the first time to an indigenous language, i.e. Tetum, but critics are still able to point to a failure to take a holistic approach to the indigenous ecology, one which would require full consideration and protection of the other indigenous language of East Timor. Notes 1. To be fair, FRETILIN did include in its programme a policy point in favour of ‘the study’ of the other indigenous languages. But this does not appear to have included giving them status equal to that projected for Tetum. 2. The most frequently cited figure – by both sides – is of some 200,000 dead of an indigenous population of 600,000 at the time of the invasion. 3. Defert (1992) provides a convenient summary in Chapter 14 entitled ‘Indonesianizing the Timorese whilst marginalising them in their own territory’. See also Aditjondro (2000) for a particularly disturbing perspective on forced Indonesianisation. 4. Official figures give a much lower figure but are notoriously unreliable. Carey’s figure of 250,000 is mid-range, and is considerably lower than the pre-referendum figure of 400,000 cited by a former employee of the Indonesian regional planning board (Bappeda) in Dili (see Aditjondro, 2000: 182). 5. Transmigration is an official programme to move residents from crowded Java and Bali to underpopulated areas, as a way of relieving pressure on the former and to help development in the latter. The process has long been severely criticised as politically motivated and designed more to cement Indonesian/Javanese control over the outer islands of Indonesia. Critics argue that this is particularly evident in the case of East Timor which traditionally had a relatively high population density, when compared to other transmigration areas. 6. Curiously, during most of this time East Timor was officially a closed province – until 1989 foreigners and non-critical personnel were not technically permitted to enter. 7. The role of the Indonesian military in these events is not in doubt: in addition to damning filmed evidence, a number of Indonesian military personnel have, along with important pro-Indonesian militia leaders, now been publicly accused by Indonesian


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justice authorities for their activities (September 2000). See also Progress Report of the Secretary-General to the United Nations, 13 December 1999. 8. The impact of the departure of these Indonesian teachers can be gauged by Gunn’s (1995) report that in the early 1990s only one teacher in the whole secondary school system in East Timor was East Timorese in origin. The proportion of East Timorese teachers in the primary sector was much higher – about 50%. 9. The more general term ‘Tetum’ is used here – following general East Timorese custom and official CNRT policy which makes no distinction between or explicit reference to Tetum-Dili and Tetum-Terik. In practice the former is favoured, although to what extent is still a point of debate.


Correspondence Any correspondence should be directed to Dr John Hajek, School of Languages, University of Melbourne, Parkville 3052, Australia (j.hajek@ language.unimelb.edu.au). References Adegbija, E. (2000) Language attitudes in West Africa. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 141, 75–100. Aditjondro, G.J. (2000) Ninjas, Nanggalas, Monuments and Mossad manuals: An anthropology of Indonesian state terror in East Timor. In J. Sluka (ed.) Death Squad: The Anthropology of State Terror (pp. 158–88). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Aubrey, J. (ed.) (1998) Free East Timor. Sydney: Random House. Budiardjo, C. and Leong, L. (1984) The War against East Timor. London: Zed Books. Carey, P. (1997) From Netherlands Indies to Indonesia – from Portuguese Timor to the Republic of East Timor/Timor Loro Sa’e: Two paths to nationhood and independence. Indonesia and the Malay World 71, 3–21. Carey, P. (1999) The Catholic church, religious revival, and the nationalist movement in East Timor, 1975–1998. Indonesia and the Malay World 27, 77–95. Carey, P. and Carter, B.G. (eds) (1995) East Timor at the Crossroads: The Forging of a Nation. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Dardjowidjojo, S. (1998) Strategies for a successful national language policy: The Indonesian case. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 130, 35–47. Defert, G. (1992) Timor-Est: Le Génocide Oublié [East Timor: The Forgotten Genocide]. Paris: Editions L’Harmattan. Errington, J. (1998) Indonesian(’s) Development. In B.B. Schieffelin, K.A. Woolard and P.V. Kroskitry (eds) Language Ideologies: Practice and Theory (pp. 271–84). New York: Oxford University Press. Fanany, R. and Effendi, M.Z. (1999) Minangkabau children to Indonesian adults: Promoting public policy through Indonesian language teaching in West Sumatra, Indonesia. Crossroads 13, 105–13. Fox, J. (1997) The historical position of Tetun among the languages of the Timor area. Manuscript. Australian National University. Grade, E.A. (1973) Timor 1973 – panoramica do ensino [Timor 1973 – an overview of teaching]. Revista Militar [Military Review] 25, 211–52. Grimes, B.F. (ed.) (1996) Ethnologue (13th edn). Dallas: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Gunn, G. (1995) Language, literacy and political hegemony in East Timor. In D. Myers (ed.) The Politics of Multiculturalism in the Asia/Pacific (pp. 117–23). Darwin: Northern Territory University Press. Hajek, J. (in press) Language maintenance and survival in East Timor: All change now? Winners and losers. In D. Bradley and M. Bradley (eds) Language Endangerment and Language Maintenance: An Active Approach. London: Curzon Press. Mühlhäusler, P. (1996) Linguistic Ecology: Language Change and Linguistic Imperialism in the Pacific Region. London: Routledge. Pinto, C. and Jardine, M. (1997)East Timor’s Unfinished Struggle. Boston: South End Press.

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The Author


John Hajek, a graduate of the Universities of Melbourne (BA Hons) and Oxford (DPhil), has worked for many years with the East Timorese community in Australia on language-related matters. Whilst most of his efforts have been directed towards the description of East Timorese languages, he has been a keen observer of language planning and policy issues in East Timor for some time. He has a special interest in the preservation and promotion of all of East Timor’s indigenous languages.