Dean Yates, Wamena – It was a typical Sunday in a village not far from the highland town of Wamena in Indonesia's restive Papua province.

Word spread that police from the feared elite mobile brigade were on their way. Villagers, wearing their best clothes at a Mass in a church, dropped their prayer books and fled, said one village elder. Many ran for the mountains that ring this mainly Christian region of the world's most populous Muslim nation. The police never came that Sunday a few months ago, but the incident demonstrates the fear of the security forces across the giant province.

Following the military's fresh offensive in Aceh province on the northern tip of Sumatra island, in which more than 800 people have been killed since May 19, independence and religious leaders worry the country's other separatist hot spot will be next. What happens in Papua, formerly Irian Jaya, will say much about how far Indonesia is prepared to go to keep the archipelago together. Foreign investors, eyeing the province's vast natural resources, will be watching in particular.

Already, Jakarta's plan to split Papua into three provinces has sparked discontent, and in recent weeks at least four people have been killed in clashes. That could start a fresh cycle of violence. "This just showed how scared people are. Villagers are still traumatised by past military operations," said the elder, who asked that neither his name nor that of the village be used.

Larger in area than Japan, Papua has had an unhappy history since Indonesia wrested control from former colonial ruler the Netherlands in 1963. The United Nations later sanctioned a vote by hand-picked local representatives that has been called unfair. Jakarta says it has brought development to Papua, introducing modernity to people who only recently have emerged from the Stone Age. The army denies charges of rights abuses.

Intimidation and distrust

But a 10-day trip through this untamed region on the western side of New Guinea island, where some tribesmen wear nothing but penis sheaths, shows many Papuans want independence, having lost faith in the government of President Megawati Sukarnoputri, especially since she signed the plan to split Papua in January. Intimidation of Jakarta's opponents had grown, some said.

Another potential flashpoint could be violence with migrants from other parts of Indonesia. They comprise at least one third of Papua's population and control the economy. "Living here, being part of this community, part of these people, you feel like there is a systematic agenda from Jakarta to create conflict," said Benny Giay, a respected Protestant church leader, wearing a knitted pouch for his handphone which had Papua's banned independence flag woven on it. Community leaders said Jakarta's plan to split up Papua was a response to a growing movement of political and religious figures backing independence. The declaration of one separate province was postponed last month after rival groups fought with spears and four people were killed. The government argues that splitting up Papua will make it easier to spread the province's wealth.

But at the heart of any debate about Papua is the military, which has about 10,000 troops in the province. Papua, also called West Papua, helps the generals meet shortfalls from the state budget, which only covers a third of their operational needs, through protection for foreign investment projects and the military's own businesses. "West Papua for the military is a treasure trove," said Denise Leith, an Australian academic and author of "The Politics of Power: Freeport in Suharto's Indonesia". "That's one reason why they would be far less willing to let go of West Papua than they ever were with East Timor." The military and the Jakarta elite are still chastened by East Timor's loss in 1999, when the former Portuguese colony voted in a UN-sponsored ballot to break from Indonesian rule.

Educated people the threat

Papua military chief Major-General Zainal Nurdin dismissed threats from a dwindling band of rebels called the Free Papua Organisation (OPM) who have fought for independence for decades. What concerned Nurdin was a civilian movement whose members, he said, were using "clever" ways to pursue independence, such as linking their agenda to human rights, traditional land usage issues and demands for a revision of Papua's history. "It's like this. If this is not handled seriously now, later it will become worse," he said. Nurdin said this group of "educated" people could be anyone.

Indeed, there was a flowering of openness in Papua after the downfall of former autocratic President Suharto in 1998. Tribal and community leaders established the Papuan Presidium Council, which sought independence peacefully. It stole the spotlight from OPM. Then, in November 2001, special forces soldiers killed the presidium's leader, Theys Eluay. Some were jailed, with the toughest sentence three-and-a-half years. Nurdin said if people were scared of the military, it was because of the past, not post-Suharto military policies.

He said there was no need for martial law similar to that imposed in Aceh. Accusations that the military wanted to create conflict were nonsense while charges that the generals were using Papua to make money were "vulgar", he said. "Why would it be good to be in a conflict area? That's very tiring. That's why I said if there are groups who still don't like us, they will seek any reason [to attack us]," he said.

That doesn't wash with Eluay's replacement as leader of the presidium, Tom Beanal. "For 40 years we have been deceived. Every policy has been made with the intention of getting rid of the Papuans," he said.