Don Greenlees, Jakarta – It is easy to see what has gone wrong for Indonesia in Irian Jaya. On the Jayapura airport road, a Buginese taxi driver who has lived in the city for 30 years refers to indigenous Papuans as "orang hutan" (orang-outang) and in case his passengers don't get the point he adds "monyet" (monkey).
A couple of years ago a Papuan journalist with a national daily newspaper was spitting with anger in the town of Wamena over an Indonesian army colonel. "He keeps on calling us primitives," he said.
The divide between settlers and Papuans is obvious in other ways. The good jobs and material goods are mostly in the hands of the non-indigenous, who comprise almost half the population.
These are old grievances but are a potent source of conflict. If serious violence does come to Irian Jaya, it is just as likely to involve Papuans hunting down settlers as it is the police and military shooting Papuans.
During riots on October 6 in Wamena, 30 people died – 25 of them, say the police, were settlers murdered by indigenous Papuans. The trigger was a police attempt to bring down six separatist Morning Star flags.
The cries for freedom in Irian Jaya resonate against a background of injustice, acutely perceived. But it would be a mistake to assume all Papuans in the province they refer to as West Papua automatically equate the word freedom with independence.
Papuans want a better deal and Jakarta has been painfully slow to respond, yet it may still be possible to accommodate their demands short of Indonesia letting the province go.
Indeed, some Papuan leaders acknowledge they are not ready for immediate independence. Moreover, they warn there would be a great risk of a descent into tribal violence in such an event.
"Tomorrow morning if Indonesia collapses and we have independence, we will fight each other," says human rights activist John Rumbiak. Asked how long the Papuans need, he replies: "Give me 15 to 20 years."
But there is a worrying gap between this reality and popular expectations fuelled by some of the rhetoric coming from the Papuan Presidium, the indigenous leadership council. There are valid concerns that if these expectations are disappointed, violence could flare.
Although it is poorly armed, there is a well-organised militant independence group, Satgas Papua. It faces equally militant pro-Jakarta forces that appear to enjoy covert military support. Fear and anxiety about the potential for violence is running high in West Papua, among both Papuan and settler communities. Superficially life goes on, but religious and community leaders say that the apparent normality belies deep misgivings about what might well happen in the coming weeks.
The focus of attention is Friday this week – the anniversary of a 1961 declaration of independence and the adoption of the bintang kejora, the Morning Star flag. This is also the deadline set by the Papuan congress in June for the achievement of a range of goals, including the start of a dialogue with Jakarta on political and economic issues.
With Papuan leaders unable to report any real progress, there are concerns that hardliners could try to take the initiative away from the presidium. For the past two days, presidium members have been striving to avoid such an outcome by meeting hardline elements and urging them to treat Friday as an anniversary to celebrate rather than a deadline for declaring independence.
But even if they succeed, the root problem remains and Jakarta seems only dimly conscious of how to handle Papuan grievances. Indonesia has invested a great deal more in schools and health facilities than the disinterested Dutch but the disparity, real and perceived, between settlers and Papuans remains great.
"The problem is there is no single comprehensive policy from the Government in Jakarta or local government to cope with the Papuan problem," says Budi Hernawan, a Javanese brother with the Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace in Jayapura.
An example is the confusion generated over the name of the province and the use of the Morning Star flag. Early on, President Abdurrahman Wahid appeared determined to find the kind of amicable solution to the Papuan problem that was slipping away from him in Aceh and had proved impossible in East Timor. He was accessible to Papuan leaders and inclined to be generous.
Two symbolic gestures were important: agreement to allow the Morning Star to fly beside the red and white Indonesian flag and for Papuans to call the province West Papua, the 1961 independence name. But Mr Wahid was too far ahead of his colleagues, most significantly Vice-President Megawati Sukarnoputri, the parliament and the armed forces.
He was pushed into a breach of faith with the Papuans when he was forced to insist Morning Star flags come down and that the name of the province had never officially changed.
But Jakarta's reversal is too late. Flags still fly and Papuans, who have created a cargo cult out of the Morning Star, investing it with spiritual significance, will fight to ensure it is not brought down – just as they did in Wamena with bloody results.
For now, there is a stand-off. Jakarta is opposed to the flag, but appears committed to achieving its aims by negotiation. "There are no deadlines [for lowering the flag]," says provincial police chief Brigadier Silvanus Wenas, who is acting on direct instructions from the President. "We will continue to have a dialogue."
Longer term, Jakarta hopes to take the steam out of independence by offering a package of administrative autonomy and a much better cut of revenues generated from natural resources, particularly from the giant Freeport copper and gold mine.
Although for many Papuans the word autonomy is unacceptable, it is premature to say the package won't meet their demands. The moderate leadership in any case accepts it would be a necessary stepping stone to their ultimate ambitions.
Whether it will be enough to solve the problem and prevent the independence push from building momentum rests on how cleverly Mr Wahid and his colleagues play their hand.