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PALGRAVE MACMILLAN STUDIES ON
HUMAN RIGHTS IN ASIA
SERIES EDITOR: MIKYOUNG KIM

Rethinking Human Rights and


Peace in Post-Independence
Timor-Leste Through Local
Perspectives
Khoo Ying Hooi · Antero Benedito da Silva ·
Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam
Palgrave Macmillan Studies on Human Rights in Asia

Series Editor
Mikyoung Kim, Hiroshima, Japan
This Palgrave Macmillan book series addresses the rising interest in human
rights topics in Asia. It focuses on the largely underexplored territory
of Asian human rights topics highlighting its empirical manifestations,
historical trajectory and theoretical implications. It also goes beyond
the problematic dichotomy between “East” and “West” by engaging
in rigorous case-specific as well as cross-regional comparisons within
South-South context. China’s rise in world politics and its emergence
as a massive donor, for example, has significant yet troubling implica-
tions. The member countries of ASEAN and Northeast Asia, on the
other hand, would have different preoccupations and priorities calling for
context-sensitive diagnosis and prognosis to promote human right causes.
The series is multidisciplinary in nature and open to submissions
focusing on international organization, ethics, criminology, develop-
ment, freedom of expression, labour rights, environment, human/sex
trafficking, democratization, governance studies, disability, reproductive
rights, LGBT, post-/colonial as well as post-/authoritarian critiques and
social movement, among others.
The series publishes full-length monographs, and edited volumes.

More information about this series at


http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/16483
Ying Hooi Khoo · Antero Benedito da Silva ·
Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam
Editors

Rethinking Human
Rights and Peace
in Post-Independence
Timor-Leste Through
Local Perspectives
Editors
Ying Hooi Khoo Antero Benedito da Silva
Department of International and Peace Center
Strategic Studies National University of
Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences Timor-Lorosa’e
University of Malaya Dili, Timor-Leste
Shah Alam, Selangor, Malaysia

Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam


Community Development
Department
National University of
Timor-Lorosa’e
Dili, Timor-Leste

Palgrave Macmillan Studies on Human Rights in Asia


ISBN 978-981-16-3778-0 ISBN 978-981-16-3779-7 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-3779-7

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
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tion in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither
the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with
respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been
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Cover illustration: © Bhong-Jin Kim

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
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The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore
189721, Singapore
Preface

The idea of this book was inspired by my empirical observations in Timor-


Leste, or East Timor, since 2016, based on informal conversations with
the Timorese community in general. During these conversations, one
intriguing question raised was what exactly human rights really mean for
the Timorese community, which endured a long period of bloody conflict
during Portuguese colonial rule and under Indonesian occupation. From
the restoration of its independence in 2002 to the United Nations (UN)-
assisted transition experience until now, where the country is moving
toward strengthening its state-building operations independently, oil-rich
Timor-Leste continues to be one of the world’s poorest countries, with
42% of the population below the national poverty line. The question
then arises: what do human rights and peace mean for Timorese in this
post-independence context?
On a personal note, people often ask how I came to learn about
politics and human rights in Timor-Leste, a country that has thus far
remained rather isolated in the discourse in the Southeast Asia region,
of which many misconceptions exist. Most scholarly work about Timor-
Leste comes from scholars attached to Australian or Portuguese universi-
ties due to their close historical relationship. Occasionally we find litera-
ture written from an Indonesian perspective. Timor-Leste can be consid-
ered “Asian” but also “Pacific” because of its ethno-linguistic and oral
history connections. Coming from the Southeast Asian region, as a South-
east Asian scholar, I realize the necessity of filling this research gap for us

v
vi PREFACE

to better understand Timor-Leste. And more importantly, to learn about


the country from the perspective of local actors.
By highlighting the importance of local voices surrounding the debates
about liberal–local and hybrid peace, this book intends to explore the
question of human rights and peace from the eyes of the Timorese
community. These concepts no longer mean just the absence of conflict;
rather, this book proposes that sustainable peace must be built from rights
frameworks to protect the locals’ interests in the processes of peace and
development. This book emphasizes the urgent need to provide for the
needs and facilitate the creation of political and social structures that can
support and offer contextual rights and dignity for the Timorese commu-
nity. It seeks to describe the on-the-ground processes by which those
conditions are constructed, maintained and replicated. In Chapter 1,
I explicitly explain Lederman’s (2006) “systematic openness to contin-
gency” in relation to the unintended responses to possibilities arising from
my topics of study.
In 2016, I was involved with an intergovernmental project between the
Ministry of Education in Malaysia and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and
Cooperation in Timor-Leste. Although it was my second time in Timor-
Leste, it was only during that assignment that I started to engage further
with the Timorese, particularly noting the simplicity of life there despite
its hardships. One of my earliest works on Timor-Leste, written in 2017,
relates to art and how it galvanizes youths. I wrote about Arte Moris, or
Living Art, that offers a place for young Timorese to express themselves
while helping them bond and share positive values about their country.1
But Arte Moris is not just meant to promote the arts; it is also a potential
way of helping the East Timorese people rebuild their lives after the inde-
pendence struggle. Two generations witnessed this struggle. The first was
the “Generation of ’99,” or Geracão Foun, born during the Indonesian
occupation. They are distinct from their predecessors, the “Generation
of ’75,” the Portuguese-speaking older leaders who mostly dominate the
government, some of whom emerged as national leaders in the 1980s
and 1990s. Through their arts and music, these artists voice their dissat-
isfaction and discontent with government policies, such as the lack of job
opportunities for youths.

1 See Khoo, Y. H. (2017). How arts heal and galvanise the youth of Timor-Leste.
The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/how-arts-heal-and-galvanise-the-youth-
of-timor-leste-7392. Accessed 18 January 2021.
PREFACE vii

Over time, I started to learn about Timorese politics through the


stories of the people whom I met, which included loosely structured
discussions with the communities. This book is particularly interested in
the interplay between the various factors that come together to produce a
hybrid peace. I get to know the co-editors of this book, Antero Benedito
da Silva and Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam, both from the Univer-
sidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e (UNTL). This approach was triggered
by my early learning phases on Timorese politics that opened the door
for me to learn, from a bottom-up approach, about the discourse on
human rights, peace and democracy. In many instances, international
actors are rarely able to act autonomously in an effective manner without
the partnership of local actors. This hybrid peace reminds us of the lack
of autonomy on the part of local actors in peace-making contexts. One
of the most significant limitations has been the weakness in integrating
the rights discourse during engagement with local actors. Many people
generously shared their knowledge and experience with me as I wrote.
With this, I dedicate this book to all contributors and to all the Timo-
rese whom I met along the journey toward the broad horizon of human
rights and peace. Words cannot express how grateful I am to them,
whose profound insights have touched me in many ways. I would like
to also thank the research grant provided by the Faculty of Arts and
Social Sciences, University of Malaya (PV027-2019) to enable this book
to become a reality.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia Ying Hooi Khoo


February 2021
Praise for Rethinking Human Rights
and Peace in Post-Independence
Timor-Leste Through Local
Perspectives

“I was asked by Dr. Ying Hooi Khoo to write an endorsement on the book
that she, Dr. Antero B. da Silva and Dr. Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam
are going to publish, with the title ‘Rethinking Human Rights and Peace
in Post-Independence Timor-Leste through Local Perspectives.’ In fact,
this is a good opportunity to rethink Democracy, Human Rights, Peace
and Justice in Timor-Leste. The topics presented are all very important
and relevant. I hope the government and civil society groups are able to
read, reflect and take as a standard to improve the situation of Human
Rights and Justice in Timor-Leste. Only in this way can integral, harmo-
nious and sustainable development benefit the people of Timor-Leste. I
address my congratulations to all authors!”
—Dom Carlos Filipe Ximenes Belo,Nobel Peace Prize 1996

“This is an excellent book written mostly by Timorese scholars, which


serves as a critical counter-narrative to some of more widely publi-
cised works on Timorese politics. I find much valuable information and
thought-provoking arguments particularly on the critique of capitalism,
and the dominant discourses on democracy and human rights in this fine
collection.”
—Jacqueline Siapno,University of California, Berkeley

ix
Contents

1 What Is Peace and Human Rights for Timorese? 1


Ying Hooi Khoo
2 Transitional Justice: A Dispute Over Reconciliation
and Justice 27
Antero Benedito da Silva
3 Impunity for Human Rights Violations and its
Consequences in Timor-Leste 41
Juvinal Dias
4 Democratic Discourse and Consensus in Timor-Leste:
Reintegration to Neoliberal Capitalism? 55
Fernando A. T. Ximenes
5 Provedoria Dos Direitos Humanos e Justiça: Between
Human Rights Activism and Limitations 71
Ying Hooi Khoo and Horacio de Almeida
6 Political Uncertainty and Its Implications for Wellbeing
Rights of Timorese Society 89
Jose Cornelio Guterres
7 Patriarchy and Women’s Rights in Timor-Leste 99
Eugenia Urania da Costa Correia

xi
xii CONTENTS

8 The Neglected Rights of Elderly Women in Timor-Leste 109


Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam
9 Environmental Justice in Timor-Leste: Legal Practices
and Challenges 121
Adilsonio da Costa Junior

Index 133
Notes on Contributors

Eugenia Urania da Costa Correia is the Executive Director of Comite


Orientador 25 (CO25). She has helped CSOs and other agencies under-
stand the development of CSOs in Timor-Leste.
Adilsonio da Costa Junior is the Strategy and Engagement Lead at
Oxfam in Timor-Leste. He was previously attached as a researcher with
La’o Hamutuk, the Timor-Leste Institute for Development Monitoring
and Analysis. His work focuses on the environmental impacts of large
infrastructure projects and good governance.
Antero Benedito da Silva, Ph.D. is a university lecturer on peace and
conflict studies and the Director of Peace Center at the Timor Lorosa’e
National University (UNTL). Da Silva and the East Timor Student
Solidarity Council (ETSSC) were awarded the Student Peace Prize of
1999 for their nonviolent struggle for independence against the brutal
Indonesian occupation.
Horacio de Almeida is the former Deputy Ombudsman at the PDHJ.
He has been involved in the independence process of Timor-Leste in
different capacities including the National Resistance of East Timo-
rese Students (RENETIL); the Association of East Timor Students
(IMPETTU); the Office of Political Affairs, Legal Affairs, Human Rights
and Transitional Justice Section of UNOTIL, UNMISET and UNMIT;
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Cooperation (MNEC), CAC, Ministry
of Health and CAVR.

xiii
xiv NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Juvinal Dias is the President of Konsellu Konsultivu Fundu Petrolíferu/


Timor-Leste Petroleum Fund Consultative Council (KKFP). He was
previously attached as a researcher with La’o Hamutuk.
Jose Cornelio Guterres, Ph.D. is the Executive President of the
National Institute For Science and Technology (INCT), a public insti-
tute for science and technology. He is also a lecturer of Cultural Philos-
ophy at UNTL, Sociology of Politics at Universidade da Paz (UNPAZ)
and Instituto Filosofico Sao Francisco de Sales (IFFS). He was previously
the director of the Parliamentary Research Centre and the director of the
Master Program at UNPAZ.
Ying Hooi Khoo, Ph.D. is a university lecturer at the Department of
International and Strategic Studies, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences
at the University of Malaya. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the Malaysian
Journal of International Relations (MJIR), and board members of the
Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs, Journal of Southeast Asian
Human Rights (JSEAHR) and Indonesian Law Review (ILREV). She has
been active in the works related to human rights and democracy in the
Southeast Asia region for more than a decade.
Therese Nguyen Thi Phuong Tam, Ph.D. is a university lecturer and
researcher at the Community Development Department, Faculty of Social
Science, UNTL. She is also a board member of KDA’I, a newly established
public policy institute in Timor-Leste. Nguyen holds a Ph.D. in Sociology
from the University of Minho, Portugal. Her main research areas are on
women, gender and development.
Fernando A. T. Ximenes is a researcher in the Peace Center, Faculty of
Social Sciences, UNTL. He is also the coordinator of CO25.
Abbreviations

ADB Asian Development Bank


ADR Alternative Dispute Resolution
AJAR Asia Justice & Rights (Indonesia)
AMP Alliance of Majority in Parliament
APODETI Associação Popular Democrática Timorense
ASDT2 Timorese Social Democratic Association. Later FRETILIN
ASEAN Association of Southeast Asian Nations
BOP Batalhão de Ordem Público (Timor-Leste)
CAC Anti-Corruption Commission
CAT Convention against Torture and Other Cruel Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or Punishment
CAT-OP Optional Protocol of the Convention against Torture
CAVR Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation of East
Timor
CEDAW Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimina-
tion Against Women
CMW International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of
All Migrant Workers and Members of Their Families
CNRM National Council of Maubere Resistance (Timor-Leste)
CNRT National Congress for Timorese Reconstruction
CO25 Comite Orientador 25

2 The original ASDT is not to be confused with the political party of the same name,
which emerged afterward.

xv
xvi ABBREVIATIONS

CPD-RDTL Popular Committee for Defence of the Democratic Republic


of Timor-Leste
CRC Convention on the Rights of the Child
CRC-OP-AC Optional Protocol to the CRC on the Involvement of
Children in Armed Conflict
CRC-OP-SC Optional Protocol to the CRC on the Sale of Children Child
Prostitution and Child Pornography
CRPD Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities
CRRN Revolutionary Council of National Resistance (Timor-Leste)
CSOs Civil Society Organizations
CTF Commission of Truth and Friendship (Indonesia and Timor-
Leste)
DNCPIA National Directorate for Pollution Control and the Environ-
ment (Timor-Leste)
DNDI National Directorate for Information Dissemination
DOPI Department of Political and Ideological Orientation (of
FRETILIN)
EIS Environmental Impact Statement
EIU Economist Intelligence Unit
EMP Environmental Management Plan
ETAN East Timor and Indonesia Action Network
EU European Union
F-FDTL Timor-Leste Defence Force (Forcas Defesa Timor Lorosa’e)
FALINTIL National Liberation of East Timor
FM Fundasaun Mahein
FRETILIN Revolutionary Front for an Independent East Timor (Frente
Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente). Formerly
ASDT
GBV Gender-Based Violence
GMN Grupo Media Nacional
HAK Association for Law, Human Rights and Justice (Hukum,
Hak Asasi dan Keadilan) (Timor-Leste)
HDI Human Development Index
ICC International Criminal Court
ICCPR International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights
ICCPR-OP2-DP Second Optional Protocol to the ICCPR Aiming to the
Abolition of the Death Penalty
ICERD International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of
Racial Discrimination
ICESCR International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights
ICJ International Court of Justice
ABBREVIATIONS xvii

ICPPED International Convention for the Protection of All Persons


from Enforced Disappearance
ICRC International Committee of the Red Cross
IDPs Internally Displaced Persons
IFA International Federation of Aging
ILO International Labour Organization
IMF International Monetary Fund
INTERFET International Force in East Timor
JSMP Judicial System Monitoring Programme (Programa Monitor-
izasaun Sistema Judisiál)
KDN National Directive Commission
KHUNTO K’manek Haburas Unidade Nacional Timor Oan
Komnas HAM National Commission on Human Rights of Indonesia
KPP-HAM National Commission of Inquiry on Human Rights Viola-
tions in Timor-Leste
KRM Maubere Revolutionary Council (Conselho Revolucionário
de Maubere)
MIPAA Madrid International Plan of Action on Aging
MFA Movimento das Forças Armadas (Timor-Leste)
NAP 1325 National Action Plan for the implementation of the UNSCR
1325 on Women, Peace and Security
NGOs Non-Governmental Organizations
NHRI National Human Rights Institution
OHCHR Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights
PD Democratic Party (Timor-Leste)
PDHJ Provedoria Dos Direitos Humanos e Justiça (Timor-Leste)
PLP People’s Liberation Party (Timor-Leste)
PNTL National Police of East Timor (Policía Nacional Timor
Lorosa’e)
POLRI Indonesian National Police
RAEOA Special Administrative Region of Oé-Cusse Ambeno
RDTL Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste (República
Democrática de Timor-Leste)
RENITIL National Resistance of East Timorese Students
RTTL Radio e Televisão de Timor-Leste
SECOMS Secretariat of State for Social Communication
SOPs Standard Operating Procedures
SPD Social Democratic Party (Timor-Leste)
SRHR Sexual Reproductive Health Rights
SSB Suai Supply Base
TNI Indonesian National Army (Tentara Nasional Indonesia)
TLSDP Timor-Leste Strategic Development Plan (referring specifi-
cally to 2011–2030 plan)
xviii ABBREVIATIONS

TRC Truth and Reconciliation Commission


UDHR Universal Declaration of Human Rights
UDT União Democrática Timorense
UN United Nations
UNAMET UN Mission in East Timor
UNCLOS UN Conventions of the Sea
UNDP UN Development Programme
UNESCO United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organi-
zation
UNHCHR UN High Commission on Human Rights
UNHRTJS UN Human Rights and Transitional Justice Section
UNMIT UN Integrated Mission in Timor-Leste
UNMISET UN Mission of Support to East Timor
UNOTIL United Nations Office in Timor-Leste
UNSCR UN Security Council Resolution
UNTAET UN Transitional Administration in East Timor
UNTL Universidade Nacional Timor Lorosa’e
UPR Universal Periodic Review
US United States of America
USAID United States Agency for International Development
VDPA Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action
CHAPTER 1

What Is Peace and Human Rights


for Timorese?

Ying Hooi Khoo

The Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste (República Democrática de


Timor-Leste, or RDTL) became fully independent on May 20, 2002,
which Noam Chomsky described as “the miracle of the [twentieth]
century” (Chomsky, 2015). Geographically located at the edge of South-
east Asia, Timor-Leste shares more in common with the small island states
of the Pacific, and the result is that its affairs are often left out of regional
discourse. Southeast Asian countries share commonalities yet have expe-
rienced diverse historical and geopolitical circumstances that have created
different political structures and institutional polities. In addition to being
a parliamentary republic with multiparty system, Timor-Leste’s Constitu-
tion (RDTL, 2002) establishes a semi-presidential system of governance
that follows the system of a separation of powers and interdependence

Y. H. Khoo (B)
Department of International and Strategic Studies,
University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
e-mail: yinghooi@um.edu.my

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1


Singapore Pte Ltd. 2022
Y. H. Khoo (ed.), Rethinking Human Rights and Peace in
Post-Independence Timor-Leste Through Local Perspectives,
Palgrave Macmillan Studies on Human Rights in Asia,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-3779-7_1
2 Y. H. KHOO

between the organs of sovereignty: the President, the National Parliament


(henceforth Parliament), the Government and the Courts.
The Portuguese colonized Timor-Leste from 1515 onwards, after
which it was known as Portuguese Timor. The independence move-
ment, the Revolutionary Front for an Independent East Timor (Frente
Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente, or FRETILIN), which was
founded in 1974, unilaterally declared independence from Portugal in
November 1975 and proclaimed the RDTL. However, this indepen-
dence only lasted for a brief nine days, after which it was invaded by the
Indonesian military and continued to be occupied until 1999, a period
of 24 years (Simpson, 2005) during which approximately a third of the
population died from abuses such as execution, starvation or disease.
Timor-Leste’s path to independence was protracted and many did not
expect self-determination to succeed. Its success was due to a unique
combination of resistance from the armed wing in the jungle, the diplo-
matic front (Molnar, 2009; Rothschild, 2017), present at the UN in New
York, Africa, Australia, Portugal and elsewhere, and the clandestine front
of civilians within the country, particularly young people. In June 1998,
the Habibie government proposed a referendum on special autonomy for
the territory. In January 1999, after tripartite negotiations with Portugal
and the UN led by Secretary-General Kofi Anan, the Habibie govern-
ment finally agreed to a UN-sponsored popular consultation that actually
allowed the people of Timor-Leste to decide their own fate: whether to
remain with Indonesia as an autonomous region or gain full independence
(He, 2008).
The popular referendum that took place on August 20, 1999 witnessed
a total of almost 78.9% of the population opting to leave Indonesia. This
result led to widespread violence from pro-Indonesian groups that later
required the intervention of UN peacekeepers (Feijó, 2020). The inter-
national community, under the leadership of the UN, responded with an
influx of foreign aid to rebuild a new Timor-Leste (McGregor, 2007). It
was reported that hundreds of people were killed, the destruction of 70%
of buildings and physical infrastructure occurred as well as the unresolved
displacement of almost two-thirds of the population.
This wave of violence then prompted the deployment of an
Australian-led multinational force, the International Force in East Timor
(INTERFET), with the aim of restoring law and order. Subsequently, the
United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET),
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 3

established through UN Security Council Resolution 1272, was estab-


lished with the objectives of ensuring political and social stability,
preventing any further violence as well as restoring order (Alcott et al.,
2003; Gorjão, 2002). The UN mission, in particular its leader the late
Sergio Viero de Mello, was vested with all sovereign powers to prepare the
territory for political independence and to assist in creating democratic
state institutions for the smooth transition of independence (Santos &
Cravo, 2014). In the first two and a half years of this transition, the state
of Timor-Leste depended entirely on international development assistance
(bilateral and multilateral) as well as support from international non-
governmental organizations (NGOs), which created the impetus behind
the transition.
Until the full restoration of independence to an elected government,
the Constitution was written by an elected body and the first development
plan was prepared. It is important to say something about this UNTAET-
led phase since the debates that took place during this time determined
which human rights instruments were prioritized. The historical back-
ground impacted how the Constitution, founded on the basis of a liberal
peace model with emphasis on democracy, was drafted. The Constitution
stipulates that Timor-Leste is to be a “democratic, sovereign, indepen-
dent and unitary state based on the rule of law, the will of the people
and respect for the dignity of the human person”. It has adopted all basic
and fundamental human rights. In addition, the Constitution requires the
state to engage in administrative decentralization. Timor-Leste is divided
into 13 districts and 65 subdistricts, each headed by a centrally appointed
local leader. The subdistricts are further divided into 442 villages or suco,
which are made up of 2, 225 hamlets or aldeia (McWilliam, 2008),
with local leaders largely selected according to local sociopolitical prac-
tices (Nixon, 2006). According to Wallis (2012), Timor-Leste is a good
case study with which to test the literature relating to the emergence of a
liberal–local hybrid peace. This book intends to offer more on-the-ground
views by presenting writings by locals.
Despite the Indonesian occupation, where justice was denied and
human rights were violated, the Timorese continued to be united. Timor-
Leste is widely considered a liberal peace state-building success story,
compared to similar UN-led efforts in other parts of the world. In 2020,
it ranked 54th in the Global Peace Index issued by the Institute for
Economics and Peace, moving up from the 63rd place in 2019. It also
ranked 78th in the World Press Freedom Index, moving up from 84th in
4 Y. H. KHOO

2019. Among the Southeast Asian countries, Timor-Leste continues to


rank highest in the Democracy Index, issued by the Economist Intel-
ligence Unit (EIU). However, it has been claimed that the policies
implemented have not improved the living standards of the local popula-
tion even after two decades. This is shown in the Human Development
Index (HDI), where Timor-Leste’s HDI value for 2019 was 0.626, which
puts the country in the medium human development category, at 131st
place out of 189 countries and territories. Between 2000 and 2017,
Timor-Leste’s HDI value increased from 0.507 to 0.625, an increase of
23.3% (UNDP, 2018).

What Do Human Rights


and Peace Mean to the Timorese?1
With the long struggle for the restoration of independence, Timor-Leste’s
economy and development suffered. As in other post-conflict countries,
the state-building operation was dominated by attempts to institutionalize
liberal peace. Wallis (2012) lists four main challenges in these attempts.
First is the persistence of local sociopolitical practices. As argued by Mac
Ginty (2010), hybrid peace is the result of the interplay between the
following components: (1) the compliance powers of liberal peace agents,
networks and structures; (2) the incentivizing powers of liberal peace
agents, networks and structures; (3) the ability of local actors to resist,
ignore or adapt liberal peace interventions; and (4) the ability of local
actors, networks and structures to present and maintain alternative forms
of peacemaking. All too often, high-level talks between leaders and the
state have dominated the public notion of peace processes.
After independence, many Timorese continued to follow local sociopo-
litical practices centred on their suco and aldeia (Nixon, 2006), as
explained above. During the Portuguese colonial period, a policy of
indirect rule was imposed, which meant that local sociopolitical prac-
tices remained influential among the communities (Dunn, 2003). There
was a more concerted attempt to entrench state institutions during the
Indonesian occupation, but local practices continued to be observed and

1 Some parts of this section have been published in Human Rights Outlook
in Southeast Asia 2016, SHAPE-SEA, 147–162; Human Rights Outlook in Southeast
Asia 2017, SHAPE-SEA, 139–151; and Human Rights Outlook in Southeast Asia
2018, SHAPE-SEA, 155–168.
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 5

were utilized by the resistance (Nixon, 2006). After the withdrawal of


Indonesia and prior to the UNTAET’s establishment, there were effec-
tively no state institutions or laws, which meant that the Timorese had to
rely solely on their local practices (Hohe & Nixon, 2003). Recognizing
the fact that the newly independent state was not yet able to permeate
rural areas, and that local communities continued to provide the social
support network (Hohe & Nixon, 2003), the new state began to formally
engage with local practices. For instance, the Secretariat of State for Social
Communication (SECOMS), through the National Directorate for Infor-
mation Dissemination (DNDI), launched the “Naroman ba suku” (Light
for Suco), part of its “Government Among the People” program, in
Quiri-Lelo Village at Suco Liurai in Aileu (RDTL, 2019). The Naroman
ba suku programs seek to bring information to the local level (the suco
communities) allowing them to present the concerns or obstacles they
face in the national media, in order to give them greater visibility.
The second challenge, as pointed out by Wallis (2012), is a fragmented
society, in which the promotion of democracy is challenged. According
to Richmond and Pogodda (2016), peace formation seeks to find ways
of establishing peace processes and the dynamics of local forms of peace
within their social and historical context, from which political institutions,
norms, laws, rights and processes of redistribution may emerge. These
actors are influenced by the hybrid forms of peace at the state, regional
and global levels, where they operate in relation to the local context
while maintaining sociohistorical continuity. But at the same time, there
is also a focus on transformation, drawing on external influences. There
are three assumptions in the liberal peace model. The first is that it is
often driven from above, or by external actors. The second assumption
is the prioritization of international interventions over local ones, and
top-down state-building over bottom-up approaches. The third assump-
tion is that liberal democratic societies are more peaceful and prosperous
than undemocratic “illiberal societies” (Zakaria, 1997). Liberal peace has
become a model through which Western-led agencies have attempted to
unite the world under a hegemonic system that replicates its liberal insti-
tutions, norms, and political, social and economic systems (Richmond,
2010).
However, local resistance in Timor-Leste reveals the weaknesses of the
model when it confronts key norms and values of the society within
the framework of peace-building. The local peace agency may attempt
to resolve conflict issues so as to be more relevant in local conflict
6 Y. H. KHOO

spheres, in order to move beyond these blockages. In most cases, both


the local and international actors enter into a bargaining relationship
whereby each actor imposes its own cultural values, norms and practices—
when this happens, a condition that termed as hybrid peace governance
has occurred (Jarstad & Belloni, 2012). The reason for this hybridity is
twofold. On one hand, this type of local peace agency lacks local legiti-
macy, suffering a lack of resources, low public and political support and
its inability to counter the structural framework of the elites (Richmond
& Pogodda, 2016). On the other hand, the inability of international
actors to accept differences in terms of identity, local culture, institutions
and pace of development impose hindrances. It is therefore argued that
a peace process dominated by local-scale peace formation, connected to
externalized peace-building efforts, is likely to be more viable, where both
actors are influenced in a progressive interrelationship. Without it, peace
formation may take the form of poorer quality peace in the local context,
as so many post-Cold War cases of intervention have revealed (Richmond
& Pogodda, 2016).
The third challenge is legal pluralism, and fourth is the subsistence
economy (Wallis, 2012). For instance, while people were aware that
Timor-Leste had become an independent state, there was limited aware-
ness of what the Constitution meant. These perceptions, as argued by
Soares (2003), were partly due to the rushed nature of the constitution-
making process, which allowed little time for public consultation or civic
education. In this book, we argue that another crucial challenge is the
lack of rights framework in the process of state- and peace-building in
Timor-Leste.
Timor-Leste’s Constitution has adopted all basic and fundamental
human rights conventions and declarations, and it has established a
National Human Rights Institution (NHRI) and other institutions for
the promotion and protection of human rights. Article 29 (2) declares
that the State recognizes and protects the life of all citizens, and Article
32 (1) places limits on sentences and security measures, and that there
will be no life imprisonment, sentences or security measures lasting for
an unlimited or indefinite period of time. Domestically, there have been
efforts to improve human rights and democracy due to its indepen-
dence struggle. In 2014, based on instructions from the Prime Minister,
No.17/X/2014, the National Directive Commission (KDN) was estab-
lished, led by the Ministry of Justice, comprising representatives from UN
agencies in Timor-Leste, the Provedoria Dos Direitos Humanos e Justiça
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 7

(PDHJ) and representatives of civil society and human rights focal points
from each ministry (RDTL, 2016). Timor-Leste also established action
plans such as a national action plan on gender-based violence (GBV), a
national action plan for zero hunger (ibid.) and a national action plan
for persons with disabilities. In 2016, the government launched an action
plan on women, peace and security.
Timor-Leste joined the UN right after their restoration of indepen-
dence. Thus far, the Timor-Leste government has ratified seven inter-
national instruments out of nine as listed in Table 1.1. The remaining
major international instruments that it has not ratified are the Convention
on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) and the International
Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappear-
ance (ICPPED). Although the Constitution has adopted the general and
customary principles of ratified international law and treaties, ensuring
that all national legislation must not contradict international law, Timor-
Leste has not been able to fully fulfil the general recommendations of the
treaty bodies.
Having ratified the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court
(ICC), Timor-Leste has included the provisions of the Rome Statute in
national law to criminalize actions against humanity. As set out in Article
124 of the Penal Code, it will punish, with 15–30 years imprisonment,
the following acts:

Homicide, extermination, forcible deportation of a population, imprison-


ment or depriving a person of physical liberty in violation of international
law, torture, rape, sexual enslavement, forced prostitution, forced steriliza-
tion, any form of sexual violence of comparable seriousness, persecution
against a group or a collective entity due to politics, race, nationality,
ethnicity, religion, sex, enforced disappearances, apartheid, and inhumane
acts that cause suffering, serious injury to body or to mental or physical
health. (RDTL, 2016)

But it has not yet enacted legislation providing for cooperation with the
ICC, reflecting the weaknesses in the implementation of its Penal Code,
which is not just insufficient to challenge impunity for past crimes, it is
also not consistent with the Rome Statute, other human rights treaties
or customary international law. Specifically, the Penal Code did not
include guarantees that there will be no national amnesties, pre-conviction
8 Y. H. KHOO

Table 1.1 Ratification status of international treaties in Timor-Leste

Treaty Signature date Ratification date and


status: accession (a)

Convention Against Torture April 16, 2003 (a)


and Other Cruel Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or
Punishment (CAT)
Optional Protocol of the September 16, 2005
Convention Against Torture
(CAT-OP)
International Covenant on Civil September 18, 2003 (a)
and Political Rights (ICCPR)
Second Optional Protocol to September 18, 2003 (a)
the ICCPR Aiming to the
Abolition of the Death Penalty
(ICCPR-OP2-DP)
Convention on the Elimination April 16, 2003 (a)
of All Forms of Discrimination
Against Women (CEDAW)
International Convention on April 16, 2003 (a)
the Elimination of All Forms of
Racial Discrimination (ICERD)
International Covenant on April 16, 2003 (a)
Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights (ICESCR)
International Convention on January 30, 2004 (a)
the Protection of the Rights of
All Migrant Workers and
Members of Their Families
(CMW)
Convention on the Rights of April 16, 2003 (a)
the Child (CRC)
Optional Protocol to the CRC August 2, 2004 (a)
on the Involvement of Children
in Armed Conflict
(CRC-OP-AC)
Optional Protocol to the CRC April 16, 2003 (a)
on the Sale of Children Child
Prostitution and Child
Pornography (CRC-OP-SC)

Source Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR)


1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 9

pardons or similar measures of impunity for crimes under international


law in the future (OHCHR, 2016b).
As a post-conflict small state, access to justice remains a challenge for
a large part of the population. Currently, there are a total of four perma-
nent courts for 13 municipalities. Access to justice is made even more
challenging with the poor road conditions and the high costs of travel-
ling. The concept of a “mobile court” was introduced and implemented,
with the intention to increase access to the court, but it has not been
very successful thus far. Another limitation is language, where the formal
justice system and legislation uses only Portuguese, while most of the
Timorese population speaks Tetun and do not understand Portuguese.
Moreover, many Timorese prefer traditional dispute resolution mecha-
nisms owing to their familiarity and accessibility, but such mechanisms do
not always adhere to international human rights standards, for instance,
women’s rights (OHCHR, 2016a).
Development-related human rights issues are the top concerns in
Timor-Leste. For example, a comprehensive legal basis for determining
land use and tenure remains lacking, although Article 54 (1) of the
Constitution states that every individual has the right to private prop-
erty and can transfer it during his or her lifetime or on death. Most
Timorese in the countryside can access and hold land through customary
and informal systems, where there are no formal legal recognitions.
The related challenges to land issues include landlessness and forced
displacement, disputes caused by massive land occupation, and the legit-
imacy of formal land titles issued during the Portuguese and Indonesian
administrations originated from its post-colonial and post-conflict legacies
(Almeida & Wassel, 2017).
Women and children rights’ issues are also key areas in Timor-Leste,
which has a relatively strong patriarchal system that becomes a factor in
preventing women from obtaining work opportunities. There are also
concerns about the failure to prevent and provide redress for crimes
against women and girls and about the low number of investigations,
prosecutions and convictions in cases of alleged rape and sexual abuse,
lenient sentences in domestic violence cases, failure to issue protection
orders and the excessive use of mediation under the informal justice
system in cases of domestic violence. For instance, although the Civil
Code (Law No. 10/2011) acknowledges equal rights of women and men
in marriage, the fault-based divorce system enshrined in the Civil Code
puts women, including victims of domestic violence, at a disadvantage.
10 Y. H. KHOO

Moreover, neither the Constitution nor its ordinary legislation includes a


definition of discrimination against women in accordance with Article 1 of
CEDAW. The Law against Domestic Violence (No. 7/2010) criminalized
domestic violence, including sexual violence, “even within a marriage”.
Timor-Leste also appeared at CEDAW along with civil society members
who critiqued the government’s performance.
In 2016, Timor-Leste launched its National Action Plan for the imple-
mentation of the UN Security Council Resolution (UNSCR) 1325 on
Women, Peace and Security (UN Women Asia and the Pacific, 2016),
henceforth NAP 1325, the third country in Southeast Asia to adopt such
a measure. It calls for actions to advance the participation and leadership
of women in all aspects of decision-making and peace-building. It aims
to increase the role of women in preventing and mediating conflicts, and
to ensure that women can live free from violence and reap the benefits of
development. But policing and judicial processes for survivors of domestic
violence seeking both protection and justice are lacking. Due to fear of
reprisals, most victims often prefer not to report abuses; rather, domestic
disputes are often solved using traditional laws and practices, either within
the family or before the community leaders. This situation highlights the
important gaps in the legislative, policy and institutional framework for
human rights protection in the country.
With half of Timor-Leste’s population living in poverty, the govern-
ment struggles to find ways to improve the livelihoods of the 1.3
million-strong population (The World Bank, n.d.). The economy, corrup-
tion and the government’s failure to utilize the wealth generated by
oil resources to support development and create jobs dominate polit-
ical discourse. These issues will not go away until feasible solutions are
found. Timorese want to be better and are eager to see more improve-
ment, so as to be able to compete globally. Timor-Leste has shown
strong determination in its commitment to democracy (being more boldly
democratic than many countries in Southeast Asia) and optimism about
the future despite the obstacles faced (Khoo, 2018). For instance, since
the restoration of independence, Timor-Leste has had competitive elec-
tions which have been universally recognized as free and fair. Even when
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 11

tensions were high during the 2006 internal political crisis,2 presiden-
tial and parliamentary elections were held the following year with only
minor incidents of violence. The Timorese people have demonstrated a
commitment to democracy; despite polarizing opinions and differences
in ideological beliefs, they are consistently united.
In 2017, more than 20 political parties contested in the March 20 pres-
idential election and the July 22 parliamentary election, the first elections
held in Timor-Leste without assistance from the international community
since the UN mission departed in 2012. The elections were a significant
success because they were held in an orderly and peaceful manner, which
showed how much the Timorese valued their hard-won democratic rights,
demonstrating an awareness that political stability is particularly crucial for
a young democratic nation (ibid.). While the calling of the early election
triggered questions about the principles of consensus politics and political
inclusion, it was crucial for settling the power struggle between the polit-
ical parties and their coalitions so that Timor-Leste’s government could
start governing properly. Furthermore, Timorese are aware that peace
is not only the absence of conflict; it must also be complemented with
sustainable development. A major issue lies in the fact that Timor-Leste’s
social and economic development has not proceeded in parallel with the
maturity of democracy within the country (ibid.).
These challenges reveal the weaknesses of the development in the state-
building process, where it is widely acknowledged that the government
needs to diversify its resource-dependent economy. Another issue is the
government’s ambitious and rapidly developing infrastructure projects,
with possible negative implications for the environment. Increasing rural-
based development is critical but it will not be simple; progress is also
intertwined with the issues of governance and balanced development.
These are some of the issues that cannot be neglected in Timor-Leste’s
political discourse, which are obvious in every part of the country. In
economic and social terms, sustainable transformation requires a contin-
uous investment in capacity-building and empowerment of the people.
The government also needs to prevent vested interests from leading the

2 Tensions between the national police and the armed forces resulted in open conflict
between the two institutions, a breakdown of law and order and the displacement of
more than 150,000 people. Political and security efforts to resolve conflict and to bring
stability continued and despite attacks on both the President and the Prime Minister in
2008, the country gradually recovered from the crisis. See also Chapter 3.
12 Y. H. KHOO

resource-rich country to the “resource curse” and implement reforms in


key areas that remain under-explored, such as agriculture and community-
based tourism (Khoo, 2017).
Why then has so little been done in terms of economic diversifica-
tion? Has the role of international actors such as the UN, European
Union (EU) and others failed? The decentralization of political power
is crucial to empowering the Timorese people for self-governance at the
grassroots level, so as to enable them to build their capacity for socioe-
conomic development. A renewed effort on democratic decentralization,
so that marginalized groups facing various issues (such as poverty, land
right issues, illiteracy, low employment, corruption and cronyism) can
move toward sustainable democracy is crucial. Unemployment is partic-
ularly critical given that around 70% of Timorese are below 30. While
infrastructure has been receiving the biggest portion of Timor-Leste’s
annual budget for the past decade, grievances about poor infrastructure
such as roads, water and sanitation, irrigation and the availability of basic
infrastructure continue. On top of that, there are also concerns that devel-
opment has been heavily focused on Dili, the capital city. Within the
model of liberal–local hybrid peace, it is significant that most development
projects focus more in Dili, which increases the growing gap between Dili
and the other 12 districts (Neves & Khoo, 2017).

Sustainable Peace with a Rights Framework


While the concepts of human rights and peace are increasingly linked,
there is great variance in the debates on how exactly these concepts are
linked, especially in practice (Hannum, 2006). Increasingly, scholars have
attempted to examine the nexus between peace, development and human
rights. For instance, Hoole (2009, p. 136) notes that “there is no shortcut
to peace without human rights” and Lopatka (1980, p. 364) states that
“there cannot be a real peace in a society in which human rights and
the fundamental freedoms are mass-violated”. As Sharp (2013) notes, the
“increasingly shared space between transitional justice and post-conflict
peace-building initiatives has sparked new interest among both scholars
and policymakers in sounding out potential connections between both
fields”. This book stems from the increased recognition of envisaging the
peace and development processes within the rights framework. Peace in
the contemporary context of Timor-Leste does not mean just the absence
of conflict, as which Galtung refers to as “negative peace” (1969). Making
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 13

peace is not just about focusing on the role of the state, or on norms and
values, but it must also be tied to local social practices and tackle the
injustices and inequalities maintained by the international system. The
smaller the gap in power relations between local and global narratives,
the more peace can be shaped by multiple local particularisms and their
interactions (Richmond & Pogodda, 2016).
At a fundamental level, war can lead to violations of human rights and
vice versa (Isakovic, 2001). On the surface, human rights and peace are
seen as two closely interrelated concepts. The foundations of the inter-
national human rights system itself has revealed the strong connection
between the two concepts, as rooted in the experiences of the Second
World War, after which the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
(UDHR) was created in 1948 based on the belief that human rights
violations threatened world peace (McGuinness, 2011). Civil and polit-
ical rights, as well as social, economic and cultural rights, are recognized
in the UDHR, but the right to development was only emphasized in the
larger international community following the 1993 Vienna Declaration
and Programme of Action (VDPA) that linked human rights with issues
such as democracy and development and the rights-based approach to the
study of development (Kindornay et al., 2012).
However, different actors have different conceptual approaches to
human rights. For instance, the ongoing debates about which “rights”
are universal and whose “rights” should be protected (Wellman, 2000).
Third-generation human rights, or “solidarity rights”, have been the most
controversial thus far and have not been as fully incorporated into inter-
national law. These include the right to development and the right to
peace. The challenge lies in how a state can integrate both concepts
into the peace framework to ensure that development is guaranteed. As
asserted by Galtung (1969), structural violence is built into a system of
inequality, resulting in an unjust social structure that can hinder people
from achieving their full potential. Galtung also introduced the concept
of “positive peace” to refer to the absence of structural violence and
the presence of social justice. Scholars also point to the fact that peace-
time institutions intended to provide justice are not just unsustainable,
but in the long run they are just not the same as building institutions
that promote human rights (Cooper, 2002) in society. In each of these
arguments, we see the assertion of human rights as an integral part of
establishing positive peace. In the context of Timor-Leste as a post-
conflict small state, there remain many practical challenges to linking
14 Y. H. KHOO

peace, human rights and justice together because of the complexity,


internal contradictions and variations within and between international
and local actors. For instance, there remains a lack of human rights
education, while peace education dominates the discourse.
This book proposes that considering human rights and peace in a
broader context may help to bridge some of these developmental gaps.
Restoring rights that have been neglected due to violent conflict can
potentially provide a strong framework for better integrating the concepts
of human rights and peace (Kumar, 2011). Wallis suggested that a
liberal–local hybrid peace project has emerged to guide state-building
in Timor-Leste, but the attempt to institutionalize liberal peace faced
challenges due to the fragmented subsistence-based society (Chesterman,
2002; Wallis, 2012). This resulted in the creation of poorly under-
stood liberal state institutions that were disconnected from the majority
of Timorese, who continued to follow their inherited local sociopolit-
ical practices. While engagement was established and formalized, the
integration of rights framework into the discourse was lacking.
Related is Barnett’s (2008) theory of peace as freedom, synthesized
from Galtung’s theory of peace as the absence of violence and Amartya
Sen’s (1999) theory of development as freedom. Sen’s alternative theory
featured an empowerment approach, where he claims that development
is not so much something that can be done to others, but instead some-
thing that people do for themselves. In Barnett’s conception, peace is
defined as the equitable distribution of economic opportunities, political
freedoms and social opportunities. The role of institutions is emphasized
as a requirement, and the pluralist state is considered the best model in
maintaining peace as freedom.
In the period from the Indonesian military withdrawal in 1999 to
UNTAET rule until independence, a platform for a standard liberal state-
building program was created (Richmond, 2010). However, the focus was
on institutional development and on establishing liberal governance from
the top-down, which came at the expense of bottom-up peace-building,
social justice and welfare. Such an approach ignored the very politicized
and active citizens of the new state, who were increasingly aware of how
the new context represented their needs and rights. Despite having a large
population that was very young, many of whom were unemployed, unset-
tled and dislocated, the immense pressure to make the peace dividend
meaningful for them was more or less ignored. The key problems of
poverty and unemployment have not been addressed in the long run,
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 15

and these issues have major implications for democratization and for
stability. Socioeconomic factors in particular were clearly recognized in
the UN Secretary-General’s report soon after the 2006 political crisis,
which focused in particular on poverty and deprivation, unemployment
and a lack of opportunity, especially among the younger generation.
The political crisis of 2006 underlined the weakness of the process
of state-building, which severed the state’s connection with its subjects
and their politics, ignored the cultural priorities of local communities and
failed to address their socioeconomic concerns directly. Former president
Xanana Gusmão (2003) was aware of the problems that had emerged
with liberal peace and many of those contentious issues. He argued that
the experiences of peace-building in Timor-Leste indicated that peace was
not just a normative aim, but also a basic human right that involved
preventing not just civil violence, but an engagement with socioeconomic
deprivation and a lack of development. This argument rightly pointed to
the need to manage the liberal–local division of inequality in rights and
needs.
In response to the challenges faced by the institutionalization of liberal
peace, the Timor-Leste government sought to “legitimize” local sociopo-
litical institutions through decentralization. Such engagement is provided
for in the Constitution, which requires the state to “recognise and value
the norms and customs of East Timor that are not contrary to the Consti-
tution and to any legislation dealing specifically with customary law”,
and to “assert and value the personality and the cultural heritage of the
East Timorese people”. For instance, democratic elections were intro-
duced for aldeia chiefs, suco chiefs and suco councils as stipulated in the
Law on the Election of Suco Chiefs and Suco Councils No. 2/2004
(RDTL, 2004). And in response to the 2006 crisis, the government
held a series of reconciliation ceremonies, beginning at the village level
and culminating in a national ceremony in Dili (Jolliffe, 2008). Despite
this, disconnect between the central state and people living in rural
areas remains. While Timor-Leste holds regular elections, the formation
of a relationship between people and their elected representatives have
been challenged by the proportional, party-list electoral system, which
encourages voting along party lines. This model has been criticized for
undermining the accountability of parliamentarians and providing them
with “no compulsion to listen to an electorate” (Richmond, 2009).
16 Y. H. KHOO

With these important caveats in mind, international actors such as


the UN, EU, Australian organizations and various other forms of inter-
national aid institutions have generally supported the development of
democratic institutions and norms. However, while local actors are
included, these norms and practices sometimes are found to be inappro-
priate to the local context. This triggers a debate about hybridity, despite
the conceptual limitations inherent in the term, revealing the gap between
the international and the local (Belloni, 2012). Local actors have consid-
erable agency in shaping the domestic environment and in responding
to international initiatives. Yet, challenges such as a lack of awareness
of the intertwined relationship sometimes causes international actors to
undermine local interests. As an “outsider” researcher in Timor-Leste, I
was sometimes caught in-between while playing my role. It is precisely
through this process of resistance to external pressures that local agents
hybridize peace (Belloni, 2012). A familiar narrative has been that locals
cannot contribute meaningfully because of a lack of capacity, such as low
education levels. A counter-narrative has been that international actors
tend to ignore actual local capacity.
There is an awareness that there needs to be support for indigenous
peace processes by international actors, sometimes leading to tensions
over who owns what. Lopes (2016) argues that the partners of the UN
mission, for instance, were not representative of the broader Timorese
society, being particularly distant from their daily life, where traditional
governance remains most relevant in peace formation. While the introduc-
tion of formal governance structures in parallel with traditional informal
institutions have created new sites of competition over power, it also
enables synergies for sustainable peace through such continuous contes-
tation. Rather than viewing local practices as hurdles to state-building,
the liberal–local hybrid peace model as proposed by Wallis (2012) focuses
on their “strength and resilience”. From this perspective, it argues that
it is possible to construct alternative methods of liberal state-building
which draw from, and work with, embedded local sociopolitical practices
to achieve “mutual engagement”.
All the frameworks for peace, from the international to the local,
require pluralism and equity (Richmond & Pogodda, 2016). These
critiques converge with the emerging consensus that state-builders should
seek to engage in “unscripted conversations” (Duffield, 2001) with “ordi-
nary people, in their own everyday” (Richmond, 2009). By engaging
with local actors, the liberal–local hybrid peace model recognizes that
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 17

liberal democracy could work together with local sociopolitical practices


(Benton, 2002; Wallis, 2012). The construction of hybrid peace concerns
the ability of local actors to promote alternative forms of peace. From
here, it is a shorter step to understanding how international and local
actors may work together effectively, focusing on how local legitimacy
may emerge (Richmond & Pogodda, 2016).

Dealing with the Past to Repair the Present


Since 1999, Timor-Leste’s economy has remained largely underdevel-
oped. As with other post-conflict countries, there have been many talks
and debates about transitional justice and whether a proper reconcili-
ation mechanism is put in place. These discourses triggered the ques-
tion of whether comprehensive legal mechanisms are available, with
different perspectives ranging from impunity to human rights violations
in the state-building process. Timor-Leste also faced various post-conflict
vulnerabilities such as getting its voice heard at regional and international
levels, and to some extent had to adopt policies that were sometimes
unsuitable for domestic conditions due to the wave of globalization.
The 2006 political crisis put pressure on the government to redress
structural constraints, avoid or at least minimize the risk of new conflicts
and pursue sustainable development that could empower its own citizens.
This question is crucial because any failure of post-conflict reconstruction
involves high costs and could potentially trigger new forms of conflict or
tension and induce systemic fragility.
Dealing with the past has both an ethical as well as a political
purpose. During transitions and at times of ongoing conflict, ethical
demands, along with political constraints, can create serious dilemmas
(Bacic & Criekinge, 2004). Finding a balance between ethical and polit-
ical demands becomes a challenge for transitional societies. Rigby (2002)
proposes that there are three approaches to dealing with bitter histo-
ries: collective amnesia, retributive justice and prioritizing the truth. The
Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation of East Timor
(CAVR), established in 2001, is mandated to determine the truth behind
human rights violations perpetrated by all sides between 1974 and 1999.
It documented the painful 1975 civil war that resulted in hundreds of
deaths, which has divided many families and communities until now. But
the transitional justice mechanism disappointed war victims, and such
18 Y. H. KHOO

discontent can weaken rule of law because people do not believe in the
national and international justice system.
Related is the notion of the post-conflict situation, which is not always
straightforward since it involves different levels and determining the
causes of conflict. Sometimes, it is difficult to determine when a conflict
has actually ended, given that unstable systematic structures could poten-
tially trigger another new form of conflict. Very often, “there is no easy
‘before’ and ‘after’ conflict” (UNDP, 2008, p. xviii). In practice, the
recovery procedures of post-conflict countries are part of a complicated
process. Different countries progress or even regress in varying ways,
and some risk backsliding into conflict. The key milestones, as identi-
fied by the UNDP (2008, p. xviii), are the: (1) easing of hostilities and
violence; (2) signing of peace agreements; (3) demobilization; (4) disar-
mament and reintegration; (5) return of refugees and internally displaced
persons (IDPs); (6) establishing the foundation for a functioning state;
(7) initiating reconciliation and societal integration; and (8) commencing
economic recovery. But each step is complicated, requires much attention
and may be lengthy. For example, the return of refugees and the reset-
tlement of IDPs remains ongoing, with many still missing in Indonesia.
Reconciliation itself constitutes four elements: justice, forgiveness, mercy
and truth (Lederach, 1999). Reconciliation is a contested concept, where
different leaders have different ideas about what this means, with some
elements more visible than others. Forgiving and forgetting the past,
rather than offering justice, dominates official discourse.
For Nader and Combs-Schilling (1977), the function of justice can be
divided into five categories. First, justice is necessary for conflict preven-
tion and to avoid new escalation. Second, justice can be a means of
rehabilitation and reintegration of offenders back to normal life. Third,
it allows the victims to believe in the values of justice once more. Fourth,
it reaffirms the rule of law and human values in society. Finally, delivering
justice is itself the active socialization of rules and values, and contributes
to their internationalization. The reconciliation process marked by the
Chega! (Enough, No More!) reports have raised doubts at the grassroots
level, where people do not feel that peace has been achieved until the reso-
lution of war crimes is brought about. The challenge is then to find out
how to interact in complex ways, which may positively affect post-conflict
reconstruction. Fragile states, according to Stewart and Brown (2009),
are those that fail or are at high risk of failing in three key dimensions
(authority, service provisions, and legitimacy), which in turn potentially
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 19

undermine state capacity. In the case of Timor-Leste, the success of its


national election in 2017 basically places it in the “successful” category
of post-conflict countries.

Outline of Chapters
This volume is organized around the issues mentioned above. In
Chapter 2, “Transitional Justice: A Dispute over Reconciliation and
Justice”, Antero Benedito da Silva explores the inability of the UN to
establish a transitional justice mechanism to try the Indonesian generals
and other perpetrators residing outside Indonesia who committed
violence and crimes against humanity in Timor-Leste between 1975 and
1999. He examines reconciliation as a political process that has become
complex and complicated, and seeks to provide trade-offs and perspec-
tives for possible new lives. Chapter 3, “Impunity for Human Rights
Violations and its Consequences in Timor-Leste” is closely linked, where
Juvinal Dias examines various cases of human rights violations in the
post-independence era by linking them with some of their potential
causes, with reference to historical impunity, and the failure of interna-
tional justice mechanisms to hold perpetrators accountable. Chapter 4
by Fernando A. T. Ximenes, “Democratic Discourse and Consensus
in Timor-Leste: Reintegration to Neoliberal Capitalism?”, examines the
changing global order and how these external systemic changes affect the
development of democracy and human rights discourse and practice in
this young nation.
Chapter 5 by Khoo Ying Hooi and Horacio de Almeida, “Prove-
doria Dos Direitos Humanos e Justiça (PDHJ): Between Human Rights
Activism and Limitations”, explores the role of the PDHJ that was estab-
lished under Article 27 of the Constitution, which first opened its doors
to the public in March 2006 after the promulgation of Law Number
7/2004. This chapter examines the challenges and opportunities faced by
the PDHJ in dealing with various human rights issues. Chapter 6, “Polit-
ical Uncertainty and Its Implications for Wellbeing Rights of Timorese
Society” by Jose Cornelio Guterres, discusses Timor-Leste’s inadequately
established political system led by inexperienced leaders by linking it to
the challenges in meeting the wellbeing of society. Guterres focuses on
personal, historical and economic factors in explaining political uncer-
tainty and how these factors have implications for adequate standards of
20 Y. H. KHOO

basic needs such as food, water, sanitation, road-building, education and


health.
Chapters 7 and 8 touch on women’s rights. Eugenia Correia addresses
the patriarchal system, the central issues affecting women’s rights in
“Patriarchy and Women’s Rights in Timor-Leste”. Correia examines how
women’s rights are regulated, such as restrictions in access to land tenure
and inheritance, and how they are suffering silently from GBV and social
violence because of their financial dependence on men, especially in rural
and remote areas. She then investigates limiting factors such as the avail-
ability of legal frameworks and recommendations on overcoming such
issues. In Chapter 8, Therese Tam Nguyen’s “The Neglected Rights
of Elderly Women in Timor-Leste” studies the neglected and abused
elderly in the municipalities of Baucau, Viqueque, Maliana, Ermera and
Suai by presenting case studies of the daily living experiences and the
adversity faced by four elderly women. In the discourse of caring for the
elderly, problems of neglect, violence and abuse are a latent phenomenon
that the Timorese community considers private and untouchable house-
hold affairs. Such human rights violations are usually invisible in public
debate and human rights reports by relevant agencies in civil society and
government.
Moving on from women’s rights, the final chapter addressed environ-
mental issues. Chapter 9 by Adilsonio Da Costa Junior, “Environmental
Justice in Timor-Leste: Legal Practices and Challenges” looks at the
various policies, programs and legal frameworks which relate to envi-
ronmental protection, based on an ecological and environmental justice
approach. Despite the existence of a robust legal framework for environ-
mental protection, Timor-Leste’s Strategic Development Plan (TLSDP)
2011–2030 envisions a development model that prioritizes large infras-
tructure projects which pose serious threats to the environment, as well
as the lives and livelihoods of local communities, particularly vulner-
able people who live in the areas surrounding the projects. The chapter
also examines how the implementation of public and private projects
have violated existing environmental laws, further undermining the state’s
ability to enforce legal protection, and offers recommendations to the
state environmental authority on how to improve the implementation of
existing laws and minimize these impacts.
1 WHAT IS PEACE AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOR TIMORESE? 21

Conclusion
The dual resolutions on sustaining peace, as per the UN’s General
Assembly Resolution 70/262 and Security Council Resolution 2282
in 2016, reaffirm the importance of coherence between the UN’s
peace, security and human rights efforts, underscoring the close linkages
between security, development and human rights. Despite the increased
emphasis on links between the protection of human rights and the preven-
tion of conflict, there has been a lack of attention toward using human
rights mechanisms in sustaining peace, a challenge further exacerbated by
divisions in intergovernmental structures. The resolutions on sustaining
peace also underline the “comprehensive, inclusive and people-centred”
vision of the 2030 Agenda; reaffirming the notion of inclusivity that is
fundamental to a human rights approach.
After 2002, the institutionalization of liberal peace has faced signifi-
cant challenges in Timor-Leste, particularly with respect to development
issues. This resulted in the creation of weakly understood liberal state
institutions that were disconnected from the majority of Timorese, who
continued local sociopolitical practices. Compared to some other post-
conflict states, Timor-Leste is in many ways considered a success story in
terms of state-building. However, getting on par with other countries,
in particular regarding issues related to development, is a challenging
process. This also explains why human rights issues in Timor-Leste tend to
focus more on economic, social and cultural issues. As an oil-rich country,
the relationships between democracy and development remain far from
universally positive. The economic importance of natural resources is
especially crucial for it and other small post-conflict states. In this regard,
Timor-Leste faces the challenge of balancing resource dependence and
democracy, as well as ensuring the wellbeing of its own citizens.
The challenge, as highlighted in this book, is that a rights framework
has not been integrated into the peace and development nexus, which we
suggest as an explanation of why Timor-Leste, despite being politically
stable to some extent, remains ranked low in terms of HDI. In sum, the
notion of hybrid peace, as found in Timor-Leste, suggests the need to
move beyond the dominance of international actors as well as top-down
approaches and to follow a bottom-up approach instead, which empha-
sizes local views of politics. This would, in the long run, allow for the
renegotiation of liberal versions of democracy, the rule of law, human
rights, development and the market, where the modern state coexists
22 Y. H. KHOO

with local forms of governance in order to meet the customary needs


of communities and citizens.

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CHAPTER 2

Transitional Justice: A Dispute Over


Reconciliation and Justice

Antero Benedito da Silva

Introduction
Dealing with the past has both an ethical as well as a political purpose.
During transitions and ongoing conflicts, ethical demands and polit-
ical constraints can create serious dilemmas (Bacic & Criekinge, 2004).
Balancing both sets of demands then becomes a challenge to transi-
tional societies. Rigby (2003) proposes that there are three approaches
to addressing bitter histories of the past: collective amnesia, retributive
justice and truth. When speaking of collective amnesia, Rigby (2003)
refers to the Spanish dictator Francisco Franco Bahamonde, who came to
power in 1939 through a military rebellion and subsequent civil war. His
regime became infamous because of its barbaric treatment of the defeated
Republicans and their allies, and for its repressive practices throughout the

A. B. da Silva (B)
Campus Caicoli, Dili, Timor-Leste

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 27


Singapore Pte Ltd. 2022
Y. H. Khoo (ed.), Rethinking Human Rights and Peace in
Post-Independence Timor-Leste Through Local Perspectives,
Palgrave Macmillan Studies on Human Rights in Asia,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-3779-7_2
28 A. B. DA SILVA

country. Instead of addressing these human rights violations, the post-


Franco regime opted for a state of collective amnesia and there was a
peaceful transition to democracy.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) model seems similar
to the Spanish experience. This paper posits that such TRCs became a
priority in post-conflict situations prior to the establishment of the ICC
in July 2002. From 1974 until today, Rodella (2003, p. 11) noted that
around 30 countries have set up truth commissions to address past human
rights violations. The Chilean Truth Commission, for example, only
addressed those violations that resulted in deaths, and it also chose not
to address the international actors who had supported General Augusto
Pinochet—primarily the Nixon government of the United States (US)
(De Young & Loeb, 1999). By comparison, there have been only four
international tribunals: the Nuremberg Military Tribunal, the Tokyo Mili-
tary Tribunal (both established by the Allies in the aftermath of the
Second World War) and the UN-established civil tribunals: the Inter-
national Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and the International Criminal
Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, where the latter put the former
President Milosevic and his followers on trial (Hayner, 1994).
To the TRCs, the first category of human rights violations (Wilson,
2001, p. 34) is defined as the killing, abduction, torture or severe ill
treatment of any person. The second category includes any attempt at
conspiracy, incitement, instigation, command or procurement to commit
an act referred to in the first category. However, Wilson further notes
that the South African TRC did not include acts such as detention
without trial, racial segregation of public amenities, forced removals and
the “Bantu Education Act,” all of which were common under apartheid
but were excluded from investigation.
Another critique is that the governments that established TRCs consid-
ered them as part of the political process, and this implies the TRC
approach is necessarily a top-down approach. There are certain deficien-
cies, such as a tendency to prioritize political goals such as national unity
and good relations with former enemies, rather than ethical objectives.
In the case of the South African TRC, Ernest (2004, p. 1) notes that by
intending to safeguard the coexistence of the former apartheid regime and
the new regime, the commission allowed the granting of amnesty to those
who committed crimes against humanity, which under international law
should have been tried and punished. A common fear is that impunity,
which is often a characteristic of repressive regimes, will continue. It is
Another random document with
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The trade in books held a high rank in the commercial world; its
profits corresponded with its mercantile importance; and in the time
of Al-Hakem II. the booksellers in Cordova alone numbered more
than twenty thousand.
The various kinds of textile fabrics manufactured by the Spanish
Arabs embraced every species of stuffs and every style of pattern. In
addition to silk, the fine merino wools of Lusitania and the cotton and
flax for which Andalusia was long famous furnished to the weaver
supplies of raw material unsurpassed in strength and delicacy of
fibre. Silk introduced into Spain by the Moors had for centuries been
known to the inhabitants of Yemen, who had become familiar with it
through their trade with China. Its use was forbidden to men by
Mohammed, in whose time it was a mark of effeminacy; but this
prohibition was constantly and systematically evaded by the artifice
of mingling a few threads of wool or cotton in the web of the fabric.
Essentially an article of luxury, the amount consumed in the
Peninsula indicated the prosperous condition of a society which
could afford to purchase in such quantities a material that in many
countries commanded extravagant prices. As an article of export
none was more in demand or more profitable. The broad and
discerning government of the khalifs, which, in accordance with the
true principles of political economy, promoted every important branch
of commerce, regarded its culture and manufacture with peculiar
favor. It was by an especial provision of the law exempted from
taxation. They encouraged by bounties the planting of mulberry-
trees. In addition to the incredible numbers of these to be
encountered in the valleys of Granada, Valencia, and Almeria, the
city of Jaen, whose climate and situation were remarkably propitious
to the rearing of silk-worms, was the centre of three thousand
hamlets devoted to this lucrative industry. While in Spain silk was a
common material for the apparel of the rich, elsewhere in Europe it
was one of the rarest of commodities and a commercial curiosity. It
formed part of the most precious booty of the Crusaders. Relics were
enclosed in its folds as the most costly of fabrics. It was spread upon
the altars of noble cathedrals. Monarchs were delighted with the
possession of a small piece of a stuff which for generations had filled
the shops and furnished the wardrobes of wealthy citizens of
Granada, Cordova, and Seville.
By the cultivation of a single branch of manufactures in a
particular locality, the subjects of the khalif, profiting by experience,
by the transmission of hereditary talent to successive generations,
by the improvement in mechanical processes which from time to
time spontaneously suggested themselves, attained in many
departments of industry to an almost unprecedented degree of
dexterity. Water-power was used to drive machinery in all the
Andalusian manufacturing centres; in the time of Ferdinand and
Isabella looms were still operated by means of it at Cordova. Nearly
every city was noted for a specialty in whose fabrication it excelled.
The armorers of Seville were famous for their coats of mail and
armor inlaid and embossed with gold. The swords of Toledo were
considered unapproachable for the elegance of their chasing, the
keenness of their edge, and the fineness of their temper. At Almeria
were made articles of gilded and decorated glass, the method of
whose manufacture, carried by the Moors to Italy, is now possessed
in its perfection by the Venetians alone. The superiority of the
woollens of Cuenca and the cottons of Beja was undisputed.
Bocayrente produced a linen fabric of gossamer lightness, which
resembled the meshes of a spider’s web in strength and in delicacy.
The carpets of Murcia had no equals except in Persia. The silken
gauzes and sumptuous caparisons of Granada were sent as
presents to kings. In its Alcaiceria, or Silk Market, were two hundred
shops for the exclusive sale of that staple. It is said that in this
beautiful city edifices built for the transaction of business resembled
palaces in their splendor. Its tapestries and brocades were wonderful
specimens of the weaver’s skill, and their designs were subsequently
used as models by the artisans of Italy and France. There also were
made exquisite enamels and vases of rock-crystal. The Moorish
jewellers of Granada were the most celebrated in Europe. Among
the specimens of their handiwork is mentioned a necklace containing
four hundred pearls, each worth a hundred and fifty dinars. Alicante
enjoyed a monopoly in its mats and baskets of esparto, that tough
African grass, whose employment dates from the occupation of
Iberia by the Carthaginians, and whose manifold uses are so
admirably adapted to the requirements of a tropical climate. The
mills of Saragossa and Murcia, built upon boats moored over the
rapid currents of the Ebro and the Guadalaviar, were renowned for
the excellent character of their flour. The drug-market of Lorca was
universally resorted to by physicians, aware that their reputation
depended on the purity of the medicines they administered and
relying upon the official supervision of the government as a sufficient
guaranty of their excellence. No such organized and co-operative
system for the production of commodities and fabrics had at that
time been adopted by any other nation in the world. The founder’s
art, particularly exemplified in the casting of ponderous pieces of
metal, was practised with a surprising degree of skill. Cordova
contained at least one establishment of this description, where were
made the figures for the decoration of the fountains at Medina-al-
Zahrâ. The usual difficulties attending the even distribution of the
molten metal during the operation of casting seem to have been
entirely overcome in the examples to be met with in the museums of
Europe, and the results appear to have been as complete and
satisfactory as in the perfected processes of the present day.
In every department of scientific labor, in every practical operation
of life demanding a high degree of mechanical skill, the Spanish
Moor exhibited on all occasions a precocious and remarkable
ingenuity. There was no field too extensive, no detail too
insignificant, to be investigated by his enterprising genius. The
marvellous scope of his powers was the greatest factor of his
success. Like the famous English philosopher, he seemed to have
“taken all knowledge to be his province.” His intellectual faculties
grasped and utilized in an instant conceptions that individuals of
other nations would have, and, in fact, often did, cast aside with
contempt. The pioneer of modern progress, the permanent traces he
has left upon civilization, and his salutary customs, adopted by
posterity in defiance of popular odium and traditional prejudice, are
unwilling tributes of national and ecclesiastical hostility to the talents
and greatness of an accomplished people to whom history is
indebted for the sole bright spot on the dark map of mediæval
Europe.
For the commodities of European convenience and Oriental
luxury were bartered innumerable products of Moorish agriculture,
mining enterprise, and manufacturing skill,—the oils, the fruits, the
sugar, the rice, the cotton, of Andalusia and Valencia; cochineal,
which abounded in many parts of the Peninsula; the antimony and
quicksilver of Estremadura; the rubies, amethysts, and pearls of
Alicante and Carthagena; the linens of Salamanca; the woollens of
Segovia; the silks of Granada; the damasks of Almeria; the blades
and armor of Seville and Toledo. The product of the paper-mills of
Xativa, famous throughout the East, was annually exported in large
quantities. Malaga disposed of the most of its exquisite ceramic
manufactures in Syria and Constantinople. From Cordova came the
enamelled leather, long famous from the name of the Ommeyade
capital. The horses of the Hispano-Arab breed were transported in
great numbers even as far as Persia. In the kingdom of Granada a
hundred thousand were regularly maintained for the use of the
crown. Andalusia enjoyed an infamous celebrity as the principal
market for eunuchs in the world. The supply came from France,
Galicia, and Barbary, through the medium of Christian and Hebrew
dealers, by whose instrumentality, also, these unfortunates were
prepared for the humiliating service of the seraglio. Vast multitudes
of other slaves, the produce of foray and conquest, were also
disposed of from time to time; a single expedition of Al-Mansur
conveyed to Cordova nine thousand Christian captives. Thus,
exclusive of other booty, prisoners of war were a source of constant
and enormous revenue to the state.
The natural resources of Sicily and its fortunate position, as the
entrepôt of the Eastern and Western Mediterranean, were the means
of enriching its people beyond that of any territory of equal area
known in any age. The harbors of Palermo and Syracuse were
constantly crowded with shipping. Sicilian merchantmen were to be
encountered in every European port; they brought cargoes of slaves,
ivory, and gold-dust from the coast of Guinea; they traversed the
canal of Suez,—reopened by the Egyptian khalifs,—and, braving the
tempests of the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, penetrated to the
Spice Islands of the far distant East. The intimate relations of the
Moorish princes of Sicily with the khalifs of Cordova and the
Byzantine emperors placed within reach of their merchants every
article of popular research and commercial value. In exchange for
these, they exported the vegetable and mineral productions of the
island,—cotton, hemp, grapes, oranges, sugar, wine, and oil; copper,
lead, iron, and mercury; rock-salt, sal-ammoniac, and vitriol; cattle
and horses; and the shell-fish from which was extracted the Tyrian
purple. The profits of this extensive commerce were naturally
productive of enormous wealth; the warehouses of the Sicilian cities
were crowded with valuable merchandise of every conceivable
description; the houses of the Palermitan merchants rivalled the
palaces of sovereigns; and the people in effeminacy and
voluptuousness, in no respect surpassed by the inhabitants of
ancient Sybaris, were proverbial for their opulence, their refinement,
their extravagance, and their luxury.
It will appear from the foregoing observations that the energy
manifested by the European Moslems in mercantile pursuits was
fully equal to their industrial and literary activity. In neither the ancient
nor the mediæval world did any nation—excepting the Phœnicians—
approach the Spanish and the Sicilian Arabs in craft, in foresight, in
enterprise, in accuracy of judgment, in that singleness of purpose
which is indispensable to success. Their Midas touch turned
everything to gold. They were familiar with Oriental countries at a
period when the very existence of the latter was unknown to Europe
or was considered fabulous. The number of shops for the sale of
merchandise which existed in the great cities indicated the
immensity of the traffic of which they were the centres; of these
Cordova contained more than eighty thousand. The rules which
governed the transactions of commercial intercourse in the markets
of the Peninsula were so simple, convenient, and equitable that they
were subsequently adopted by many other nations. The learned
French writer, Sédillot, is authority for the statement that Europe has
borrowed from the Arabs some of its most important principles of
finance as well as its present code of maritime law.
To the Moslems we owe the adaptation of the magnetic needle to
the purposes of navigation, an invention long erroneously attributed
to the sailors of Amalfi. Its peculiar properties, familiar for ages to the
Chinese, were probably communicated by them to the Arabs.
Originally inserted in a cork and permitted to float on the surface of
water, the Moors were the first to mount it on a pivot, thereby vastly
increasing its utility and accuracy. They were evidently acquainted
with it before the twelfth century, as Arab writers of that epoch allude
without comment to the compass as an instrument perfectly familiar
to the seamen of the Mediterranean. To the Mussulman the magnet
possessed a threefold significance and value. It guided his vessel
across the trackless waters independently of the appearance of the
stars. It indicated unerringly the course of the caravan in the Desert,
constantly menaced by the perils of thirst and of the simoom. And it
enabled the pious worshipper, however distant from the Mosque of
Mecca, to ascertain in an instant the point to which he should direct
his face during the hours of prayer.
The laborious and exhaustive investigations of Reinand, Favé, Le
Bon, and Viardot have demonstrated beyond dispute that the Arabs
were the inventors of gunpowder and artillery. While it was admitted
that these destructive agents were introduced into Europe by the
Moors of Spain, their discovery was long universally ascribed to the
Chinese. As a matter of fact, they were first made use of in Syria and
Egypt, probably as early as the beginning of the thirteenth century.
The primitive lombards of the Sultan of Egypt, which cast great balls
of stone, terrified the army of St. Louis in 1249. Artillery was
employed by the Moors, besieged in Niebla by Alfonso X., in 1257.
According to Ibn-Khaldun, it was used by Abu-Yusuf, Emir of
Morocco, at the siege of Sidjilmesa, in 1273. Ibn-al-Khatib says that
cannon were made in Granada before 1300, and mentions Ibn-al-
Hadj as famous for his skill in their manufacture. After that time they
are frequently mentioned by the Spanish historians of the
Reconquest. Their first appearance in the wars of France was in
1338. The Earls of Salisbury and Derby, who served in the army of
Alfonso XI., before Algeziras, in 1342, carried the knowledge of the
invention to England four years before the battle of Crecy, an epoch
which marks its general adoption in Europe. Considering the
immense military superiority which we should naturally attribute to a
people exclusively acquainted with the formula for the manufacture
of gunpowder and experienced in its application to fire-arms, it is
remarkable that this enormous power was not more profitably utilized
by the Spanish Arabs, who possessed it a century before the
portentous secret became known to the nations of Christendom.
Among the Moslems, the operations of war were rarely carried on
according to a definite plan. Military service was not merely a matter
of patriotism or loyalty, it was a religious duty imposed by his faith
upon every Mussulman, and from which only the infirm and the aged
were exempt. As of old in the Desert, each clan marched under its
hereditary commander. In important campaigns the army was
marshalled in five grand divisions, symbolical of the five cardinal
precepts of Islam, an arrangement by which the valor of the warrior
was strengthened by the stimulus of fanatical zeal. The Koran was
always in sight, either borne like a standard on the point of a lance or
held in the hand of the general, as he directed the manœuvres of the
field. There was no regular attempt at organization. The troops
depended largely on the enemy for subsistence. The cavalry were
generally clad in mail; the infantry were, as a rule, little better than a
half-armed rabble. If repulsed at the first onset, it was almost
impossible to rally a Moslem army.
Among the most remarkable institutions of the Arabs of Spain was
the Ribat, or station on the frontier of the enemy, which formed the
model of the orders of military monks of the Middle Ages. These
establishments were strongly fortified castles, garrisoned by devout
soldiers, who expected the recompense promised by the Koran for
constant service against the infidel. The leisure time of their
occupants was spent in religious exercises. Many pious volunteers
sought glory and holiness in the dangerous life which the exposed
position of these outposts afforded. The latter guarded the passes of
every hostile country; they were found on the borders of Italy,
Languedoc, Castile, Aragon, Portugal. Their rules of discipline, their
vows, and their penances presented a striking analogy to those of
the orders of Santiago, Alcantara, and Calatrava, whose
organization they evidently suggested. Their foundation preceded
those of the Hospital and the Temple by more than two hundred and
fifty years.
The coinage of the Ommeyades of Spain was the purest, the
most artistic in design, the most elegant in execution, which had to
that time been known in Europe. It was composed of the dinar, of
gold, equal to two dollars; the dirhem, of silver, equal to twelve cents;
and various small pieces of copper of fluctuating value.
The balance, whose value to the merchant would not be fully
apparent unless he were deprived of it, is also an invention of the
Arabs. The Moorish unit of linear measure was represented by a
horsehair. Six of these placed together were equal to a grain of
barley; six grains of barley made a finger-breadth; four fingers a
palm; six palms a cubit. Of modern weights in ordinary use, the
grain, represented by a barley-corn, and the carat, adapted from the
seed of the pea, have descended without alteration from the Arabs
to our goldsmiths and jewellers.
The political, religious, and domestic institutions of the Arabs,
which account in a measure for the amazing rapidity of their
progress in Europe as elsewhere, were also largely responsible for
the downfall of their power. Their government, derived from the
patriarchal organization of the Desert and confirmed by the revered
precepts of Islam, placed absolutely unlimited authority in the hands
of the sovereign. The khalif, as the word implies, was the Successor
of the Prophet. Fortune was long eminently propitious to the
Ommeyade dynasty in providing it with a line of kings even more
distinguished in the arts of peace than in the arduous and uncertain
achievements of conquest. But these talents for administration and
war, it is obvious, could not be indefinitely transmitted. With the first
appearance of royal incapacity, the sceptre passed into the hands of
ambitious statesmen, ready to sacrifice the claims of religion and
hereditary descent to considerations of private emolument and
distinction. The epoch included in the reign of Hischem II. is the most
glorious in Moslem annals. But that renown was achieved not by the
Khalif in person, nor even under his direction, but by Al-Mansur, his
Prime Minister, who, although of obscure birth, guided, as did the
Frankish Mayors of the Palace, by his transcendent and unaided
genius the destinies of the empire. The example of his success and
the attempt to bequeath to his son the power which he alone was
able to wield were fatal to the Moslem domination, and contributed
with other causes of equal gravity to its ultimate overthrow.
In the civil and military organization of the government the
patriarchal traditions of the Bedouin were preserved, under
circumstances little suggestive of his origin and highly incongruous
and inexpedient, amidst the results of an advanced civilization. The
authority and office of the sheik were reproduced under other
names, which, even to the ignorant foreigner, did not serve to
disguise their identity. Founded equally upon the legislation of the
Koran, the administrations of the Sultans of Bagdad and the Khalifs
of Cordova differed only in the most trifling details. Under both, the
prince was daily accessible to the complaints, and redressed in
person the grievances of his subjects. Under both, the kadi, whose
office was invested with a certain degree of sanctity as well as of
secular power, dispensed justice at the portals of the mosque. His
position was rather sacerdotal than judicial. He was one of the
interpreters of the Koran, the original source of all Moslem
jurisprudence. In his appointment the greatest care was exercised.
Only individuals conspicuous for learning, experience, and integrity
were considered eligible to such a responsible employment. Even
the Khalif obeyed his summons. The Chief Kadi, who had
supervision over all the others, was the most powerful dignitary of
the empire.
The Arabs left no extensive code of laws like that of the Visigoths,
wherein the rights of persons and the penalties of crimes are
systematically enumerated and defined. As their government was
presumed to be theocratic, its principles were necessarily
unalterable. Of legislation, in the modern understanding of the term,
they knew nothing. The decrees of the khalifs, based upon the
construction of the Koran and the traditionary opinions of the Prophet
embodied in the Sunnah, formed the entire body of legal principles
and precedents available for the instruction and guidance of
magistrates.
Among the other officials of the administration were the Hajib, or
Prime Minister; the Viziers, who composed the Divan or Council; and
the Katibs, or Secretaries. All of them were mere advisers of the
sovereign, and their authority was, except under extraordinary
circumstances, only nominal.
The most important subordinate office was that of the Mohtesib, or
Supervisor of Markets, who held court at the gate of the mosque. His
emissaries paid frequent visits to all provision merchants and
druggists, prevented the use of false weights and measures, the sale
of damaged food and adulterated medicines, the overcharging and
cheating of purchasers. Their duties also extended to the protection
of beasts of burden from the inhumanity of their drivers, and of
children from cruel punishment by parents and school-masters. They
dispersed street crowds. They prescribed sanitary regulations. The
authority of the Mohtesib was enforced by fines and scourging, and,
like most Arab judicial functionaries, from his decision there was no
appeal.
In the demeanor of the Spanish khalifs there was little of that
haughty reserve which we are accustomed to associate with the
exercise of the imperial dignity. For generations no atmosphere of
exclusion surrounded the monarch. As a rule, he was easy of access
to the meanest of his subjects. With the patriarchal condescension of
his forefathers, he frequently sat in judgment at the gate of his
palace. He delighted in assuming disguises and in visiting by night
the most humble precincts of his capital. He superintended in person
the construction of great public works; in the erection of religious
edifices, it was not unusual for him to labor, for a certain time each
day, with his own hands. His charity, a duty enjoined by the faith of
which he was the national representative, was boundless, and was
greatly abused. In the execution of the laws, his sentence was often
cruel even to ferocity; but an apt quotation or a well-turned couplet
often turned aside the axe of the executioner. A fortunate event—the
birth of an heir, a recovery from illness, the tidings of an important
victory—afforded an occasion for a noble exhibition of gratitude and
mercy, the pardon of criminals, the liberation of Christian captives,
the lavish distribution of alms. The high and generous qualities which
distinguished the princes of the Ommeyade line—qualities confirmed
and developed by a learned education—-prevented the exercise of
those acts of tyranny which often spring from the possession of
unlimited and irresponsible power. But with all their greatness, their
clemency, their generosity, the khalifs were universally hated. The
obsequious submission exacted by their office was highly repugnant
to the native independence of the Arab, whose cherished traditions
required obedience only to the chieftain of his tribe. The doctors of
the law, who regarded all learning inconsistent with the Koran as
heretical or suspicious, had no admiration for a sovereign who
collected great libraries, translated the infidel works of antiquity, and
patronized studies whose results savored of magic and sorcery.
Among the aristocracy the spirit of insubordination, always strong,
was intensified by the vigilance and severity with which it was
suppressed, by the memory of past renown, and by the hope of
future revolution that might open an avenue to the throne. The
incongruous elements composing the masses, held together solely
by fear, incapable of fusion, detesting each other with unquenchable
hatred, yet joining in the universal execration of their rulers, were
ready for any emergency which might afford an opportunity for
bloodshed and rapine. It was the intolerant faquis who were
responsible for the deluge of African barbarians that overwhelmed
the empire. It was the populace which renounced its allegiance to
the government in the hour of national peril. The ambition of rival
nobles established the score of petty kingdoms whose dissensions
and weakness made possible the success of the common enemy.
Nor were the characters of the khalifs always such as inspire
respect. Considerations of political expediency, if not of
unquestioning religious belief, enforced their strict observance of the
ceremonies of public worship. But with this concession to popular
prejudice, the apparent devotional obligations of the Successors of
the Prophet not infrequently terminated. Some, indeed, were men of
eminent piety and zeal. Others, however, were considered of
suspicious orthodoxy. The preferment of Jews and infidels to posts
of high responsibility was looked upon as inconsistent with the
professions of a devout Mussulman. The pursuit of philosophy, the
mysterious studies of the laboratory, the toleration of pantheistic
doctrines, were regarded with equal distrust and disfavor. It was
known that thousands of works in the libraries of the empire treated
of prohibited subjects. It was more than suspected that certain
Commanders of the Faithful were addicted to the habitual use of
wine, and sometimes surpassed the limits of moderation in its
indulgence. There were other Koranic admonitions of even graver
importance flagrantly defied. It is evident, from the unmistakable
allusions of Arab historians, that many of the wisest and most
distinguished princes of Mohammedan Spain were given to the
practice of unspeakable vices of Oriental origin, and that these
crimes against decency were of such frequent occurrence as
scarcely to elicit a passing notice. The greatest tyrants among them
were slaves to the foolish vagaries of women. A single instance will
suffice to show this fond subserviency to feminine caprice.
Romequia, wife of Motamid, Prince of Seville, who was famed for his
learning and wisdom, having one day from her windows seen some
children wading in the mud, expressed a desire to divert herself in
the same manner. Thereupon Motamid caused the floor of the
principal court of the palace to be thickly covered with a paste of
musk, camphor, ambergris, and spices, mixed with rose-water; and
the favorite with her attendants disported themselves for a few hours
in this precious mud, at an expense of tens of thousands of pieces of
gold.
Guarded in his public utterances, sentiments expressed by the
khalif in the privacy of the palace, and which conveyed no exalted
idea of his sincerity as the venerated head of a great religious
system, often reached the outside world. Music, reprobated by the
Koran as an incentive to idleness and vice, was one of the most
popular amusements of the imperial court. The licentious dances of
the East, which had rendered Spain infamous from the days of the
Phœnicians, were daily performed in the presence of aristocratic
assemblies. The palace swarmed with catamites and buffoons.
Astrology and divination, especially condemned by Mohammed as
reminiscences of Paganism and offensive to God, were practised
everywhere, almost without concealment. While these violations of
Moslem law by its representative horrified the devout, it afforded a
pernicious example to the people, ever ready to profit by the foibles
of their superiors. Under the later khalifs, Moorish society in the
Peninsula became frightfully corrupt. The secret contempt for religion
was only accentuated by the apparent regard manifested for its
outward observances. Infidelity was rife among all classes. The
people, from the noble to the beggar, indulged in brutalizing
sensuality. In their excesses they once more demonstrated the truth
of the principle that the highest civilization as well as the most
degraded ignorance are equally unfavorable to the development of
principles of morality; that the hardships endured by races the least
removed from the brute creation and the profligacy engendered by
the splendors of the most polished societies are alike destructive of
the noblest instincts of mankind; or, in the language of the great
Dutch historian, “that a singular analogy exists between the vices of
decadence and the vices of barbarism.” The heartless, cynical, and
debauched atmosphere which enveloped the court of Hischem II.,
and whose evil effects upon the nation the great abilities of Al-
Mansur were not sufficient to redeem, offered no suggestion of the
pious spirit under whose influence the khalifate was founded. The
enormous wealth of the country permitted a display of license and
luxury of which the annals of degenerate Rome alone can furnish a
parallel. The markets were crowded with female slaves collected
from such distant regions as Finland, Ethiopia, Hindustan, and the
Caucasus. Of these the harem of the Khalif absorbed a large
proportion; that of Al-Nassir contained nearly seven thousand. In an
age when intellectual accomplishments were valued almost as highly
as the charms of person and manner, it was no unusual
circumstance for an educated slave to bring four thousand pieces of
gold. The dress of even the ordinary female servitors of the harem
exceeded in richness the attire of wealthy ladies of to-day; that of the
favorites of the prince displayed the prodigal magnificence of the
most opulent and powerful of empires.
In the celebration of public festivals the pomp of the nobles and
merchants—the gorgeous appointments of their households, their
imposing array of slaves and eunuchs, the beauties of their seraglio,
the glittering damascened armor, the silks embroidered with gold, the
sheen of priceless gems—awakened the astonishment of the
stranger and provoked the sullen and impotent anger of the
populace. In the homes of the wealthy, the rarest perfumes—
essences of rose, jasmine, and orange, the incense of musk and
ambergris—diffused through the palatial apartments the odors so
grateful to the senses of the voluptuous Arab. The bath, at once a
religious necessity, a hygienic institution, and an instrument of
luxurious pleasure, vied in the splendor of its equipment and
furniture with the most sumptuous establishments of imperial Rome.
The public baths were used—as they still are in all Moslem countries
—not alone for the purposes of rest and ablution, but for gossip,
entertainment, and intrigue. It was usual for women to pass many
hours within their precincts attended by their slaves, to be regaled
with delicate confections, and to be soothed by the music of itinerant
musicians. The pernicious effects of the presence of evil genii, who,
according to an ancient superstition, were believed to haunt these
localities, were averted by the repetition of pious texts and by the
wearing of amulets. Mohammedan prejudice, not without cause,
regarded the public bath with suspicion as a convenient means of
moral corruption; and those whose circumstances permitted it,
surrounded this institution of personal enjoyment and religious
necessity with the privacy of domestic life. In the abodes of the rich it
was invested with all the splendor which the command of unlimited
means could provide. The tessellated floor was composed of the
rarest marbles. The walls were encrusted with mosaic. Through
curiously wrought windows of colored glass the tempered light broke
into a thousand variegated hues. The pipes were of massy silver, the
vessels not infrequently of gold. In the outer apartments the floors
were covered with silken carpets, and tapers, from which emanated
the most exquisite and costly perfumes, burned slowly in glittering
lustres of rock-crystal and alabaster. The luxury of the Moslem
culminated in the bath. The latter, borrowed from the Romans, was
invested with a magnificence unknown even to the sumptuous
thermæ of the Cæsars. The ancients, with all their civilization, were
unacquainted with soap, which is an invention of the Arabs. An
indispensable appendage to the worship of Islam, the first building
erected in a city occupied by the Mussulman arms, was one
designed for purposes of public ablution. In some respects it even
took precedence of the mosque, for a Christian church could be
purified and consecrated to religious service, but no corresponding
substitution of the bath was possible among infidels, who regarded
evidences of filthy habits as an infallible criterion of orthodoxy; and
without complete lustration on Fridays no Mohammedan was fit to
enter the temple of God. So important was this duty considered, that
it was not unusual for persons in the humblest walks of life to
sacrifice even their physical wants for the sake of cleanliness and to
spend their last dirhem for soap, preferring rather to endure the
pangs of hunger than to incur the reproach incident to personal
neglect.
With the frequent use of the bath was also introduced the practice
of wearing underclothing, which, often changed, is so conducive to
physical purity. The domestication of the cotton plant in the
Peninsula, which cheapened the soft and delicate fabrics woven
from its fibre, promoted the adoption of this custom even among
Christians; and the name of the now indispensable undergarment
worn next the skin by both sexes in every civilized country has
passed almost unaltered into the principal languages of Europe. In
most of its details the dress of the Spanish Arabs was borrowed from
the Orient. Their flowing robes were generally white, the peculiar
color of the reigning family, as well as that best adapted to the
temperature of a southern climate. The turban was considered the
appropriate badge of the learned professions, whose members
would have regarded its assumption by persons of another calling as
an unpardonable breach of privilege. Individuals of the middle class
wore caps of green or red; in later times the Jews, as a
distinguishing mark of their race, were restricted to yellow. The
common people went bareheaded or bound a silken scarf about their
temples, as is still to be seen in many parts of Andalusia. All who
could afford it displayed a profusion of rings, many of them
talismans; there were few, however poor, without a signet of some
description.
The maxims of philosophy, the enjoyment of unequalled
educational privileges, the enlargement of the mental faculties
obtained by travel, were alike unable to divest the Spanish Arabs of
puerile superstitions. The tenacity with which human nature clings to
these legacies of ignorance was well understood by Mohammed,
who incorporated many of them into his religion. The ordinary Moor
of the epoch of Al-Hakem II. was as sincere a believer in the
importance of dreams, in the significance of omens, in the occult
virtues of amulets, as the Bedouin who roamed over the Desert five
hundred years before the Hegira. Even the most wise and
philosophical of the khalifs entertained diviners and astrologers. It
will require but an instant’s reflection to recall to the mind of the
reader events in his own experience which demonstrate the
ineradicable character of similar superstitions, a weakness incident
to humanity from which no race, age, or civilization seems to be
entirely free. There were many kinds of magic and enchantment for
the counteraction of whose effects various ceremonies were
prescribed. The most dreaded of these was the evil-eye, a belief in
whose influence, for centuries prevalent among Orientals, was
recognized by Mohammed himself. Of sovereign efficacy in averting
its consequences were the ejaculation of well-known texts and the
possession of certain talismans. The hand, which represented
symbolically the five cardinal principles of Islam, was one of the most
popular forms of the latter. Long before the invasion of Tarik, it had
been the most generally adopted emblem for protection against
malign influence used in the Moslem world. It was probably of Pagan
origin, like many of the ancient symbols of Islam. The Romans may
have received it from the Arabs, for it appears in the centre of a
laurel wreath on an imperial standard upon the column of Trajan.
Kings sculptured it on the keystones of their palaces. Peasants
painted it over the doorways of their hovels. It was one of the
devices of the khalifs. Carved in jet, carnelian, or agate, it was prized
by women more highly than the costliest gem. At the time of the
Conquest of Granada it was so frequently worn that the suppression
of its use claimed the attention of the ecclesiastical authorities, and
severe penalties were denounced against all in whose possession it
was found. In defiance of these obstacles, however, the custom
survived, and the talismanic hand—along with the crucifix, the Agnus
Dei, the rosary, and other accessories of Christian superstition—is
still to be met with among the mountain peasantry of Spain.
The fertile mind of the Arab, whose early existence had been
passed amidst the impressive solitude of the Desert, delighted to
people with imaginary beings the limitless domain of the invisible
world. The learned society of Cordova was far from renouncing a
belief sanctioned by the religion of the state and entertained for
centuries by the aristocracy of Arabia. The mysteries of demonology
exerted an uncontrollable fascination over the multitude. An infinite
gradation of power and malignity characterized the vast array of
spirits, from the hideous ghoul that haunted the charnel-house and
the cemetery to the majestic genii that stood in the presence of the
celestial throne, whose armor blazing with light and jewels recalls the
panoply of Milton’s angels; whose gigantic forms assumed at will the
shapes of seraphs or pillars of vapor; and whose martial hosts,
invested with a strange reality, appeared to the excitable Arab an
army of sentient beings rather than the gorgeous phantoms of an
enchanted vision.
The civil organization of the Spanish Khalifate was one of the
prodigies of the age. Order was enforced by regulations whose
effects were experienced equally in the capital and in the extreme
frontier outpost of the empire. Justice was administered quickly,
wisely, impartially. Taxes were regularly apportioned, and the laborer
was always sure of the enjoyment of the product of his toil. By
means of watch-towers and beacons, information could be
transmitted over great distances in a short time. In a few hours the
approach of an enemy was known throughout all Andalusia. As early
as the reign of Abd-al-Rahman II. an extensive system of posts was
established. The stations, where relays of swift horses were kept for
the service of the government, were each under charge of an officer
whose duty it was to correspond directly with the khalif, and to inform
him of all that transpired in the vicinity which might come to his
knowledge. Where more rapid communication was necessary,
carrier-pigeons were employed for the transmission of important
despatches, a custom introduced from Sicily. Six hundred years after
this there was no postal system in any country of Europe. The
highways were protected by barracks, from which patrols were
regularly detailed to watch over the safety of travellers and to keep
order in the surrounding country. All officials, without exception, were
directly responsible to the sovereign, and held their places during his
pleasure. An army of spies in every foreign court and in the council
and household of every provincial governor kept the court informed
not only of matters which affected the policy of great kingdoms, but
of the most trivial circumstances growing out of the intercourse of
daily life. When a new province was conquered, it was the first duty
of the imperial secretaries to prepare schedules of its agricultural
and mineral resources, its commerce, its wealth, and its population.
The character of the Mussulmans of Spain was defiled by all the
vices which follow in the train of prodigal luxury and boundless
wealth. Among these drunkenness was one of the most common.
Personages of the highest rank were not ashamed to appear in
public while intoxicated. Wine was often served at the royal table. Al-
Mansur indulged in its use habitually. His son, Abd-al-Rahman, was
a confirmed drunkard. Once when the muezzin announced the hour
of prayer, this young reprobate exclaimed, “Were he to say ‘Come to
drink!’ it would sound much better.” Many of the rulers of the Moorish
principalities were notorious for their excesses. Some Moslems
drank white wine, as they declared that the prohibition of the Prophet
only applied to red. Hypocrites used vessels of metal for their
libations, so that their shortcomings might not be detected by their
neighbors.
In Arabian Spain, which inherited many of the diabolical arts of
Asia, poisoning was a most popular mode of revenge. Deadly
substances were conveyed or administered to the victim by methods
against which no precautions could avail,—in robes of honor, in
golden caskets, in suits of armor, in perfumed gloves, in flowers, in
delicious sweetmeats. They were often enclosed under the jewels of
rings for use in sudden emergency. The barbarous practice of using
poisoned weapons long prevailed. The mountaineers of Granada
during the Conquest dipped their arrow-heads in aconite and
hellebore, and the wounds which they inflicted generally ended in
torture the life of the stricken enemy.
The people of the different cities of Andalusia had each their
peculiarities, few of which elicited complimentary notices from
strangers. The inhabitants of Cordova were famous for their
lawlessness and their hypocrisy, their pomp and their epicureanism;
in those of Seville voluptuousness, indolence, and frivolity were
predominant traits; those of Granada were proverbial for
vindictiveness and turbulence; those of Xeres for politeness and
elegance of manners. National degeneracy early indicated the
approaching and inevitable dissolution of the empire. The posterity of
the conquerors, who in three years had marched from Gibraltar to
the centre of France, became in the course of a few generations
cowardly, effeminate, corrupt. The geographer Ibn-Haukal, who
visited Spain in the tenth century, described the people of the
Peninsula as feeble in body and light and vacillating in character.
Ibn-Said, who wrote in the eleventh, expresses surprise that the
Castilians had not long before expelled them from the land. Even in
an age of decadence, however, the influence of former traditions was
not easily obliterated. Despite revolution, conflagration, and African
barbarity, Cordova in the twelfth century was still the intellectual
centre of Spain. The difference between the two great cities of
Andalusia was from the beginning indicated by the fact that when a
scholar died his books were sent to Cordova to be sold; but the
instruments of a musician were always disposed of to the best
advantage at Seville.
With the Spanish Moors a plurality of names was considered an
indication of social importance, an opinion which has been
transmitted to the Spaniards. The beard, also, from remote antiquity
regarded as a sign of dignity and wisdom among Orientals and often
reaching to the girdle, was, according to universal custom among
learned Moslems of the Peninsula, restricted in length to a palm.
Only the faquis and the doctors of the law wore long hair. No one
except slaves was shaven. To seize a person by the beard was an
unpardonable outrage, and even to touch a woman’s hair was an
insult which might have cost the offender his life at the hands of the
mob. The khalifs and all personages of rank dyed their beards red
with henna to distinguish themselves from the Christians and the
Jews, who were never permitted to use it.
No characteristic of the Arabs of Spain was more marked than
their passionate love of jewels and perfumes. According to their
belief and traditions every precious stone had its peculiar virtue. The
emerald banished evil spirits; the ruby possessed the property of
magnifying objects; the turquoise afforded immunity from misfortune.
The cat’s-eye was supposed to render the wearer invisible.
Mohammed had declared that the carnelian conferred happiness
upon its possessor. The sapphire banished melancholy. The
diamond was beneficial in insanity; the opal cured sore eyes; the
red-bezoar was a safeguard against poison. The talismanic qualities
presumed to be inherent in many gems were partly attributed to the
astral influence supposed to affect inanimate objects as well as living
organisms, and partly ascribed to the Divine Essence believed to
pervade all matter. To be efficacious, it was indispensable that the
cutting or engraving of a stone should be done while certain
constellations were in the ascendant. The Moorish lapidaries were
experts in their art. With the aid of the bow, copper wheels, and
emery, they produced work little inferior to that of the most skilful
diamond-cutter of to-day. Even in the seal, an indispensable mark of
consequence with the Moslem, the shape had ordinarily an important
significance. Those of the khalifs were usually round or polygonal;
those of diplomatists square; those of financiers oval.
Love of flowers was a veritable passion among the Spanish
Moslems. As they were the greatest botanists in the world, so no
other nation approached them in the perfection of their floriculture
and the ardor with which they pursued it. The profusion and variety
of blossoms of every description were marvellous and enchanting;
each had a meaning, by whose aid tender sentiments could be
conveyed without the instrumentality of speech; they were
associated with every public ceremony and with the most prosaic
occurrences of domestic life; they dispensed their fragrance from the
priceless vase of the palace; they covered the cottage of the laborer;
they formed the daily decoration of the luxuriant tresses of the
princess and the peasant; their garlands were the common
playthings of the infant; on the marble column which marked the
sepulchre of a virgin was sculptured a single rose.
The social life of the Moors of Spain and Sicily presents us with a
picture at once lively, sensual, intellectual,—where the highest
physical enjoyment, divested of every feature of coarseness, was
varied by the constant exhibition of wit and learning. To a
considerable extent,—yet far less than at the present day in
Mohammedan lands,—it was, as a necessary result of their domestic

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