P 2

RECTIFYING THE HISTORY OF RMS: MALUKU IN THE SHADOW OF OLD COLONIALISM AND THE NEW CENTRALISM

The state often portrays them simply as a group of Dutch loyalists who left Indonesia.

But if we look deeper, we see that this migration had an enormous socio-political impact on Maluku.
Among those who were transferred were not only ordinary soldiers. Many of them were highly educated individuals, military personnel, administrative staff, and members of local elite circles.
In other words, Maluku lost the majority of its organizational capacity and personnel in a short period of time.

The Dutch themselves did not truly look after the well-being of the Moluccans. They were brought to a foreign land with temporary promises, but ultimately ended up in social exclusion camps for decades. They became a community trapped between two identities: not fully accepted as part of the Netherlands, but at the same time losing their full connection to the land of Maluku. Meanwhile, this mass migration weakened local social structures within Maluku themselves. Leadership bases, military networks, and administrative capacity were ripped from their own communities.

On the other hand, the situation proved easier for Indonesia to manage. The potential resistance of the Maluku diminished drastically. Militarily and politically, the central government succeeded in stabilizing the situation.

The price paid for this, however, was a historical trauma that was passed down from generation to generation. To this day, some Maluku still regard the incident as a form of systematic weakening of the Maluku, although the government undoubtedly has its own arguments regarding national security.

The official state narrative often simplifies the RMS to an Ambonese Christian movement. However, history shows that the RMS was initially not based entirely on religion. The inner circle of the RMS included figures from the Moluccan Muslim community, such as Duba Latuconsina, Ohorella, and various other individuals who are rarely mentioned in official historiography. This fact is important because it demonstrates that the conflict within the RMS initially had more to do with political issues, regional identity, and fear of a centralized power than with a religious conflict.

However, over time, particularly after the Maluku diaspora in the Netherlands and the conflict in Ambon in 1999, the identity of the RMS was gradually reduced to a symbol of a specific religious group. The state benefited from this simplification, as the public viewed the RMS more easily as a sectarian threat than to understand the historical roots of political and economic injustice that underpinned it.

Today, the face of colonialism no longer manifests itself in the form of VOC ships or Dutch soldiers. It appears in the form of large corporations, investments in mining, and development policies that often ignore local communities. In North Maluku, nickel mining is the most striking example.​
The country touts downstreaming as the path to the future of the global electric car industry.
But behind these trillions of rupiah in investments, local communities are grappling with marine pollution, deforestation, land conflicts, and the loss of traditional habitats.

The center of power once again views East Indonesia primarily as a region for resource extraction.
Roads are being built for industrial purposes. Ports are being expanded to meet export needs. Energy and other policies are aimed at ensuring the smooth functioning of global supply chains. But the local population is often merely a spectator in their own country. They see how natural resources are being depleted on a massive scale, while their quality of life improves only very slowly.

This is what has led many people in Maluku to question the relationship between the central government and the regions. Nationalism should not only entail regional obligations of loyalty to the state.

​Nationalism should also mean a fair distribution of wealth, respect for local identities, and the right of communities to determine the direction of development in their own area. 

If the state continues to pursue a development model that positions the eastern region exclusively as a
source of raw materials, this sense of political alienation will persist.

Rightening the history of the RMS does not mean that war, violence, or separatism must be justified. However, a healthy nation is one that dares to read its history honestly. The state must acknowledge the legacy of colonial wounds in Maluku. It must also be acknowledged that decades of a centralized approach have created significant inequality. As long as this acknowledgment does not take place, the history of the RMS will live on as a wound passed down from generation to generation.

Maluku needs no pity. It needs justice. This land has given the republic so much for so long: spices, seas, soldiers, culture, and natural resources.

All too often, Maluku is only called upon when the country needs something, not when the population needs justice and development.

It is time that the history of Maluku is written not only from the perspective of the central power center, but from the voices of the people who have lived on the periphery of the republic. Honest historiography dares to acknowledge that colonialism does not always originate from foreign powers. Sometimes it stems from the way a country treats its own region. #