After the first round, political commentators did a simplistic analysis of the elections and how I “lost.” They missed the point.
A little over a decade ago, our small island was still occupied by the Indonesian military. Hundreds of thousands of our citizens perished under the occupation, either by execution, lack of the most basic medical care or starvation by forced relocations. With a small rag-tag group of dedicated independence fighters, we faced a massive army equipped and trained by the United States. We were a forgotten people.
When we achieved independence in 1999 through a UN-sponsored referendum, our island was devastated by militia backed by the Indonesian military. Eighty-five per cent of our buildings were burned to the ground, and more than 300,000 people were forcibly removed to Indonesia.
In 2006 and 2007, Timor-Leste again exploded into violence, this time in civil conflict. It was the type of upheaval that is not unusual, historically, for a new democracy, but one that caused many to fear that the country was racing toward the edge of a cliff.
I am proud and honoured to have served Timor-Leste, first in exile during the occupation and then as foreign minister, prime minister and president of the world’s youngest democracy. I am proud that during my presidency we achieved, for the first time in more than 35 years, a stable peace, which has allowed for new levels of development.
But having served as prime minister and president, I hesitated to run again for the presidency this year. At the signed request of more than 100,000 Timorese citizens, I did enter the race. I stated, however, that I would not campaign, as I had too much respect for at least two of the 11 other candidates.
During the last weeks of the first round of the campaign, I watched a vibrant democracy at work. The capital city, Dili, plastered with posters of smiling candidates, was loud with parades and rallies.
Naturally there were tensions, and fears spread among people traumatised by past violence. But the violence did not happen.
Last week I invited the two candidates for a heart-to-heart talk and pleaded with them to tone down their language, soften their campaign rhetoric, show tolerance and moderation. They agreed. They even appeared together before the media. Tensions were lowered. The political atmosphere has been much calmer since.
Which of our two candidates will win is the lesser question. The real question is whether Timor-Leste will be able to emerge fully from a past filled with violence and oppression, and whether it will be able to enjoy a peaceful transition of power. In other words, have we learned to take our battles to the polls instead of the streets?
So far the answer is yes. We are halfway through – after the runoff presidential vote, we have parliamentary elections in July. But it appears that our democracy is emerging from the process stronger – still imperfect, but on its feet and functioning.
Timor-Leste is a different country today than it was 10 years ago or even five years ago. Its double-digit growth for four straight years has made it one of the strongest economies in Asia. Unemployment has plummeted, and we are on track for 100-per cent adult literacy by 2015. By the end of 2012 the entire country will have 24-hour electrical power for the first time, and in few years we should have 21st century connectivity.
There are still many challenges ahead. Timor-Leste has not yet conquered problems of corruption and waste. The number of people living in extreme poverty is down, but not far enough.
But back in 1999, Dili was devastated. Today it is rebuilt and buzzing with a new generation of young people on cars and motorbikes, all going to work.
I view the fact that our elections are competitive with a sense of contentment. They are a sign that the country is maturing.
It is my hope that we have sent a message to others emerging from conflict that it can be done.
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