On 7 December 2025, fifty years since Indonesian troops invaded East Timor, survivors and their descendants continue to live with the legacy of occupation, violence and loss – and to insist that remembrance, truth and justice still matter.

Fifty years ago, on December 7, 1975, Indonesian troops stormed into East Timor. What Jakarta called “integration” became one of Southeast Asia’s darkest chapters – a 24-year occupation that left tens of thousands dead and a nation scarred.

The invasion came just days after East Timor’s brief independence declaration by Fretilin on 28 November. Indonesia justified its move as a bulwark against communism, a claim that resonated with Cold War powers. Behind the rhetoric lay strategic ambitions and silence from allies who supplied weapons and diplomatic cover.

The cost was staggering. Villages burned, famine spread, and civilians bore the brunt of military operations. The Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR) later documented torture, sexual violence, and forced displacement. Estimates suggest up to 200,000 lives lost – a third of the population.

For years, the world looked away. Western governments prioritised regional stability over human rights. It took the Santa Cruz massacre in 1991 – when Indonesian troops fired on peaceful demonstrators in Dili – for global attention to turn. Images smuggled out of the cemetery shocked audiences and galvanised solidarity movements from Lisbon to Melbourne.

Survivors’ testimonies reveal the human cost behind the statistics.

“I will never forget this, even if I have passed away,” said Maria, who was sexually violated during interrogation after being captured in 1979. “I hate this… I really, really hate this. Although I have had children, I still keep my revenge and hate inside my heart.”

In Lospalos, Berta dos Santos recalled the day Indonesian paratroopers descended on her village:

“They came down by parachute and started shooting,” she said. At just nine years old, she was raped by soldiers. Her mother was dragged away and forced into sexual slavery. “The army searched for us in the bush, captured us and took us back.”

These voices echo thousands of others recorded in the Chega! Report, which documented systematic killings, starvation, and sexual violence. For many, the trauma remains raw.

“This is the worst thing that has happened to me,” Maria said. “At the time, I did not care about death at all, whatever was going to happen to me could just happen.”

Today, memory is everywhere in Timor-Leste. Murals of martyrs line the streets of Dili. Songs of resistance echo at commemorations. Families still search for missing loved ones. Pain is not just history – it is lived experience, passed down through generations.

Sites of memory, such as the Santa Cruz Cemetery and the Resistance Museum, serve as spaces for mourning and reflection. They remind visitors that independence was not a gift but a hard-won struggle marked by sacrifice.

Independence in 2002 brought freedom, but not closure. Timor-Leste’s political culture is shaped by values forged in struggle: resilience, sacrifice, and solidarity. These principles guide its foreign policy as the country edges closer to ASEAN membership, a milestone that reflects its determination to move from isolation to regional integration.

For Indonesia, acknowledging this past is not a threat – it is a chance to deepen ties through truth and reconciliation. Bilateral relations have improved significantly, with cooperation in trade, education, and security. Yet, for many Timorese, justice remains elusive. Few perpetrators have faced trial, and calls for accountability continue to echo.

Commemorating the invasion’s 50th anniversary is not about reopening wounds. It is about remembering lives lost and ensuring history does not repeat itself. Memory is a moral obligation. It reminds us that sovereignty matters, and that regional stability must be built on justice.

The story of Timor-Leste is also a warning. In an era of geopolitical competition, small nations remain vulnerable. The lessons of 1975 – intervention, complicity, and silence – are as relevant today as they were then.

Fifty years on, the question lingers: what does it mean to remember? For Timor-Leste, it means dignity. For Indonesia, accountability. For Southeast Asia, a lesson – that peace demands truth.