By: Hafid Abbas
Commissioner and the 8th President of Indonesia National Commission of Human Rights (2012-2017)
The name Natalius Pigai has recently become a frequent topic of public conversation. As Indonesia’s Minister of Human Rights, he has appeared on the national stage with a style that is somewhat unusual for a high-ranking government official. He is direct—sometimes sharply so. Yet behind that style lies an important lesson: public officials do not need to distance themselves from the people.
Pigai’s presence in national politics takes me back to a long chain of memories about Papua—dating back to when the region was still called Irian Jaya. My connection with Papua began in 1999, when I was entrusted with the position of Deputy Minister for Human Rights during the presidency of Abdurrahman Wahid.
More than a decade later, that service continued when I served as director general and later as head of an agency following the merger of the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Human Rights, which in 2001 formed the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights. During those years, when we organized Community Policing training for roughly 20,000 police personnel from across Indonesia, Papua became our top priority.
Together with then Minister of Justice and Human Rights Baharuddin Lopa, and accompanied by Papua Police Chief I Made Mangku Pastika, we opened human rights and community policing training programs in Papua. Police officers who had already reached the rank of senior commissioner were also given the opportunity to broaden their human rights perspectives through visits to Scandinavian countries—particularly Norway and Sweden—which supported the program as funding partners.
Why did we prioritize Papua? Because at the time its development lagged behind many other regions of Indonesia. Affirmative policy measures and administrative discretion were necessary so that Papua could move forward more quickly—advancing with dignity and equality within the framework of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia.
These experiences lead me to see Pigai not merely as a public official, but as a symbol of Papua’s long and complex journey within Indonesia.
First, Pigai is a public official who does not place social barriers between himself and society. He does not build rigid walls of formality. His social media comment sections remain open. Criticism flows freely, and he faces it directly. Praise also arrives, and he responds to it in the same manner. He neither appears overly flattered by praise nor shaken by criticism.
Amid the noise of social media—including his open exchange with Gadjah Mada University law professor Zainal Arifin Mochtar—Pigai has demonstrated something rarely seen: a cabinet minister engaging directly in public conversation without layers of protocol.
The debate began with his statement that his understanding of human rights had been shaped since childhood. The responses soon developed into a broader public discourse. What is striking, however, is not merely the content of the debate but his attitude toward it. He did not close the comment section. He did not block critics. He allowed the public to speak—even when some remarks crossed ethical boundaries and took on racist tones.
In that moment we see the resilience of someone shaped by life experience. Pigai has spoken about his childhood growing up in an environment familiar with conflict—living amid the sound of gunfire and the thin boundary between life and death. Such experiences shaped his understanding of humanity. For Pigai, human rights are not simply a set of normative texts but a lived moral experience. He resembles a rock in the open sea— battered by waves and storms yet standing firm.
Second, Pigai displays a striking harmony between what he thinks, feels and says. He speaks without excessive image management. His words are straightforward—sometimes blunt—but authentic. In the upper strata of political office, such harmony is rare. Many officials rely on carefully measured language to maintain a polished image. Pigai instead offers a communication style that feels more fluid and egalitarian.
Mahatma Gandhi once spoke of the importance of consistency between thought, word, and action as a path toward happiness and integrity: “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony,” a reminder that genuine fulfillment arises when one’s inner convictions, spoken principles, and daily conduct align without contradiction.
There is an important lesson here for our democracy. A healthy democratic system requires public officials who are not allergic to criticism and who do not restrict the space for dialogue. The contest of ideas is part of democratic life. Differences of opinion are inevitable. But human dignity must remain the guiding principle.
Pigai has repeatedly shown that debate does not need to become personal. In the end, he even referred to his debate partner as a “Friend of Human Rights.” That gesture reflects a certain maturity: firmness in argument combined with openness in human relations.
Third—and perhaps most important—Pigai’s presence symbolizes Papua’s participation in the national arena. Papua remains one of Indonesia’s great unfinished agendas: uneven development, educational challenges, limited access to healthcare and other structural issues.
Yet Papua is also a source of moral, cultural and spiritual wealth for Indonesia.
Seeing Pigai within the broader context of Indonesia’s national life requires us to recognize that every individual and every region carries both strengths and limitations. There is no greatness without imperfections. There is no leadership without human vulnerability. Indeed, the greatness of a nation is measured by its ability to manage differences and transform them into shared strength.
In this context, I am reminded of a piece of Bugis wisdom concerning leadership ethics:
“Matanre tenticongari; Mapance tenricukuki; Battua tenmalinrungi; Baeccu tenrilinrungi.”
The message is simple yet profound: when you are in a high position, do not feel superior; when you are in a low position, do not feel humiliated. When you are big, do not block the small; when you are small, do not be obstructed by the big.
This wisdom teaches balance, humility and mutual respect. In many ways we can see reflections of those values in Pigai—and in Papua’s long struggle to stand as an equal partner within Indonesia.
Officials like Pigai may not always make everyone comfortable. His communication style can spark debate. His remarks may invite differing interpretations. Yet democracy is indeed a living arena—it breathes through dialogue, criticism and the exchange of ideas.
What we must protect is its substance: the courage to open channels of communication, the willingness to face criticism and the commitment to human dignity.
Indonesia needs public officials who do not distance themselves from the people. At the same time, Indonesia also needs citizens capable of debating without racism or personal hostility. Competing narratives are part of democracy, but human dignity must remain sacred.
In time, the public will judge with greater clarity. History, meanwhile, will record not only who spoke the loudest but who remained most consistent in upholding fundamental values.
From behind the mountains and valleys of eastern Indonesia comes an important reminder: the greatness of Indonesia is not built on perfection but on the courage to fully embrace Papua and other regions that have long lagged behind—recognizing their dignity, accelerating their progress and placing them firmly within the shared home called Indonesia.
In the end, the rise of voices from eastern Indonesia reminds us that light also emerges from the nation’s eastern horizon. The greatness of a nation is not measured by how loudly it speaks, but by how sincerely it embraces those who have long stood at its margins. When Papua feels respected, Indonesia is not merely accommodating its periphery—it is, in truth, expanding the very meaning of greatness itself. As Nelson
Mandela once reminded the world, “To deny people their human rights is to challenge their very humanity.”
