José Ramos-Horta – Published in The Saturday Paper, October 19 – 25, 2024

Language is a truly fascinating phenomenon – it is fluid and constantly evolving. We are barely aware that, as we are shaping its evolution, language is shaping us – individually and collectively. This is what makes it such a potent political tool.

Language can be a tool of liberation and empowerment. It can also be a tool of suppression and control.

The political curation of language – repetition of words, the stripping of their nuance, sharpening or distorting of their definition and even their complete erasure – can influence a national psyche just as effectively as weapons.

With just a few keystrokes, governments, corporations and the media can dramatically shift public sentiment against democratic participants: a “protester” becomes an “extremist”, an “independent critic” an “activist”, a “refugee” an “illegal”.

These powerful actors can similarly edit the national lexicon to influence public understanding of their own actions. I have seen firsthand how inequality and extreme wealth has been described as a manifestation of “freedom”. How authoritarianism has been rebranded as “social cohesion”.

In some places, human rights violations, surveillance, political machismo and oppression no longer exist. To be clear, the actions are still very much there, they have just been rendered as nameless, necessary components of maintaining social order and, of course, “security”.

This term, “security”, has been a pervasive and recurring presence in my life for the past 50 or so years, and my observation is that its political manipulation has profoundly influenced human interactions, attitudes and collective psychology.

A noun once synonymous with peace, safety and harmony is now implicitly threatening. It accommodates the traditional discourse of war and conflict without the need to refer directly to them. “Security” has been militarised and mobilised, somehow more verb than noun. “Security” is something that can be inflicted on people in various ways: posturing, intimidation, withholding support, diplomatic silence or physical acts of hostility.

All manner of domestic and international transgressions are now seemingly acts of “security”.

We are told these acts are necessary to deal with the ever-present threats lurking at the fringes of our lives – even if we can’t see them – because those at the top are privy to information and intelligence that we are not.

We have been led to believe “security”, as it pertains to national and international frameworks, is something deeply technical that only the institutional elite understand and have access to. So we are told not to question it.

If we did, we might ask why protesters blocking traffic, or whistleblowers exposing the crimes of government, or any aspect of the People’s Republic of China, are treated as more sinister and urgent threats to global security than the climate change, floods, deadly heat, hunger, poverty, child malnutrition, gender violence and disregard for international law that are occurring every day.

In my roles as an activist, a politician, a scholar in both peace studies and international law, a Nobel Peace laureate and a United Nations special envoy, I have always advocated strenuously for the simplest, most universal and human interpretation of security.

Most of what is being carried out in the name of national, regional or international security are actually textbook expressions of deep-rooted insecurity, motivated by insecurity and designed to maintain insecurity.

If “security” as it is currently practised were accurately renamed to reflect this, it would be far easier to see it for what it is. Not a means to achieve peace or stability within nations or between them, but a tool of subjugation to serve the interests and egos of a small number of powerful actors. To keep citizens perpetually fearful, suspicious and strategically compliant.

But it will never achieve this goal. While subjugation might result in silence or order – vaguely resembling security from a distance – silence and order is only ever temporary.

How much long-term success would a parent have in nurturing their relationship with their child using threats, suspicion and violence? How much long-term success would an employer have running a harmonious workplace using surveillance and coercion? How much long-term success would a spouse have maintaining a secure marriage that has been built on leveraging power?

I am not the first to ponder the evolving definition of security. I want to be clear that, while I am writing in general terms to make a point, there is nothing hypothetical or abstract in my words. I am only tenuously interested in the role of security in political theory. Of far greater interest to me is the very real impact the interpretation and transmission of this word by political actors has on the lives of people, including those in Australia and my people in Timor-Leste.

I have been instrumental in building a democracy – not just from the ground up but painstakingly and precariously from scorched earth. Security is something that must come from within. Whether in the context of an individual or a nation-state, to be at peace with others we must be at peace with ourselves.

When people are genuinely secure in their identity, when they are emotionally and physically secure, they maintain their independence while cultivating a generosity of spirit. The welfare of others does not threaten their own. The opposite is true: when others are similarly nourished and secure, what manifests is collective peace and trust. They thrive together.

Conversely, those who are insecure, who have no sense of self, are jealous and easily threatened. They are fearful, harbour grievances and are prone to lashing out. Insecurity breeds collective distrust, dysfunction and an inability to respect boundaries. I say this as the president of a country still healing from the direct, lived experience of others’ insecurity – including those we called allies.

However, Timor-Leste has made the conscious decision not to perpetuate the cycle of insecurity inflicted upon us. While we are by no means perfect, we are a nation at peace with ourselves, our neighbours and the world.

Timor-Leste is also consciously committed to the concept of real security: collective safety, prosperity and harmony. Years of foreign occupation and the path we forged to independence make us uniquely aware that the most efficient and effective and morally tenable way to achieve real security is by helping each other to flourish.

As United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres has said: “Timor-Leste demonstrated that nothing solid or lasting can be built on the denial of people’s fundamental rights … The world can learn much from Timor-Leste, especially at a time when conflicts are multiplying and geopolitical tensions are worsening.”

While finding its feet as one of the world’s youngest democracies, Timor-Leste has also been mindful of its role as a global citizen, contributing personnel to UN peacekeeping missions since 2011, including in Kosovo, Lebanon, South Sudan and Guinea-Bissau. Timor-Leste established and chairs the g7+, a coalition of 18 fragile and conflict-affected nations from around the world. In 2022, Timor-Leste gave more than $2.2 million in humanitarian aid to Ukraine.

Despite our best efforts, Timor-Leste continues to be under-resourced and underdeveloped and is described as one of the world’s “poorest” countries. We have made tremendous progress on health and education and social development, but we will not fully achieve or contribute meaningfully to real security without real support. It is entirely reasonable to expect the larger, richer countries that have historically built their wealth off colonisation and exploitation of countries like mine to do this, not as reparations or even charity, but out of economic pragmatism.

When Australia looks at Timor-Leste and Pacific Island countries, it should view them as extensions of its own national security interests. The peace and prosperity of Australia is not only dependent on having healthy, secure citizens within its borders but also a stable, peaceful and prosperous region.

Instead, the value governments place on insecurity is reflected in the vast amounts of money they spend on propaganda, conflict, weapons and military posturing. Globally, more money than ever is going to the military, which would appear to confirm that current frameworks of national and international “security”, as defined by the global elite, are better at feeding insecurity than ameliorating it.

In 2023, military spending worldwide reached a record $3.6 trillion – a figure so big it is meaningless to most of us. In the same year, governments globally spent less than a 10th of that amount, $332 billion, on official development assistance (ODA) such as health, education and infrastructure in developing countries.

Australia is Timor-Leste’s most significant development and security partner. Our countries share a long and complex history and Australia contributes significantly to Timor-Leste’s development through ODA and other support. But again, Australia places a far greater value on insecurity than on collective peace and prosperity, despite significant rhetoric suggesting otherwise.

The Australian government claims to be delivering just over $2.1 billion in total ODA to Pacific Islands countries – including Timor-Leste, with about $123 million – in this financial year. This is not insubstantial.

It is best viewed in context, however. In the same year, the Australian government is committing $2.6 billion to its famous nuclear submarines. This is roughly the same amount as Timor-Leste’s total annual public expenditure on all government services. Which is a better investment? The mental and physical health and subsequent loyalty of your allies? Or weapons that I hear will not even belong to your country if they are ever built?

I am told Australia’s development assistance has and will continue to decline under your current budget settings, while funding for defence over this decade will reach $765 billion.

It is simply not possible for our countries to thrive under this model of national or regional “security”. Australia and Timor-Leste are interdependent. For both of us, insecurity will only grow under the current trajectory.

If we cannot change the word “security”, then we must reclaim ownership of its definition. We must question the activities carried out in its name. We must insist on our participation, because it is our security.

To be secure is to thrive. To be safe. To be free. All of us.