By José Ramos-Horta

I wish to talk about a great hero of Timor-Leste and a great hero of humanity.

Six months since the passing away of Max Stahl, I went to the Santa Cruz cemetery where his temporary tomb is located. I went there one morning, just with my relatives, to lay flowers on the tomb of Max Stahl. Of course, from my own family, many are buried there in the Santa Cruz cemetery. Our mother is buried in the Garden of Heroes in Metinaro. Being there I felt like I do today: we can feel the presence of Max Stahl. You can be there next to his tomb, where Max’s ashes are buried, protected, are sheltered. I cannot but feel profound sadness for his untimely death.

Way back, Max Stahl led an extraordinary initiative with courage and came to Timor-Leste as a journalist – not only once, but several times, using all kinds of gimmicks to be able to come and travel extensively in the country. The son of a British diplomat, Max grew up some years in El Salvador witnessing the violence orchestrated and unleashed by the military against civilians. Max grew up motivated by the desire to expose dictatorships, to denounce violence and human rights abuses, and to fight for the basic rights of human beings to be free from arbitrary arrest and killings, to be able to live in freedom and dignity, wherever they chose to be.

Max Stahl came to Timor-Leste partly for the Santa Cruz demonstration in November 1991, but also to cover the whole saga of Timor-Leste. He was here when he witnessed a procession – part procession, part public political expression of youth anger. Protesters marched from the Motael church to the Santa Cruz cemetery, where the whole tragedy unfolded, right in front of his eyes – and his camera. A few other journalists were present like Amy Goodman, Allan Nairn, Saskia Kouwenberg and others, all witnessing this tragedy. Max, with extraordinary courage, kept filming from inside the cemetery as Indonesian soldiers shot at young Timorese. And then he buried there one of the films, because he knew the military would try to confiscate it. Later on in the evening, he returned to the cemetery to dig it out, to rescue the video. The video was then sent out to be widely broadcasted thanks to Saskia’s care.

Then the awakening of the world about the Timor-Leste saga began. That critical change was an extraordinary contribution we owe to Max Stahl because many other tragedies were never documented in such a graphic way. Roger East was brutally murdered in Dili in December 1975 along many hundreds of Timorese. The wife of our leader Nicolau Lobato was also murdered at that time. And let us not forget the five newsmen who were killed in Balibó on 16 October 1975. But there were no films, no witnesses at those killings who were able to share what they saw. The reason why the Balibó five were murdered was precisely to prevent them from exposing the encroaching invasion of Timor-Leste by Indonesian forces.

If Max had not been there, the Santa Cruz massacre would have been one more massacre that happened in Timor-Leste like that of 7 December 1975, or the massacre of Kraras, or the extraordinary brutalities of the attack on Mount Matebian. In this case, many hundreds of people took shelter in the face of aerial bombardment by airplane and helicopters, thousands of people sought protection in the forests. But no images reached the outer world. So: do not underestimate the extraordinary contribution of Max Stahl. After his courageous filming, no one could claim: I did not know.

Over the years, I was in touch with Max constantly, almost on a daily or weekly basis. At one point, for a few months, he stayed in my home. We had breakfast every day. And I loaned him a car, an old TATA Jeep that finally found its death of exhaustion in his home.

Then I saw him being diagnosed with cancer. And I saw him sick. And yet he kept on filming and filming in our hostile heat and dust. He wanted to record the building of our independent state, our democracy, our country, as a continuation of what he did before 1999, including the 1999 violence outburst.

When other journalists left, Max was here in Timor-Leste, and here he decided to remain. He went with our people up to the Dili hills. When independence happened, he wanted to re-record every major or minor development. So, he advocated for us – a lesson of heartbreaking courage, inspiration, generosity, simplicity, humility. He always lived very simply, never wanted honors, never asked for anything, and never complained.

Now Max is gone. A great human being has joined the pantheon of great Timorese leaders and heroes, like Nicolau Lobato and many other unknown, unsung heroes. Max Stahl forever lives in our country, in our history, in our memories, in our lives.