The new state struggles with many problems, not least the skills shortageat government level, writes William Hederman
It's hard to look at East Timor's government building in the midday sun. The former Portuguese governor's palace has been painted a dazzling white for the first anniversary of independence today. Out front, beside a neat row of white UN vehicles, soldiers in one-year-old uniforms practise the ceremonial raising and lowering of East Timor's flag.
But turn and walk 100 metres in any direction and you see the burnt-out shells of buildings destroyed by Indonesian-sponsored militias following the September 1999 referendum vote for independence.
The capital is littered with the debris of the country's painful history. On the beach nearby lie the rusting remains of Indonesian landing craft that brought ashore the invading troops in December 1975, beginning a brutal 24-year occupation.
And what of the present? Small children and pregnant women are ubiquitous: the end of Indonesian rule prompted a baby boom. Under-15s now account for half the population of 800,000 and there aren't enough teachers to educate them.
More striking, and worrying, are the groups of young men hanging around on street corners, indicating high unemployment which is almost 45 per cent among 15- to 24-year-olds. Other daunting statistics inform that 15 per cent of children die before reaching their fifth birthday and that 70 per cent of over-30s have never attended school.
So how is East Timor's first democratically elected government dealing with all this? Not very well, according to just about anybody you ask. Certainly the euphoria and optimism of last May have given way to disillusionment and frustration. "The government does not try to understand our needs," is a common charge.
A government consultant, who asked not to be named, attempts to explain part of the problem: "Our political leaders spent years fighting the Indonesians.
"They don't know about development. Resistance is all they know. When we were finally free, they were confused. None of them has run a country before." On December 4th last, frustration turned to violence when rioters burned down the house of the Prime Minister, Mr Mari Alkatiri. Some predict that high unemployment and rising gang activity could lead to more riots, possibly even on independence day.
"One year on, the government have realised they didn't do enough a year ago to tone down the huge expectations," says António Sampaio, a Dili-based journalist. "The people thought prosperity would arrive one day after independence." As is often the case in post-conflict situations, the government is dominated by diaspora - prior to 1999, most of the cabinet had not set foot here since the end of "Portuguese time" in 1975.
While the President, former resistance leader "Xanana" Gusmão, is still hugely popular and carries great moral authority, the cabinet, which does not include him, is regarded by many younger people as a Portuguese elite. For example, the designation of Portuguese as an official language is very unpopular: those educated under the Indonesians cannot speak it.
One of the legacies of authoritarian Indonesian rule is that the lack of governing experience extends all the way down through the civil service, as Timorese were rarely given important jobs. "There are very, very few skilled Timorese in government," explains Sampaio. "There is virtually no middle-management." The greater part of this skills gap is still being filled by the international community. The two-year transitional administration, UNTAET (the first time the UN has run a country) handed over to the current government in an emotional ceremony last May, but there are still plenty of acronyms whizzing past on the side of four-wheel-drives, including a sizeable UN mission (UNMISET) and peacekeeping force (PKF), several UN agencies and about 80 international NGOs.
As the remaining UN staff pulls out over the coming months, the effects will not be political only, but also economic, as their presence has created a "bubble economy" that will deflate rapidly.
East Timor's indigenous economy is almost non-existent; the infrastructure was largely destroyed in 1999; there is no foreign investment and no private sector; the small coffee industry is in decline and tourism has yet to take off.
On the other hand, it has inherited no national debt. A generous three-year international aid package (including €11 million from Ireland) will cover the budget until 2006, by which time revenue from oil and gas under the Timor Sea will kick in - $3 billion worth over 20 years.
When Indonesia annexed East Timor in 1975, Australia was the only country that supported the annexation. One of the arguments they made at the time was that East Timor would not be viable as an independent state.
So will the Timorese disprove that prediction? It's a tough challenge. If the oil revenue is used wisely, East Timor will enjoy something most developing countries can only dream of: economic independence - in other words freedom from debt and from the associated World Bank interference.
But the biggest test may be a psychological one. With thousands of refugees in West Timor and Australia, Indonesian war crimes unpunished, villages being asked, in the name of reconciliation, to accept the return of militias that terrorised them in 1999, the question now is whether the young nation can stay on its feet under the weight of emotional trauma piled on over a quarter of a century. Hopefully the spirit of courage and determination that maintained the resistance movement's long struggle will see them through.