population. They were the political prisoners, the poor, the innocent, the guilty. And though we were of many classes, there were moments when we found ourselves joined together as one, brothers, blood brothers. These moments came when one of the Indonesian fighters was sentenced to death. On the morning they were to go to the firing squad, a tremendous wave of sympathetic emotion flowed through us all. As the victim to be was being led to the firing squad, our voices rose as one in the Indonesian National Anthem. And even as the guns sounded, our voices rose over the staccato noise. No one led us. No one told us to sing. We felt the same emotion at the same moment, and in the silence that followed the killing, we were able to meditate and frame our thoughts.