Since independence in 2002, martial arts have emerged as a nationwide cult. Almost every young person belongs, or at least has loyalties, to a group. With 60 per cent of the nation's 1 million population below the age of 18, there is no shortage of recruits eager for a sense of belonging, not to mention a boost to their street credibility.

Sacred Heart, which originated in Java and arrived in Timor in the early 1980s, boasts 30,000 members; Seti Seti (Seven Seven), a group rooted more in clandestine Timorese magic than karate kicks, claims 11,000 members; Korka, with Catholic leanings, has 20,000. There are other groups named Five Five, Kung Fu Master, Aqui Jaz, Sagrada Familia and more. Even those youngsters who don't belong to a group have a name derived from martial arts culture - Zero Zero.

Until recently, walls all over the rubble-strewn capital were daubed with confrontational martial-arts-themed graffiti. Much of it has been painted over in an effort to quell the gang rivalries blamed for numerous outbreaks of violence in recent years.

The troubles began following a broader national crisis in 2006. Discrimination within the army, based on suggestions that those from western districts - as opposed to those from the east - had failed to pull their weight in the bitter resistance struggle against their former Indonesian occupiers, produced divisions that rapidly engulfed the country.

Thirty-seven people were killed, thousands of houses were destroyed and makeshift camps sprang up all over the capital to house those displaced by the violence.

By late 2006, martial arts groups had been drawn into the violence despite their lack of affiliation to either region. Sacred Heart head Jaime Xavier Lopez was jailed for inciting violence after youths wearing the group's uniform were witnessed destroying a number of homes. In retaliation, rival groups, notably Seti Seti and Korka, banded together against Sacred Heart, which is seen by some as pro-Indonesian. They burned Sacred Heart's headquarters, setting off a spate of tit-for-tat killings.

The violence is played out not with kicks and punches, however, but with machetes, rocks and slingshots, confirming a view held by many Timorese that martial arts is merely a cover for street fighting.

In December 2006, then prime minister Jose Ramos Horta announced that he was considering banning the groups, an idea that was never acted upon. '[They] do not reflect martial arts, these gangs are militias ... it's better to call them as such,' he said.

Sister Guillermina is a nun who runs a camp for displaced families in the grounds of her convent. She has accumulated a large collection of confiscated weapons secreted by youths staying in the camp.

'[Martial arts members] are very skilled in making and using traditional weapons,' she says. 'It is a shame they did not put those skills to better use.'

Many of those same young men now operate as the camp's security. 'They watch the camp and I watch them,' says Sister Guillermina.

For almost a year now, East Timor has enjoyed relative calm. Youngsters are tight-lipped when asked about martial arts membership and unanimously deny any involvement in violence. Leaders, too, tend to be guarded but, when they speak, their tone is one of reconciliation and contemplation of what went wrong.

'There used to be neighbourhood fights between Seti Seti and Sacred Heart - that was normal,' says Sanamia, spokesman for Seti Seti. 'But the crisis was different - there was killing. Now it is much calmer. People have started to recognise that what they did was wrong.

'I have lots of friends, family and neighbours in Sacred Heart,' he adds. 'We are all brothers. We are all Timorese.'

Martial arts leaders now quietly admit that, during the crisis, they lost control of their members, allowing shadowy political forces to manipulate feelings of anger and boredom.

In some instances, gangs of youths were paid to start trouble. In many cases, it was enough to simply stoke the ubiquitous rumour mill through which grass-roots information - and misinformation - is spread.

But the roots of youth discontent go deeper. 'I place this in the context of the post-conflict society,' says Jose Neves, policy officer for the Ministry for Youth and Sport. He cites the bitter struggle for independence as a defining period for many Timorese. 'During the struggle, they focused on freedom and independence but after that they were no longer clear about the main objectives.'

Euphoria quickly turned to disillusionment. Politicians, experienced in guerilla warfare but woefully unequipped for administration, jostled for power and the needs of the young were largely ignored.

Criteria for the few decent jobs available, mostly in the United Nations or non-governmental organisations, were beyond the reach of most young people. What's more, Portuguese, a language few Timorese can speak fluently, was made the official tongue.

For Protasio de Jesus, acting head of Sacred Heart, economic progress is the key to solving the problems of a country with an unemployment rate exceeding 50 per cent. 'There is no work. That is why young people are just sitting round on the street. They need jobs,' he said.

Despite the violence of recent years, some Timorese believe that martial arts can be a positive force.

'Before the crisis, the martial arts story was seen in a positive way,' says Jose Francisco de Sousa, child protection adviser for development agency Plan East Timor. He points out that martial arts members include not only unemployed youths but also police officers, army personnel and even high-ranking politicians and civil servants.

'The martial arts groups have good potential - they have a lot of members and they come from both east and west,' Mr de Sousa said.

As well as espousing national unity, most groups claim to promote a clean-living lifestyle in which drugs are prohibited, women respected and force used only in self-defence.

Many believe the government should help legitimise martial arts as a sport by providing designated venues for training and competition.

Officials, however, fear it may be too early to put rival groups together in the ring. 'It's a bit risky because if you bring them to a competition without any strict rules of play and without security arrangements, what will happen?' asks Mr Neves. 'Chaos again.'

Nevertheless, there is clearly a willingness on the part of the government to promote the positive values of martial arts, as demonstrated by a UN goodwill visit by Hong Kong martial arts star Jackie Chan in June.

'If you use martial arts to help somebody, you're the hero,' said Chan, addressing 5,000 cheering young people at Dili's national stadium. 'If you use martial arts just on the street to fight somebody, even if you win you're not the hero - you're nobody.'

Prime Minister Xanana Gusmao, speaking beside Chan, said he hoped the visit would 'change our mentality and [help us] live a life with martial arts principles'.

But others see it as up to the country's leaders to set an example.

'People have learned that what they did was wrong and now they need to learn what's positive,' says Nuno Soares, a leader of the Korka group. 'In government, there are a lot of people who hate each other and civilians follow the government.

'Are the leaders ready to hug each other? As soon as they are ready for that, Timor will be stable.'