Three decades ago, he was a scrappy campaigner roaming the world’s corridors of power with a dream to win independence for his tiny homeland. Today, at 75, José Ramos-Horta is both the president and a relentless salesman for East Timor.

He asked China’s president, Xi Jinping, to “help us resolve the problem of agriculture, food security and poverty.” He pleaded with Vietnam’s leaders to do the same. He pitched Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed, the ruler of the United Arab Emirates, his dream of building student dormitories.

Mr. Ramos-Horta is under mounting pressure to sustain his nation — Asia’s youngest and one of its poorest. Home to about 1.4 million people, East Timor is one half of an island that lies near the northern tip of Australia; the other half is part of Indonesia. A Portuguese colony for centuries, it emerged as an independent state in 2002 after a brutal occupation by Indonesia. Its roughly $2 billion economy remains heavily reliant on oil and gas revenue, which is evaporating quickly, and more than 40 percent of its people are estimated to live in poverty.

“No country in Southeast Asia or in Africa began as we did, from ashes, from total destruction,” Mr. Ramos-Horta said. But, he added: “In 22 years, we should have resolved child poverty, child malnutrition, mother malnutrition and extreme poverty. So that has been a failure.”

Still, by other measures, East Timor, or Timor-Leste as it is known in Portuguese, is a success. It has strengthened its young democracy, holding competitive elections with multiple transfers of power. It ranks among the highest in Asia for press freedom. Life expectancy is around 70, up from around 64 in 2002. The entire population now has access to electricity.

While politically motivated violence followed independence, including an assassination attempt on Mr. Ramos-Horta in 2008, during his first term as president, the country is stable now.

East Timor is a positive case study for young post-conflict states, said Parker Novak, an Indo-Pacific expert at the Atlantic Council. “They’ve built a fairly resilient democracy. That’s something they’re very proud of, and rightfully so.”

In September, a visit by Pope Francis briefly put East Timor in the global spotlight. About 97 percent of the population identifies as Roman Catholic, a legacy of the Portuguese colonizers and, more recently, the pivotal role the church played in winning independence from Indonesia. Some clergy fought for independence, and bishops and nuns protected people from Indonesian forces.

In Dili, the capital, streets were scrubbed and walls freshly painted to primp for the papal trip. The prime minister, Xanana Gusmão, was out with a broom.

For one of the least visited countries in Asia, it was a major moment. Outside of Dili, the major population center, East Timor still feels like an untouched paradise. Tall, lush mountains are surrounded by wide expanses of azure seas. There are few people on its white sandy beaches.

Francis’ arrival also resurrected memories of a tainted past. Bishop Carlos Ximenes Belo, one of the heroes of the independence movement, was accused in 2022 of having sexually abused children decades ago.

Few Timorese speak up about Bishop Belo, who remains widely revered. Mr. Ramos-Horta, who was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize in 1996 along with Bishop Belo for their work to win independence, said the matter had “already been addressed years ago by the Vatican” and that any restitution had already been made between the church and the victims.

At the grounds of the presidential palace in Dili, members of the public stroll in freely and sit in the lush gardens.

It was all made possible by China.

Beijing gave nearly $7 million to build the palace, which opened in 2009. (The U.S. dollar is the official currency here.) Less than a mile away are the defense and foreign ministries, both also built by China.

Mr. Ramos-Horta recounted how he had asked the Chinese ambassador for help in providing clean water.

“Even before I went to China, Chinese engineers were coming to Timor already, to look at the water sources for irrigation and water supply to communities,” he said. “The Chinese, they deliver very fast.”

This reliance on China has triggered fears about Beijing’s intentions in East Timor, and what it could mean for the United States, which has stepped up its troop presence in the Australian port city of Darwin, just a few hundred miles from East Timor.

“When China looks at investing in another developing country, they do so with one eye, certainly on a viable business, but with the other eye, very much on a longer-term strategic interest,” said Damien Kingsbury, an emeritus professor at Deakin University in Australia.

As Mr. Ramos-Horta took me on a tour of the palace, he dismissed those fears, saying “China is not a threat to the world.”

He said Beijing was reluctant to help more, such as with building a police force, because it was aware of American and Australian sensitivities. He added that East Timor does not borrow money from China, and that the only military security arrangement it has is with Australia.

Mr. Ramos-Horta is fond of sharing anecdotes. One was about bumping into Indonesia’s president, Prabowo Subianto, in Singapore in July. Mr. Prabowo asked after Mr. Ramos-Horta’s younger brother, a close friend of his.

“That’s the level of the friendship we have with Indonesian leaders,” Mr. Ramos-Horta said.

The same Mr. Prabowo who led the feared Kopassus special forces unit that slaughtered hundreds in East Timor during the Indonesian occupation?

The Indonesian military moved in days after the Portuguese left in 1975, after the United States had greenlighted the invasion. They killed, according to some estimates, as many as 200,000 people before allowing a referendum in 1999. Mr. Ramos-Horta lost four siblings.

Still, in recognition of Indonesia honoring the results of the referendum, Mr. Ramos-Horta said he and Mr. Gusmão, the prime minister, decided that they would not allow “ourselves to be hostages of the past.”

“We honor the victims. We bury the dead, but we look forward.”

He recounted how when he and Mr. Gusmão first heard that Mr. Prabowo had been elected, Mr. Gusmão “was very happy” and gave him a thumbs up.

“Those who were here, during the difficult time, they have the greatest emotional connection” to East Timor, Mr. Ramos-Horta said, adding that such people would be more supportive of the country’s stability.

A quarter-century after the Indonesians left, many of East Timor’s independence heroes remain in government. While Mr. Gusmão fought in the jungles, Mr. Ramos-Horta spent decades in exile, lobbying for freedom. He has served as foreign minister, prime minister and is now in his second term as president.

“People feel obligated to them, they liberated the country from a horrendous military occupation,” said Charles Scheiner, a researcher at La’o Hamutuk, a local advocacy group. “Everybody in this country has family who was killed by the Indonesian military, and many of them are survivors of torture and rape.”

But winning sovereignty is different from running a country.

Analysts say that instead of using the revenues from oil and gas to improve decrepit schools and develop fishing and farming industries, officials channeled them into creating an inflated bureaucracy and paying those involved in the post-independence violence big pensions to “buy peace.” The World Bank has warned that East Timor is heading toward a “damaging fiscal cliff” by 2035.

“The underlying premise of the democracy is that it would lead to better policymaking,” said Guteriano Neves, an independent policy analyst based in Dili. “But it has not.”

Mr. Ramos-Horta is counting on developing an offshore gas field, called Greater Sunrise, to bring in much-needed revenue. While coffee remains a major export, Mr. Ramos-Horta speaks effusively of developing East Timor as an air cargo or pharmaceuticals hub. He also hopes to join the Association of Southeast Asian Nations to make regional trade easier.

The odds are long. Negotiations for the Greater Sunrise field are continuing, and it is expected to take at least five years of development before generating any revenue. Tourism remains untapped because of few commercial flights. Internet speeds still crawl.

About 25 minutes away from Dili, in the village of Ulmera, Alda Bisoi Correia, 74, recalled why she voted for independence. She was terrified of pro-Indonesia militias but said it was “our last opportunity” to take a stand. Today, she wonders what it was all for.

“Independence hasn’t made a difference to us,” she said.

Ms. Correia said the government does not supply water. Her family cannot afford a fridge. Her son is a security guard. His adopted daughter, Sandra Correia Lopes, 12, weighs just 12 kilograms, or 26 pounds, and falls sick frequently.

As dusk turned to night, Sandra sat down to dinner. It was a plate of rice and vegetables that her aunt had cooked over firewood. It will be nearly a month before her family can afford to serve meat.

Hitu Carvalho de Jesus contributed reporting.