The Ternate incident was not isolated. Universities across Indonesia canceled planned screenings, including at Universitas Islam Negeri Mataram, Universitas Mandalika, and Universitas Mataram in Nusa Tenggara Barat. The coordinated nature of the cancellations suggests either direct pressure from military authorities or institutional fear of confrontation.

Andreas Hugo Pareira, Deputy Chairman of the Defense Committee in the Indonesian Parliament (DPR) from the opposition PDI-P party, sharply criticized the military's actions. "Why must watching art be confronted by the military? Is this a threat to national defense? The military's actions are excessive and represent a silencing of freedom of expression," Pareira told Kompas.

Pareira noted the bitter irony that censorship often backfires. "This kind of forced prohibition actually makes the public more curious to watch the documentary. It's entirely possible that because of its critical value, this film will receive international recognition. It would be embarrassing if it's banned domestically while the international community gives it awards," he observed.

Anis Hidayah, Chair of Indonesia's National Human Rights Commission (Komnas HAM), condemned the shutdown as exceeding military authority. "Artistic expression is one element of freedom of opinion and expression, which is a constitutional right guaranteed in the constitution and human rights law," Anis stated. "Moreover, it was TNI [the military] that disbanded it—they have no legal authority to disband civilian activities like art screenings or public discussions."

Anis characterized the censorship as undermining democratic norms. "I think the disbanding of discussions and screenings of artistic films stains democracy. We must push for safe spaces for the public to express themselves and voice opinions to be fully guaranteed. Don't let there be regression that could threaten our democracy going forward," she warned.

The military's intervention recalls patterns from the Suharto era when the armed forces routinely policed civilian discourse and cultural production. During those authoritarian decades, the military possessed dwifungsi (dual function) authority to intervene in civilian affairs alongside its defense role. Democratic reforms after 1998 were supposed to have confined the military to external defense, leaving internal security and law enforcement to police.

Yet Jani's actions in Ternate suggest the military retains the instinct—if not the formal authority—to suppress civilian speech it deems threatening. The fact that a military officer cited social media complaints as justification for censorship is particularly troubling, effectively granting anonymous online voices veto power over artistic expression and public discourse.

The documentary's subject matter—indigenous land rights and development policy in Papua—touches on one of Indonesia's most sensitive political issues. The government has invested heavily in agricultural megaprojects in Papua as part of its food security strategy and has been notably resistant to criticism of these initiatives. The Merauke Integrated Food and Energy Estate (MIFEE) project, which features prominently in the documentary, has been controversial since its inception, with indigenous communities and environmental groups arguing it destroys forests and displaces traditional owners.

When contacted by Kompas, TNI headquarters spokesman Major General Aulia Dwi Nasrullah declined to comment and referred questions to Army spokesman Brigadier General Donny Pramono, who did not respond. The military's silence on whether the screenings were disbanded under central direction or local initiative leaves open troubling questions about command responsibility.

In Indonesia, as across archipelagic democracies, unity in diversity requires constant negotiation across islands, ethnicities, and beliefs. Yet effective negotiation requires that all voices—including those critical of government policy—can be heard. When the military silences documentarians and journalists documenting the impact of development on indigenous communities, it doesn't eliminate the problems those communities face; it merely drives discontent underground where it can fester unaddressed.

The censorship occurs as President Prabowo, a former general with a controversial human rights record, consolidates power. While Prabowo campaigned on promises of press freedom and democratic governance, his administration's early months have seen concerning signs of authoritarian backsliding. The documentary shutdown suggests that despite Indonesia's democratic institutions, the military retains significant power to restrict speech and that the current government is unwilling or unable to restrain those impulses.

For Indonesia's democracy—the third-largest in the world and often held up as a model of Islamic democracy—the stakes extend beyond one documentary. If critical art can be suppressed by military officers citing vague social media complaints, then the space for public discourse shrinks dangerously. Democratic consolidation requires not just elections but sustained protection of the freedoms that make elections meaningful. On that measure, Indonesia is moving in the wrong direction.