For the Indigenous communities of Indonesian Papua, Awon Atatbon is no routine ceremonial gathering. The ritual, which involves dancing, singing, and other communal performances, is only held every decade or so, and symbolizes these communities’ resilience in protecting their ancestral lands. The central focus of Awon Atatbon is the pesta babi (pig feast), the traditional cooking of specially-hunted pigs, which are then shared among members of the community and any visitors who may be in attendance. These feasts, and the sufferings and injustices that prompted such ceremonies among Indigenous Papuans, form the symbolic core of Dandhy Laksono and Cypri Dale’s acclaimed (and controversial) documentary, “Pig Feast: Colonialism in our time,” which was released in late May.
The 95-minute film illustrates how the Indonesian state, through its National Strategic Project (PSN), has furthered its historical oppression of Indigenous Papuans through massive state-led development projects that prioritized food and energy security for the majority at the expense of local Papuan communities and ecosystems. Through interviews with Indigenous leaders and villagers, as well as everyday footage of massive destruction and loss, Laksono and Dale highlight how the PSN has created what they have described as the world’s largest ongoing deforestation project, protected by Jakarta’s authoritarian military arm. The film also sheds light on the historical impunity enjoyed by the Indonesian state in its quest to pursue profit over the well-being of ethnic minorities in West Papua.
The film situates the PSN in a long history of exploitation by the Indonesian state. West Papua, which consists of the western half of New Guinea and its surrounding islands, came under Indonesian control in 1963, but it took another six uneasy years and a controversial U.N.-administered referendum for the region to be formally incorporated into Indonesia.
Since then, Indigenous Papuans have been routinely subjected to large-scale human rights violations by the Indonesian military and police forces.
The 1969 referendum, for example, was only achieved after many arrests, killings, bombings of Papuan villages, forced disappearances, and intimidation. A similar pattern has persisted since then, with the intensity of Indonesian military operations peaking in 1998, which saw massacres of Indigenous villagers, systematic starvation operations, and widespread rape and public torture across the region. Today, while direct military action has slowed down, police and paramilitary forces continue to abuse Indigenous communities, especially targeting people with activist backgrounds.
Simultaneously, a strategy of “Indonesianization” has taken place in the region, motivated by a racist worldview that Malay Indonesians are better able to make use of Papua’s rich resources than the Melanesian Indigenous Papuans. This strategy has included both the assimilation of Indigenous Papuans into the Indonesian state through the education system and the media and the transmigration to Papua of settlers from other parts of Indonesia.
Indigenous Papuans have not been passive. Hopes for an independent Papuan nation continue to resonate among both ordinary Papuans and the many insurgent groups that have waged a war for Papuan independence since the Indonesian annexation. Unarmed civilians, including local villagers and the employees of Indonesia’s many corporations operating in the region, continue to be casualties of war. It is against this backdrop, in this climate of systemic oppression of Indigenous Papuans and historical tensions, that the events of “Pig Feast” take place.
Throughout “Pig Feast,” the filmmakers engage with the idea that state-led development in West Papua constitutes a form of modern-day colonialism, as evidenced by ongoing modes of accumulation by dispossession. One of the most visible forms of such dispossession is the aforementioned process of widespread deforestation. West Papua is home to one of the largest tropical rainforests in the world. However, this territory is increasingly under threat from the PSN.
The government describes this as part of Indonesia’s drive for self-sufficiency and food security. In reality, the PSN has proceeded without the consent of local Indigenous groups. It aims to convert 2.5 million hectares of Papuan forest into 1.3 million hectares of rice fields, with smaller but still significant areas dedicated to sugarcane production and palm oil plantations. A primary goal is to reach specific fuel blending targets for plant-based fuels: E-10 (bioethanol) and B-50 (biodiesel).
The documentary also says that this deforestation project extends beyond environmental destruction, as it also disrupts what has been described in the documentary as the Indigenous Papuans’ “supermarket,” “food barn,” and “bank,” as well as their homes. This, combined with the effects of the ongoing armed conflict, has led to massive displacement, with over 105,878 people in West Papua reported as IDPs by early 2026. The clearing of forests eliminates the sago groves that, in addition to providing an important staple, are foundational to Papuans’ cultural life. Furthermore, the expansion of new forms of foreign agriculture often involves the use of harmful pesticides, which contaminate surrounding ecosystems, including water sources.
The PSN’s implementation relies heavily on military and corporate involvement. It is akin to a “military operation other than war,” reinforced by roughly 56,000 troops, who have officially been deployed to deal with insurgents. At times, customary land is seized by military personnel to establish bases and ports within project zones. Additionally, troops have placed ownership signboards on Indigenous lands, often using intimidation tactics used to pressure landowners into signing away rights for as little as $18 per hectare. While these military forces have pursued their own strategic interests and official state objectives, they have also supported powerful private companies with close ties to the Indonesian government, which continue to benefit from the PSN, particularly two conglomerates: the Jhonlin Group and the Merauke Sugar Group.
The crisis in West Papua has been labelled a “slow-motion genocide.” Despite this, throughout the documentary, Indigenous Papuans demonstrate various strategies of resilience and resistance. The film opens and closes with the ceremonial planting of red crosses on sacred land. The presence of more than 1,800 such red crosses and other customary markers painted on trees functions as a symbol of resistance, marking territorial boundaries and warning outsiders against entering or disturbing ancestral lands without permission.
Awon Atatbon represents the most proactive form of resistance against the erasure of West Papua’s Indigenous cultures. The ceremony functions as a cultural ritual-turned-mechanism for territorial, social, and economic consolidation among different Indigenous communities. The feast demonstrates that this land is far from “empty,” and affirms the deep historical relationship Indigenous peoples maintain with their territory and their commitment to preserving these connections for future generations. Just as Dale stated, “the struggle against colonialism and oppression cannot rely on a single approach. Social, cultural, political, and religious elements must unite in confronting humanitarian issues.”
Halfway through the film, the voices of Papuan women are brought to the forefront, although only briefly. “Pig Feast” highlights their determination to defend their land for the sake of their children. However, the film did leave out deeper explorations into Papuan women’s experiences and contributions as it leaves unanswered questions about the roles women played in earlier confrontations and the ways they continue to build resilience and contribute to contemporary forms of resistance today.
West Papua has often been referred to as “the most underreported region in the world.” Thus, one of the largest impacts of “Pig Feast” is that there was a rare large-scale effort in the mass media to hold the Indonesian government accountable for its atrocities, using channels that transcend national boundaries. As of June 20, the documentary has been viewed by over 14 million people on the official YouTube account of Jubi, West Papua’s most prominent independent media outlet, in addition to more than 11,000 requests for public screenings throughout Indonesia, of which 1,800 took place.
Inevitably, the Indonesian government has resorted to its tried-and-true methods of censorship to curb this newfound threat to its “historical impunity.” While the government claims that the documentary has not been banned, reports have stated that Indonesian authorities have broken up screenings and discussions across the country, including those organized by educational institutions, using both police and military forces, who routinely justify their actions by claiming that the documentary is “provocative,” or promotes “anti-government narratives.” The phrase “colonialism in our times” particularly prompted a negative reaction inside the government, even from relatively moderate officials. Organizers of these screenings have also been put under surveillance and intimidation.
On the more covert side are suspicions that the government has co-opted the Indigenous Papuans themselves. Most notable is the case of Mama Yasinta, the leader of the Marind community in West Papua and a key figure in “Pig Feast.” Despite her oppositional stance to the PSN in the documentary, Yasinta suddenly appeared on national television in early June, pressing charges against Laksono for allegedly using her likeness without her consent, and calling for an end to documentary screenings. This followed her initial mysterious disappearance from West Papua, and rumors that she was transported by corporate jet to Jakarta with the help of the military, which further inflamed suspicions that Yasinta had been pressured or co-opted by the government.
Deepfake AI-generated videos of Papuan independence activists praising the PSN or criticizing “Pig Feast” have also recently been posted across social media platforms. While dis- and misinformation are both “old wine in a new bottle” for the Indonesian government’s censorship regime, especially under President Prabowo Subianto, the rise of AI-generated propaganda is further evidence of Jakarta’s efforts to undermine any media activism that tries to bring it to accountability in West Papua.
Optimistically, these efforts have not fully stopped the documentary’s momentum, nor discussions of its contents throughout the country – and further afield.
