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wo recent occasions related to the 1965 mass killings forced us to look at ourselves in the mirror with a deep sense of embarrassment but also with hope: The nomination of the film The Act of Killing for a prestigious Academy Award, and the enactment of a municipal regulation in Palu, Central Sulawesi, on fulfilling the rights of the victims of the 1965/1966 violence.

The Act of Killing, translated as Jagal in Indonesia, has been nominated for the 2014 Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. The film has been shown in many countries and has attracted wide attention on one of the darkest pages of our history, which some scholars dub as one of the worst cases of mass murder in the 20th century.

Many film critics and international scholars alike wrote the reviews, and the film has received a number of international film awards. The reactions from those who have seen the film vary; most were surprised to learn of the scale of the mass atrocity, which has been blanketed by silence for almost five decades now.

In some places, such as China, some people felt enraged as the killings also targeted members of the Chinese community in Indonesia.

The nomination of the film means that the world acknowledges serious crimes took place in our backyard; similar to other documentaries that have highlighted the Holocaust, the genocide in Rwanda and the Afghan civil war, among others.

Meanwhile, at the local level, the Palu administration recently issued Municipal Regulation No. 25/2013 on a regional national action plan on human rights, which specifically refers to victims of the 1965/1966 violence (Chapter III, followed by more specific references in some clauses).

One of the main reasons for the introduction of this regulation was to highlight government responsibility toward a significant number of its people who suffered injustice in the wake of the killings.

It was the result of years of struggle by the victims and civil society groups, such as Palu Solidarity
for Victims of Human Rights Violations (SKP HAM), seeking acknowledgment and justice from the local government.

Palu Mayor Rudi Mastura unexpectedly delivered a formal apology to the victims in 2012, making him the first government official to disclose the truth of this dark chapter in the region'€™s history as well as acknowledging the injustice suffered by some of its people and making a commitment to reconcile society.

As an Indonesian, I am happy that the world finally knows what happened in this country during the 1960s'€™ upheaval and its aftermath. As Germany chose to be honest about its past regarding the Holocaust, and used what it learned from that to become a great nation, I am hoping Indonesia will do the same.

As a citizen of the world, I am glad this film provides an opportunity for people to learn about the horrific event and about the damage that such evil has upon humanity and civilization.

Moreover, the film reminds every nation how war on an ideology can lead to the extermination of millions of people. Even though the film does not show how the state and its security apparatus (i.e. the military) played a central role in the killings nationwide, the film'€™s story is set as one of a number of systematic and collaborative efforts nationally and internationally, involving not only the Indonesian government but also Western governments during the Cold War.

It is such a shame that the Indonesian government has reacted negatively to the film'€™s Oscar nomination. The Presidential spokesperson for foreign affairs, Teuku Faizasyah, recently described the film as '€œdamaging Indonesia, [which is] portrayed as a lawless and cruel nation'€.

The statement was challenged by the film'€™s production team, which said making the film was part of their responsibility as human beings as well as an effort to demand responsibility from other countries for the wrongs committed during Indonesia'€™s past.

However, Teuku'€™s response is the first official statement ever made by the Indonesian government. Adrian Vickers, an Australian scholar, wrote in the Sydney Morning Herald on Jan. 28 that the government was '€œprobably adopting the standard official procedure when faced with a major problem: Ignore it and hope it will go away'€.

President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono has always been reluctant to include the 1965 mass killings in his never-realized plan to make an official apology to survivors; and as head of state, he never supported or instructed the Attorney General'€™s Office to follow up the four-year investigation by the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) into the 1965/1966 crimes against humanity.

Since his time in office will end this year, we can congratulate Yudhoyono for another success in allowing such an important issue to be '€œhidden with shame'€, both domestically and internationally.

Unlike Yudhoyono or most of our other political leaders, the Palu mayor has choosen to come to terms with the past because, as he said to me some time ago: '€œThis kind of [atrocity] must never happen again'€. He learned from his own personal experience the damage and cost to communities as well as to the victims, as a result of decades of stigmatization of being associated with the Sept. 30 Movement, and concluded that survivors were entitled to peace and dignity.

The Palu regulation fits with a title awarded to the city by the Law and Human Rights Ministry, Palu: city of human rights awareness. The bylaw is one of the mayor'€™s efforts to realize his commitment following his formal apology.

The Palu initiative reminds us of one very important thing in democracy: That it is always possible to push for change at a local level, even though the status quo may remain strong at the center of politics in Indonesia. The New Order'€™s master narrative on the so-called '€œabortive coup'€ blamed the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) and justified the mass killing of suspected leftists and other civilians. This was the political legitimacy used by president Soeharto to hold sway and maintain his power for more than three decades.

Since the dawning of the 1998 Reform era and its failure to acknowledge this country'€™s dark history, the same narrative has remained strong and has provided the basis of political legitimacy for the new, supposedly democratic, regimes.

Such regimes insist that this nation lives under the fear or its own history and, in choosing not to face it, allows the image of a '€œlawless and cruel nation'€ remain with us. The Act of Killing is nothing more than a mirror to hold up to ourselves.

The writer is researching transitional justice in Indonesia for her PhD thesis at the Australian National University in Canberra.