Indonesians have taken to the streets over the past week to protest against elite corruption. The demonstrations began peacefully on August 25 with protests outside parliament in the capital, Jakarta. They soon spread across the country.
The Indonesian People’s Revolution, a group at the centre of the demonstrations, is demanding an investigation into corruption allegations involving the family of former president Joko “Jokowi” Widodo. Jokowi has strongly rejected these accusations, painting them as a smear campaign.
Protesters are also calling for the dissolution of parliament and the impeachment of the current vice-president, Gibran Rakabuming Raka, who is Jokowi’s son.
Gibran’s path to the vice-presidency was controversial. In Indonesia, presidential and vice-presidential candidates must be at least 40 years old, yet he was only 36 during the 2024 election. The constitutional court – led by Gibran’s uncle, Anwar Usman – changed the rules to grant an exception for regional leaders. Usman was dismissed from his post by an ethics council less than a month later.
The group’s demands resonate with wider public anger over the gulf between privilege and poverty in Indonesia. Parliamentarians pocket high salaries, while millions of workers scrape by on some of the lowest minimum wages in the world. News in mid-August that MPs had secured another pay rise only added fuel to the fire.
The protests have now erupted into violence in several areas of the country. The trigger for this came on August 28, when an armoured police vehicle struck and killed a motorcycle taxi driver in Jakarta, before fleeing the scene. Listyo Sigit Prabowo, Indonesia’s national police chief, issued an apology to the victim’s family and has confirmed the case is being investigated.
Indonesia’s current president, Prabowo Subianto, initially denounced demonstrators as “traitors” and “terrorists”, vowing decisive action against them. But he has now backtracked, pledging on August 31 to heed public demands and even cut lawmakers’ allowances.
In the days leading up to this abrupt reversal, echoes of a darker chapter in the nation’s history resurfaced – one marked by state-led violence and intimidation, the mobilisation of Islamist groups, and the scapegoating of minorities.
Indonesia prides itself on bhinneka tunggal ika, unity in diversity. But Prabowo has long relied on conservative Islamist groups to strengthen his power, push through hardline policies and help silence dissent. This includes the Islamic Defenders Front, which the Jokowi government banned in 2020.
Back in 2014, when Jokowi and Prabowo contested presidential elections, Islamist hardliners perpetrated smear campaigns against Jokowi, accusing him of being a communist agent. They also orchestrated the mass mobilisation that toppled Jakarta’s ethnic Chinese Christian governor, Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, in 2017.
The alliance cooled after Prabowo entered Jokowi’s coalition at the end of 2019, but has seemingly been revived amid the current protests. On August 30, the president summoned 16 Islamic organisations to his private residence, reportedly urging them to work with the government to “guard security and peace”.
Meanwhile, racist threats targeting Chinese Indonesian women have flooded online platforms. Popular content creator Elsa Novia Sena, among others, have received rape threats from an account named @endonesaatanpacinak (“Indonesia without Chinese”). I too received rape threats online after criticising the government on X.
For many in Indonesia’s Chinese minority, the atmosphere is chillingly reminiscent of May 1998. That month saw hundreds of women brutally raped – some with sharp tools – in riots characterised by widespread looting and killing. Human rights activists say the 1998 riots were orchestrated or exacerbated by the military to divert public attention from anti-government demonstrations.
Prabowo, an army general at the time, is suspected of being involved in human rights violations during the 1998 riots. He has rejected his alleged involvement in any acts of violence – but was discharged from the military over the allegations, and banned from entering the US for two decades.
Departure from the past
During the blackouts on August 31 in parts of Jakarta (which also occurred prior to the 1998 riots), looting broke out. Yet, in my opinion, something feels different this time. Protesters deliberately targeted the homes of four MPs accused of sneering at the public after securing a pay rise.
The house of Sri Mulyani, Indonesia’s finance minister, was also attacked. She is seen by many Indonesians as complicit in imposing draconian tax policies on ordinary people while sparing elite lawmakers. Sri has dismissed the accusation, stating that any laws are passed in an “open and transparent manner”.
No Chinese Indonesians have been attacked so far. A new slogan, “people looking after people”, has circulated on social media. Many insist the old trick of scapegoating Indonesia’s Chinese minority no longer works.
In May 1998, public anger against the then-president, Suharto, was driven by an economic crash. Indonesia’s ethnic Chinese population – seen as disproportionately successful in business – became convenient scapegoats. This time, however, many Indonesian people have turned against the army.
The protests are no longer only about economic grievances or corruption – they seem to be a stand against the authoritarian playbook of divide and rule. Many even suspect that some of the looters in the current demonstrations are soldiers in disguise.
In Surabaya, a city on the Indonesian island of Java, suspicions deepened when several police posts were torched. People online pointed out that the arsonist, caught in a viral photo, wore an outdated motorcycle taxi uniform paired with Adidas Terrex shoes worth millions of rupiah (hundreds of pounds). The caption asked: “Why would a taxi driver wear a uniform no longer in circulation and, if he really were one, how could he possibly afford such shoes?”
Prabowo may not have anticipated such a reaction from the Indonesian people, forcing him into a U-turn. But despite his gestures of appeasement, many remain unconvinced, dismissing his offers as merely cosmetic.
That scepticism appeared vindicated almost immediately. Late on September 1, the Islamic University of Bandung and Pasundan University came under attack as security forces fired tear gas and rubber bullets at student protesters.
The mass protests, which have spread to 32 provinces of Indonesia, are unlikely to subside soon. The question is whether the government can still weaponise fear and prejudice to cling to power – or whether ordinary Indonesians will stand firm and united against corruption and state violence in demanding justice.
Soe Tjen Marching does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
