Indonesia Today

How are the citizens of Indonesia doing today?

Before you answer that, let me tell you about a friend.

I called him the other day. He’d just been let go from his job. Now, he sells fresh chicken in his village. Nothing grand—just enough to get by. He still has mouths to feed.

His days start before dawn and end at 10 a.m., when he finishes his round selling chicken door to door. The rest of the day is his: tending to his small grocery shop, waiting for neighbors to drop by now and then.

I asked him about his revenue. He laughed and said, “Trillions.” I understood. It’s not much.

Then I asked if he ever wanted to come back to Jakarta—to see me. He lives in West Java, right on the border with Central Java. Jakarta could be our meeting point. The last time he was there was during Ramadan, invited by his former boss—the same one who pushed him into early retirement—for a reunion and iftar together.

I thought he’d hate the memory of that place. Toxic, I assumed. But he corrected me.

He said he actually enjoyed working there. And if another company offered him a job, he’d take it. Toxic or not.

Because right now, his priority is simple: support his youngest child still in school, and his wife. He was once offered a book-editing project, but the fee was only around three million rupiah—barely enough to last two months. In his position, I wouldn’t be picky either. You just do whatever it takes. Work as best you can. Don’t get fired early.

That’s how bad the economy has become.

We’re willing to be imprisoned in soul-crushing jobs, as long as we can still eat, sleep under a roof that doesn’t leak, and feel safe—undisturbed.

But then, he told me something else. Something about the Merah Putih Cooperative—the one the president has been promoting.

A local figure in his village started forming a village cooperative. My friend and others were recruited as administrators. But once they learned that the military controlled all the rules and performance metrics—and that they, as civilians, were just pawns with no real voice—the leadership disbanded.

They felt used by the military. By the regime. By this increasingly militaristic government.

Now, I’m not anti-military. My grandfather was a retired TNI officer. My own name carries a military connection. But something about the military’s growing involvement these days unsettles me—and many others.

Strangely, despite the militarization, social media—especially Threads—is filled with complaints about declining security in Jakarta, BSD, and even my own hometown. More street robberies. Young people racing aimlessly at night, convoys with no clear purpose. Anxiety is rising.

And it’s not just paranoia. In my housing complex, burglaries and vehicle thefts have increased. One happened in broad daylight on a Friday afternoon—right when most men were at the mosque for prayers. Even CCTV didn’t stop it.

Then came the guilty verdict for Nadiem Makarim. Adding more gloom to a country already hit by flash floods in Sumatra and a rupiah sliding past 17,000 against the U.S. dollar.

In the middle of all this, noise erupts over Amien Rais—the 1998 Reform icon—accusing Prabowo of being manipulated by Teddy, whom Amien claims is gay.

Setting aside the allegation, Teddy was indeed close to Jokowi—the “sengkunyit” from Solo who still holds a firm grip on the palace.

As if that’s not enough—a school in Pontianak refused a rematch in a quiz competition after a female student protested the judges’ unfair decision. Her score was docked unjustly. The two problematic judges—one with questionable articulation, the other with past corruption summons from the KPK—were doxxed by netizens.

The student was later offered a scholarship to China. Influencer Bima warned her to be cautious: partial scholarship, strings attached, and a regime that tolerates no dissent. Bima called it a PR band-aid, meant to patch up the image of the MPR.

Maybe the regime doesn’t want this case to trigger the unrest of August 2025—ignited by careless statements from public figures like Ahmad Sahroni and Nafa Urbach, striking raw nerves while the economy tightens its grip.

Meanwhile, Bivitri Susanti published an article in The Economist, criticizing the Prabowo regime for draining state funds and dismantling what little democracy was left—already wrecked by Jokowi, the power-hungry man from Solo. His ambition to move the capital to IKN? Just struck down by the Constitutional Court.

And we, the people—we can only curse these rulers who so recklessly spend the money we earn from working day and night.

Indonesia might soon collapse—just as Prabowo once predicted. Let’s hope it comes quickly. Because maybe only then can this nation get a fresh start.

We’re tired. So tired of the injustice. The savagery. Right in front of our eyes. (*/)