Ian Wilson – The mass protests that erupted across Indonesia in late August – resulting in ten fatalities and extensive damage to government and public infrastructure – have prompted a familiar choreography of blame and securitised response. State narratives swiftly attributed the unrest, a product of widespread dissatisfaction at government responses to cost of living pressures, to manipulation by so-called 'unseen actors' allegedly intent on inciting public disorder and political instability. In an address to the nation President Prabowo, flanked by the leaders of the major political parties, said such actions amounted to treason and terrorism.
Many activists and commentators have countered state narratives claiming that the protests – primarily organised by student groups and trade unions – were infiltrated by state or political elite-linked provocateurs. These actors, it is argued, played a central role in the widespread burning of government and public infrastructure. The prevailing contention is that such actions were strategically deployed to delegitimise growing dissatisfaction with the Prabowo administration by recasting largely peaceful dissent as destabilising violent unrest. This reframing has subsequently been used to justify a broader crackdown on political freedoms.
Tactics of infiltrating street protests are by no means new, echoing longstanding patterns in Indonesia wherein state-linked actors have sought to manipulate public dissent. One of the most emblematic instances was the upheaval of 1998, during which anti-regime demonstrations devolved into widespread looting and the violent targeting of ethnic Chinese communities. Subsequent fact-finding investigations indicated that provocateurs – allegedly linked to elements within the military – played a significant role in instigating the violence as part of inter-elite struggles over power.
The penyusup narrative
The figure of the 'penyusup' – the shadowy provocateur who incites unrest and pushes protest beyond the bounds of legitimate political action – has become deeply entrenched in Indonesia's interpretive repertoire for understanding episodes of mass mobilisation. This trope functions not only as a rhetorical device but as a durable framework through which both state and segments of civil society narrate the transformation of peaceful protest into violence.
In the context of recent demonstrations, a peculiar consensus appears to have emerged: that rioting was not organic, in spite of a dramatic escalation due to police brutality, but rather instigated by external actors who infiltrated otherwise legitimate and 'pure' forms of dissent. The point of contention lies in the identification of these nefarious agents and the interests they purportedly serve.
While state narratives gesture toward unnamed conspirators, 'mafia' or 'foreign influence', critical voices within civil society suggest the involvement of domestic elite factions or security apparatuses. Some analysts, for example, argue that the escalation from legitimate protest to rioting was orchestrated by competing elite factions as part of ongoing inter-oligarchic struggles.
Arguably, there is elements of truth to both accounts. Many reports indicate the presence of unidentified actors burning public facilities while an algorithmic cacophony of calls to action, both genuine and fake, resulted in an array of varying interests descending on protest sites. Social upheaval is inherently complex and often characterised by overlapping and contradictory dynamics that resist singular interpretation.
Contestation over the penyusup narrative and the emphasis on elite orchestration has, in many respects, obscured the agency of actors operating outside dominant interpretive frames, including those of class, albeit for different reasons and to different ends.
This erasure has deep historical roots. During the New Order, Indonesian society underwent a systematic process of depoliticisation. The regime's framing of the populace as a politically inert massa mengambang (floating mass) effectively stripped broad swathes of society of political subjectivity. Political agency was selectively attributed to sanctioned actors such as university students, labor unions, and a narrow band of civil society organisations. This legacy continues to shape contemporary understandings of protest, wherein the political agency of marginalised groups is often rendered invisible or, when it does manifest attributed to external provocation, short-term material interest, or sectarianism.
Such framings also tend to nullify the 'messy' agency of various subaltern actors. Opportunism in this context, such as in the attacking of symbols of authority or targeted looting, is not merely a feature of elite manipulation during moments of unrest – it is also a recurring characteristic of how marginalised groups navigate political expression. Yet, the difficulty in recognising this agency is compounded by upper-middle-class anxieties around security and disorder, which increasingly manifests in urban Indonesia through expanding forms of socio-spatial segregation.
The new faces of mobilisation
Recent protests have revealed the political salience of two groups often overlooked in mainstream analyses that emphasise the role of university students and civil society activists. The first are ojol (online motorcycle taxi drivers), emblematic of Indonesia's gig economy, an increasingly precarious labor landscape, and an emergent re-politicising of city streets throughout the country together with new forms of networked solidarity.
The second are school-age teenagers – many from poor and working-class backgrounds – whose visibility in protest footage and livestreams has been striking. These youths were not passive bystanders; many appeared primed, energised, and willing to confront police and attack symbols of state authority. Their participation often escalated as tensions rose, suggesting a readiness to engage rather than a mere opportunistic presence.
Subsequent police reports indicate that many of those detained on charges of rioting were teenagers, some allegedly in possession of rudimentary weapons or Molotov cocktails and linked to local teen anarchist clubs. In Central Java, for instance, 70% of those detained in connection with the unrest were minors. While these arrests, and subsequent calls for greater scrutiny, reflect an awareness of the extent of youth involvement, they remain framed within narratives of incitement and manipulation – reaffirming the trope of the misguided child rather than acknowledging an emergent political subjectivity.
Beyond the provocateur frame
Official narratives have been quick to attribute the unrest to external provocateurs, with early arrests targeting alleged ringleaders accused of inciting minors. Yet, if we move beyond the explanatory frame of penyusup and elite manipulation, a different set of dynamics emerges.
A notable feature of the recent protest-related violence was its concentrated targeting of state symbols – parliament buildings, police stations, and other institutional sites. This was not indiscriminate looting; it was a directed expression of grievance, albeit one lacking formal articulation.
Bibeau-Gagnon has argued that riots, in certain contexts, can function as a form of political representation, especially for those otherwise excluded from formal democratic and representational institutions. As inheritors of structural failures – economic precarity, educational stagnation, and diminished prospects for mobility – Indonesian youth have ample cause for frustration. Yet, they are afforded few legitimate avenues for political expression. Their actions, while not tethered to coherent demands or formal platforms, and driven often by boredom and the desire for peer respect and recognition, nonetheless reflect a form of embodied dissent.
The difficulty in recognising these actions as political agency, rather than delinquency or the result of manipulation, stems from entrenched assumptions about who qualifies as a political actor. It also reflects the limits of youth-based protest movements in Indonesia, which, despite becoming more dynamic and inclusive, still struggle to accommodate the 'unruly' and uncredentialed. Is it not possible, then, that what we have witnessed in recent weeks is not merely the work of provocateurs, but the expression of an ignored political class?