Ary Hermawan – 2025 has been a tough year for Indonesians. Many people in Sumatra are still grappling with the aftermath of one of the island's worst flood disasters. The environmental crisis, which many said was man-made, caught both local and central governments off guard. Questions have been raised about whether the Prabowo Subianto government has been fully transparent in handling the ongoing crisis, as Fia Hamid-Walker argued.
The concerns and frustrations expressed by civil society forces about Prabowo's political decisions regarding the ecological crisis in Sumatra centred around the question of why he has balked at declaring a national disaster. They see this as emblematic of everything that has gone wrong with his presidency, which has only just begun its second year.
Already, it is a presidency characterised by heavily centralised command and limited public participation. This may explain why 2025 has been a year of protests. The absence of effective formal avenues to channel their complaints means protest, regardless of its efficacy, has become the only 'mode of political participation' for many politically marginalised Indonesians.
Indonesia at Melbourne has, therefore, published many articles about the protests in 2025, representing different approaches and points of view. Below are some key takeaways from what our writers have said about the year.
A year of protests and mass arrests
The rise of protest movements in Indonesia began in late 2019. This was shortly after Prabowo joined the second and final Jokowi government, which quickly began to deliver a series of elite-driven laws that critics say were meant to roll back democratic reforms. However, it was only after Prabowo's 2024 election that the protests became more widespread.
At the beginning of 2025, the hashtag #IndonesiaGelap (DarkIndonesia) trended on social media and became a rallying cry for street protests organised by student organisations. It was a response to Prabowo's huge budget cuts, which affected public services and sparked public anger. Riandy Laksono described the policy as 'ill-timed' and 'misguided'.
The #IndonesiaGelap hashtag was then followed by the hashtag #KaburAjaDulu (JustRunAwayFirst), posted as an act of protest by those who want to leave the country. The hashtag, triggered by the passage of major amendments to Indonesian Military (TNI) Law, which further expands the military's roles in civilian affairs, represents both the frustration of young, increasingly precarious Indonesian nationals and their belief that the smallest act of resistance, as Karina Maharani contends, matters.
A protest movement is now clearly growing in Indonesia. The first major protest occurred far from the capital city of Jakarta in early August. In Pati, Central Java, thousands of people took to the streets to protest 'a package of grievances' that included objections to an extraordinary 250 per cent increase in the Rural and Urban Land and Building Tax (PBB-P2) at a time when the people were struggling just to get by. The protest was well-organised, as Abi S. Nugroho described:
'There were donation coordinators, and initiators and coordinators for the protests. Supplies of money, food and drink to support the protests came from Pati residents and from outside the Regency – and even from Pati families overseas.'
The largest protests, however, transpired in the country's major cities at the end of August. These were triggered by a series of issues and incidents ranging from an exorbitant housing allowance that legislators voted themselves to the killing of an ojek driver – Affan Kurniawan – by anti-riot police officers. The protests eventually evolved into mass riots, the ransacking of public facilities, including police stations, and lootings of public officials' houses.
At least 6,700 people were arrested during and after the August protests. Nearly 1,000 people were later charged with serious crimes and are awaiting trial. It was the largest crackdown by the state on protestors since the 1998 Reformasi movement. 2025 was more than just a year of protests – it was also a year of mass arrests, a sign of increasing authoritarianism.
Making sense of the August protests
The consensus is that genuine political and economic grievances are what triggered the August protests. It is, however, harder to pinpoint the factors that transformed the protests into mass riots, the largest since 1998.
Rafiqa Qurrata A'yun, Ary Hermawan and Abdil Mughis Mudhoffir suggested that it might have to do with the fact that the protests coincided with an intensifying conflict among the elite. 'This is indicated', they argued:
'by the fact that the riots and looting took place with little interference from Indonesian Military (TNI) members at the scene. In the Kwitang area near the police's Mobile Brigade headquarters in Jakarta, some men wearing military uniforms were even filmed handing banknotes to the crowd, a rare act aimed at garnering public sympathy. The police, meanwhile, appeared lethargic in responding to the looting and were absent from any recorded footage of the events.'
A three-way power struggle involving Prabowo and his two predecessors, Joko 'Jokowi' Widodo and Megawati Soekarnoputri, chair of the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle, the nation's largest party, seems to be the context behind the riots. This centres on who controls the National Police, a powerful and coercive state institution that had built a strong alliance with Jokowi to expand its powers. Public anger over the killing of Affan Kurniawan, for example, could have been easily exploited by the Prabowo camp to discredit the current police leadership, headed by Gen. Listyo Sigit Prabowo, a close ally of Jokowi.
Ian Wilson offers a different interpretation. He writes:
'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.'
He further argues that 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.' Ian highlighted new actors in Indonesia's protest movements, including the ojol (online motorcycle taxi) drivers who have built 'new forms of networked solidarity' and the many school-age teenagers 'from poor and working-class backgrounds'.
Ahmad Syarif Syechabubakr agrees that these groups played key roles, but also believes that the new actors, including the school-age teenagers, 'can be easily manipulated into participating in symbolic violence'.
Dark clouds and silver linings
The challenges facing Indonesian civil society are clear. The mass arrests of those taking part in the August protests have created a chilling effect on free speech. However, they have also forced Indonesian civil society activists to do some soul-searching. How did it come to this? What have they got right or wrong over the last few years?
Gita Putri Damayana highlighted the fragmentation of civil society and the different treatment policymakers have given to different actors in the August protests. Social media influencers, she writes, have apparently overshadowed NGO activists and grassroots vocational students, garnering more media attention and prompting policymakers to adopt three of their 17 demands.
While acknowledging the disparity, Gita argues that we should not rush to demand 'a unified civil society front to confront the government, like that which emerged under the New Order.' She writes that, given 'the fragmented nature of Indonesia's ruling elite, which operates at various levels and on many fronts, it is more productive for activists to try to bridge the gaps between influencers, CSOs, and grassroots vocational students than focusing on a centralised power challenge. She argues that by 'reducing these divisions, civil society can foster a stronger sense of public accountability and become more resilient in facing potential challenges from a regressive regime.'
In fact, there are already signs of resilience within Indonesian civil society, writes Ery Nugroho. 'This was evident following the August protests in the form of acts of solidarity and follow-up protests in response to the detention of activists,' he argues.
'For resilience to translate into meaningful resistance, progressive civil society groups and activists, including students, NGOs, labour unions, and diaspora communities, must forge broader and more strategic alliances and develop a collective, long-term strategy of resistance. Of course, that is no small task, and far easier said than done.'
Regardless of whether you view the situation as a glass half-empty or half-full, the pro-democracy movement in Indonesia is still alive and fighting, despite its current fragmentation. In the last few years, for instance, Indonesian diaspora communities have begun to consolidate to respond to the ongoing political developments in their home country.
Indonesia's pro-democracy forces cannot afford to remain divided. 2026 will not be easy for them. Whether Prabowo succeeds in consolidating his power or whether his bid to centralise political and economic power is met with opposition from other elites, the country is in for another tumultuous year.