When Clemency become Currency: Prabowo and his Clemency Gambit

 

On 1 August, 2025, Thomas "Tom" Lembong stepped out of Cipinang Prison while Hasto Kristiyanto walked free from KPK detention, both beneficiaries of President Prabowo Subianto's clemency. But this wasn't mercy—it was the most audacious political transaction in Indonesia's democratic era, disguised as a gesture of national unity.

The timing tells the story. Hours after their release, PDI-P held its long-delayed sixth congress at Bali Nusa Dua Convention Centre, an event that had been postponed multiple times since 2024. The party couldn't very well proceed with its most important organisational gathering while its Secretary-General sat in prison. And Prabowo solved that problem with surgical precision, ensuring Hasto's freedom coincided exactly with the congress that would reshape Indonesia's political landscape.

By evening, the transformation was complete. Megawati Soekarnoputri, reconfirmed as PDI-P leader, instructed her cadres to support Prabowo's government—a stunning reversal for Indonesia's largest ‘opposition’ party. The choreography was flawless: prison to congress to coalition in a single day. This level of coordination doesn't happen by accident; it's the result of months of careful negotiation where clemency became the ultimate bargaining chip.

Yet the two cases that Prabowo chose to resolve reveal something more troubling than mere political horse-trading: Indonesia's justice system has become a weapon of political control, capable of both manufacturing crimes and forgiving real ones depending on the political needs of those in power.

Consider Hasto's case first. Here was textbook corruption: he was convicted of providing Rp 600 million in bribes to secure Harun Masiku's parliamentary seat, a direct monetary exchange to manipulate democratic processes. Cash changed hands. Electoral integrity was compromised. Democracy itself was corrupted. If this isn't worthy of punishment, what is?

Tom Lembong's case, however, tells a different and more disturbing story. The judges explicitly stated he "had no criminal intent" and "did not receive personal benefits" from his sugar import decisions. He wasn't required to pay restitution precisely because he gained nothing personally. His "crime" was violating administrative procedures by granting import permits to private companies instead of state-owned enterprises—a policy decision dressed up as corruption.

This wasn't justice; it was the criminalisation of governance. Legal experts warned that Tom's conviction was "dangerous because it blurs the lines between administrative errors and criminal acts”, creating a chilling effect where ministers might fear making any controversial decisions. When policy disagreements become criminal cases, democracy dies a slow death in courtrooms.

The contrast couldn't be starker: a genuine corruptor who paid bribes to steal legislative seats, and a technocrat prosecuted for following presidential directives on trade policy. Yet both walked free on the same day...

Prabowo's calculation was brilliant in its cynicism. By freeing Tom, he sent a message to every technocrat and business leader who felt victimised by Jokowi's weaponisation of the justice system: align with me, and your legal troubles disappear. By freeing Hasto, he unlocked the door to PDI-P's institutional power and voter base. Two clemency decisions, two constituencies captured.

The former president's shadow looms large over this transaction. Prabowo's 20 July visit to Jokowi now appears less like courtesy and more like political conditioning, ensuring his predecessor wouldn't object to decisions that effectively repudiated his legacy of legal intimidation. Both Tom and Hasto represented opposition to Jokowi's reign—Tom as the technocrat who helped Anies Baswedan and questioned economic orthodoxy, Hasto as the party operative who challenged presidential authority.

The speed of the entire process betrayed its political nature. The DPR approved both requests on July 31, just one day after receiving them, with consultations held behind closed doors rather than in public debate. Even the announcement came late on a Thursday evening, designed to minimise media attention and public scrutiny. 

What makes this gambit particularly audacious is how Prabowo weaponised Indonesia's most cherished narratives. Officials claimed this was about national unity for the country's 80th independence anniversary, invoking patriotic sentiment to cover political manoeuvring. But the real celebration wasn't Indonesia's birthday—it was PDI-P's congress, where a formerly imprisoned party leader could seamlessly take his place in a new political order.

Perhaps most revealing is what this decision says about Prabowo's governing philosophy. Rather than working through democratic institutions to build consensus, he's demonstrating that presidential prerogative can override judicial decisions when politically convenient. This concentration of power might seem benevolent when used to correct prosecutorial overreach, but it fundamentally weakens the institutional foundations of Indonesian democracy.

The contrast with his predecessor is telling. Where Jokowi used legal institutions to exclude and intimidate political opponents, Prabowo is using clemency to include and co-opt them. It's a different approach to the same fundamental problem: how to manage political opposition in a democratic system. The question is whether Prabowo's inclusionary strategy represents mature democratic leadership or simply a more sophisticated form of authoritarian control.

The broader pattern emerging suggests that Prabowo views political opposition not as a healthy democratic force to be engaged through policy debate, but as a problem to be managed through transactional relationships. This reduces democratic politics to elite deal-making rather than principled competition over governing vision—a reality starkly illustrated by the seamless transition from Hasto's prison cell to PDI-P's congress podium.

For now, two convicted men walk free—one who deserved prosecution but received clemency, another who received prosecution but deserved clemency. In the gap between these two injustices lies a troubling truth: it has become a system where law serves power rather than justice, where clemency becomes currency, and where the president's political needs ultimately trump the courts' legal decisions. Whether this represents the maturation of Indonesian democracy or its corruption may depend on what Prabowo does with the considerable power he has now consolidated in his hands.

New Publication in Asian Survey!

 

Happy to share my latest publication in Asian Survey (with Mardyanto Tryatmoko & Poltak Nainggolan):

 "From Parliament to Platform: Democratic Regression and Technocratic Control in Indonesia’s New Capital."

Access here: https://online.ucpress.edu/as/article/doi/10.1525/as.2025.2649287/212298/From-Parliament-to-PlatformDemocratic-Regression?guestAccessKey=22bfca08-c747-442b-b1f1-1f842fe69787 

We examine how Indonesia’s new capital, IKN, becomes a global case of how digital platforms quietly replace democratic institutions, masking authoritarian shifts under the banner of modernisation. This is not just an Indonesian story—it speaks to broader risks in platform-based governance.

If the link doesn’t work, feel free to DM me (rendypw@gmail.com) for access.

New Publication in Contemporary Southeast Asia, April 2025

Excited to share my latest publication in Contemporary Southeast Asia: 'The Rise of Religious Brokerage: Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia's 2024 Presidential Elections', co-authored with my colleague Aisah Putri Budiatri.
In this research, we examine the dramatic shift in Nahdlatul Ulama's political strategy during Indonesia's 2024 presidential elections. As Indonesia's largest Islamic organisation, NU implemented stricter policies and actively mobilised members to support government-endorsed candidates--notably backing Prabowo-Gibran despite neither having ties to the organisation.
This is actually my second publication this month (my keyboard is still recovering from the workout 😅...)

For full article, please DM me. 

New Publication: Protecting two presidents: legislative decline in Indonesia's post-2024 election transition

Happy to share our recently published article--as we watch legislative manipulation unfold before our very eyes in Indonesia, this research couldn't be more timely. We discuss how Indonesia's parliament has transformed from a check on executive power into a tool for undermining democratic norms under the facade of parliamentary procedure. 

https://www.tandfonline.com/eprint/HZ2YUX5NIFZY4DTZJFXV/full?target=10.1080/13572334.2025.2484488 

Please let me know if the link doesn't work--am more than happy to send you the Pdf. 

Indonesia's Political Crisis: What Prabowo's Administration Failed to See Coming

 The political upheaval—indeed a crisis, if one dares to characterise it as such—that has engulfed Indonesia during the nascent stages of the current administration has spawned a multitude of theoretical interpretations warranting rigorous scrutiny. Three primary arguments demand our attention: first, that the widespread unrest and public demonstrations stem from a fundamental breakdown in governmental communication channels; second, that we are witnessing a profound crisis of leadership authenticity, with executive power effectively captured by the overwhelming interests of an expansive political coalition; and third, that a systemic rejection of meritocratic principles from the administration's inception has precipitated a devastating erosion of public confidence.

This analysis endeavours to methodically examine these critical variables, offering citizens a framework through which to comprehend the underlying causes of collective anxiety, organised protest, and pervasive disillusionment with President Prabowo Subianto and Vice President Gibran Rakabuming Raka's governance.

Only through unflinching candour regarding recent events can we meaningfully dissect the manifestations of this political crisis that continues to unfold before us.

Structural Preconditions: The Political Inheritance

The Prabowo administration ascended to power upon a foundation of consequential political preconditions that significantly fortified its governing apparatus. First among these is the entrenchment of elite coalition supremacy. Marcus Mietzner, for example, meticulously documents how the presidential coalition evolved into an essential governance mechanism throughout President Joko Widodo's tenure (Mietzner 2023). President Jokowi demonstrated remarkable political dexterity in architecting an expansive coalition that effectively advanced executive priorities. This blueprint for coalition-building was subsequently bequeathed to his successor, whose 2024 presidential campaign benefited from the consolidated support of a formidable majority-party alliance.

The hegemony of this elite coalition inexorably precipitated a second critical precondition: the systematic enfeeblement of opposition forces. Both President Jokowi and Prabowo consistently articulated rhetorical frameworks emphasising national unity and political harmony—narratives that can be interpreted as a strategic disavowal of robust political contestation and opposition. Within Prabowo's administration, this tendency has reached unprecedented extremes: the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P)—remarkably, the victor in last year's legislative elections—stands as the sole political entity remaining beyond the perimeter of governmental power. This democratic anomaly is further exacerbated by emerging indications that PDI-P may ultimately integrate into Prabowo's administration or, employing the party's own diplomatic terminology, assume the role of 'government partner' within the legislature.

These twin political legacies, while superficially conducive to governmental stability, harbour profound constitutional and democratic vulnerabilities that have become increasingly manifest. The symbiotic relationship between executive dominance and legislative acquiescence has facilitated the passage of numerous legislative instruments, policy directives, and—most alarmingly—tacit acceptance of potential constitutional transgressions pertaining to electoral integrity and dynastic political entrenchment.

A third pivotal factor, materialising during the twilight of President Jokowi's administration, completes this political inheritance: the crystallisation of increasingly sophisticated and coordinated public dissent. Throughout Jokowi's presidency, the sole significant instance of mass mobilisation occurred during the '212 movement' of 2016-2017, which was ultimately neutralised through calibrated elite-level negotiations, organisational dismantling, and strategic detention of movement leadership. The subsequent period witnessed a striking absence of sustained, systematic opposition to governmental authority—a vacuum further reinforced by the sociopolitical constraints imposed during the COVID-19 pandemic, which substantially inhibited civil society mobilisation.

The resurgence of critical collective action emerged precisely at the juncture of power transition from Jokowi to Prabowo, most notably through the nationwide 'Emergency Warning' demonstrations, which sought to contest perceived constitutional infractions and defend the integrity of regional electoral processes. A distinctive characteristic of the 'Emergency Warning' movement was its remarkable sociopolitical breadth, aggregating participants across diverse demographic and occupational spectra: from cultural celebrities to vocational students, university scholars to comedic performers. As we shall examine in the following section, this unprecedented coalition of public sentiment has not merely persisted but intensified precisely as formal authority was transferred to Prabowo's administration.

Three Critical Arguments

The dual political legacies of Jokowi's administration—ostensibly serving as architectural blueprints for governance sustainability—ultimately compelled Prabowo to adopt a strategy of replication and amplification. This manifested in two distinct yet interrelated approaches: the calculated expansion of coalition partnerships and the strategic incorporation of former opposition entities. Implementing the first approach, the Prabowo administration enacted a substantial proliferation of ministerial and deputy ministerial positions, alongside the establishment of numerous bureaucratic agencies, with appointments predominantly allocated to representatives from constituent coalition parties. The prospect of meaningful opposition was systematically eliminated as former electoral adversaries were integrated into the executive structure, assuming positions of significant governmental authority. This reconfiguration engendered a pervasive confidence within the political establishment that all institutional mechanisms necessary for effective governance had been definitively secured.

Notwithstanding these calculated political manoeuvres, the past year has witnessed the emergence of three interconnected waves of significant public protest: the 'Emergency Warning' demonstrations of August 2024, the 'Dark Indonesia' movement of February 2025, and most recently, the widespread mobilisation against proposed military legislation in March 2025. These sequential manifestations of civic discontent have precipitated three distinct yet complementary theoretical interpretations.

The first analytical framework identifies a fundamental crisis in governmental communication architecture. Superficially, this perspective might appear reductionist, seemingly collapsing complex political dynamics into mere communicative dysfunction. However, dismissing this interpretation as simplistic would constitute an analytical error. Contemporary media documentation has assiduously chronicled numerous instances wherein governmental representatives and political elites have systematically minimised public concerns, and in certain contexts, actively delegitimised them. The recent conduct of the Head of the Presidential Communication Office—who conspicuously trivialised credible allegations regarding intimidation of journalists—exemplifies this pattern. Similarly revealing was the administrative reluctance to facilitate public access to the draft military legislation, a procedural opacity that catalysed rather than mitigated public suspicion. Thus, what presents superficially as communicative inadequacy reveals, upon closer examination, a profound institutional capacity deficit.

The second theoretical framework posits a crisis of authentic leadership, with Prabowo's executive authority ostensibly constrained by the expansive coalition he has cultivated. While this interpretation offers compelling insights regarding the perils of governance without robust opposition, it suffers from an internal contradiction: it characterises Prabowo as simultaneously powerful enough to orchestrate a grand coalition yet insufficiently autonomous to exercise independent judgment within it. This analytical tension undermines the framework's explanatory power. More accurately, President Prabowo retains substantial constitutional prerogatives in coalition formation, affording him considerable latitude in power distribution and governance architecture. His consistent articulation of 'political reconciliation' and national unity narratives since the electoral campaign suggests that the grand coalition strategy represented a deliberate policy choice rather than an externally imposed constraint. If the administration anticipated enhanced governmental agility through such a structurally unwieldy coalition, this calculation reflects a profound strategic miscalculation. The maintenance of such an arrangement necessitates perpetual coordination and coalition management—a resource-intensive endeavour that inevitably diverts governmental capacity from substantive policy implementation.

The third interpretive framework, which acquires particular salience in this context, identifies the systematic erosion of meritocratic principles through coalition-based patronage distributions—a process initiated prior to the formal establishment of the administration. This dynamic creates conditions wherein policy contradictions become not merely possible but probable. A striking dissonance emerges between President Prabowo's rhetorical commitment to transparent, merit-based governance and the empirical reality observable to the public: the meteoritic ascension of a military aide to ministerial authority while retaining active military status; the appointment of social media influencers to governmental advisory positions absent demonstrable qualification; and the installation of ministerial officials manifestly lacking requisite expertise or professional credentials.

While these three theoretical frameworks offer distinct analytical perspectives, they converge in accelerating the third political legacy previously identified: the consolidation of civil society protest movements. Following a protracted period of relative quiescence, contemporary civil society mobilisation has discovered unprecedented motivational impetus. This is driven initially by class-based grievances that have intensified through successive instances of elite privilege, exemplified by remarkable career trajectories that generate widespread social resentment. This discontent is further exacerbated by economic stressors, including tax burden increases and austerity measures implemented under the rubric of governmental efficiency, which have simultaneously impacted diverse societal segments. Rising unemployment figures since the year's commencement, coupled with increasingly prevalent narratives of university graduates accepting positions significantly below their qualification levels to sustain basic livelihood, have reinforced this sentiment.

The confluence of these three theoretical frameworks produces an inevitable sociopolitical consequence: the emergence of an intergenerational protest movement characterised by organisational sophistication, strategic coherence, and substantial numerical strength. Within the contemporary context of global political volatility, wherein analogous movements have demonstrated capacity to precipitate domestic political instability, all institutional stakeholders—particularly governmental authorities—must engage in immediate preparatory and ameliorative measures.

Indonesia's political turbulence does not exist in isolation but rather unfolds within a broader international landscape of democratic contestation and institutional crisis. Contemporaneous mass demonstrations in Serbia after collapse of the railway station canopy and against perceived governmental corruption, widespread protests across Turkey challenging electoral manipulation and democratic backsliding, and the profound global uncertainty accompanying the return of Trump's administration in the United States—with its implications for international trade, security alignments, and democratic norms—all constitute manifestations of a worldwide pattern of political volatility. This global context amplifies the significance of Indonesia's domestic political dynamics; as one of Asia's most consequential democracies, Indonesia's institutional stability—or lack thereof—reverberates well beyond its borders. The convergence of domestic grievances with international patterns of democratic fragility creates a particularly volatile political environment wherein governmental miscalculations carry heightened risk of systemic disruption.

Indeed, with even modest political foresight, the Prabowo administration should have anticipated with unequivocal clarity that the inherited political preconditions and legacies would, without significant structural reformation, inevitably culminate in precisely such a political crisis.

The Titanic Paradox: When Aid Becomes an Ego Trip

 

Remember Slavoj Žižek's brilliant take on Titanic? The philosopher argued that Rose, the wealthy socialite, needed Jack's lower-class vitality to restore her ego and sense of purpose. Once Jack served his function of making her feel alive, the iceberg conveniently solved Rose's dilemma – saving her from the "dangerous" prospect of actually marrying someone beneath her station.

Sound familiar?

The recent freeze on USAID funding exposes a similar dynamic in international relations. The United States, like Rose, enjoys the moral superiority that comes with being the benevolent provider to lower-income countries. We get to feel generous, righteous, and important – until we don't.

With a simple executive order, the Trump administration threatened billions in aid programs across the world. Programs fighting HIV/AIDS, supporting vulnerable communities, and building infrastructure were suddenly left adrift. The message? These relationships exist at our convenience.

A federal judge may have temporarily thawed this freeze, but the damage to trust is done. The ease with which these commitments were discarded reveals the uncomfortable truth: much of our "aid" architecture may be more about feeding American ego than creating sustainable partnerships.

And let's be honest about what we witnessed with the USAID freeze – the casual flexing of imperial muscle. With a stroke of a pen, thousands of healthcare workers were dismissed, life-saving programs suspended, and decades of relationship-building jeopardized. Organizations like The AIDS Support Organization (TASO) in Uganda, which receives half its funding from USAID, were left scrambling as their clients faced "panic, fear, and anxiety" about continued access to treatment.

This cavalier approach to international commitments betrays a fundamental misunderstanding – or perhaps disregard – for what these relationships actually mean on the ground. When we speak of "foreign aid," we're not discussing abstract budget lines but real human lives interwoven with American promises. The ability to disrupt these relationships so abruptly suggests they were never valued as true partnerships to begin with.

The Savior Industrial Complex

American foreign aid has long suffered from what some critics call the "savior industrial complex" – the self-congratulatory notion that we are rescuing the less fortunate through our benevolence. This framing conveniently ignores the complex historical and economic factors that created global inequality in the first place, many of which involved American and Western exploitation of resources and markets.

When countries become dependent on American aid – often by design rather than accident – we create power dynamics that mirror colonial relationships. The provider maintains control, dictates terms, and can withdraw support at any moment. The recipient must remain grateful, compliant, and forever in our debt, both literally and figuratively. Is it any wonder that such arrangements breed resentment even as they create dependency?

Perhaps most disturbing is how easily global health initiatives became political pawns. HIV/AIDS programs that took decades to build, that represent significant diplomatic as well as humanitarian achievements, were imperiled overnight not because of their effectiveness or importance, but because they made convenient bargaining chips in domestic political games.

The 90-day review period announced by the administration wasn't about improving aid efficiency – it was theater. If genuine program improvement were the goal, targeted evaluations with contingency plans would have preceded any funding adjustments. Instead, we witnessed the diplomatic equivalent of flipping the game board because you're losing – regardless of the consequences for those relying on the outcome.

This episode highlights the fundamental double standard in how we approach international commitments versus domestic ones. Imagine if Social Security checks were suddenly frozen for 90 days while the government "evaluated the program." The political backlash would be immediate and severe. Yet when it comes to commitments made to international partners, we treat these promises as optional and conditional.

This double standard reveals a troubling hierarchy of whose lives and needs matter. American voters' immediate concerns trump the life-or-death healthcare needs of HIV patients in Uganda. This approach isn't just morally questionable – it's strategically shortsighted, eroding America's standing and influence abroad.

The damage extends far beyond the immediate program disruptions. We've created what might be called a "trust deficit crisis." Every current and potential international partner now must factor in the possibility that American commitments could vanish without warning. This uncertainty will make cooperation more difficult across every domain – from health initiatives to security partnerships to climate agreements.

The iceberg has revealed structural flaws in our approach. Now we must decide whether to address them or continue sailing toward disaster – this time with the whole world aboard.

The Cost of Consensus: Prabowo's 100 Days of Political Gluttony and Fiscal Fasting

In Indonesian politics, we seem to be experiencing what medical professionals might delicately call a case of institutional constipation. The body politic, swollen with the largest cabinet in our history—48 ministers and 56 deputy ministers—appears to be struggling with its basic functions. Like an overtaxed digestive system, the government has grown too large too quickly, gorging itself on political appointments and coalitions, while simultaneously attempting a puzzling feat: a massive Rp 306.69 trillion budget cut that seems to squeeze every ministry except its own bloated core. The symptoms are familiar to anyone who's ever suffered this uncomfortable condition: things move slowly, if at all, pressure builds up, and everyone pretends not to notice the obvious discomfort. The absence of meaningful opposition in parliament only adds to this peculiar political ailment—there's no natural mechanism to help things flow smoothly. President Prabowo's first 100 days present us with this paradox: a government that has expanded to unprecedented size while simultaneously trying to tighten its belt, creating a kind of institutional gridlock that nobody wants to discuss in polite company, but that we ignore at our peril.

The surgical precision with which Prabowo has wielded his budget-cutting scalpel would be almost admirable if it weren't so bewildering. Through Presidential Instruction No. 1/2025, he has prescribed a harsh diet for the bureaucracy—switching off air conditioners, herding civil servants into shared spaces lit only by natural light, and treating business travel as if it were a luxury spa treatment that must be rationed. The Finance Minister, Sri Mulyani, typically known for her steady hand at the tiller, now finds herself in the peculiar position of explaining why government offices must operate like austere monasteries while the cabinet continues to expand like a bureaucratic universe after the Big Bang. The stated purpose, we're told, is to redirect funds to Prabowo's flagship Free Nutritious Meals program, a noble cause that somehow requires both the largest cabinet in Indonesian history and civil servants working in semi-darkness. It's as if the government is attempting to diet while simultaneously preparing for a feast, counting calories with one hand while adding extra place settings with the other.

The most fascinating aspect of this fiscal theatrics isn't just the numbers—though Rp 306.69 trillion in cuts would make anyone's eyes water—but the political choreography behind it. While ministries scramble to slash their budgets by up to 58% in some cases, Prabowo has assembled what amounts to a political Noah's Ark, with nearly every party comfortably aboard his government vessel. The Interior Ministry cuts 57.46% of its budget while learning to love natural lighting, but apparently can't trim a single position from the unprecedented array of 104 ministers and deputy ministers. This isn't just regular political accommodation; it's political gluttony dressed up as fiscal responsibility. The opposition, what little existed of it, has been effectively digested into this expansive governmental body, leaving Indonesia's democracy in the curious position of having its largest-ever government and its smallest-ever opposition. It's as if we've built the most expensive consensus money can buy, only to discover we can't afford to keep the lights on.

Opposition forces

In the midst of this grand budgetary purge, one institution remains curiously untouched by the spirit of austerity: the parliament itself. While civil servants across Jakarta huddle in dimly lit offices and count their remaining business trip allowances like precious pearls, our representatives in the DPR continue their activities unperturbed by such earthly concerns as budget cuts. It's a telling exemption that speaks volumes about the current power dynamics in our democracy—those tasked with scrutinising the government's belt-tightening apparently don't need to tighten their own belts.

This parliamentary immunity to austerity might be more palatable if it came with robust oversight and vigorous debate. Instead, we're witnessing what might be the most compliant parliament in recent memory. The same political arithmetic that produced our supersized cabinet has effectively neutered parliamentary opposition. When the government announced its sweeping budget cuts, the response from parliament wasn't scrutiny or skepticism, but rather an eerie silence that would make a monastery seem rowdy by comparison. The Free Nutritious Meals program, despite its enormous price tag and complex implementation challenges, sailed through parliamentary discussions with barely a whisper of questioning. It's as if our legislative branch has transformed from a check on executive power into an elaborate rubber-stamping mechanism.

The implications for Indonesian democracy are profound and potentially long-lasting. When Terry Karl wrote about "imposed transitions" in 1990, he probably didn't envision a scenario where democratic institutions would be hollowed out not through outright authoritarianism, but through a kind of political osmosis—where opposition is absorbed rather than suppressed, and where acquiescence is bought with cabinet positions rather than enforced through coercion. The result is a peculiar form of democratic constipation where the normal push and pull of political debate, the healthy tension between government and opposition that keeps democracy regular and functioning, has been replaced by a kind of institutional paralysis masked as consensus. We've created a political system that's too bloated to move effectively but too well-fed to complain.

As we assess these first 100 days of Prabowo's presidency, we find ourselves in the grip of a peculiar political paradox. On the surface, we see a government preaching fiscal discipline while practicing political extravagance—a contradiction that would be comical if it weren't so consequential. The president's simultaneous moves to slash spending while maintaining the most bloated cabinet in Indonesian history isn't just an administrative curiosity; it's a symptom of a deeper democratic malaise. When civil servants are told that working in dark offices is an expression of patriotism while dozens of deputy ministers enjoy their new positions, we must question what kind of governance model is being constructed before our eyes.

The prescription for our current political constipation isn't simply more opposition for opposition's sake, nor is it blind acceptance of a government that speaks of efficiency while practicing excess. What Indonesia needs is a return to genuine democratic discourse—where budget cuts can be debated on their merits, where cabinet appointments serve governance rather than political accommodation, and where opposition isn't seen as an obstacle to be absorbed but as a vital component of democratic health. The risk we face isn't just fiscal inefficiency or administrative bloat; it's the gradual normalisation of a political system where consensus is manufactured through coalition-building rather than earned through debate and deliberation.

As Prabowo's government moves beyond its first 100 days, the true test won't be how much money it saves on electricity bills or how many civil servants it can fit into a sunlit room. The real challenge will be whether it can resolve the fundamental contradiction at its core: a government that grows larger while demanding others grow smaller, that preaches austerity while practicing excess, and that speaks of efficiency while embodying its opposite. Until then, Indonesia's democracy remains in an uncomfortable position—overfed but undernourished, expanding yet constrained, and desperately in need of the kind of political fiber that only genuine opposition can provide.