Commentary | Norman Joshua, The Ghosts of Past Autocrats in Prabowo’s Indonesia?
On October 20, 2024, Indonesia inaugurated its new president and vice-president, Prabowo Subianto and Gibran Rakabuming Raka. Many experts have raised concerns among experts who view it as a signal towards further democratic erosion in a country already marked by a flawed democracy. Numerous analyses have examined how the previous administration under President Joko Widodo (Jokowi) have weakened Indonesia’s democratic institutions while entrenching dynastic politics. The election of Prabowo—a retired Army special forces commander with a tainted human rights record who is also the former son-in-law of long-time authoritarian leader Suharto)—alongside with Gibran, Jokowi’s eldest son, have fueled fears that Prabowo’s presidency could mark the end of Indonesia’s post-authoritarian reform era (Reformasi) and signal a return to autocratic governance. Others, however, take a more optimistic view, suggesting that Indonesia’s fragmented political landscape, dispersed power structures, and short political memory may curb Prabowo’s ability to consolidate autocratic control, thus contributing to the nation’s democratic resilience.
One way to predict Indonesia’s future under Prabowo is to compare his current plans and actions to those of past leaders, potentially uncovering patterns that hint at the nation’s political trajectory. This essay suggests that Prabowo seems to draw inspiration from both Sukarno and Suharto’s administrations, aligning with what political scientist Herbert Feith has described as “solidarity-making” politics. Politicians often look to the past for guidance, and Prabowo—who calls himself “an avid student of history”—is no exception. During one of his Gerindra party assemblies, his followers often referred to him as “the new Sukarno,” a moniker Prabowo seems to wholly embrace. In his public appearances, Prabowo frequently channels “Sukarno-esque” aesthetics, such as wearing a safari suit, black peci, and sunglasses. He also often ends his speeches, including his October inauguration address, with the spirited exclamation of “Merdeka!” (Indonesian for freedom) just as Sukarno often did.
While symbolism plays a significant role in understanding politics—especially in a society like Indonesia, where performative acts hold high value—Prabowo’s obsession with historical mimesis is evident not only in his imagery but also in his policies. Four key aspects illustrate this pattern: his victory over the support of a broad-based coalition, a revival of populist policies, a return of the military in non-military affairs, and a more assertive foreign policy that was still based on the country’s tradition of non-alignment. While some of these policies may be commendable, they also prompt crucial questions about the future of Indonesia’s economy, its international role, and most importantly, its democracy.
The Return of Solidarity-Making Politics: Strength in Unity or Risk to Pluralism?
For those who observed the Indonesian elections closely, one of the most striking aspects of Prabowo’s rise has been his ascent through a broad-based political alliance that includes nearly all major parties in Indonesia’s parliament—such as Golkar, Nasdem, PKB, PKS, PAN, Partai Demokrat, and his own Gerindra party. Former president Megawati’s Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P) remains the only significant party outside of his coalition. This alignment indicates a potential future with limited, if any, meaningful parliamentary opposition.
A broad political coalition, however, demands political reciprocity. To accommodate this diverse group of backers, Prabowo expanded the executive branch, increasing Jokowi’s already sizeable cabinet of 34 ministries to 48. Prabowo’s cabinet now comprises 136 ministers, deputy ministers, heads of state agencies, and various advisors, many of whom are political appointees from Jokowi’s administration or Prabowo’s own close allies. Critics have raised concerns that Prabowo’s “solidarity-making” approach could lead to abuses of power and warned how an inflated executive branch could place undue strain on Indonesia’s delicate fiscal balance. Ironically, Prabowo’s announcement came just months after he advocated for the creation of a zakenkabinet (a Dutch term for a technocratic, non-political cabinet). Of course, this vision remains an unfulfilled promise.
Echoing Sukarno, Prabowo has often expressed skepticism towards the complexities of maintaining a democracy. In March, he commented that “democracy is really, very, very tiring; it is messy and costly.” He lambasted the concept of a political opposition as anathema to Indonesian political culture, advocating instead for “cooperation” and “collaboration.” During his presidential inauguration speech in October, Prabowo called for a democracy that is unique to Indonesia, rooted in the nation’s history and culture—a “polite democracy,” where differences of opinion do not lead to hostility.
Seasoned observers of Indonesian politics will recognize that the idea of a “democracy unique to Indonesia” is not new; it is an homage to Sukarno’s concept of “Guided Democracy.” This authoritarian political system was Sukarno’s response to the political crises of the 1950s, when a divided parliament and regional rebellions prompted him to bypass traditional political channels. Under the purview of martial law, Sukarno established a zakenkabinet (!)—an extra-parliamentary body of experts, led by himself and technocrat Djuanda. Guided Democracy was intended to reflect Indonesia’s character and spirit more faithfully, which Sukarno felt was dominated by the political infighting among party elites. As we know from hindsight, however, Sukarno’s experiment failed as it ultimately led to democratic backsliding and economic mismanagement, culminating in an even larger political crisis in 1965 that paved the way for Suharto’s military authoritarianism. One could only guess whether Prabowo’s approach in political solidarity-making will lead to the same outcome any time soon.
Prabowo’s Populist Policies: A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing?
On the domestic front, Prabowo’s platform is shaped by populist policies aimed at poverty alleviation. His flagship nationwide nutritional supplement program (makan bergizi) targets 82 million Indonesians, including schoolchildren, toddlers, and expectant mothers. Additionally, he has pledged to build three million houses annually over the next five years to tackle housing shortages, funded by a compulsory home savings scheme known as Tapera.
Again, these initiatives are not new for Indonesia. Successive governments since independence have sought to improve public nutrition, most notably through the Suharto-era campaign of Empat Sehat Lima Sempurna (four basic foods, plus milk, for health).[1] Similarly, the state have also experimented with public housing program since the Sukarno era, beginning with the Jajasan Perumahan Rakjat (People’s Housing Foundation).[2]
While Prabowo’s flagship programs aim to improve the health and livelihoods of Indonesia’s most vulnerable citizens, critics have voiced concerns about the financial risks associated with these programs. International observers have expressed apprehension over the financial burden of these initiatives, with the nutrition supplement program alone projected to cost 71 trillion rupiah (approx. $4.35 billion) in 2025. Meanwhile, the new planned compulsory home savings scheme has been criticized as it poses additional strains to the livelihoods of Indonesian workers and employees, which is significant considering the country is grappling with a declining middle-class.
The feasibility of efficiently conducting a mass nutrition supplement program such as Prabowo’s makan bergizi program, are also questionable at best. Unlike India, which has managed to implement a large-scale nutrition program with relative success, Indonesia remains far from achieving self-sufficiency in food production. Prabowo’s experimental food estates, such as those in Kalimantan and West Papua, have yet to provide viable results, thus leaving the program vulnerable to global supply chain fluctuations for quite some time.
Lastly, populist programs such as the nutrition supplement and housing programs also carry significant risks of fiscal mismanagement and corruption. Indonesia’s national food agency Badan Urusan Logistik (Bulog) has been a much-abused vehicle for funding corruption. The Buloggate and Taperumgate scandals of the 2000s, which implicated former Golkar politician Akbar Tandjung and former president Abdurrahman Wahid, reminds us how state-led food and housing initiatives in Indonesia often fall prey corruption and mismanagement.[3]
This raises questions about the sustainability of Prabowo’s populist programs. If mismanaged, these policies could lead to rising fiscal deficits and creeping inflation—reminiscent of the economic chaos of Sukarno’s Guided Democracy era. To be sure, the return of technocrat Finance Minister Sri Mulyani Indrawati in the cabinet offers a semblance of stability. However, whether her technocratic expertise will be able to withstand Prabowo’s populist pressures remains to be seen.
Militarism Redux: From Dwifungsi to Multifungsi
One of the key achievements of the post-1998 reforms era was the retreat of the military from politics. During much of the post-Suharto period, the military’s role in non-military affairs was largely confined to humanitarian and disaster relief activities. However, remnants of the New Order’s military-administrative apparatus persisted. Military civic action programs like the “Army Goes to the Villages” (ABRI Masuk Desa) remained as the TNI Manunggal Masuk Desa, a smaller but still visible part of the Army’s framework of participating in rural development.
Under Prabowo’s leadership, we are witnessing a gradual expansion of the military’s influence in civil affairs. His campaign was rooted in a platform of security, asserting that economic progress must be intertwined with national defense and security. This agenda was symbolically launched through a highly publicized and unconventional opening act, which The Economist described as a “bizarre initiation ritual for Indonesia’s cabinet.” The event—a military-style bootcamp for cabinet ministers, complete with Army fatigues, combat boots, and morning drills—took place at the nation’s Military Academy in Magelang, Central Java. During the bootcamp, Prabowo underscored the importance of what he termed as “the military way,” emphasizing discipline and unwavering loyalty to the nation and state.
The military’s gradual reentry into non-military roles—a tenet once so central to Suharto’s New Order regime—is gaining momentum under Prabowo. The Indonesian Army’s territorial system, a vestige of the New Order, has been mobilized and repurposed to support civilian programs, such as the free lunch program, through the construction of public kitchens. Prabowo also established a new type of multi-role infantry battalion to engage in internal security operations and state-sponsored developmental projects. According to Defense Minister Sjafrie Sjamsoeddin, the TNI is projected to deploy at least one hundred of these so-called “territorial development battalions” to assist with agricultural, livestock farming, fisheries, and health efforts across the nation. Early this November, at least the first several hundred troops from these territorial development battalions were deployed to Merauke, West Papua, most likely to bolster and safeguard the controversial Food Estate project in the region.
These developments add to the longstanding controversy over the participation of active-duty and retired military and police officers in civilian roles—a contentious issue that Prabowo inherited from Jokowi. According to the research group Laboratorium Indonesia Emas 2045, there were 2,569 active-duty officers sitting in various civilian positions during Jokowi’s tenure. This trend only expanded under Prabowo. Out of the 136 ministers, deputies, and agency heads in Prabowo’s Red and White cabinet, at least twenty-four are former and active officers from the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Police, thus signifying a significant militarization of the executive branch. Meanwhile, the parliament continues to deliberate the revision to Law No.34 of 2004 on the military, which has raised concerns from civil rights groups, who warned that the proposed changes could further facilitate the placement of more active-duty officers in civilian positions, potentially further undermining democratic oversight and civilian control.
The return of militarism was also reflected not only in Prabowo’s administrative policies, but also in engaging with the masses. During his tenure as Jokowi’s Defense Minister in 2021, Prabowo expanded the controversial Bela Negara indoctrination program into a full-scale reservist component. These reservists, trained in state ideology and military skills, occupy a hybrid space between civilian and military roles. In September 2024, Prabowo deployed five hundred of these newly inaugurated reservists to the new capital Nusantara, prompting concerns from civil rights groups such as KontraS, who warned that such deployments could exacerbate violence and social conflicts, especially as they are often tasked with addressing “internal threats.”
This militaristic trajectory is not new to Indonesia. A similar pattern emerged during Sukarno’s Guided Democracy in the 1960s. At the time, Sukarno’s assertive foreign policy unfolded into a de facto state of war—first against the Dutch in West Papua (1960-1962), and later against the British and Malaysians in the Malayan Peninsula and North Borneo (1963-1966). During this period, with Sukarno’s endorsement, the Army initiated the sukarelawan program, a mass mobilization effort to train civil servants, university students, and youth groups in a military fashion. The continuous de facto state of war during Guided Democracy also fostered a “martial approach” to everyday life, with civilian figures adopting military norms, including uniforms, ranks, and institutional nomenclature. This pattern of quotidian militarization was the norm in Sukarno’s Indonesia, subtly conditioning society for the emergence of Suharto’s military authoritarian rule in 1966.
To be sure, Prabowo has also shown a strong commitment to military modernization, signing agreements with France, Italy, and the United States to purchase fighter jets, submarines, and frigates as part of a $125 billion arms program. In this regard, Prabowo’s approach mirrors Sukarno’s emphasis on military mobilization and modernization during his anti-imperialist campaigns. While the expansion of the military’s role in civil affairs may provide logistical support for Prabowo’s populist policies, it raises salient concerns on the return of military overreach—an issue that Indonesians have long grappled with under Suharto’s New Order regime.
Indonesia and the World: Procedural Shifts or Substantive Change?
During his inaugural speech in October, Prabowo outlined his vision of a “good neighbor foreign policy,” reaffirming Indonesia’s traditional position as a free and active non-aligned country. Yet he also invoked strong terms such as “anti-colonialism,” “anti-repression,” “anti-racism,” and “anti-apartheid,” emphasizing Indonesia’s solidarity with Palestine.
Many analysts have speculated that Prabowo’s presidency will bring a significant shift in Indonesian foreign policy, with some arguing that he will adopt a more assertive and independent stance on the global stage. Rizal Sukma, for instance, believes Prabowo will leverage his influence to strengthen Indonesia’s role as a non-aligned middle power, particularly in balancing China’s growing influence. Others, like former Foreign Minister Marty Natalegawa, contend that while Prabowo may bring new foreign policy approaches through its more personalist style, Indonesia’s core non-alignment strategy will remain intact.
Most notable among Prabowo’s foreign policy appointments is his selection of Sugiono, a longtime protégé and Gerindra party loyalist, to head the Foreign Ministry. This choice marks a departure from established norms, signaling Prabowo’s intent to have a direct hand in shaping Indonesia’s diplomacy. Meanwhile, his other appointments reflect a strategic emphasis on the Middle East and Europe. Anis Matta, chairman of the Gelora party, has been appointed as one of three deputy ministers tasked with handling relations with Middle Eastern countries, particularly regarding the Palestine issue. The other two deputies—Armanatha Christiawan Nasir (former ambassador to the UN and France) and Arif Havas Oegroseno (former ambassador to Germany) seem to bring their extensive diplomatic experience, especially in managing trade disputes with the European Union.
Prabowo’s personalized approach to foreign policy raises uncertainties, particularly in managing Indonesia’s position amid the US-China rivalry. One recent example was Indonesia’s unexpected decision to become a BRICS partner at the organization’s summit in Kazan, Russia, last October. Even more controversial was the signing of a “joint development agreement” with China in the disputed South China Sea, implicitly acknowledging China’s nine-dash line claim—a claim that was deemed illegal by the South China Sea Tribunal in 2016.
Here again, it seems that Prabowo appears to be taking a page from Sukarno’s playbook, whose assertive, anti-Western foreign policy drew the country closer to China and North Korea, forming the so-called Jakarta-Peking-Pyongyang axis in 1965. Only time will tell, how this renewed approach to foreign policy will impact Indonesia’s relationships with its ASEAN and Western partners.
Conclusion
Indonesia stands at a critical juncture as it navigates the leadership of Prabowo Subianto, a figure whose presidency embodies both historical nostalgia and forward-looking ambitions. With his blend of welfare populism, a resurgent military, and personalist diplomacy, Prabowo appears to be drawing heavily from the playbooks of Sukarno and Suharto. His emphasis on unity and discipline, underscored by his “solidarity-making” approach, may help consolidate power in the short term. However, the long-term implications of such strategies—whether they reinvigorate or erode Indonesia’s democracy—remains uncertain.
The duality of Prabowo’s administration lies in its ambition to blend procedural shifts with substantive change. From the expansion of military involvement in civilian affairs to launching ambitious populist programs, the incoming government is seeking to reshape the mechanisms of Indonesia’s sociopolitical landscape. While his initiatives may address pressing issues like poverty and housing shortages, they also risk overreach, inefficiency, and corruption. Left unchecked, these policies could place undue strain on Indonesia’s fiscal health and democratic institutions.
Prabowo’s approach to foreign policy further underscores this tension between aspiration and risk. His assertive and personalist approach reflects Indonesia’s tradition of non-alignment while also introducing new uncertainties, particularly in managing the complex dynamics of US-China rivalry. Decisions like joining BRICS and signing agreements with China in disputed territories signal a subtle yet decisive shift in Indonesia’s diplomatic posture, potentially at the detriment of Indonesia’s relationship with regional and global partners such as those in ASEAN and the West. While these moves may temporarily enhance Indonesia’s global standing, it contains the risks of alienating key partners and undermine regional stability.
As Prabowo assumes the presidency, echoes of Indonesia’s past loom large. His leadership draws heavily on the symbolism and strategies of both Sukarno and Suharto, suggesting that this administration may incorporate legacies of both eras. While certain aspects of Prabowo’s strategy—such as his welfare initiatives and foreign policy overtures—hold the potential to deliver tangible benefits to ordinary Indonesians, they also pose significant risks to the nation’s democracy, economic stability, and global standing.
The prospects for positive change under Prabowo are substantial, but so are the risks of further democratic backsliding. Ultimately, the trajectory of his administration will depend not only on the substance of his policies but also on the vigilance and engagement of Indonesia’s civil society, political opposition, and international stakeholders. Whether Indonesia will resurrect the ghosts of past autocrats or carve out a new path for the future remains to be seen.
[1] Vivek Neelakantan, “Health and Medicine in Soekarno Era Indonesia: Social Medicine, Public Health and Medical Education, 1949-1967” (PhD Thesis, Sydney, University of Sydney, 2014), 246.
[2] Freek Colombijn, “Public Housing in Post-Colonial Indonesia: The Revolution of Rising Expectations,” Bijdragen Tot de Taal-, Land- En Volkenkunde 167, no. 4 (2011): 437–58.
[3] Mary McCoy, Scandal and Democracy: Media Politics in Indonesia (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 20190315), 124–25.
Norman Joshua is a research fellow at the Hoover Institution, Stanford University. His scholarship centers on the histories of authoritarianism and civil-military relations in Southeast Asia. He obtained his PhD in history from Northwestern University, where he was also an EDGS Arryman Scholar at the Buffett Institute for Global Affairs and an HFG Emerging Scholar at the Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation."
To cite this essay, please use the bibliographic entry suggested below:
Norman Joshua, “The Ghosts of Past Autocrats in Prabowo’s Indonesia?,” criticalasianstudies.org Commentary Board, 12/26/2024; https://doi.org/10.52698/SFZQ8247.