“My struggle against the colonizers was easier than yours will be. Yours will be far more difficult because you will be fighting your own people.”
– Dr. Mohammad Hatta
As Indonesia celebrates its 80th year of independence in August 2025, President Prabowo Subianto delivered his first Independence State Speech presenting what he called a vision of “Demokrasi Khas Indonesia”—a uniquely Indonesian democracy rooted in local traditions of gotong royong (mutual cooperation) and asas kekeluargaan (familialism). His rhetoric struck an inclusive tone, referencing the legacies of past presidents and calling for unity over division.
On the surface, this message seems noble. But history demands we ask deeper, harder questions. What does this so-called “Indonesian-style democracy” really mean in practice? And more importantly—who benefits from it?
Because if history has taught us anything, it’s this: the danger of democracy in Indonesia has never been its lack of values. The danger lies in how these values have been weaponized by the powerful—to silence dissent, concentrate wealth, and delegitimize opposition under the banner of unity.
The Repackaging of Power
President Prabowo’s emphasis on “standing on our own feet” economically, reducing poverty, and achieving food sovereignty echoes earlier nationalist rhetoric. Yet, these same ideas were used—nearly word-for-word—by Sukarno’s Guided Democracy and Suharto’s Pancasila Democracy. Both regimes packaged authoritarian control under the romanticized language of “Indonesian culture,” turning collectivist values into instruments of political consolidation.
Under Sukarno, democratic institutions were suspended. Under Suharto, elections became rubber stamps, and the Parliament became little more than a showpiece for legitimacy. Both leaders invoked national unity, familialism, and harmony—while systematically dismantling democratic safeguards and suppressing dissent.
Prabowo’s rhetorical nod to these same traditions—absent critical self-reflection—raises legitimate concerns that his “Indonesian-style democracy” may be less about participatory governance and more about centralizing power in culturally palatable terms.
Familiar Rhetoric, Familiar Risks
It’s easy to romanticize values like gotong royong and kekeluargaan. But in the hands of political elites, these terms become malleable. They have often been used not to empower citizens—but to discredit individual rights and normalize state dominance.
This is not theoretical. We’ve seen it play out repeatedly:
- Under Soeharto, “family” became a metaphor for a tightly controlled patronage network.
- Corruption wasn’t individual—it was collective. “Gotong royong” became “korupsi berjamaah” (collaborative corruption).
- Power didn’t serve the people—it was hoarded by those closest to the presidential circle, behind a façade of harmony.
Are we now witnessing a revival of this model?
The Integral State Revisited
The intellectual roots of this dilemma can be traced to Soepomo’s idea of the “Integralistik State”—a vision proposed in 1945 during Indonesia’s constitutional deliberations. Drawing on European thinkers like Hegel and Spinoza, Soepomo imagined a state in which individual rights were subordinated to the unity of the nation. In this model, the state did not exist to protect individuals, but to absorb them into a greater whole.
Thankfully, his vision was rejected by most independence-era leaders. They had just survived World War II. They saw how similar ideas had given rise to totalitarian regimes in Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy. Yet, decades later, Soepomo’s concept was revived under Suharto’s New Order—this time labeled “Pancasila Democracy.”
That model lasted 32 years—and ended in economic collapse, social unrest, and mass human rights abuses.
Today, invoking a “democracy unique to Indonesia” without acknowledging this history is not just naive—it is politically dangerous.
Misusing “Local Wisdom”
Political elites have long shielded themselves using the language of “local wisdom.” But there’s a difference between honoring cultural values and using them to legitimize unchecked authority. Invoking indigenous traditions while ignoring institutional checks and balances isn’t democracy—it’s soft authoritarianism in nationalist wrapping.
Even in contemporary Indonesia, we see “raja kecil” (little kings) emerging in local governments, where power is treated like hereditary privilege. Elections exist, yes—but the culture of familialism means political dynasties flourish, public accountability erodes, and citizens become clients rather than empowered participants.
“Local values” become a justification for the persistence of feudal logics in a democratic age.
The Illusion of Unity
Unity is a noble aspiration—but when it becomes a political instrument, it turns toxic. Unity, when invoked to delegitimize dissent, is no longer democratic. It becomes coercive conformity.
In this context, President Prabowo’s message of inclusiveness—while rhetorically appealing—requires scrutiny. Can we trust calls for unity from a political structure that still tolerates elite collusion, widespread patronage, and selective law enforcement? Is “kekeluargaan” truly a principle of fairness, or merely a code for insider access?
History shows us that the illusion of harmony has too often masked systemic inequality and elite capture.
A True Democracy Requires Conflict
Real democracy is not conflict-free. In fact, healthy conflict is a sign of democratic vitality. It is through disagreement, accountability, and institutional resistance that democracy survives. When leaders label criticism as unpatriotic or “against the family,” they are not defending democracy—they are hollowing it out.
A democracy worth the name must adhere to minimum standards: independent institutions, separation of powers, press freedom, and citizen oversight. Elections are not enough. Sovereignty must reside with the people—not in charismatic individuals or ideological constructs of “national unity.”
As Lord Acton warned, “Power tends to corrupt.” But in Indonesia’s context, Hatta’s warning is more urgent: the greatest danger now comes not from colonial powers, but from those within the nation who speak the language of liberation while practicing domination.
Final Thoughts: Between Hope and Vigilance
There is nothing inherently wrong with the President’s vision. But its success depends entirely on how it is implemented, and whether it learns from the many failures of Indonesia’s political past. Narratives alone will not feed the hungry, nor liberate the poor, nor protect the vulnerable. For that, we need institutions that work, leaders who are accountable, and a citizenry that refuses to be pacified by slogans.
True independence—economic, political, and moral—requires a break from inherited abuses, not their reinvention under new names.
So on this 80th year of Indonesian independence, let us not only celebrate. Let us also remember. And more importantly, let us stay vigilant.
Because history has shown that the most persistent enemies of freedom are often those who speak most eloquently in its name.
Dirgahayu Republik Indonesia. May our next chapter be built not on romantic myths—but on democratic substance.
