Indonesia Protests Over Lawmakers’ Perks: Public Fury Over Perks Exposes Deeper Cracks in Trust and Governance

Jakarta's streets are a canvas of anger simmering just below the surface. Over the past few days, what should have been a protest against a parliamentary perk has snowballed into a national uprising, a visceral eruption of public anger against an elite class deemed distant, disconnected from the reality of the world, corrupt and unaccountable. The imagery is at once familiar and disconcerting: students, workers, and others congregate peacefully, only to quickly transform into a violent confrontation. 

Illustration by The Geostrata

The death of motorcycle taxi driver Affan Kurniawan at the rear wheels of a police vehicle drew media headlines, but there is a layered meaning to this accident. Kurniawan's tragic death served to rally student protesters and surround him with a significance beyond himself: a flashing red light surrounding the impact of a police car's wheels and the catalyst for a deeper, systemic crisis experience underpinning this event. 

The demonstrations currently unfolding are not just vignettes of a crisis; they are the embodiment of an awakening reckoning for Indonesia's democratic development, re-animating the ghosts of amnesia towards its undelivered new beginnings.

THE TIPPING POINT: HOW PEACEFUL PROTEST TURNED VIOLENT

Undercurrents of public discontent had been flowing for months as a result of both economic distress and political insensitivity. Although Indonesia's GDP growth remains fairly stable, many remain skeptical that the GDP figure reflects the realities of community life. Because of the cost-of-living crisis, poor wage growth, and declining middle-class population, households across the archipelago are struggling.

Against this backdrop, the House of Representatives made the decision to give its members a housing allowance of over $3,000 per month, 10 times the nation’s minimum wage. 

The video that went viral of Indonesian politicians laughing and dancing on the announcement of increased housing allowance was the last straw. The first protests on August 25 were predominantly peaceful, led by students and labour unions, and consisted mainly of signs, speeches, and calls to remove the housing allowance. Although the government initially attempted to downplay the situation and continue with its decision, serious political miscalculation, which would cost the Indonesian government credibility and would unfold the tragic turn of events for its democracy.

On August 28, as police were trying to crack down on protestors, a police tactical vehicle ran over and killed Affan Kurniawan. The video of the incident went viral, and turned Affan into a national martyr from an anonymous victim. The feelings of injustice were felt nationwide, and the event took a personal toll on the movement. From that point, this one act of police brutality became its emotional pinnacle and pushed the movement far beyond its initial demands.

Following Affan's death, the protests turned violent. Anger turned to anarchy as people in Makassar and Surabaya began burning government buildings and pillaging the homes of politicians. This aggressive targeting of both public-owned facilities and private homes was a clear indication of a civil disobedience that had gone beyond symbolic protest to outright rebellion against all symbols of national power.

The government responded quickly, conceding some demands, for example, by suspending the allowance that was originally the motivation for the protests, and then this violence revealed a serious chasm between the governed and the otherwise; the people's representatives were now under siege.

A CRISIS OF TRUST: THE DEEPER CRACKS IN GOVERNANCE

The parliamentary allowances were not simply a matter of money; they were essentially a symbolic insult. In a country with millions struggling, nothing exposes the arrogance and disengagement of lawmakers from reality than giving themselves lavish payments. This is not just an isolated incident, but the latest in a series of attacks on public trust. It provides a sign of a broader disillusionment with the political system itself.

In recent years, public trust in the Indonesian institutions has eroded significantly. The weakening of the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK), which was once a beacon of hope in the fight against corruption, and the overreach of the military into civilian affairs, compounded this notion that the democratic climb has just slipped back.

The sense that has been built up over years is compounded by a political system that is plagued by a "collusive power-sharing" model.

Essentially, instead of true opposition, political rivals are often co-opted into post-election power-sharing arrangements to share not just power but the spoils of government. As a result, the political crisis has created an "accountability deficit," severely limiting the accountability of elected officials who are not effectively accountable to the people they claim to serve.

ECHOES OF '98: HISTORY'S FAMILIAR RHYME

It is necessary to reflect on May 1998, a turning point that profoundly altered contemporary Indonesia, in order to comprehend the scope of the current turmoil. The nation was thrown into economic chaos by the Asian Financial Crisis, which led to widespread food shortages and enormous layoffs. Anger over President Suharto's three decades of autocratic leadership, the corruption in his family, and the widespread nepotism had escalated.

Suharto resigned as a result of the nationwide protests that were sparked by the unfortunate deaths of four students at Trisakti University by security forces. There is no denying the unsettling similarities between 1998 and the present. A pervasive economic resentment plagues both periods.

In 1998, the social contract was broken by the financial catastrophe; today, it is the ongoing reality of the masses' economic stagnation combined with the political elite's ostentatious consumerism. The Trisakti shootings in the past and the death of Affan Kurniawan in the present were both instances of state violence against the citizenry. The nature of the protest movement itself, however, makes a significant difference.

The present protests are more focused on systemic reform and accountability than the 1998 riots, which were linked to a particular political shift and regrettably included anti-Chinese violence. 

Digitally savvy, the new generation of activists uses social media to organize and spread information. They create powerful viral symbols, such as "Hero Green" for delivery workers and "Brave Pink" for demonstrators, to contradict the government's narrative.

A CHALLENGE TO THE STATUS QUO

The protests in Indonesia pose a significant threat to the political establishment, which has reigned for decades. The demands of the protestors go far beyond the original outrage over the housing allowance. The protestors are fundamentally requesting that the Indonesian government deal with some of the structural conditions of the state. They want police and military reform, an end to police brutality, and to curb military interference in civilian affairs. This demand stems from the erosion of people’s trust in public institutions.

Moreover, they want economic justice, not just to have the housing perk eliminated, but they want comprehensive responses to the cost-of-living crisis, such as more earnings and an end to austerity measures affecting people at the bottom. The most radical demand is political reform. The protestors want Parliament dissolved, which they consider to be a place only for the president to rubber-stamp his authority, as well as a play area for the elite.

President Prabowo Subianto's government has resorted to a mixture of responses. It made a prompt, narrow concession by eliminating the parliamentary perk, which was intended to appease popular anger. But it has also taken a hard line against the violence by creating layers of security and warning police that protestors were committing "treason." By appearing both conciliatory and aggressive, the central task of the Indonesian government remains- safeguarding the contested system while also defusing escalating unrest.

The current unrest is not some random or spontaneous eruption; it is instead the culmination of years of frustration that has now reached a boiling point.

It is a critical juncture for Indonesia's young democracy, showing that the way of governance and politics that was common in prior decades is no longer viable. Whether this becomes a moment in history that brings about change and reform, or whether it takes Indonesia back to a more repressive state, is something that needs to be observed. What is clear is that Indonesia's unfinished revolution has been given a jump start, and there is a new generation willing to fight for a just and accountable future.

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BY DIYA SHELKE

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