Serving the Nation, Safeguarding the Hopes of the People

A Prayer on the Birthday of the 8th President of the Republic of Indonesia, Prabowo Subianto

A birthday is not merely a marker of advancing years. It is a quiet space amid the bustle of life, in which a person looks back to take stock of the journey so far, and looks ahead with a wisdom that grows ever more mature. For most of us, we celebrate the occasion with family and friends. For a nation's leader, a birthday carries a wider meaning, because the years that pass come with the hopes of millions who have entrusted their future to him. On this joyful day, allow us to offer our congratulations and best wishes to the 8th President of the Republic of Indonesia, Prabowo Subianto, who turns 75 on 17 October.

The life of a leader is never easy. It is filled with challenges, trials, sacrifices and heavy responsibilities that demand courage and steadfastness of heart. No seat of leadership is entirely comfortable; behind it lie long nights spent weighing decisions, criticism that must be heard with a generous spirit, and difficult choices that must be made even when not everyone can be satisfied. At every stage in a nation's life, there emerges a figure who is trusted to carry the people's mandate and steer the country towards a better future. That trust is an honour, but it is also a burden that is far from light.

As President of the Republic of Indonesia, Prabowo Subianto bears a duty that is both noble and demanding. To lead a nation as vast as Indonesia, with its thousands of islands, hundreds of ethnic groups, many languages and differing faiths, means nurturing unity in diversity, striving for the welfare of the people, safeguarding the nation's sovereignty, and ensuring that the fruits of development are felt by every layer of society, from the great cities to the villages on the borders. Such a task cannot be accomplished by one person alone. It calls for cooperation among leaders, public servants, the business community, scholars and all the nation's children. For that reason, sincere support from the public is not an optional extra but part of the energy that drives the nation's journey forward.

On this birthday, we pray that Allah SWT will always grant the President good health, strength, wisdom and protection as he carries out the duties of state. May a healthy body and a tranquil heart accompany every step, so that the weight of great responsibility may be borne with clarity. May every step of service be guided by His direction, and may every decision taken benefit the people, the nation and the state. We also pray that, amid a crowded agenda and mounting demands, the President will always be surrounded by people who speak the truth honestly, and not merely by those who are skilled at pleasing him.

The hopes of the Indonesian people are, in truth, simple yet deeply noble: a more prosperous life, better-quality education, wider opportunities for the younger generation, and justice and prosperity that can be enjoyed by all. A farmer hopes that his harvest will be fairly valued. A teacher in a remote region hopes that her hard work will be noticed. A young person hopes for a job that will allow him to build a future in his own homeland. These hopes require hard work, determination and leadership capable of uniting the energy of the whole nation. They are also the reason why prayers and support are due to those who have been given the responsibility of fulfilling them.

Amid the dynamics of a democracy full of differing views, may the spirit of unity remain the chief foundation of national life. Differences of opinion are no threat to a mature nation; they are a sign that there is still room for the voice of the people. For Indonesia was not built on sameness alone, but on a willingness to join hands in diversity. Great leadership is not only about the ability to lead, but also about the ability to embrace: to embrace those who agree and those who differ, those who support and those who criticise, for the sake of a purpose greater than the interests of any one group. Support for a leader is most meaningful when it is accompanied by care, that is, the courage to offer a respectful reminder and the readiness to share in the work.

A birthday is also a reminder that office is a trust, whereas service is a legacy. Office comes and goes according to time and the constitution, but the mark left by service remains far longer in the nation's memory. In the end, history will judge not only what was said, but also what was done for the benefit of the people and the nation. The finest prayer for a leader, therefore, is that he may always be granted a generous heart to hear the voice of the people, the courage to uphold the truth, and the sincerity to devote himself to his country. These three things, namely an empathy to see and listen, a courage that does not waver and a sincerity that expects no reward, are the provisions that will keep a leadership on course, whatever storms may come.

To Mr President, we wish to offer a word of encouragement. Keep walking forward with conviction, for this nation needs a leader who is not easily shaken by pressure and who never tyres of seeking the best path for his people. When the burden feels heavy, remember that millions of prayers accompany you from every corner of the country: from mosques and prayer halls, churches and temples, from simple homes that hope tomorrow will be better. When criticism comes, may it be seen as a mirror that helps to straighten one's course. And when success is achieved, may it be shared with all the people who helped to bear the load.

Happy Birthday, my President. May the years that you add become a source of ever deeper wisdom, ever more mature experience, and an ever stronger spirit to lead Indonesia towards a future that is more advanced, sovereign, just and prosperous. Remain steadfast in service, strong in the face of challenges, and wise in leading the nation. May every effort made for beloved Indonesia become a righteous deed that brings benefit to this generation and to those who come after.

Age is a gift that counts out the journey of a life, but service is the mark that history will remember. The numbers will keep rising year after year, yet the good that is sown for the people will go on growing long after the lifetime of the one who sowed it. May Allah SWT always bless your life, your health and your leadership, for an Indonesia that is stronger, more prosperous and more dignified. Amen, O Lord of the Worlds.

Bahasa

When the Splash Comes Back: A Land That Loves to Remind Everyone

The row over Article 18(3) of KPU Regulation No. 19 of 2023 has lately stopped being merely a matter of documents and procedure. It has become an exchange of barbs between two men who once sat in very high chairs: Hasyim Asy’ari, the former chairman of the General Elections Commission (KPU), and Ahmad Doli Kurnia Tandjung, the former chairman of Commission II of the House of Representatives (DPR).

As reported, Hasyim rejected the accusation that a ‘smuggled-in article’ had found its way into the regulation. He insisted that the article in question was discussed and approved in an official forum attended by a variety of parties. From there came a sentence that quickly drew attention:

‘Forget if you must, but do not be a hypocrite.’

He even framed the remark with an allegory of the angels Munkar and Nakir, who, in Islamic tradition, question the dead in the grave. Here they were to ask who had attended, who had known, and who had agreed to the discussion of the draft regulation. Doli did not let it pass. He replied that the sentence was better aimed at Hasyim himself, alluding to his record as head of the KPU, questioning his appointment as a commissioner of a state-owned enterprise, and standing by his view that there was an article missing from the documents the DPR received at the time.

To political analysts, this may be nothing more than the usual argy-bargy of a noisy season. To a satirist, however, it calls to mind an old Malay proverb:

Menepuk air di dulang, terpercik muka sendiri.

Slap the water in the tray, and your own face gets splashed. English has a few cousins for this: people in glass houses should not throw stones; the pot calling the kettle black; spitting into the wind. Yet none of them quite captures the splash itself, which is why this piece borrows its title from the splash.

This article, of course, has no intention of playing judge. Who is right about the article in question is a matter for documents, witnesses and the bodies competent to weigh them. All that follows concerns a fairy-tale country, which happens to be called the Land of the Basin, and whose inhabitants may bear a passing resemblance to the rest of us.

Once upon a time, in a land that held its archives in the highest esteem, there lived two kinds of people.

The first kind liked to carry folders. Their folders were thick, tied with ribbon, and carried with the chin held slightly high, as though the contents were holy scripture. The second kind liked to carry mirrors. Their mirrors were clear, framed in gold, and always pointed at somebody else’s face, as though their own had long ago been cleared of all inspection.

Whenever a dispute broke out, the folder-bearers would cry:

‘Look at this document!’

And the mirror-bearers would retort:

‘Look at yourself!’

What followed was a marvellous spectacle. One side busily turned over sheets of paper. The other busily turned over chapters of the past. Attendance lists were examined, minutes were thumbed through, initials were scrutinised under magnifying glasses, and, in between, somebody’s life story was dragged out of its drawer like a cat made to perform on stage. Nobody wished to lose. Nobody wished to forget. And, most intriguing of all, both sides claimed to be doing nothing more than reminding.

In the Land of the Basin, reminding is the national sport. Its rules are rather peculiar, however: one may remind anybody at all, provided it is not oneself. Even the questions said to be put in the grave had been paid off in instalments, starting in the meeting room. Who attended? Who knew? Who agreed? The angels, people said, no longer needed to work so hard. They only had to wait for the humans to hold the dress rehearsal.

Gradually, the onlookers grew confused. At first they were invited to examine an article. Then they were invited to examine a signature. Then they were invited to examine a curriculum vitae. Soon afterwards, they were invited to examine a job title. The people who had come to watch one clause being inspected went home with notes on everything except that clause.

The quarrel grew like a banyan tree. The root of the matter lay deep underground, while its branches stretched in every direction, sheltering anyone who wished to stand in the shade while throwing stones at the opposite side.

Amid all this commotion, the archive sat quietly.

It did not campaign. It did not argue. It did not take sides. It had no spokesperson, no social media account, and never once demanded a right of reply. It simply waited.

For the archive understood something that humans never seem to grasp. People change. Interests change. Positions change. Enemies change. Friends change. Opinions change too, depending on which chair one happens to be sitting in when asked. But dried ink, as a rule, does not change along with them.

Sitting beside the archive was a mirror. The two were really rather alike. Both said very little. Both were hard to compromise with. Both were quite immune to flattery. There was only one difference. The archive shows what was done. The mirror shows who did it.

That is why people often fear the mirror more than the archive. Paper can be filed away, declared lost, or said to be still under review. A face is much harder to leave in storage.

One day, a wise man in that land remarked:

‘How odd. When someone opens another person’s archive, he forgets that the other person also keeps an archive about him.’

Another replied:

‘And when someone holds up a mirror to his opponent, he forgets that the back of the mirror is still facing him.’

They laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was true. It was a short laugh, for both of them knew that someone in the corner was taking notes.

Such was life in the Land of the Basin. There, everybody loved to slap the water. They slapped it with accusations. They slapped it with documents. They slapped it with track records. They slapped it with barbs wrapped in allegory, so that they sounded more pious than mere barbs.

And every time a palm struck the surface, the splash flew everywhere. Some landed on the opponent. Some landed on the spectators, who went home with wet clothes and no idea what they had done wrong. But curiously, some always came back to the face of the one who had slapped.

For water has a quality that no rhetoric can defeat: it reflects. It does not read speeches. It does not care who used to chair what. It cannot be persuaded to negotiate over who is allowed to be splashed. And in its reflection, humans sometimes find what they never found in the committee room or in the minutes: the opponent who is hardest of all to argue with.

Themselves.

Bahasa