Indonesia’s Reformasi of 1998, culminating in President Suharto's resignation after three decades in power, was a profound example of people-powered change triggered by economic crisis, public dissent, and a growing demand for democracy. This type of political upheaval is not unique to Indonesia. Throughout modern history, other nations have experienced similar waves of reform and regime change, often driven by the people’s refusal to continue living under authoritarian rule. One of the most widely studied parallels is the People Power Revolution in the Philippines in 1986. This movement led to the ousting of President Ferdinand Marcos, who had ruled under martial law and a regime marred by corruption and suppression of dissent. Like Indonesia, the Philippines experienced a groundswell of public protest, with millions gathering in the streets of Manila demanding change. The revolution was nonviolent and relied heavily on civil resistance, media, and even the support of military segments.
Another comparable wave of reform occurred in Eastern Europe in 1989, often referred to as the Autumn of Nations. Countries like Poland, Czechoslovakia, East Germany, and Romania saw the collapse of communist regimes within a remarkably short period. In Czechoslovakia, for example, the Velvet Revolution was a peaceful protest movement led by students and intellectuals that led to the resignation of the communist government and a transition to democracy. Much like in Indonesia, the movement was sparked by economic hardship, state repression, and a growing civil society that refused to be silenced.
More recently, in 2011, the world witnessed the Arab Spring, a wave of uprisings across the Middle East and North Africa that sought to overthrow long-standing dictatorships. In Tunisia, protests led to the fall of President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, and in Egypt, massive demonstrations in Tahrir Square forced President Hosni Mubarak to step down after nearly 30 years in power. These movements were also born from frustration with inequality, unemployment, and political repression—echoes of what Indonesians experienced in the lead-up to Reformasi.
Even South Korea’s democratisation in the late 1980s bears similarity to Indonesia’s path. After decades of military rule, student-led protests in 1987 demanded direct presidential elections and democratic reforms. The government eventually conceded, and South Korea transitioned toward a more open and democratic system. As in Indonesia, civil society played a key role, and the reform was not just about changing leaders—it was about transforming systems of governance.
These global stories reveal a common thread: when authoritarianism collides with economic collapse, youth-led activism, and growing public consciousness, a tipping point is often reached. Indonesia’s Reformasi was part of this broader historical pattern, where people, through persistence and unity, reclaim their voice and reshape their nations’ destinies.
The difference between "reform" and "revolution" lies not only in the scale and method of change, but also in the intention behind each movement, the actors involved, and the outcomes they seek.
Who drives a reform and a revolution often overlaps, but with key differences. Reforms are typically led by institutional actors, civil society groups, or political movements working within the system. These might include students, labour unions, religious groups, or even moderate elements within the government itself. Revolutions, on the other hand, are often sparked by the masses but carried through by more radical or oppositional forces—sometimes including military factions or underground resistance groups—who are actively seeking to dismantle the existing power structure.
What each aims to achieve is fundamentally different. Reform seeks to improve or adjust the current system—like changing laws, policies, or leadership—without completely overthrowing the structure itself. Revolution, in contrast, seeks to overturn the existing regime or system entirely, often replacing it with something fundamentally different, whether that be a new political ideology, a new ruling class, or a whole new state apparatus.
When these movements arise also reveals their character. Reforms often emerge in times of public pressure and growing dissatisfaction, but usually before the state has completely collapsed. They happen when there is still enough structure and stability to allow gradual change. Revolutions tend to explode during deep crisis—economic collapse, military defeat, extreme oppression—when the old order is already crumbling and radical change seems inevitable or necessary.
Where reform and revolution happen often overlaps geographically, but context matters. A reform might happen in a relatively stable country that is trying to become more democratic or inclusive, like Indonesia in 1998 or South Korea in 1987. Revolutions, meanwhile, often erupt in places where repression is extreme or inequality is massive, such as in France in 1789, Russia in 1917, or Libya in 2011. The level of institutional openness and tolerance for dissent is a major factor in determining whether a reform is possible—or whether only revolution remains.
Why each movement begins touches the heart of people’s demands. Both reforms and revolutions usually stem from frustration with injustice, inequality, or corruption. However, reformists still believe the system is salvageable—they want to fix it from within. Revolutionaries believe the system is fundamentally broken and must be torn down. One seeks evolution; the other seeks rupture.
Finally, how these changes happen marks the clearest distinction. Reform usually unfolds through legal processes, public dialogue, elections, or peaceful demonstrations. It’s often slower and negotiated. Revolution, in contrast, is marked by confrontation, uprising, and sometimes violence. It might involve the storming of parliaments, coups, or armed struggle. The pace is faster, the energy more explosive, and the outcomes less predictable.
In summary, reform is like renovating a house while keeping its foundation intact; revolution is like demolishing it to rebuild something entirely new. Both are driven by the people’s desire for a better future—but they take very different paths to get there.
In Revolutions and Rebellions in the Early Modern World (University of California Press, 1991), Jack A. Goldstone offers a rich sociological and historical analysis of the major revolutions that took place between the 17th and 19th centuries. He argues that revolutions are not random or purely ideological explosions, but rather follow identifiable patterns rooted in long-term structural stresses within societies. According to Goldstone, the primary causes of large-scale revolutions often emerge from a convergence of state fiscal crises, elite conflict, demographic pressures, and declining legitimacy of ruling institutions.
Goldstone emphasises that revolutions typically occur when centralised states—especially those that rely heavily on taxation and military control—are no longer able to manage social and economic tensions caused by population growth, resource strain, or inflation. When these pressures coincide with internal divisions among elites, such as rivalries within the nobility or conflicts between traditional aristocracies and newly rising classes (like merchants or bureaucrats), the state becomes vulnerable. If, in this context, the state's ability to maintain legitimacy and effective governance collapses, then a full-blown revolution can erupt.
Unlike simple reforms—which he describes as adjustments within an existing framework—Goldstone sees revolutions as moments of systemic breakdown and rebuilding. Reform, in his view, is a process of fixing the house while still living in it, whereas revolution is what happens when the house collapses and a new one must be constructed from the rubble. He underscores that revolutions involve the destruction of existing institutions and the establishment of radically new political orders, often driven by mass mobilization and social upheaval.
Goldstone also notes that revolutions are not always driven by a unified ideology. Instead, they often begin in fragmented and chaotic ways, only coalescing into coherent movements after power has shifted. His historical case studies—including the English Civil War, the French Revolution, and rebellions in China and the Ottoman Empire—illustrate how similar structural conditions produced different revolutionary outcomes depending on the political culture, economic systems, and leadership dynamics in each society.
Goldstone’s analysis makes clear that revolutions are deeply rooted in the breakdown of state-society relations, while reforms are tools of adaptation that aim to preserve those relations. Where reform seeks to mend and modernize, revolution seeks to demolish and reimagine.
Anatomies of Revolution by George Lawson (2019, Cambridge University Press), offers a fresh and comprehensive analysis of revolutions, emphasising their dynamic and relational nature.
Lawson defines a revolution as a collective mobilisation that seeks to rapidly and forcibly overthrow an existing regime to transform political, economic, and symbolic relations. He argues that revolutions are not isolated events but are deeply embedded in both domestic and international contexts. This perspective challenges traditional views that treat revolutions as solely internal affairs, highlighting instead the significance of global interconnections and influences.
A key contribution of Lawson's work is his emphasis on the relational aspects of revolutions. He posits that revolutions are best understood through the interactions between various social forces, institutions, and international actors. By adopting a global historical sociology approach, Lawson integrates insights from international relations, sociology, and history to provide a nuanced understanding of how revolutions begin, unfold, and conclude.
Regarding the distinction between revolution and reform, Lawson suggests that reforms are incremental changes within the existing political framework, aiming to improve or adjust the system without fundamentally altering its core structures. In contrast, revolutions involve a complete transformation of the political and social order, often through rapid and forceful means. While reforms work within the system to bring about change, revolutions seek to dismantle and replace the existing system entirely.
Lawson's analysis also addresses contemporary movements and uprisings, such as the Arab Spring and other recent protests. He examines whether these events qualify as revolutions by assessing their objectives, methods, and outcomes. This approach allows for a more flexible understanding of revolutionary processes, acknowledging that not all significant social and political changes fit neatly into traditional definitions of revolution.
Around the world, many countries have experienced movements broadly categorised as "reformations" or "revolutions," although the distinctions between the two often blur depending on the context.
Countries that have undergone significant reforms typically pursued gradual changes within their existing political or social systems. For example, the United Kingdom experienced a series of reforms in the 19th and 20th centuries, such as the expansion of voting rights and labour laws, which modernised the political system without overthrowing the monarchy or government. Similarly, Japan underwent major political and economic reforms during the Meiji Restoration in the late 19th century, which transformed the country from a feudal society to a modern state while maintaining imperial continuity. South Africa also implemented reforms during the late 20th century, transitioning away from apartheid through negotiated agreements rather than violent upheaval.
On the other hand, countries that experienced revolutions witnessed more abrupt and often violent overthrows of their existing regimes, typically accompanied by radical social and political change. The French Revolution in 1789 famously dismantled the monarchy and aristocracy, replacing them with a republic. The Russian Revolution of 1917 saw the collapse of the Tsarist autocracy and the rise of a communist state. The American Revolution in the late 18th century led to independence from British colonial rule, creating a new nation founded on democratic principles. More recently, the Iranian Revolution of 1979 toppled the Shah’s regime and established an Islamic Republic. The Arab Spring movements that swept through countries like Egypt and Tunisia in the 2010s also involved revolutionary uprisings aimed at overthrowing entrenched authoritarian governments.
While reforms generally seek to improve or modify a system from within, revolutions tend to involve dismantling and rebuilding societal structures. Both processes have shaped the modern world in profound ways, sometimes overlapping or influencing each other depending on historical circumstances.
Reform can be seen as successful when it brings meaningful improvements to society without causing widespread chaos or destruction. A great example of this is South Africa’s peaceful transition from apartheid to democracy in the early 1990s. Under the leadership of figures like Nelson Mandela and F.W. de Klerk, the country underwent massive institutional reform while avoiding civil war. The shift was structured, inclusive, and resulted in a more just political system, making it a textbook case of reform done right.
However, reform can also fall apart or turn messy when it is superficial, blocked by vested interests, or when it raises expectations that go unfulfilled. A good example is the political reform process in Myanmar during the 2010s. While it initially looked promising with the release of political prisoners and partial democratisation, it eventually unravelled due to the military's continued grip on power and the brutal 2021 coup. In this case, reform appeared shiny on the outside but was fragile on the inside.
As for revolutions, they can be inspiring when they truly dismantle oppressive systems and lay the foundation for a better society. The American Revolution, for instance, successfully overthrew colonial rule and established a republic grounded in Enlightenment ideals, influencing democratic movements worldwide. Similarly, the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia in 1989 achieved a peaceful transition from communist dictatorship to democracy, showing that a revolution doesn’t have to be violent to be effective.
On the flip side, revolutions can turn disastrous when they replace one tyranny with another or lead to prolonged instability. The Russian Revolution began with the promise of workers’ empowerment but quickly descended into civil war, repression, and decades of authoritarian rule under the Soviet regime. The same happened with the Iranian Revolution in 1979—while it removed a corrupt monarchy, it led to a theocratic state that many critics argue curtailed freedoms even further.
In short, reform tends to work best when it's genuine, inclusive, and backed by sustained effort and institutional support. Revolutions shine when they remain focused on justice and liberty without succumbing to vengeance or power struggles. But both can fail—either by being hijacked, half-baked, or blind to the long-term consequences.
Back to the topic of Indonesian reformasi. There is substantial evidence indicating that Indonesia's reform era, spanning 27 years since the fall of Suharto in 1998, has encountered significant setbacks. While the Reformasi movement initially aimed to establish a more democratic, transparent, and just society, various reports and analyses suggest that many of these objectives remain unfulfilled. One of the most pressing concerns is the erosion of civil liberties and political freedoms. Amnesty International Indonesia has highlighted a decline in human rights, attributing it to the government's failure to address past human rights violations and the recurrence of authoritarian practices that undermine civil, political, and social justice.
Amnesty International Indonesia
Corruption remains a pervasive issue. Despite the establishment of anti-corruption bodies like the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK), the entrenchment of corrupt practices within the bureaucracy and political institutions continues to hinder reform efforts. The Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) reported that between 2010 and 2016, a significant number of civil servants were implicated in corruption cases, indicating systemic issues within the public sector.
Anti Korupsi
The police have been seen as turning into a party, with the satirical term "brown party", the military's role in civilian affairs, which Reformasi sought to curtail, has seen a resurgence. The re-emergence of military influence in political and civilian spheres raises concerns about the rollback of democratic gains and the potential return to authoritarian governance structures.
Furthermore, the government's approach to historical narratives has sparked controversy. Efforts to revise history textbooks, particularly those concerning sensitive events like the 1965 anti-communist purges, have been criticised for potentially whitewashing past atrocities and undermining the pursuit of justice and reconciliation.
The Australian
While Indonesia's Reformasi era began with aspirations for profound political and social transformation, various factors—including persistent corruption, the resurgence of military influence, erosion of civil liberties, and contentious historical revisionism—have impeded the realisation of these goals. These challenges underscore the complexities involved in sustaining democratic reforms and highlight the need for continued vigilance and advocacy to uphold the principles of Reformasi.
Many political observers and scholars argue that one of the key reasons behind the setbacks of Indonesia’s reform era lies with the reform actors themselves—both the genuine reformists and those who merely claimed the label for personal or political gain. While the Reformasi movement in 1998 was driven by a coalition of students, civil society groups, and political elites who demanded an end to authoritarianism, what followed in the years ahead was a fragmentation of that unity. Some of the original reform figures eventually became part of the very political system they had once sought to dismantle. Others were sidelined, while new actors—who branded themselves as reformists—entered the political arena without a sincere commitment to democratic principles.
These so-called reformists often adopted the language and symbolism of Reformasi to gain popular support or political legitimacy, but their actual policies and governance practices mirrored those of the old regime. As a result, reform was co-opted by power elites who prioritised stability, patronage, and personal interest over structural change. In some cases, former student activists and pro-democracy figures even aligned themselves with oligarchic networks, weakening their credibility and blurring the moral clarity that had once defined the movement. The eradication of corruption, collusion and nepotism, which was the main topic of the reformation, was not eradicated, but instead maintained.
The contradiction between reformist rhetoric and regressive action has eroded public trust and dulled the transformative energy of the early Reformasi period. Therefore, it is fair to say that one of the most profound failures of the reform movement stems from within: when those who once demanded change either compromised or became complicit in maintaining the very systems they had vowed to reform.
In the end, the story of Indonesia’s Reformasi is neither a total failure nor a complete success. It is a complex, ongoing journey marked by moments of real progress, tempered by episodes of disappointment and regression. The fall of Suharto in 1998 was undoubtedly a historic achievement—one that shattered the illusion of eternal authoritarianism and opened the door to democratic possibilities. But reform is never a one-time event. It is a long, difficult process that requires consistency, vigilance, and integrity, especially from those who once claimed to be its fiercest advocates.
As the years passed, some of the original reformers transformed into political elites themselves, gradually blending into the very structures they once opposed. Others lost their relevance or were strategically pushed aside. Meanwhile, a new generation grew up witnessing not the fiery spirit of change but the stale reality of political compromise, corruption, and recycled power. For many young Indonesians today, “Reformasi” no longer sparks the same inspiration it once did—it feels like a brand that got overused, rebranded, and eventually diluted by those who forgot what it was supposed to mean.
One important factor that complicates Indonesia’s ongoing reform process is the widespread historical amnesia among many young Indonesians today. Unlike the generations that directly experienced the fall of Suharto and the fervent activism of 1998, the youth of this era often grow up detached from the deep and sometimes painful lessons of their recent past. History classes and public discourse have not always succeeded in conveying the full significance of Reformasi, leaving many young people with only a vague or even distorted understanding of what it truly entailed.
This lack of historical consciousness is more than just an educational gap; it shapes how the new generation perceives politics, governance, and their own role as citizens. Without a clear grasp of the struggles, sacrifices, and complexities that defined Reformasi, young Indonesians are more vulnerable to political apathy, cynicism, or being swayed by simplistic narratives. They may see democracy as something given, rather than as a fragile achievement that demands constant effort and vigilance.
Rekindling a strong connection to history could empower the youth to become the genuine drivers of reform in the future. By learning from past mistakes and understanding the ideals that once mobilised millions, Indonesia’s younger generation has the potential to reinvigorate Reformasi with fresh energy and a renewed sense of purpose. Without this, the risk remains that reform will continue to stagnate—trapped in cycles of disappointment that repeat because the past has been forgotten or ignored.
In this light, fostering historical awareness should be seen not as an optional extra, but as a crucial part of the reform agenda itself. It is through remembering and understanding history that Indonesia’s future reformers can avoid repeating old errors and chart a more hopeful, inclusive path forward..
But perhaps there is still hope. History tells us that reform movements are often cyclical. When one wave fades, another may rise, led by those who refuse to let the ideals of justice, accountability, and public empowerment die. The challenge now is to reclaim Reformasi from the hands of those who turned it into a political slogan and revive it as a genuine project of nation-building. To do so, Indonesia must look beyond nostalgia and towards a future where reform is not just a memory, but a lived, collective mission—driven not by personalities, but by principles.
