Buzzers

A buzzer, in its most basic sense, is a small electronic device that produces a sound when electricity passes through it, commonly found in alarms, timers, and everyday appliances. However, in the social and political sphere, especially in Indonesia, the term “buzzer” has taken on a very different meaning. It refers to individuals or social media accounts, often anonymous, that are mobilised to amplify certain narratives, whether to promote a brand, defend a public figure, or attack political opponents. These digital buzzers do not merely create noise like their electronic counterparts, but instead generate waves of influence that can sway public opinion, shape reputations, or spread misinformation. While their presence can sometimes serve promotional purposes, they are more often associated with orchestrated campaigns that manipulate conversations and dominate online discourse.

In today’s world, the breeding of buzzers—whether officially sanctioned or quietly tolerated—has become a hallmark of both fragile democracies and entrenched authoritarian regimes. Officially, governments such as Russia, China, and Turkey have constructed large-scale digital operations that deploy armies of trolls, bots, and human accounts to shape global narratives. Russia’s infamous Internet Research Agency, for instance, has been well-documented for meddling in elections abroad and flooding domestic debates with Kremlin-friendly propaganda. China’s so-called “50 Cent Army” performs similar tasks, steering online conversations toward party-approved messages while drowning out dissent. Turkey, under President Erdoğan, has cultivated digital brigades loyal to the ruling party, ensuring that hashtags trend on command and critics are swiftly silenced. These states embrace buzzers not as an embarrassment but as an official extension of statecraft, turning them into instruments of both domestic control and international influence.

Yet the phenomenon is not confined to authoritarian states. In countries that pride themselves on democracy—such as India, Brazil, and the Philippines—buzzers have thrived in more ambiguous, semi-official forms. Political parties contract private firms or networks of influencers to create the illusion of popular enthusiasm, particularly during elections. India’s ruling party, for example, has been repeatedly accused of cultivating IT cells that flood social media with pro-government messages while harassing journalists and opponents. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro’s rise was accompanied by a digital machine that spread memes, disinformation, and aggressive counter-narratives. The Philippines, under Rodrigo Duterte, became a global case study in how online troll farms could normalise political violence and erode trust in traditional journalism. These operations are rarely acknowledged outright by governments, but they flourish in plain sight, feeding off state patronage and corporate contracts.

Indonesia itself stands as a hybrid case, where buzzers emerged first from commercial marketing before being weaponised in politics. From the Jakarta gubernatorial election in 2012 to the presidential contests of 2014 and 2019, buzzers became semi-institutionalised, working both for political elites and business interests. Reports by institutions such as CSIS and Oxford have confirmed that Indonesia belongs to the growing list of countries where digital mercenaries, both bots and humans, operate to skew debates, attack critics, and manufacture legitimacy. Here, the state may not openly declare its use of buzzers, but the evidence of their orchestration—coordinated hashtags, simultaneous content drops, and the silencing of dissent—is impossible to ignore.

There is evidence that the administration of President Joko Widodo allocated public funds to engage buzzers and influencers to promote government programs. According to a report by Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) released in August 2020, the central government spent approximately Rp 90.45 billion on influencer services between 2017 and 2020. These expenditures were primarily for social media campaigns aimed at disseminating information about various government initiatives, including the handling of the COVID-19 pandemic. The Ministry of Tourism and Creative Economy accounted for the largest share, with 22 procurement packages totalling Rp 77.66 billion, while the Ministry of Communications and Information Technology had four packages amounting to Rp 10.83 billion.

The use of influencers by the government was intended to leverage their reach and credibility to communicate policies effectively to the public. For instance, during the pandemic, several celebrities were invited to the Presidential Palace to discuss and promote health protocols and government measures. However, this practice has raised concerns among critics who argue that it may blur the lines between genuine public information and state-sponsored messaging, potentially leading to the spread of disinformation.

Buzzers occupy a twilight zone between official statecraft and informal shadow work. In some countries they wear the uniform of the state, while in others they hide behind the masks of anonymity, contractors, or influencers. What unites them is their ability to transform the digital sphere into a weaponised arena where truth is negotiable, power is performative, and democracy itself becomes background noise drowned out by the orchestrated hum of artificial consensus.

In the cacophony of social media, buzzers are no longer a novelty. Once mere tools for marketing products, they have morphed into the cheapest and most effective propaganda machines. In the hands of those in power, buzzers become virtual mercenaries—not armed with bullets, but with words, manipulation, and informational noise. They manufacture false opinions, orchestrate public discourse, and attack anyone deemed a political threat—even ordinary citizens demanding their rights.

Ironically, in a country that claims to be democratic, the voice of the people is drowned out by paid artificial chatter. This is the face of dirty politics in the digital age. Authorities no longer rely solely on state apparatus; they now command faceless troops working round the clock to fabricate the illusion of popular support.

Most citizens do not even realise that the opinions flooding their timelines are not genuine—they are ordered, manufactured, and directed with one goal: to preserve power at any cost. As Wasisto Raharjo Jati notes in Digital Propaganda: Fenomena Buzzer Politik dalam Kontestasi Demokrasi di Indonesia (Pustaka Pelajar, 2019), these orchestrated campaigns are less about free speech and more about sustaining political dominance through systematic deception.

Buzzers may sound like mere background noise online, but behind the hum lies a systematic machinery. In Indonesia, the phenomenon originated around 2009, when Twitter gained traction in the country. Buzzers initially served neutral commercial purposes. But during the 2012 Jakarta gubernatorial election, they were politicised—not for profit, but to craft images, attack opponents, and shape opinion through invisible waves on social media. Ross Tapsell’s Media Power in Indonesia: Oligarchs, Citizens and the Digital Revolution (Rowman & Littlefield, 2017) illustrates how political elites harness these networks, turning them into weapons of perception.

By 2014, buzzers had evolved into a shadow industry. They no longer just promoted—they propagated. Through memes, infographics, and hashtags that appeared spontaneous, they launched covert smear campaigns. Buzzers became cheap, elusive, and fast digital soldiers capable of splitting public opinion. This echoes Samuel Woolley and Philip Howard’s edited volume, Computational Propaganda: Political Parties, Politicians, and Political Manipulation on Social Media (Oxford, 2018), which situates Indonesian buzzers within a global phenomenon of cyber troops that distort democracy through coordinated digital manipulation.

Studies by CSIS and Oxford researchers Samantha Bradshaw and Philip Howard revealed Indonesia as one of 70 countries deploying cyber troops—both bots and humans—to spread propaganda, manipulate issues, and erode trust in media and democratic institutions. In Network Propaganda: Manipulation, Disinformation, and Radicalization in American Politics (Benkler, Faris, & Roberts, 2018), similar patterns are documented in the United States, showing that buzzers are part of a larger architecture of disinformation across the globe.

Buzzers now go beyond paid opinion. They design and execute strategies to flood digital spaces with curated information aimed at distorting reality. Their goal is not just promotion—it is domination. Using amplification techniques, they deploy vast networks of bots, fake accounts, and real users to spread digestible content like memes and infographics, making it appear organic. David Patrikarakos in War in 140 Characters (2017) underscores how social media has become a theatre of conflict, where influence operations can be as consequential as physical wars.

One of their most effective tactics is hashtag hijacking. When a topic trends, buzzers infiltrate the conversation, insert favourable narratives, and redirect discussions entirely. They simulate mass support by flooding comments, liking content en masse, and creating the illusion of widespread public backing—a practice known as astroturfing. Merlyna Lim’s Many Clicks but Little Sticks: Social Media Activism in Indonesia (ISEAS, 2013) captures the fragility of online mobilisation, showing how orchestrated campaigns can easily overtake genuine activism.

Buzzers operate in structured teams. Recruitment is meticulous, targeting active, influential accounts. Selected individuals are invited into secret WhatsApp or Telegram groups, where only the most aggressive and consistent are promoted. Teams are divided by function: content creators, distributors, and counterattack units. They produce emotionally charged content, spread it simultaneously, and attack critics with disinformation or fake debates. Jessikka Aro’s Putin’s Trolls (2022) provides striking parallels, describing how Russia employs similar tactics to control narratives at home and abroad.

Buzzers now rely on human-run accounts with diverse posting histories, making them indistinguishable from real users. Hybrid accounts—part human, part bot—are used to mass-like or retweet content. Even hijacked accounts are employed to simulate diverse support. They stage fake debates between accounts controlled by the same team, creating the illusion of authentic discourse. Beyond public platforms like Twitter, buzzers spread propaganda via private messaging apps, exploiting the trust of personal groups.

This ecosystem is tightly coordinated. Content is crafted, distributed, and defended in waves, drowning genuine voices in orchestrated noise. Social media, meant to be democratic, becomes a battleground where truth is sacrificed for power. Investigative journalism by Kompas revealed rigorous selection processes, with candidates needing recommendations and passing account screenings. Influencer tiers determine pay and segmentation.

One example is the Cyber Army led by Madya Muzaki, exposed in May 2025 for obstructing corruption investigations. His team of 150 received over Rp864 million to spread negative narratives. Buzzers also played key roles in the 2019 KPK Law revision, manipulating public perception with doctored media and viral hashtags. Even ordinary citizens like Jau Hari have faced intimidation for criticising football policies. Buzzers have become tools of digital violence, threatening freedom of expression.

Buzzers distort truth through agenda setting, wresting control from mainstream media. In 2023 alone, over 2,300 hoaxes were recorded, half of them political. They also inflict psychological terror—doxing, bullying, and character assassination. Critics face coordinated attacks, silencing dissent. Democracy weakens when truth is obscured and criticism is punished. Buzzers manipulate policy, turning controversial laws into seemingly popular reforms. They normalise authoritarianism—not by banning criticism, but by drowning it.

Buzzers thrive in fragile digital environments. Algorithms favour emotional engagement over truth, rewarding sensational lies with virality. This degrades public trust and fuels cynicism. Buzzers also blur the line between moderation and censorship. Platforms pressured to act against disinformation risk suppressing free speech. This dual threat creates fertile ground for buzzers.

Their damage spans five layers: distortion of deliberation, erosion of trust, chilling effect, policy manipulation, and normalisation of soft authoritarianism. These layers interlock, weakening democracy’s foundations. Buzzers are not just noisy accounts—they are political weapons. They manipulate public opinion, erode trust, and silence dissent. If left unchecked, they threaten the very soul of democracy.

During Vice President Gibran Rakabuming Raka’s series of domestic and international visits, from regional appearances in Indonesia to his most recent trip to Papua New Guinea in September 2025, buzzers have consistently been deployed to manipulate public perception. On social media, these digital operatives flooded timelines with narratives portraying each visit as a success, highlighting cordial interactions with local leaders, and amplifying supposed popular support. Supportive hashtags, staged images, and even fabricated accounts contributed to a digital echo chamber in which dissenting voices were drowned out. Observers noted that while the official communications focused on diplomacy and protocol, the online campaigns often went further, attacking critics and pre-emptively discrediting alternative interpretations of events.

The operation was highly orchestrated: teams of buzzers were organised by function, with content creators, distributors, and counterattack units coordinating across multiple platforms. WhatsApp and Telegram groups served as command centres, where directives were given in real-time to respond to trending topics or negative commentary. In some instances, the same team simulated debates between accounts to create the illusion of public discourse. The Papua New Guinea visit, although minor in geopolitical terms, was transformed into a digital spectacle designed to project influence, secure domestic approval, and pre-empt any criticism of the administration.

Content creation was managed by a tiered structure: primary teams produced the visuals and narratives, secondary teams disseminated them across networks, and tertiary units monitored responses, flagging criticism and deploying counter-narratives. WhatsApp and Telegram channels functioned as real-time command centres, coordinating posts, likes, retweets, and comment amplification. In several instances, the same account networks staged “debates” where pro-government accounts debated each other, making online observers believe genuine discussion was taking place.

The campaign was not limited to social media optics. Influencers were recruited to post videos and live streams praising the Vice President’s local initiatives, while minor news outlets were encouraged to feature positive coverage. Any critical or questioning commentary—whether from independent journalists or local activists—was quickly overwhelmed by coordinated replies and reports, effectively silencing dissent in digital spaces.

This phenomenon reflects a broader trend seen across nations, where both authoritarian and democratic governments increasingly rely on digital operatives to shape narratives. In Indonesia, the line between voluntary support and paid orchestration has blurred, with the government and private interests both harnessing the speed and reach of buzzers. What might have once been a minor marketing tactic has now evolved into a sophisticated political tool, capable of influencing perceptions at home and abroad, particularly during high-visibility events such as official visits by top leaders.

Whenever criticism arose—whether from independent journalists, local activists, or satirical social media accounts—the buzzer network swung into immediate action. Using pre-planned scripts, coordinated replies, and rapid amplification, they countered dissent with both subtle persuasion and overt attacks. Negative commentary was often drowned in a flood of supportive comments, retweets, and emoji reactions, creating the impression that criticism was a minority view. Satirical memes or critical videos were quickly reported, flagged, and sometimes mirrored with “corrected” or rewritten versions that reframed the narrative positively.

WhatsApp and Telegram groups acted as command centres for these countermeasures. Instructions were sent in real-time: teams would target trending critical hashtags, flood comment sections, and mobilise hybrid accounts—part human, part bot—to simulate mass rebuttals. Even hijacked or repurposed accounts were used strategically to appear as diverse participants in the debate, masking the orchestrated nature of the operation.

The long-term effects of sustained buzzer operations have become increasingly apparent in Indonesia’s political landscape. Over time, the constant presence of orchestrated digital messaging has contributed to a blurring of lines between genuine public opinion and manufactured consensus. Citizens scrolling through social media timelines may find themselves exposed almost exclusively to curated narratives, supportive hashtags, and amplified content from hybrid accounts, leaving critical voices isolated and marginalised. This ecosystem fosters an environment in which citizens struggle to distinguish authentic debate from orchestrated noise, ultimately weakening the capacity for informed decision-making.

In addition to shaping perception, buzzers have had tangible impacts on policy and public discourse. Controversial legislation, such as revisions to the KPK Law in 2019, was accompanied by extensive digital campaigns that flooded timelines with simplified explanations, emotional appeals, and doctored media. By pre-emptively framing these laws as popular and necessary, buzzers effectively softened potential resistance and normalised authoritarian tendencies, all without visible coercion. Even cultural or entertainment events were not immune; social media discussions about football regulations, local festivals, or public health campaigns were subtly steered to reflect official priorities, often marginalising grassroots concerns.

The psychological dimension is equally significant. The persistent bombardment of supportive messaging, counter-narratives, and online harassment against dissenters has created a climate of self-censorship. Many citizens, aware of the artificial amplification behind trends, may hesitate to voice criticism or engage in meaningful debate for fear of coordinated backlash. In this way, buzzers not only distort reality but also condition public behaviour, gradually reshaping civic participation according to the interests of political elites and private actors.

The cumulative effect is the transformation of Indonesia’s digital space into a battleground where truth is negotiable, dissent is surveilled, and democratic deliberation is increasingly subordinated to engineered narratives. What began as a seemingly innocuous marketing tool has become a powerful instrument of political control, demonstrating that in the modern era, influence and perception are often as decisive as legislation and governance.

The use of buzzers by government officials can be legally problematic if it involves the misuse of public funds, lack of transparency, or deliberate manipulation of public opinion for partisan purposes. Indonesian law requires that state budgets be allocated and spent according to principles of accountability and clarity. When funds are used to pay social media influencers or coordinate online campaigns without clear public reporting, questions arise about whether these expenditures comply with regulations governing public spending.

Furthermore, if the intent of employing buzzers is to suppress dissent, attack critics, or fabricate the illusion of widespread public support, such actions may constitute a violation of administrative and ethical standards in governance. While no specific law directly criminalises paying influencers, misuse of budget allocations for political gain can be challenged under anti-corruption statutes, audit mechanisms, and laws regulating the responsible use of public resources. Legal scholars and oversight bodies emphasise that transparency, clear objectives, and proportionality are essential; otherwise, the practice can be interpreted as an abuse of state power, potentially exposing officials to scrutiny, public criticism, and legal accountability.

So, the legal risk arises from the combination of intent, lack of transparency, and potential diversion of state resources for partisan purposes. The key point is whether the use of buzzers serves legitimate public communication objectives or whether it crosses the line into manipulation and covert propaganda, which would be difficult to justify under Indonesian law.

Transparency is a cornerstone of a healthy democracy, as it ensures that citizens have access to information about government actions, policies, and public spending. In a system where transparency is upheld, the public can monitor the decisions of officials, hold them accountable, and make informed choices during elections. Transparency prevents abuse of power, corruption, and secretive practices that undermine trust in institutions. It also fosters legitimacy, because when citizens understand why and how decisions are made, they are more likely to support them or engage constructively in debate.

The public plays a critical role in promoting and maintaining transparency. Citizens can demand access to official documents, question government expenditures, participate in public hearings, and use media platforms to scrutinise policies. Civil society organisations, watchdogs, and independent journalists amplify public oversight by investigating and publishing findings, which encourages accountability. Moreover, active civic engagement, such as reporting irregularities, participating in audits, and challenging opaque practices, strengthens democratic governance. In short, transparency is not only a legal or administrative requirement but also a social contract between the government and the governed, and the public is the key enforcer of this contract.

In the context of buzzers and social media, transparency in government becomes even more critical. When officials employ paid online operators to shape public opinion, the public has the right to know whether public funds are being used, how campaigns are conducted, and for what purposes. Without such transparency, citizens cannot distinguish between genuine grassroots sentiment and artificially manufactured consensus, which erodes trust in democratic institutions.

The public’s role is to act as a watchdog, scrutinising online campaigns and questioning government communication strategies. Civil society organisations and independent media can investigate and reveal the structure, funding, and tactics of buzzer operations. Citizens themselves can engage critically by recognising patterns of coordinated messaging, avoiding the spread of unverified content, and demanding explanations from officials. Tools such as freedom of information requests, public hearings, and investigative journalism are essential for exposing covert digital influence operations.

In the battle against manipulative online campaigns, the public functions as the main enforcer of transparency. By staying informed, questioning authority, and demanding accountability, citizens can prevent the misuse of public resources and maintain the integrity of democratic discourse. Transparency is not just a legal principle—it is a civic duty that allows society to distinguish truth from propaganda, ensuring that government communication serves the public interest rather than partisan agendas.

Citizens facing the mobilisation of buzzers should approach the situation with both caution and critical awareness. The first step is to develop media literacy, which involves understanding how social media content is created, amplified, and sometimes manipulated to shape public opinion. By learning to recognise patterns of coordinated messaging, emotional manipulation, and fake accounts, individuals can avoid being swayed by artificial trends or manufactured consensus.

Secondly, the public can strengthen independent verification of information. Checking multiple reliable sources, cross-referencing news, and relying on established fact-checking organisations helps mitigate the influence of orchestrated online campaigns. Citizens should also engage in thoughtful discussions in private or smaller community spaces rather than blindly participating in trending debates, which are often engineered by buzzer networks.

Additionally, citizens can participate in democratic oversight by demanding transparency and accountability from government communications. This can include advocating for clear reporting on the use of public funds for social media campaigns and supporting policies that regulate undisclosed political advertising or covert influence operations. Civil society organisations, independent media, and watchdogs play a crucial role in amplifying awareness and holding both public officials and private actors accountable.

Finally, fostering a culture of critical thinking and civic responsibility is essential. Citizens must recognise that their own engagement—likes, shares, and comments—can be manipulated, and therefore should interact with online content consciously. In doing so, society can resist the artificial shaping of opinion, protect genuine public discourse, and contribute to a more resilient democracy.

In today’s digital democracy, the role of the public is more complex and critical than ever. Citizens are no longer only voters or participants in physical civic spaces—they are actors in a sprawling online ecosystem where social media, influencers, and coordinated buzzers can amplify both authentic and artificial opinions. In this context, being an active citizen means not only engaging with policies and government decisions but also discerning which information is genuine and which is manufactured.

Public participation now requires digital literacy, critical thinking, and vigilance. Citizens must learn to identify coordinated campaigns, detect disinformation, and avoid spreading manipulated content. By cross-checking information across reliable sources and consulting fact-checking platforms, the public can resist the artificial shaping of opinion and protect democratic discourse. Civil society organisations and independent media act as intermediaries, investigating and exposing manipulative tactics while the public amplifies these findings through responsible engagement.

Moreover, citizens can hold officials accountable by demanding transparency in government digital communications, including the use of public funds for social media campaigns. Participating in online petitions, commenting critically on official announcements, and engaging in constructive debate are ways to assert influence and safeguard democracy in the digital age. In essence, a vigilant, informed, and digitally literate public is the most effective defence against manipulation, ensuring that democracy in Indonesia reflects authentic citizen voices rather than the engineered narratives of a few powerful actors.

Bahasa