G30S/PKI: A Reflection

Several striking historical anecdotes illustrate how personality cults in communist states clashed with ethical governance and human welfare—principles central to Pancasila.

One famous example is Mao Zedong’s “Little Red Book” era in China. During the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), Mao’s image and quotations were treated almost as sacred scripture. Citizens, including children, were encouraged—or coerced—to carry and memorise the book, and failing to publicly demonstrate loyalty could result in humiliation, imprisonment, or death. Ordinary bureaucrats, teachers, and intellectuals were denounced simply for questioning party policy or expressing independent thought. The cult of Mao turned ideological obedience into a matter of life and death, prioritising loyalty to one man over moral reasoning, justice, or human dignity—clearly at odds with the Pancasila principle of “Kemanusiaan yang adil dan beradab.”

Another illustrative case is North Korea under Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il. Portraits of the leaders are ubiquitous, schoolchildren are required to sing songs praising them, and citizens are expected to demonstrate daily reverence. In practice, this cult of personality institutionalizes fear, suppresses dissent, and forces blind obedience, which runs contrary to Pancasila’s emphasis on participatory decision-making (“Kerakyatan yang dipimpin oleh hikmat kebijaksanaan dalam permusyawaratan/perwakilan”) and unity based on shared moral and humanistic values rather than coercion.

Even in the Soviet Union, Joseph Stalin’s era demonstrates the dangers vividly. Stalin was glorified as “Father of Nations,” with propaganda presenting him as infallible. People feared criticising policies, and arbitrary arrests, purges, and executions were common. The elevation of a single individual above the law and collective welfare clearly contradicts the Pancasila vision of ethical, balanced governance and respect for human life.

These anecdotes illustrate that personality cults replace collective responsibility with personal loyalty, suppress ethical judgment, and create social systems based on fear and idolisation—essentially the opposite of what Pancasila strives to uphold.

The personality cults seen in many communist states clearly contradict the philosophical foundations of Pancasila because Pancasila emphasises collective responsibility, moral leadership, and the primacy of the nation over individuals. One of its core principles is “Kemanusiaan yang adil dan beradab” (Just and Civilised Humanity), which stresses respect for human dignity, equality, and moral accountability. When a leader is elevated to near-divine status, obedience to the individual can override ethical considerations, human rights, and societal well-being—precisely what Pancasila warns against.

Furthermore, Pancasila’s principle of “Persatuan Indonesia” (Unity of Indonesia) promotes harmony among diverse communities and discourages authoritarian domination. Personality cults concentrate power in one person, often suppress dissent, manipulate ideology for personal glorification, and generate fear rather than unity. This is diametrically opposed to the Pancasila ideal of governance as a service to the people and the collective good, not to one individual’s ego.

In addition, the Pancasila principle of “Kerakyatan yang dipimpin oleh hikmat kebijaksanaan dalam permusyawaratan/perwakilan” (Democracy guided by inner wisdom in deliberation/representation) demands participatory and reasoned decision-making. Personality cults eliminate real deliberation, replacing debate and consensus with commands from a single figure. This undermines the Pancasila vision of democracy, rooted in mutual consultation and respect for the collective will.

In short, the worship of a single leader contradicts Pancasila because it prioritises power and loyalty to an individual over ethical governance, social justice, human dignity, and collective decision-making. Pancasila seeks to balance authority with morality and unity with plurality, while personality cults invert these values to elevate a single person above the law, the people, and moral responsibility.

Some of us deny that communists do not believe in religion; they say, there are communist figures who still adhere to their religion.

Yes, it is indeed possible for some communist figures to remain religious, although this might seem contradictory at first glance. Classical Marxist theory, as laid out by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, strongly criticises religion, famously calling it “the opium of the people,” and promotes atheism as part of the materialist worldview. Many communist regimes, especially in the Soviet Union and China, actively discouraged or even suppressed religious practices.

Yet, history shows us that the reality was more nuanced. For instance, José Carlos Mariátegui, a Peruvian Marxist thinker, attempted to integrate spiritual and moral values drawn from Catholicism into his understanding of social justice, refusing to adopt rigid atheism. Similarly, Ernesto Cardenal, a Nicaraguan Catholic priest and poet, was actively involved in the Sandinista revolution while maintaining his religious identity. In countries such as Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia, some members of communist parties continued to practice Catholicism or Orthodox Christianity, often navigating a delicate balance between party loyalty and personal faith. Even in Indonesia, Tan Malaka, a key communist figure, referenced spiritual concepts in his writings despite advocating socialist and materialist principles.

In short, the assumption that all communists are automatically atheists does not hold universally. While orthodox communism is formally atheistic, individual beliefs often adapt to local cultures and personal convictions, allowing for a surprising coexistence of communist ideology and religious faith.

However, the following will be the problem: if a communist state is fully established, the practical relationship between communism and religion becomes much more complicated. In orthodox communist theory, religion is seen as a tool that distracts people from the struggle for social and economic equality, so the state often promotes atheism as the official stance. In practice, this usually leads to restrictions on religious institutions, surveillance of religious leaders, and propaganda against religious practices.

For example, in the Soviet Union, churches were closed, religious education was banned, and clergy were often persecuted or forced to conform to state directives. In China under Mao, temples and mosques were destroyed, and religious rituals were heavily controlled or banned entirely during the Cultural Revolution. However, in countries like Cuba or Vietnam, the state eventually allowed a degree of religious freedom while maintaining strict political control, recognising that completely eradicating faith was impractical.

Even when religion is allowed, it is typically subordinated to the state: religious activities are monitored, and loyalty to the communist party is expected to take priority over spiritual matters. The survival of religious faith in such contexts depends on the resilience of communities and their ability to adapt practices under surveillance. In short, in a fully communist state, religion can exist, but it is rarely free in the sense of being independent from political oversight.

For an individual communist who personally maintains a religious belief, there may be no immediate conflict while they remain just one person within a broader society. Their faith and political ideology can coexist privately, as in the case of thinkers like José Carlos Mariátegui or Ernesto Cardenal. The tension typically arises when a communist movement attempts to establish a state, because orthodox communism as a governing system usually demands conformity to atheism and materialist ideology.

Once a communist state is formed, the political and legal structures of the state often conflict with independent religious practice. The state tends to subordinate religion to political goals, regulate religious institutions, and monitor or restrict spiritual activity. Religious leaders who hold political power or try to influence policy outside the state’s framework are often seen as a threat. This is why we see cases in the Soviet Union, China, and North Korea where even nominally religious individuals faced pressure, surveillance, or persecution once communism became the official system of governance.

So, the coexistence of communism and religion is usually manageable at the level of the individual or intellectual thought, but systemic conflict emerges when communism becomes a state apparatus with authority over society.

In a sense, communist ideology functions like a secular religion for its adherents. While classical Marxism-Leninism is officially atheist, it often elevates its doctrine to a moral and existential framework that demands absolute faith, obedience, and devotion, similar to religious practice. Core principles—such as class struggle, historical materialism, and the eventual triumph of the proletariat—are treated as immutable truths, guiding every aspect of personal and societal life.

Communist regimes often create rituals, symbols, and even sacred texts (like Mao’s Little Red Book or Lenin’s writings) that followers must internalise. Leaders are frequently idolised as prophets or saviors of the ideology, reinforcing the quasi-religious character of the movement. In this sense, the ideology itself becomes an object of worship, and dissent is treated as heresy. Ethical and moral questions are framed entirely through the lens of the ideology, rather than independent human judgment or universal principles.

This “religion of ideology” explains why communist states often exhibit zeal similar to religious fanaticism, including mass mobilisations, indoctrination of youth, and intolerance of opposing views. It also clarifies why personality cults and ideological orthodoxy are central: the system substitutes faith in God with faith in the revolutionary idea and the “prophetic” leader who embodies it.

Some also say, "Look at Putin, he's been reported in the media as respecting Islam." So, what exactly is his attitude toward religion in his own country?

Vladimir Putin’s public image certainly projects respect for religion, including Islam, especially in international media. In interviews and public events, he often highlights Russia’s multicultural and multi-religious heritage, meeting with Muslim leaders and attending Islamic celebrations. This has led some observers to suggest that Putin personally respects Islam and other religions.

However, the reality within Russia is more complex. Putin and the Russian state primarily support the Russian Orthodox Church, which is closely tied to national identity and state ideology. Other religions, including Islam, Judaism, and Buddhism, are officially recognised, but they operate under strict regulation. Religious organisations must register with the state, and there is heavy monitoring of religious activity, especially when it is seen as politically sensitive or linked to foreign influence. Muslim communities in Russia, particularly in regions like Chechnya and Dagestan, enjoy some autonomy and public support, but they are also under surveillance, and any form of dissent can be framed as extremism.

In essence, Putin’s public gestures of respect toward Islam reflect a strategic policy to manage Russia’s religiously diverse population and to bolster his image as a unifying leader. While there is a degree of religious freedom, it is conditional, carefully controlled, and subordinate to the state’s political interests.

The situations in China and North Korea are even more restrictive than in Russia when it comes to religion, although they are handled in very different ways. In China, the Communist Party officially promotes atheism, viewing religion as a potential source of social unrest or foreign influence. All religious organisations are required to register with the state and operate under strict government control. For example, Christian churches, Buddhist temples, and Islamic mosques are monitored, and unregistered or “underground” religious activity is often suppressed. The situation for Muslims, particularly Uyghurs in Xinjiang, has drawn international condemnation due to mass surveillance, forced indoctrination, and restrictions on traditional practices.

In North Korea, the regime treats religion as a threat to the absolute authority of the Kim family. Traditional religions like Buddhism and Christianity are virtually banned, with only state-controlled religious organisations allowed, mostly as a façade for international optics. The government prioritizes the Juche ideology, a political and quasi-religious cult of self-reliance around the Kim family, which replaces traditional spiritual belief entirely. Any private religious practice is severely punished and can be considered treasonous.

In short, while Russia allows a controlled pluralism for strategic reasons, China tolerates religion only under state supervision and suppresses dissent, and North Korea eliminates independent religious expression entirely, subordinating spiritual life to the political cult of the state.

It is largely accurate to say that most of the existing communist states came to power through violent or coercive means, though the details vary by country. In the 20th century, communist movements often relied on armed struggle, revolution, or civil war to overthrow existing governments. For example, the Bolsheviks seized power in Russia through the October Revolution of 1917, which involved street fighting, armed uprisings, and the eventual collapse of the provisional government. In China, the Chinese Communist Party under Mao Zedong consolidated power after a prolonged civil war against the Kuomintang, which included widespread military campaigns, guerrilla warfare, and substantial civilian suffering.

Vietnam experienced a decades-long struggle, first against French colonial rule and later against South Vietnam and its U.S. allies, resulting in massive casualties before the communist regime unified the country in 1975. Cuba’s revolution, led by Fidel Castro and Che Guevara, relied on guerrilla warfare and strategic insurrection to overthrow the Batista government. Even North Korea’s communist regime was established following the violent division of Korea and a brutal civil and proxy war.

The Black Book of Communism: Crimes, Terror, Repression (1999) offers a harrowing account of the extensive use of violence and repression by communist regimes throughout the 20th century. The book, authored by a team of European scholars, documents the systematic campaigns of terror, purges, forced labour, and executions carried out under leaders such as Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, and others. It argues that the implementation of communist ideology often relied on state-sponsored coercion, censorship, and terror to maintain power, resulting in millions of deaths and widespread suffering. The authors meticulously examine historical records to highlight the similarities between different communist regimes in their mechanisms of control and their disregard for human life. The work positions these acts not as isolated incidents but as an intrinsic feature of the totalitarian pursuit of a classless society, stressing the moral and human costs of enforcing ideological orthodoxy through violence.

According to the book, communist regimes were often founded and sustained through violent means. In the Soviet Union, for instance, the Bolshevik government executed tens of thousands of hostages and prisoners, and murdered hundreds of thousands of rebellious workers and peasants between 1918 and 1922. The Great Purge of the late 1930s saw the execution of numerous individuals, including intellectuals and political opponents, consolidating Stalin's absolute power. Similarly, in China, the communist government under Mao Zedong employed mass executions, forced labour camps, and purges to eliminate perceived enemies and enforce ideological conformity. The Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) was particularly notorious for its violent campaigns against intellectuals, perceived counter-revolutionaries, and traditional cultural elements.

The book also highlights the use of forced labour camps as a means of political repression. In the Soviet Union, the Gulag system subjected millions to brutal conditions, leading to high mortality rates. Similarly, in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge regime, forced labour camps were established where individuals were subjected to grueling work, starvation, and execution.

Purges were another common method employed by communist regimes to eliminate perceived threats. In Eastern Europe, Stalinist purges led to the execution and imprisonment of numerous individuals, including political leaders, military officials, and ordinary citizens. These purges were often based on arbitrary accusations and were used to instill fear and maintain control.

The human cost of communism, as detailed in The Black Book of Communism, is staggering. The book estimates that communist regimes were responsible for the deaths of over 94 million people through executions, man-made famines, forced labour, deportations, and other forms of repression. This figure underscores the extent to which violence and terror were integral to the establishment and maintenance of communist states.

While not every communist movement was identically violent, the historical pattern shows that armed struggle, coercion, and often bloodshed were central to the establishment of most communist states. Peaceful transitions to communism have been extremely rare.

From Indonesia’s perspective, communism remains fundamentally incompatible with the state ideology of Pancasila. Pancasila, established as the philosophical foundation of the Indonesian state, emphasises belief in God (Ketuhanan Yang Maha Esa), humanity (Kemanusiaan Yang Adil dan Beradab), national unity, democracy, and social justice. Communism, particularly in its orthodox Marxist-Leninist form, is atheistic and materialist, often rejecting religious belief and promoting class struggle over spiritual or moral considerations.

Historically, this incompatibility was one of the reasons why the Indonesian government banned the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) in 1966 following the events of 1965. The PKI’s atheistic ideology and efforts to implement Marxist principles were seen as threatening to the religious, social, and political fabric that Pancasila was designed to uphold. Even today, any movement promoting communism is viewed with suspicion and is legally restricted under laws that explicitly prohibit the dissemination of Marxist-Leninist teachings.

While some individuals might theoretically reconcile personal religious faith with communist ideas, as a political system and ideology, communism conflicts with the core principles of Pancasila, particularly its first principle which emphasises belief in God and its commitment to moral and ethical governance.

The commemoration of G30S/PKI feels like a flashback that makes us realise just how fragile a nation becomes when ideology turns into an uncontrollable monster. 30th September 1965 was not merely a historical date, but a real tragedy—six generals were killed, chaos reigned, and Indonesia was in severe shock. Imagine it: families of the victims shattered, communities panicking, and the country turned upside down.

This was not an action movie; this was real life, showing the dangers of blind fanaticism. That day urges us all to reflect, ensuring that political ambition never blinds us to humanity. The victims of G30S/PKI were real people, with families, dreams, and responsibilities to their nation. Their loss serves as a stark warning: ideology without ethics can bring the world crashing down. The impact was not limited to that night—Indonesian politics remained in turmoil for years.

Today, it prompts us to ask how a nation can avoid the allure of extremism. It is not merely about ideology, but about how ideology can destroy lives if left unchecked. G30S/PKI teaches that loyalty to ideology can sometimes overpower basic human compassion.

This reflection also touches on Indonesia’s core values: unity, social justice, and higher moral principles. Today encouraged us to safeguard Pancasila, balancing God, humanity, unity, democracy, and justice. Freedom is precious, and we must remain vigilant to prevent violence from recurring. Education becomes an essential weapon, so younger generations do not fall prey to extremism.

Studying history is not enough; critical thinking, empathy, and moral awareness are necessary. The commemoration of G30S/PKI acts as both a reminder to pray and a civic responsibility. We pray for those who died and commit ourselves to preventing further bloodshed. Each year, the nation pauses briefly, realising that peace is never guaranteed automatically.

The events of 1965 serve as a lens to view contemporary politics—are there signs of extremism? Are there authoritarian tendencies? Today urges us to resolve political differences through discussion, not bloodshed. Pluralism is a strength, but it must be continuously safeguarded, never allowed to crumble. G30S/PKI reminds us: ideology should serve humanity, not the other way around. It demonstrates the danger when ideology blinds people to empathy and justice.

Ceremonies, speeches, and moments of silence—all serve to remind the nation of its collective history. Remember history not through vengeance or politicisation, but through moral lessons. Transparency in history is crucial, so it cannot be easily manipulated. G30S/PKI teaches us about the human cost of fanaticism. We must not be complacent; political ambition and rigid ideology can destroy social trust.

Today also prompts reflection on leadership—leaders must be ethical, not merely power-hungry. The lives lost demonstrate that a leader’s responsibility is profoundly real. Citizens must also be active, because politics carries real consequences. By remembering, the people honour the victims while upholding principles of justice. It makes us realise the danger of blind obedience to political movements. 

This commemoration also strengthens national identity, as the struggles of history are preserved. This reflection urges each individual to consider how they respond to injustice or political manipulation. Personal responsibility is vital, protecting stability and ethics. Freedom is precious and must be continuously safeguarded. Peace, democracy, and social justice are ongoing projects, not static achievements.

The anniversary also provides space for cultural reflection: arts, literature, and media can express historical trauma. Being critical of the past allows us to imagine a future free from similar violence. G30S/PKI teaches the importance of dialogue, moderation, and ethical conduct in politics. History is not just facts; it shapes moral awareness.

Today strengthens collective morality; shared tragedy demands shared responsibility. Place humanity above ideology, empathy above fanaticism, and justice above blind loyalty. Ultimately, G30S/PKI is not merely history, but a moral compass for Indonesia: honour life, protect democracy, and resist extremism.

So that history is not forgotten, and the lessons of 1965 continue to guide the present and future of the nation. Young generations can read this while scrolling their timelines, yet still feel the weight of its moral message. G30S/PKI teaches that we must be critical, caring, and not easily swayed by dangerous ideology. Today is not only about mourning the past, but also about recharging the nation’s moral strength and spirit. All citizens are invited to pause, remember the victims, and uphold the commitment: politics serves life, not blood.

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