74th Milad Mubarak: Stay Healthy, Mr. Presiden!

Not all seeds are meant to be carried by the wind. Some are destined to root where they fall, embracing the soil that first received them. The breeze may whisper of faraway lands, of sunlight that seems gentler elsewhere, but the patient seed knows that true growth does not come from drifting—it comes from surrendering. For in stillness, it discovers strength; in confinement, it learns depth. The wind is freedom, yes—but not all freedoms lead to bloom.

Chairil Anwar wrote “Aku” before “Aku Berkaca.” The poem “Aku”, composed around 1943, stands as the fiery declaration of a young poet who had just found his voice in a world under oppression. It carries the raw defiance of someone who refuses to bow to fate or conformity. Each line bursts with youthful rage and courage, as though Chairil were shouting to the universe that he exists, even if the world chooses not to recognise him.

Aku 

[I]

Kalau sampai waktuku

[When my hour has come at last,]

’Ku mau tak seorang ’kan merayu

[I wish no soul would plead for me]

Tidak juga kau

[Not even you.]

Tak perlu sedu sedan itu

[No need for tears, nor wailing hearts.]

Aku ini binatang jalang

[I am a wild beast,]

Dari kumpulannya terbuang

[Banished from the herd of my own kind.]

Biar peluru menembus kulitku

[Though bullets tear into my flesh,]

Aku tetap meradang menerjang

[Still shall I rage and charge through flame.]

Luka dan bisa, kubawa berlari

[I bear my wounds and venomed pain,]

Berlari

[I run]

Hingga hilang pedih peri

[Till sorrow’s sting is lost in wind.]

Dan aku akan lebih tidak peduli

[And I shall care no more for all of this]

Aku mau hidup seribu tahun lagi.

[I wish to live for a thousand years].

Later came “Aku Berkaca”, written around 1944–1945, when the poet’s tone had shifted from the outward cry to an inward reflection. Here, Chairil seems older, more contemplative, and painfully aware of his own mortality. Instead of screaming against the world, he turns the gaze upon himself — as if facing his own shadow in a mirror. The rebellious fire remains, but it burns more quietly, more tragically, and with greater wisdom.

Aku Berkaca

[I Look Into the Mirror]

Aku berkaca

[I look into the mirror]

Bukan buat ke pesta

[Not for a party]

Ini muka penuh luka

[This face is full of wounds]

Siapa punya?

[Whose is it?]

Kudengar seru menderu

[I hear a roaring sound]

—dalam hatiku?—

[—within my heart?—]

Apa hanya angin lalu?

[Is it just the passing wind?]

Lagu lain pula

[Another song]

Menggelepar tengah malam buta

[Floundering in the dead of night]

Ah...!!!

Segala menebal, segala mengental

[Everything thickens, everything congeals]

Segala tak kukenal...!!

[Everything is unrecognizable...!!]

Selamat tinggal...!!!

[Farewell...!!!]

The progression between the two poems captures Chairil’s evolution as both a man and a writer. In “Aku”, rebellion is an explosion; in “Aku Berkaca”, rebellion becomes endurance. The wildness does not vanish — it deepens. The poet’s language grows leaner, his imagery sharper, his emotion distilled into something timeless. Through this transformation, Chairil Anwar moves from sheer defiance to existential acceptance, from the roar of life to the whisper of immortality.

Between “Aku” and “Aku Berkaca” lies the soul’s long corridor, echoing with two different tempests from the same heart. “Aku” is a declaration — fierce, untamed, and full of defiance. It rises like a storm against fate, against death, against the silence of being forgotten. In that poem, Chairil Anwar roars his existence into eternity; he claims the world, even as it crumbles around him. “I am this tempest,” he seems to cry, “I live, though all else falls.” His “Aku” is the poetry of rebellion — of a man who refuses to be erased.

But “Aku Berkaca” speaks with a quieter, darker voice — it is not the shout of life, but the whisper of recognition. Here, the poet no longer battles the world; he confronts himself. The mirror becomes his battlefield, the reflection his adversary. There are no victories in this gaze, only understanding. The wounds he once wore as proof of courage now appear as signs of weariness, of a self grown strange and heavy with time.

In “Aku”, the poet shouts to live forever; in “Aku Berkaca”, he whispers farewell to what he has become. The first poem is the anthem of resistance, while the second is the elegy of acceptance. Together, they are the inhale and exhale of the same soul — one burning to exist, the other learning to let go.

In reflecting on President Prabowo Subianto’s seventy-fourth birthday, one cannot help but draw a poetic parallel with Chairil Anwar’s timeless verses, “Aku” and “Aku Berkaca.” Like the defiant, searching voice in “Aku”, Prabowo’s journey through decades of service, struggle, and public scrutiny mirrors a relentless pursuit of self-definition and purpose. And as “Aku Berkaca” contemplates introspection and the clarity that comes from facing oneself, so too does a seasoned leader such as Prabowo embody reflection, learning, and a careful measure of action tempered by experience. In this light, his birthday becomes more than a celebration of years; it is a meditation on resilience, self-awareness, and the courage to lead with both conviction and humility.

President Prabowo Subianto was born on October 17, 1951, in Jakarta, Indonesia. He assumed office as the eighth President of Indonesia on October 20, 2024, following a decisive victory in the February 2024 presidential election. At 73 years old, he became the oldest person to assume the presidency in Indonesia's history. Yet, age in his case does not signify weakness, but rather wisdom refined through decades of service and struggle. His presence embodies strength, discipline, and a deep understanding of the nation’s past and future.

Despite his seniority, President Prabowo continues to demonstrate an energy and commitment that rival those of younger leaders. His speeches remain fiery, his handshake firm, and his policies bold in scope. Many view his leadership as a reminder that resilience and purpose matter more than age, and that Indonesia’s future can be shaped by experience just as powerfully as by youthful ambition. His birthday, therefore, is not merely a personal milestone but a moment for the nation to reflect on the enduring power of dedication and patriotism.

One could argue that Prabowo Subianto’s defeats in the 2014 and 2019 presidential elections were not true losses but rather delayed victories in the making. Politically, losing can be as instructive as winning, especially in a country like Indonesia, where public opinion is volatile and alliances shift rapidly. These “defeats” allowed Prabowo to recalibrate his strategy, expand his network, and reposition himself not as a mere challenger but as a kingmaker within the national political arena. In essence, the narrative of postponed triumph suggests that power in Indonesia is not just about immediate ballots, but about endurance, timing, and the ability to shape the story of the nation.

From a psychological and cultural perspective, framing defeat as a postponed victory reinforces Prabowo’s image as a resilient and strategic leader. It conveys that setbacks are part of a larger journey and that true leadership is measured not by immediate success but by the capacity to endure, adapt, and ultimately influence the course of the nation. In this sense, “losing” becomes a narrative device that strengthens his aura rather than diminishes it.

If Prabowo Subianto had won the Indonesian presidency in 2014 or 2019, the geopolitical landscape of Southeast Asia and beyond would likely have experienced a markedly different trajectory. Prabowo, known for his nationalist and militaristic outlook, often emphasised Indonesia’s sovereignty and strategic autonomy. Had he assumed office earlier, his approach to foreign policy might have been characterised by a stronger assertion of Indonesia’s interests, potentially prioritising defence and security partnerships over economic liberalisation and multilateral diplomacy.

A positive aspect of such an early presidency would have been Indonesia’s enhanced regional assertiveness. Under Prabowo, Indonesia might have projected more influence in ASEAN, asserting itself as a decisive power broker in disputes over the South China Sea or in mediating regional conflicts. A Prabowo-led administration could also have accelerated military modernisation and strategic independence, signalling to the world that Indonesia was less susceptible to external pressure, particularly from major powers like China or the United States. From a domestic perspective, this could have cultivated national pride and the perception of a strong, autonomous Indonesia.

However, the negatives of a Prabowo presidency in 2014 or 2019 could have been significant. His nationalist and sometimes protectionist economic policies might have strained relations with global trading partners, possibly slowing foreign investment and complicating integration into the global economy. Western nations, wary of his military background and occasional authoritarian rhetoric, might have adopted a cautious or even adversarial stance, potentially limiting diplomatic and economic cooperation. Furthermore, the internal balancing of democracy, human rights, and civil liberties could have been more challenging, provoking both domestic unrest and international criticism.

In contrast, the delayed victory in 2024 allowed Prabowo to enter the presidency with a geopolitical environment that had shifted: Indonesia’s economy had grown, alliances had evolved, and regional threats had become clearer. This delay arguably provided a strategic advantage, allowing Prabowo to calibrate his foreign and domestic policies in a way that was less reactive and more calculated. In other words, the postponed victory might have been geopolitically fortuitous, allowing him to consolidate power and navigate international pressures with a more mature and informed approach.

It can be argued that during President Joko Widodo’s tenure, Indonesia exhibited tendencies that could be described as “inward-looking,” though the situation is nuanced. If Indonesia were to hypothetically withdraw or remain absent from the United Nations for an entire decade under Jokowi’s administration, the consequences would be profound, both diplomatically and strategically. The United Nations functions as a global forum where Indonesia has historically exercised soft power, promoted its non-aligned principles, and contributed to peacekeeping missions. Absence would signal a retreat from multilateral diplomacy, diminishing Indonesia’s voice in critical international debates on climate change, maritime law, human rights, and regional security.

Regionally, ASEAN would feel the vacuum. Indonesia has long positioned itself as the de facto leader of Southeast Asia, leveraging its population, economy, and democratic credentials to mediate disputes and shape regional norms. Without Indonesia actively engaging at the UN, other regional powers—Singapore, Thailand, or even external actors like China—might fill the gap, thereby reducing Jakarta’s influence over the narrative and priorities of ASEAN.

Economically, an absence from UN mechanisms could indirectly weaken Indonesia’s leverage in trade negotiations, international development programs, and global financial institutions that often coordinate with UN agencies. It could also signal to foreign investors that Indonesia is stepping back from the rules-based global order, potentially affecting confidence and capital flows.

Domestically, such a move might feed nationalist narratives of self-reliance and sovereignty, but it would risk international isolation and diminish Indonesia’s capacity to shape global agendas that impact domestic priorities, from climate adaptation to maritime security. In short, a decade-long absence from the UN would compromise Indonesia’s diplomatic leverage, reduce its regional leadership role, and potentially slow economic and strategic gains on the global stage.

Today, Indonesia celebrates the birthday of President Prabowo Subianto, a figure whose journey through military service, politics, and national leadership has left a profound mark on the nation. Known for his unwavering focus on sovereignty, national defence, and strategic autonomy, Prabowo has cultivated an image of resilience and determination that resonates with many Indonesians. From his early years in the army to his current role at the helm of the country, his life reflects both the trials and the ambitions of a modern Indonesia navigating a complex world.

As President, Prabowo has sought to strengthen Indonesia from within while positioning the nation as a respected actor on the global stage. His leadership style, blending decisiveness with a keen understanding of domestic and international challenges, continues to shape policies that touch every corner of the archipelago. Today is an opportunity not only to celebrate his personal achievements but also to reflect on the broader vision he carries for Indonesia’s future—a vision that balances unity, security, and progress in a rapidly evolving world.

On this special occasion, Indonesians from all walks of life are reminded of the multifaceted role of the presidency: as a unifying force, a guardian of national interests, and a symbol of the nation’s aspirations. Whether through strategic initiatives, public engagements, or symbolic gestures, Prabowo’s impact is felt far beyond the halls of government, making his birthday a moment to acknowledge both the man and the office he holds.

The President of Indonesia is typically characterised by a combination of political pragmatism, strong public presence, and symbolic authority. Given the nation’s vast archipelago and diverse population, presidents often need to balance competing regional, ethnic, and religious interests while projecting national unity. They are expected to be decisive in domestic policy, especially in economic development, infrastructure, and social welfare, while also navigating the complexities of foreign relations in a strategically vital region.

In addition to administrative and policy skills, Indonesian presidents usually cultivate a personal image that resonates with the public. Charisma, media savviness, and the ability to communicate directly with citizens are essential traits. Many have also relied on a combination of party alliances and personal networks to secure both electoral victories and effective governance. While individual styles differ—some leaning more authoritarian, others more populist or technocratic—the common thread is the necessity to act as a unifying figure capable of guiding the nation through both internal challenges and the shifting dynamics of international politics.

President Prabowo Subianto exhibits many of the characteristics typically associated with Indonesian presidents, though with his own distinct style shaped by his military background and nationalist outlook. Like many of his predecessors, he must balance the diverse interests of Indonesia’s archipelagic population, integrating regional, ethnic, and religious considerations into a cohesive national agenda. In terms of domestic policy, Prabowo’s decisiveness and focus on sovereignty and strategic autonomy align with the traditional expectation that a president be a strong driver of economic development, national security, and social stability.

Prabowo also emphasises a personal image that resonates with certain segments of the population. His military career, combined with his public presence, cultivates an aura of authority and discipline. Unlike some technocratic or populist predecessors, he projects a nationalist, assertive persona that communicates strength and resilience, appealing particularly to voters who value sovereignty, defence, and a strong central leadership.

Diplomatically, Prabowo faces the challenge shared by all Indonesian presidents: to navigate a complex regional and global environment while maintaining domestic credibility. His approach to international relations—balancing assertiveness in defending Indonesia’s interests with measured engagement in multilateral forums—demonstrates an understanding of the traditional presidential role as both a unifying figure and a strategic negotiator on the world stage.

In sum, Prabowo exemplifies the core traits of Indonesian presidents: political pragmatism, domestic decisiveness, and a unifying symbolic presence, but he interprets them through the lens of his military experience and nationalist priorities, resulting in a leadership style that is assertive, disciplined, and sovereignty-focused.

From a political standpoint, Prabowo Subianto’s strength as President lies in his uncanny ability to project both authority and familiarity. He embodies a paradoxical mix of military firmness and populist charm — a man who can command a battalion and still make jokes about fried rice on national television. His political image has evolved from that of a fiery general to a seasoned statesman who understands the art of symbolic power, where silence can be as strategic as speech. This transformation has allowed him to win the trust of different factions, both within the military establishment and among the wider electorate, crafting an aura of stability in a country often divided by personality-driven politics.

Economically, Prabowo’s strength is his focus on national self-sufficiency and food security, themes that resonate deeply in a post-pandemic world anxious about supply chains. His emphasis on agrarian reform and domestic industry, though sometimes criticised as nostalgic or overly nationalist, taps into Indonesia’s collective longing for dignity and independence. He understands the emotional economy of the people — the idea that prosperity must also “feel” Indonesian. In this sense, his economic vision is not merely about numbers and trade balances, but about national pride and psychological sovereignty.

On the diplomatic front, Prabowo has positioned Indonesia as a bridge between East and West, North and South — a kind of geopolitical middle child who knows how to play both sides without losing face. His background in defence has given him the language of power, yet he speaks it with the cadence of peace. By balancing relations with the United States and China, while reinforcing ASEAN solidarity, Prabowo appears to be reviving Sukarno’s old dream of Indonesia as a leader of the Global South — confident, non-aligned, and unapologetically independent.

Culturally, Prabowo’s strength lies in his understanding of Indonesia’s yearning for strong leadership that feels rooted in tradition yet adaptable to modernity. He knows the nation’s psyche is built on symbols of power — the uniform, the horse, the salute — but he also recognises the importance of humour, humility, and the occasional viral meme. In this blend of command and charisma, Prabowo reflects a certain Javanese political philosophy: menang tanpa ngasorake—to win without humiliating. Prabowo appeared composed and elegant, as if quietly reminding everyone, “I am not him.” His actions were deliberate, measured, and carried out with a touch of grace.

The thesis that those who are poorly educated tend to use brute or crude methods to achieve victory, while those who are well-educated employ sophistication and subtlety, finds its grounding not merely in moral judgment but in observable social patterns. Education, in its truest sense, cultivates not only knowledge but also restraint — the ability to think beyond impulse, to strategise rather than strike. Individuals lacking this intellectual discipline often rely on raw force, intimidation, or deceit, because they perceive victory as domination rather than persuasion.

History offers countless illustrations of this dynamic. Authoritarian leaders, for instance, frequently resort to violence or suppression when faced with dissent — a reflection not only of moral deficiency but of intellectual insecurity. In contrast, skilled statesmen and enlightened reformers, from Mahatma Gandhi to Nelson Mandela, demonstrated how education refines the art of influence. They won not by crushing opponents but by outthinking them — transforming resistance into moral strength and conflict into dialogue.

Education equips the mind with the tools of subtle warfare — rhetoric, diplomacy, empathy, and foresight. The uneducated may win a battle through noise and chaos, but the educated win the war through clarity and composure. Thus, the thesis holds: knowledge civilises ambition, while ignorance brutalises it.

Therefore, in leadership, sound education — accompanied by broad insight, critical reasoning, emotional intelligence, and ethical grounding — becomes not merely desirable but essential. A well-educated leader not only understands the mechanics of governance but also the psychology of people, the rhythm of society, and the dynamics of the global order. Education sharpens discernment, allowing a leader to distinguish between what is popular and what is right, between fleeting applause and lasting progress.

A leader with intellectual depth and wide perspective is less likely to be driven by ego or impulse. Instead, they tend to lead through reflection, dialogue, and empathy — qualities that prevent chaos and nurture stability. Their decisions are guided not by instinct alone, but by analysis, foresight, and an awareness of history’s long arc. This is why nations led by educated minds often endure crises with composure and emerge stronger, while those led by the unlearned frequently crumble under the weight of short-term thinking and unchecked emotion.

Leadership, at its highest form, is not about dominance but direction — not about ruling over people, but guiding them towards something greater. And only an educated mind, fortified by moral wisdom and cultural awareness, can steer that course with grace, strategy, and vision.

Throughout history, nations have flourished or faltered depending on the intellectual and moral calibre of their leaders. Education does not guarantee perfection, but it equips leaders with the wisdom to choose stability over chaos and vision over vanity. In the world stage, one finds compelling examples: Franklin D. Roosevelt, despite his physical limitations, guided the United States through the Great Depression and the Second World War with strategic intellect and calm resolve. Lee Kuan Yew transformed Singapore from a struggling port into a global hub through a leadership style grounded in discipline, meritocracy, and an educated understanding of governance. Angela Merkel, trained as a physicist, navigated the European crises with logic, patience, and humility — qualities that earned her global respect.

In Indonesia, too, the impact of education on leadership is unmistakable. Sukarno, with his exposure to Western political thought and eloquent oratory, inspired a generation to believe in independence and national pride. His successor, Suharto, though less ideologically trained, utilised administrative pragmatism to stabilise a fragile post-colonial economy — albeit at the cost of political freedom. Later, figures like B. J. Habibie, with his mastery of aeronautical engineering and technological vision, showed that a leader with academic brilliance could steer Indonesia toward reform and innovation. Each of these leaders, in their own way, reflected how education — formal or experiential — becomes a compass guiding leadership through uncertain tides.

Education, then, is not merely a certificate but a discipline of the mind and the heart. It is what transforms authority into wisdom and power into purpose. The uneducated may lead with noise and fear; the educated lead with clarity, confidence, and conscience. And in a world so easily swayed by spectacle, that difference makes all the difference.

From a psychological standpoint, Prabowo Subianto’s greatest weakness stems from the same fire that fuels his charisma — his temperament. His emotional intensity, once a hallmark of military decisiveness, sometimes translates into impulsive reactions or theatrical displays that blur the line between passion and volatility. In moments of pressure, this intensity can seem less like leadership and more like a storm brewing behind the podium. It is the double-edged sword of his personality: his strength in command can also be his vulnerability in consensus.

Politically, Prabowo’s weakness lies in the over-centralisation of power and the cult of personality that tends to form around strong figures. His leadership style, forged in the rigid hierarchy of the military, sometimes struggles to translate into the collaborative, consultative rhythm of civilian politics. This creates a perception that loyalty is valued above competence, which can slow innovation and blunt critical voices. Indonesia’s democracy, already fragile, risks becoming too dependent on one man’s myth rather than the strength of its institutions.

Economically, his vision for national self-sufficiency, though noble in spirit, risks veering into protectionism. By prioritising domestic production over global integration, Indonesia could isolate itself from vital technological and trade opportunities. While Prabowo’s rhetoric of sovereignty inspires patriotic pride, it may also create an inward-looking mindset that limits growth. The challenge is to balance the hunger for independence with the necessity of interdependence — a balance that requires more technocracy than ideology.

On the diplomatic front, Prabowo’s pragmatic balancing act — between the West, China, and regional partners — can sometimes appear as indecision or opportunism. His efforts to please all sides risk diluting Indonesia’s moral voice on global issues such as human rights or climate justice. Diplomacy, after all, is not just about manoeuvring but about meaning. A nation that tries to be everyone’s friend may end up being no one’s ally.

Culturally, his old-school nationalism occasionally clashes with the digital generation’s demand for transparency and authenticity. Younger Indonesians, raised on memes, podcasts, and satire, often interpret traditional gestures of authority — the salute, the grand speech, the military march — as performance rather than sincerity. Prabowo’s challenge, therefore, is not just to rule effectively, but to translate his language of power into one that resonates with a generation that mistrusts grandeur.

Why speak of Prabowo’s frailties, one might ask? Because within them lies his most human truth. Strength may build a leader, but it is his vulnerability that reminds us he, too, is flesh, bound by hope and flaw alike. Is it not the very philosophy of our nation — humanity that is just and civilised — to see both might and mercy as parts of the same soul? To recognise his power is to prepare for the future; to reflect upon his weakness is to refine the path ahead. For only through honest scrutiny does greatness learn to endure.

In the end, Prabowo Subianto’s presidency is not merely the story of a man who rose to power — it is the story of a nation negotiating its identity between discipline and democracy, between pride and pragmatism. His strengths and weaknesses are woven from the same fabric: his conviction, his charisma, and his commanding presence. Where he brings order, he sometimes stifles debate; where he inspires unity, he risks uniformity. Yet, in the vast, restless landscape of Indonesian politics, his figure stands as a symbol of continuity — a leader who, for better or worse, embodies the country’s yearning for strength in uncertain times.

In truth, Prabowo’s presidency reveals an Indonesia caught between nostalgia and necessity. The nostalgia for order, glory, and grandeur — and the necessity for reform, innovation, and inclusion. If he can reconcile these two impulses, he may yet redefine what it means to be a strong leader in the 21st century: not by ruling through fear or spectacle, but by transforming power into purpose.

On this day, the wind carries whispers of honour — for a man whose footsteps have echoed across the fields of duty and the corridors of power. Prabowo Subianto, born of Jakarta’s restless heart, now stands as the guardian of a nation’s dream. Seventy-four years of breath and battle, yet his spirit remains unbroken, like steel that bends only to strengthen. Age has not dimmed his flame; it has deepened it, turning fire into light and passion into wisdom.

He walks not as one burdened by time, but as one refined by it. His words weigh with the gravity of history, yet rise with the hope of tomorrow. In his gaze, the archipelago finds its reflection — vast, fierce, and full of promise. Today, as the Republic salutes him, it is not only the man they celebrate, but the endurance of faith, courage, and devotion that he represents. For leaders may come and go, but conviction, once born of sincerity, lives beyond the years.

And as a closing, in the quiet dawn of existence, the Prophet ﷺ spoke of two treasures that slip like sand through heedless fingers — health and time. He warned that many walk upon the earth rich with strength and hours, yet poor in gratitude. Health, he said, is a vessel of divine mercy — a silent blessing that allows the soul to bow, the hands to give, and the heart to hope. When the body ails, even gold feels weightless; when the veins pulse with life, even a crumb tastes like a feast.

To awaken each morning in safety, to breathe without pain, to eat without fear — such is the unseen kingdom of contentment. The Messenger ﷺ declared that whoever possesses safety, health, and sustenance for a day has, in truth, been granted the whole world. It is not marble palaces or crowns that define fortune, but the quiet rhythm of a heart still beating, a mind still clear, and limbs still obedient to purpose.

Thus, health is not merely the absence of pain; it is the presence of divine favour. It is a reminder that our bodies are not our own but borrowed trusts — gardens to be tended with gratitude, not wasted in neglect. The wise see health as time’s twin: fleeting, precious, and irreplaceable. And only when the candle flickers near its end do most realise how radiant its flame once was.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President. May health accompany you always, and may your leadership guide this nation with unwavering strength toward the noble dreams envisioned by our founding fathers. May every step you take be blessed, every decision enlightened, and every effort fruitful. Amen, O Lord of all worlds.

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