Is Pancasila Truly Powerful?

In the aftermath of the Second World War, the United States became profoundly anxious about the spread of communism, viewing it not merely as a rival ideology but as an existential threat to the American way of life. The Soviet Union’s expansion into Eastern Europe and the unexpected communist victory in China under Mao Zedong fuelled fears that communism was on the march globally. This paranoia was compounded by the Soviet Union’s successful detonation of an atomic bomb in 1949, which shattered America’s monopoly on nuclear power and intensified the sense of vulnerability. It is similar to what happened in Indonesia after 1965 and during the New Order era, where the descendants of people suspected of being PKI members had their movements restricted.

Domestically, the fear manifested in what became known as the Red Scare, a period of intense suspicion and ideological witch-hunts. Senator Joseph McCarthy capitalised on this hysteria, claiming to possess lists of communists embedded within the government, the media, and academia. Although many of his accusations lacked evidence, they nonetheless stoked public anxiety and led to widespread investigations, firings, and blacklisting. The American government, under the Truman Doctrine, shifted from isolationism to a policy of containment, believing that if one nation fell to communism, others would follow like dominoes. Thus, the United States saw itself as the global guardian of capitalism and democracy, intervening in Korea, Vietnam, and Cuba to halt the perceived communist tide.

Throughout the Cold War and beyond, the United States enlisted a wide array of nations to help contain the spread of communism. In Europe, it rallied Western allies such as the United Kingdom, France, West Germany, and Italy through NATO and the Marshall Plan, aiming to fortify democratic institutions and rebuild war-torn economies. In Asia, South Korea, Japan, Thailand, and the Philippines became key partners, with the US providing military support and economic aid to resist communist insurgencies and influence. The creation of SEATO (Southeast Asia Treaty Organization) further formalised this regional cooperation.

The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) was an intergovernmental military alliance formed on 8 September 1954, under the Southeast Asia Collective Defence Treaty signed in Manila. It officially came into operation in February 1955, with its headquarters based in Bangkok, Thailand. SEATO was modelled after NATO and aimed to prevent communist expansion in Southeast Asia, particularly in the wake of conflicts in Korea and Indochina.

Its founding members included Australia, France, New Zealand, Pakistan, the Philippines, Thailand, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Interestingly, only two of these—Thailand and the Philippines—were actually located in Southeast Asia. Other nations like Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos were not formal members due to restrictions from the Geneva Agreements but were still protected under SEATO protocols.

SEATO never had its own standing army; instead, it relied on joint military exercises and the mobile forces of its member states. While its military impact was limited and often criticised as ineffective, SEATO did fund cultural and educational initiatives that left a lasting imprint in the region. The organisation was eventually dissolved on 30 June 1977, as member interest waned and internal disagreements grew

In Latin America, countries like Guatemala, the Dominican Republic, and Chile were drawn into the anti-communist fold—sometimes through covert CIA operations that supported regime change. In the Middle East and Africa, Iran, the Congo, and Angola saw American involvement aimed at curbing Soviet-aligned movements. Even Australia joined the effort, contributing troops to conflicts like the Vietnam War. These alliances were often pragmatic, driven less by shared values and more by strategic necessity in the global chessboard of Cold War politics.

American interventions, particularly during the Cold War, left a complex legacy across the globe. In Western Europe, US support through the Marshall Plan and NATO helped rebuild economies and solidify democratic institutions, contributing to long-term stability. However, in regions like Southeast Asia and Latin America, the consequences were far more turbulent. In Vietnam, the US-backed war led to immense destruction, loss of life, and eventual withdrawal, culminating in a communist victory. In Chile and Guatemala, covert CIA operations to oust left-leaning governments resulted in authoritarian regimes, human rights abuses, and decades of political unrest.

In the Middle East and Africa, American involvement often prioritised anti-communist loyalty over democratic values, backing regimes that suppressed dissent. While some countries benefited from economic aid and military protection, others suffered from civil wars, coups, and deepened divisions. The overarching impact was the entrenchment of a bipolar world order, where nations were pressured to choose sides, sometimes at the expense of their own sovereignty and social cohesion.

Among all nations entangled in the Cold War, Vietnam stands out as the most profoundly affected by American anti-communist policy. The United States, driven by the domino theory—the belief that if one country fell to communism, neighbouring states would follow—committed vast resources to prevent a communist takeover in South Vietnam. This culminated in a brutal and protracted conflict, the Vietnam War, which lasted nearly two decades and involved extensive bombing campaigns, ground combat, and chemical warfare, such as the use of Agent Orange.

The war left deep scars: millions of Vietnamese civilians and soldiers perished, infrastructure was devastated, and the country was left politically and economically fractured. Despite American efforts, the war ended in 1975 with the fall of Saigon and the unification of Vietnam under communist rule. The legacy of this intervention continues to shape Vietnam’s socio-political landscape and remains a defining chapter in American foreign policy history.

Beyond Vietnam, several nations experienced profound consequences due to American anti-communist policies. In Latin America, Chile saw the overthrow of democratically elected President Salvador Allende in 1973, with US support for General Pinochet’s military coup, leading to years of dictatorship and human rights abuses. Guatemala faced similar turmoil in 1954 when the CIA backed a coup against President Jacobo Árbenz, fearing his land reforms were communist-inspired.

In Asia, Indonesia underwent a dramatic shift in 1965 when the US covertly supported General Suharto’s rise to power, resulting in mass killings of alleged communists and the fall of President Sukarno. Iran’s 1953 coup, orchestrated by the US and UK, replaced Prime Minister Mossadegh with the Shah, prioritising anti-communist stability over democratic governance. Cuba, meanwhile, became a Cold War flashpoint after the failed Bay of Pigs invasion and the Cuban Missile Crisis, both driven by US efforts to topple Fidel Castro’s communist regime.

Hari Kesaktian Pancasila, commemorated annually on 1 October, marks Indonesia’s resilience against the attempted communist coup in 1965. It is a symbolic reaffirmation of the nation’s ideological foundation—Pancasila—as a bulwark against totalitarianism and ideological extremism. In this context, Indonesia’s alignment with American anti-communist policy during the Cold War wasn’t merely strategic; it was also ideological, positioning Pancasila as a “third way” between Western liberalism and Eastern communism.

In British English, the word sakti is often rendered as “sacred power” or “mystical potency,” carrying connotations of something extraordinary that transcends ordinary human ability, yet not necessarily tied to organised religion. It suggests an aura of invincibility, as though an individual, object, or principle possesses a special strength that makes it untouchable or resilient. The nuance is less about physical power and more about a symbolic or supernatural force that grants protection or success. In American English, the word sakti is usually translated as “magical power” or “mystic force,” evoking a slightly more dramatic or fantastical tone, closer to comic-book imagery where heroes possess powers beyond the natural realm. In both contexts, however, it implies an energy or authority that cannot be explained by reason alone, something that belongs more to cultural belief and imagination than to science or politics.

The Garuda Pancasila, Indonesia’s national emblem, encapsulates this ideological stance. Each of its five symbols represents a principle of Pancasila: belief in one God, just and civilised humanity, unity, democracy, and social justice. These values stood in stark contrast to the atheistic and class-struggle-driven tenets of communism. Thus, the emblem isn’t just decorative—it’s declarative, asserting Indonesia’s philosophical independence amid global ideological warfare.

Many countries across the world have chosen birds as national symbols, not merely for their beauty but for the deeper meanings they carry—cultural, spiritual, and political. The United States, for instance, adopted the Bald Eagle to represent strength, freedom, and independence, qualities deemed essential to the American spirit.

The bald eagle serves as the central emblem on the Great Seal of the United States, adopted officially on 20 June 1782 by the Continental Congress, because it embodies profound symbolic meanings that align closely with the core values of the American nation. This choice emerged during the post-Revolutionary War era, when the Founding Fathers sought a powerful icon to represent the newly independent country's strength and aspirations; although Benjamin Franklin once suggested the turkey as a more humble alternative, the bald eagle prevailed due to its majestic presence, drawing from ancient Roman and European traditions where eagles symbolised imperial power and grandeur. As a native predator of North America, the bald eagle, scientifically known as Haliaeetus leucocephalus, stands out for its remarkable physical prowess, including a wingspan reaching up to 2.3 metres and flight speeds of around 160 kilometres per hour, which evoke military might and national resilience in defending freedom. It also represents liberty and independence, soaring freely across vast skies to mirror the democratic ideals, individual rights, and the enduring "American Dream" spirit. Furthermore, the bird's longevity—often living up to 30 years in the wild—symbolises endurance, stability, and the protective family bonds that underpin societal values. Being endemic to North America, excluding Hawaii, it underscores a unique American identity, distinguishing the nation from others. In the seal's design, the eagle clutches 13 arrows in its left talon for readiness in war and an olive branch with 13 leaves and fruits in its right for peace, turning its head towards the latter to emphasise a preference for harmony; it holds a scroll in its beak inscribed with the Latin motto E Pluribus Unum, meaning "Out of Many, One," which highlights unity from diversity, much like Indonesia's Bhinneka Tunggal Ika. Above its head, 13 stars form a constellation, reinforcing the original 13 colonies' federation. This symbolism traces back to ancient civilisations, such as the Romans who viewed the eagle as a solar emblem and king of birds, a motif echoed in other nations like Russia with its double-headed eagle. In Native American cultures, it holds sacred status as a spiritual messenger of justice. Overall, the bald eagle transcends mere wildlife to encapsulate America's philosophy: robust yet peaceful, liberated yet cohesive. It was only legally enshrined as the national bird in December 2024 by President Joe Biden, solidifying its role in flags, military insignia, and currency after over two centuries of informal prominence.

The Garuda Pancasila, as Indonesia's national emblem, shares several striking similarities with the bald eagle featured in the Great Seal of the United States, both serving as powerful avian symbols that encapsulate the essence of their respective nations' identities, strengths, and aspirations. At their core, both birds represent unyielding power and courage, drawing from ancient mythological and natural inspirations to embody the resilience and dynamism of their peoples; the Garuda, rooted in Hindu-Buddhist lore as the mythical mount of the god Vishnu and akin to a majestic eagle or rajawali, mirrors the bald eagle's status as a fierce North American predator, symbolising imperial might from Roman traditions that influenced early American iconography. This shared avian form underscores a universal archetype of the "king of birds," evoking freedom and sovereignty, with the Garuda's expansive wings poised for flight signifying Indonesia's dynamic spirit in upholding national honour, much like the bald eagle's outstretched wings and sharp gaze convey America's readiness to defend liberty against threats. Furthermore, both emblems emphasise a profound commitment to unity amid diversity, as seen in the mottos they bear: the bald eagle clutches a scroll in its beak proclaiming E Pluribus Unum—"Out of Many, One"—which parallels the Garuda's talons gripping a white ribbon inscribed with Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, meaning "Unity in Diversity," both philosophies celebrating the fusion of varied elements into a cohesive whole, reflective of the 13 original American colonies and Indonesia's multifaceted ethnic tapestry. In their designs, the birds hold dual symbols of peace and preparedness for conflict, with the bald eagle grasping 13 olive branches in one talon for harmony and 13 arrows in the other for defence, akin to how the Garuda's protective posture and the shield on its chest—housing the five emblems of Pancasila—represent Indonesia's balanced ideals of justice, prosperity, and national defence. Additionally, both integrate numerical symbolism tied to foundational dates: the Garuda's feathers total 17 on each wing, 45 on the neck, 19 at the tail base, and 8 on the tail to denote 17 August 1945, Indonesia's independence day, while the bald eagle's elements repeatedly invoke the number 13 for America's 13 founding states. The golden hue of the Garuda, denoting nobility and glory, also resonates with the bald eagle's majestic white head and the emblem's overall aura of grandeur, reinforcing themes of endurance and cultural uniqueness— the Garuda as an indigenous mythical bird for Indonesia's archipelago, and the bald eagle as an endemic species exclusive to North America. These parallels highlight how both nations, emerging from struggles for independence, crafted emblems that inspire patriotism and vigilance, blending natural prowess with philosophical depth to foster a sense of collective purpose and protection.

India selected the Indian Peafowl, or Peacock, for its grace and divine associations in Hindu mythology, where it is linked to gods and royalty. Mexico chose the Golden Eagle, a bird central to Aztec legend, symbolising courage and the founding of their ancient capital, Tenochtitlán. In the Philippines, the Philippine Eagle stands as a symbol of power and biodiversity, being one of the rarest and most majestic raptors in the world. Japan honours the Green Pheasant, a bird steeped in folklore and known for its vibrant plumage and distinctive call. New Zealand’s Kiwi, a flightless bird found nowhere else, represents uniqueness and resilience, so much so that “Kiwi” has become a nickname for the people themselves. South Africa’s Blue Crane is revered for its elegance and balance, often seen as a symbol of peace and prosperity. These birds are not just national mascots—they are living metaphors, chosen to reflect the soul of a nation.

Pancasila is called sakti—meaning sacred, powerful, and untouchable—because it has withstood ideological storms, political upheavals, and attempts to dismantle the nation’s philosophical foundation. It is not merely a set of principles written on paper; it is a living ideology that has proven its resilience in moments of national crisis. The term kesaktian evokes a sense of mystical strength, but in the context of Pancasila, it refers to its ability to unify a diverse archipelago, repel extremist ideologies, and remain relevant across generations.

The most emblematic moment of this “sakti” status was in 1965, when Indonesia faced an attempted coup linked to communist forces. Amid chaos and fear, Pancasila was reaffirmed as the ideological backbone of the nation. It became the rallying point for national unity, a shield against ideological fragmentation, and a moral compass in turbulent times. Its five principles—belief in God, humanity, unity, democracy, and social justice—acted like layers of defence, each one countering the threat of totalitarianism, atheism, and class-based division. That is why 1 October is commemorated as Hari Kesaktian Pancasila—not just to remember a failed coup, but to honour the enduring strength of an idea that refused to be erased.

The sacredness—or kesaktian—of Pancasila is deeply intertwined with the mythological figure of Garuda, not just as a visual emblem but as a philosophical guardian. In Indonesian state symbolism, Garuda is not merely a decorative bird; it is a mythic creature drawn from ancient Hindu epics, particularly the Mahabharata, where Garuda is portrayed as a divine being of immense strength, loyalty, and moral clarity. By placing Pancasila on the chest of Garuda, Indonesia isn’t just branding its ideology—it’s invoking a cosmic protector, a spiritual firewall against threats to national integrity.

Garuda’s posture—wings spread, talons firm, gaze forward—embodies vigilance and readiness. It’s as if the bird itself is saying, “I carry the soul of this nation, and I will defend it.” The five feathers on each wing, tail, and neck aren’t random; they symbolise the five principles of Pancasila, woven into the anatomy of the creature. This fusion of myth and ideology elevates Pancasila from a political framework to a sacred covenant, guarded by a being that transcends time and politics.

The association between the so-called “sacred power” of Pancasila and the mythical Garuda bird is not a coincidence but rather a deliberate act of symbolism that combines cultural mythology with political necessity. In Hindu-Buddhist tradition, Garuda was not merely a bird but a cosmic guardian, a fearless warrior who fought against chaos, often symbolised by serpents or nagas. By the time this mythology reached Java and Bali, Garuda had become a cultural emblem of strength and protection, a figure carved into temples such as Prambanan and Kidal, representing order and balance in the universe.

When Indonesia achieved independence, the founding fathers needed a national symbol that resonated with local heritage yet commanded universal respect. Garuda was chosen precisely because it was deeply rooted in the cultural imagination, while at the same time majestic enough to be reimagined as a modern national emblem. The Garuda Pancasila was thus crafted to embody not just a bird of legend, but a living protector of the nation’s guiding philosophy. Its wings, feathers, and shield were designed to encode the nation’s birth date and the five principles that formed its ideological foundation.

The notion of the “sacredness” of Pancasila gained political force after the events of 1965, when it was proclaimed as the ideology that triumphed over communism. In this context, Garuda became more than decoration; it became a visualisation of Pancasila’s resilience. Just as Garuda in mythology stood firm against monstrous serpents, the Garuda Pancasila was imagined to guard the nation against ideological threats. Thus, the mythic strength of the bird and the political narrative of the state became intertwined in a potent symbol that fused spirituality with authority.

To understand the relationship between the “sacredness” of Pancasila and the Garuda as a national symbol without falling into mystical or idolatrous interpretations, one must approach it through the lens of culture, history, and political philosophy rather than metaphysical belief. Garuda, in this context, is not a supernatural being that lends divine powers to Pancasila, but rather a cultural metaphor chosen to embody strength, protection, and resilience. By adopting Garuda as the national emblem, Indonesia did not sanctify a mythological creature; instead, it used a familiar image from its historical and cultural memory to represent collective ideals. In this way, Garuda functions as a powerful piece of political iconography, a symbol that communicates unity and courage, while Pancasila itself remains the intellectual and moral foundation of the nation.

The “sacredness” of Pancasila is not about magical invincibility, but about its role as a unifying principle forged by consensus among Indonesia’s diverse peoples. Its power lies in its ability to provide a shared framework for coexistence, preventing fragmentation in a country of immense plurality. Garuda merely serves as the artistic and cultural medium through which that message is expressed. To view Garuda as a mythological protector is to misread its purpose; its role is symbolic, not spiritual. The true strength of Pancasila does not rest on wings of gold or legends of cosmic battles, but on the lived reality of citizens who choose to uphold it as the guiding philosophy of their nation.

In a satirical light, one might say that two Garudas are flying across the Indonesian imagination. The first is the mystical Garuda, soaring through the clouds like a divine warrior, its wings shimmering with supernatural power, ready to strike down ideological enemies with bolts of cosmic lightning. This is the Garuda of fantasy, the one imagined as if Pancasila were a magical spell capable of making the nation immune to chaos. It is colourful, dramatic, and perhaps comforting to those who prefer their politics dressed in myth. Yet it risks turning a philosophy into folklore, blurring the line between rational unity and mythical escapism.

The second is the political Garuda, not flying in the heavens but perched firmly on state documents, schools, government offices, and currency notes. This Garuda does not breathe fire or battle serpents; instead, it quietly reminds citizens that their strength lies in collective agreement, not in divine intervention. Its golden feathers are not weapons but symbols, its shield not armour but a visual summary of principles forged by human consensus. This Garuda embodies the simple truth that Pancasila survives not through mysticism but through the commitment of people who live by it. In this sense, the political Garuda is less glamorous but far more real, for it is anchored in the choices and responsibilities of the nation’s citizens.

The contrast between the mystical and political Garuda reveals the tension between myth and reason. To indulge in the mystical Garuda is to embrace a comforting illusion that ideology itself can fly unaided. To stand with the political Garuda is to accept that the true “sacredness” of Pancasila lies not in invisible wings but in visible action, not in heavenly battles but in earthly solidarity. Satire, therefore, pokes fun at those who expect Garuda to fight their battles for them, while quietly reminding us that the nation’s strength depends on people, not on myths.

However, if examined more critically, the sanctity of Pancasila does not stem from Garuda’s mythical might, but from the collective agreement of the Indonesian people to uphold it as the nation’s unifying philosophy. Garuda is, in truth, a symbolic vessel, a majestic metaphor through which the ideology is visualised, made emotionally powerful, and carried into the imagination of the people. Without Pancasila, Garuda would be just another mythological creature; without Garuda, Pancasila might lack the same iconic resonance. The power lies not in myth alone, but in the marriage between cultural imagination and political will.

Honestly, the so-called “sacred power” of Pancasila isn’t some hidden cheat code that zaps problems away while you binge-watch TikTok. It’s more like the ultimate teamwork skill—if everyone actually uses it. Pancasila’s power comes from the everyday hustle of ordinary people making choices, paying attention to each other, and trying not to let chaos take over the group chat of the nation. Garuda, flashy and golden, might look like it could swoop in and drop lightning bolts on troublemakers, but in reality, it’s just a cool logo on passports, money, and government offices reminding us: “Hey, remember why we’re in this together.”

At the end of the day, the real “sakti” isn’t in the wings or the myth—it’s in us. It’s in every neighbour who respects differences, every citizen who debates politely instead of trolling online, and every person who actually tries to live by the shared values rather than just posting memes about them. Garuda adds the drama, the branding, the epic aesthetic—basically the Instagram filter for Pancasila—but the true power comes from human action. So yes, Pancasila is sakti, but not because of magic—it’s sakti because we make it work together, every day.

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