Is President Prabowo Losing Ground?

As Indonesia grapples with the competing demands of economic growth, social transformation, and political stability, the question of whether President Prabowo Subianto is losing ground has become increasingly relevant. His ambitious free lunch programme, designed to feed millions of schoolchildren, was initially hailed as a bold attempt to tackle child malnutrition, yet its execution has been marred by logistical failures, budgetary strains, and even cases of food poisoning, raising doubts about his ability to translate populist promises into effective governance. At the same time, his carefully cultivated image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate with younger Indonesians, many of whom are either unaware of or indifferent to his controversial past, suggesting that charisma and social media appeal may still shield him from political fallout. Nevertheless, the persistence of protests against cuts to local government budgets and the perception of oligarchic dominance in national politics highlight the fragility of his support base, particularly among those who feel excluded from the benefits of his policies. In this context, Prabowo’s popularity appears caught between the promise of reform and the reality of stagnation, leaving observers to wonder whether his current standing represents a temporary plateau or the beginning of a gradual decline.

Public frustration over the handling of the recent disasters in Sumatra has grown steadily, with many citizens and community leaders expressing dissatisfaction at what they perceive to be a slow and poorly coordinated response. The floods and landslides that struck Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra displaced more than a million people, destroyed bridges and homes, and left communities struggling to access food, clean water, and medical care. Although the government has mobilised resources, complaints have centred on the lack of adequate funding, the reliance on the military to cover costs from its own budget, and the limited logistical support provided by the national disaster agency. The perception that the state has been slow to act, combined with the scale of devastation, has fuelled a sense of neglect and deepened mistrust in national disaster management, leaving many to question whether the government is capable of protecting its citizens in times of crisis.

Recently, the BBC World Service raised the question of whether President Prabowo Subianto’s popularity in Indonesia is beginning to fade. In its discussion, correspondents highlighted the contrast between his ambitious promises, such as the nationwide free lunch programme, and the difficulties of turning those pledges into effective policies. They noted that while his carefully cultivated image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate with younger voters, mounting protests, budgetary strains, and cases of food poisoning linked to the programme have cast doubt on his ability to sustain the same level of support he enjoyed during the election. The conversation suggested that Prabowo’s popularity, once buoyed by charisma and social media appeal, may now be vulnerable to the realities of governance and the frustrations of a public that expects more than symbolic gestures.

The conversation revolves around Indonesia’s current president, Prabowo Subianto, and the ambitious free lunch programme he has launched to provide meals for eighty‑three million schoolchildren every day. The speakers reflect on how this policy, though well‑intentioned in tackling child malnutrition and stunting, has been plagued by problems of execution, high costs, and even cases of food poisoning. They note that Prabowo’s leadership style is highly personalised, top‑down, and impatient, in sharp contrast to his predecessor Joko Widodo’s more measured approach.

The discussion also traces Prabowo’s long and complex history: his elite family background, his rise as commander of Indonesia’s special forces and son‑in‑law of Suharto, his disgrace and exile after the fall of Suharto, and his eventual reinvention as a “gemoy” or cheek‑pinchingly cute grandfather figure popular among young Indonesians on TikTok. This reinvention has allowed him to win the presidency in 2024, despite his controversial past.

The speakers highlight Indonesia’s paradox: it is the fourth most populous nation and the largest economy in South‑East Asia, yet it often fails to project significant global influence and is frequently described as “punching below its weight.” They argue that domestic challenges, oligarchic structures, and political amnesia among the younger generation have hindered Indonesia’s ability to fully realise its potential.

Finally, they discuss Prabowo’s decision to name Suharto a national hero, which provoked little public outrage, suggesting either nostalgia or deliberate forgetting of the authoritarian past. The conversation closes on a sober note: Indonesia remains an oligarchy dominated by powerful business elites, and despite the optimism of reform after Suharto’s fall, little has changed in the underlying structures of power. The future of Prabowo’s presidency, and that of Indonesia itself, remains unsettled.

The speakers did not make a firm prediction that President Prabowo’s popularity will inevitably decline, but they did suggest that his support is already facing strains. They observed that although his public profile remains high, the ambitious free lunch programme has encountered serious difficulties, including budgetary pressures, food poisoning incidents, and widespread protests against cuts to local government funding. These problems illustrate the gap between populist promises made during the election campaign and the realities of policy implementation. At the same time, they acknowledged that Prabowo’s carefully crafted image as a “gemoy” grandfather figure continues to resonate strongly with younger Indonesians, many of whom are either unaware of or indifferent to his controversial past. In essence, the conversation implied that his popularity may be vulnerable if the failures of execution persist, but for now, it is sustained by his social media appeal and the political amnesia of a youthful electorate.

The potential decline in President Prabowo’s popularity can be understood through several interconnected dimensions. Ideologically, his reliance on populist promises such as the free lunch programme risks eroding trust if these initiatives fail to deliver tangible improvements. Philosophically, his leadership style, which is highly centralised and driven by personal ambition, may alienate those who value consensus, transparency, and institutional strength. Politically, the concentration of power within a loyalist circle and the perception of oligarchic dominance could provoke disillusionment among citizens who expect democratic accountability. Economically, the enormous costs of his flagship programme, coupled with unrealistic growth targets, may generate frustration if fiscal pressures lead to cuts in other essential services or if promised prosperity does not materialise. Socially, the persistence of inequality, corruption, and youth unemployment could undermine the appeal of his “gemoy” persona, especially if younger generations begin to connect their hardships with his governance. Culturally, the deliberate amnesia surrounding Indonesia’s authoritarian past may not endure indefinitely; if historical memory resurfaces, his association with Suharto and the military could tarnish his image. Taken together, these factors suggest that while his popularity is currently buoyed by charisma and social media, it remains vulnerable to ideological contradictions, philosophical tensions, political realities, economic disappointments, social grievances, and cultural reckonings.

The possibility that President Prabowo’s popularity might remain static rather than rise or fall can be explained through a combination of ideological, philosophical, political, economic, social, and cultural factors. Ideologically, his populist promises may neither fully succeed nor completely fail, leaving the public in a state of cautious acceptance rather than enthusiasm or rejection. Philosophically, his centralised and decisive style of leadership may continue to appeal to those who value strong authority, while simultaneously frustrating those who prefer consensus, thus producing a balance that prevents either significant gains or losses in popularity. Politically, the entrenched oligarchic structures of Indonesia mean that power is often recycled among elites, creating a sense of continuity that stabilises his position without generating fresh excitement. Economically, if growth remains moderate and the free lunch programme continues to function at a basic level without dramatic success or collapse, the public may simply adjust to the status quo, neither rewarding nor punishing him. Socially, younger generations may persist in their indifference to his past while tolerating present shortcomings, which sustains a plateau of support. Culturally, the deliberate amnesia surrounding Suharto and the authoritarian legacy may endure just enough to prevent backlash, but not enough to inspire renewed admiration. In this scenario, Prabowo’s popularity would remain steady, caught between competing forces that neutralise one another, resulting in stagnation rather than movement.

The rise of President Prabowo’s popularity could be facilitated by a convergence of ideological, philosophical, political, economic, social, and cultural circumstances. Ideologically, if his populist vision of providing free lunches succeeds in visibly reducing child malnutrition and stunting, it would reinforce the perception that he is a leader who delivers on promises, thereby strengthening public trust. Philosophically, his decisive and centralised style of leadership may resonate with a society that values strong authority and swift action, particularly in times of uncertainty, allowing his image as a firm and pragmatic leader to flourish. Politically, his ability to consolidate power within loyalist networks while projecting stability could reassure both elites and ordinary citizens, creating a sense of continuity that enhances his standing. Economically, if Indonesia experiences steady growth, improved infrastructure, and tangible benefits from his policies, the public may associate prosperity with his leadership, thereby rewarding him with greater support. Socially, his carefully cultivated “gemoy” persona may continue to charm younger generations, especially if combined with policies that address their immediate concerns such as jobs, education, and digital opportunities. Culturally, the persistence of selective amnesia regarding Indonesia’s authoritarian past may allow his reinvention to remain convincing, while his invocation of national pride and historical continuity could further endear him to the public. In such a scenario, Prabowo’s popularity would rise not only because of charisma and social media appeal, but also because his governance would appear to deliver concrete improvements aligned with the aspirations of a diverse and youthful nation.

History shows that succeeding a failed leader is often more curse than blessing. For example, Gerald Ford in the United States inherited the presidency after Richard Nixon’s resignation in 1974. Although Ford himself was not implicated in the Watergate scandal, his decision to pardon Nixon meant that he remained trapped in the shadow of his predecessor’s disgrace, which contributed heavily to his electoral defeat in 1976. Similarly, in post-Soviet Russia, Boris Yeltsin’s chaotic economic reforms and political instability left Vladimir Putin with both an opportunity and a burden: while Putin capitalised on Yeltsin’s failures to consolidate power, Yeltsin’s legacy of corruption and weakened institutions shaped the authoritarian trajectory that followed. In Britain, James Callaghan’s premiership was overshadowed by the economic turmoil and union unrest that had already plagued Harold Wilson’s government; the “Winter of Discontent” sealed Labour’s defeat and ushered in Margaret Thatcher. These examples reveal a recurring pattern: when a predecessor leaves behind scandal, instability, or broken institutions, the successor often struggles to escape that shadow, and their downfall becomes tied to the failures of the past.

Throughout history, leaders have often relied on the accuracy of reports delivered by their subordinates, and when those reports proved false, the consequences could be catastrophic. One of the most famous examples is Napoleon Bonaparte, whose disastrous invasion of Russia in 1812 was worsened by misleading intelligence and overly optimistic reports from his generals, which convinced him that supplies and reinforcements were more secure than they truly were. Similarly, during the Vietnam War, American political and military leaders were repeatedly misled by overly positive reports from commanders in the field, creating the illusion of progress while the reality was far more dire; this erosion of credibility contributed to the eventual collapse of public trust and the political downfall of those in charge. In the corporate world, leaders such as Bernie Ebbers of WorldCom fell because subordinates concealed the true state of finances with falsified reports, leading to one of the largest bankruptcies in history. These cases illustrate a recurring pattern: when leaders are deprived of truthful information, whether through deception or incompetence, their ability to govern collapses, and their downfall becomes almost inevitable.

[Bahasa]