Making Education Accessible for All (4)

On Wednesday, 25 February 2026, during a press conference held at the PDIP Party School in Lenteng Agung, Jakarta, Indonesia, Maria Yohana (MY) Esti Wijayati provided a formal clarification to dispel what she described as "public confusion" regarding the funding of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme. She was accompanied by other prominent party members, including Adian Napitupulu and Bonnie Triyana.

The core of her statement confirmed that:

• Direct Budgetary Sourcing: Contrary to claims by some government officials that the MBG was funded through departmental "efficiencies," Esti revealed that Rp223.5 trillion has been explicitly taken from the Rp769.1 trillion national education budget for the 2026 fiscal year.
• Evidence from State Documents: She cited the 2026 State Budget (APBN) Law (UU No. 17 of 2025) and its accompanying Presidential Regulation, noting that the appendix clearly classifies these funds under the education function but allocates them to the National Nutrition Agency (BGN).
• Critique of Priorities: Esti expressed deep regret over this reallocation, arguing that such a massive sum should ideally be used to address the "grim reality" of Indonesian education, such as the thousands of dilapidated school buildings in regions like East Nusa Tenggara (NTT) and the inadequate welfare of teachers.

During the same event, Adian Napitupulu reinforced Esti’s points by quoting Article 22 of the 2026 APBN Law, which explicitly states that "educational operational funding includes the nutritious meal programme" in both general and religious educational institutions. This legislative language, according to the PDIP Fraction, proves that the programme is not an "extra" budget but a re-categorisation of existing mandatory education spending.

Based on the current investigative data, there is no record of a formal rebuttal issued by either the Ministry of Basic and Secondary Education or the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) specifically addressing the recent statements made by the PDI Perjuangan Faction and MY Esti Wijayati.

Instead, the declaration made by the PDI Perjuangan Faction on 25 February 2026 serves as an open clarification and critique of the government’s established policies within the 2026 State Budget. 

• Critique of Official Policy: MY Esti Wijayati’s statement acts as a direct response to the provisions found within the 2026 State Budget Law (Law No. 17 of 2025). The PDIP Fraction utilised this press conference to present legal evidence that the funding for the Nutritious Meal Programme (MBG) is explicitly drawn from the education function's budget.
• The Government’s Stance: Thus far, government representatives have maintained the narrative that the programme constitutes an "investment in human capital" within the education sector. However, they have yet to issue a formal press release to counter the specific figure of Rp223.5 trillion disclosed by the PDIP Fraction.
• The Objective of the Statement: The PDIP statement was intended to alert the public to a "redefinition" of educational spending that they believe undermines academic priorities and teacher welfare. It also serves to provide political weight to the judicial review currently being heard by the Constitutional Court.

In summary, the PDIP statement emerged as a data-driven counter-argument based on state documents, challenging the government's previous narrative, which suggested that educational funding would remain unaffected by the meal initiative.

The situation remains deeply paradoxical. Procedurally, the PDI Perjuangan (PDIP) faction was part of the legislative process that ratified the 2026 Budget Law, yet substantively, they have emerged as the most vocal critics of the "redefinitions" contained within that very legislation.

From a constitutional standpoint, Law Number 17 of 2025 concerning the 2026 State Budget was approved jointly by the House of Representatives (DPR) and the Government. Given that PDIP holds the largest number of seats and occupies strategic positions—including the Speaker of the House and the Chair of the Budget Committee (Banggar)—it would have been technically impossible for this law to pass without their consent or, at the very least, a consensus at the leadership level. The Cabinet Secretary and several other parliamentarians have clarified that the Budget Law was approved by acclamation, meaning no faction—including PDIP—registered a formal objection or a dissenting vote during the plenary session for its ratification.

Despite having approved the body of the law, the PDIP faction (represented by figures such as MY Esti Wijayati and Adian Napitupulu) held a press conference on 25 February 2026 to "correct the public narrative". They argued that their initial approval of the Rp769.1 trillion education budget (the 20% mandatory spending) was based on the understanding that these funds were exclusively for academic purposes. However, they subsequently claimed to have discovered that within the Explanatory Notes of Article 22 of the 2026 Budget Law and the accompanying Presidential Regulation on Budget Details, clauses had been inserted that categorised the "nutritious meal programme" as a component of school operational funding.

The PDIP faction is currently adopting a defensive stance, asserting that many state officials had previously provided a public narrative suggesting that the MBG funds would be sourced from "ministry efficiency savings" rather than the education quota. Investigations suggest that PDIP's critique is an attempt to unveil the "budgetary veil" to the public, ensuring citizens are aware of the Rp223.5 trillion reduction in pure educational funding. They claim their current duty is to exercise their oversight function to prevent the public from being "misled" by the rhetoric of efficiency, even though, administratively, they were the ones who signed off on the regulations.

Legally, the PDIP faction did indeed approve the budget through the formal legislative process in the House. However, politically, they are now attempting to distance themselves from the consequences of that policy—such as neglected school infrastructure and stagnant teacher welfare—by exposing the technical details of the budget to the public. They contend that while they approved the headline figure of 20%, the implementation details—specifically the redefinition of education functions to include food logistics—are a move that requires urgent re-evaluation.

In the 2025 State Budget (APBN), the government allocated Rp71 trillion for the initial rollout of the MBG programme. While the government maintains that the 20% mandatory spending for education remains legally intact, critics and civil society groups, such as Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) and the National Education Network (JPPI), have highlighted that this funding is partially sourced by shifting priorities within the education sector. For instance, there were notable reductions in the targets for the Indonesia Smart Programme (PIP)—decreasing from 20.8 million students in 2024 to 20.4 million in 2025—and a significant drop in the quota for non-civil servant teacher professional allowances (TPG non-PNS).

The controversy has intensified regarding the 2026 State Budget, where the MBG allocation is projected to rise to approximately Rp335 trillion. According to legal filings and public reports:

• Approximately Rp223 trillion (or roughly 29% of the total Rp769.1 trillion education budget) is reportedly being categorised as "educational operational funding" to support the MBG programme.
• The National Nutrition Agency (BGN) manages these funds, which are consolidated from the education, health, and economic sectors.
• In January 2026, several groups, including the Association for Education and Teachers (P2G), filed a judicial review with the Constitutional Court (MK) to challenge the use of the education budget for school meals, arguing it diminishes the fiscal space for essential needs such as teacher welfare, school infrastructure, and research.

The MBG programme has not "cut" the education budget in a nominal sense—as the total figure continues to grow—but it has fundamentally realigned the distribution of those funds. The primary concern raised by investigators is that by including "nutrition" under the umbrella of "education," the government is fulfilling the 20% constitutional requirement through food distribution rather than through direct academic investment. This has led to reports of delayed School Operational Assistance (BOS) funds and stagnant budgets for school renovations, with data showing that over 60% of elementary classrooms remain in various states of disrepair as of 2025.

In light of the detailed 2026 budget figures, the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) initiative stands as the single most significant expenditure within the educational sector, accounting for a substantial allocation of Rp223.6 trillion, representing approximately 29.1% of the total education budget. This figure notably exceeds the funding reserved for Teacher and Lecturer Welfare, which is set at Rp178.7 trillion and accounts for roughly 23.2% of the overall fiscal envelope. Furthermore, the allocation for School Operations (BOS) has been established at Rp64.3 trillion, contributing 8.4% to the total, followed closely by the funding for Student Scholarships (KIP/PIP), which amounts to Rp57.8 trillion or approximately 7.5% of the national education budget.

In dissecting the distribution of the Rp57.8 trillion student scholarship budget (KIP/PIP) for 2026, a striking disparity is evident between regions, as fund allocations remain heavily concentrated within Java compared to the frontier, outermost, and least developed areas known as the 3T regions. Although the government asserts that scholarship quotas are determined by the Integrated Social Welfare Data (DTKS), the reality on the ground indicates that provinces with the largest student populations, such as West Java, East Java, and Central Java, absorb nearly 45% of the total national scholarship ceiling. This presents a formidable challenge for regions such as Highland Papua, East Nusa Tenggara (NTT), and Maluku, which, despite possessing higher rates of extreme poverty, frequently face hurdles in validating population data and securing banking access that impede the effective disbursement of funds.

This inequality is further exacerbated by the budgetary reallocation for the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme, as regions outside Java with limited logistical infrastructure face a greater risk of scholarship quota reductions to cover the exorbitant food distribution costs in their territories. Education observers note that in Eastern Indonesia, the delivery cost of a single nutritious meal can be double that of Java, often resulting in a form of "budgetary cannibalism" where funds originally intended for increasing scholarship recipients are diverted to plug deficits in food logistics operational costs. Consequently, scholarship allocations in remote areas tend to remain stagnant or grow well below the rate of inflation, which in the long term may widen the gap in human resource quality between the central and regional provinces.

The continued utilisation of the mandatory education budget to fund the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme presents a complex fiscal trade-off that will likely reshape the Indonesian educational landscape across three distinct time horizons.

In the immediate term, the reallocation of funds is expected to trigger a liquidity crisis for individual schools, as School Operational Assistance (BOS) funds may be delayed or reduced to accommodate the daily cash flow requirements of the nutrition programme. This fiscal pressure will likely result in the further postponement of urgent repairs for the 60% of primary school classrooms currently in disrepair, as discretionary spending is sacrificed to ensure meal delivery remains uninterrupted. Furthermore, the administrative burden on teachers and school staff to oversee the logistics of daily catering could lead to a temporary decline in instructional quality and an increase in burnout.

Over the next three to five years, the primary concern lies in the stagnation of teacher welfare and recruitment. As nearly 30% of the education budget is absorbed by nutritional spending, the fiscal room for increasing the Teacher Professional Allowance (TPG) or transitioning contract teachers (PPPK) into permanent roles will be severely constrained. This could lead to a "brain drain" within the sector, where high-quality graduates eschew the teaching profession in favour of more lucrative industries, ultimately widening the gap in pedagogical quality between urban and rural areas. Additionally, the digital transformation of schools—such as the provision of hardware and high-speed internet—may stall as funds are prioritised for physical commodities rather than technological investment.

In the long run, the government’s gamble rests on the hypothesis that improved nutrition will lead to higher cognitive outcomes and a more productive workforce. However, if this comes at the expense of a crumbling educational infrastructure and a demoralised teaching force, Indonesia may face a Human Capital Paradox: a generation of children who are physically healthy but lack the advanced skills and critical thinking required for a high-tech global economy. The risk is that the quality of the "software" (curriculum, teaching, and digital literacy) will be permanently compromised to maintain the "hardware" (the physical health of students), potentially trapping the nation in a middle-income bracket despite its nutritional successes.

In his seminal work, "The Rebirth of Education: Schooling Ain't Learning," published in 2013 by the Center for Global Development, Lant Pritchett meticulously deconstructs the prevailing obsession with quantifiable educational metrics in developing nations. He argues that many countries have fallen into a systemic trap by conflating "schooling"—the physical act of attending an institution—with "learning," which is the actual acquisition of knowledge and cognitive ability. This distinction is central to his thesis that the rapid expansion of student enrolment and the construction of physical infrastructure, which he categorises as the "hardware" of the system, do not naturally translate into improved educational outcomes if the "software"—comprising the curriculum, teaching quality, and institutional accountability—remains dysfunctional.

Pritchett explains that simply increasing the education budget to build more classrooms or distribute resources often fails to correlate with enhanced cognitive skills because these inputs are frequently funnelled into a "flailing" bureaucratic system. He posits that many educational systems in developing countries are designed for "compliance" rather than "learning," where the primary objective becomes the administrative process of moving cohorts through grades regardless of their actual proficiency. Consequently, students may complete years of formal schooling while remaining functionally illiterate, a phenomenon he describes as a "learning crisis" that cannot be solved by merely increasing spending within the existing structural framework.

The author further asserts that for a system to be truly effective, it must undergo a fundamental shift from a centralised, top-down bureaucratic model to one that is focused on performance and local adaptability. Without such a radical transformation, additional funding—such as the reallocation of budgets for non-academic initiatives—risks being wasted on an "isomorphic mimicry" where the system looks like a functional educational body on the surface but lacks the essential capability to foster intellectual growth. Ultimately, Pritchett’s analysis serves as a stern warning that unless the core incentives and pedagogical methods are repaired, the massive investment of national resources will continue to yield negligible returns in human capital development.

The arguments put forward by Lant Pritchett provide a poignant lens through which to examine the current tensions between Indonesia’s Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme and the systemic deficiencies in its educational infrastructure. Pritchett’s central thesis—that "hardware" expansion is futile without "software" integrity—is directly challenged by the Indonesian government’s decision to reallocate Rp223.5 trillion from the education function to fund nutritional logistics. From a Pritchettian perspective, this move risks deepening the "learning crisis" because it diverts scarce resources away from the very "software" improvements, such as teacher training and curriculum reform, that are essential for turning physical presence in a classroom into actual cognitive growth. While the MBG programme seeks to enhance the physical readiness of students, the act of stripping the education budget to pay for it leaves the system unable to address the dilapidated state of schools in regions like NTT, thereby creating a scenario where healthy children are taught in collapsing buildings by under-supported educators.

Furthermore, the reduction of funds for essential components like the School Operational Assistance (BOS) and teacher welfare to accommodate the MBG initiative exemplifies what Pritchett describes as "isomorphic mimicry." By maintaining the 20% budget allocation on paper while redefining its contents to include food distribution, the state maintains the appearance of constitutional compliance while hollowing out the actual academic mission of the institutions. This creates a severe structural imbalance where the "hardware" of the state—the physical well-being of the populace—is prioritised at the direct expense of the "software" required for national productivity. Consequently, even if the MBG programme succeeds in eradicating stunting, the lack of adequate educational infrastructure and pedagogical quality ensures that these healthy students remain trapped in a system that cannot provide them with the skills necessary for economic mobility.

Ultimately, the link between Pritchett’s theories and the current Indonesian fiscal landscape suggests that the MBG programme, in its present funding form, may inadvertently exacerbate the Human Capital Paradox. By neglecting the urgent need for infrastructure repairs and professional teacher development in favour of a massive logistical exercise, the government risks presiding over a system that produces physically robust graduates who lack the intellectual tools to thrive in a modern economy. This underscores the necessity of a policy shift that protects the "software" of education from being cannibalised by "hardware" initiatives, ensuring that the development of the mind is never sacrificed for the maintenance of the body.

In their highly influential work "Poor Economics: A Radical Rethinking of the Way to Fight Global Poverty," published in 2011 by PublicAffairs, Nobel laureates Abhijit V. Banerjee and Esther Duflo offer a nuanced perspective on social interventions that carries significant implications for Indonesia’s Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) policy and the subsequent reduction in core education funding. The authors argue through rigorous randomised control trials that while "low-hanging fruit" interventions, such as providing free meals or health supplements, are effective in improving immediate physical welfare, they often fail to trigger long-term poverty alleviation if the underlying institutional incentives are misaligned. In the context of the Indonesian budget shift, Banerjee and Duflo’s research suggests that providing nutrition at the expense of teacher welfare and school operations might solve a "supply-side" problem of hunger while inadvertently worsening the "quality-side" problem of learning, as the lack of motivated teachers and functional classrooms remains the primary barrier to social mobility.

The authors further explore the concept of the "learning trap," where parents and governments alike overestimate the value of mere school attendance and basic physical health while underestimating the necessity of remedial support and pedagogical quality. Regarding the MBG programme, Poor Economics would caution that a massive logistical exercise in food distribution, if funded by cannibalising the education budget, may lead to a "quiet crisis" where students are physically present and healthy but remain intellectually stagnant because the system lacks the resources to teach them at their actual level of understanding. They emphasise that the most effective way to help the poor is not merely to provide resources but to ensure that those resources are delivered through a system that prizes accountability and effective learning outcomes, a goal that is rendered nearly impossible if the budget for "software"—such as teacher incentives and school maintenance—is depleted.

Banerjee and Duflo’s analysis suggests that for a programme like MBG to be truly transformative rather than merely palliative, it must be an "and" rather than an "or" in relation to educational quality. By stripping Rp223.5 trillion from the education function, the Indonesian government risks ignoring the authors' warning that the poor are often trapped in poverty not by a lack of calories, but by a lack of access to a high-quality education that can actually improve their life chances. Their work implies that the path forward should involve protecting the integrity of education spending while finding alternative, more efficient fiscal mechanisms for nutrition, thereby ensuring that the investment in a child’s stomach is not undermined by the structural collapse of their school system.

The Human Capital Paradox represents a critical developmental risk where a nation successfully addresses physical stunting and malnutrition but fails to provide the intellectual infrastructure necessary for high-level productivity. In the Indonesian context, this paradox suggests that while the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme may produce a generation of physically healthy children, these students may graduate into a global economy without the advanced cognitive skills or digital literacy required to compete, simply because the funds for their teachers and classrooms were diverted to their dinner plates. The consequence of such a misalignment is a workforce that is "fit for labour" but "unfit for innovation," potentially trapping Indonesia in the middle-income bracket for decades as the quality of education remains stagnant despite improved physical stature.

To avoid this outcome, there is an urgent necessity to re-evaluate the MBG programme's funding structure, specifically by decoupling it from the mandatory 20% education budget. A viable solution would involve establishing the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) as a cross-sectoral body funded through a combination of the health budget, social assistance reserves, and potentially a dedicated "nutrition tax" on high-sugar or ultra-processed foods, thereby preserving the sanctity of the education fund for its constitutional purpose. By ring-fencing education spending exclusively for teacher welfare, pedagogical research, and digital infrastructure, the government could ensure that physical health initiatives complement rather than cannibalise academic development.

Furthermore, protecting Indonesian education from the volatility of such flagship political programmes requires a stricter legislative definition of "educational expenditure" to prevent the inclusion of logistical and nutritional costs under the guise of school operations. Strengthening the autonomy of the Education Fund Management Agency (LPDP) and establishing a permanent commission to oversee the 20% allocation would provide the necessary checks and balances to ensure that future initiatives are funded through genuine fiscal expansion rather than the redistribution of existing essential resources. Ultimately, the path forward must treat nutrition as a foundation for health and education as the engine of growth, ensuring that the development of the "stomach" never comes at the permanent expense of the "mind."

[Part 5]
[Part 3]

Bahasa

Entering Ramadan 1447 H

 

Ramadan never truly arrives on the night the moon is sighted. By then, it has already been approaching us quietly for weeks—perhaps months—through a subtle unease in the conscience. There is a peculiar feeling that visits the believer before Ramadan: not excitement, not fear, but recognition. The recognition that time has not merely passed; it has been spent, and perhaps misspent.

Throughout the year, we live outwardly—working, speaking, reacting, consuming—yet rarely pausing long enough to examine the direction of the heart. Ramadan approaches precisely at the moment we begin to sense that our routines have become heavier than our intentions. The body has been active, but the soul has been waiting.

This is why many people instinctively begin to remember old prayers as Ramadan draws near. Forgotten supplications return to the tongue, unfinished repentance returns to the mind, and conversations with God that were postponed now quietly ask to be resumed. The month has not yet entered the calendar, yet it has already entered awareness.

There is also a gentle discomfort in this anticipation. One begins to wonder whether the previous Ramadan truly changed anything at all. Did patience remain after the hunger ended? Did restraint survive after the nights of prayer faded? The arrival of a new Ramadan carries with it an unspoken question: were we transformed, or merely occupied?

Therefore the days before Ramadan are not simply preparation; they are diagnosis. The believer does not merely prepare schedules of recitation but examines the condition of sincerity. For Ramadan does not come to add more actions into life, but to realign life itself. It interrupts before it instructs.

In this sense, Ramadan is less like a guest who visits us and more like a mirror that confronts us. And perhaps the unease we feel before it arrives is not anxiety about worship, but honesty about ourselves. The month is merciful—yet the clarity it brings can be unsettling.

Many people understand fasting as the discipline of the body, yet the Qur’anic language suggests something deeper—the discipline of perception. Hunger is not the destination of fasting but its instrument. The stomach is restrained so that the self may be revealed, for a person rarely meets their inner condition while constantly fulfilled.

When appetite is continuously satisfied, the self remains hidden behind comfort. But when the ordinary rhythm of consumption is interrupted, subtle truths surface: impatience in speech, irritation in tone, restlessness in thought. Fasting therefore exposes rather than suppresses. It does not create weakness; it uncovers it.

For this reason, the first fast is not of food but of reaction. A person may complete a day without eating and yet never have fasted from anger, pride, or needless argument. The body abstains by command, but the ego abstains only by awareness. Ramadan trains awareness before behaviour.

This explains why the tongue becomes central during the fast. Words travel faster than hunger, and harm reaches further than appetite. A restrained stomach without a restrained voice leaves the inner self untouched. Thus fasting is less about enduring emptiness and more about choosing gentleness.

Over the days, a subtle shift begins to occur. One no longer breaks the fast merely because sunset arrives, but because permission returns. The act of eating regains meaning; the act of speaking regains weight. Ordinary actions, temporarily suspended, return purified.

If fasting succeeds, the believer learns that self-control was never meant to exist only in Ramadan. The month does not manufacture virtues; it demonstrates that they were always possible. Hunger becomes the teacher that reveals how unnecessary excess had been all along.

The greatest loss in Ramadan is not hunger, nor fatigue, nor the shortening of sleep. The greatest loss is completing the month unchanged. For it is entirely possible to be busy in worship and yet absent from its meaning. Activity can increase while awareness remains still.

Ramadan fills the schedule easily. There are recitations to finish, gatherings to attend, charities to distribute, nights to occupy. Yet the heart can quietly remain outside all of it, performing devotion without entering devotion. The body stands in prayer while the self stands elsewhere.

In every age, believers have faced a subtle temptation—to measure faith by quantity rather than by transformation. Numbers are comforting because they are visible: pages completed, cycles prayed, days fasted. But the inward states that Ramadan seeks—patience, mercy, humility—cannot be counted so easily.

Modern life adds another layer to this risk. The month that was meant to conceal sincerity can become a stage upon which sincerity is displayed. Good actions, once private, begin to seek witnesses. The act remains, yet its direction shifts: from being offered to God to being presented to people.

Thus a person may protect their fast from food yet leave it unprotected from vanity. And vanity consumes faster than hunger ever could. What the stomach empties in hours, the ego can refill in moments.

The tragedy is not that worship was performed imperfectly—imperfection belongs to all human effort—but that the month passed without self-recognition. Ramadan is not a competition of endurance; it is an encounter with truth. To finish it unchanged is to have travelled without arriving.

Preparation for Ramadan is often imagined as organisation—arranging schedules, planning recitations, deciding charitable targets. Yet the earliest preparation begins where no timetable can reach: in reconciliation. Before increasing acts of worship, one must reduce the burdens the heart carries into them.

Repentance, in this sense, is not a dramatic declaration but a quiet clearing. The believer acknowledges unfinished conversations with God and resumes them without ceremony. One does not wait to become better before turning back; turning back is precisely how betterment begins.

Likewise, forgiveness becomes a form of readiness. Resentment occupies space that remembrance requires. A heart crowded with old grievances struggles to hold new sincerity. To release others is therefore not generosity toward them alone but mercy toward oneself.

Another preparation is the deliberate reduction of noise. Ramadan does not change the world around us; it changes how much of it we allow inside us. By loosening unnecessary engagements — arguments, excess entertainment, restless comparison — attention becomes available again. Worship rarely enters a life that is already full.

Finally, one chooses not many ambitions but one honest intention. A single sustained change survives longer than numerous brief enthusiasms. The aim of preparation is not to perform more, but to receive more. Ramadan benefits the heart that has made room for it.

Thus the days before the month are less about anticipation and more about alignment. The calendar will turn regardless; the question is whether the inner direction turns with it. A prepared heart recognises Ramadan not merely as a date, but as an opening. 

Every Ramadan presents itself publicly, yet it is lived privately. The crowds in prayer, the shared fast-breaking meals, the collective anticipation of Eid — all of these are visible expressions. But the most decisive conversations of the month occur where no one else can hear them. Thus a personal covenant becomes essential.

This covenant is not a dramatic pledge of perfection. It is a quiet agreement between the believer and their own conscience. One asks not, “How much will I accomplish?” but rather, “What must I finally confront?” The purpose is not spiritual display, but spiritual honesty.

For some, the covenant may involve guarding the tongue with greater vigilance. For others, it may mean repairing a neglected relationship, or establishing one consistent act of charity that continues beyond the month. The strength of a covenant lies not in its scale, but in its sincerity.

It is tempting in Ramadan to compare one’s devotion with that of others. Yet comparison subtly shifts worship from devotion to competition. The covenant therefore includes a refusal to measure oneself against another’s rhythm. Each soul has its own wounds to mend and its own path to walk.

Depth must take precedence over quantity. A single page read with reflection can outweigh many read in haste. A brief prayer offered with presence can exceed a long one offered with distraction. Ramadan does not reward speed; it nurtures awareness.

Above all, the covenant must extend beyond the thirtieth day. If a habit cannot survive Eid, it was perhaps enthusiasm rather than transformation. The truest sign of a fruitful Ramadan is continuity — a patience that lingers, a restraint that endures, a remembrance that persists when celebration ends.

Another preparation is the deliberate reduction of noise. Ramadan does not change the world around us; it changes how much of it we allow inside us. By loosening unnecessary engagements—arguments, excess entertainment, restless comparison—attention becomes available again. Worship rarely enters a life that is already full.

Finally, one chooses not many ambitions but one honest intention. A single sustained change survives longer than numerous brief enthusiasms. The aim of preparation is not to perform more, but to receive more. Ramadan benefits the heart that has made room for it.

Thus the days before the month are less about anticipation and more about alignment. The calendar will turn regardless; the question is whether the inner direction turns with it. A prepared heart recognises Ramadan not merely as a date, but as an opening.

Perhaps the success of Ramadan is not measured by how intensely we lived within it, but by how gently it continues to live within us afterwards. The month passes as all months pass, yet it leaves traces that ordinary time does not. If nothing of it remains once the celebrations fade, then we may have accompanied the days without ever accompanying their meaning.

Ramadan does not come to decorate our routines but to interrupt them. It pauses our habits long enough for us to notice that many of them were never necessary. We learn, briefly, that we can eat less, speak less, react less — and yet feel more. The reduction of excess becomes the discovery of sufficiency.

There is a mercy in the temporary nature of the month. Because it ends, it teaches us that transformation was never meant to depend on a season. The departure of Ramadan is not a withdrawal of guidance, but a test of whether guidance has been internalised. The calendar turns back to ordinary days; the believer is asked not to.

Thus the farewell to Ramadan should not resemble relief, but responsibility. One does not say goodbye to a guest, but carries forward a trust. What was practised for thirty days becomes proof of what is possible for the rest of the year.

In the end, Ramadan is not merely a period we enter; it is a truth we encounter. And the question it leaves behind is simple yet demanding: will we wait another year to return to ourselves, or begin from the morning after?

[Bahasa]

Conflict of Interest (9)

Sissela Bok’s seminal work, Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life, remains an essential touchstone in moral philosophy, particularly for its rigorous examination of the ethical implications of deception within the public sphere. Central to her thesis is the "Principle of Veracity," which asserts that truthfulness must be the default position in human communication because lies, by their very nature, carry an inherent negative weight that demands substantial moral justification. Bok argues that even well-intentioned deceptions, often referred to as "white lies" or "noble lies" by those in positions of authority, are rarely as harmless as they appear, as they tend to erode the foundation of social trust and eventually undermine the legitimacy of the institutions that employ them.

Furthermore, Bok introduces a critical framework known as the "Test of Publicity," which serves as a benchmark for evaluating whether a particular lie or omission can be ethically defended. This test requires one to consider whether the reasons for a deception could be openly justified to a public of reasonable people; if a justification cannot survive the scrutiny of a transparent, public debate, then the act of deception is deemed morally deficient. When applied to contemporary political communication—such as the transition from high-status campaign promises to more modest policy realities—Bok’s analysis suggests that any perceived "bait and switch" can be viewed as a breach of this moral contract, as it fails to respect the autonomy of the public to make informed judgements based on the truth.

In Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life (1978, Vintage Books), Sissela Bok approaches conflicts of interest not merely as procedural improprieties but as fundamentally moral situations closely tied to truthfulness, trust, and the legitimacy of institutions. She argues that when private interests intersect with public responsibilities, the temptation to mislead rarely appears in the form of an obvious lie; rather, it emerges through selective disclosure, omission, and rationalisation. A person in authority often convinces himself that withholding information is harmless or even beneficial, yet the moral danger lies precisely in this self-persuasion. For Bok, conflicts of interest become ethically serious because they generate conditions in which deception can occur while still appearing respectable.

Bok maintains that individuals entrusted with power possess both informational advantage and interpretive authority, which allows them to shape what others believe without overt falsehoods. In such circumstances, self-deception precedes deception of others: the agent reframes personal benefit as public good and gradually loses the ability to distinguish impartial judgement from motivated reasoning. This is why she does not treat conflicts of interest as secondary technical breaches but as environments in which dishonesty becomes structurally likely. The wrong, therefore, is not only that the official may gain privately, but that the decision-making process itself ceases to be trustworthy.

She further proposes what later commentators call a form of a publicity test: a decision that cannot be openly justified to those affected by it carries a presumption of moral defect. Conflicts of interest typically depend upon concealment, because transparency would immediately reveal the bias shaping the decision. Thus secrecy is not a neutral administrative matter but evidence that the justification cannot survive shared scrutiny. In Bok’s framework, moral permissibility requires reasons that remain defensible once the relevant relationships and incentives are known.

Bok concludes that the gravest harm caused by concealed conflicts of interest is the erosion of public trust. When people suspect that statements made in professional or governmental roles are influenced by undisclosed personal advantage, they cease to rely upon assurances altogether. This scepticism spreads beyond the individual case and weakens confidence in institutions themselves. A society accustomed to such conditions, she suggests, risks losing the practical possibility of honest cooperation, because trust — the background condition of civic life—has been quietly undermined.

Bok grounds public trust in a basic moral condition of social life: people can only cooperate rationally if they normally assume that others are telling the truth unless there is good reason to doubt them. Trust, in her view, is not naïve optimism but a practical necessity for communication, contracts, law, and shared knowledge. Without a general presumption of honesty, every statement would require constant verification and ordinary social interaction would become unworkable. Truthfulness therefore functions not merely as a personal virtue but as part of the moral infrastructure of society.

Bok explains that modern societies operate within what might be called an economy of trust. We rely on doctors for diagnoses, officials for public information, and professionals for expert judgement because individuals cannot independently check everything. For that reason, the moral burden on persons in positions of authority is heavier than on private individuals. They are not only forbidden from lying; they must also avoid misleading. Public trust is granted in advance, and its misuse is therefore morally more serious than deception in purely private relationships.

The connection with conflicts of interest is direct. A conflict of interest undermines the condition that makes trust rational, namely impartiality. When a speaker has an undisclosed stake in the outcome of the judgment he presents, his statement ceases to function purely as information and becomes covert advocacy. Even if the words are factually correct, the communicative situation has changed: the public believes it is receiving an objective assessment, while it is, in fact, receiving a claim shaped by personal motive. Thus a conflict of interest produces a form of deception without requiring a literal falsehood.

The moral damage, according to Bok, accumulates over time. Once people learn that hidden interests often influence official statements,, they do not merely distrust the individual speaker but begin to doubt the entire system of social testimony. Statements are treated as potential propaganda, the cost of verification rises, regulation expands, and cooperation weakens. A conflict of interest is therefore not simply a matter of improper private gain; it is a direct threat to the moral foundation of public trust, and without that trust a stable social order becomes difficult to sustain.

The central message of Sissela Bok in Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life is that lying must never be treated as a minor matter merely because it appears useful or well-intentioned. Every form of deception—including concealment, half-truths, and undisclosed conflicts of interest—should stand under moral suspicion. The burden of justification does not fall upon those who demand honesty, but upon those who depart from it.

Bok rejects the idea that individuals can easily calculate the benefits and harms of deception objectively, because agents are almost always biased in their own favour. People tend to exaggerate the good they believe they produce and underestimate the damage done to others, particularly the indirect damage caused to trust. For this reason, appeals to acting “for the greater good” often function less as moral judgement and more as rationalisation.

At the heart of her argument lies the claim that trust is a precondition of social life. Without a general presumption that others usually speak truthfully, communication, law, contracts, and institutions cannot operate reliably. Each act of deception weakens that network of trust, not only between individuals but across society as a whole. Consequently, lying is rarely justifiable, and if it is even to be considered, it must withstand open justification to those affected by it.

Her moral conclusion is therefore clear: the chief problem with lying is not simply factual falsity but the damage it inflicts upon social relationships. Once a society becomes accustomed to treating deception as a normal instrument, people cease to rely on any assurances—even truthful ones—and collective life grows fragile as its foundation of trust erodes. 

In Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life, Sissela Bok does not propose a single technical remedy for conflicts of interest, because she regards them as moral hazards rooted in human self-justification rather than merely administrative defects. Her central response is to shift the presumption: instead of assuming that officials may privately manage their competing loyalties unless proven harmful, society should presume such situations morally suspect unless they can be openly justified. The solution therefore begins with a reversal of burden — those holding power must demonstrate why their judgement remains trustworthy despite personal stakes.

A key element of her approach is publicity. Bok argues that decisions affected by potential bias must be capable of being explained openly to those influenced by them. If the decision cannot survive transparent scrutiny once the relevant relationships are known, then it ought not to be taken. Disclosure, in her framework, is not simply informational but moral: it forces the decision-maker to confront whether he is relying on reasons that others could reasonably accept rather than private advantage disguised as judgement.

She also stresses institutional restraint. Because individuals are prone to self-deception, she maintains that personal integrity alone cannot reliably control conflicts of interest. Instead, procedures must reduce reliance on private discretion—recusal, shared deliberation, and independent review serve not as signs of mistrust but as protections against predictable bias. The aim is not to accuse the official of dishonesty but to acknowledge the limits of human impartiality.

Bok’s remedy is cultural as much as procedural. Public roles should cultivate habits of justification oriented towards those affected, not towards personal intention. A decision is morally acceptable only when its reasons remain defensible once interests are revealed. By requiring openness, shared scrutiny, and humility about one’s own objectivity, she seeks to prevent conflicts of interest from silently transforming honest speech into misleading authority.

In Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life, Sissela Bok does not propose a single technical remedy for conflicts of interest, because she regards them as moral hazards rooted in human self-justification rather than merely administrative defects. Her central response is to shift the presumption: instead of assuming that officials may privately manage their competing loyalties unless proven harmful, society should presume such situations morally suspect unless they can be openly justified. The solution therefore begins with a reversal of burden—those holding power must demonstrate why their judgement remains trustworthy despite personal stakes.

A key element of her approach is publicity. Bok argues that decisions affected by potential bias must be capable of being explained openly to those influenced by them. If the decision cannot survive transparent scrutiny once the relevant relationships are known, then it ought not to be taken. Disclosure, in her framework, is not simply informational but moral: it forces the decision-maker to confront whether he is relying on reasons that others could reasonably accept rather than private advantage disguised as judgement.

She also stresses institutional restraint. Because individuals are prone to self-deception, she maintains that personal integrity alone cannot reliably control conflicts of interest. Instead, procedures must reduce reliance on private discretion—recusal, shared deliberation, and independent review serve not as signs of mistrust but as protections against predictable bias. The aim is not to accuse the official of dishonesty but to acknowledge the limits of human impartiality.

Ultimately, Bok’s remedy is cultural as much as procedural. Public roles should cultivate habits of justification oriented towards those affected, not towards personal intention. A decision is morally acceptable only when its reasons remain defensible once interests are revealed. By requiring openness, shared scrutiny, and humility about one’s own objectivity, she seeks to prevent conflicts of interest from silently transforming honest speech into misleading authority.

Whereas Sissela Bok offers a primarily moral analysis, several other works propose concrete institutional solutions to conflicts of interest.

In Private Gain and Public Office, Dennis F. Thompson argues that conflicts of interest cannot be solved by relying on personal virtue alone. They must instead be managed structurally. His approach recommends formal separation between private advantage and public decision-making through asset disclosure, limits on gifts, restrictions on holding multiple roles, and mandatory recusal from decisions where impartiality is compromised. The aim is not to find perfectly virtuous officials but to design institutions that do not depend upon personal purity.

A more administrative framework appears in Managing Conflict of Interest in the Public Service issued in 2004 by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Here conflicts of interest are treated as governance risks rather than exceptional moral failings. The proposed remedies include transparency registers, independent oversight bodies, periodic audits, and graduated sanctions. The emphasis lies on making conflicts visible and controllable, recognising that they cannot always be entirely eliminated.

Meanwhile, The Responsible Administrator (1998, John Wiley & Sons Inc.) by Terry L. Cooper stresses professional ethics. He recommends reflective judgement training, collegial consultation, and organisational cultures that encourage officials to identify their own potential bias before acting. In this view, prevention depends not only upon rules and monitoring but also upon cultivated moral awareness.

Taken together, these works suggest that addressing conflicts of interest requires several layers at once: ethical reflection, institutional design, transparency mechanisms, and professional culture.

Conflicts of interest rarely begin with corruption; they begin with convenience. A small exception granted for efficiency gradually reshapes judgement, until preference is mistaken for reason and familiarity replaces fairness. What makes them dangerous is not always the presence of falsehood but the quiet erosion of impartiality, where decisions remain articulate yet no longer fully trustworthy.

For this reason, the solution is not merely stricter rules nor simply better intentions, but a shared expectation of openness. When interests are declared, questioned, and occasionally set aside, authority regains credibility because it accepts scrutiny rather than avoiding it. Transparency does not humiliate public office; it dignifies it by aligning power with accountability.

In the end, institutions survive not because they are flawless but because they are trusted. Trust grows where explanations remain defensible once all relationships are known, and it fades where justification depends upon concealment. A society attentive to conflicts of interest therefore protects not only fairness in decisions but confidence in living together under them.

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Conflict of Interest (8)

The systematic evaluation of a public programme is a vital democratic and administrative necessity, ensuring that the allocation of state resources remains aligned with its original humanitarian or economic objectives. Without a rigorous and independent assessment, even the most well-intentioned initiatives risk succumbing to bureaucratic inertia, fiscal wastage, or systemic corruption, which can ultimately alienate the very citizens they were designed to serve. Therefore, a robust evaluation framework acts as a critical mechanism for accountability, allowing policymakers to identify operational inefficiencies and adapt their strategies based on empirical evidence rather than mere political rhetoric.

The systematic evaluation of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme is a vital democratic and administrative necessity, ensuring that the vast allocation of state resources remains strictly aligned with its original humanitarian and economic objectives. Without a rigorous and independent assessment, even the most well-intentioned initiatives risk succumbing to bureaucratic inertia, fiscal wastage, or systemic corruption, which can ultimately alienate the very citizens they were designed to serve. Therefore, a robust evaluation framework acts as a critical mechanism for accountability, allowing policymakers to identify operational inefficiencies and adapt their strategies based on empirical evidence rather than mere political rhetoric.

Furthermore, evaluating the MBG programme necessitates a comprehensive critical lens that balances its undeniable social merit—such as addressing chronic stunting and enhancing human capital—against the immense logistical and ethical complexities of its execution. Given that the initiative consumes an unprecedented portion of the national budget, reaching £15.2 billion for the 2026 fiscal year, a formal review is essential to ensure that public funds are effectively translating into measurable health outcomes. Because the programme intersects with sensitive issues of political patronage and regional economic disparities, a transparent evaluation serves as a vital safeguard, ensuring the project remains a genuine tool for social equity rather than a vehicle for vested interests.

Evaluating the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme requires a nuanced understanding of its ambitious scale and the multifaceted challenges inherent in such a massive social undertaking. On the surface, the initiative represents a commendable stride towards addressing chronic stunting and nutritional deficiencies among the Indonesian youth, potentially fostering a more robust and capable future workforce. By guaranteeing daily caloric and micro-nutrient intake, the government is essentially investing in human capital, which is a cornerstone of long-term economic stability and national prosperity.

However, the sheer logistics of distributing fresh, nutritious meals across an archipelago as vast as Indonesia present a formidable hurdle that cannot be overlooked. There are legitimate concerns regarding the integrity of the supply chain, as maintaining food safety and quality standards in remote regions requires a sophisticated infrastructure that is currently under significant strain. Furthermore, the fiscal implications are substantial; critics often point out that the immense budgetary allocation required for MBG might inadvertently crowd out funding for other essential sectors, such as primary healthcare or digital infrastructure, leading to a complex debate over opportunity costs.

From a socio-economic perspective, the programme’s success hinges on its ability to integrate with local economies rather than relying solely on large-scale industrial providers. If the procurement process prioritises local farmers and smallholders, it could trigger a virtuous cycle of regional development and food sovereignty. Nevertheless, without rigorous oversight and transparent auditing, there remains a persistent risk of bureaucratic inefficiencies or leakages that could undermine the programme's ultimate efficacy. In summary, while the MBG programme is a bold and visionary step towards social equity, its long-term viability will depend entirely on meticulous execution, fiscal discipline, and a relentless focus on logistical transparency.

To understand the logistical and economic landscape of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme, it is highly instructive to examine the precedents set by other emerging economies, notably Brazil, India, and South Africa. These nations have implemented some of the world’s largest school feeding initiatives, and their experiences offer a roadmap for navigating the complexities of large-scale nutritional interventions.

Brazil’s Programa Nacional de Alimentação Escolar (PNAE) is frequently cited as a gold standard due to its clever integration of social welfare and agricultural policy. A pivotal legislative turning point occurred in 2009, when Brazil mandated that at least 30% of the programme’s budget must be used to purchase food directly from local family farms. This strategy addressed two logistical hurdles at once: it reduced the carbon footprint and costs associated with long-distance haulage while simultaneously injecting capital into rural economies. By decentralising procurement to the municipal level, Brazil ensured that meals were culturally relevant and fresh, a model that Indonesia could adapt to its diverse regional palates and remote islands.

India’s Mid-Day Meal Scheme (MDMS), the largest of its kind globally, illustrates the immense challenges of maintaining hygiene and consistency across over a million schools. While the programme has significantly bolstered school enrolment and reduced calorie deficiency, it has faced persistent issues with "leakage" and food safety. To mitigate these, India has increasingly turned to centralised kitchen models in urban areas—where high-tech facilities can prepare thousands of meals simultaneously with strict quality control—while relying on community-run kitchens in tribal or remote regions. This hybrid approach suggests that Indonesia may need to eschew a "one-size-fits-all" delivery method in favour of one that distinguishes between the infrastructure of Java and more isolated provinces.

The National School Nutrition Programme (NSNP) in South Africa highlights the critical importance of school-level infrastructure. Evaluations there have shown that even when funding is available, the lack of proper on-site storage and clean cooking facilities often results in suboptimal meal quality or delays. South Africa’s use of "food handlers"—often mothers from the local community who are paid a stipend to prepare meals—serves as a reminder that these programmes are not merely about food delivery, but also about creating local employment. However, South Africa’s struggle to ensure that meals are served early enough in the day to aid concentration underscores the need for meticulous timing in the MBG's operational rollout.

In conclusion, the success of Indonesia's MBG programme will likely hinge on whether it can replicate Brazil’s localised procurement to support farmers, while adopting India’s technological monitoring to prevent waste and ensure safety.

The investigation into the involvement of high-ranking officials and their associates in the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme has become a focal point of intense public and institutional scrutiny throughout 2025 and into 2026. Reports from reputable civil society organisations and independent media outlets suggest that the programme’s rapid rollout, combined with its astronomical budget—reaching £15.2 billion (Rp335 trillion) for the 2026 fiscal year—has created significant fertile ground for patronage and conflicts of interest.

Detailed investigations by Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) and Tempo Magazine have highlighted a pattern of "cronyism" regarding the management of Nutrition Service Units (SPPG), which serve as the central kitchens for the programme. Their findings indicate that:

• Affiliated Foundations: Several foundations and companies awarded contracts to manage these kitchens are allegedly linked to political allies, former military personnel, and family members of the current administration.
• Lack of Open Tendering: Critics argue that the selection process for these service units has often bypassed transparent, competitive bidding, favouring entities with proximity to power under the guise of "national security" or "emergency implementation."
• Institutional Encroachment: The involvement of the National Police (Polri) and the military in the direct management and distribution of meals has raised concerns regarding the militarisation of social welfare and the potential for these institutions to control lucrative procurement chains.

Government watchdogs have substantiated several of these concerns through formal audits and field investigations:

• The Ombudsman’s Discovery: The Indonesian Ombudsman recently uncovered cases of "Premium Rice Fraud", where suppliers allegedly charged the state for premium-grade rice whilst delivering inferior, broken grains. This suggests that even when officials are not directly "owning" the project, weak oversight of politically connected suppliers is leading to significant budget leakage.
• KPK Oversight: The Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) has flagged "systemic corruption risks" due to the centralised nature of the National Nutrition Agency (BGN). They have specifically noted reports of "price mark-ups" and the delivery of meals valued significantly lower than the disbursed budget per portion.

In response to these allegations, President Prabowo Subianto has vehemently defended the programme, asserting that the budget is derived from rigorous efficiency drives and is intended to be protected from corruption. The administration has recently introduced Presidential Regulation (Perpres) No. 115 of 2025 on the Governance of MBG to standardise procurement and has pledged to integrate digital monitoring tools to increase transparency.

The evidence suggests that while the programme is achieving its scale, the involvement of "politically exposed persons" in its supply chain is a verifiable concern rather than mere speculation.

The escalation of conflict-of-interest allegations surrounding the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme has followed a troubling chronological trajectory, beginning with the initial structural appointments in late 2024 and intensifying through the massive budgetary expansions of 2025 and early 2026. The genesis of these concerns emerged in August 2024, when the establishment of the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) saw several key leadership positions filled by individuals with deep-rooted ties to the incoming administration's political inner circle, raising immediate questions about the independence of the procurement oversight body. By January 2025, as the first nationwide pilot projects were launched, investigative reports began to surface regarding the selection of "Service Units" (SPPG) in West Java, where it was discovered that several newly formed catering consortiums were chaired by former military officers and relatives of regional political figures who lacked any prior experience in large-scale food logistics.

The situation grew more complex in May 2025, when a high-profile audit revealed that a significant contract for milk fortification in Central Java had been awarded to a subsidiary of a major conglomerate whose board of directors included active members of a government-aligned political party. This specific case was later flagged by the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) in July 2025 as a primary example of "strategic patronage," where the proximity to power appeared to supersede technical competency in the bidding process. As the programme transitioned into its full-scale implementation in October 2025, the Ombudsman of the Republic of Indonesia documented a series of "delivery failures" in Eastern Indonesia, tracing the sub-standard meal quality back to local distributors who had reportedly secured their contracts through direct appointments sanctioned by provincial officials rather than through open, competitive tenders.

By the turn of the year in January 2026, the focus shifted to the "middlemen" in the supply chain, as reports emerged from Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) detailing how several logistical firms responsible for the last-mile delivery of ingredients were owned by individuals serving on various government advisory boards. This timeline of events culminated in February 2026 with the introduction of Presidential Regulation No. 115 of 2025 being put to the test, as public pressure mounted for a complete disclosure of the beneficial ownership of all primary contractors involved in the multi-billion pound initiative. These sequential developments illustrate a persistent tension between the programme’s noble humanitarian objectives and a procurement system that appears increasingly vulnerable to the influence of "politically exposed persons" and their commercial interests.

The question of whether Presidential Regulation (Perpres) No. 115 of 2025 possesses sufficient legal teeth to eliminate conflicts of interest remains a subject of intense debate among legal scholars and anti-corruption watchdogs in early 2026. On paper, the regulation introduces several progressive mechanisms designed to enhance oversight, most notably the requirement for a "Beneficial Ownership Declaration" for all primary contractors, which aims to unmask the individuals who ultimately profit from the multi-trillion rupiah contracts. Furthermore, it mandates the integration of an AI-driven "Digital Dashboard" for real-time procurement monitoring, theoretically allowing the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) to flag price anomalies or repetitive contract awards to the same politically connected consortiums.

However, a critical analysis suggests that several structural loopholes persist which may undermine the regulation's efficacy. Critics argue that while the Perpres strengthens the audit trail, it fails to explicitly prohibit "revolving door" appointments, where former officials or their immediate relatives can still lead foundations or cooperatives that participate in the MBG supply chain under the guise of "community-based providers." Additionally, the regulation grants significant discretionary powers to regional heads in certain "emergency" or "remote" logistical contexts, potentially creating a legal "blind spot" where competitive bidding can be bypassed in favour of direct appointments for reasons of national urgency.

Ultimately, the strength of Perpres No. 115 of 2025 depends less on its written provisions and more on the political will of the law enforcement agencies, such as the KPK and the Attorney General’s Office, to prosecute influential figures when violations occur. Without an independent oversight body that is insulated from executive pressure, there is a lingering risk that the regulation may serve more as a "procedural shield" to legitimise existing patronage networks rather than a genuine tool for systemic reform.

The assessment of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme’s impact on poverty and employment in 2026 reveals a complex socio-economic landscape where immediate statistical gains are tempered by structural inequalities. On the poverty alleviation front, the programme has indeed provided a critical safety net for low-income households by significantly reducing their daily expenditure on food, which typically accounts for the largest portion of a poor family's budget. This "in-kind" transfer has effectively prevented millions of vulnerable citizens from falling below the poverty line during periods of food price volatility, contributing to a modest decline in the national poverty rate. However, critics argue that while the programme addresses the symptoms of poverty through nutritional support, it does not necessarily tackle the root causes of systemic indigence, such as the lack of access to high-quality education or sustainable credit.

In terms of the labour market, the MBG initiative has acted as a substantial catalyst for job creation, particularly through the establishment of thousands of Nutrition Service Units (SPPG) and the expansion of local supply chains. The demand for cooks, distributors, and administrative staff has absorbed a significant number of informal workers, thereby contributing to a reduction in the headline unemployment figure. Nevertheless, the quality of this employment remains a point of contention, as many of these newly created roles are contractual or part-time, lacking the long-term security and benefits associated with formal industrial employment. Furthermore, the reliance on local "food handlers" often mirrors the South African model, providing vital stipends to community members but not necessarily fostering high-level technical skills that would facilitate upward professional mobility.

Regarding the reduction of the wealth gap, the programme’s efficacy in narrowing the Gini coefficient is perhaps its most debated aspect. While the redistribution of state funds into the hands of local farmers and small-scale caterers should, in theory, diminish regional disparities, the aforementioned issues of political patronage threaten to concentrate the programme's massive profits among a small elite of well-connected contractors. If the procurement process disproportionately favours large, politically-linked conglomerates over genuine smallholders, the MBG programme risks inadvertently widening the chasm between the wealthy political class and the impoverished masses. Consequently, while the programme has undoubtedly eased the immediate burden on the poor and stimulated local hiring, its ability to foster genuine, long-term economic equality depends entirely on the rigorous exclusion of vested interests from its financial heart.

The geographical analysis of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme’s impact on the Human Development Index (HDI) reveals a widening disparity between Indonesia’s developed urban centres and its underdeveloped frontier regions. In more industrialised provinces such as West Java and East Java, the pre-existing logistical infrastructure has allowed for a swift and efficient rollout, resulting in immediate improvements in the health and education components of the HDI as student attendance stabilizes and nutritional markers improve. Conversely, in remote provinces like Papua or East Nusa Tenggara, the exorbitant cost of transporting fresh produce across rugged terrain has led to significant delays and higher per-unit costs, which often dilute the actual nutritional value reaching the beneficiaries. Consequently, while the national HDI average may show an upward trend, the geographical wealth and development gap risks becoming more entrenched if the programme’s resources continue to flow more smoothly into regions that are already economically advantaged.

Furthermore, the disparity in regional fiscal capacity plays a pivotal role in how the HDI is influenced by the MBG initiative at the provincial level. Wealthier provinces have been able to augment the central government's funding with regional budgets to build superior cooking facilities and implement rigorous health monitoring systems, whereas poorer regions remain entirely dependent on the fluctuating efficiency of the central bureaucracy. This has created a "developmental bottleneck" where the most vulnerable populations—intended to be the primary beneficiaries—receive the least consistent service quality. Without a targeted, province-specific intervention strategy that provides additional logistical support to Eastern Indonesia, the MBG programme might inadvertently exacerbate the historical socio-economic divide between the "Indonesian heartland" and its peripheral territories.

The public consensus regarding the claim that the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme has reduced poverty, unemployment, and inequality is deeply polarised, reflecting a disconnect between official government statistics and the lived experience of the citizenry. On one hand, supporters of the administration point to data showing a marginal decline in the poverty headcount, arguing that the guaranteed daily provision of meals has effectively shielded the most vulnerable families from the spiralling costs of basic commodities. This segment of the public views the programme as a transformative social contract that provides immediate relief to the working class, thereby justifying the immense fiscal expenditure as a necessary investment in the nation’s social stability.

On the other hand, a significant portion of the public, led by economic analysts and civil society activists, remains highly sceptical of the government’s triumphant narrative, particularly concerning the reduction of the wealth gap. There is a widespread perception that while the poor receive "plates of food," the "vats of profit" are being diverted towards a narrow elite of politically connected contractors, thus reinforcing rather than dismantling the structures of inequality. Furthermore, the claim regarding reduced unemployment is frequently met with the counter-argument that the jobs created—largely in food preparation and local logistics—are often precarious, low-wage, and lacking in professional longevity. Consequently, the public debate is currently framed not by whether the programme is beneficial in a vacuum, but by whether its benefits are being distributed fairly or if it is merely a sophisticated mechanism for perpetuating established patronage networks.

In 2026, social media sentiment and independent polling have become critical barometers for the perceived legitimacy of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme, revealing a stark divide between the capital and the provinces. Data from digital monitoring firms indicate that while the initial hashtag campaigns were overwhelmingly positive, the narrative has shifted toward a more cynical critique of the procurement process, with terms such as "orang dalam" (insiders) and "jatah proyek" (project quotas) frequently trending alongside news of new kitchen inaugurations. Independent polling by agencies such as Indikator Politik and Lembaga Survei Indonesia (LSI) confirms this trend, showing that while the public appreciates the tangible benefit of the meals, over 60% of respondents express deep concern that the contracts are not being awarded based on merit, but rather on political proximity.

This public distrust is further exacerbated by viral "citizen journalism" reports that highlight the disparity between the high-quality meals served during presidential visits and the significantly poorer fare provided in daily local operations. The sentiment data suggests a growing "fairness gap," where the public in rural areas feels that the economic stimulus promised by the programme is being captured by urban-based conglomerates rather than local cooperatives. Consequently, the government faces a significant "trust deficit" that could undermine the programme's long-term sustainability, as the perception of corruption often outweighs the statistical successes of nutritional improvement in the eyes of the electorate.

To address the mounting "trust deficit" regarding the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme, a strategic communication and transparency plan must move beyond mere rhetoric and embrace radical institutional openness. The government should initiate a National Transparency Portal, a real-time digital interface that provides the public with granular data on every Nutrition Service Unit (SPPG), including the names of the beneficial owners of the contracting firms and the specific origin of the ingredients used. By transitioning from a closed-door procurement model to an open-ledger system, the administration can directly counter the "insider trading" narrative with verifiable evidence of competitive bidding. Furthermore, establishing an independent Citizens' Oversight Committee, composed of academics, nutritionists, and community leaders, would provide a non-partisan layer of verification that ensures the quality of meals served in remote villages matches the standards promised in the capital.

The second pillar of this strategy involves an aggressive Localisation Campaign that shifts the storytelling focus from massive state achievement to regional economic empowerment. Instead of highlighting grand kitchen inaugurations led by high-ranking officials, the communication should spotlight the stories of local smallholders and cooperatives whose livelihoods have been transformed by the programme. This "bottom-up" narrative, supported by audited data on regional capital injection, would help mitigate the perception that wealth is being concentrated in urban conglomerates. Finally, the introduction of a Whistleblower Integrity Channel, managed by an external third party rather than the National Nutrition Agency itself, would empower citizens and workers to report irregularities without fear of reprisal, thereby fostering a culture of collective vigilance that is essential for the long-term integrity of such a vast social undertaking.

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