In a country where absurdity often passes for politics, Fadli Zon has managed to stand out, not for brilliance or bravery, but for what can only be described as a historic level of sycophancy.
As Indonesia’s Minister of Culture, he has taken it upon himself to redefine both “culture” and “duty,” twisting them into instruments of personal devotion to the man who now sits as president, Prabowo Subianto.
We have seen some wild declarations in recent times. But nothing quite prepares you for the announcement that October 17, Prabowo’s birthday, will now be celebrated as Indonesia’s National Culture Day. This move, laughable on the surface, is in fact deeply dangerous. It follows close on the heels of another of Fadli’s brilliant innovations: the push to rewrite Indonesian history, cleansing it of inconvenient truths like the 1998 mass rapes of Chinese Indonesians and the abduction of pro-democracy activists, incidents in which Prabowo is widely believed to have played a key role.
But make no mistake. These are not the decisions of a government working in unison. These are the creations of one man’s obsession with proximity to power, a man so eager to impress his boss that he invents national days and erases national trauma without even being asked. There is no sign that Prabowo himself ordered these initiatives. In fact, there is reason to believe he didn’t. Fadli is doing what many sycophants in history have done: creating spectacles of loyalty in the hope of being seen as indispensable, the one man who will go further than anyone else in proving his devotion.
Yet in his blind ambition, Fadli Zon has done what few critics have been able to: he has reminded the nation of what it wanted to forget. Over the past year, the memory of Prabowo’s bloody past was beginning to fade. Many Indonesians, disillusioned by years of broken promises under Jokowi, desperate for strength, stability, or simply something new, were starting to give Prabowo a chance. Some had forgiven him. Others, unsure, were at least willing to grant him the benefit of the doubt. It was not that they forgot what happened in 1998. It was that they were ready to move forward, to see if time and power had changed the man.
Fadli Zon shattered that fragile space for healing. By erasing the facts, he reignited the anger. By glorifying the man, he brought back the shadow. Nothing triggers memory like denial. Nothing provokes pain like forced forgetting.
Fadli claims that the decision to designate October 17 as National Culture Day is based on proposals from artists themselves. But on what basis? Which artists? And hasn’t Fadli himself played an active role in orchestrating and promoting the idea, framing it as if it emerged organically from the cultural community? In reality, many artists and intellectuals have refused to be co-opted or cowed by the Ministry of Culture.
Just last week, Gerakan Nurani Bangsa — a coalition of respected intellectuals and artists initiated by former First Lady Sinta Nuriyah, philosopher Franz Magnis-Suseno, Alissa Wahid, and former Minister of Religious Affairs Lukman Hakim Saifuddin, and including figures such as Professor Melani Budianta, Sujiwo Tejo, Inayah Wahid, senior journalist Syamsuddin Ch. Haesy and author Okky Madasari — publicly declared their rejection and resistance against the ministry’s increasing authoritarianism, including the banning of cultural works, sidelining of critical voices, manipulation of narratives, and the return of feudalistic control over the arts. This public resistance is a clear message: the cultural community is not united behind Fadli. They see through the flattery, and they refuse to have culture reduced to personal tribute.
What could have been the beginning of a new chapter under Prabowo is now once again haunted by the past, not because his enemies are plotting, but because his own loyalist cannot help but perform. In trying to elevate Prabowo to mythic heights, Fadli has dragged him back into the mud of unresolved history.
This is not culture. This is court politics disguised as policy. It is propaganda masquerading as heritage. And it’s dangerous, not only because of what it erases, but because of what it replaces: a nation’s collective soul traded for one man’s birthday; a history written in blood, replaced by a self-congratulatory script.
Culture is not a tool of flattery. It is the living memory of a people, complex, painful, joyful, contradictory. To flatten it into a tribute to a military strongman is to destroy its essence. Fadli’s move is not just tone-deaf; it is a form of symbolic violence, a betrayal of those who suffered, a mockery of those who died, and a warning to those who still believe culture belongs to the people.
And perhaps most tragically, it is counterproductive even to the man it intends to serve. In politics, sometimes silence is wiser than praise. Sometimes letting wounds close on their own terms is more effective than trying to sew them shut with golden thread. But Fadli, like many who confuse devotion with desperation, does not understand restraint. He confuses performance for loyalty and assumes that power needs no dignity.
There is something pathetic, and dangerous, about a minister who turns culture into a mirror for one man’s ego. But what’s worse is the precedent it sets. When ministers compete to see who can praise the president most creatively, when national days and historical narratives are drafted not from scholarly consensus or public consultation but from personal ambition, we are no longer a republic. We are a palace, surrounded by jesters.
Fadli Zon may think he is securing his future. But in doing so, he is undermining the president’s legitimacy, distorting the public’s trust, and embarrassing a government that is still trying to prove itself. The irony is thick: the one who seeks to protect the president ends up exposing him. The one who aims to glorify ends up reminding the nation of blood, pain, and silence.
So let us be clear: this is not about political preference. This is about dignity, memory, and truth. A culture that erases its people’s pain is not culture. A history that glorifies the powerful while silencing the victims is not history. And a minister who creates policies to win favor, rather than serve the nation, is not a leader. He is, in the bluntest possible terms, a sycophant of the worst kind.
We can only hope that President Prabowo realizes how damaging this is, not only to his legacy, but to the very foundations of his administration. Because if the early months of power are filled with flattery, falsehood, and fanfare, what hope is there for what comes next? Or perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps we placed too much hope. Perhaps the Ministry of Culture was never meant to preserve memory or promote truth, but was established from the beginning to whitewash the past.
Fadli Zon may think he is building monuments. But in truth, he is digging graves, for culture, for memory, and perhaps, unwittingly, for the very man he worships.
Omong-Omong Media’s editorial is also published in The Jakarta Post every Monday.
