If President Prabowo Subianto refuses to reverse the decision to appoint 30 deputy ministers to double jobs as commissioners in state-owned enterprises (SOEs), he risks more than just his administration’s credibility. He is endangering his legitimacy. Public frustration is mounting, as these appointments reward political elites while millions of ordinary Indonesians continue to struggle in poverty.
Continued disregard will accelerate a crisis of trust that could swiftly undermine his presidency because this is not just policy failure. This is something people take personally. It hits home for millions. This isn’t merely a policy misstep. It has become a symbol of arrogance, greed, and a government increasingly detached from the reality faced by its people.
And the questions being asked are simple, sharp, and damning.
Do these deputy ministers have nothing to do? If they have so much free time to sit on SOE boards, what exactly are their core responsibilities? Why create deputy ministerial positions at all if their time is spent moonlighting as commissioners?
Or is the issue money? Are they not being paid enough to fulfill their primary roles? That argument doesn’t hold. A deputy minister already earns a base salary of nearly IDR 20 million per month, and when you add tactical funds, travel allowances, operational budgets, and various perks, the amount available for personal use can reach up to IDR 100 million per month. And now, these same deputy ministers will receive hundreds of millions of rupiah more per month through their commissioner positions, appointments that require no transparent selection, no proven track record, and often no sectoral expertise. These roles come with monthly honorariums, performance bonuses, meeting allowances, official facilities, and more, all paid out of public funds, all for doing a job that often amounts to rubber-stamping decisions or staying silent.
By comparison, the average Indonesian survives on less than IDR 5 million monthly, and that’s for those with regular jobs. What about millions of others who live from informal and unsteady jobs?
Then what about the SOEs themselves? Do commissioner positions come with no real work or responsibility? If so, why have them at all? Is this inefficiency part of the SOE system? Or worse, is it a deliberate act of legalised looting, a scheme to funnel public resources into private hands?
Take the example of Deputy Minister for Higher Education, Science and Technology, Stella Christie, who already appears out of her depth in her one job. Eight months into her tenure, she is more visible on talk shows than in serious policymaking. Meanwhile, the higher education sector is collapsing. The Research Integrity Risk Index (R12) has red-flagged even the country’s most respected universities. And now, she’s been appointed commissioner at PT Pertamina Hulu Energy. With a background in psychology and no experience in the energy and petroleum industry, what expertise does she bring to upstream petroleum governance? Her case isn’t exceptional. It’s representative of a system where connections matter more than competence.
Then there is Deputy Minister of Communication and Digital Affairs, Nezar Patria. How can he be appointed President Commissioner of Indosat, a major player in the very industry he is supposed to regulate? As a deputy minister, his role is to oversee companies like Indosat, not to become part of them.
Even more troubling is who else has been appointed to SOEs and their subsidiaries. Beyond deputy ministers, the administration is also rewarding political buzzers, social media influencers, musicians, YouTubers, content creators, and pollsters, all of whom publicly supported Prabowo during the election, with strategic positions in companies they know nothing about. They are being given commissioner seats not because of experience or qualification, but because of loyalty, public visibility, and campaign utility. The message is loud and clear: support the regime, and you will be rewarded regardless of your capacity.
This isn’t just administrative sloppiness. It’s the normalisation of a spoils system, where SOE positions become political currency, handed out to allies, loyalists, and even critics who need to be pacified. Governance and oversight are abandoned in favor of personal reward and control.
What makes this situation especially outrageous is the context in which it unfolds. According to the Central Statistics Agency (BPS), 24 million Indonesians live below the national poverty line, or 8.57% of the population. But under the World Bank’s upper-middle-income poverty standard ($6.85/day PPP), over 60% of Indonesians, or around 172 million people, are classified as poor. Under the new $8.30/day threshold, the number could rise to nearly 200 million. Meanwhile, millions more live without jobs or stuck in insecure, informal, or underpaid jobs.
Against this bleak socioeconomic backdrop, the sight of deputy ministers collecting a second paycheck and wielding power over industries they barely understand is not just tone-deaf. It is obscene. The appointments are a slap in the face to the millions struggling daily to make ends meet. They reflect a government willing to enrich itself while the people grow poorer.
SOEs are not ceremonial bodies. They are responsible for key sectors: energy, transport, telecommunications, agriculture. They require strategic oversight and sector-specific knowledge. By stuffing boards with politically connected amateurs, the government is not just undermining governance. It is sabotaging national development. These commissioners do not add value. They dilute it, and their presence weakens institutions, discourages professionals, and invites inefficiency and corruption.
More troubling is the silence of the institutions meant to hold the government accountable. Parliament offers no resistance. The Ministry of SOEs provides no justification. The Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) has gone quiet. Universities, research institutes, and civil society are largely mute. The watchdogs are either sleeping, or complicit.
This is how democracies rot, not through one dramatic collapse, but through a slow and deliberate erosion of accountability, ethics, and public trust.
At the center of it all lies the growing question of legitimacy. Prabowo was elected with promises of strength, reform, and effective governance. But that promise is already being tested. If the current trend continues, the public will not just be disappointed. They will be disillusioned. Trust in the presidency, the cabinet, and the state itself is wearing thin. And once that trust is gone, it is very hard to rebuild.
Legitimacy is not won in elections alone. It is earned and maintained through fairness, competence, and service. It is about proving every day that the government works for the people, not just for the elite. If Prabowo fails to understand this, he risks transforming his presidency into one remembered not for its reforms, but for its betrayal.
There is still time to change course. The President must revoke these double appointments, reassert a commitment to meritocracy, and restore integrity to public institutions. Otherwise, the narrative is already writing itself: a presidency that enriches the few, fails the many, and loses the trust it was built upon.
Omong-Omong Media’s editorial is also published in The Jakarta Post every Monday.
