Expressing her anger upon discovering that President Prabowo Subianto’s government had attempted to manipulate history through its efforts to rewrite the country’s past, senior journalist Uni Lubis told a session on “Rewriting Indonesian History” at the Alang-Alang Stage of the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 2025 that the current regime does, in fact, intend to deny the mass rape of Indonesian Chinese women in 1998.
Uni Lubis added that softening the narrative of the nation’s history during the New Order era could allow the government to award former president Soeharto official national-hero status. “It’s their plan from the outset,” she said.
Indonesian legislator Bonnie Triyana, another speaker in the session moderated by American professor Janet Steele of George Washington University, warned of the danger of awarding Soeharto national-hero status, saying it would preserve a culture of impunity and present a misleading picture to the young generation, suggesting that what happened during the New Order era was acceptable and that what the general had done was, in fact, noble.
Still on the topic of the country’s historical rewriting, a session titled “Revolution Across Borders,” which featured prominent writers and researchers on Indonesian history — David Van Reybrouck, Joss Wibisono, Klaas Stutje, and Hilmar Farid as moderator — unveiled fragments of history showing how Indonesian students and youths played a decisive role in the birth of an independent Indonesia, free from colonialism. While the current Indonesian regime is busy erasing key parts of history for its own interests, these writers and researchers have been working tirelessly to recover and reconnect the nation’s past.
Such pushback from the session was only one of the resisting voices challenging the ruling power’s narratives during the festival.
From Myanmar to Papua, from Wiji Thukul to Okky Madasari, and from censorship to indigenous rights, the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (UWRF) has become not only a meeting ground for literary writers and readers but also the region’s premier powerhouse of resistance, bringing together more than 300 artists, activists, and thinkers from over 30 countries.
Beyond the program’s surface, the festival has become a space where silenced voices find resonance, where art and activism meet, and where Southeast Asia’s fragile democracies are reflected, questioned, and re-imagined.
On its first day, the festival opened with a tribute to Wiji Thukul, Indonesia’s poet of resistance who disappeared under Suharto’s regime. His words: “Hanya ada satu kata: lawan!” (There is only one word: resist!) set the tone for the discussions that followed. From the poetry readings of young writers in exile to panels on indigenous storytelling and digital surveillance, UWRF 2025 has drawn a map of resistance stretching across Asia’s troubled landscapes.
Among the festival’s standout voices was Indonesian novelist and sociologist Okky Madasari, whose participation sparked discussions around artificial intelligence, censorship, and the moral duty of artists. “In this social-media age, you can never silence or suppress creative voices and creative works. The more you suppress them, the more they grow and spread,” she told a session on “The Tension Between Artistic Freedom and Censorship” on Saturday.
Moderated by Australian writer and journalist Brigid Delaney, and also featuring Erwin Arnada, the chief editor of the now-banned Playboy Indonesia, the session encouraged writers and artists to free their minds and creativity without worrying about censorship.
Okky’s voice resonated alongside those of exiled writers such as Ma Thida from Myanmar and younger authors, including those from Papua, who spoke about the price of dissent. Their stories, though drawn from different contexts, shared a haunting similarity: the violence of erasure. Whether it comes from authoritarian states, cultural conformity, or algorithmic suppression, the act of silencing remains a political tool. The festival has become a place where such tools are exposed and resisted through storytelling.
To show its support for the Palestinians, the festival allocated at least two sessions focusing on the plight of the Palestinian people, the Israeli genocide, and the push for Palestinian independence.
On Friday, the festival organized a session on “Israel and Palestine: Pathways to Peace,” featuring Palestinian-Syrian-Swedish poet Ghayath Almadhoun, Egyptian-Canadian novelist Omar El Akkad, and moderated by Belgian writer Annelien De Greef. They scrutinized Israel’s genocidal violence against the Palestinians in Gaza but also discussed ways to stop the violence and whether there is still hope for peace. The festival also hosted a specific session on Omar El Akkad’s works addressing the ongoing genocide against the Palestinians.
Since its founding in 2004, UWRF has positioned itself as an international literary gathering rooted in the local—born from the ashes of Bali’s 2002 bombings as an act of healing through storytelling. Yet, over the years, it has transformed into something more political, more urgent. The conversations in this year’s festival echo not just literary passion but the collective anxiety and defiance of a region grappling with tightening censorship, shrinking civic space, and new forms of digital authoritarianism.
Outside the formal sessions, the festival’s energy spills into the streets and cafés of Ubud. Murals inspired by feminist poetry line the alleyways. Independent publishers from Jakarta, Bangkok, and Manila showcase books banned or ignored by mainstream outlets. Activist collectives host open-mic nights where indigenous youth perform in their local languages, asserting both cultural pride and political defiance. The air feels thick with solidarity—fragile, perhaps, but real. UWRF has reaffirmed its role as a rare intersection of local and global struggles for justice.
Unlike corporate literary events elsewhere, UWRF remains grounded in community—yet it walks a tightrope. Indonesia’s own freedom of expression is increasingly under pressure, and the festival has faced past controversies for touching on “sensitive” issues such as the 1965 massacres or the West Papua conflict. But rather than retreat, UWRF 2025 has chosen to push forward, its curators insisting that art must not only entertain but also unsettle.
Festival founder Janet DeNeefe told audiences during the opening that UWRF was here to stay, adding that “At the core of our festival is a commitment to fostering cross-cultural dialogue and intellectual exchange, creating a vibrant platform for writers to share their insights and aspirations.”
“Every voice adds to the poetry of humanity, reminding us that we are all part of something larger than ourselves,” she said.
What makes UWRF 2025 striking is its balance between the poetic and the political, between introspection and action. It is not a protest rally, but it offers the same kind of awakening—a realization that art can expose what politics hides. It is also a reminder that Southeast Asia’s writers are not passive chroniclers but active participants in shaping moral and intellectual futures.
As evening falls over Ubud’s temples and rice fields, the festival’s venues glow with the murmur of ongoing conversations. Young readers line up for signed books; older ones linger in cafés debating freedom and faith. Somewhere, a poet recites verses about disappearing rivers. Somewhere else, a writer wonders aloud what “truth” still means in a world rewritten by algorithms. The festival feels alive, restless, and resistant.
From the exiled voices of Myanmar to the defiant words of Papua, from the revolutionary echoes of Wiji Thukul to the sharp critiques of Okky Madasari, Ubud once again proves that literature in this part of the world is not a luxury—it is a lifeline. And as UWRF 2025 unfolds, it reminds us that to write, to read, and to gather in defiance of silence is itself the most enduring form of resistance.
