In late July, Tempo magazine released a special edition commemorating “10 Years of Jokowi,” titled “Nawadosa Jokowi,” a term echoing the themes of student activism over the years. The issue delivered a scathing critique of President Joko Widodo’s two-term performance, highlighting how his tenure has worsened Indonesia’s democratic landscape. The criticism ranged from the establishment of political dynasties, the increased role of the military (TNI) in civilian matters, to the weakening of democratic institutions post-Reformasi, and failures in education, among others. Tempo outlined around 18 “sins” attributed to Jokowi, with one particularly striking article titled “The Destruction of the Good Man Thesis.”
It’s worth noting that Tempo once helped shape Jokowi’s image as a “good man,” starting from his time as the Mayor of Solo in 2008 and continuing into his successful 2014 presidential campaign. Ironically, the very president who rose to power as a product of democracy has, by many accounts, left democracy in a more precarious state.
I distinctly recall the enthusiasm in 2014 when Jokowi officially declared his presidential candidacy, with the iconic slogan “Jokowi is Us.” His campaign seemed to organically rally supporters across various sectors—NGO activists, workers, artists, entrepreneurs, and the media—who felt unbound by traditional party structures. There was genuine excitement and hope for a progressive vision, a refreshing contrast to the stale, top-down politics of the New Order era. Critics of Jokowi at the time were quickly labeled as cynical or apolitical, and some were even equated to being supportive of Fascism, considering his opponent in that election was Prabowo Subianto. Eventually, Jokowi won and thanked his volunteers, affirming their belief in his vision.
However, early signs of what was to come appeared soon after Jokowi took office. Just a year into his presidency, he issued Government Regulation No. 78 of 2015 (PP 78) on wages, effectively linking wage increases to inflation and economic growth data from the Central Bureau of Statistics (BPS), disregarding the annual cost of living survey, which traditionally set the benchmark for a Decent Living Standard (KHL). Protests by workers against this policy ended in the criminalization of 26 activists, foreshadowing a pattern of undermining worker rights and political dissent.
In 2016, Jokowi failed to follow through on promises to address the 1965 human rights violations. Later that year, he introduced Government Regulation in Lieu of Law No. 2/17, amending the Law on Mass Organizations (Ormas), followed by the controversial revisions to the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) Law, the Mineral and Coal Law (Minerba), and others. These actions led to massive student protests under the banner #ReformasiDikorupsi, which tragically resulted in five deaths.
As Jokowi’s presidency progressed, his policies increasingly diverged from the progressive ideals that initially propelled him to power. The Omnibus Law on Job Creation, the appointment of Prabowo as Defense Minister, the Criminal Code revision, the plan for the new capital (IKN), and, most recently, his alleged involvement in manipulating the Constitutional Court to allow his son Gibran to run as vice president alongside Prabowo, starkly contradicted the reformist image he once embodied.
Why Did We Keep Believing in Jokowi?
The warning signs of Jokowi’s political direction were evident early on, yet many chose to ignore them. A considerable number of his supporters maintained the belief that Jokowi was fundamentally a “good man” trapped by a corrupt political system, powerless against the entrenched interests surrounding him. This narrative ignored the reality that Jokowi himself became a part of the very structure he once vowed to change. Such thinking reflects the limitations of the liberal pluralist mindset prevalent among Indonesia’s middle class, which overemphasizes the individual’s agency while underestimating the power structures that drive political decisions.
This phenomenon stems from a dangerous “cult of personality” that has long plagued Indonesian politics. Discussions often revolve around a candidate’s character rather than scrutinizing their policies, programs, or ideologies. Jokowi’s initial progressive vision and campaign served merely as a gateway, allowing many of his supporters to become uncritical followers—Jokowists, if you will. Although some have since woken up to this reality, it’s been a slow and often painful realization.
The crux of the problem lies in this reliance on personal virtue. Instead of building progressive political power through mass organizing, political education, and consistent advocacy for core values, many pinned their hopes on a single “good man” descending to save the day. This mindset has dangerous implications, as it blinds society to structural issues and enables the rise of figures who may be even less democratic.
In the end, if we continue placing our faith in charismatic personalities rather than confronting systemic challenges, we risk allowing history to repeat itself. And in that, the greatest irony lies: the very belief in a “good man” may soon leave us with a leader who stands in stark opposition to the values we claim to hold dear.
