As healthcare, education and housing costs rise sharply across Indonesia, public frustration is increasingly colliding with political rhetoric that appears disconnected from everyday economic realities.
Indonesia’s politics has always carried a certain theatrical quality, but recent remarks by Cabinet Secretary Teddy Indra Wijaya risk turning governance into performance at precisely the moment when substance is most needed. His warning about an ‘inflation of observers’ – a swipe at critics and analysts – may have been intended to defend the administration’s credibility. Instead, it has struck a nerve across a society grappling with far more tangible forms of inflation: the kind that empties wallets, reshapes life choices and quietly erodes trust.
The irony is difficult to ignore. The Cabinet Secretariat’s formal mandate is not ideological combat or narrative management but governance support – coordinating policy, resolving inter-ministerial friction and ensuring that presidential directives translate into outcomes. Yet its public discourse has drifted towards defending authority rather than addressing the lived economic strain facing millions of Indonesians. In a country where political legitimacy has long hinged on delivering material improvements, this rhetorical pivot feels not only misplaced but politically risky.
The inflation confronting Indonesians is not abstract. It is stubborn, uneven and deeply personal. Healthcare costs, for instance, are surging at rates that dwarf headline inflation. Projections by Indonesian’s Financial Services Authority suggest medical inflation could reach between 13.6 and 19.4 per cent in 2025 – among the highest in the Asia-Pacific. These figures are not merely technical anomalies; they reflect structural vulnerabilities. Around 90 per cent of pharmaceutical raw materials are imported, leaving the system exposed to currency fluctuations and global supply shocks. When the rupiah weakens, the cost of illness rises with it. For many households, a single hospital visit is no longer a contingency but a financial threat.
Education tells a similar story. Once seen as the ladder to Indonesia’s expanding middle class, it is increasingly becoming a gatekeeper. Tuition fees – from primary school to university – have surged well beyond general inflation, with some estimates suggesting increases of several hundred per cent over the past decade. Even modest monthly rises, such as the 1.59 per cent increase recorded in August 2024, accumulate into long-term exclusion. The consequence is subtle but profound: aspiration is being priced out of reach, and inequality is hardening in ways that will outlast any single administration.
Housing and daily living costs compound the pressure. In Jakarta, only around half of households own their homes, with a significant proportion reliant on rental markets. Meanwhile, surveys indicate that nearly 60 per cent of Indonesians have borrowed money simply to cover everyday expenses. These are not the signals of a society at ease. They point instead to a middle class under strain – the very demographic that has underpinned Indonesia’s economic resilience and democratic stability since Reformasi in the late 1990s.
Public sentiment in Indonesia now carries a quiet tension that is difficult to ignore. According to recent survey findings reported by Tempo, President Prabowo Subianto still commands strong approval ratings above 70 per cent, yet the House of Representatives (DPR) lingers as the least trusted institution, with confidence falling below the halfway mark – a stark and emotional contradiction at the heart of the republic.
This is a fracture in democratic feeling, where hope is invested in a single figure while doubt shadows the very institutions meant to sustain the nation’s political life. Political history suggests that when trust becomes personalised rather than institutionalised, it begins to thin under pressure — not all at once, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, as frustrations over rising costs, unequal access and unmet expectations accumulate in everyday life.
What emerges is not immediate upheaval, but something quieter and perhaps more dangerous: a slow erosion of belief, where citizens begin to question, to disengage. When a tipping point arrives, it does not simply challenge a government — it reshapes the contract between state and society, leaving behind uncertainty about whether the system itself can still be relied upon.
There is an international dimension here that should not be overlooked. Indonesia is actively positioning itself as a consequential middle power – engaging in BRICS discussions, pursuing trade agreements with the European Union and projecting diplomatic influence on issues such as Gaza reconstruction. This outward ambition depends on inward coherence. A nation’s credibility abroad is inseparable from its effectiveness at home. When domestic pressures mount, the narrative of stability that underpins foreign policy begins to fray.
Comparisons with other democracies are instructive. In systems such as the United Kingdom, the Cabinet Secretary operates largely behind the scenes – a technocratic figure focused on coordination rather than commentary. Indonesia’s version of the role has evolved differently, blending administrative function with political visibility. That hybridity can be an asset, but only if it reinforces governance rather than substituting for it. When public communication drifts into defensiveness, it risks obscuring the very issues that demand attention.
None of this is to deny the challenges facing the Indonesian government. Inflationary pressures are global, supply chains remain volatile, and climate risks – including the looming threat of El Niño – could yet disrupt food security. But acknowledging complexity is not the same as deflecting accountability. Citizens are not asking for perfection; they are asking for focus.
There is, in fact, an opportunity embedded in this moment. The Cabinet Secretary, by virtue of proximity to the presidency and influence across ministries, is uniquely positioned to bridge the gap between policy and perception. Coordinating a coherent response to healthcare costs, education affordability and housing pressures would not only address material concerns but also restore confidence in the machinery of government. Transparency, too, matters, not as a slogan, but as a practice of engaging openly with data, trade-offs and progress.
The ‘inflation’ that matters most in Indonesia today is not found in commentary or critique. It is found in hospital bills, school fees, rent payments, and grocery receipts. Recognising that distinction is not a concession to critics. It is a prerequisite for governing effectively — and for sustaining the trust on which both domestic stability and international credibility ultimately depend.
Kurniawan Arif Maspul
Kurniawan Arif Maspul is a researcher and interdisciplinary writer focusing on Islamic diplomacy and Southeast Asian political thought. He holds an MEd in Advanced Teaching, an MBA and an MA in Islamic Studies and is currently pursuing a Master’s in Islamic Banking and Finance at Al-Madinah International University in Malaysia.