Prabowo, Megawati Maneuver Quietly for Indonesia’s Control

When more than thousands took to the streets in late August, Indonesia’s democracy once again revealed its fragile underbelly. The demonstrations, fuelled by discontent over governance and the widening gap between promises and reality, were not merely about policy-they were about trust. And in times of crisis, trust is currency. That is why the closed-door meeting held on August 31, where the President Prabowo Subianto sat with some of the nation’s most influential political figures, raises as many questions as it seeks to answer.

The optics were clear

Prabowo was not alone. Former President Megawati Soekarnoputri, Puan Maharani, MPR Chairman Ahmad Muzani, DPD Deputy Speaker Sultan Najamudin, Golkar leader Bahlil Lahadalia, PKB leader Muhaimin Iskandar, PAN leader Zulkifli Hasan, and NasDem leader Surya Paloh—all were present. Even Edhie Baskoro Yudhoyono. Yet one figure was conspicuously missing: Vice President Gibran Rakabuming Raka.

Prabowo’s decision to lean on Megawati, rather than his own deputy, is telling. It suggests that in the heat of crisis, he sees the former president as more useful than the young vice president he campaigned alongside. But if the goal was to showcase unity and resilience, why stop at Megawati? Why not extend the invitation to other living presidents—particularly Joko Widodo, who weathered multiple storms during his tenure, including the polarizing unrest of 2019 when whispers of treason filled the air? After all, Jokowi and Prabowo are no longer rivals but political confidants, often portrayed as something close to best friends.

Bonds Forged, Trust Shattered

What complicates this picture is the long and bitter history between Prabowo and Megawati. Many forget or never knew that the two once struck a secret deal known as the Batu Tulis Agreement in 2009. The pact was simple: Megawati would run for president with Prabowo as her vice president. Win or lose, if Prabowo sought the presidency in 2014, her party, PDIP, would back him unconditionally. Yet history played a different hand. In 2014, Megawati abandoned the deal, throwing her full weight behind Joko Widodo instead. Prabowo ran without her support, and the once-allies drifted into silence, barely acknowledging one another in public. The cold war dragged on until 2019, when Prabowo again mounted a challenge, again without Megawati’s blessing—and again, he lost.

Fast forward to the eve of Indonesia’s eighth presidential election. Prabowo, relentless as ever, returned to the stage, this time with a renewed push to court Megawati and the PDIP. His efforts seemed fruitful: Megawati expressed support, and Puan Maharani went on record confirming that PDIP would align itself with Prabowo’s government. It looked like old wounds had finally been patched. But then came the unexpected twist. Prabowo chose Gibran Rakabuming Raka, the son of President Jokowi, as his running mate for 2024. In an instant, the fragile rapprochement with Megawati collapsed. The PDIP withdrew its support and instead placed its bets on Ganjar Pranowo. For Megawati, it was yet another betrayal, a signal that Jokowi had used her party as a ladder only to build his own power base. Yet, in the end, it was Prabowo, not Ganjar, not Megawati, not Jokowi—who stood victorious.

Prabowo and Megawati aren’t just allies or rivals; they are power brokers who know how the game is played. And if Prabowo intends to push back against Jokowi’s lingering influence, he cannot do it alone. He needs Megawati and the machinery of her party. But while the political elite reshuffle allegiances in smoke-filled rooms, ordinary Indonesians are voicing their anger in the streets.

Temperatures

But while these political heavyweights trade deals in closed rooms, the real temperature of the nation is measured outside those walls. Their grievances are clear. How can taxes be raised by hundreds of percent when jobs are scarce, healthcare fragile, and daily life increasingly precarious? How can lawmakers justify a seventy-fivefold increase in their salaries and benefits compared to Jakarta’s minimum wage, while some of them, like Ahmad Sahroni and Eko Patrio the member of the parliament, openly mock the very citizens who protest such excess? 

The anger turned tragic on August 28, when an online motorcycle driver was killed after being run over by a police armored vehicle during the protests. To make matters worse, several media outlets framed the incident not as a crushing blow but as a mere accident, claiming he was “hit” rather than “run over.” Such semantic gymnastics only deepened public outrage. To the people on the streets, it confirmed what they already suspected: that the system protects the powerful and dismisses the powerless.

In the end, the question lingers: what steps will the government take next? Will more lives be lost before meaningful change arrives, or will the voices echoing from the streets finally be heard? For now, the answer lies not in promises, but in actions.

Article written before the sacking of Sri Mulyani.

Photo: Universiti Gajah Mada

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