Back in Uniform

Indonesia’s new military law revives the spectre of Suharto-era authoritarianism.

Indonesia’s newly passed military law, expanding the armed forces’ reach into civilian institutions, signals a worrying regression. Less than six months into his presidency, Prabowo Subianto, a former general, son-in-law to a dictator and alleged human rights violator, is already steering the world’s third-largest democracy back toward a deeply illiberal past.

On March 20, Indonesia’s Parliament passed sweeping amendments to the 2004 Armed Forces Law. These permit active-duty military officers to take on a wider array of civilian roles, including positions within the attorney general’s office, the counterterrorism agency, the narcotics agency, and the state secretariat.

The law also extends the retirement age of military officers, further entrenching their long-term influence. The legislation was rushed through Parliament, with limited debate and scant public consultation. Unsurprisingly, it passed unanimously, thanks to Prabowo’s ruling coalition which dominates the legislature.

Defenders of the law argue it is a necessary adaptation to a shifting geopolitical and technological landscape. But activists and academics see the changes as a blatant rollback of reforms painstakingly achieved after 1998, when the 32-year New Order regime of Suharto - a military-backed dictatorship that ended in bloodshed and economic collapse - was finally dismantled.

To understand the magnitude of this reversal, one must recall the central role Indonesia’s military, or Tentara Nasional Indonesia (TNI), played under Suharto. The New Order regime was built on the corpses of Suharto’s opponents: from 1965 to 1966, more than a million alleged communists and leftists were slaughtered by the military and its proxies. This terror served as the foundational myth of the regime, positioning the TNI as the guardian of national unity and stability.

From there emerged dwifungsi - the “dual function” doctrine that institutionalised the military’s control over not just defence, but also political, economic, and administrative affairs. Soldiers sat in Parliament, ran state-owned enterprises, and governed provinces. Civil society was neutered. Dissent was met with prison, exile, or worse. East Timor, which Indonesia brutally occupied until 1999, became a killing field. So too did Aceh and Papua. Throughout, military officers acted with near-total impunity.

It took the trauma of the 1997 Asian financial crisis and an explosion of popular anger to unseat Suharto.

In the democratic euphoria that followed, Indonesia’s reformists moved swiftly to end dwifungsi. The military was stripped of its parliamentary quota, its role in civilian administration was curtailed, and laws were passed to assert civilian supremacy over the armed forces. Yet Prabowo’s rise marks the culmination of a slow, creeping re-militarisation.

A former commander of the notorious special forces unit Kopassus, Prabowo was discharged in 1998 after being implicated in the abduction and torture of student activists. He was banned from entering the United States for two decades. That he is now president speaks both to the erosion of political memory and the resilience of military prestige.

Still, nostalgia for authoritarian order is not unique to Indonesia. Around the world, strongmen are on the march, promising security and efficiency in exchange for civil liberties and democratic accountability. What makes Indonesia’s case distinctive is that its democratic rollback is occurring not through tanks in the streets, but through laws in Parliament. The veneer of legitimacy obscures the corrosion of reform.

Protests against the amendments have erupted across the country following the passage of the law. In the short term, this law may embolden a military culture long prone to abuse.

It threatens to marginalise civilian bureaucrats and politicians and undermine institutions tasked with ensuring accountability. Over time, the normalisation of military involvement in civilian life erodes the foundations of democracy.

Indonesia has often been held up as a model of post-authoritarian success: a Muslim-majority nation that transitioned to democracy, tamed its military and grew economically. That reputation is now in jeopardy. Prabowo, whose political resurrection once seemed improbable, may yet be remembered as the president who led Indonesia back into uniform.