Pandji Pragiwaksono has been reported to the police on charges of public incitement and blasphemy over his stand-up comedy performance titled “Mens Rea”. This incident adds to a growing list of individuals who have faced potential prosecution for speaking out in recent years. It raises concerns about the current state of free expression in the country and how authorities respond to it.

More than a month after devastating floods and landslides struck Aceh and Sumatra Utara, Indonesia’s disaster response has entered what officials call the “recovery phase.” Emergency tents are slowly disappearing, task forces have been formed, and budget figures are being quoted with confidence. Yet beneath this official optimism lies a more uncomfortable reality: recovery is stalling not because of a lack of money, but because of a failure of governance.

The controversy surrounding Mens Rea, a stand-up comedy special by Indonesian comedian Pandji Pragiwaksono streamed on Netflix, has now crossed a troubling threshold. What began as public debate over satire has officially entered the realm of criminal law—an escalation that should alarm anyone concerned with freedom of expression in Indonesia.

Recently, Prabowo Subianto once again touted Indonesia’s free nutritious meal program (MBG), praising the country for surpassing Brazil in the number of recipients. He pointed out that while Brazil took 11 years to reach 40 million recipients, Indonesia exceeded 55 million in less than a year. However, this comparison raises important questions: Are the two programs truly comparable in terms of objectives, quality, and sustainability? More importantly, does the rapid expansion of MBG reflect genuine success that is worthy of pride?

The Football Association of Indonesia (PSSI) has officially named John Herdman as the head coach, marking a new phase for Indonesian national football that emphasizes not only immediate results but also long-term development of young talent. However, the question remains: Is a change in coaching leadership alone enough to drive meaningful improvements and achieve these ambitions?

Indonesia’s decision to establish a dedicated Ministry of Hajj and Umrah was hailed as a landmark reform. For decades, the management of Hajj affairs had been fragmented across institutions, often burdened by bureaucracy, inconsistent coordination, and recurring service complaints. The new ministry was expected to centralize authority, improve efficiency, and professionalize the handling of one of the most sensitive religious services in the country. Yet barely a year after its formation, the crisis surrounding Hajj Khusus 2026 has revealed how fragile this promise remains.

In recent years, especially 2025, youth-led protests erupted in many countries. Young people, often referred to as the “Gen Z”, joined hands to challenge corruption, economic inequality between political elites and citizens, and governance failures. Indonesia was no exception. With the help of social media as a unique tool for their activism, this generation has repeatedly managed to spark political debates. It might escalate into a full-fledged uprising if the ruling government keeps underestimating them in the coming year.

The renewed push by Gerindra to revive indirect local elections—allowing governors, mayors, and regents to be selected by local legislatures (DPRD) instead of citizens—has reignited an old debate that Indonesia thought it had settled a decade ago. The argument being sold to the public sounds pragmatic: elections are expensive, polarizing, and prone to money politics. But beneath the rhetoric of “efficiency” lies a more troubling political ambition—one that risks shrinking democratic space and returning power to the hands of party elites.

Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) has reconciled—at least formally. The leadership feud that threatened Indonesia’s largest Muslim organization has been folded neatly under the reassuring banner of islah. Statements of unity have been delivered. Photos of brotherhood have circulated. And the public has been told that NU is once again “solid.”

Indonesia’s late-December decision to reshuffle 187 senior officers within the Indonesian Armed Forces (TNI) is officially justified as part of routine regeneration and structural strengthening. On paper, it is a normal institutional exercise. But in a political context where the military’s role is increasingly scrutinized, such a massive rotation inevitably carries implications beyond internal management. This is not simply about who occupies which post; it is about the direction, priorities, and mindset of one of the country’s most powerful institutions.