From time to time, Indonesians have proven themselves attentive to foreign affairs. Public opinion has often been shaped – sometimes sharply – by how the government manages its international relations. Episodes such as the Brunei-gate controversy under Abdurrahman Wahid, the Tangguh gas export deal with China during Megawati Soekarnoputri’s presidency, and the intense debates over China-related issues in the era of Joko “Jokowi” Widodo all demonstrate that foreign policy has never been immune from domestic contestation. Media coverage has often amplified these debates. It somewhat turns diplomatic choices into matters of public judgment.
Nowhere was this more evident than in Indonesia’s engagement with China under Jokowi. His administration elevated China into one of Indonesia’s top three sources of foreign direct investment, particularly in terms of large-scale infrastructure projects. Yet this deepening partnership also prompted anxieties. The arrival of Chinese workers, who were often perceived to live exclusive, insulated lives at worksites, sparked fears among local communities about job displacement. These concerns, at times, spilled into racialized narratives that dominated headlines and public discourse.
Media coverage played a central role in magnifying these sentiments. One of the most controversial moments came when Tempo magazine published its August–September 2015 edition, featuring a cover that depicted Jokowi with slanted eyes alongside the headline “Welcome Chinese Laborers.” The sentiment reached its peak during the COVID‑19 pandemic. In April 2020, at the beginning of the pandemic, The Jakarta Post reported on local distrust toward Chinese workers, framing it as a potential flashpoint in Indonesia–China relations. Yet these examples were only a fraction of the overwhelming media attention devoted to the issue. The scale of the coverage often mismatched the complexity of the reality.
What makes this wave of criticism striking is its inconsistency. Jokowi’s predecessor, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, had also laid an extensive groundwork for closer ties with China. His administration upgraded bilateral relations twice – from a Strategic Partnership in 2005 to a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership in 2013 – and actively courted Chinese investment. Even symbolic gestures, such as issuing a Presidential decree to replace the term “Cina” with “Tiongkok” in official usage, signalled a deliberate effort to normalize ties. Yet these moves did not provoke the same level of public backlash. Yudhoyono was never branded a “Chinese puppet” in the way Jokowi was.
The difference lies less in policy than in politics. Under Jokowi, criticism was amplified by opposition groups, particularly Islamist movements and hardliners, who were excluded from power. These groups wielded significant influence in shaping public opinion. They mobilized anti-China narratives as part of a broader effort of political contestation. During Yudhoyono’s presidency, by contrast, many of these actors were accommodated within the governing coalition, dampening their incentive to oppose it.
This political dynamic has shifted again under Prabowo Subianto. His administration enjoys an overwhelming parliamentary majority through the Koalisi Indonesia Maju Plus, controlling roughly 80 percent of legislative seats. More importantly, Prabowo has successfully consolidated support among Islamist groups, many of whom were once vocal critics of Jokowi. The result is a markedly quieter public sphere when it comes to foreign policy.
This absence of public criticism and media coverage is striking, given the controversies that have already emerged. The November 2024 joint statement following Prabowo’s state visit to Beijing, which included the phrase “joint development in areas of overlapping claims,” drew concern from academics and policy observers. Yet it failed to trigger widespread public protest or sustained media scrutiny. Even The Jakarta Post adopted a relatively measured tone, framing Prabowo’s approach as a pragmatic effort to balance relations with China amid the anticipated return of Donald Trump to the White House.
Equally notable is the disappearance of narratives that once dominated public discourse. Anti-communist rhetoric linking China to atheism, which was frequently deployed against Jokowi, has largely faded in most media coverage. Islamist groups that once mobilized anti-China sentiment now appear subdued, offering little more than mild statements even on issues of central concern to the Muslim world. Prabowo’s engagement with initiatives such as Trump’s “Board of Peace,” for instance, have elicited only limited reaction, with organizations like the Majelis Ulama Indonesia eventually softening their stance after direct engagement with the president.
What emerges from all of this is a paradox: at a time when foreign policy decisions are particularly consequential and sometimes controversial, public scrutiny has diminished. To claim that the media in Indonesia has fully and consistently become a channel for public representation would be naïve. In practice, media independence in Indonesia is still constrained by a concentrated ownership structure. Reporters Without Borders also reports that Indonesian business and political elites exploit a legal system that fails to adequately protect press freedom.
Meanwhile, public attention has shifted inward, preoccupied with domestic economic challenges, post-pandemic recovery, and flagship programs such as the Makan Bergizi Gratis (Free Nutritious Meal) initiative.
This is not a functioning equilibrium. Foreign policy conducted without meaningful public oversight risks becoming overly personalized, shaped more by executive preference than by deliberative consensus. Indonesia’s democratic strength has long depended on its capacity for open debate. Even when that debate is messy or polarized, it serves as a safeguard against demagoguery.
The task ahead is to restore balance. Media diversity should be nurtured for the sake of a fully-fledged democracy. Media institutions must move beyond episodic coverage and invest in deeper, more analytical reporting. Engaging academic expertise, contextualizing policy decisions, and resisting both sensationalism and complacency are essential steps toward a more constructive discourse.
Prabowo’s foreign policy may be less noisy than his predecessor’s. But quieter does not necessarily mean better. Without sustained public critical engagement, silence risks allowing flawed foreign policy decisions to pass unchecked.