In recent weeks, citizens across Indonesia have been whispering, speculating, and even shouting on social media about what is really happening behind the turbulence of politics. The nation feels like it is standing at the edge of something uncertain. Some call it chaos, others call it transition. But in the streets and in the digital chatter, four striking perceptions keep resurfacing.
These perceptions—ranging from commonly acknowledged rumors to wildly conspiratorial fears—say more about the people’s distrust and memories of the past than about the clear legal reality. Still, they capture the mood of a restless country.
Perception One: The Impeachment of Prabowo and the Return of Jokowi
The first and most commonly heard narrative is about a supposed movement to impeach President Prabowo. In this version of events, Jokowi’s supporters are quietly preparing a plan: if Prabowo is pushed out, then Jokowi could return, perhaps under a new constitutional amendment. Some even imagine a bolder dream: a father-and-son leadership, with Jokowi and his son, Gibran, steering the nation together.
For those who still trust Jokowi’s steady hand, this perception carries a sense of hope. For others, it sounds like nothing more than political fiction. After all, impeaching a sitting president in Indonesia is no simple task—it requires multiple layers of institutional approval. And rewriting the constitution is an even taller order.
But in times of chaos, logic often loses to longing. For many citizens, this scenario is less about legal possibility and more about nostalgia: a wish to bring back the leader they felt was familiar and stable.
Perception Two: Gibran Out, Major Teddy In
If the first scenario leans on nostalgia, the second is laced with suspicion. Citizens recall that Indonesia’s Election Law sets the minimum age for a president at 40. Gibran Rakabuming Raka, Jokowi’s son and current vice president, is still under that mark. His candidacy was made possible by a special Constitutional Court ruling that carved out an exception for regional leaders.
Now, some whisper that this legal exception could be turned on its head. If the Ministry of Law and Human Rights reasserts the original age limit, then Gibran’s legitimacy as vice president might be challenged. And who would step in? According to the rumors, none other than State Secretary Teddy, recently promoted from Major to Lieutenant Colonel, could be installed as a replacement.
Prabowo and Teddy, the story goes, would then lead Indonesia as a new pair.
Though this idea stretches the bounds of political procedure—removing a sitting vice president is not as simple as re-checking an eligibility form—it reveals the public’s deep suspicion that legal technicalities can always be weaponized.
Perception Three: The Shadow of 1998 Returns
The third perception is the wildest, yet perhaps the most emotionally charged. Citizens still remember 1998, when chaos swept the country, Soeharto stepped down, and allegations of orchestrated violence and human rights violations stained the nation’s conscience.
Back then, Prabowo—still an active three-star general—was implicated by whispers of involvement. He eventually left for Jordan after his military career collapsed.
Now, with unrest spreading, some citizens fear that history is repeating itself. They imagine that today’s chaos is not random but designed. They suspect that Prabowo may be clearing the field of Jokowi’s allies, including his son Gibran, to consolidate his own power.
In this storyline, chaos is not a sign of weakness but a tool of control. And if true, it means the unrest could last not for days but for weeks, or longer.
Perception Four: The Age Rule That Haunts Gibran
Beneath all these scenarios lies a single thread: the rule of age. The law is clear about the limit, but the Constitutional Court’s exception is still debated. If the exception is reinterpreted or politically attacked, Gibran could find himself at the center of a constitutional storm.
And in that storm, the other three scenarios come alive. If Prabowo falls, Jokowi might try to rise again. If Gibran falls, Teddy might step in. If Gibran were a clearing target, chaos might serve as the smoke screen for something much larger.
A Mirror of Distrust
Whether any of these perceptions prove true is almost secondary. What matters is that citizens believe them, circulate them, and weave them into conversations in coffee shops, markets, and online threads.
Indonesia’s current turbulence is not only about political maneuvering at the top. It is also about the ghosts of the past—1998’s trauma, Jokowi’s unfinished legacy, and the sense that the rules of law are never truly final in a game of power.
For now, the nation waits, balancing between rumor and reality. But if there is one certainty, it is this: in times of chaos, wild perceptions spread faster than facts. And those perceptions, whether grounded or not, have the power to shape the very reality they describe.
