Indonesia’s protests may fade. The fury won’t.

Indonesia’s street protests over lawmakers’ allowances reveal a deeper frustration: Almost three decades after the fall of the Suharto dictatorship, political and economic power remain in the hands of the elite. The demonstrations may have died down for the moment — but the fury is unlikely to fade.

Jakarta appeared calmer on Monday, a stark contrast from the mayhem over the last few days. The immediate catalyst for the violence was the death of 21-year-old motorcycle taxi driver who was run over and killed by an armored police car during demonstrations in the capital.

Public anger at lawmakers’ greed has been growing. A decision to increase their housing allowance to around $3,000 per month — nearly 10 times Jakarta’s minimum wage — came at a time when ordinary citizens are struggling with the ever-rising cost of living and threats of mass layoffs. Nationwide protests left at least four people dead and hundreds injured. It’s the most serious test yet for President Prabowo Subianto, who was inaugurated about 10 months ago.

His Cabinet has also come under attack. ​​​​​​Viral footage on social media showed looters targeting the homes of several lawmakers, including the widely respected Finance Minister Sri Mulyani Indrawati. Rioters were later seen carrying Louis Vuitton and Hermes handbags, Labubu dolls and even bathtubs.

In a national address, Prabowo announced he was rolling back some of the perks and appealed for calm. He also promised a swift and transparent investigation into the motorcycle taxi driver’s death, adding he was shocked and disappointed by the excessive actions of security personnel.

Yet under Prabowo’s tenure, there are growing concerns that both the military and police — once immensely powerful under the Suharto regime — are creeping back into public life.

Indonesian stocks tumbled by the most in nearly five months on Monday, weighed down by fears over political instability. The rupiah held steady as the central bank stepped in to prop up the currency, which is viewed as a barometer for confidence in Southeast Asia’s largest economy.

But that steadiness may not last. The root of Indonesia’s problems is structural, embedded in the unfulfilled promises of the democratic reform movement of 1998.

Known as the Reformasi campaign, it was meant to dismantle Suharto’s authoritarian system and decentralize power. He’d ruled the archipelago for 32 years, crushing political dissent and enriching his family and cronies.

The Asian Financial Crisis in 1997 fueled widespread anger with Suharto’s rule. I grew up under his regime and saw how citizens’ dissatisfaction turned into public rage. Suharto was forced to step down the following year after mass protests. The end of his presidency was intended to pave the way for a new system of governance — one that would deliver accountability to its citizens.

For a time, progress seemed possible. Indonesia is now the world’s third-most populous and one of the region’s most dynamic democracies (although that speaks more to Southeast Asia’s weaknesses than Indonesia’s strengths.)

But the old system never completely disappeared. Instead it was rebranded for the modern age. Many of the grievances reformists once raised about the Suharto-era — entrenched corruption, concentration of political power and deep inequality — are prevalent today. Politicians and business tycoons from the previous era still have clout, through dynastic parties, family owned businesses and patronage networks.

Prabowo himself is an illustration of that. He is Suharto’s former son-in-law and an ex-general accused of past human rights abuses (which he denies.) The president is seen as detached from ordinary people’s struggles and his perceived elitism has also deepened public resentment.

That anger was stoked further when lawmakers mocked the protests, with one legislator calling those demanding the dissolution of parliament "the dumbest people in the world.” This arrogance is part of the problem.

Now is the time for Prabowo and his government to display some humility to assuage citizens’ concerns. The president has made a good first move by rolling back some perks and benefits. Suspending or disciplining parliamentarians who use insensitive language would also be prudent, while addressing police brutality and military over-reach would help to reassure a worried public.

Democracy was meant to bring more equitable growth. While it’s true that extreme poverty has fallen, inequality has also worsened. Indonesia’s Gini coefficient — a standard measure of inequality — rose to 0.381 in September 2024, among the highest in Asia.

The situation in urban areas is even more stark. The soaring unemployment rate among youth is giving rise to discontent. In a recent study by the ISEAS Yusof-Ishak Institute, almost 72.4% of respondents said it was difficult to find their preferred job, the highest rate among the six Southeast Asian nations surveyed.

The gap between what democracy was intended to deliver and the reality becomes more salient when economic conditions change, notes Eve Warburton, director of the Australian National University’s Indonesia Institute. Moments of fiscal strain expose how precarious life is for the average Indonesian citizen. Instead of heeding voters’ demands, the government’s decision to line the pockets of parliamentarians appears badly out of touch.

Elected officials have also failed to play their checks-and-balances role. Successful candidates are often wealthy or well-connected, tapping into entrenched elite networks to secure nominations and win elections. This further ingrains a culture of corruption.

The protests on the streets aren’t just about money. They represent a growing disillusionment with democracy. Once that cynicism is normalized, rebuilding trust in the system of governance Indonesians fought for all those years ago may be impossible.