Gen Z are playing an important role, but most protests in Indonesia are quite intergenerational. Gen Z are however finding new ways of protesting and breaking down silos. Traditionally, activists stayed in their own bubbles. Environmental activists talked only to environmental activists, gender activists to gender activists and so on. Young people have changed that dynamic. They’ve pushed people to go to protests, even if they didn’t have a long history of activism or belong to a movement. They’ve convinced them to take to the streets because they care about their country.

And they come as they are. Working people show up after their shifts. K-pop fans bring their lightsticks. Anime communities carry One Piece flags. These symbols matter, not only as expressions of identity, but as a kind of shield. When you are carrying a manga flag, the government can’t easily accuse you of being a dangerous activist. It gives people cover while they take action.

It’s been central, not just for organising, but for informing people, keeping them engaged and giving those who can’t attend protests a way to participate and get involved.

Last year, a mining company began extracting resources from Raja Ampat, a place Indonesians dream of visiting. Greenpeace and other civil society organisations created an Instagram template that people could use. Over a million people used it. Two weeks later, the government banned four out of five companies from operating there. That is the power of connecting a political issue to people’s everyday lives and dreams.

Social media has also helped unify people visually. Last year’s protests had a pink and green colour scheme: pink for an older woman photographed at a demonstration wearing a pink hijab and green for Affan Kurniawan. Those symbols spread rapidly and unified people across Indonesia. In protests against the government’s attempt to raise VAT, people also showed that same power of visual solidarity, mobilising a wave of ‘blue resistance’.

There have been real victories. When the government announced a VAT increase in January 2025, people took to the streets and the law was suspended. The Raja Ampat campaign got mining companies removed from that protected area. And the August 2025 protests forced the government to scrap the lawmakers’ housing allowance. These are tangible outcomes that came directly from collective action.

But perhaps the most important victory is harder to measure: more people than ever are informed and engaged. They are attending public discussions, joining movements and thinking critically about democracy.

Still, the hardest challenge is sustaining momentum long enough to achieve structural change. Indonesian protests tend to rise quickly and fall just as fast. Public fatigue sets in, the government spreads misinformation and fragmentation between activists, academics and left-wing groups weakens the pressure. That internal division is what we most need to overcome. The more inclusive and intersectional the movement, the harder it is for the government to wear it down.

The most direct impact has been digital repression. In my organisation, I am the public contact for our regular discussions. Right before one discussion on military rule in Indonesia, my WhatsApp was locked and I couldn’t access it for two days. I later found out that the SIM provider I used had a history of alleged surveillance in cases involving activists and was linked to government-affiliated companies. I decided to switch providers.

We have also faced harassment during online events, and threats in the streets with people we didn’t know approaching us to say we were breaking the law. After the August 2025 protests, a member of parliament publicly dismissed young protesters as people who ‘don’t know anything about politics’. It was a deliberate attempt to stigmatise us, and it affected our morale. The police also detained many of our friends, which hit us hard. The digital, legal and psychological repression took a real toll on us.

We are aware that many other activists have faced far worse, including death threats, attacks on their loved ones and physical violence. What we went through is part of a broader pattern of intimidation, and acknowledging it has strengthened our solidarity with those who continue to resist despite much greater risks.

Right now, people are afraid. Over 500 people were detained during last year’s protests and many cases are still open. So we have shifted to care work and education. We go to universities to explain people’s rights and encourage students to become active citizens, not only to understand democracy, but to monitor power, hold institutions accountable and prepare communities to take informed action in the next electoral cycle.

The goal is to create a critical mass. Research suggests that if at least 10 per cent of a population is mobilised around a cause, change becomes possible. We are not there yet, but we are working toward it brick by brick.

We believe there are many ways to get involved, even if they are small and gradual. Some people start by joining public education spaces, discussing issues with friends or organising within their own communities. These small steps can create a ripple effect. Our role is to make sure that channels for participation remain safe, accessible and open to everyone.

There’s a woman I met while working as a journalist in my early career. Her name is Marsinah. She lost her son in 1998. He was a doctor helping wounded protesters when the military shot him. That was over 25 years ago but she still takes part in the weekly vigil for victims of human rights violations every Thursday. She has never missed one.

Meeting her changed me. It made the risk feel real and very close. I thought about my mother and my future. But it also showed me what resilience looks like across generations.

I want Indonesia to be a liveable country, where people can protest without fear of violence or death, and where the government is accountable to its people. We may not see that ourselves, but someone will look back and see the building that all of this resilience made possible. That is what I hold onto.