Drivin’ the getaway car

We were flyin’, but we’d never get far

Taylor Swift’s Getaway Car is a song about high-speed betrayals, thrilling escapes, and the eventual realization that running from one mess often leads to another. It’s a song of choices that feels exhilarating at first—until you realize the road leads to nowhere. If there’s a song that best describes the socio-political condition of Indonesia under Prabowo Subianto’s presidency, this might be it.

Since taking office, Prabowo’s government has moved swiftly, reshaping policies, consolidating power, and making bold budgetary decisions. A unique paradox marks his leadership: while Indonesia witnesses growing civil society protests against military influence in governance, education budget cuts, and creeping authoritarianism, there remains a silent majority that supports his administration. Much like the song’s protagonist, who realizes too late that they were part of a doomed ride, Indonesia finds itself on a high-speed political journey with no clear exit strategy.

This paradox stems from diverging perceptions of stability and progress. On one hand, student groups, academics, and activists are raising alarms over increasing state control and the erosion of democratic freedoms. The return of military figures to civilian positions is seen as a step backward, echoing the days before Reformasi, when the military wielded extensive political and economic power. Education cuts have fueled anger among the youth, who see them as a sign of misplaced priorities. Meanwhile, concerns over media restrictions and the suppression of dissent paint a picture of creeping authoritarianism.

On the other hand, Prabowo’s supporters—primarily from rural communities, the working class, and nationalist circles—view his leadership as a necessary counterbalance to instability. To them, military governance represents discipline, order, and strength. Programs like free school meals, ambitious infrastructure projects, and nationalist rhetoric reinforce the image of a strong and protective leader. The silent majority, therefore, remains largely content, believing that protests are exaggerated or instigated by elites who fail to understand the realities of common citizens.

However, as history has shown, such dynamics rarely remain static. Public patience can wane as economic pressures mount, and once-loyal supporters can become disillusioned when promises fail to materialize. The question remains: Will this silent majority continue to ride along, or will they eventually recognize that they, too, are passengers in a political getaway car heading toward an uncertain destination?

The illusion of a promising start

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes

I struck a match and blew your mind

But I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t see it

In the song, Swift describes a relationship that begins with a thrilling, rebellious escape—only for things to spiral out of control. Prabowo’s presidency mirrors this, starting with high public enthusiasm. He promised stability, security, and economic transformation, particularly in defense and infrastructure.

His high hopes, particularly with his promises of economic transformation, national security, and military professionalism, offer a promising future for Indonesia. But with these promises came drastic moves. His administration has aggressively expanded the role of the military in civilian governance, reminiscent of Indonesia’s Suharto-era “dual function” (Dwifungsi) doctrine. The passing of a law allowing active military officers to take civilian posts marks a fundamental shift away from the democratic reforms of Reformasi, Indonesia’s post-1998 transition to democracy. Critics argue that this undermines civilian oversight and could open the door to unchecked military influence. Much like the song’s theme—where the excitement of an escape fades into inevitable disillusionment—the government’s bold moves (e.g., militarization of civilian roles, budget reallocations) may initially seem strategic but risk long-term consequences.

When the civil society hits the brakes…

We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde

Until I switched to the other side, to the other side

It’s no surprise I turned you in

‘Cause us traitors never win

Indonesia’s streets have not been quiet. Large-scale protests—most notably the “Dark Indonesia” movement led by students and educators—have erupted in response to Prabowo’s sweeping budget reallocations. With education and public works taking a hit to fund other priorities, including military spending and nationalistic programs, young Indonesians have voiced strong opposition, with much of the protest activity shifting to digital platforms such as social media (mostly Instagram and X) and online petitions. This trend reflects both the increasing restrictions on physical demonstrations and the changing nature of activism in a digitally connected era. While digital protests allow for wider participation and international awareness, their effectiveness is debated.

The silent majority, on the other hand, often less engaged in online discourse, may remain indifferent or even skeptical, viewing these protests as disconnected from their immediate concerns. The government’s response? A mix of crackdowns and attempts to discredit activists, reminiscent of past authoritarian tactics. In Papua, activists continue to be arrested for challenging military actions, while press freedom faces subtle yet significant restrictions. Civil society movements have raised concerns that the space for democratic expression is shrinking. The more the government tightens its grip, the more resistance builds.

The “silent majority”

And a circus ain’t a love story, and now we’re both sorry

Yet, despite the vocal opposition, Prabowo still enjoys broad support, particularly from rural communities, working-class citizens, and nationalist groups who see him as a stabilizing force. His appeal is rooted in a blend of strongman leadership, military discipline, and populist economic programs such as free school meals. Additionally, state-controlled media and nationalist rhetoric have played a significant role in shaping public perception, reinforcing his image as a protector of Indonesian sovereignty and progress. Many in this silent majority remain skeptical of digital protests, viewing them as disconnected from their daily struggles and driven by urban elites. Particularly among working-class Indonesians and rural communities. This is the “silent majority” who see his leadership as a promise of stability in an increasingly uncertain world. Much like the song’s protagonist, who is swept up in the thrill of the escape, many of Prabowo’s supporters believe they are on the right path—until reality catches up.

Populist policies like free school meals resonate deeply with this demographic. The government has skillfully framed its actions as necessary for national progress, and state-controlled narratives help reinforce this belief. But as inflation rises, budget cuts affect essential services, and democratic spaces shrink, will the silent majority start feeling like they’ve been taken for a ride?

No way out

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed

We never had a shotgun shot in the dark

Indonesia’s governance under Prabowo faces a potential turning point: Will it continue down a path of securitization and centralized power, or will opposition forces grow strong enough to change course? The song’s theme of inevitable downfall mirrors the uncertainty of how sustainable Prabowo’s approach will be in the long run. History suggests that unchecked control, especially when met with rising discontent, rarely ends smoothly. While the administration appears to be in control, the pushback from civil society and increasing economic pressures may eventually force a reckoning. Just like the song’s characters, who think they are free but are actually heading toward their downfall, the government’s trajectory might lead to a moment where the realities of governance catch up, forcing either reform or crisis.

Just as Getaway Car ends with betrayal and abandonment, the long-term trajectory of Prabowo’s governance remains uncertain. Will Indonesia continue down this road, or will the silent majority eventually slam the brakes?

One thing is certain: The ride is far from over. And in politics, as in Swift’s lyrics, high-speed escapes often lead straight into another trap.

Short biography

Tunggul Wicaksono is a Research Manager at ASEAN Studies Center, Universitas Gadjah Mada. He can be reached through e-mail at tunggulwicaksono@ugm.ac.id.