Searching Indonesia on TikTok once yielded viral videos of an 11-year-old kid racing boats and “aura-farming”. Now, the same search is instead met with clips of burning buildings, demands to the government, and the “Jolly Roger” flag from the 1997 Japanese manga and anime One Piece. These two jarringly different snapshots have one thing in common: their display of how Generation Z consumes and spreads information, both in times of peace and in times of conflict.
The “For You Page” Refresh
In late August 2025, Instagram and other social media sites were taken over by grassroots documentation of fervent protests that wracked Indonesia for five days. The public outrage demonstrated in clips, photos, and captions was triggered by a new housing allowance for members of Parliament. Once the outcry against this policy ignited into political demonstrations, however, it quickly met an abundance of other issues related to economic inequality. By Friday, protests fanned into violent riots, airing both nascent and festered grievances.
“The public anger has stemmed from a very long-term economic questions [sic.] and these events are just a catalyst,” says Indonesian university student Jorgiana Augustine.
The parliamentary housing allowance sparked calls for justice against #corruption primarily because of its magnitude: each lawmaker would receive a monthly stipend of 50 million Rp ($3,067 USD), or over 20 times the minimum wage in some parts of Indonesia. However, protests quickly ballooned into larger cries against the administration’s policies and wider corruption, especially after an uninvolved rideshare driver was run over by an armored police vehicle on August 28. The driver, a 21 year old named Affan Kurniawan, became a tragically innocent martyr to demonstrators facing off against policemen armed with tear gas and rubber bullets. Many of the protesting youth related to him, with one X user writing, “He’s 21 yo / It could have been me /It could have been any of us / #justiceforaffan.” The mutual escalation continued throughout the next few days, with televised protesters eventually storming and looting the houses of various government officials and setting fire to a parliament building in South Sulawesi, killing three.
During this time, TikTok notably suspended its live feature for a “few days” as protests raged on to “keep TikTok a safe and civil space.” However, this further unsettled protesters. “A demonstration is the right of citizens. […] When the public records and broadcasts LIVE, it feels like the most powerful way to ensure there is no arbitrariness [abuse of power] from the authorities,” says Indonesian journalist Najwa Shihab. This follows the argument that a reduction in media bias requires an increase in sample size. Where articles, news broadcasts, and press conferences are frequently altered and framed to fit a particular image, grassroots coverage in the manner of livestreaming that platforms like TikTok enable allows an unparalleled number of perspectives to be published and archived. Those perspectives are then opened to public attention and scrutiny, sparking movements like the massive surge in Black Lives Matter protests following the murder of George Floyd in 2020. Restricting the public’s ability to document these moments through time delay literally reduces the number of eyes monitoring the situation, along with the accountability and safety that accompanies it.
The Latest Reason to Cancel the Government
As demonstrations raged in the streets and demands coalesced online, messaging from the government continued to play a different tune. This housing allowance seemed to be the latest domino in a long line of policies and actions that blatantly ignored Indonesia’s wealth inequality, shrinking middle class, and cost of living crisis.
The prevalence of viral touchpoints strongly contributed to this stark contrast. Around the same time, that aforementioned “aura-farming” boat racer Rayyan Arkan Dikha went viral. Shortly after, Indonesia’s feeds were taken over by another viral moment: lawmakers having an impromptu dance party in the parliament complex. The dancing followed the country’s annual legislative address, where President Prabowo Subianto made his state of the nation speech. Critics argued that the lawmakers’ behavior was tone deaf when many Indonesians are struggling to make a living. In response to this backlash, one lawmaker involved posted another dancing video, with the caption “They think that a salary of 3 million [Rp] per day is a lot”.
Government response to the August protests did not fare much better. President Prabowo Subianto initially directed the Indonesian military and police “to take firm action” when it came to “anarchic actions,” manifesting in the police crackdown that may have contributed to the further escalation of protests. After almost a week of demonstrations, Prabowo then changed course by saying that the House of Representatives had agreed to revoke some lawmakers’ perks and initiating a cabinet shuffle that fired five ministers. Even then, protesters were not immediately placated: the head of All Indonesian Students’ Executives Body, Muzammil Ihsan, told Reuters that cutting lawmakers’ perks was “not enough.” He added, “The government must resolve deep-rooted problems. The anger on the streets is not without cause.”
More personally, Prabowo also visited and paid his respects to Affan Kurniawan’s family, in a move that could be read as “sympathy-sharing.” Equally ambiguous was Prabowo’s decision to grant the family’s wish for a house. While the gift did fulfill their request, that so-called “gift” underscored the harsh realities of the wealth disparities within the country — the house stands as a symbol of the performative compassion of the government and the inequality plaguing the country.
As for other lawmakers, protesters quickly made clear the target of their discontent. Viral parliamentary dancer Eko Patrios saw the apparent consequences of his actions through protesters “damaging and ransacking [his] property in three waves” in a “mob looting” on August 30. Similarly, politician and millionaire Ahmad Sahroni, once known as “Crazy Rich Tanjung Priok,” labeled protesters calling for the dissolution of the Parliament “the dumbest people on Earth.” On August 30, they also stormed, vandalized, and destroyed his house. Further targeted in the ransackings was the home of now-former Finance Minister Sri Mulyani Indrawati. These choices of targets demonstrate the source of the public’s ire, but clips of people carrying luxury clothing, bags, and collectibles out of the lavish houses further serve to highlight the very wealth inequality that sparked the riots in the first place.
The Urban Dictionary of Gen Z Uprisings
Youth have long played a unique role in politics, often employing collective action and grassroots tactics when institutions fail to project their voice. UC Berkeley itself has a long history of collective action and protests related to the Free Speech Movement and the Vietnam War, and Pew Research Center reports from a 2020 survey that roughly four in ten participants of a race-based protest were younger than 30. This may arise from the inherent accessibility of protests: albeit metered by safety concerns, most anyone can take to the streets and make their voices heard. Indonesian youth have also previously spearheaded similar protests to the August 2025 ones, including the #IndonesiaGelap (“Dark Indonesia”) movement opposing President Prabowo Subianto’s policies in March 2025.
Nevertheless, with the rise of the internet, the disconnect between youth and formal political institutions has only grown more prevalent. Social media consistently encourages traceable shifts in the way that young people speak with each other, and their mannerisms deviate from traditional political lexicon at an increasing speed.
In the instance of the August 2025 protests, Prabowo’s response included an impromptu cabinet shuffle and ongoing commitment to a nebulous 8% economic growth goal. Functionally, these actions played it safe, balancing Prabowo’s reputation between both the citizenry and the parliamentary elite. At the same time, these actions strongly follow the norms of institutional language that surround political messaging: statistics, figureheads, and solutions that work firmly within the bounds of the existing system.
This sets quite a strong contrast to the people’s demands that coalesced following the August protests. Dubbed the “17+8 People’s Demands,” the list features 17 short-term demands with a deadline of one week after protests (5 September 2025) and 8 long-term demands with a deadline of one year after protests (31 August 2026). The demands are clear, concise, and easy to repost on various social media platforms. They also focus on transparency and trust-based topics in the aftermath: audits, executive oversight, and fundamental police reform, which seem much less central to the government’s own response to the demonstrations.
In this manner, both the content and the manner of messaging shows a clear disconnect between protesters and the administration: one is disruptive, colorful, and focused on remedying the damages done during protests; the other speaks to the wider demographics of the country, finding a watered-down compromise between the interests of the voters and the ruling class that seems to manage dissatisfying everyone.
The unique messaging of Gen Z is most defined by online trends, moments, and norms. Its resulting language and focus on viral moments can frequently be felt in both political and apolitical moments. Furthermore, this Gen Z identity defines an in-group, and as a result, an out-group as well. Any figures or groups that are unable to understand or abide by the norms of the youth very clearly demonstrate that they are not one of them — instead, they are often associated with the contrasting institutional elite.
The One Piece Jolly Roger flag is a prime example of Gen Z-centered political messaging. For one, it invites participation of other in-group members through an engaging, meme-able reference. One Piece is a consistently massive franchise with a resultantly high level of generational awareness; however, where the Jolly Roger flag shines is its ease of understanding. While maintaining the defining voice of Gen Z — to the point that non-members of its in-group would hesitate to interpret or raise the flag themselves — it acts as a language-less, nationality-less, re-interpretable flag with a simple message behind it: the fight of a relatable group of rag-tag bandits against a draconian regime. Often, such a symbol “can help elevate what the people are trying to say without having to say it word for word,” Oklahoma State University media and communications professor Nuurrianti Jalli tells CNN.
This has contributed to its ability to transcend borders as well, with similar Gen Z-led protests wielding the flag in the Philippines, Paris, and Nepal. This is not a symbol of Indonesian youth; it is one of global Gen Z and its distinct identity: in the attitude of unrest, the use of digital systems to spread information, and frankly, the memes.
In Indonesia specifically, raising the Jolly Roger also has an extra layer of significance arising from President Prabowo’s calls for citizens to raise the country’s flag on August 17, Indonesia’s Independence Day. Using the Jolly Roger instead acts as a “symbol that we love this country, but don’t completely agree with its policies,” some residents say.
The political out-group responded to this alternate flag as expected: with hostility apparently borne from a lack of understanding. Deputy House Speaker Sufmi Dasco Ahmad called the flag “a coordinated attempt to divide the nation,” and lawmaker Firman Soebagyo “suggested that displaying these flags could even amount to treason,” writes BBC. These reactions may serve to further galvanize the viewpoints of the very people raising the Jolly Roger. The protagonist of a TV show meant to appeal to Gen Z provides many more points of relatability than seasoned politicians who negatively respond to their civil disobedience and play a role in authorizing the use of nonlethal force against them. “By treating a cartoon flag as a threat to national security, they have inadvertently validated the entire premise of the protest,” Medium netizen Farhan Rizqullah writes,
Lurking in the Source Code
The trends in Gen Z’s messaging and use of digital platforms display an overarching mistrust in institutions. Those who participate, though sometimes disproportionately young and marginalized, are not unequivocally disenfranchised from traditional political representation. Rather, the use of generational inside jokes and digital platforms is a more conscious choice, potentially stemming from their in-group advantages and widespread accessibility.
However, the drawbacks of these platforms for political uses are quickly making themselves apparent. After Nepal’s government collapsed mere weeks after the protests in Indonesia, protesting Gen Z chose a new prime minister over the messaging platform Discord. One participant in this impromptu election told the New York Times that discussions were disorganized, prone to infiltration, trolling, and general, well, discord. Social media and messaging platforms were never intended for the level of organization political structures demand, and as a result, they do not possess the infrastructure necessary for such decisions and governance. While the use of these platforms stems precisely from their accessibility, the unfiltered flood of opinions that inevitably results yields its own drawbacks.
Furthermore, social media is an unstable and unregulated forum for politics. Preceding its protests, Nepal saw a full social media ban; in Indonesia’s case, TikTok suspended its live feature during protests. These actions raise important questions about free speech versus responsible moderation of digital media. Social media sites like Instagram and X lack stringent requirements for many of the traditional news sites’ guardrails, like real names, reputable facts, and long-form content that accommodates nuance. In some sense, the short-form nature of such sites may be what aids in their popularity and accessibility.
Even so, when digital platforms are used to disseminate critical information during times of unrest, their continued accessibility is paramount. As a result, the ability of developers and corporations to control both the flow and angle of information through complex algorithms, feature bans, and various other measures presents an outsize risk that is met with very few legal checks and balances.
Gen Z’s relationship with social media is an essential facet to consider in the generation’s ongoing development of its political voice. Media of all forms are an extremely central aspect of shared culture, and the internet continues to play an increasingly important role in young people’s lives. While this can be used as a powerful equalizer — giving voices to the voiceless and transcending borders through increasingly mutually understood symbols — the effect of social media’s corporate roots is equally important to consider in its effect on political messaging.
Featured Image Source: X
