Published at
01 Sep, 2025
Author
Gripastudio
Unrest is never just noise on the streets — it’s the echo of deeper struggles. From a retiree’s quiet seat, a whisper on patience, perspective, and the strength of Indonesians to stay grounded in love.
I watch the news differently now. As a retiree, I no longer rush through mornings. The coffee is slower, the silence longer. But that silence often gets pierced — by headlines of unrest in our major cities.
Crowds clashing. Streets burning. Voices rising. And I feel that old ache: Haven’t we been here before?
I’ve seen unrest in my lifetime — moments when Indonesia shook, when the future felt uncertain. It never happens out of nowhere. Unrest is rarely just about one trigger. It’s always a knot — of social struggles, political tensions, economic pressures, and human frustrations that finally spill over.
And yet, behind all the noise, I sense something familiar: people just wanting to be heard. People tired of carrying weight that feels too heavy.
It’s tempting to point at one reason. To say: “It’s political.” “It’s economic.” “It’s social.”
But the truth is — it’s all of them, tangled.
Unrest is rarely clean. It’s messy. Emotional. Complex.
In times like this, there is another danger — not just on the streets, but in our hearts.
The danger of getting carried away. Of letting anger multiply anger. Of scrolling endlessly through social media, not knowing which story is true, which is twisted, which is designed to provoke.
There is wisdom in an old Javanese which feels relevant to this situation:
“Sabar iku ingaran mustikaning laku.” Patience is the jewel of life’s journey.
Patience doesn’t mean indifference. It means we don’t let every headline dictate our emotions. It means we breathe before we share, we pause before we rage, we think before we judge.
In moments like these, fear spreads quickly. I’ve heard of families who quietly chose to leave — to step away from Indonesia for a while, believing safety might be found elsewhere.
I don’t judge them. Fear is human. But I can’t help but wonder if this, too, is a sign of how fragile our sense of togetherness has become.
So many households live as if alone — self-sufficient, disconnected, individualistic. And when trouble comes, the instinct is to protect only what’s “mine,” rather than to lean on what’s “ours.”
But history shows: Indonesians have always endured by standing as community, not as isolated islands. Fear isolates. But courage — the quiet kind — grows stronger when shared.
The truth is, most Indonesians are not in the protests. We are not in the front lines. We are not making political deals or drafting economic policies.
But we are here. And how we respond — in our homes, in our communities, in our conversations — matters.
And let’s be clear: It’s not that we don’t care. We do care — deeply. We love this nation, and all its people, too much to let anger or division consume us.
So what can we do?
Indonesia has trembled before. And yet, each time, it has found its way back to balance.
So if the streets feel uncertain now, let’s not add fear to fear, nor anger to anger.
Let’s hold on to patience. Let’s believe in one another. Let’s remember that most of us — the quiet majority — want the same thing: a country that is safe, fair, and steady.
Unrest comes and goes. But the spirit of Indonesians — resilient, patient, enduring — remains.
And if we carry that spirit forward, then yes — all will be okay, soon. Trust me.
Radio is paused