Jokowi: The Smiling Face of a Rotten Regime

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, the sly French statesman, once said there’s something worse than slander: the truth.

And in late 2024, a painful truth burst onto the Indonesian public like a slap in the face: their beloved former president, Joko Widodo—Jokowi—was shortlisted for the title of world’s most corrupt leader by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP).

Yes, the poster boy of “clean governance” now rubs shoulders with the likes of Kenya’s William Ruto, Nigeria’s Bola Tinubu, Bangladesh’s Hasina, and Syria’s blood-soaked dictator Bashar al-Assad. A rogue’s gallery, and Jokowi fits right in. 

And in late 2024, a painful truth burst onto the Indonesian public like a slap in the face: their beloved former president, Joko Widodo—Jokowi—was shortlisted for the title of world’s most corrupt leader by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP).

For West Papuans, though? Please. No one in West Papua was surprised. How could they be? They’ve been living under Jakarta’s brutal boot since 1963. Jokowi was just another polished shoe crushing them.

Back in 2015, Papuan journalist Victor Mambor interviewed Jokowi in Abepura prison. His conclusion? Jokowi didn’t know squat about Papua. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Worse: the so-called “hope of the nation” couldn’t even lead his own people. But once the oligarchs came knocking, Jokowi found his true calling—not as a reformer, but as a loyal servant to Indonesia’s ruling class. He didn’t want to lead. He wanted to build a dynasty. And the road to that throne? Paved with stolen land, silenced voices, and Papuan blood.

Let’s talk about those selfies, shall we?

Markus Haluk of the ULMWP rightly mocked Jokowi’s “two dozen visits” to West Papua as nothing more than photo ops. While the president grinned for the camera, military convoys rolled in, villages burned, and children disappeared. But hey, at least Jakarta got some nice PR shots.

Meanwhile, Victor Yeimo of the KNPB called it what it was: a blood harvest. Papuans were sacrificed—not metaphorically, but literally—so a clique of fat, corrupt bureaucrats in Jakarta could dine, build empires, and pretend they run a democracy.

The late Filep Karma, may his courage be remembered, called Jokowi a tyrant. Not hyperbole—just facts. Six thousand Papuans arrested for daring to speak, sing, or raise a flag under his “democratic” rule.

And Ambrosius Mulait, another former political prisoner, went even further: he labeled Jokowi a con artist, a war criminal who orchestrated the forced displacement of over 78,000 Papuans. Their crime? Existing on land Jakarta wanted.

Let’s not sugarcoat this. Jokowi’s presidency wasn’t a misstep. It was a machine—oil-slick, polished, media-friendly—that enabled one of the most disgraceful plunders of indigenous land and lives in modern Southeast Asia. Under his smiling gaze, the oligarchy didn’t just thrive. It metastasized. Customary Papuan lands? Looted. Forests? Leveled. Mountains? Exploded. Rights? Trampled.

Ethics? Please. Legal norms? A joke. Jokowi gave the oligarchs the red carpet and the keys. The rest is silence—unless you’re Papuan. Then it’s screams, gunfire, and exile.

So yes, call him corrupt. Loudly. Relentlessly. But don’t stop there. Remember what this corruption masks: a brutal colonial project, wrapped in batik, marketed as development, and bankrolled with stolen gold and foreign complicity.

This is Indonesia’s shame. And Jokowi? He didn’t just hide it. He built his legacy on top of it.