Introduction

In January 2026, the Indonesian government announced that the country had achieved rice self-sufficiency, with national production exceeding domestic consumption and no imports required for public needs.

President Prabowo Subianto framed the achievement as a strategic win and urged that the momentum be extended to other food commodities.

This domestic milestone somehow coincided with a broader global reassessment of how food is produced and sustained under growing ecological and geopolitical pressures. In the 179th FAO council meeting held on 1-5 December 2025, member states released FAO’s new flagship publication entitled “The State of the World’s Land and Water Resources for Food and Agriculture 2025” (SOLAW 2025).

The global conversation captured in this literature is highly relevant for Indonesia. Despite being endowed with vast natural resources, Indonesia faces mounting pressures on its land and water systems. While rice self-sufficiency target is achieved, Indonesia’s land resources are undergoing rapid degradation.

Multiple Pressures

Although the deforestation rate has decreased in the last 10 years, the rate at which Indonesia’s forests are disappearing is still alarming, with 175,400 hectares lost in 2024 alone. In addition, urban expansion is also shrinking agricultural land, particularly on Ja

Peatland degradation adds another layer of problem. Drained peatland areas induce vulnerability to Indon

Beyond ecological stress, the challenges are worsened by fragmented governance. Such institutional silos often manifest in overlapping land permits, where large-scale industrial concessions frequently clash with protected forest areas or smallholder farmlands. The sl

Furthermore, the lack of transparency in top-down initiatives like the Food Estate programme highlights a disconnect between central production targets and community-based food systems.

The consequences are visible on the ground—agrarian conflicts persist across Indonesia. Despite the enactment of Undang-Undang Pokok Agraria Tahun 1960 (Basic Agrarian Law 1960), the reality has moved in the opposite direction compared to the initial aims, which is to secure justice for farmers. Data shows that 17.25 million farming families control less than 0.5 hectares, with many earning barely Rp50,000 per day.

These multiple layers of pressure illustrate why high production alone is not sufficient to secure Indonesia’s food future. Achieving self-sufficiency by increasing production – if done despite land degradation, governance fragmentation or social exclusion – risks undermining the very systems that sustain agriculture.

This is where the FAO’s call to “produce more and better” in SOLAW 2025 becomes relevant for Indonesia.

Tech for the Modern Field

Indonesia cannot rely on land expansion to meet future food needs. The only viable path forward is to increase productivity from existing land through innovation. In this vein, Indonesia should leverage the momentum provided by FAO to adopt precision agriculture more rigorously.

The practice of precision agriculture allows farmers to apply fertilisers, pesticides, and water only where and when they are needed. In the process, it reduces input costs, prevents soil degradation and minimises the risk of water pollution. Laboratory tests, thus, play an important role in expanding this practice.

Precision agriculture also means tailoring Indonesia’s diverse landscapes to climate-smart farming needs. In drought-prone areas, for instance, this means the utilisation of water-saving technologies such as drip irrigation or rainwater harvesting. In flood-prone regions, meanwhile, it relates to involving the raised-bed farming method or adaptive crop varieties.

Thus, accurate and integrated digital soil and water maps, information on soil nutrients, moisture le

One Map, One Nation: The Data Imperative

Currently, several ministries have developed their own spatial datasets. Different scales, boundaries and definitions often lead to mismatched maps, administrative disputes, and inconsistent planning decisions. Therefore, it is imperative that the government come up with a unified national database that integrates land, soil, and water information across ministries and levels of government.

A national integrated database would allow ministries, provincial governments and local authorities to work from a single source of information, not multiple ones that confuse or contradict each other. This integrated database would help identify priority areas for agricultural intensification. In addition, it ensures that food production does not encroach on critical ecosystems, because land-use decisions would be based on clear, harmonised and scientifically validated spatial information.

Integrating Crops and Livestock

Once precision in input use and data systems is established, Indonesia can move toward a more circular agricultural model. By recycling nutrients locally, farmers can reduce dependency on external inputs while improving soil health.

Integrated crop-livestock systems also diversify income sources and increase resilience to climate and market shocks. These integrated systems are particularly relevant for Indonesia—when managed carefully, such systems can raise productivity per hectare without expanding farmland while maintaining ecological functions.

In mixed crop-cattle systems, for example, manure from cattle can be returned to maize, rice or forage fields, reducing fertiliser costs while improving soil structure as well as water-holding capacity.

In oil palm or other perennial crop systems, controlled and managed cattle grazing can utilise undergrowth vegetation, returning nutrients to the soil through manure deposition.

Rice-duck integration is another similar system that offer the same benefits. Ducks help control pests and weeds, thus decreasing the need for chemical pesticide. Duck excreta also enrich paddy soils. On the other side, rice farmers gain an additional source of protein and income from ducks and duck eggs.

By recycling nutrients locally, farmers can reduce dependency on external inputs while improving soil health and nutrient balance. Integrated crop-livestock systems also diversify income sources and increase resilience, as farmers are not dependent on a single commodity.

Policy and Incentives

The transition toward “producing b

Beyond acce

For small farmers, the main barriers are not a lack of willingness to innovate but limited access to capital, data and technical infrastructure. Thus, public investment must be revitalised not only to launch new technology but also to strengthen services that help farmers interpret data, adapt practices to local conditions and organise collectively.

This is where the private sector can play a complementary role. Agritech firms can accelerate the deployment of precision tools and other related technologies. In this scenario, public-private partnerships are necessary.

However, these public-private partnerships must be carefully designed. Farmers must be involved in the decision-making process rather than playing the role of passive recipients. This way, farmers will develop a sense of ownership over the new agricultural practices explored above.

Indonesia’s rice self-sufficiency in 2025 is an important achievement, but it should not be understood as the final measure of food security success. Producing more rice alone does not guarantee resilience if the gains are achieved through degrading land and water resources. The message from SOLAW 2025 is also clear in that the world’s food challenges will be solved not by expanding land, but by managing what we already have. In other words, there is a need to be better, smarter and fairer in our agricultural practices. This is the momentum for Indonesia to turn this insight into policy to unlock its land potential and safeguard its food future.

Introduction

Fringe and absurd phrases such as “Tralalero Talala” and “Bombardino Crocodilo” have evolved into a widespread cultural phenomenon that defines our online and offline conversations these days.

Once dismissed as trivial digital distractions, these AI-generated memes now echo beyond social media, manifesting in public spaces, such as children chanting “tung tung tung tung sahur” in the streets.

This phenomenon, now infamously referred to as “brain rot”, is no longer confined to obscure online communities. It has begun infiltrating corporate marketing strategies, populist political discourse and a variety of hybrid media formats that defy traditional categorisation.

Whether for profit, parody or sheer chaos, one thing is clear: brain rot keeps evolving. But were we too quick to dismiss it as harmless digital noise? Is there purpose buried in the nonsense—or are we ignoring deeper concerns that may demand serious attention?

A Recipe for Brain Rot

One may reasonably ask: what exactly constitutes a brain rot content? Is it simply a subcategory of memes, or does it represent a distinct phenomenon?

While not all memes qualify as brain rot, all brain rot content draws heavily from the meme culture. The distinction lies in intent and coherence. Traditional memes, even those rooted in absurdity, typically reference identifiable subjects such as politics, pop culture or shared social narratives. They conveyed meaning, whether through satire, commentary or inside jokes.

In contrast, brain rot content deliberately rejects coherence. It retains the familiar structure of meme culture (short, highly visual and often absurd) but discards narrative, context, or communicative intent.

What remains is a disjointed stream of stimuli masquerading as content: “Skibidi Toilet”, “Sigma Grindset” and “Minecraft Parkour Overlays”, among others. These are not parodies nor critiques; they are algorithmically assembled hallucinations, optimised for stimulation rather than expression.

Brain rot content would typically consist of the following elements. First, it must be extremely short to allow maximum compression of attention, leaving zero space for nuance. Second, it needs to be loopable, engineered for infinite scrolling and minimal cognitive interruption. Third, it leans on AI tools to generate chaotic visuals and uncanny audio that feel both surreal and familiar. Finally, its evolution is shaped by algorithmic preferences that prioritise engagement over substance.

The Birth of Brain Rot

In a world where attention is the currency and information flows faster than thought, content is designed for frictionless consumption.

The trend arguably began with Vine’s launch in 2013, which marked the advent of ultra-short video formats. Vine’s six-second videos birthed a generation of micro-skits and visual gags—from “Road work ahead… uh yeah, I sure hope it does” to surreal edits like “Fre Sha Voca Do.”

This format expanded as YouTube and Instagram adopted short-form video through Rewind compilations and Stories, respectively.

While the absurdity remained playful, content during this phase still favoured emotional resonance and creative iteration. Viral trends such as the “In My Feelings” dance challenge or the now-dated “Harlem Shake” reflected an era where digital virality retained some communicative integrity.

TikTok (Douyin in China), however, transformed the landscape entirely.

Originally conceived as a lip-syncing platform, TikTok evolved into a highly optimised environment for algorithm-driven content proliferation. Its For You Page (FYP) – equipped with continuous scrolling, looping sounds and auto-captioning – created fertile ground for brain rot to thrive. What began as innocuous lip-syncs and filtered pet videos quickly devolved into auto-generated toilet animations and clips of SpongeBob screaming political slogans like “Hidup Jokowi” (long live Jokowi).

Brain rot thrives in these spaces because it demands low cognitive investment. One does not need to understand what they are watching; they just need to feel it. Confusion is no longer a byproduct; it is the entertainment itself.

Brain Rot w

Since the pandemic, memes have become an emotional currency during challenging times. As psychologist Pamela Rutledge observed, individuals turn to memes as a coping mechanism, using humour to impose structure on chaos and render collective anxieties more manageable.

When the Ukraine conflict sparked online panic about World War III, memes about being “drafted” flooded timelines. Beneath the absurdity was genuine fear, masked in irony. These moments of “brain rot” were more than mere jokes; they were collective therapy sessions in digital form.

Furthermore, beyond emotional relief, brain rot memes have taken on political life. What began as “shitposting”(posting deliberately provocative or off-topic comments on social media) has evolved into a digital language of resistance and satire.

Memes now serve as low-barrier, high-impact political tools—mobilising the disengaged, mocking the powerful and democratising dissent. The rise of absurdist remixes like “Aniesini Gusini” or “Fufubaba Fufufini” illustrates how absurdist humour can distort reality just enough to render it more bearable and, paradoxically, more truthful than official rhetoric.

Among the epistemic community, we are witnessing an era of transformation from Word to PDF to PDF to brain rot. A new content format wherein dense textual material (academic papers, Reddit analyses or policy briefs) is repackaged as narrated TikTok content layered over hyperstimulating visuals like Minecraft Parkour or Subway Surfers.

While these creations may appear chaotic or trivial, they represent a nascent form of multi-sensory learning. By combining motion, narration and algorithmically optimised pacing, such content enhances engagement and may, in fact, support retention.

Some educators have begun experimenting with these methods, integrating split-screen presentations in the classroom, with instructional content layered over mobile gameplay footage. The approach may seem absurd on its face, but early anecdotal evidence suggests it may also be effective, particularly for digitally native learners accustomed to high-stimulus environments.

The Real Price

The harmful effects of brain rot content begin with a fundamental reality: the Internet is endless. Unlike traditional addictions, screen dependency thrives on a limitless stream of stimuli—scrolling, swiping and streaming mechanisms intentionally designed to trigger dopamine release.

The result is compulsive media consumption that closely mirrors the behavioural patterns of substance abuse, with consequences that are increasingly comparable in severity.

These consequences are not confined to individual well-being. As attention spans wither and cognitive functions slow, we are seeing a silent erosion of mental agility across age groups. Overexposure to short-form content can physically reshape the brain. One study found that students addicted to online videos showed increased grey m

This trend has direct implications for both public health and education systems. Excessive consumption of algorithmically curated content disrupts sleep cycles, encourages sedentary behaviour and negatively affects nutrition, all of which impair neurocognitive development.

Deficiencies in essential nutrients such as vitamins B12 and D2, often exacerbated by poor dietary habits linked to screen overuse, have been associated with cognitive decline.In more severe cases, prolonged screen addiction has been correlated with elevated risks of depression, neurodegenerative conditions and substance abuse, particularly among individuals facing social isolation.

The societal toll is also significant. As face-to-face interactions decline, so does emotional resilience. I

What appears as harmless digital entertainment may in fact be degrading our collective capacity to think critically, engage empathetically and sustain meaningful relationships.

Fame and the Monetisation of Stupidity

The Internet is no longer a place for cat and dog videos. It is a marketplace where stupidity sells. From cinnamon challenges to Tide Pods, people have long risked their safety for a shot at fleeting fame.

What exacerbates this behaviour is not merely the presence of social media platforms but their active facilitation of such content. Engagement-driven algorithms are designed to amplify the provocative, the outrageous and the extreme. Shock value is not incidental; it is algorithmically optimised.

Brain rot is nothing out of ordinary internet content, working exactly as intended. The more ridiculous the video, the more likely it is to go viral. The more viral it goes, the more money it makes.

Sludge content (the overstimulating clips pairing Subway Surfers with Reddit stories) illustrates how overstimulation is strategically employed to maximise attention retention. These tactics are now replicable, with entire tutorial ecosystems dedicated to teaching creators how to produce and profit from such content.

All the absurdity that comes along with brain rot is not merely a social conundrum; it is also an economic one. Platforms such as TikTok and YouTube incentivise views, not value. Creators are pushed to chase engagement at any cost, rewarded through monetisation schemes, sponsorships and algorithmic boosts. That pressure drives a race to the bottom, where misinformation spreads, outrage is currency and the most unhinged content floats to the top.

What is concerning is that the competition for attention can pressure creators to prioritise virality over substance, sometimes resulting in the dissemination of misleading or harmful content.

Policing the Rot

Given that brain rot content thrives on social media platforms, efforts to regulate it largely fall under the umbrella of platform governance, a domain that straddles both private and public spheres.

On the one hand, platforms exercise private governance through their Terms of Service (ToS) and community guidelines. These internal policies set vague boundaries around what is considered graphic, harmful or inappropriate content.

Yet, since brain rot is absurd, overstimulating and algorithmically optimised, it would typically evade these filters. Brain rot dances on the edge of acceptability; chaotic enough to hijack attention but not explicit enough to trigger enforcement.It does not clearly violate content standards related to violence, obscenity or misinformation. As a result, moderation tools such as shadow banning, demonetisation or content removal often fail to apply.

On the other hand, platforms must comply with national laws in jurisdictions where they operate.

Many Southeast Asian countries have enacted such regulations. Indonesia’s Ministerial Regulation No. 5 (MR5), Singapore’s Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act (POFMA), and Malaysia’s Communications and Multimedia Act (CMA) all allow governments to order the removal of unlawful or harmful content, and in some cases, prosecute individual users if they fall within reach of domestic jurisdiction. These laws typically target content that is defamatory, obscene or misleading.

However, brain rot content often slips through the cracks. It rarely meets the thresholds set by these laws unless it contains overt elements of misinformation or harmful behaviour. When it affects children and youth, protections may be triggered under child-specific digital safety laws.

In the case of AI-generated content, new legal frameworks, like those emerging in the European Union, could require platforms to label and disclose machine-generated media. Still, few countries in the region have enacted robust AI content regulations.

Beyond hard law, soft law instruments and ethical guidelines offer additional (if limited) tools. Platforms such as YouTube implement content filtering and age-restriction mechanisms (e.g. YouTube Kids), but enforcement remains inconsistent. This underscores a larger point: digital literacy may be more effective than censorship in combating the cognitive erosion caused by brain rot.

Empowering users (particularly youth and parents) with media literacy education and platform controls is a more sustainable approach. Simple practices such as enabling application time limits, disabling notifications, using work mode or even manually resetting algorithmic feeds (by unfollowing content that fuels overstimulation) can make a real difference. In the absence of perfect laws, sometimes the best resistance to brain rot is a well-informed scroll.

What If We Like the Rot?

What if brain rot, instead

We live in a digital age marked by information overflow, post-meaning discourse and post-sincerity engagement. The younger the generation, the more fluent they are in irony, absurdism and hyperreality. With mainstream news constantly flooded by surreal and disturbing headlines such as mass shootings, genocide, climate collapse, and political nonsense, it is no surprise that the absurd feels familiar.

For many, brain rot content resonates more deeply than traditional media. It mirrors the overstimulation, existential anxiety and cognitive exhaustion that characterise contemporary life. Its appeal lies in its form: fast, disjointed and intensely stimulating.

Like the digital equivalent of ultra-processed food, it provides instant gratification, being high in impact but low in substance, delivered through frictionless, context-free consumption. The brain consumes it not for insight but for the relief of sensation.

In an era where comedy can now be found in ironic memes, deadpan surrealism and digital absurdity, brain rot can be seen as a form of rebellion. It rejects curated influencer aesthetics, aspirational storytelling and the polished performance of online life. It is already an emerging genre of humour; one that in a few years may feel more intelligible than whatever we are about to spiral into next.

For those who have engaged with this discussion in full, it is likely they are either newly introduced to the concept of “brain rot” or already deeply embedded within its cultural context.

For those who find themselves in the latter category, this phenomenon should not be viewed as an individual lapse in attention but rather as a collective reflectio

Introduction

Tralalero Tralala, Bombardino Crocodilo, Tung Tung Tung Tung Sahur — no, these are not newly discovered animal species, nor are they spells ripped from a rejected Harry Potter draft.

They are the names of some fictional AI-generated characters known as “brain rot” that have flooded the Internet and, somehow, wormed their way into the daily lives of Gen Z, Gen Alpha, and even some millennials.

From Skibidi Toilet to Only in Ohio memes to the ever-repeating Tralalero Tralala, this bizarre wave of content is part of what many now call the “brain rot” phenomenon.

At first, I thought these memes would stay trapped in the Internet’s weird corners. But I was wrong. Walking through the streets of Debrecen, Hungary (yes, a quiet little town far from the chaos of TikTok trends), I came across not one, but two kids chanting “Tralalero Tralala” and “Tung Tung Tung Sahur” like it was their second nature.

That was my wake-up call: the Internet’s absurdities are not just staying online—they are bleeding into real life and becoming a serious concern for how children experience the world.

Origins

It is fascinating – and frankly a little alarming – that over 37,000 people in 2024 voted for “brain rot” to be Oxford’s Word of the Year.

Defined as “the supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of online content”, the term hits harder when you stop laughing and actually think about it.

But how did we end up here?

Decades ago, experts predicted we would have flying cars by 2025. Instead, what we have now are AI-generated images clogging up our online spaces and even leaking into mainstream journalism. Somewhere along the line, we took a wrong turn at Innovation Avenue and ended up in Meme Town.

Historically, the term brain rot is not new—it dates back to 1854, when Henry David Thoreau used it in his book Walden to describe society’s tendency to dumb down complex ideas.

Frankly, it is no surprise the phrase has clawed its way back into popular use, now fuelled by an endless flood of digital content accessible to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Today, brain rot lives not in dusty old philosophy books but as viral memes, usually in the form of low-quality, AI-generated images combining animals, objects and fruits, all paired with absurd “Italian” names like Frigo Camelo or Ballerina Cappucina.

These memes are often accompanied by generic voice-overs and random Italian music, spreading quickly across social media. Content creators have even upped the ante by adding “backstories” or “lores” to these bizarre characters, with some even placing them in tournament-style brackets with crude animations.

Paradox

While these memes seem harmless, they can carry hidden dangers. Some variations of Tralalero Tralala, for example, have voice-overs that include phrases that can be interpreted as blasphemous (“porco dio e porco Allah”—pig god pig Allah). Meanwhile, Bombardilo Crocodilo have voice-overs that say “bombarda i bambini a Gaza e in Palestina” —bomb the children in Gaza and Palestine.

Such content, while seemingly absurd, can desensitise viewers to sensitive issues, particularly when it involves religious themes.

In an era of unlimited access to information, abundance has produced a poverty of wisdom. Novés called it the “paradox of digital knowing”—the more we consume, the less we truly understand. In this context, brain rot is the clearest proof, as our minds are overloaded with low-value, disposable content, crowding out the meaningful knowledge we actually need.

The real irony? We are not forced into this—we choose it. In a world where millennials, Gen Z and Gen Alpha are pushed into exhausting 9-to-5 routines just to survive, the easiest escape is a mindless scroll through social media. The addiction is pure and simple, and in many cases, it outruns traditional addictions such as drugs.

Some creators have even captured the absurdity: there are sketches where addicts do not beg for cigarettes or drinks but for “just one more scroll”.

Doomscrolling

Social media is now the main reason people use the Internet. This is not speculation; it is a reality backed by usage numbers, with Indonesia ranking the third highest Southeast Asian country in terms of social media consumption.

Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and TikTok are deliberately engineered to maximise user engagement and screen time, encouraging constant scrolling to keep users trapped in the cycle.

This design has given rise to what is now known as the brain rot behaviour. Doomscrolling – the compulsive, endless consumption of low-value content – has become a daily routine for millions. As screen time increases, so does the grip of brain rot.

Research shows that excessive screen exposure is linked to a decline in the microstructural integrity of the brain’s white matter tracts—areas critical for language development, executive function and emerging literacy. In short, our brains are being physically rewired by our inability to disconnect.

The overconsumption of low-quality content has serious cognitive consequences. As people mindlessly scroll, they struggle to organise information, solve problems and think analytically. Memory and recall begin to fade, and what seemed like harmless entertainment slowly dismantles higher-order cognitive functions.

The effects worsen over time. Chronic exposure to this digital sludge leads to emotional desensitisation, cognitive overload and a negative self-concept. Meanwhile, executive functions – such as memory, planning and decision-making – deteriorate under the weight of constant, meaningless information.

Brain rot is no longer just a metaphor; it is a clinical reality. And yet, we continue to walk straight into it, eyes wide open, phones in hand.

Legal Implications

The presence of brain rot content on the Internet inevitably raises legal concerns, particularly in the areas of content moderation, data privacy and intellectual property.

Content moderation is the most relevant yet least impactful legal issue. While laws target graphic or obscene content, brain rot content does not always fit these categories, making enforcement difficult.

If such content violates basic human rights, like freedom of religion or blasphemy, platforms should consider flagging it as offensive. However, the dilemma lies in whose values the platforms should prioritise—those of the platform or its users?

In terms of data privacy, brain rot content is fuelled by algorithms that exploit user data to maximise engagement. While the European Union has imposed stricter regulations on data collection, elsewhere, countries with weaker laws struggle to control data privacy, as they lack bargaining power with social media companies.

Regarding intellectual property, brain rot characters may present future copyright concerns if they are commercialised. For example, if AI-generated images lead to movies or books, legal questions arise about who holds the rights to these works.

Escaping Brain Rot

Escaping brain rot is not complicated—it is just incredibly difficult. It demands what most people today

Getting out of it is not about finding the perfect productivity app or the right digital detox hack but about choosing to stop feeding the addiction.

Recovering from brain rot naturally starts with cutting down social media use. This means actively limiting screen time, not just talking about it. Some platforms, such as Instagram and TikTok, even offer built-in features that allow users to set daily usage limits.

But let us be honest: if you do not have the willpower to respect those limits, it is like locking the cookie jar and leaving the key next to it. You will override the limit with two taps and a half-hearted apology to yourself. Taking a real break from social media has also been proven effective. Strategies range from scheduling tech-free hours, turning off notifications or – for those who actually want results – deleting the most toxic apps entirely. It sounds extreme, but so

Worrying Development

In March 2025, chilling news emerged from the Ngada Regency, East Nusa Tenggara, whereby the regency’s police chief was found to have sexually abused three children, recorded his acts and uploaded the videos to an Australian-based pornography website. The Australian authorities alerted Indonesia’s Ministry of Women’s Empowerment and Child Protection after detecting the illicit footage online.

The perpetrator, AKBP Fajar Widyadharma Lukman Sumaatmaja, was later stripped of his position and charged with sexual and drug abuses.

This revelation underscores three intertwined offences: the physical, sexual violence against minors, the production and the digital dissemination of child sexual abuse material (CSAM).

Though this case did not involve the use of sophisticated technology, it points towards the imperative to criminalise AI‑generated CSAM in Indonesia. A pertinent question is this: to what extent should the law evolve to address artificial child abuse imagery to boost prevention, legal enforcement and child protection?

Despite the gravity of CSAM-related crimes, current charges under the Information and Electronic Transactions Act (ITE Law 1/2024) and Articles 55–56 of the Criminal Code merely carry a maximum penalty of six years’ imprisonment or a fine of up to Rp1bn.

Meanwhile, Article 45(1) of the ITE Law addresses distribution of child pornography; Article 4(1) of the Pornography Law 44/2008 tackles

However, these provisions are applied in isolation, resulting in fragmented sentencing and legal loopholes. Notably, no statute explicitly criminalises synthetic or AI‑generated CSAM, leaving law enforcement ill‑equipped to tackle digitally fabricated child sexual abuse images.

Criminalisation is a Must

Cesare Beccaria, a pioneer in modern criminology, maintains in his magnum opus that the ultimate aim of punishment must be deterrence rather than vengeance. He posits that individuals are rational actors who calculate the potential benefits of wrongdoing against the likelihood and severity of punishment. When sanctions are both certain and prompt, the perceived risk of detection outweighs any criminal gains.

In the context of CSAM, his insights underscore the necessity of a legal framework in which consequences are clearly defined, consistently applied and swiftly enforced—thereby deterring would‑be offenders before any harm occurs.

The production and consumption of CSAM for

Some International Responses

To make matters worse, recent years have seen an alarming spike in AI‑generated CSAM. The Internet Watch Foundation reported that from October 2023 to July 2024, ro

These synthetic depictions, though created without direct contact with real children, nonetheless perpetuate exploitative narratives and pose serious challenges to existing legal definitions of abuse.

Article 34 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) obligates each of its 196 state parties to shield minors from all forms of sexual exploitation, including those enabled by novel technologies. As paraphrased from an article by media scholar Sonia Livingstone and her colleagues, the UNCRC’s preventive mandate must be interpreted in light of digital transformations, ensuring that emerging forms of harm – real or simulated – fall within its protective scope.

Thus, criminalising AI‑generated CSAM is aligned with the prevailing international commitment to prevent – rather than merely address – abuses against children.

Despite their artificial origin, AI‑generated CSAM images can cause genuine trauma. The Nepal ChildSafeNet report illustrates how highly realistic, AI‑crafted pictures and videos can trigger deep psychological distress among victims and the broader community, even when no actual child was harmed in their production.

Further

In response to these evolving threats, the United Kingdom has enacted a legislation criminalising the creation, possession and distribution of AI‑generated CSAM. By erasing the need for law‑enforcement agents and prosecutors to distinguish between real and synthetic content – a task growing ever more difficult as generative algorithms advance – the United Kingdom’s approach fortifies child protection and streamlines judicial processes.

This development serves as an international precedent, demonstrating how preventive criminal law can adapt to encompass new technological modalities.

Indonesia’s Position

Indonesia, which ranked fourth globally and second in ASEAN for CSAM distribution, reported more than 5.5 million cases over the past four years. With 89% of children over the age of five using the internet primarily for social media, according to Indonesia’s Ce

The Ministry of Communication and Digital Affairs (Komdigi) has already established a digital child‑safety working group, reflecting its commitment to combating CSAM. Yet, to stay ahead of emerging threats –particularly synthetic content – Komdigi must expand its mandate beyond age checks to encompass technology‑driven harms.

First, Komdigi should spearhead a regulation explicitly outlawing AI‑generated CSAM. This might be the quickest solution rather than pushing the Ho

Second, Komdigi should pursue partnerships with social media and technology platforms to deploy advanced detection tools. Industry initiatives like the Robust Open Online Safety Tools consortium illustrate how public–private collaboration can accelerate the identification and removal of harmful content at scale.

Finally, Komdigi must convene expert working groups to draft comprehensive, future‑proof regulations. Anticipating the next wave of digital offences, such as deepfake abuse, will ensure that policies remain effective and futureproof as offenders adopt ever more sophisticated means.

Conclusion

Focusing solely on age verification risks neglecting the broader technological landscape in which predators operate. Generative AI not only generates new CSAM but also empowers abusers to evade detection and re-traumatised victims through eerily authentic imagery. By criminalising AI‑generated content, fostering cross‑sector collaborations for rapid removal, and preparing robust, adaptable legislation, Indonesia can strengthen its national duty to protect children and uphold its international commitments in the digital age.

Introduction

In the age of mercantilism, economic dominance was not merely about trade—it was enforced through brute military strength.

European empires deployed gunboats to the coasts of nations, coercing them into opening markets, signing lopsided treaties or even submitting to colonial rule.

The Opium Wars of the 19^th century stand as a stark example—when China resisted British trade demands, gunboats rained fire upon its ports, forcing the Middle Kingdom to cede Hong Kong and open its economy on unfavourable terms.

Power was exercised through the barrel of a cannon while nations bent under the weight of superior firepower.

Today, the battlefield has shifted, but the objective remains the same: influence, control and dominance. Gunboats no longer dictate policies; instead, social media does.

The rise of digital platforms has created a new arsenal of influence operations—one where narratives, not naval fleets, determine the direction of entire countries. Algorithms replace admirals and viral trends become the new cannonballs.

Those who can shape public opinion can shape long-lasting policies. No warships needed; no shots fired—yet the effects can be far more enduring. A single viral campaign can sway elections, overturn governments or redefine national identities.

The ASEAN Landscape

In ASEAN, where youth make up a significant portion of the population and digital adoption is at an all-time high, this reality is unfolding at an unprecedented pace.

From likes to legislation, the power once wielded by empires through brute force is now in the hands of millions of young, digitally empowered individuals. What they believe, share and push into the mainstream today will become the policies that shape their nations tomorrow.

ASEAN’s economic rise has been nothing short of remarkable. In 2024, the region contributed 7.2% of the global economy and was responsible for 8.6% of the world’s GDP growth over the past decade.

With a combined GDP projected to reach US$4.25 trillion by 2025, ASEAN is on the verge of surpassing major economies and cementing itself among the world’s top five economic powerhouses.

This growth is not merely a statistic—it is reshaping global supply chains, investment flows and economic alliances.

Unlike the aging economies of Europe, where labour shortages are becoming a structural problem, ASEAN enjoys a demographic advantage. With a median age of just 31, its workforce is young, vibrant and d

The contrast with Europe, where the median age is over 40, is stark. While Western nations grapple with declining birth rates and economic stagnation, ASEAN’s youths are driving an unprecedented wave of innovation, entrepreneurship and consumption. This demographic dividend is fuelling the rise of a powerful middle class, which is expected to reach 350 million people by 2030—larger than the entire population of the United States today.

These are all concrete indicators which enable the possibility of a digital revolution which squarely puts power and influence in the hands of the digitally savvy young generation.

Youth’s Digital Revolution

Over the past decade, the digital landscape in the ASEAN region has undergone a significant transformation, marked by substantial increases in internet access, mobile phone usage and social media engagement among young people.

In 2013, the average internet penetration rate in ASEAN was approximately 34%. By 2021, this figure had more than doubled, reaching 73%. This surge reflects the region’s rapid digital adoption and infrastructure development.

A study conducted in 2019 revealed that 97.5% of Thai high school student

To compound on to this trend, the average youths spend close to five hours a day on their smartphones, thus making them the most digitally reliant generation.

The omnipresence of youths on social media has blunt the influence of mainstream media which in nascent democracies are largely controlled by the government or its cronies.

In Malaysia, for over six decades, the Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition maintained political dominance, partly by controlling mainstream media narratives. The BN government either directly controlled the mainstream media through its ownership of news agencies like The Star and Bernama, or indirectly through strict media licensing laws that promote censorship.

Billionaires linked to the government through monopoly-like multibillion dollar concessions also owned other major media houses.

However, in the lead-up to the 14^th general election (GE14), social media platforms emerged as vital arenas for political discourse, especially among the younger demographic, thus breaking the long-held information monopoly.   

A study analysing 187 news pieces from six online news platforms during the 11-day campaign period highlighted that social media was effectively utilised to influence public perception.

Key issues such as the Goods and Services Tax (GST), the 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB) scandal, and the reputations of political candidates were extensively discussed online, contributing to a wave of political dissent and activism.

This online engagement played a crucial role in shifting public sentiment, leading to BN’s unprecedented electoral defeat.

This was particularly evident on the night before voting, whereby the prime minister candidate for the opposition directly communicated to the public via a Facebook-live event, a feat that was viewed by more than 220,000 people and reached 10 million people in less than 24 hours.

This last figure was more than half of the voting population. Comparably, the then sitting prime minister, who enjoyed the full backing of the media establishment, only garnered 15,000 audience while conducting a similar event.

Knowing that the government had a solid grip on the media establishment, the opposition then actively mobilised the youths to showcase the opposition videos to their parents and grandparents via WhatsApp groups, or in-person when they meet to cast their votes. This merged the influence of social media and the youths to successfully break the government-controlled information monopoly, thus leading to a historic election win.

The same trend

Winning 151 seats, the MFP effectively leveraged digital platforms to bypass mainstream media controls and mobilise grassroots support. On election day alone, the party was mentioned over 245,932 times across social media, with post-election engagement reaching 83.4 million interactions, 70% higher than any other party.

This surge in online activism translated into real political momentum, particularly among Thailand’s younger generations. Of the 52.3 million eligible voters, nearly 44% belonged to Gen Z (18-26 years old) and millennials (27-42 years old)—the demographic that overwhelmingly backed the MFP’s progressive policies.

Their engagement contributed to a historic 75.22% voter turnout, one of the highest in Thai electoral history. Through a combination of digital mobilisation, targeted messaging and political activism, the MFP demonstrated how social media can break conventional information monopolies, empowering young voters to reshape national politics despite institutional resistance.

The Dark Side of Social Media

Social media in the hands of the youths can also be a double-edged sword. It can empower the people, but it can also be weaponised to deceive them. Nowhere is this more evident than in the whitewashing of corruption and dictatorship.

In the Philippines, the Marcos family turned social media into a propaganda machine, rewriting history and painting the brutal Marcos dictatorship as a “golden age”. YouTube and Facebook were flooded with revisionist content, downplaying human rights abuses and glorifying an era of plunder and oppression. This relentless online misinformation campaign worked—Marcos Jr. rode the wave of digital deception all the way to the presidency.

In Malaysia, Najib Razak, convicted for his role in the 1MDB scandal

This is the terrifying power of social media. It does not just shape the present—it rewrites the past.

In the digital age, the erasure and rewriting of history through social media not only deceives the present but also imperils the integrity of future generations’ understanding of truth.

The youth of today are unshackled from the past. They do not carry the weight of old political battles or the emotional baggage of previous generations. History, to them, is not lived experience—it is content they consume online.

Just like how Marcos Jr. benefitted from a rewritten past, we see the same phenomenon in Malaysia with Anwar Ibrahim’s Reformasi movement. In 1998, Reformasi was a fiery rebellion against Mahathir Mohamad’s rule, marked by street protests, mass arrests and cries for justice.

For those who lived through it, Anwar was either a hero or a threat—there was no in-between. But for today’s youth, 1998 is not a memory, it is a hashtag. They see Reformasi not through the lens of those who fought for it, but through the narratives being shaped today.

The same Anwar who was once the face of resistance is now the prime minister, navigating compromises and coalitions. For the youth, the past is not set in stone—it is fluid, shaped by what trends, what gets shared and what is most convincing in the digital age.

Indonesia, ASEAN’s most populous democracy, is no different. President Prabowo Subianto’s transformation is nothing short of a political masterclass in digital rebranding. Once a controversial military figure, even banned from entering the United States, he is now Indonesia’s president—winning outright in the first round with 58.6% of the vote.

How? Social media magic. His campaign deployed

This was not just a campaign—it was a full-blown digital personality makeover. And it worked. Youth voters, who once saw him as a relic of the past, now saw him a

Final Reflections

The latest ISEAS survey in six Southeast Asian countries showed that young undergraduates rarely engage in political discussions online, with more than 50% of youths in five out of the six countries surveyed never or rarely discuss political or social issues online.

However, it fails to capture the nuances of youth activism.

Just because they do not actively post about politics does not mean they are apolitical or politically ignorant. More often than not, these youths are “lurkers” online—consuming hours of political content without actively posting. In fact, they are often more politically informed than older generations (the boomers), thanks to their constant exposure to digital information and reliance on social media as their primary news source.

This phenomenon becomes most evident during elections, when young people, once labelled as “politically disinterested”, suddenly mobilise in massive numbers to vote—often becoming the decisive force in political outcomes.

A local poll conducted just one month before Malaysia’s GE14 showed that more than 50% of youths were disinterested in politics. Yet, in less than 30 days, over 80% of young voters turned up to vote. Not only that, they also actively convinced their parents and grandparents to vote in their favour—triggering the greatest political upset in Malaysia’s electoral history.

All of these show that social media has become the new battleground for power. It can spark revolutions, rewrite history, elevate the fallen and bring down the mighty. It has given the youth of ASEAN a voice louder than ever before—a voice that can shape policies, influence elections and redefine national narratives.

But with great power comes great risk. The same platforms that expose corruption can also whitewash it. The same digital tools that empower democracy can also manipulate it.

The future of ASEAN will not be decided in old halls of power alone, but in the ever-evolving digital arenas where perception is reality and those wh

Introduction

The recent Brain Cipher ransomware attack on Indonesia’s Temporary National Data Center (PDNS) blatantly highlights the state’s continued lack of appreciation for cybersecurity. The attack successfully paralyzed 282 government institutions, creating massive problems to public service such as the immigration check points at several international airports.

Of most harrowing is the revelation that the affected data cannot be recovered – only 2% of the data stored are backed up.

As its name suggests, PDNS are intended

While waiting for its completion, three PDNS are in use at the moment, located in Surabaya, South Tangerang and Batam. It was the first of these PDNS, the one located in Surabaya, that was affected by the disastrous ransomware incident, first detected on 17 June 2024.

The Blame Game Begins

The confusion that ensued showcases the classical problem in Indonesia’s governance system, one that relates to jurisdictional uncertainty and overlap.

Instead of admitting its oversight during its meeting with the House of Representative (DPR), Kominfo instead pointed the finger at the “tenants”, government institutions that store data in PDNS but fail to back up their own data. The National Cyber and Crypto Agency (BSSN) strengthened this argument, stating that tenants should be responsible for their electronic system. Meanwhile, server provider Telkomsigma maintained that the system in place was already sufficient.

There is a need to breakdown each stakeholder’s responsibilities to obtain a deeper understanding of what really transpired.

In the PDNS ecosystem, there are at least four actors, namely Kominfo, BSSN, Lintas Arta and Telkomsigma as providers (the latter operates the Surabaya PDNS), and tenants. Kominfo and BSSN have the broadest power and responsibilities.

Per Government Regulation No. 71 Year 2019 (GR 71/2019), Kominfo is responsi

Reflecting on all these legal grounds, there are at least three essential roles played by Kominfo in the PDN system: “owner,” “regulator” and “expert”.

Despite these big roles, Kominfo’s attitude since the attack has appeared to be hands-off. This is reflected in Kominfo’s lackadaisical statement regarding the lack of back-up data. Stating that the back-up facility is already in place, Kominfo mentioned that the decision to back up data lies on each tenant.

Such statement indicates Kominfo’s seeming detachment from its responsibility as a regulator – to instruct its tenants to back up their data – and as an expert that must be cognizant of the basic necessities in the cybersecurity of e-governance.

Ideally, Kominfo should have ensured that all security measures are met before mandating government institutions to store their data in PDNS and, in the future, PDN.

Operational-wise, Telkomsigma is the service provider. We cannot precisely know what its actual responsibility is since there is no accessible legal document detailing its exact relationship with Kominfo.

We can infer that the responsibility of Telkomsigma  is technical-related, which means that it is an operator that can only act with Kominfo’s instructions. However, Telkomsigma plays a huge role in ensuring security and data protection, such as implementing strong password and multi-factor authentication.

BSSN is another crucial actor. It has a strategic role and remarkable power because it operates directly under the president. Preside

PR 95/2018 also mentions that BSSN has the responsibility to give its assessment on a system’s cybersecurity eligibility. Despite this vast power and responsibility, BSSN was curiously not involved by Kominfo in the development of PDNS, indicating a lapse in judgement on the part of the government. Perhaps its role and significance are not yet acknowledged by Kominfo, even though BSSN’s position is on minist

There are also tenants – such as the Ministry of Law and Human Rights; Ministry of Education, Culture, Research and Technology; National Public Procurement Agency, and; some regional government institutions – that are often scapegoated by Kominfo and BSSN. Tenants, according to PR 95/2018, are obligated to use PDN, which means they have no choice but to store their data in the government’s appointed server. Specifically, Kominfo issued Circular Letter No. 3 Year 2021 (CL 3/2021) urging institutions to maximize the use of PDNS until PDN is fully operational.

Tenants have less technical knowledge about PDNS and are only storing their data there because they are compelled to do so. On top of that, they are also made responsible for the protection of their data, which can be a source of inconvenience.

Putting the Attack into Context

It is imperative to put this ransomware incident in the context of personal data protection. This is because PDNS contains and processes citizens’ personal data that have been collected by the state over the years.

Fortunately, Indonesia’s Personal Data Protection Law – which would only come to force in October 2024 – could inform us about how the state is responsible for the protection of citizens’ personal data.

The Law establishes three actors in a data processing system – data subjects, data controllers and data processors.

In the PDNS ecosystem, the data subjects are individuals whose data are stored in the system by each government institution. They have some rights which allow them to be informed about how their data are being collected, stored and processed by the data controller – the government institutions in this context.

In this case, it is more likely that the data subjects, the citizens, do not even know that their data are stored in the PDNS. The state might argue that this measure was taken to ensure public interest is met.

However, even with this argument, the decision to store data in PDNS should be subject to other safeguards to protect the rights and interests of the data subjects. These include the principles of fairness and transparency as well as a data protection impact assessment.

Moreover, when there is a violation of personal data protection, such as a ransomware attack, the data controller should effectively respond. If the violation affects the rights of the data subjects, the data controller should properly inform them in a transparent manner.

In this ransomware incident, unfortunately the state has failed to ensure the data subjects’ rights are met because the data are not even backed up in the first place. This means each affected government institution cannot exactly determine whose data is compromised.

But the problem compounds when we consider the fact that these government institutions are merely the “tenants” in the PDNS system. Indeed, on one hand, as data controller they have the responsibility to protect the data they collect. On the other end, these institutions have no control or power over how the PDNS system is governed and protected.

To some extent, Kominfo’s claim as the data processor is valid because they are not determining the purpose and controlling the data stored inside PDNS. However, in the ideal relationship between data controller and data processor, the latter could only process personal data with a mandate or permission from the former.

In reality, in this PDNS system tenants have not mandated Kominfo to process the data, even though they are compelled to store their data in PDNS. Indeed, Kominfo is the one body that operates the system because by law it receives the mandate to manage the country’s data storage system. However, it has largely failed to ensure the protection of stored data, even though it has the authority to compel other institutions to use its service.

Put simply, this whole episode highlights a classical problem in Indonesia’s governance system – jurisdictional overlap. Moreover, the urge to “digitalize and modernize” has propelled the state to establish new laws and institutions as well as adopt new technologies, but these are not coupled with an effort to cover the most basic necessities in its e-governance system, i.e., erecting sufficient cybersecurity regime.

The failure to ensure all data are backed up is just too big to notice. Worse, PDNS system employed ridiculously weak password and did not implement multi-factor authentication process. All of these are testament of a statement made at the beginning: that the state has a continued lack of appreciation towards cybersecurity.

Urgency to Reform

The ransomware incident should not be seen as a standalone event. This incident is part of a structural cyber-related issues in Indonesia. The country experiences cyber attacks too frequently but the state has not been able to address the issue sufficiently.

Currently, Indonesia has implemented Law 27/2022, which should be a standard for data processing. BSSN, as an institution responsible for cybersecurity, has also had numerous strategic plans and policies that aim to mitigate cyber-attacks. However, the root of the problem is the willingness of the government institutions to evaluate, relearn and update their knowledge as well as expertise. Ultimately, this ransomware incident should become a momentum to reform the cybersecurity regime in Indonesia. It can be first started by formulating and implementing a cybersecurity bill.

Introduction

Two months ago, the European Parliament have finally passed the long-awaited Artificial Intelligence (AI) Act that was first introduced in 2021. The regulation was endorsed by the members of Parliament with 523 votes in favor, 46 against and 49 abstentions.

The EU’s AI Act is considered as the final technology-related legislation passed under the 2019-24 European Parliament and Commission, as a part of their mission to create a “Europe fit for the Digital Age”.

With the aim of creating a “futureproof” legal framework for AI regulation in all sectors, some pertinent questions arise. How will the act be implemented? Which key stakeholder would be most impacted by the regulation? Finally, will the legislation have any influence towards AI governance outside of the EU?

Impacts of the Act

Various countries have different approaches to governing AI. The United States prioritizes national competitiveness in AI development, often at the expense of individual rights and privacy. In contrast, China uses AI to maintain social harmony and control through their social credit system. However, both lack significant public criticism of AI systems, hindering the development of trustworthy and accountable AI.

Meanwhile, the EU’s identity is grounded in political values such as freedom and democracy, setting it apart from other global actors like the United States, China, Russia, and the United Kingdom.

The EU AI Act aims to regulate AI use with a focus on human-centric and ethical principles. It is envisioned to address such policy problems as potential violations of fundamental rights due to AI systems, including breach of privacy, bias, inequality and security issues.

The Act sets a broad definition on AI. The act defines it as “a machine-based system designed to operate with varying levels of autonomy, that may exhibit adaptiveness after deployment and that, for explicit or implicit objectives, infers, from the input it receives, how to generate outputs such as predictions, content, recommendations, or decisions that can influence physical or virtual environments.”

Concerningly, this definition appears rigid and thus could be detrimental for the legislation’s adaptability in the future, considering the constant evolution of AI every day. 

The adoption of this landmark law will have several legal consequences.

First, the new rules will prohibit certain AI systems that poses threats to citizens fundamentals’ rights such as biometric categorization system. This means that any AI application that manipulates human behavior or exploits vulnerabilities will be banned. Examples for these are social scoring system, emotion recognition or predictive policing.

Second, the Act will impose transparency obligations on the use of AI and sets certain restriction on the use of general-purpose AI models. If an AI system is designed and deployed to interact with humans, its provider and employer must inform the human users – in a clear and distinguishable manner – that they are interacting with an AI system.

The Risk-Based System

The Act attempts to balance between innovation

Applications and systems that are considered as unacceptable risk will be banned; such as real-time biometric identification in public areas. AI systems that pose direct threat to people falls under “high risk” and will be strictly prohibited. These include systems that encourage dangerous behavior in children, apply social scoring and classify people based on their behavior, socio-economic status, or personal characteristics.

Additionally, AI systems are always considered high-risk if it profiles individuals based on collected d

Chatbots and generative AI texts are considered “limited risks” and are subject to transparency obligations. “Minimal” or “no risk” systems, such as AI-enabled video games or spam filters, will be free to use and only subject to a voluntary code of conduct.

Implementing the Act

Once published in the EU’s Official Journal, the AI Act will come into force after 20 days, with full applicability expected in two years, except for certain provisions. Prohibitions will take effect six months after publication, while governance rules and obligations for general-purpose AI models will be applicable after 12 months. Additionally, rules for AI systems embedded in regulated products will apply after 36 months.

To aid the transition to the new regulatory framework, the Commission has introduced the AI Pact, an optional initiative encouraging AI developers worldwide to adhere to the key obligations of the AI Act in advance of its full implementation.

Additionally, the EU has also established the “European AI Office” that will oversee the Act’s enforcement implementation within member states. In doing so, it will have the authority to conduct evaluations of general-purpose AI models, request information and measures from model providers, as well as apply sanctions. The Office will collaborate with member states, expert and scientific community, industry and civil society in executing its mandate. This is a testament to EU’s multi-stakeholder approach to AI governance.

Implications for Non-EU Member States

A so called “Brussels Effect” is expected to occur after the adoption of the EU AI Act. It is a situation whereby EU’s introduction of its laws has a worldwide effect in shaping the international business environment and standards. An obvious example can be seen from the not-so recent enactment of the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) which sets a benchmark for data protection rules around the world, including Indonesia.

The EU AI Act will highlight the importance of public scrutiny towards AI application in daily life such as surveillance, health, education and law enforcement. It will prompt other countries to assess whether existing AI systems that have been applied within their territory may have caused harm or imposed risks on their citizens.

A definite outcome is that the Act will serve as a strong statement that the EU is able to regulate AI while ensuring that economic interests are still met. This is a manifestation of EU’s underlying legal policy and framework that are always based on the foundation of trade liberalization. This will encourage companies and investors of AI systems in the EU to adapt and comply with the Act. There is a li

Implications for Indonesia

While different countries have already progressed in initiating draft policies on AI governance, Indonesia’s progress seems to be on pause due to the recent presidential election. Outgoing President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s administration introduced the National AI Strategy, but it is up to President-elect Prabowo Subianto to carry this agenda forward. The concept of trust in AI is important for Indonesia. It involves strategically framing the narrative to unify societal skepticism towards AI while acknowledging its importance for national development. Like the EU, AI initiatives for Indonesia must be guided by national values, emphasizing trustworthiness and human-centric approach. Indonesia’s A

Introduction

The rise of China has prompted the Middle Kingdom to challenge the United States’ supremacy on a number of dimensions, be it geopolitical influence, trade and investment, as well as the cyberspace.

Unfortunately, in the process, this has also put China at odds with other countries, complicating their intertwined and interdependent bilateral relations.

As exemplified by South Korea and the Philippines, their pursuit of fulfilling respective national interest has made them an ample target of China’s cyber operations. Their stories serve as a warning flag for other countries, particularly those that are still bent on state-building objective.

As a multidimensional partner to China, Indonesia could learn a few lessons from the experience of the two aforementioned countries.

China Cyber Operations in South Korea and the Philippines

In March 2017, South Korea’s Lotte Group became a target of administration investigation, business boycotts and cyber-attacks by China owing to its land being used as a site for Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD). A virus was planted on Lotte’s China branch website which successfully suspended its operation for several days. The cyber-attack could be considered as part of retaliatory attacks that cost Lotte’s supermarket a 95% loss in 2017.

It may seem trivial to blame Lotte’s financial loss solely on this cyber-attack, considering other business- and financial-related factors were also at play. However, it shows the extent to which China is ready to pursue its interest and shape the environment to be favorable to its vision.

This is reminiscent of the term “doghouse diplomacy”, referring to a state’s exercise of aggravated act towards disobedient party in order to reap profitable circumstances or gains. It also indicates a reversal of the touted

The Philippines faced a similar conundrum recently. A cyber-attack against a government institution was detected earlier in 2023 and findings by Palo Alto Network, a US-based cybersecurity firm, attributed the attack to Stately Taurus group from China.

The government of Philippines was hardly able to muster an appropriate response as the Department of Information a

Geopolitical factor also comes into play. Since coming into power, President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. has pursued policies aimed at safeguarding the Philippines’ land and resources. This has necessitated some realignments in its relationship with the United States. For example, bilateral talks in November 2022 produced a few initiatives to further foster the alliance. Besides, a $7.5 million additional financial assistance was conferred to enable the Philippines Coast Guard acquire more patrol ships. In addition, a development grant under USAID helps the Philippines to embark on nature conservation and sustainable fishing agendas, with targeted area around the South China Sea.

Manila does not stop with just the United States. For example, the Philippines partnered with Australia for a joint patrol in the South China Sea in November 2023.

These steps, unfortunately, have caused discomfort among some in Ch

Lessons Learned for Indonesia

There are some valuable takeaways for Indonesia.

Firstly, the Philippines’ case shows the importance of capable human resource in the field of cybersecurity. Officials of the targeted government body were reportedly unable to respond to the threat properly.

Indonesia has taken the right step forward by establishing a national cyber agency called Badan Siber dan Sandi Nasional (National Cyber and Crypto Agency – BSSN). Whether BSSN would prove as an effective bulwark against cyber-attacks remains to be seen.

A formal infrastructure is not a cure-all solution, considering Indonesia’s digital protection ecosystem continues to be substandard. There have been some remedies to ameliorate this, such as the relatively new Personal Data Protection Act Number 27 2022, which stipulates the creation of a new data protection authority and calls for a structured, transparent and reliable data regime in commercial purpose.

Still in its transition process today, the Act will come into force in October 2024, a full two years after it was passed. Last year, the Ministry of Communication and Informatics (Kominfo) also announced that the government has drafted a derivative

Next, interagency cooperation, such as between BSSN and Kominfo, remains convoluted. As evidenced from a data breach case in July 2021, both agencies tended to be reactive in their response, failing to cut off the root of the problem in the country’s frequent personal data leak cases.

Further complicating the picture is the presence of two bodies tasked to carry out cyber-intelligence activities. While BSSN’s oversees the public sphere, Badan Intelijen Strategis (Strategic Intelligence Agency) operates foreign and military cyber-intelligence under the auspices of the Indonesian Armed Forces.

Meanwhile, both agencies are separate from Badan Intelijen Negara (State Intelligence Agency – BIN), an independent body that carries out general intelligence operations on behalf of the state.

Any effort to improve interagency cooperation must be cognizant of the jurisdictional maze controlled by either of these agencies. Since overlap is a risk, ensuring a clear standard of operation and procedure as well as data sharing mechanism are crucial. Clear boundaries between the two would also assist the prospective data protection authority to identify and remove gaps as well as executing its task efficiently.

Will all of these issues, it might be too tall an order to expect BSSN to safeguard our data and systems in Indonesia, especially if multiple cyber incidents occur simultaneously. Therefore, there is an importance to enable the private sector, civil societies and the grassroots to learn the most basic cybersecurity and cyber-hygiene skills. Local universities could serve as an important partner to advocate for and administer such agenda. 

Linked to that is the importance to tweak the ICT curriculum in schools and universities, which must now incorporate so

In an era where cyber-attacks can be used as a bargaining chip in a geopolitical game, Indonesia must uphold its guiding foreign policy principle of bebas aktif (free and active). This principle continues to bestow Indonesia with a large strategic room to manoeuvre the uncertain geopolitical landscape, allowing Indonesia to avoid being overdependent on a single partner.

As indicated above, a previous alignment (the Philippines) or a golden bilateral relationship era with China (South Korea) did not spare the two countries from being targeted by China’s cyber activities. These should serve as a warning alarm to other middle powers such

For example, Indonesia should consider enhancing its cooperation with partners in the Mexico, Indonesia, the Republic of Korea, Turkey and Australia (MIKTA) grouping. The last of these three countries are open for collaboration with others in the regulation of the cyberspace. It is thus to these three countries that Indonesia could potentially turn in order to elevate its cyber capacity through close consultations and exchange of best practices.

Introduction

The Russian invasion of Ukraine has entered its third year with no end in sight. As hope for a just and swift resolution to the conflict slowly fades, Russia instead intensifies its disinformation efforts to garner sympathy from both domestic and international audiences.

One of the most disturbing elements of the Kremlin’s propaganda is deeply intertwined with anti-Semitism, that is, the justification of the military attack as the “denazification” of Ukraine. This narrative stems from Russia’s efforts to falsely align the invasion with Soviet Union’s past war against Germany, a powerful memory that President Vladimir Putin has manipulated to create domestic pro-war sentiment and popular legitimacy.

To amplify these narratives, Russian officials, including Putin himself, have made several notoriously anti-Semitic remarks, such as denigrating Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s Jewish background and labelling his government as neo-Nazis. In doing so, the Russian government is attempting to undermine the reputation of the Ukrainian government and leaders in the eyes of the people in Russia and abroad.

Yet, interestingly, such anti-Semitic elements of pro-Russian narratives are packaged quite differently in other parts of the world. Indonesia, where anti-Semitic sentiment is rampant despite the lack of local Jewish communities, serves as an example to highlight the role of anti-Semitism in reinforcing the reach of pro-Russian propaganda.

Weaponizing Anti-Semitism

While Russia’s image in Indonesia was extremely negative during the early days of its military involvement in Syria, this time it appears to be entirely different. Public perception of Russia over its invasion of Ukraine has been strangely positive in Indonesia.

Russia’s public diplomacy effort to rehabilitate its image post-Syrian war might partly explain this shift. Indeed, evidence points to the fact that this positive sentiment emerges due to the attempts to mislead the Indonesian public. A major theme of pro-Russian narratives is religion-related disinformation, such as deceptively presenting Russia’s public image as a defender of Islamic values, while undermining Ukraine and the “West” as the enemy of Muslims.

Interestingly, some of these narratives are not coming directly from official channels representing Russian government, but organically from local news outlets (e.g., Tribun Timur) and content creators. However, a thorough open-source intelligence (OSINT) investigation reveals that the Russian Internet Research Agency (IRA), a company once operated by the Wagner group to perform influence operation, amplifies emotionally charged pro-Russian content to maximize reach and engagement. The investigation also found individuals recruiting Russian expats residing in Bali as “social media strategists”, which are likely tasked to amplify pro-Russian narratives.

Damaging Zelenskyy’s reputation has always been at the heart of Russia’s disinformation tactics. Pro-Russian actors highlight his Jewish background and past as a former entertainer to discredit his competence and character as a leader.

Some of these narratives are popular on TikTok (7.3 million views) and YouTube (>300,000 views), deliberately highlighting Zelenskyy’s Jewish heritage. Not surprisingly, the comment sections of these videos are flooded with anti-Semitic tropes. Additionally, some anti-Semitic comments appear to be driven by perceptions of Western countries’ alignment with Israel in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Because Russian propaganda is notorious for tailoring sensitive topics to vulnerable audiences, it is crucial to identify who the main audiences of these false narratives are.

To this end, I conducted two surveys (Survey 1: June 2022; Survey 2: March 2024) to take a closer look at those most likely to subscribe to pro-Russian narratives. My first survey invited 1,044 people to participate, while the second survey collected data from 373 participants.

Both surveys lead to similar conclusions: the propensity to believe anti-Semitic conspiracy theories is strongly associated with the endorsement of pro-Russian narratives, over and above participants’ personality and cognitive profiles.

While experts suggest that anti-Western attitudes and the desire for strong leadership may explain the popularity of pro-Russian narratives in Indonesia, my surveys show that both aspects contribute much less than anti-Semitic conspiracy beliefs. Since religion-related disinformation is popular, one might expect that Muslims with a stronger emphasis on Islamic values in their identity might be susceptible to these narratives, but the centrality of Islamic values to one’s identity does not seem to correlate with the propensity to support pro-Russian narratives.

This leads to the conclusion that there are no clear personality or cognitive features that characterize the main audiences, yet pro-Russian propaganda seems to resonate well with those who are predisposed to hold extreme, conspiratorial anti-Semitic attitudes.

In the absence of visible Jewish communities, how is it possible that some Indonesians harbor such derogatory, if not conspiratorial, anti-Semitic views? Besides, how does it play an important role in shaping Indonesians’ perceptions of global conflicts, such as the Ukraine invasion?

Some experts suggest that anti-Semitic conspiracy theories were first introduced in the 1950s by clerics who had received their religious training in the Middle East, where such beliefs are known to be politically potent, hence the popularity among the far-right Islamists.

In the 1980s and 2000s, several Islamic magazines (e.g., Hidayatullah, Media Dakwah and Sabili) gave mass appeal to these conspiracy theories. Much of the content of these conspiracy theories was shaped in the context of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan during the “War on Terror”, as well as the continuing Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These conspiracy theories are perhaps a readily accessible source of information for those who are predisposed to interpret major world events through the lens of religious ideology.

The content of conspiracy theories disseminated in such media is almost similar, with strong but unsubstantiated accusations that the Jews are the primary cause of all moral ills that threaten Islamic values, as well as the main actor orchestrating many important world events.  

The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a forged document once disseminated by KGB agents in the Middle East as a part of their anti-West disinformation campaign during the Cold War era, is repeatedly cited as the primary source of these unsubstantiated beliefs. Interestingly, however, the anti-Semitic rhetoric may actually have been around for a while in Southeast Asia, with the oldest historical record dating back to a manuscript written in the 17^th century.

Two-Face Anti-Semitism in Pro-Russian Narratives

Russian actors are notorious for spreading conflicting messages to appeal to the sympathies of different audiences. Unsurprisingly, the anti-Semitic elements of pro-Russian narratives in Indonesia, with a predominantly Muslim audience, assume a largely distinct face from the use of anti-Semitic rhetoric to promote pro-Russian narratives targeting audiences in the West.

Putin has made conflicting statements about Zelensky’s background, depending on the situation and the audience he is trying to reach. In front of Western audiences, for example, Putin questions and undermines Zelenskyy’s Jewish identity.

By contrast, pro-Russian narratives formulated by pro-Russian outlets and content creators targeting Muslim communities are much simpler: the messages embrace and emphasize Zelenskyy’s Jewish identity and the Western world’s alignment with Israel.

While these two narratives may be contradictory, this disturbing strategy maximizes the weaponization of anti-Semitism to spread disinformation about the invasion of Ukraine to various audiences.

As tensions rise over the Israeli-Palestinian crisis, pro-Russian narratives are dangerously finding fertile ground. Drawing a parallel with another Muslim community in the North Caucasus, organic anti-Semitic sentiments stemming from the Israeli-Palestinian crisis provoked a riot in Makhachkala. The Russian government then deceptively blamed Ukraine for inciting the incident.

Historical examples such as Soeharto who allegedly blamed the global Jewish conspiracy for the crisis that ended his dictatorship, or George Soros, a Jewish businessman accused of orchestrating the Asian financial crisis of 1998-1999, demonstrate how anti-Semitic conspiracy beliefs can be repurposed as a tool of political manipulation.

In the digital era, these old conspiracies are finding new life, skewing public perceptions of distant conflicts, such as the Ukraine invasion. The collision of disinformation campaigns and anti-Semitic conspiracy theories in Muslim communities is, apparently, an old wine in a new bottle.

Reflecting on this issue, the task ahead is clear but challenging. Before the invasion, I doubt that many Indonesians knew or were aware of the existence of Ukraine. Therefore, more Indonesians need to be exposed to counternarratives that emphasize solidarity, shared values and identity that can help build trust and solidarity between the people of the two nations. The Ukrainian government has made tremendous diplomatic efforts to achieve this, but more work is needed.

Note: The author does not include the links to the TikTok and YouTube videos to avoid amplifying harmful content. Interested readers are welcome to contact the author for data sharing.

Introduction

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is reshaping the world in profound ways,

Inclusive AI development signifies not only technological advancement but also the infusion of ethical considerations into the AI landscape. The ethical dimensions of

Concurrently, the Global South – comprising diverse nations across Africa, Latin America, Asia      and other regions – stands at the cusp of an AI revolution. As AI promises unpara

It is also essential to ensure that the benefits of this transformative technology are shared by all, transcending geographical and societal boundaries. Inclusive and equitable access to AI are not mere aspirations but imperatives that will define the path of AI’s journey through the 21^st century.

Inclusive AI Development

Inclusive AI development is a holistic approach that goes beyond technical excellence to incorporate ethical, societal and human-centered considerations. It aims to harness the power of AI for the betterment of all, while mitigating the potential risks and challenges associated with these technologies. This approach is essential for building AI systems that are not only cutting-edge but also responsible, equitable      and aligned with human values.

The development of AI is not merely exciting the Global North, but also people in the South. The positive implications that AI might bring are long-awaited by private sectors, governmental bodies, as well as researchers from multiple disciplines. AI has the potential to empower people and those at the grassroots level by providing access to innovative solutions and services. For instance, micro, small and medium enterprises (MSMEs) can leverage AI for tasks such as automated customer support, inventory management and personalized marketing, enabling them to operate more efficiently and compete in the digital economy.    

AI is also seen as a catalyst for economic development in the Global South which comprises many developing nations. Of course, these countries want to experience the benefits that AI offers as mentioned above. However, several challenges – such as lack of funding, lagging infrastructure sophistication and also lack of personnel capabilities – render AI development in the South lagging behind that in the North. Thus, the adoption of AI by many stakeholders in the South remains a unique challenge despite the very rapid development experienced by AI.

Ethical AI and Data Governance

One of the main pillars of AI development depends so much on the large amount of data fed into its system. It is not just a matter of quantity: the better the quality of the data given to AI, the better the outcomes it will be able to produce.      

This concern can be a big barrier for an ethical AI development and to avoid harm for most people. However, to map

The first point, for example, is very important because it is a fundamental human right. Violation of one’s privacy can lead to a worse scenario, such as the undermining of one’s dignity or safety. Thus, safeguarding the data being fed to an AI system is crucial.      

On the second, policymakers at national or regional levels can work together to establish a clear guidance on what standards should be met when feeding data to an AI system during its training phase. Because if we take a look back at what General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) has regulated, even data subjects have the right to be forgotten from a data controller’s system.

Currently in the Global South, in terms of legally binding instruments for the AI training system, there is not yet clear guidance when, how and under what circumstances one could request their data to be deleted from an AI system. This can al

In addition, data governance on AI shall also uphold the intellectual properties in each dataset an AI developer might collect. Not all data on the Internet is free for use in the first place.

Data such as written works, a collection of chords from a song, or even a complex set of software backend coding formula might have also been registered as someone’s copyrights in national or international jurisdictions.

The use of huge amounts of data collected and stored in an AI system during its training phase could possibly deny the economic value of the initial creator. If such a thing happens frequently and collectively, it will impact economic growth, especially in the creative industry where appreciation to one’s work depends on intellectual property and the economic value in it.

Bridging the Global AI Gap    

The AI advances we see and experience today are an important part of what the Global North is all about. Qualified personnel capabilities, adequate infrastructure, abundant funding availability and policy frameworks that are starting to be finalized are major capital for the rapid development of AI.

Apart from that, the high use of AI in Western countries also means demand for investment is high. The large number of early AI adopters appeals to investors and the level of existing liquidity (both venture capital and private equity) to support AI development is increasingly unstoppable.

The AI is increasingly being adopted even in the public sector. Belgium’s CitizenLab, a civic technology company, aims to empower civil servants and provide them with machine-learning augmented processes that will help analyze citizen input, make better decisions and collaborate more efficiently internally. CitizenLab’s platform uses Natural Language Processing (NLP) and Machine Learning (ML) techniques to automatically classify and analyze thousands of contributions collected on citizen participation platforms.

Canada offers another example. Transport Canada is the department responsible for the Government of Canada’s transportation policies and programs: it promotes safe, secure, efficient and environmentally responsible transportation. Transport Canada is adopting AI to enhance processes and procedures, thereby freeing up employees to work on more highly valued tasks.

The department started by exploring the use of AI for risk-based reviews of air cargo records, which could be scaled to other areas if successful. To achieve this, the department assembled a multi-disciplinary team consisting of members of Pre-load Air Cargo Targeting (PACT), the department’s Digital Services and Transformation division, one of Canada’s Free Agents, and AI experts from from an external IT firm. As a result, the team was able to use AI to automatically generate accurate risk indicators.

Meanwhile Indonesia, the largest country in Southeast Asia, the use of AI is still led by the private sector. One of them is the use of AI by McEasy, a company that provides Software-as-a-Service (SaaS) for logistics and transportation operators. The development of this innovation occurred thanks to funding at the end of last year for route optimization and fleet management, thereby pro

Conclusion

Reflecting on the two success stories of using AI above, despite all the barriers and risks, there lies hope for better, AI-enhanced future. However, certain steps must be pursued.

First, we must ensure that there is a flow of investment funds from Global North to the Global South. AI development is very complex: it ranges from developing infrastructure, to acquiring technical expertise, to establishing clear legal regulatory frameworks and to grabbing research and development opportunities. All of these factors require a lot of funds to realize. With the relatively limited funds faced by developing countries in t

Second, we need to encourage the participation of the Global South in AI development and adoption through a clear multilateral cooperation framework. This can be achieved more quickly by involving regional organizations such as ASEAN or South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC).

Such collaboration must also be able to accelerate other United Nations’ agendas such as the SDGs because they have the appeal to attract the cooperation of various UN member states. Apart from that, cooperation between regional bodies can be a fast way to realize multi-layered, standardized, ethical and responsible use of AI. Therefore, it is hoped that policies such as the AI Act will not only be adopted in the European Union, but also in ASEAN or SAARC regions.