In the noisy theater of Indonesian politics—where alliances are fleeting and grudges long-lasting—it is rare to witness a leader who chooses grace over vengeance. Yet Prabowo Subianto, now at the helm of the republic, is taking a road less traveled: one paved not with triumphalist scorekeeping, but with restraint, reconciliation, and a startling absence of bitterness.
Immanuel Ebenezer—better known as Noel—knows this shift firsthand. Once a vocal opponent of Prabowo during the divisive presidential elections of 2014 and 2019, Noel today stands as the leader of Prabowo Mania 08, a volunteer network backing the president. What changed? According to Noel, it was the unmistakable sincerity behind two recent acts: an amnesty for Hasto Kristiyanto and an abolition of charges against Tom Lembong. Both men had, at one point, been embroiled in narratives that cast Prabowo in a negative light.
These gestures were not mere legal technicalities—they were symbolic moves from a president willing to close old wounds, even when those wounds were deep and personal.
Consider the Hasto case. The former PDI-P Secretary General was linked to a smear campaign suggesting that Prabowo had physically assaulted a deputy minister. Hasto’s now-infamous phrase, “where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” helped fuel public suspicion, tarnishing Prabowo’s image even before any facts were confirmed.
Most leaders, when faced with such public attacks, would retaliate with lawsuits or silence. Prabowo did neither. He granted amnesty. In doing so, he reframed the conversation—not just legally, but morally. He reminded the nation that true leadership isn’t about punishing enemies; it’s about freeing oneself from the burden of vengeance.
Then came the decision on Tom Lembong, a respected figure once accused in a sugar import corruption case many believed was politically motivated. Again, rather than let the case drag on or escalate, Prabowo issued an abolition, ending the legal process altogether.
For some, these moves were controversial—too soft, too forgiving, perhaps even naive. But for Noel and many who observe politics not just through a partisan lens but a human one, they were acts of emotional intelligence. In letting go of the past, Prabowo is making room for something sorely needed in Indonesian governance: clarity of vision.
Noel offers a metaphor: Prabowo’s heart is “white as snow.” Snow cools, calms, and covers scars with a quiet dignity. But even snow cannot prevent the appearance of wolves—those who, cloaked in diplomacy, might one day turn again. Forgiveness, after all, doesn’t always lead to redemption. Some enemies don’t change. Some simply wait.
That, Noel admits, is the real test. Can a president remain forgiving without being exploited? Can he uphold compassion while drawing the line when it’s crossed?
This is not a blind ode to power. It’s a reflection on the rare quality of a political figure who doesn’t confuse strength with revenge. Prabowo’s approach suggests that forgiveness isn’t weakness—it’s discipline. It’s strategy. And perhaps, it’s legacy.
In a time when political wins are often celebrated by crushing rivals, Prabowo’s pardons feel almost anachronistic. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe what Indonesia needs now is not more victors, but more visionaries—leaders who heal, not just govern.
Amid the noise of suspicion and the scars of the past, President Prabowo is choosing a different legacy: one not defined by how many adversaries he defeats, but by how many he forgives.
In the end, history may not remember every speech or campaign. But it will remember moments like these—when a leader could have punished, and instead chose peace.
By Giostanovlatto Founder Hey Bali
