OTR: Corruption Sparks Unrest Across Indonesia, Philippines, and Malaysia

Indonesia: People's fury

Last week, Indonesia was already on the edge. Economic hardship, mass layoffs, and rising costs of food, education, and housing had widened the gap between political elites and ordinary citizens. The revelation that each of the 580 members of the House of Representatives (DPR) was to receive a new monthly housing allowance of Rp50 million (NZ$5,151.76 est.), almost ten times the Jakarta minimum wage, proved to be the breaking point.

The controversy, compounded by a viral video of lawmakers dancing during the recess, came to symbolise government indifference and arrogance.

Timeline of the unrest:

August 25, 2025: Demonstrations began in Jakarta and quickly spread to Medan. Student groups, labour unions, and motorcycle taxi drivers demanded higher wages, an end to outsourcing, and the scrapping of the allowance.

August 27, 2025: Protests escalated. In West Kalimantan, students stormed the local DPR building, while in Jakarta, clashes disrupted commercial districts and halted public transport.

August 28, 2025: Violence turned deadly when Affan Kurniawan, a 21-year-old motorcycle taxi driver, was run over by a police tactical vehicle in Central Jakarta. The incident, captured on video, went viral and became a rallying cry against police brutality.

August 29, 2025: Riots spread nationwide. In Makassar, protesters set fire to the regional parliament building, killing at least three people trapped inside. Similar scenes unfolded in Surabaya, Bandung, and Yogyakarta.

August 30–31, 2025: The death toll mounted. A suspected police intelligence officer was beaten to death, a university student died in Yogyakarta, and an elderly man in Central Java succumbed to tear gas exposure. By the end of the month, at least six to seven people had died, with hundreds more injured.

The human and financial costs were severe. Jakarta alone reported more than 469 injuries and over 1,200 arrests. Nationally, the unrest claimed at least seven lives, including Kurniawan and the three Makassar fire victims.

Consequently, the economic fallout was immediate. Jakarta Governor Pramono Anung estimated damage at Rp 55 billion (NZ$5.67 million est.), while the rupiah weakened and the stock market plunged as investors reacted to the instability.

Also, over the weekend, Indonesia’s unrest moved from the streets into the private lives of its political class. Demonstrators targeted the homes of several MPs, forcing open gates, vandalising property, and looting valuables. Luxury cars were torched, furniture and electronics were carried out, and in some cases, family members of lawmakers were forced to flee. One widely reported incident took place at the Jakarta residence of DPR member Arteria Dahlan, where protesters smashed windows and set fire to vehicles inside his compound. The attacks were a striking symbol of how public anger over corruption had turned directly against the country’s ruling elite.

For many Indonesians, the images of ransacked houses shared online carried more weight than speeches in parliament. Protesters framed the looting as a form of symbolic justice, arguing that the opulence on display stood in stark contrast to the daily struggles of families facing rising food, housing, and education costs.

Authorities were quick to condemn the incidents. “These were not demonstrations but outright crimes,” a police spokesperson said, warning that arrests would follow and that looting undermined the legitimacy of protest. Government allies echoed the sentiment, portraying the attacks as a dangerous escalation that blurred the line between dissent and anarchy. Yet opposition figures and activists countered that the targeting of lawmakers’ homes reflected the depth of public disillusionment.

Government response

President Prabowo Subianto scrambled to contain the escalating crisis.

The turmoil forced him to cancel a planned trip to China, where he had been scheduled to attend a military parade commemorating the end of the Second World War.

In Jakarta, Prabowo announced a raft of emergency measures. The controversial housing allowance for lawmakers would be revoked. Overseas trips for MPs were suspended. A transparent investigation was promised into the death of Affan Kurniawan, and he pledged direct assistance to Kurniawan’s family. Seven officers have already been detained pending further inquiry.

At the same time, the president struck a hardline tone. He warned that arson, looting and attacks on state institutions would be treated as “criminal acts” bordering on “treason and terrorism.” He instructed the military and police to restore calm with “the firmest possible action.”

Prabowo stressed that his government upholds freedom of expression as guaranteed in Indonesia’s constitution and international conventions. But he drew a sharp line at violence.

“When demonstrations turn anarchic, destroying public facilities, endangering lives, and attacking private homes or public institutions, this becomes a serious violation of law,” he said.

By Monday, the government’s response was visible on the ground. Police set up checkpoints across Jakarta. Officers were patrolling neighbourhoods to “protect” citizens and project a sense of restored security.

Philippines: The Uncontrol Flood of Corruption

Filipinos turn to social media to call out "nepo babies," heirs of corrupt officials and contractors, as symbols of graft and privilege while communities drown in floods. Photo: Wiki Commons

As climate change intensifies across the globe, the Philippines finds itself particularly vulnerable. Metro Manila and nearby provinces are experiencing increasingly severe flooding, a crisis compounded not only by extreme weather but also by allegations of man-made mismanagement rooted in greed and corruption.

At the centre of the storm is a widening political scandal over alleged graft in the government’s flood control projects. Revelations of irregularities have sparked widespread public anger, with Filipinos turning to social media in a novel form of protest, calling out and publicly “shaming” the children of politicians and contractors accused of profiting from the flawed schemes.

The controversy has been further amplified by the administration of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., which has opened an investigation into the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). Early findings point to so-called “ghost projects” and anomalies in the allocation of billions of pesos meant for flood management. The probe has underscored not only the urgency of addressing climate resilience, but also the persistent governance challenges undermining public trust in one of Southeast Asia’s most disaster-prone nations.

The unholy trinity of corruption

The public’s anger stems from what has been exposed as a three-pronged failure of the government’s infrastructure program:

• Ghost Projects: A significant portion of the allocated funds has gone to "ghost projects"—schemes that were fully paid for but either never existed or were never completed. These entirely fraudulent projects mean that public money has been outright stolen, with no benefit to the communities they were meant to protect.

• Substandard Construction: Beyond the ghost projects, a vast number of flood control structures have been built with inferior materials and poor workmanship. Audits and legislative probes have shown that up to 60 per cent of a project’s budget is often siphoned off through a series of corrupt schemes. This forces contractors to cut corners, leading to structures that are so poorly built they collapse after the first major storm. The public is now seeing this firsthand, with newly built dikes and bridges crumbling and failing to protect their communities from floods.

• The "Maintenance" Cycle: These shoddy projects also create a new opportunity for corruption. The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) has a huge budget for "maintenance and rehabilitation," which critics argue is a continuous cycle of spending to fix projects that were never meant to last in the first place. This further drains the national treasury, all to fix a problem created by corruption.

Scale of scandal

Since July 2022, the government has poured about PHP545 billion (NZ$14.2 billion est.) into flood-control projects. Alarming, however, is that nearly PHP100 billion (NZ$2.6 billion est.), almost one-fifth of the total - went to just 15 contractors. Most of these firms are tied to politicians or their close associates.

Investigations found that the bidding process was largely a façade. Several of these contractors own multiple companies that would “compete” against each other for the same project. No matter which entity won, the contract ultimately ended up in the same hands.

The Senate Blue Ribbon Committee hearing on Monday, September 1, highlighted alarming irregularities: 6,021 projects, valued at over PHP350 billion (NZ$9.1 billion est.), lacked clear descriptions of the infrastructure they were supposed to deliver.

Filipino Senator Panfilo Lacson has gone further, claiming that over the past 15 years, the government spent approximately PHP2 trillion (NZ$52 billion est.) on flood management — and that half of that may have been lost to corruption, with possibly only 40 per cent yielding actual, usable infrastructure.

Fraud and performance audits are underway, particularly targeting the area of Bulacan—a hotspot for questionable flood-control spending. The Commission on Audit (COA) is expected to file charges this month against implicated DPWH officials and contractors.

President Marcos Jr. has called on citizens to submit reports through the Sumbong sa Pangulo (Report to the President) platform and ordered lifestyle checks across DPWH officials. He also vowed to issue an Executive Order establishing an independent commission to investigate irregularities in flood-control projects.

Amid growing pressure, DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan tendered his resignation, effective September 1,  2025, citing "command responsibility" for the flood-control anomalies. He was succeeded ad interim by former Secretary of Department of Transportation Vince Dizon, who was sworn in and immediately tasked with rooting out corruption and ending "ghost projects"

Within hours of assuming office, Dizon directed all DPWH officials—including undersecretaries, assistant secretaries, division heads, and district engineers—to submit courtesy resignations, calling it a “clean slate from top to bottom.” He also promised to permanently blacklist contractors involved in ghost or substandard projects.

Online bullying or lifestyle policing?

Frustrated by what they see as systemic failure and entrenched impunity, young Filipinos have turned to a novel form of protest: “lifestyle policing.” This online movement, driven largely by social-media-savvy youth and influencers, calls out the ostentatious lifestyles of political dynasties and their business partners. It is not only the children of politicians under the spotlight, but also the families of favoured government contractors whose wealth and prominence have come to symbolise profiteering from the flood-control bonanza.

On TikTok, Instagram, and X (formerly Twitter), users juxtapose images of luxury cars, designer handbags, private jets, and lavish overseas trips with the stark realities of flooded neighbourhoods and families wading through murky water. Some posts calculate how the price of a single designer bag or pair of shoes compares to a year’s wages for a minimum-wage worker, framing graft not as a distant policy debate but as an everyday injustice.

Critics argue that such campaigns border on online harassment, warning that children and relatives should not be blamed for the alleged corruption of parents or business associates. But supporters counter that these individuals are not passive victims—they often flaunt their wealth publicly, making them symbols of a corrupt system that robs ordinary citizens of safety and dignity.

For many, “lifestyle policing” offers a rare sense of accountability in a country where formal investigations are slow and convictions rare. By exposing the extravagant spending of both politicians’ families and influential contractors, the movement has struck at the nexus of politics and business that drives corruption in infrastructure projects. It has also underlined the growing power of social media in the Philippines, where digital platforms have become alternative arenas for political dissent and civic engagement.

The Philippines’ flood crisis is not merely a consequence of climate change — it’s a human-made tragedy exacerbated by corruption. As COA audits press forward and public scrutiny intensifies, the country stands at a crossroads: will it seize this moment for genuine reform — or will the cycle of greed continue to drown both communities and trust in government?

Malaysia: Rushed Procurement Bill

Opposition MPs walk out of Dewan Rakyat after failing to stall Procurement Bill. Photo: Wiki Commons

In Malaysia, what was meant to be a flagship reform has instead become a lightning rod for public anger. Parliament’s approval of the long-awaited Government Procurement Bill—a law designed to make state contracting more transparent—was supposed to signal that the country had learned from scandals like 1MDB. Instead, the speed and manner in which it was passed has sparked a backlash from opposition lawmakers, civil society groups, and ordinary Malaysians.

The law aims to standardise how ministries, agencies, and local councils spend billions of ringgit annually. Open tenders are set as the default, with measures to support small businesses and local industries. “Green procurement” has been introduced to align public spending with environmental goals. Most strikingly, the bill prescribes some of the region’s harshest punishments: fines of up to RM10 million and prison sentences of up to 20 years for procurement-related corruption.

Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s government championed the bill as a keystone of its reform agenda. Deputy Finance Minister Lim Hui Ying hailed it as a “historic moment” that would “end once and for all the culture of Ali Baba contracts,” where politically connected firms have long skimmed off government projects.

The shadow of 1MDB

The urgency of reform is clear when set against Malaysia’s most infamous scandal: the 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB) case. Established in 2009 as a state investment fund, 1MDB was supposed to spur economic development.

Instead, billions of US dollars were siphoned off through a web of shell companies and fraudulent deals. The money trail stretched across the world—luxury real estate in New York and London, Hollywood films like The Wolf of Wall Street, private jets, even a US$250 million (NZ$412.5 million est.) yacht. Former Prime Minister Najib Razak was convicted and jailed for his role, while international investigations implicated bankers and businessmen from Switzerland to the United States.

For many Malaysians, 1MDB was the ultimate betrayal: public money stolen in plain sight, with institutions either complicit or powerless to stop it. It is against this backdrop that the procurement bill was meant to restore trust.

A rushed reform

But the government’s haste has undermined its credibility.

• August 21, 2025: The bill is tabled in Parliament with little advance notice.

• August 23: Transparency International Malaysia and Bersih issue statements warning that rushing the law would “taint its legitimacy.”

• August 25: Debate intensifies in the Dewan Rakyat. Opposition MPs demand the bill be referred to the Parliamentary Select Committee on Finance and Economy. The request is denied.

• August 27: In a single sitting, the second and third readings are completed. Opposition MPs led by Hamzah Zainudin (PN) stage a walkout, accusing the government of bulldozing reform without scrutiny.

• August 28: The bill passes with a comfortable majority, backed by the unity government. Civil society groups respond with fury. Demonstrators gather outside Parliament holding placards that read “Transparency starts with you” and “Don’t rush reform.”

• August 29–30: Protests spread to Penang, Johor Bahru, and Ipoh. Students and NGOs accuse the government of “repeating the arrogance” of previous administrations. Hashtags like #ProcurementReform and #RakyatTakBisu (“The People Are Not Silent”) trend online.

For many Malaysians, the frustration is not with the principle of the law—it is widely accepted that procurement reform is urgently needed. The anger stems from the symbolism of how it was passed. After 1MDB, citizens expected openness and debate; instead, they witnessed another law being hustled through with limited scrutiny.

“We support the law, but we reject the way it was shoved down our throats,” said one protester interviewed outside Kuala Lumpur. Another activist compared the move to past abuses of power: “If reform looks like this, what makes it different from Najib’s time?”

Young Malaysians have been particularly vocal, linking the procurement bill to wider democratic anxieties. Student leaders pointed out that legislation meant to safeguard transparency must itself be born of transparent debate. NGOs, meanwhile, warned that by retaining wide ministerial discretion, the law risks becoming another tool for political favouritism rather than a safeguard against it.

For Anwar’s unity government, the procurement bill was meant to cement reformist credentials and attract investor confidence. Instead, it has become a case study in how process matters as much as substance. The law may indeed strengthen Malaysia’s contracting system over time. But the protests, walkouts, and public disquiet highlight a deeper reality: Malaysians, like their regional neighbours, want reforms to be participatory, not paternalistic.

As one student protester declared, “We are not against reform. We are against reforms done without us.”

From Jakarta’s parliament buildings set ablaze, to Manila’s online campaigns, to protests in Kuala Lumpur, recent events show how corruption issues are fuelling public frustration across Southeast Asia. Governments are responding with investigations, leadership changes, and new laws, but whether these measures can address deeper concerns about accountability and trust remains uncertain.

-Asia Media Centre