In August-September 2025, Indonesia was rocked by a wave of protests that culminated in the looting of some public figures’ residences. This was not an isolated incident, but rather the violent climax of months of public discontent under the new administration of President Prabowo Subianto. The nation was grappling with severe economic hardship —including rising food costs, mass layoffs, and unpopular tax hikes— alongside a growing sense of democratic backsliding. The immediate catalyst was a proposed Rp 50 million (US$3,057) monthly housing allowance for legislators, an amount ten times the capital’s minimum wage, which was widely seen as a symbol of elite arrogance and indifference. The protests escalated dramatically into nationwide riots after a civilian was killed by a police tactical vehicle, transforming public anger over economic policy into a visceral rage against state brutality. The looting of a prominent politician’s home, broadcasted live on social media, became the ultimate symbol of this societal breakdown. Such an event serves as a “social text” demanding deep interpretation beyond simple condemnation.
This essay argues that the demonstration and subsequent looting, while involving the personal sins of its perpetrators, are fundamentally symptomatic of “structures of sin” deeply embedded in Indonesia’s socio-political landscape. Using the framework of Catholic Social Teaching (CST), this analysis contends that the looting is a tragic consequence of systemic injustice. An adequate moral response, therefore, requires not just condemnation of the act, but a prophetic critique of the structures that provoke such despair.
The Architecture of Injustice: Defining Structural Sin
While sin is traditionally defined as a personal act against God’s law, CST recognizes its profound social dimension. The Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that an accumulation of personal sins “gives rise to social situations and institutions that are contrary to the divine goodness”. These are the seeds of structural sin.
The concept was formally articulated by Pope John Paul II in Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1987). He identified “structures of sin” as the institutionalization of personal sins, especially the “all-consuming desire for profit” and the “thirst for power”. When embedded in economic or political mechanisms, these attitudes create powerful forces that oppose the common good. These structures are both the “expression and effect of personal sins” and, in turn, “grow stronger, spread, and become the source of other sins, and so influence people’s behavior” (art. 36). This framework does not eliminate personal responsibility but radically re-contextualizes it, extending culpability to those who fail to limit social evils out of “laziness, fear or the conspiracy of silence” (footnote nr. 65).
The Indonesian Context: Mapping the Structures of Sin
Three specific structures of sin are particularly relevant to the Indonesian context. First is radical inequality, what John Paul II called “superdevelopment” coexisting with “underdevelopment,” which is a visible moral crisis in Indonesia. The extreme wealth gap —symbolized by the luxurious homes of public figures— is perceived not as the fruit of legitimate work but as the product of an unjust system. This structure, rooted in materialism, fosters resentment and creates fertile ground for social unrest.
Second is institutionalized corruption. Systemic corruption in Indonesia’s political and bureaucratic spheres is a textbook example of a structure of sin. Here, personal sins of greed have been cemented into a system that denies the poor access to fundamental rights like justice, education, and healthcare. A public figure, regardless of personal corruption, becomes a symbol of this entire system.
Third is the erosion of solidarity. Society becomes fragmented into competing political and economic blocs, a failure of what Sollicitudo Rei Socialis defines as the “firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good” (art. 38). When solidarity collapses, the poor are no longer seen as members of the same community but as obstacles, making aggression against symbols of the elite more conceivable.
The Eruption: Looting as Symptom and Sin
The act of looting can be understood through the Catechism’s insight that structures of sin “lead their victims to do evil in their turn”. The looting is not primarily a calculated act of individual greed, but an explosive expression of accumulated frustration against a system perceived as unjust and unresponsive. It is a distorted cry for justice. When legitimate channels for grievance are seen as part of the oppressive structure, people may resort to extra-legal acts to be “heard.”
This analysis does not excuse the act. Looting is an objective personal sin, a violation of justice that CST never condones. However, the moral culpability of the individual is complexified by the “almost unbearable” pressure of the sinful structures that provoked it. Tragically, the act mirrors the materialism of the system that it opposes, revealing how structures of sin can “influence people’s behavior,” even in rebellion.
The Prophetic Way Forward: A Call for Dual Conversion
A response guided by CST must move beyond simple condemnation. It calls for what Pope Paul VI in Evangelii Nuntiandi termed the “evangelization” of cultures and structures, not just individuals. This involves bringing the Gospel to bear on the “criteria of judgment, determining values, [and] models of life” that contradict it. The Church’s mission is thus inherently social, demanding a “commitment to justice” as part of its prophetic role. This requires cultivating the virtues of solidarity —a commitment to the common good— and the “love of preference for the poor,” judging society from the perspective of its most vulnerable members.
CST calls for a dual, interconnected conversion. Personal conversion is essential for all —the powerful must repent of greed, while the oppressed must repent of hatred and violence. But this must be accompanied by structural conversion: the difficult, long-term work of transforming “structures of sin” into institutions that promote justice, dignity, and the common good.
The framework of structural sin rejects simplistic narratives from all sides —both the purely condemnatory narrative that demonizes the poor and the revolutionary narrative that justifies violence. It offers a more difficult but more honest path that acknowledges complexity and shared responsibility. Ultimately, this incident must not be forgotten as another news cycle but must serve as a catalyst for a deep and honest national dialogue in Indonesia. It is a call for a collective examination of conscience. For the Church, it is a call to renew its prophetic mission: to speak truth to power, to stand in solidarity with the poor, and to work tirelessly for the conversion of both consciences and the structures that shape public life.