December 2025 marked a somber period for Indonesians, particularly for those residing along the northeastern coast of Sumatera. A cyclone originating in the Indian Ocean triggered extreme weather conditions across Sri Lanka, Thailand, and, most severely, Indonesia. As the cyclone made landfall, flash floods and landslides became inevitable, resulting in a death toll exceeding 1,300 and leaving hundreds of thousands displaced. The scale of this disaster in early December 2025 evokes memories of the 2004 Aceh Tsunami, and still affecting a broader geographical area.
In response, grassroots solidarity emerged rapidly. Various civil society groups established digital platforms for crowdsourcing aid, demonstrating tactical efficiency in mobilizing resources and coordinating distribution to affected regions. This agility stands in stark contrast to the Indonesian government’s response, which was perceived as sluggish and hindered by bureaucracy. Reports indicated instances of illegal levies imposed by local officials on Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) attempting to access isolated areas.[1] Furthermore, the Indonesian government explicitly declined international assistance—from both foreign governments and NGOs—under the rationale that domestic resources were sufficient to manage the crisis independently. For many Indonesians, this decision was more about the nationalistic pride of the president than responding to the urgent needs of people affected by the disaster.
Public disillusionment intensified following credible analyses suggesting that the catastrophe was not merely a “natural” disaster. While the extreme weather of December 2025 affected several South and Southeast Asian nations, the impact was disproportionately severe in Sumatra, Indonesia. Data from Kompas revealed a significant reduction in Sumatra’s protected forest cover over the last four decades: 36.305 hectare per year, equal to 139 football fields per day.[2] WALHI, a leading Indonesian environmental NGO, detailed how this loss of tropical rainforest resulted from a half-century of an extractive economic model that facilitates corporate exploitation without mandatory reforestation.[3] An investigative report by Tempo magazine further identified 31 companies granted deforestation permits to convert forests into palm oil plantations, several of which allegedly maintain close ties to government elites.[4]
The public critique of the disaster management serves as a culmination of civil unrest that drove social movements across Asia—including Nepal, Indonesia, and the Philippines—between August and October 2025. In Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and Nepal, these movements successfully ousted incumbent regimes and catalyzed systemic reforms. This wave of criticism underscores a declining trend in civil trust toward public officials. Given that public trust is a fundamental pillar of democracy, its erosion has become a global phenomenon. Since 2021, OECD data has shown a significant decline in government trust, particularly regarding complex issues.[5] While the OECD acknowledges that “government” is a pluralistic concept encompassing various organs—such as law enforcement, political parties, and local or national administrations—each with distinct public images, the legitimacy crisis facing public service providers must be addressed with gravity.
In this context, ethics provides a framework for diagnosing these issues and offering a path toward public service reform. In Indonesia, Johanes Haryatmoko has been a prominent advocate for the importance of public ethics for officials and politicians.[6] He distinguishes public ethics from general social ethics, defining the former as the application of ethical standards by public officials in fulfilling their mandates and formulating public policy. Haryatmoko proposes that public officials must possess three core competencies: technical-managerial, moral, and leadership.
First, technical-managerial competence is essential. Public trust diminishes when a government is perceived as incompetent in managing day-to-day operations. Post-election appointments are frequently based on “pork-barrel” politics to reward its political supporters rather than professional merit, which ultimately undermines institutional credibility.
Second, ethical competence serves as a compass for policy-making. Granting deforestation permits for almost 40 years in protected forests without considering long-term ecological consequences signifies a failure of integrity and a disregard for the public interest. Such decisions often point to potential conflicts of interest between extractive industries and government entities.
Third, leadership competence transcends mere managerial skill; it concerns the discernment and establishment of institutional goals. Influenced by Paul Ricoeur, Haryatmoko argues that a political institution should “[aim] for the good life, with and for others in a just institution.” By aligning leadership with this concept, the aspiration for individual flourishing can be reconciled with the principles of communal justice. I would add that the concept of ‘the others’ must include all living creatures and the broader environment, moving beyond a strictly anthropocentric definition.
These three competencies require two supporting conditions to thrive: public accountability and subsidiarity. Accountability for public decisions (e.g., issuing permit for forest logging) should be pursued through formal judicial and legislative oversight. However, accountability is also achieved through informal, genuine forms of public discourse. In Indonesia, demands for accountability are increasingly voiced by stand-up comedians; their satirical “punchlines” regarding flawed public policies often resonate more deeply with the public than formal parliamentary debates, which frequently serve as a theatrical “rubber stamp” for executive decisions.
Furthermore, the principle of subsidiarity must be integrated into public administration. Local civil society movements are often more agile and targeted than bureaucratic apparatuses. Subsidiarity should not be viewed as a rejection of the state, but rather as a mechanism that supports the state’s mandate as the “bearer of the common good.”
Ultimately, the assertions made by civil society regarding the late 2025 disasters are accurate: these were not natural disasters, but ecological disasters. It remains the duty of civil society to demand the accountability and transparency of public policies to ensure such ecological catastrophes do not recur in the future. In this sense, the Indonesian public urgently needs robust public ethics discourses.
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[1] Detik, Pengakuan relawan pembawa bantuan kena pungli [Volunteer aid carrier admits to extortion], https://www.detik.com/jogja/berita/d-8297182/pengakuan-relawan-pembawa-bantuan-ke-aceh-kena-pungli-oknum-dishub
[2] Kompas, Hutan Sumatera Lenyap [Sumatran forest vanish] https://www.kompas.id/artikel/hutan-sumatera-lenyap
[3] WALHI, Legalisasi Bencana Ekologis di Sumatera Barat Aceh dan Sumatera Utara dan Tuntutan Tanggung Jawab Negara serta Korporasi[The Legalization of Ecological Disasters in West Sumatra, Aceh and North Sumatera and the Demand for State and Corporate responsibility} https://www.walhi.or.id/legalisasi-bencana-ekologis-di-sumatera-barat-aceh-dan-sumatera-utara-dan-tuntutan-tanggung-jawab-negara-serta-korporasi
[4] Tempodotcom, Pembalakan Hutan 31 Perusahaan Pemicu Bencana Sumatera [Forest logging by 31 companies as a trigger for disasters in Sumatera] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS5EPgRAzgM
[5] OECD, “Building Trust in a complex policy environment: OECD Survey on Drivers of Trust in Public Institution – 2024 Results” https://www.oecd.org/content/dam/oecd/en/publications/reports/2024/07/oecd-survey-on-drivers-of-trust-in-public-institutions-2024-results_eeb36452/9a20554b-en.pdf
[6] Haryatmoko, Etika Publik untuk Integritas Pejabat Publik dan Politisi [Public ethics for the integrity of public officials and politicians], Jakarta: Gramedia, 2011.