As we wrapped up our observation of Indonesia’s 1999 general elections, one particular lesson stood out—not from the voting procedure or the mechanics of the ballot, but from the culture of civic discipline that surrounded the entire process. It was something deeply humbling and enlightening to witness: the Indonesian people’s quiet but firm commitment to a clean, peaceful, and respectful exercise of democratic rights.
The campaign period had ended just days before the election, but what struck me most was the immediate transformation of the streets and public spaces. The morning after the final day of campaigning, not a single party streamer fluttered from lamp posts, no litter of leaflets scattered on sidewalks, no remnants of what had been an intense political rally the day before. It was as if the entire nation had collectively decided to cleanse itself of political debris to prepare for a solemn democratic exercise. And they did so without needing prodding from authorities. The party members themselves took responsibility for cleaning up—removing posters, sweeping streets, restoring the city’s order.
Coming from a country like the Philippines, where campaign materials often remain long after elections have passed—cluttering walls, bridges, and even trees—this was, for me, a powerful visual of political maturity. Civic order was not enforced from above; it was internalized from within. Indonesians understood the importance of respecting the law and the sanctity of the electoral process. Even at the grassroots level, volunteers and party supporters knew when to switch from rallying to respecting the quiet dignity of the vote.
This spirit of discipline extended even to the conduct of political rallies. I recall with amazement the day we landed in Jakarta and witnessed a massive rally of the PDI-Perjuangan, the party of Megawati Sukarnoputri. The sea of red-clad supporters, singing and dancing in the streets, brought back memories of our own EDSA People Power movement—joyful, proud, and deeply participatory. But unlike the sometimes rowdy rallies we experience in the Philippines, theirs was a demonstration of solidarity and enthusiasm tempered by discipline. No violence, no vandalism, no confrontations. The city may have been filled with people, but it was not overrun by chaos.
Even the administration party, Golkar, held its rally the following day with a similar air of restraint and structure. Friday, the final day of the campaign period, ended without incident—and without any need for last-minute threats or penalties. The rules were clear, and they were observed. That clarity, coupled with discipline, turned what could have been disorder into an orderly transition from campaign to election day.
This commitment to electoral cleanliness did not end in the streets. It continued in the polling places. Voters arrived in an orderly manner, observed queues, and quietly awaited their turn. Election officers followed procedures meticulously, and party representatives maintained respectful conduct throughout. The absence of heckling, intimidation, or disorder was not the result of heavy policing—it was the fruit of a shared civic understanding that the election was not about personalities alone, but about process and principle.
What I witnessed was more than a democratic exercise. It was a reflection of a political culture that was reforming itself—moving away from authoritarianism not just by changing leaders, but by changing attitudes. And perhaps that is the greatest lesson we can learn from the Indonesians: democracy must be lived not just through institutions but through the daily habits of its citizens.
Back in the Philippines, many of our election-related problems—vote buying, harassment, political violence, and even apathy—stem not from a lack of laws but from a lack of civic discipline. We have electoral reforms on paper, but we struggle to implement them because we haven’t fully embraced the values that give life to democracy: honesty, accountability, and respect.
Indonesia, despite its political upheavals and economic challenges, showed the world—and showed me personally—that even a young democracy can set an example. By putting the common good above partisan advantage, by showing courtesy in competition, and by valuing the integrity of the vote over the ambitions of candidates, Indonesians reminded us that the real strength of a democratic society lies in its people.
That lesson, above all, remains with me today. It’s not just a lesson about elections—it’s a lesson about nationhood.
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