By: Laksamana Sukardi
When the Regent of Pati, Sudewo, declared: “I will not resign, because I was elected by the people!” he was correct that he had indeed been chosen through a direct election. Yet he seemed to forget—or perhaps failed to understand—that being elected by the people does not give a leader the right to make decisions that betray their interests. Such was the case when he raised land and property taxes in Pati Regency, Central Java, a move that provoked widespread public protests and demands for his resignation.
The Sudewo phenomenon is not unique. It mirrors patterns seen throughout history—even centuries before the Common Era—when rulers lost power because they became isolated from their people: ignoring their suffering, drowning in the excesses of palace life, or believing only the flattery of sycophantic advisers. The pattern is clear: once a leader loses touch with the lived realities of the people, legitimacy begins to erode.
Historical parallels include:
1. King Rehoboam of Judah (10th century BCE).
After Solomon’s death, his son Rehoboam became king. The people asked for relief from heavy taxation. Instead of listening to the elders, he followed the advice of his youthful companions and replied harshly: “My father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scourges of thorns.”The result was immediate. His realm collapsed as many provinces seceded, leaving his rule drastically diminished.
2. Tarquinius Superbus – The Last King of Rome (late 6th century BCE).
Tarquin the Proud ruled as a tyrant, surrounding himself with a narrow circle of elites and flatterers while ignoring independent advisers and the common people. His arrogance, combined with abuses of power by his family—most infamously his son Sextus in the outrage against Lucretia—alienated both nobles and citizens.
The revolt led by Lucius Junius Brutus in 509 BCE deposed Tarquin, abolished the monarchy, and gave rise to the Roman Republic.
3. Emperor Commodus of Rome (2nd century CE).
Commodus abandoned governance, preferring to indulge his fantasies as a gladiator while surrounding himself with sycophants. Both the Senate and the people came to see him as hopelessly detached from reality.Disorder followed, and Commodus was assassinated in 192 CE.
The lessons of history reveal recurring causes in the downfall of rulers:
• Isolation from truth:
listening only to loyalists and flatterers while silencing the voices of ordinary people.
• Overconfidence:
assuming the people’s loyalty is permanent and that power can be secured through wealth.
• Excessive indulgence:
wasting resources on luxury and grand projects while neglecting urgent public needs.
• Rule by fear:
relying on intimidation rather than compromise, turning law into a tool for silencing critics.
• Ignoring warning signs:
by the time unrest becomes visible, it is often too late to act.
From ancient times to the modern age, history has repeated itself, with humanity often failing to learn from these mistakes.
A troubling parallel is found in Indonesia today in the debate over “Bright Indonesia” versus “Dark Indonesia.” This debate reflects stark inequality: it is as if two groups live in separate rooms, completely cut off from one another—one above, brightly lit, and the other below, in darkness. Each side feels justified, because both realities are true: “it is light above and dark below.”
The examples of Sudewo (Regent of Pati, 2025), Rehoboam (King of Judah, 10th century BCE), Tarquinius (last King of Rome, 6th century BCE), and Commodus (Roman Emperor, 2nd century CE) illustrate the recurring tragedy of truth in isolation. Those in power above envision a radiant future, cushioned by privilege and luxury, while the people below see only darkness ahead, burdened by hardship. In essence, “light above and darkness below” means that rulers remain blind to the struggles of their people.
If Indonesia wishes to avoid repeating the darkest chapters of human history, it must strive instead for “light above and light below.” This requires leaders at the top to descend and see whether there is any “light within the darkness.” Only then can debates take place in the same room, under the same light.**
