Based on this article from September 8, 2025, Indonesia has undergone significant political and economic changes. Here are the key developments:

New Finance Minister Appointed

President Prabowo Subianto has appointed Purbaya Yudhi Sadewa as the new Finance Minister, replacing Sri Mulyani Indrawati who had served for over a decade. Purbaya, 60, previously led the Indonesia Deposit Insurance Agency (LPS) and brings academic and policy expertise in economics and finance.

Ambitious Growth Targets

The new Finance Minister has set ambitious economic goals, promising to accelerate Indonesia’s GDP growth to 6-7 percent. This represents a significant increase from current performance:

• Q1 2025: 4.87% growth
• Q2 2025: 5.12% growth
• Government targets: 5.2% (2025) and 5.4% (2026)

Response to Social Unrest

Purbaya’s appointment comes amid the “17+8” protest movement, led by student groups and civil society organizations demanding wide-ranging reforms including:

• Parliamentary accountability
• Budget transparency
• Anti-corruption measures
• End to criminalization of protesters
• Military withdrawal from civilian affairs

The new minister believes stronger economic growth will address these grievances by creating jobs and improving living standards, stating that with 6-7% growth, “those demands will disappear automatically.”

Economic Strategy

Rather than overhauling existing systems, Purbaya plans to optimize current fiscal frameworks, describing his approach as making “the old machine work better.” This aligns with President Prabowo’s shift away from austerity toward economic expansion.

This cabinet reshuffle represents a significant pivot in Indonesia’s economic policy direction under the Prabowo administration.

The Machine Whisperer

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Purbaya Yudhi Sadewa walked through the corridors of the Finance Ministry for the first time as its leader. The marble floors echoed with his measured steps, each one carrying the weight of a nation’s economic future.

At sixty, Purbaya had seen enough government transitions to know that revolutions often promised more than they delivered. The protesters outside chanted their “17+8” demands, their voices rising like a tide against the ministry’s windows. But inside these walls, surrounded by decades of fiscal machinery, he saw something different—not a system to be torn down, but an engine waiting to be tuned.

“Sir?” His aide approached hesitantly, clutching a stack of economic reports. “The press is asking about your 8 percent growth target.”

Purbaya paused at a window overlooking Merdeka Square, where demonstrators held banners demanding transparency, accountability, an end to corruption. Their energy reminded him of his own student days, when change seemed as simple as shouting loud enough.

“Tell them I never promised 8 percent,” he said quietly. “That would be a lie, and this country has had enough of those.”

The aide looked confused. “But the President’s supporters are expecting—”

“The President is expecting results, not fairy tales.” Purbaya turned from the window, his eyes finding the portrait of Sri Mulyani that still hung on the wall—his predecessor who had stewarded the economy through crisis after crisis with careful, measured steps. “She built something solid here. We’re not going to demolish it for the sake of looking revolutionary.”

Over the following weeks, Purbaya dove deep into the ministry’s operations. He met with department heads who had served under multiple administrations, listening to their assessments of what worked and what didn’t. The budget allocation system that had been criticized as sluggish? It was actually robust, just under-resourced. The tax collection apparatus that seemed inefficient? It had the bones of a modern system, but lacked digital integration.

“You see,” he explained to his deputy ministers during a late-night strategy session, “everyone wants to be the architect who designs a new building. But sometimes you inherit a house that just needs better plumbing and electrical work.”

Thomas Djiwandono, one of his deputies, spread out charts showing Indonesia’s growth trajectory. “The protesters think we’re ignoring their concerns, but look at these employment figures. If we can push growth from 5 to 6 percent, that’s potentially 2 million new jobs. At 7 percent…”

“At 7 percent, a lot of those young people outside will be too busy building careers to build barricades,” Purbaya finished. “But we can’t just promise it. We have to deliver it.”

The strategy that emerged wasn’t glamorous. No grand announcements of new agencies or sweeping policy overhauls. Instead, Purbaya focused on what he called “precision improvements”—streamlining approval processes that had stalled infrastructure projects, digitizing systems that still relied on paper trails, and redirecting funds from bloated administrative costs to direct economic stimulus.

When the press questioned his incremental approach, Purbaya would smile and reference his years at the Deposit Insurance Agency. “When a bank is failing, you don’t burn it down. You recapitalize it, fix the governance, and get it lending again. Same principle applies here.”

Three months into his tenure, the numbers began to shift. Not dramatically—Indonesia’s economy was too large and complex for sudden transformations—but steadily. Infrastructure projects that had been delayed for months suddenly found their permits approved. Small businesses discovered that tax compliance procedures that once took weeks now took days.

At a cabinet meeting, President Prabowo reviewed the quarterly reports with visible satisfaction. “The students are still protesting,” he noted, “but the crowds are smaller.”

“Give it time,” Purbaya replied. “Revolution makes headlines, but evolution pays salaries.”

As autumn settled over Jakarta, Purbaya stood again at his office window, watching the city below. The protesters were still there, their demands unchanged, their passion undimmed. But something else was happening too—construction cranes rising on the horizon, help-wanted signs appearing in shop windows, the subtle but unmistakable signs of an economy finding its rhythm again.

He thought of his predecessor, Sri Mulyani, and the foundation she had built—solid, unglamorous, designed to last rather than to impress. Now it was his turn to tend that foundation, to keep the machine running not just smoothly, but faster.

Outside, Jakarta pulsed with the energy of 10 million people pursuing their dreams and ambitions. Inside the Finance Ministry, one man worked quietly to ensure that those dreams had the economic foundation they needed to become reality.

The revolution, Purbaya reflected, wasn’t always in the streets. Sometimes it was in the spreadsheets, in the policy adjustments, in the patient work of making an old machine run better than anyone thought possible.

And sometimes, that was exactly the kind of revolution a country needed most.