Over the past few months, Indonesia’s New Order (Orde Baru) has once again become a topic of public discussion. Under President Prabowo Subianto’s administration, debates have emerged over whether the country is moving in a new direction or gradually repeating patterns from the past. The New Order refers to the era of President Soeharto’s rule, which lasted from 1966 until 1998. While often remembered for economic development and political stability, it was also marked by restrictions on civil liberties, military dominance over public life, and deeply entrenched corruption.
Regardless of where one stands in these debates, they reminded me of Entrok, a novel by Okky Madasari. Rather than offering answers about contemporary Indonesia, the novel invites readers to understand what life was like when state power reached into the most ordinary aspects of everyday life. Reading it feels like revisiting a history whose echoes may still resonate today.
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Rahayu and the Danger of Being Labelled a “Communist”
Before becoming a story about power, religion, and injustice under the New Order, Entrok begins with something remarkably ordinary: a bra.
In Javanese, entrok refers to a bra, which, for many poor families at the time, was considered a luxury rather than a necessity. For Marni, the novel’s protagonist, owning an entrok is about far more than appearance. It becomes a symbol of dignity, independence, and her determination to escape the poverty that has shaped her life since childhood.
That simple dream motivates Marni to earn her own income. In a society where women were expected to remain within traditional domestic roles, she courageously takes on work usually reserved for men and gradually transforms her family’s future.
Yet as her life progresses, Marni realises that achieving financial independence does not necessarily bring freedom. Under the shadow of the New Order regime, both she and her daughter, Rahayu, face far greater challenges: abuses of power, religious conflict, and an atmosphere of fear that permeates everyday life.
One of the novel’s most striking moments occurs when Rahayu is labelled a “communist.” Ironically, she is not accused because she belongs to the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), but because she dares to challenge arbitrary actions by the authorities and refuses to conform to the political expectations imposed by the regime.
Under the New Order, being labelled a communist was never merely a political accusation—it had the power to destroy a person’s entire life.

Following the events of 1965, an estimated hundreds of thousands to more than one million people were killed during the mass anti-communist violence. Victims included not only those accused of being affiliated with the PKI, but also ethnic Chinese Indonesians, artists, intellectuals, activists, and ordinary civilians suspected of sympathising with leftist movements or being perceived as threats by the authorities. To this day, these events remain one of the largest and most contested human rights tragedies in Indonesian history.
Many historians argue that the anti-communist campaign was not solely about ideological conflict. It also became part of the political transition that facilitated the transfer of power from President Sukarno to the Indonesian military, ultimately paving the way for Soeharto’s New Order. Although this interpretation continues to be debated, it helps explain why the label “communist” became such an effective tool for silencing dissent and legitimising state repression.
The Politics of Scapegoating

One of Entrok‘s greatest strengths lies in how Okky Madasari portrays state violence through two generations of women.
Marni experiences economic oppression. Despite lifting herself out of poverty through relentless hard work, she cannot escape extortion by local officials, illegal levies, and the abuse of power that had become embedded in everyday life under the New Order.
Rahayu, meanwhile, suffers political persecution. Simply for questioning state authorities and refusing to conform politically, she is branded a communist and stripped of her sense of security.
Through the lives of mother and daughter, Okky illustrates that authoritarian power extends beyond controlling the economy. It also shapes how people think and speak, and ultimately determines who is worthy of being labelled an enemy of the state.
Interestingly, this pattern extends beyond Rahayu’s story. Following the events of 1965, accusations of communism were widely used to stigmatise individuals perceived as threats to the regime. As the New Order collapsed in 1998, some scholars have identified a similar pattern of scapegoating, in which public anger fueled by economic and political crisis was directed toward particular minority groups, most notably ethnic Chinese Indonesians.
Although the historical contexts and causes of these events differ, both demonstrate how minority communities—or groups constructed as “the enemy”—can become targets whenever a regime faces significant pressure.
Scapegoating in Times of Crisis
The concept of scapegoating was developed in social psychology to explain how prejudice and discrimination emerge during periods of social, political, or economic stress.
The theory suggests that when societies experience crisis, frustration is often redirected toward marginalised groups. Instead of addressing the structural causes of their problems, people may unfairly blame minorities based on race, religion, ethnicity, or other identities, even when those groups bear no responsibility for the crisis itself.
Discussions about scapegoating continue to surface in Indonesia today. President Prabowo Subianto’s administration has faced a number of challenges, including allegations surrounding the government’s US$15 billion Free Nutritious Meals Program, which has been described by some media outlets as one of Indonesia’s largest corruption scandals in recent years, amid accusations of graft and mismanagement.
At the same time, the government designated the spread of LGBTQ culture as a “non-military threat” under Presidential Regulation No. 111 of 2025.
Meanwhile, Human Rights Watch has reported increasing harassment of LGBTQ university students, particularly during Pride Month 2026, along with multiple cases of physical violence against transgender women. Some observers argue that these developments illustrate how minority groups can once again become targets of public stigma during periods marked by broader political and economic challenges.
Without suggesting that different historical periods are identical, Entrok reminds us to remain critical whenever a particular group begins to be portrayed as the source of a nation’s problems. Rather than accepting such narratives at face value, perhaps we should ask a more fundamental question:
Who benefits when public attention is redirected toward a common enemy?
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