That night, the searing pain that spread across Andrie Yunus’s face and body was not merely a physical attack on a human rights activist from KontraS. The corrosive liquid thrown by that security officer was the starkest metaphor for the state of our politics today. That acid not only burned the skin of a critical citizen, but is systematically dissolving the very foundations of our democratic edifice.
The acid attack on Andrie Yunus is a death knell for public safety. When security actors—whose constitutional mandate is to protect and serve—transform into the primary source of terror, the social contract between the state and its people has reached its lowest point. A healthy democracy requires a public sphere free from fear. However, when criticism is met with permanent physical disfigurement, we are not moving toward progress, but rather sliding rapidly back into the cold, repressive jungle of authoritarianism.
The Wounded and the Rotten
We often get caught up in the procedural aspects of elections: ballot boxes filled on time, high voter turnout, and grand inauguration ceremonies. Yet history shows that procedure without substance is a fast track to tyranny. In their masterpiece, How Democracies Die, Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt remind us that today’s democracies rarely die at the hands of generals with tanks in the streets. They die slowly through the legal and structured weakening of key institutions. The dousing with acid is an extreme form of such weakening—a physical attempt to silence voices that refuse to submit.
Our democracy is currently suffering from advanced-stage burns. A government that no longer adheres to human rights principles tends to view critical citizens not as dialogue partners or a “loyal opposition,” but as systemic anomalies that must be subdued. These methods of subjugation are becoming increasingly brutal and varied—ranging from digital surveillance and legal intimidation to direct physical attacks targeting bodily integrity.
If the state fails to guarantee safety for those who speak the truth, then democracy’s promises of prosperity are nothing but empty rhetoric. Without the freedom to criticize without fear of attack, power will grow into a cancer that devours itself due to the absence of honest checks and balances from society.
Without the Anchor of Human Rights
The collapse of our democracy stems from a single pathology: the lust for power unanchored by human rights. When political stability is valued more highly than the integrity of citizens, the law becomes merely a weapon for the rulers, not a shield for the vulnerable.
This aligns with what Hannah Arendt described in *The Origins of Totalitarianism*. Arendt explains that one of the early signs of the collapse of the civic sphere is when the state makes citizens feel isolated, fearful, and powerless in the face of a colossal machinery of power. Violence against activists is a message from those in power to the people: “Be silent, or you will suffer the same fate.” This is what is referred to as the “corrosive acid of democracy”—a corrosive effort to erase the true face of popular sovereignty and replace it with a mask of power scarred by wounds and fear.
Furthermore, we view this phenomenon as a form of democracy without the “demos.” The state seeks to run the government as if it were democratic, yet without the vocal involvement of the people. It desires silent compliance. In reality, it is crucial for the state and its rulers to safeguard alternative sources of information and freedom of expression. If a critical voice from civil society—a vital source of information—is silenced with acid, then the pillars of checks and balances are shattered.
Guardian State or Predator?
The case of the acid attack on Andrie Yunus challenges the state’s position within the social contract. Drawing on Thomas Hobbes’s thought in Leviathan, citizens surrender part of their freedom in exchange for a guarantee of security. However, when the state, through its instruments of violence, crushes critical citizens, that moral contract is nullified, and the state transforms from a Guardian into a Predator.
In many instances of criticism and mass protests, security forces no longer work for the public interest but to safeguard the accumulation of power. The acid that touches an activist’s skin is a physical manifestation of predatory policies. This sends the message that the law is no longer the sovereign authority but merely a subordinate servant to the narrow interests of the elite.
The state continues to carry out electoral procedures, yet fails to protect civil liberties and human rights. When public taxes are used to fund physical intimidation against the people themselves, the state is essentially committing constitutional suicide. All of this amounts to little more than a shift toward a dictatorship in disguise.
Predatory states use fear and state-sponsored impunity as their primary tools of control. If the masterminds behind attacks on activists remain untouched, the law will merely become a risk management tool for those in power. We must demand the restoration of the state’s role as a protector of its citizens, for without safeguarding the lives of its people, the state is nothing more than an armed mob with a stamp of legality.
Healing
Healing democracy from the corrosive forces that have wounded it must begin by making human rights the primary foundation for governing the state. It is not enough to merely reform bureaucratic rules or improve laws regarding information technology. What is most important is not merely a moral promise that no citizen should be harmed or injured simply for criticizing the government. Open legal proceedings in the public courts against elite planners and decision-makers must be absolutely guaranteed.
The case of violence against Andrie Yunus must serve as a lesson so that similar incidents do not recur in the future. No one should ever again feel above the law simply because they hold a certain position, possess weapons, or wear a particular uniform. A healthy democracy can never function properly if its citizens constantly live in fear of speaking out.
Andrie Yunus felt the physical effects of those injuries for a very long time. If we, as a society, remain silent while this violence crushes the courage of human rights activists, then our national identity is at risk of being lost. We may still live in a country called Indonesia, but the values of justice within it have been destroyed, overshadowed by fear.
We must remember that freedom is not a gift from those in power. Freedom is a right of every person that must be continuously safeguarded and fought for, even in the face of threats of acid attacks and other forms of violence. Our fear is a manifestation of the wounds of democracy; if left unaddressed, these wounds will fester and ultimately kill our democracy. []
Usep Hasan Sadikin
Researcher at the Association for Elections and Democracy (Perludem)