During his address at the United Nations General Assembly, President Prabowo Subianto reinstated Indonesia's longstanding diplomatic role as a strong proponent of solidarity with the oppressed. He denounced the conflict in Gaza, advocated for civilian protection, and also asserted that peace is unattainable without a two-state solution. These words were familiar to Indonesians. Since the Sukarno era, Palestine has been very pivotal to Indonesia's self-perception in global politics. In 1945, Indonesia waged its anti-colonial war; during the 1950s, Sukarno integrated Palestine into this struggle. Supporting Palestine constituted the continuation of the incomplete endeavour of anti-imperialism.

But foreign policy is never only about ideals. Prabowo’s speech reflects a deeper tension that has always shaped Indonesia’s position in global politics: the clash between moral identity and economic interdependence. Indonesia does not recognise Israel diplomatically, but trade between the two countries has quietly grown. According to Asia-Pacific Solidarity Net, citing Kompas and Indonesia’s Ministry of Trade, bilateral exchanges rose from US$187.7 million in 2023 to US$237.9 million in 2024. As of July 2025, trade had attained US$165.7 million, reflecting an increase of nearly 19 percent compared to the corresponding period the previous year. According to OEC data, Indonesia's exports to Israel in 2023 primarily consist of leather footwear (US$39 million) as well as palm oil (US$23 million), whereas Israel provides irrigation technologies and specialised industrial products. These figures diverge from UN Comtrade due to a significant portion of trade being conducted indirectly via third countries.

Numbers alone do not tell the story. What they show is a structural dilemma. Indonesia continues to denounce Israel at the political level, yet participates in global markets in which Israel is firmly integrated. The contradiction is not an accident or hypocrisy. It is built into the way middle powers operate in a global economy shaped by capitalism and interdependence. The Gaza war makes this dilemma more visible. At home, public opinion is firmly pro-Palestinian, rooted in Islamic solidarity and civil society activism. Any open move toward normalization with Israel would trigger a domestic backlash. At the same time, Indonesia cannot fully disengage from global markets where Israel is embedded in supply chains, from agriculture to technology and even defense. Prabowo’s speech, therefore, functions as dual signaling. To domestic audiences and Muslim partners abroad, it reaffirmed Indonesia’s loyalty to Palestine. To international markets, it signaled that Indonesia will remain pragmatic, unwilling to sacrifice its economic ambitions for ideological purity.

This duality is not only specific to Indonesia. China and India have also maintained extensive relations with Israel while still voicing rhetorical support for Palestinians at the same time. In similar manner, several Arab governments have normalized relations through the Abraham Accords without abandoning rhetorical solidarity. Indonesia’s position is distinctive because it preserves a formal separation: trade without recognition, engagement without normalization. For now, this formula allows Jakarta to hold onto its moral identity while quietly engaging in the global economy.

Prabowo’s emphasis on the United Nations adds another layer. For Indonesia, multilateral institutions remain the stage where its moral authority carries weight. Unlike great powers, Jakarta lacks coercive tools. Its influence comes from legitimacy, its history of anti-colonial struggle and its position as the world’s largest Muslim-majority democracy. By arguing that no country can feel safe without a strong UN, Prabowo was defending the very institution that allows Indonesia to amplify its voice. Yet this reliance comes at a time when the UN itself is paralyzed by deep divisions among the major powers, raising doubts about whether moral authority grounded in multilateralism can still make a difference.

At the regional level, the same limitations are evident. ASEAN has consistently refrained from including the Israel–Palestine conflict on its agenda, constrained by the principles of consensus and non-interference. Furthermore, it has not undertaken decisive action regarding its own crises, such as the situation in Myanmar. By participating actively in the proceedings in New York, Prabowo has signaled Indonesia's intention to transcend ASEAN’s constraints and establish itself as a middle power within the broader framework of the Global South. Historically, this delicate balance goes beyond more than just simple diplomatic tactics. Sukarno’s support for Palestine in the 1950s was part of a wide range global vision that also led to the Bandung Conference as well as the Non-Aligned Movement. Such language of solidarity continues to influence Jakarta’s diplomatic stance. Nevertheless, the global landscape of 2025 is not the same as that of 1955. The forces of global capitalism have linked even the states that are considered very resistant to globalisation into complex webs of interdependence. Indonesia is thus unable to evade the structural realities, that its moral commitments often clash with its economic interests.

The danger for Prabowo is that this equilibrium cannot last forever. If Jakarta leans too heavily on rhetoric without matching it with action, it risks being seen as hollow. If it moves too far toward pragmatic engagement, it risks betraying the very identity that underpins its foreign policy credibility. For now, Prabowo succeeded in keeping the balance: moral clarity in words, silent pragmatism in practice. But balance is not permanence. The rise in trade with Israel and the persistence of Palestinian suffering will continue to test Indonesia’s credibility at home and abroad. Prabowo’s speech did not reveal hypocrisy. It revealed the structural dilemma of Indonesia’s place in the world: caught between the memory of anti-imperialism and the imperatives of global capitalism, between solidarity and trade, between identity and necessity. The challenge ahead is whether Jakarta can transform this contradiction into strategy. If it can, Indonesia may define itself as a middle power that embodies the dilemmas of the Global South while finding creative ways to navigate them. If it cannot, Prabowo’s words at the UN will be remembered less as the renewal of Sukarno’s legacy than as the moment when Indonesia’s moral authority began to fade under the weight of trade.

Structural Contradictions and the Future of Indonesia’s Moral Authority

From a critical perspective, these contradictions are not incidental. They reveal the interplay of ideas, institutions, as well as material forces that defines Indonesia’s international role. The idea of anti-imperialism continues to provide legitimacy and also identity, grounding Indonesia’s place within the Global South. Multilateral institutions such as the UN offer the arena on which this identity can be performed, enabling Jakarta to strongly amplify its voice despite its lack of coercive capabilities. But beneath these layers lies the fabric of global capitalism which ties Indonesia into networks of trade and dependency that make consistent ideological positions highly impossible. The criticism of Prabowo’s speech was therefore not only about the weakness of a particular text. It was about the dissonance between the image Indonesia projects abroad and the realities that shape its behaviour. Civil society, students, and NGOs voiced this discontent precisely because they sensed that the gap is structural, not superficial.

The danger for Prabowo is that equilibrium cannot last forever. If Indonesia leans too heavily on rhetoric without more action, its credibility will appear hollow. Should it lean too far in the direction of pragmatic engagement it runs the danger of losing the identity which has maintained its moral authority since independence. The balance between solidarity as speech and pragmatism as action may sustain Jakarta in the short term, but the conditions of global capitalism and regional paralysis make it increasingly unstable. The challenge is not only whether Prabowo can craft better speeches but whether Jakarta can transform contradiction into strategy. Yet, this means finding ways to align the memory of anti-imperialism with the structural realities of global interdependence. Indonesia’s voice carries weight when it draws on its history as the world’s largest Muslim-majority democracy that fought its way out of colonial subjugation. However in a fractured international order, moral authority lacking strategic coherence runs the risk of being rapidly worn away. To maintain credibility, Indonesia has to show that its solidarity is not merely symbolic. This may involve taking the lead in multilateral forums, supporting humanitarian mechanisms that address Gaza, and participating in South-South cooperation that gives substance to anti-imperialist rhetoric. Otherwise, this speech of Prabowo itself will be remembered less as a continuation of Soekarno’s legacy and more as a moment when Indonesia’s moral authority was exposed as fragile under the weight of trade, dependency, as well as institutional inertia.

What emerges from the UN address is thus not hypocrisy but the reality of Indonesia’s structural condition. It stands between past and present, between ideals and pragmatism, between solidarity and necessity. Its foreign policy embodies the dilemmas of the Global South in a world order shaped by uneven development and interdependence. The speech revealed both the enduring power of anti-colonial ideas and the constraints of capitalist structures. It also revealed the scepticism of a domestic audience unwilling to accept rhetoric without substance. Whether Prabowo can transform this contradiction into a coherent strategy will determine if Indonesia continues to project itself as a meaningful moral actor or if its authority erodes under the pressures of the global order it inhabits.