The author is the Deputy Head of Convening at Think Policy and a coordinator of educational platform Kenapa Harus Peduli. This article reflects the author’s own analysis and views and does not necessarily represent those of The Reformist.
We all remember ‘musyawarah’ (deliberation) from our civic education (‘PPKn’) class in elementary school. It is the embodiment of Pancasila’s fourth principle: democracy guided by the wisdom of deliberating representatives. It was not hard to believe, at least for me, because I’ve seen it everywhere.
I remember seeing it last month at the dining table of a friend’s family, deliberating on every familial issue – from Eid celebration menu to inheritance distribution – until they reached a consensus. A few nights ago, I saw it again on the way home from work: a group of men sitting in a circle inside a security post in a Central Jakarta neighborhood, deliberating on the reparation process of a local water channel.
I am pretty sure that you would see a similar picture in every other neighborhood across the archipelago: different elements of society finding consensus under different circumstances.
Musyawarah is indeed the beating heart of Indonesia’s democracy. But if deliberation is innate to Indonesia’s culture, making collective decisions every day in different layers of society, why does it feel distant, like it is missing from formal policymaking processes?
Regular citizens should be involved at the beginning of a policymaking process. But what often happens instead is that the public is deliberately (pun intended) involved at the end of the process. The public is thus not considered the ‘subject’ of a public policy creation – despite being right there in the name – but rather the ‘object’ of it. They only need to be ‘informed’ that a policy decision has been made.
Well, it’s no wonder that in the past few years alone, Indonesia saw constant public demonstrations protesting various policies affecting regular people’s lives, from the increase of value-added tax (VAT, or ‘PPN’) to costly flagship programs (infamously, the free meal program and Kopdes) that led to budget cuts in other essential sectors. The public is directly affected by these policies, but they are never involved in the deliberations!
So how can we bring deliberation back into our formal policymaking process?
A failing aspirational model
Before answering that question, it’s critical that we first look at the problem. Let me argue about this irony: I believe that the cause of the missing deliberation processes lies in the example I’ve observed before: we are too ‘reliant’ on our representation at the deliberation table. We let other people, our representatives, do the discussion for us. Well, but isn’t that the very essence of representative democracy? Hear me out.
Typically, local deliberations are limited to a specific group of people: mostly men (older men) who hold positions in the community (they are either the neighborhood head or their confidants). We trust them in making decisions about our neighborhood. This habit of ‘entrusting’ deliberation to select groups of people eventually carries over to the formal level of public policymaking.
This irony is reflected in Indonesia’s multi-stakeholder consultation forum for development planning (‘Musrenbang’). Musrenbang is, aspirationally, what citizen participation in a democracy should look like: through this forum, citizens can participate in policy formulation at the city or regency level. It comes in a tiered system, starting at the neighborhood unit (RW) level, then the village, district, and finally the city/regency level.
However, various research indicates inconsistencies in citizens’ participation and deliberation through musrenbang. A 2021 paper from the Australian National University found that although most of these forums were able to consolidate development plans from the village up to the national level, musrenbang is typically only attended by a handful of people, usually local elites, such as the village heads, or people who have been handpicked by these local elites.
Another study, conducted in Bandung in 2022, also found several systemic injustices in the implementation of musrenbang: from the dominant role of local elites and overly ceremonial, lengthy agendas to citizens being unable to propose their own agendas, instead having to consider only the policy options already provided by the government.
So, if the aspirational model our democracy adopted has somewhat failed to provide avenues for public participation in policymaking, what can we do?
Let’s reimagine how other forms of musyawarah can be implemented so regular Indonesians can actively participate in policymaking.
Introducing: Citizens’ assembly
If any local government wants to experiment, it can adopt a different approach: the citizens’ assembly. It does not have to replace musrenbang; it can complement it.
A citizens’ assembly, or a mini-public, is a deliberative and representative approach to policymaking. A group of citizens is randomly selected to join the assembly, where they will deliberate on a specific policy dilemma posed by the government. Harris (2019) argued that a citizen’s assembly (or a mini public) is a blend of participatory and deliberative democracy. It allows citizens to engage more directly in policymaking, from agenda-setting and decision-making to policy implementation.
In the 2023 De Gruyter Handbook of Citizens’ Assemblies, there are three main principles of a citizens’ assembly: deliberative, representative, and public influence. Deliberative means the assembly prioritizes discussion and deliberation among citizens. Representative means it ensures every part of the public is appropriately represented. Public influence means the assembly’s results should be action-oriented and could impact the public.
Although they seem similar, a citizens’ assembly and a musrenbang differ in three fundamental ways.
First (and most exciting) is how participants are selected. Unlike musrenbang, whose participants are open to the public but often filled by local elites, a citizens’ assembly employs a ‘sortition’ method to select its participants – it’s like a lottery, similar to how juries are selected for jury duty. The composition of participants for each assembly is determined to reflect the real conditions under which the assembly takes place, ensuring proportional representation; this process is missing in musrenbang, where intentional participant selection is undetermined.
Assembly member recruitment can take various forms. Some citizens’ assemblies use sortition based on government citizen records. Others use stratified random sampling. Some assemblies also let people self-nominate to join the possible assembly before being selected.
To further ensure inclusion, some assemblies also intentionally invite marginalized groups. The key feature of this randomized selection is to ensure proportionality and include ordinary people in policymaking processes.
Second (and probably the most fundamental) is our role as citizens. Instead of confirming or providing feedback on predetermined policies, in a citizens’ assembly our role is to address a policy dilemma the government faces. This way, participants can bring their own agenda — things that actually matter to them — into consideration when formulating policy.
Third, another core feature of a citizens’ assembly is the information-gathering phase. Before deliberating on the policy dilemma, assembly members can learn and unlearn about the issue from academic experts, stakeholders, or even witnesses. This information-gathering and learning phase helps assembly members better understand the policy trade-offs of each decision they will make.
All three features mentioned above position mini public or citizens’ assembly as a better way to involve the public in policy processes. In addition, best practices already exist worldwide, with governments implementing citizens’ assemblies at the local and national levels.
Where it has been done
Recently, a citizens’ assembly was held in Kerewan, The Gambia, to address an interconnected policrisis of environmental degradation that threatens their agricultural livelihoods and food security. Assembly members were selected through a sortition method that included a raffle, door-to-door visits in six villages, and open-source software, selecting 30 Kerewan citizens.
For seven days, these 30 assembly members gathered to deliberate and answer a question: how can they restore their lands and natural habitats while creating better livelihoods and economic empowerment? They mapped out problems faced in their respective villages and deliberated on what went into their recommendations. They then delivered their recommendations to the district governor, deputy governor, and a member of the national assembly.
In 2004, citizens of British Columbia, Canada, held an assembly to discuss their elections. Selecting 158 assembly members from a pool of 15,000 invited from across Canada, the assembly ran for around 10 months. The assembly also created space for First Nations citizens by adding two representatives. During the learning phase, guided by subject-matter experts—including political scientists from the University of British Columbia—assembly members developed shared values before moving to the public hearing phase and deliberating.
The assembly resulted in a change to the voting system in the province of British Columbia, giving the public a chance to decide the electoral system without intervention from political parties and ensuring the players are not in charge of setting the rules of the game.
Citizens’ assembly isn’t that groundbreaking, actually
However ‘radical’ a citizens’ assembly may sound, it is actually not. This policymaking method is not inherently groundbreaking. It is already rooted in our culture of deliberation. Indonesians have also been fond of representation – just that this time, we determined it through a lottery to ensure fairer representation.
This approach is also more politically beneficial for the government, as it can lend legitimacy to the policies it wishes to create. This is useful especially if they are about to enact an unpopular policy. Instead of having to bear the burden of the policy, the government can let its citizens decide on their own: if the result of the assembly is in line with the initial unpopular proposal, it will be an act of endorsement from the people; if the result is different from the initial proposal, the government will have one that is formulated by the public already.
Let’s imagine another real-life case as an example for a possible citizens’ assembly in Indonesia.
For the Jakarta provincial government, a possible assembly question would be about implementing an increase in Transjakarta fares. Since its creation in 2004, the government has kept Transjakarta fares at Rp 3,500 for more than twenty years. However, with rising fuel prices and the addition of new routes, the question arises: should the Jakarta government increase Transjakarta fares?
To assemble the minipublic, Jakarta can issue an open invitation for people to register for the lottery to be randomly selected to participate in the assembly. Alternatively, it can use available data from the Population and Civil Registry Agency to invite citizens to become an assembly members. They can assemble up to 100 citizens for the assembly, proportionally representing the six administrative cities of the province (including Kepulauan Seribu), age distribution, and gender.
Because we understand that a trade-off in increasing the Transjakarta fare is its implications to citizens’ economic condition, representatives from the Jaringan Rakyat Miskin Kota – a civil society network prominent for advocating for the city’s poor population – can be invited to be the speaker for the learning phase, in addition to the City planning experts, the Regional Planning Agency (Bappeda Jakarta), the Jakarta Transportation Agency, and PT Transjakarta. The learning phase is important because the assembly must understand what are the impacts of increasing and not increasing the fare, and what are the examples–including from abroad, if any–that Jakarta can learn from.
The result of the assembly might not be a simple yes–or–no answer. In fact, it should not be a simple answer. The assembly must be able to provide answers to questions pertaining to how to best approach the dilemma of to increase or not to increase the enduring Transjakarta fare. For example, who will bear the fiscal burden, if the fare is not increased? How would it work, should the fare be increased? Will the government give a special treatment to a certain group of demographics? How will it affect the development of new busways?
At the end of the day, Indonesia is a nation used to aligning our individuality with collective interest. Unfortunately, the elitist policymaking process is undermining this culture. This article is not only a reflection on our nation’s culture but also a call to action for the government: are you ready to truly involve citizens in the policymaking process? Deliberation is indeed lengthy, but by the time we reach common ground, it will all be worth it.
