On 2 October, 26 political figures took an oath in the State Palace to give the president unvarnished counsel as members of the Presidential Advisory Board (‘Wantimpres’). The press predictably focused on spectacles, like political critic Rocky Gerung — famous for his often controversial commentaries on the Joko “Jokowi” Widodo administration — now stepping into the corridors of power he once ridiculed. Sure, Rocky’s appointment makes a striking headline, but the media circus surrounding a single maverick obscured a far more consequential story unfolding in the room:
Why does President Prabowo Subianto need 26 more advisors to tell him how to govern?
Law No. 19/2006 established the Presidential Advisory Board as a deliberately lean body of nine distinguished figures. But a 2024 amendment (Law No. 64/2024) scrapped that limit, and a 2026 Presidential Decree ballooned the structure into a clunky apparatus comprising a chair, a deputy chair, a secretary, and twenty-three members. Even if one interprets this expansion as a well-intentioned attempt to satisfy the constitutional mandate that the president be advised, the advisory does not exist in a vacuum.
President Prabowo Subianto already appointed ten Special Advisors (‘penasihat khusus’) for politics, economy, national security, defense, energy, healthcare, hajj affairs, communications, civic technology, and labor affairs. And then there’s the National Economic Council (‘DEN’) — an eight-member economic advisory council chaired by Luhut Binsar Pandjaitan, who sits on both bodies. If we remove the overlaps and count each individual once, we get 43 prominent figures with formal, state-funded appointments explicitly tasked with advising one person.
Prabowo’s advisory crowd works alongside the largest cabinet in the country’s history: an executive branch of 49 cabinet ministers and more than 50 deputy ministers. Add the Chief of Staff, the Cabinet Secretary, the State Secretary, and dozens of government bodies to this tally, and you get 166 people in the president’s cabinet.
It takes a leap of imagination to believe a specific national policy decision genuinely improves after running through a gauntlet of over 100 ministers, deputies, and advisors. It is even harder to picture the logistical reality of a working meeting where 43 advisors are given the floor to debate complex state affairs.
Then there’s the burden on the public treasury. Presidential Regulation No. 15/2026 fixed each advisory board member’s monthly salary at Rp 76.5 million, paired with ministerial-level facilities such as official vehicles, healthcare, and housing allowances. So it’s roughly Rp 918 million per year per advisor before taxes.
For the Board alone, the basic compensation package approaches Rp 24 billion annually, excluding the substantial operational costs of dedicated secretariats, travel budgets, security details, and office facilities. Under the 2007 regulation, an advisory board member received a monthly stipend of around Rp 17.5 million.
An additional dozens of billion per year for just the Presidential Advisory Board would already be difficult to justify under the best economic circumstances. But this becomes indefensible against the broader policy landscape.
The administration approved the raise after beginning its term with a sweeping austerity decree that ordered cuts to public spending totaling hundreds of trillions of rupiah. Civil servants were instructed to cut down operational expenses, cancel seminars, and conserve office stationery. The government constrained fiscal transfers to local governments and ordered state universities, regional hospitals, and public infrastructure funds to absorb significant cuts. The public was asked to sacrifice for fiscal discipline. Meanwhile, the palace quadrupled the cost of its counsel.
Inherently, advisory councils are not problematic. A president who actively seeks diverse expert perspectives outside his immediate political party is desirable. But when his advisory circle reaches this size, the public has reasonable grounds to ask whether these appointments are meant to produce sound policy or serve as a comfortable landing pad for retired political elites. A quick review of the appointee list — like a former coordinating minister and retired police and military generals — might suggest these positions often serve as political consolations rather than functional think tanks.
If these 43 advisors are to justify their drain on public resources, their work must be subjected to public scrutiny. Taxpayers have a right to know the basic operational metrics of these councils. How frequently do the advisors convene as a collective body? Do these advisors produce concrete, written recommendations, and if so, are those documents accessible to lawmakers in the House of Representatives, journalists, and the public? What measurable policy outputs have they produced during their tenure?
These are not trivial; they are central to executive governance. Major national initiatives under Prabowo’s administration have frequently arrived as abrupt public pronouncements rather than visible output of structured policy deliberation.
We don’t dispute the President’s right to seek counsel. But taxpayer-funded advice should leave a public trail. The Presidential Advisory Board, the Special Advisors, and the National Economic Council should publish regular reports on their meeting agendas, the policy questions referred to them, and executive summaries of the advice they delivered. Strategic intelligence and sensitive national security discussions can remain confidential, but the daily output of state-funded advisory bodies should never be treated as a secret.
The public deserves to know what counsel their President receives and exactly what they pay for.