Make Orwell’s 1984 Fiction Again, please.

Sounds like X’s campaign, isn’t it?

Spies emerge from shadows, while power seekers manipulate facts in a world that enchants its inhabitants. George Orwell's novel “1984” displays a frightening vision of darkness that continues to haunt every reader.

"Big Brother is watching you," he warned. The TNI bill looms over Indonesia like a sinister storm cloud, threatening to resurrect old military ghosts and invade our digital lives.

The New Order rules did not envelop me during birth as I entered the world in 1995 after Suharto's control established itself in Indonesia. The 1998 Reformasi riots, which occurred during my youth, left a lasting traumatic mark on my early development and shaped my perspective on instability and social change.

I can still taste the suffocating dread, waiting for my dad to weave his way home from Taman Anggrek to Pamulang, forced to detour through Karawaci to dodge the mobs torching anything red, like our car.

That wasn't just chaos; it was a society choking on the dual role of ABRI, where somebody silenced somebody, trust was a fairytale, and every stranger turned into a living CCTV camera.

The printed pages of Orwell's 1984 generated a new version that emerged as a living reality through smoke and noise. Through this massive, over-the-top journey, I will connect my narration to Orwell's warnings while pulling in famous authors to aggressively show that this dystopian horror belongs in literature alone.

"People in 1900 Paris"

Orwell's Ghost Haunting Indonesia

Orwell once snarled, "Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past." It's a razor-sharp truth, a blade that slices through the haze of Indonesia's latest chapter. The TNI bill, a freshly minted law bloating the military's reach into civilian turf; possibly even cyberspace feels like a loaded gun cocked at our collective memory.

Back in '98, I didn't have the history books memorized, but I lived the fallout: a nation sick to death of ABRI's double life as both shield and sledgehammer. I was three, too small to understand the politics, but old enough to feel the fear in the air as my dad navigated a city when it’s on fire.

According to present legislation, the Indonesian military might establish itself as the ultimate controller of online content, which could result in our forced consumption of their controlled version of reality. This legislation resembles the New Order's return as its shadows form like a vulture over free speech while persisting in silence becomes a necessary survival skill.

The "Telescreen" machine from 1984 is a non-stop staring device, which Orwell described as "never fully shut off."

In '98, technology was not futuristic like a sci-fi screen; instead, it existed in the distrustful neighbors and the streets. First, when we got home, we checked the door and set the locks. Nighttime became a curtain that hid our faces from spies. Such was her constant fear of the presence of enemies that her words became a whisper.

Today, that telescreen's the internet, a sprawling web ripe for the picking. If the military sinks its talons into it, we're all Winston Smith, shivering as he mutters, "Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters inside your skull." The remaining space for free thought could disappear when cyberspace allows radicals to play.

From my spot by the window, I observed as my heart raced because I didn't know if my dad could escape the burning flames. I cannot help but wonder if humanity now endures another period of waiting because Freedom has disappeared while Big Brother maintains an eternal watch over us.

TNI bill functions more than legislation because it houses numerous potential dangers. Under Suharto, the Indonesian military operated as a political force in civilian affairs by supporting favored business people while crushing public demonstrations. The Reformasi aimed to extinguish the military beast, but now we witness its return.

If they control the digital realm, what's next? Orwell warned us: "The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth." That's not some abstract fear, it's a playbook we've seen before. In '98, the lies were about "stability" while Jakarta burned. Today, they could be about "security" while our screens become shackles.

Support from Fellow Dystopian Titans

Orwell's not the only prophet in this grim ensemble. Aldous Huxley's “Brave New World” slinks in with a subtler, creepier terror. He sneered, “a really efficient totalitarian state would be one in which the all-powerful executive of political bosses and their army of managers control a population of slaves who do not have to be coerced, because they love their servitude.”

We resisted in '98 using stones alongside anger and intense determination as my father avoided rioters, proving he didn't accept their actions. When the TNI maintains control over digital communication, we may not be able to detect when chains are coming toward us.

Huxley envisioned a society unfit for revolution because a carefully structured media diet and organized news would anesthetize its citizens beyond caring. The end that arrived was silent, although it felt different from my childhood fears while being equally terminal.

Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale" piles on the dread with a vengeance. She wrote, "Better never means better for everyone... It always means worse for some.".

The TNI bill might dangle "safety" like a carrot, but who's eating the stick? In '98, families like mine were caught in the crossfire while the powerful pulled levers from cushy offices.

I remember my dad's tired eyes when he finally walked through the door—relief mixed with something heavier. Today, it could be all of us, watching the fragile Freedom we clawed out of Reformasi get handed to a military that's tasted control before and savored it. Atwood's world isn't far off when power trades liberty for order—someone always pays the price.

Then there's Philip K. Dick's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?", where reality itself gets opaque. He reflected: "The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use them."

The TNI's control over the cyber domain alters societal language, ultimately changing the meaning of truth to align with their claims.

In 1998, the call for reform inspired hope and action, uniting many in a common cause. Today, the term "stability" has become increasingly complex and sometimes misleading, leading us to question its significance for our future. Literary warnings reflect Indonesia's current trajectory.

Why Fiction Should Remain Fiction, Damn It!

1984 is a shriek in the dark, not a how-to guide. Orwell raged, "The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command."

In '98, I saw the evidence—fire everywhere, fear etched into my mom's face—and no one could gaslight me into thinking it wasn't real. I was a toddler, but I panicked when it gripped us. If the TNI snatches cyberspace without a leash, we're back there, second-guessing our senses as they chant, "War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength."

I didn't live through Orba's peak but breathed its bitter aftertaste. We can't let that monster rise again after we've fought to bury it. Orba is not inevitable. Indonesia's got a pulse—civil society, the press, everyday people like me who remember '98's cost. We can scream for accountability and demand the TNI bill doesn't become a blank check for power.

Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451" hands us a torch: "We need not be let alone. We need to be bothered once in a while."

In '98, we were so troubled that we toppled a regime. I wasn't out on the streets, but I felt the tremors in my bones. Now, we need to stay alert, keep that fire alive, and not allow this bill to turn us into Orwell's drones. Bradbury's Guy Montag burned books, but then he fought to save them. We can fight to save our voices before they turn to ashes.

What's at stake isn't just an abstract concept of "freedom." It's a reversal of the chaos of '98; not a struggle between mobs and the military but a quiet surrender to an invisible system. Orwell's Party didn't merely observe; they altered reality until resistance became a distant memory.

If the TNI gains that power, my dad's detour through Karawaci becomes a metaphor for us dodging the truth instead of facing the flames. We have a history—bloody, messy, and hard-won—that reminds us what can happen when power goes unchecked. Reformasi wasn't perfect, but it was our fight. We can't trade it for a telescreen and a salute.

Wrap It Up

1984 has to stay fiction—a ghost story, not our destiny. Indonesia battled too hard—through '98's blood, tears, and detours—to let Orwell's shadow slink back via the TNI bill.

I didn't grow up in Orba's chokehold, but I felt its echoes, waiting for my dad to outrun the riots, praying our red car didn't light up the night. Big Brother's got no place here, not in our streets or screens.

Orwell nailed it: "Freedom is the Freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows." That's our line; if we lose it, the fiction's dead, and the nightmare's just begun.

If the current government thinks siccing the military on society—whether by plopping them into minister seats or letting them strangle cyberspace—is some grand plan to keep the nation stable, then prove it. Show us that it works without ripping away our Freedom, cyberspace, voices, and right to create. Don't turn us into pawns in your game; we've burned too much and lost too much to let that happen again. I was three when Jakarta was in turmoil, but I grew up in its shadow—I refuse to let my children grow up in a dystopia.