What Does It Mean to Be a Hero?

On November 10th, the government announced 10 new additions to the National Heroes list. This brings the total to 219 men and just 18 women since the title was first established in 1958. However, it’s not the numbers that are raising eyebrows this year—it’s the names.

Among the new inductees are Soeharto, the authoritarian President of the New Order, and Marsinah, a labor activist who was murdered under Soeharto’s regime.

Let’s be real: putting both Soeharto and Marsinah on the same list is wild. It’s like the Marvel universe declaring both Thanos and the Avengers heroes in the same breath. It’s like calling Voldemort a savior of Hogwarts alongside Harry Potter, or putting President Snow and Katniss Everdeen on the same commemorative poster.

The Bureaucracy of "Heroism"

How does one actually become a national hero? The process is surprisingly bureaucratic. A candidate can be proposed by anyone, provided they have a recommendation from a government official. The proposal travels from a mayor, regent, or governor to the Minister of Social Affairs, eventually landing with the Board of National Honors. The final decision rests with the President.

This year, the Board is chaired by Minister of Culture Fadli Zon—an ally of the President who has famously denied the 1998 mass rapes. According to the Ministry of State Secretariat, the title is reserved for those who fought colonialism, died defending the country, or made "extraordinary" contributions to Indonesia's progress. Beyond the prestige, there is a material benefit: the heirs of each hero receive an annual stipend of Rp 50 million (approximately USD 3,000).

Soeharto: Stability or Suppression?

The inclusion of Soeharto is the lightning rod of this year's list. As the leader of the 32-year New Order regime, his legacy is defined by mass killings of suspected communists, the silencing of the press, and systematic human rights violations. Many of his dissidents remain missing to this day, and the scale of the violence has never been officially acknowledged. Now, his former military general and ex-son-in-law, President Prabowo, has officially awarded him the title of National Hero.

State officials argue this is about "honoring past leaders" and recognizing "extraordinary contributions" toward stability and economic growth. This sentiment isn't just coming from the top; figures from NU and Muhammadiyah have supported the move. There is a genuine, lingering nostalgia—particularly among lower-income groups—who remember the New Order for low inflation and a more "orderly" way of life.

But we have to ask: is this nostalgia real, or is it the result of a history that was never fully taught? It is valid to acknowledge that infrastructure was built and the economy grew, but history is messy. Complexity is part of the narrative, but "good" does not erase the "bad" and the "terrible." When we talk about heroes, that title should demand accountability.

Marsinah: The Victim as a "Neutralizer"

The irony is peaked by the person standing next to Soeharto on the list: Marsinah.

A trade unionist at a watch factory in Nganjuk, Marsinah was a fierce negotiator for 500 workers striking for minimum wage. In May 1993, the factory called in the military to "restore order." Marsinah went to a military compound to inquire about her colleagues; she went missing and was found dead four days later in a rice field, 200 kilometers away. Her body bore the marks of horrific physical and sexual torture.

Marsinah is an icon of the labor struggle. Juxtaposing her with the man who headed the regime that killed her feels, as some political experts suggest, like the government is using her name as "bleach" to neutralize the controversy surrounding Soeharto.

Who Owns History?

We’ve long abandoned the clear distinction between hero and villain in fiction because it isn’t realistic. If we can’t even agree on who is "right" in Attack on Titan or Game of Thrones, why do we think we can draw a binary line in real-life history?

This raises a deeper question: why does Indonesia still have a state-sanctioned list of "National Heroes" at all? If the state calls someone a hero but the people reject it, does the title carry any weight?

As historian Peter Carey noted, if a nation is truly concerned about its history, it wouldn't be writing "national histories" or designating "pahlawan nasional." Instead, the state would put as much raw material and primary sources into the public domain as possible, allowing the people to make up their own minds.

This generation has a front-row seat to history being rewritten by the victors in real-time. Our memory matters. We owe it to ourselves to dig deeper, read widely, and realize that a title bestowed by the state is not the same thing as a legacy earned in the hearts of the people.