Contributions from Jasul, Adit and Eat for the solidarity infonight in Bristol and London, UK, about the repression after the uprising across the Indonesian archipelago. The contribution can be translated and used for all solidarity events that take place that aim to raise awareness and solidarity about the Chaos Star case and the broader reality.
From Jasul and Adit.
Hello comrades, warm greetings from Bandung to Bristol.
We introduce ourselves as prisoners from what is known as the “Chaos Star.” This correspondence carries fragments of memory from years marked by chaos, surveillance, and arrests. We send this message from behind the bars of a prison in—so called—Indonesia. We are currently serving sentences related to the August 2025 unrest, the pipe bomb attack on a police post in December 2024, and the destruction of Bank Hana during the anti–TNI Bill protests in March and May Day 2025.
The unrest last August became the largest manhunt against activists and anarchists since 1998. This year, 703 political prisoners—although we reject that label—are still undergoing legal processes or are detained. We prefer to be called Anarchist Prisoners rather than Political Prisoners. This is an issue we want to critique. The label “political prisoner” places us within certain relations of power: we are framed as symbols of resistance, victims or survivors of a regime, or tools for legitimizing particular political agendas. Instead, we are Anarchist Prisoners. We reject the very foundation of politics itself. Our emphasis is on the autonomy of the subject and individual disobedience, without serving any project or representation tied to political agendas. By using the label Anarchist Prisoners, we assert a distance from the language of power and maintain a position outside the political field that seeks to regulate, define, and justify everything.
Anarchists in Indonesia are facing an extraordinary storm. More than a dozen anarchists have been detained, tortured, and the state is attempting to discipline us by spreading fear. But to us, that is nothing—because we are the storm itself, the disaster made flesh for them. Among us are comrades from BlackBlocZone, Indonesian Anarchist Black Cross, Contemplative, Katong Press, and many others.
They—our comrades—have appeared like a storm wrapped in fire. Some of us see this moment as a culmination, yet it is neither a beginning nor an end. We gather every flame around us, the flames the state has tried to extinguish.
How many times must we say this: “We can live without the state!” To hell with society! Society is the most perfect tool the state has to preserve itself. We truly, deeply hate society. We believe the dawn of hunger will arrive sooner than expected, marking the beginning of the collapse of the state. To those of you out there: endure, and gather every spark you can find. And to those behind bars—or those who feel imprisoned—you are not alone. Fight! Fight! To hell with winning or losing; what matters is that our eyes remain burning bright in every struggle we face.
One of the starting points that drew us into direct conflict with the state began at the end of 2024. At that time, there was an international call known as Day 1312, understood by some groups as a day of critique against the institution of the police.
On December 13, 2024, there was a global call to action for 1312—an anti-police day, or A.C.A.B (All Cops Are Bastards). One such action took place in Bandung, in front of the Bandung City Police Headquarters. It is no secret that various forms of violence and abuse of power by state apparatus (read: the police) have resulted in human rights violations, one of the most intolerable being the taking of lives. The Commission for the Disappeared and Victims of Violence (KontraS) recorded 602 incidents of violence involving members of the Indonesian National Police (Polri) from July 2024 to June 2025. From the Kanjuruhan tragedy, to Randi and Yusuf, Afif Maulana, Gamma, Affan Kurniawan, to the most recent, Arianto Tawakkal—killed by the police.
As an informal group that condemns all forms of state brutality and pursues theory and practice—through trial and error—of direct action methods to strengthen individuals in reclaiming control over their own lives and using that power to fulfill their own aims, on December 13, 2024, we intended to take part in the 1312 call. However, on that day we were unable to join due to unavoidable circumstances. Eventually, we decided to carry out a direct action on another day—an action conducted individually, separate from demonstrations involving large crowds.
On December 17, 2024, at 02:00 WIB, we planned a spontaneous direct action to throw Molotov cocktails and a pipe bomb at the Letter U Gentong Police Post in Tasikmalaya. After carrying out the action, on December 18, 2024, Naufal and I deliberately fled to East Java, to Jombang and Tulungagung, for several days after seeing news reports that an unknown individual had attacked and burned the police post. The case became serious as Indonesia’s Densus 88 counterterrorism unit became involved in the investigation and crime scene processing. This forced us to ensure we left no trace; in fact, there was no CCTV directly at the police post. The chronology reported in the news was far from the actual facts, which allowed us to breathe a little easier—before a similar action occurred in Makassar.
In January 2025, I received an invitation for a collaborative project from Blessed is the Flame, an anarcho-nihilist/individualist group from Greece, aimed at spreading anarchist propaganda and practices of rebellion internationally. I responded by sending a communiqué claiming responsibility for the burning of the Letter U Gentong Police Post in Tasikmalaya, as an act of solidarity with Nikos Romanos, Alfredo Cospito, and all anarchist prisoners / FAI–IRF prisoners worldwide.
THE BEGINNING OF SURVEILLANCE AND THE MANHUNT!
On March 31, 2025, the police arrested three of our comrades (MRP (19), MS (19), FSD (18)). The arrests followed a Molotov attack on Traffic Police Post 705 at the intersection of AP Pettarani Street – Sultan Alauddin, Makassar, South Sulawesi. This action was a form of resistance against increasingly oppressive government policies, including the revision of the TNI Law, which expands military control into civilian life—a regressive step that deepens repression.
That night, March 22, 2025, our three comrades approached the post with full awareness that the state only understands the language of real resistance. Molotovs were thrown, flames rose, and within moments the police post became a symbol that people will not remain silent in the face of repression. It did not take long for the authorities to respond. With all their resources and surveillance networks, the police quickly hunted down those responsible. The arrests were carried out systematically, using monitoring technology and their information networks. Our three comrades were eventually captured, handcuffed, and taken in for interrogation.
From March to May, we felt constantly surveilled by police intelligence. Wherever we went, we were watched. On September 4, 2025, we were arrested by Indonesia’s Densus 88 counterterrorism unit along with several police officers at our respective homes.
The case later known as the Gentong incident was only a small spark within a much broader landscape of conflict. After that, life continued under the shadow of surveillance. We realized the state never truly forgets, and that every event leaves traces that will one day be used again. While some individuals were already on the radar, the situation outside continued to evolve.
At the beginning of the following year, the government pushed forward the revision of the TNI Law. For many, it felt like a step backward—an attempt to reopen space for the military to further penetrate civilian life. Anger that had been scattered began to converge in the streets. Demonstrations erupted across cities, and the social conflict produced by the existence of the state became visible once again.
We claim responsibility for the burning of two Bank Hana ATMs, a Bank Hana office building, a capitalist-owned advertising videotron, and a vehicle belonging to the Indonesian National Armed Forces. These acts took place after demonstrators occupied public space following protests against the ratification of the TNI Law, in Bandung, West Java, on the night of Friday, March 21, 2025. The demonstration in front of the Regional House of Representatives (DPRD) was not ignored by riot police, even as Molotovs, propane gas, stones, and firecrackers were thrown toward the building. In the end, we chose direct action by carrying out burnings at several points mentioned above.
Opposition to the TNI Bill revived long-standing fears about the militarization of civilian space. When students and various groups took to the streets to reject the bill, they faced not only security forces but also the logic of a state always ready to respond to disobedience with repression.
Some time later, as the calendar moved toward May 1, the tension had not subsided. May Day became another space where anger against state control, labor exploitation, and increasingly rigid power once again converged in the streets.
A total of 24 demonstrators, including students and student journalists, were arrested during the May Day protest on May 1, 2025, in Semarang, six of whom were briefly detained as suspects. They were accused of resisting officers and damaging facilities.
May Day in Bandung left a trail of arrests and unresolved tension. For many, the detention of demonstrators served as a reminder that taking to the streets always means confronting forces ready to suppress it.
Months later, the tension did not disappear—it accumulated beneath the surface. By August 2025, this buildup of social anger finally erupted more widely, making the unrest the peak of a chain of conflicts that had been visible since the early-year protests.
In the end, nothing is ever truly finished. What you call “order” is only a temporary pause in a conflict that continues to pulse beneath the surface. The state may detain bodies, but it can never fully tame the will that refuses to submit. From Gentong, to the streets during the TNI protests, to the August eruption—these are not separate series, but the same pulse in different forms.
We offer no hope, nor do we promise victory. What exists is the slow approach of destruction, and the choice to keep burning within it. If this world is built on control, fear, and obedience, then let it collapse along with all the illusions that sustain it. From behind these bars, we ask for nothing—except one thing: never stop.
Before we close this correspondence, we would like to include a quote from a communiqué we sent during the early days of our imprisonment:
“Because what we fight for is not freedom as defined by legal pamphlets or moral values that shift with every press conference. This is a freedom that does not fit within articles of law, does not sit comfortably in courtrooms, and cannot be stamped shut by the state.
Out there, people fall to accidents, addiction, and work-related illnesses legalized by economic necessity. Others die slowly from boredom and isolation, drowning in obedient routines praised as stability. Amid the ruins after August 29, we chose to stake our lives on a leap—without safety nets, without promises of compensation. Nothing is more honest than that choice.
Maybe today we lost a round. But the war over meaning is not over. Our gaze remains forward—and still burning!”
–
From Eat.
Greetings
I am a detainee in what is being called the “Chaos Star” case. I was arrested in Makassar on September 23rd, 2025, by West Java Regional Police, along with dozens of counterterrorism units from Densus 88.
I have been accused of being the mastermind behind the spontaneous uprisings that took place between August and September last year across several cities in Indonesia, particularly Jakarta and Bandung. The authorities also accuse me of inciting acts of vandalism, and of orchestrating a bombing at a police post in West Java in December 2024.
When I was arrested, I was interrogated and tortured throughout the night. They tried to force access to my personal email and questioned me about my friends and their alleged involvement. When I refused to cooperate and chose to remain silent, the officers wrapped a plastic bag over my head to suffocate me, and beat me. This happened several times.
After I was transferred to the West Java Police headquarters, they deliberately tried to isolate me with a state-appointed lawyer so they could claim a legal basis to continue interrogating me, even though I insisted on my right to remain silent.
I believe this arrest is highly political. It serves to protect their image after last year’s unrest, by creating a scapegoat for the fragility of their political system. The events of last year showed that ordinary people can disrupt the state’s control, even if only for a few days.
I cannot deny that the rapid spread of information through technology played a major role. Without platforms like YouTube, Instagram, WhatsApp, or TikTok, such spontaneous uprisings would have been much harder to organize. But this is also the contradiction: the same technology enables authorities to quickly track, identify, and arrest those involved. Through informants and social media activity they build their narrative, and thus accusing anarchists of being the main culprit, especially the so-called egoist and nihilist circles.
They pressured me to falsely implicate my friends using fabricated evidence and testimony. I refused to co-operate.
For the destruction of techno industrial Civilization
Panjang umur anarki
Eat
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