Indonesia at the 2025 Arab–Islamic summit: Firm words, familiar mantra

When Indonesian Foreign Minister Sugiono rose to address the Arab–Islamic emergency summit in Doha last week, his words were forceful, familiar—and strangely unsatisfying. Representing President Prabowo Subianto, he condemned Israel’s 9 September airstrike on Qatar as a “gross violation of international law” and “a serious threat to regional and global peace.” He reaffirmed Indonesia’s unwavering solidarity with both Qatar and Palestine. And, once more, he insisted there could be “no lasting peace without a two-state solution.”

It was the language of principle. It was also the language of stasis.

The extraordinary summit of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) and the Arab League—chaired by Qatar’s Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al-Thani and attended by leaders from Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Malaysia and beyond—was convened under extraordinary circumstances. For the first time in decades, Israel struck not Gaza or southern Lebanon, but Doha itself, targeting Hamas officials engaged in cease-fire talks. While Hamas confirmed six deaths, including a Qatari security officer, the symbolic damage may prove greater: Israel challenged not only Palestinian militants, but a Gulf monarchy long positioned as mediator.

Against this backdrop, Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority democracy and a founding member of the OIC, sought to reaffirm its place in the moral vanguard. Sugiono called the attack a “tragic consequence of decades of impunity.” He demanded that the United Nations Security Council act “firmly and urgently.” And he drew a line connecting Palestine’s statelessness with the “survival of our nations” and the “dignity of our peoples.”

But in Doha, solidarity was the easy part. Substance was harder.

The summit’s 25-point communiqué “firmly condemned” Israeli aggression, called for suspending arms transfers and urged states to “review economic relations.” Yet behind the rhetoric, a more complicated reality was visible. Indonesia itself illustrates the paradox. Officially, it has no diplomatic ties with Israel. Officially, it demands boycotts and accountability. Yet trade between the two countries grew nearly 19 per cent in the first seven months of 2025, reaching $165.7 million, after rising by more than 25 per cent the year before.

The contradiction is not Indonesia’s alone. Arab and Muslim capitals, too, are caught between denunciation and normalisation, outrage and quiet commerce. The Abraham Accords reshaped Israel’s ties with the Gulf. Saudi Arabia hovers between estrangement and engagement. Even Qatar—victim of this month’s strike—remains host to both Hamas leaders and a US air base.

In this context, Indonesia’s insistence on the two-state solution feels more like ritual than roadmap. Since the 1990s, successive governments in Jakarta have repeated the same mantra: East Jerusalem as capital, Palestine sovereign, Israel alongside. Sugiono echoed it again in Doha: “The path to lasting peace remains unchanged.”

But the path has, in fact, changed. On the ground, settlements in the West Bank have expanded beyond recognition. Gaza, pulverized by recurrent wars, is more open-air prison than proto-state. In Israel itself, politics has hardened into permanent rejection of Palestinian sovereignty. The diplomatic horizon of Oslo has collapsed into dust.

To cling to the two-state formula today is to recite a creed without confronting its demise.

Indonesia’s leaders know this. President Prabowo, a former general with an eye for pragmatism, visited Doha and Abu Dhabi days before the summit, underlining solidarity while also seeking to position Indonesia as a credible mediator. His foreign minister hinted at accountability mechanisms and UN action. Yet the rhetoric remains bound by orthodoxy.

What if Jakarta dared to speak a harder truth? That the old formula is broken. That Palestinians and Israelis alike live in a one-state reality defined by occupation and inequality. That new strategies—whether confederation models, rights-based approaches, or regional security compacts—must be explored.

Indonesia, with no colonial baggage in the Middle East and genuine moral capital in the Muslim world, could afford to be imaginative. It could push the OIC to think beyond rote communiqués. It could encourage Arab states to match their condemnations with consistent policies—on arms, trade, and diplomacy. And it could anchor its own credibility by reconciling words with deeds: aligning its economic practices with its political positions.

Instead, in Doha, Jakarta reached for the safety of ritual. Condemn Israel. Praise Qatar. Invoke Palestine. Reaffirm the two-state solution.

This is not to dismiss the sincerity of Indonesia’s solidarity. The attack on Doha was an outrage, an act of aggression against sovereignty and international law. The suffering of Palestinians remains intolerable. But solidarity without strategy risks becoming performance.

The Middle East is shifting. Power balances are in flux. Old certainties are collapsing. For Indonesia to be more than a chorus voice, it must break from the script. That means acknowledging the limits of the old mantra, and daring to imagine what peace might look like when the two-state solution is no longer viable.

As Foreign Minister Sugiono said in Doha, the issue is larger than Palestine alone. It is about the dignity of peoples, and the sanctity of law. To honor that dignity requires more than repetition. It requires new ideas.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.