The Overhaul

The Dawn of the Union

Kira returned to her apartment after meeting Ari, her mind still buzzing with the weight of their conversation. The city outside was settling into its usual nighttime rhythm, but inside, her thoughts were far from quiet. She dropped her bag by the door and slumped onto her worn-out couch, staring at the blinking lights of the skyline through the window. Jakarta's constant hum was familiar, yet in this moment, it felt distant—like she was standing at the edge of something much bigger. The future she had mocked for so long was now calling her, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if she could ignore it anymore. Being selected for the Youth Governance Program meant she would soon be at the heart of the Democratic Union of Southeast Asia—a political experiment that, for better or worse, had redefined the region over the past two decades.

The Union had been a strange evolution. It wasn't so much a grand vision realized, but a solution borne out of necessity. The story began in 2024, with the election that had put Gibran Rakabuming Raka—President Jokowi's son—in the vice-presidential seat alongside Prabowo. That election had been hailed as a pivotal moment, a blending of the old guard and the next generation. Indonesia's leadership sought to stabilize the country's growing prominence on the global stage while navigating its internal complexities. But, as the decade wore on, it became clear that a more profound shift was needed, not just for Indonesia, but for the entire region.

By 2030, the geopolitical climate had grown tense, especially around the South China Sea, where conflicts over territory and maritime resources intensified. China's growing assertiveness sent ripples of anxiety across Southeast Asia, and ASEAN's loose coalition of states struggled to present a united front. It was around this time that Tariq Darmawan, Indonesia's Foreign Minister—a charismatic, visionary leader—began to push for something more cohesive than the annual ASEAN summits.

Tariq, a former diplomat with a deep understanding of international power balances, had long argued that Southeast Asia needed a stronger, more unified stance to counter the influence of global powers like China and the U.S. His vision was ambitious: a Democratic Union of Southeast Asian Countries—a political and economic alliance that would pool the region's resources, influence, and military capacities to act as a single, formidable entity on the world stage. For Tariq, it wasn't just about balance in the South China Sea; it was about securing the region's sovereignty and future.

Kira still remembered the headlines from back then: "ASEAN Dreams Big: A Democratic Union to Challenge Global Powers!" The idea was controversial at first. Indonesia, with its rising economic influence and vast natural resources, led the charge, but nations like Thailand, the Philippines, and Vietnam were initially wary. The fear of ceding too much national sovereignty to a regional body was real. Each country had its own complex politics, and trust among them had always been fragile.

But by the late 2030s, after years of diplomatic negotiations, trade deals, and a few key crises—most notably a standoff with Chinese naval forces in disputed waters—Tariq's vision began to take shape. The Democratic Union of Southeast Asia, or DUSA, was officially founded in 2040, with ten member nations pooling their military, economic, and political resources. It was not a full integration, like the European Union, but more of a coordinated alliance. There was still room for national autonomy, but DUSA had the power to dictate defense policy, trade negotiations, and diplomatic strategy as a single entity.

It was a balancing act. The Union worked to maintain the delicate threads of nationalism within its member states, while also fostering a sense of collective Southeast Asian identity. But as with any grand project, cracks were beginning to show. Kira had grown up in the post-DUSA era, where the union was treated as an inevitable reality. Yet, she had always felt a lingering doubt about its long-term sustainability.

The governments assured the people that DUSA had brought unprecedented economic growth and regional stability. Trade flourished, foreign investment poured in, and for the most part, the citizens of Southeast Asia were enjoying higher standards of living. But beneath the surface, not everyone was convinced. The region's youth, Kira included, had started to lose faith in the system, seeing it as just another layer of bureaucracy. It seemed like the Union was designed more to keep the old elites in power than to truly empower the younger generation.

As she stood at her window, Kira couldn't help but reflect on how strange it was that Tariq Darmawan, once lauded as a visionary, had ultimately become one of the most powerful gatekeepers of this system. She remembered watching his fiery speeches as a teenager, about how DUSA would ensure that Southeast Asia never became a pawn in global power struggles again. Now, Tariq had become synonymous with the very establishment he had sought to reform.

Kira sighed, turning away from the window. The tension between idealism and reality weighed heavily on her mind as she prepared for the upcoming month. Her role in the Youth Governance Program would give her an insider's view of this vast, intricate machine that was DUSA. It felt surreal—surreal, but also necessary. Maybe it was time for someone to challenge the structure from within.

She grabbed her tablet, scrolling through the news updates. As expected, the focus was still on the upcoming Youth Governance cycle. But there, buried beneath the headlines, was a quiet update about the Union's increasing tensions with China over yet another disputed island chain in the South China Sea. The Union's leaders were treading carefully, balancing diplomacy with the need to assert control over their own waters.

Kira frowned. It always came back to the sea. Control over it had been the catalyst for so much of the Union's formation, but now it was a constant source of friction. DUSA's military, while formidable, was stretched thin across thousands of kilometers of coastline, guarding vital shipping lanes from external threats. It was the very thing Tariq had warned about: the region was forever at risk of being caught between the great powers. And even with all its progress, DUSA wasn't entirely free from the shadow of foreign influence.

But more troubling to Kira than external threats was the growing internal disconnect. While leaders like Tariq celebrated DUSA as a shining example of regional cooperation, the younger generation was growing disillusioned. Economic growth meant little if wealth and power continued to accumulate in the hands of a few. Many of her peers felt that DUSA had simply become a larger version of the old systems they had hoped to leave behind. The politics, the corruption, the broken promises—they had all been scaled up, not eliminated.

Her tablet buzzed again. Another notification, this time from the Youth Governance Program, reminding her of the orientation meeting in two days. As Kira swiped it away, she thought about what Ari had said during their conversation the night before. About shaking things up. Maybe DUSA wasn't the answer the region had hoped for. Maybe the Youth Governance Program was just another superficial fix, meant to distract the public from the real issues.

But what if it could be more?

What if the younger generation—those like her, who saw the cracks and the contradictions—could actually use the program to push for something better?

Kira didn't know what the future held for the Union, or for her role in it, but one thing was certain: she wasn't going to sit idly by and watch the system rot. Whatever happened next, she was determined to make her time in the program count.

With a deep breath, she stepped away from the window, a new sense of purpose settling over her. The world around her was changing, and so was she.

It was time to meet the Union face-to-face.