Introduction

Artificial Intelligence is actively redrawing our visual world, but its arrival, particularly in the realm of imagery, has often been met with a distinct undercurrent of skepticism in Indonesia, as elsewhere. Beyond early alarms about deepfakes, the rise of generative AI tools has sparked fierce debate among artists and designers. Concerns rage about unethical data scraping to train models, the perceived soullessness and lack of true artistry in AI outputs, and the existential threat to creative livelihoods. This backdrop fuels a critical question often leveled at polished AI creations: “Why not just hire a professional?”

It’s within this complex climate – blending technological anxiety with specific creative industry concerns – that the Indonesian public’s engagement with recent AI creations provides sharp clarity. During the 2024 presidential election, one prominent AI-generated political mascot, “Gemoy,” seemed to crystallize many of these fears. Its slick, cartoonish style, aimed at influencing voters, drew widespread criticism, partly rooted in that very question of why professional human creativity wasn’t employed for such a high-profile task. Yet, paradoxically, just a year later during Ramadan 2025, the digital landscape witnessed the viral success and genuine public affection for “Tung Tung Tung Sahur,” a quirky, low-fi AI-generated meme.

Why did one AI visual confirm anxieties, including those of the creative community, while the other unexpectedly bypassed them? This article dives into that crucial divergence, arguing that the Indonesian public’s reception hinges less on the AI origin itself and more on critically evaluating its perceived intent, context, and production value relative to purpose. When AI felt like a slick, potentially deceptive tool for political manipulation (raising the “why not hire a human?” question), it tripped alarms. When it manifested as absurd, low-effort, culturally fluent internet humor, it found acceptance. Understanding this difference reveals how Indonesians are navigating AI’s visual disruption – with specific professional and ethical critiques, but also with an openness to creativity that aligns with context and expectation.

Gemoy: The Political Mascot

The anxieties surrounding AI – both its manipulative potential and its impact on creative professions – found a potent symbol during Indonesia’s 2024 election cycle in “Gemoy.” This AI-generated, cartoonishly cute depiction of presidential candidate Prabowo Subianto, strategically pushed by his campaign, aimed explicitly to soften their image and woo younger voters.

The public response from many quarters? A firestorm of skepticism and outright rejection. “Gemoy” wasn’t just disliked politically; it was dissected aesthetically and ethically. Here’s why it landed so poorly:

1. Authenticity Fail & The “Hire an Artist” Critique: Critics blasted it as a transparent, cynical ploy. Furthermore, its polished, professionally-mimicking style immediately invoked the question: with campaign resources available, why use potentially ethically dubious AI instead of commissioning Indonesian artists or animators? This fueled perceptions of it being not just politically inauthentic, but also dismissive of human creative labor.
2. Manipulation Alarm: Using AI to create a “cute” avatar felt patronizing, an attempt to distract from substance. This validated concerns about technology obscuring truth, seen by many as an insult to voter intelligence during a crucial election.
3. Connection Rejected: Unlike organic cultural phenomena, “Gemoy” felt like an alien imposition – a top-down attempt to engineer likeability using technology often perceived as ‘soulless’. It failed to connect authentically.
4. Ethical Red Flags: Its strategic deployment ignited debates about digital campaigning ethics and the responsible use of AI, confirming fears about its role in persuasion versus deception, especially when potentially bypassing human creators.

“Gemoy” became a cautionary tale from the 2024 election. Its failure wasn’t just political; it also resonated with broader anxieties about AI’s impact on authenticity and creative value. It represented a high-stakes, high-polish AI application that failed the trust test on multiple levels.

Tung Tung Tung Sahur: The “Anomaly” Meme

Just as the “Gemoy” case seemed to solidify wary stances towards polished, potentially manipulative AI, the Ramadan period of 2025 offered a starkly different outcome. “Tung Tung Tung Sahur,” an AI-generated meme, achieved massive international recognition alongside its viral success in Indonesia, demonstrating how AI could resonate positively.

Born on TikTok (@noxaasht), the meme featured a quirky, low-fidelity AI-generated wooden log figure chanting “Tung Tung Tung Sahur” (mimicking the kentongan drum for the sahur meal wake-up call), often presented with a “scary anomaly” narrative. Instead of polish, it embraced the bizarre aesthetic of the “Italian Brainrot” meme genre.

The reaction was global amusement. Spreading wildly during Ramadan, it became a shared cultural touchpoint far beyond Indonesia’s borders. Crucially, the critiques leveled at “Gemoy” simply didn’t apply here.

Why did this specific AI creation bypass the skepticism?

• Cultural Fluency Made it Relatable & Funny: The meme’s strength was its connection to the specific Indonesian Ramadan experience (the kentongan sound, the sahur ritual). This grounding made the AI’s inherent weirdness part of the humor, not a source of suspicion. It hit the right cultural notes for a joke.
• Pure Meme, Zero Pretense Sidestepped Deeper Critiques: This wasn’t trying to be high art or persuasive communication. It was explicitly low-effort, absurd internet humor. No one asks “Why not hire a professional artist?” for a deliberately crude ‘Brainrot’ meme. Its disposable, entertainment-only nature placed it entirely outside the realm of concerns about AI replacing professional creatives or manipulating serious discourse. It was simply funny.
• Organic Internet Origin Felt Genuine: Emerging from a TikTok user and spreading organically fit the expectation of meme culture. It felt ‘bottom-up’ and community-driven, unlike “Gemoy’s” top-down campaign push.
• Local Roots Fueled Global Pride (“Ada Indonesia Cuy!”): While becoming an international phenomenon, its Indonesian origins (the sahur call, the language) were undeniable. This generated significant pride among Indonesians online – a feeling of “Ada Indonesia Cuy!” (roughly, “Indonesia’s here, man!”). Seeing their specific culture remixed into a globally recognized meme fostered a positive reception domestically, reinforcing its harmless, celebratory aspect.

“Tung Tung Tung Sahur” demonstrated that context and perceived intent are paramount. As a low-stakes, culturally resonant, globally shared meme, its AI origins were irrelevant to the critiques applied to “Gemoy.” It succeeded precisely because it wasn’t trying to be anything more than funny internet content.

The Fight: Humor vs. Influence

The stark difference in reception boils down to fundamental differences in context, perceived intent, production value expectations, and stakes.

• Purpose & Intent: “Tung Sahur” aimed for laughs within global meme culture, leveraging a specific Indonesian tradition. “Gemoy” aimed for votes in a national election. The former’s intent was transparently harmless entertainment; the latter’s was high-stakes political influence, triggering immediate suspicion.
• Authenticity & Production: “Tung Sahur’s” low-fi, bizarre aesthetic was authentic to its genre (Brainrot memes). Its cultural references felt knowledgeable. “Gemoy’s” attempt at polished cuteness felt strategically inauthentic, and its AI nature invited unfavorable comparisons to professional human work.
• Stakes & Critique Relevance: Sharing a meme is trivial. The “hire an artist” critique is irrelevant. Choosing a leader is critical. Questions about ethical AI use, manipulation, and the value of human creativity become central. “Gemoy” failed because it operated in the high-stakes arena where these serious critiques do apply.

AI IS NOT the Problem; Context and Application Are

This refined understanding reinforces that the issue isn’t AI technology itself. Indonesians embraced the AI-driven “Tung Sahur” meme wholeheartedly. The pushback is against specific applications of AI that feel manipulative, ethically questionable, dismissive of human creative value, or inappropriate for their context (like high-stakes politics). The success of “Tung Sahur” shows an appetite for AI’s creative potential when it aligns with expectations for humor, cultural relevance, and appropriate context.

The Questions

The “Gemoy” vs. “Tung Sahur” contrast sharpens crucial questions:

• As AI tools improve, how will audiences distinguish between harmless AI-generated fun and sophisticated, potentially manipulative content designed to mimic professional work?
• Will the “why not hire a human?” critique intensify as AI becomes capable of more polished outputs across various fields?
• What ethical guidelines are needed not just for political AI, but for AI use in creative industries to address concerns about data, attribution, and labor?
• Can AI move beyond meme generation and political mascots to genuinely foster nuanced dialogue without triggering anxieties about authenticity and manipulation?

Conclusion: Trust, Context, and Intent Remain Key

Indonesia’s contrasting reactions deliver a potent message: AI acceptance hinges fundamentally on trust, context, perceived intent, and alignment with expectations. “Gemoy” confirmed fears (political manipulation, devaluing human creativity) because its high-stakes, high-polish application felt inappropriate and potentially deceptive. “Tung Tung Tung Sahur” bypassed these fears because its low-stakes, low-fi, culturally resonant nature fit perfectly within the accepted norms of global internet humor, even sparking national pride.

AI can delight when its application feels appropriate and its intent clear. But attempts to use it as a shortcut for high-stakes influence or to mimic professional creative work without addressing underlying ethical concerns are likely to crash against a wall of skepticism. The digital ghost needs a purpose – and a form – that people can embrace without feeling deceived or dismissed.