Talking Indonesia

From the algorithms that curate your social media feed to the recommendation systems that influence what you buy, artificial intelligence is quietly reshaping every aspect of our daily lives. Yet most of us remain in the dark about how these powerful technologies are governed—and that's a problem we can't afford to ignore. Artificial Intelligence (or AI) policy isn't just about tech regulation; it's about who gets to shape the future of work, privacy, and power in our increasingly digital world. The rules being written today will determine whether AI serves all of society or just a privileged few. In this episode of Talking Indonesia, Dr Elisabeth Kramer dives into Indonesia's approach to AI governance, taking its cues from the private sector, with guest Diah Angendari. Diah Angendari is a PhD Candidate at Leiden University and her dissertation examines the interplay between imaginaries, power, and interests in policymaking. She’s using the case study of AI in Indonesia to understand the factors that shape

Palm oil contributes to up 4.5% to Indonesia’s GDP and unlike other commodities, the Indonesian government promotes palm oil as motor of rural development. This is because up to half of Indonesia’s palm oil production is generated by smallholders, farmers with 2-3 hectares of land, cultivating oil palm crops and selling the product for reliable market prices to corporate and state refineries. But this model of national development is in crisis. Small holder palm oil plants are aging, yields are decreasing and company profits are becoming leaner. At the same time, major markets are putting pressure on Indonesia’s palm oil industry for its environmental impact, including rampant deforestation and biodiversity loss. To address this crisis, the former Jokowi government embarked on an ambitious plan to help small holders replant their declining palm oil, this time in accordance with new standards of sustainability. But as my guest, Ara Simanjuntak, today reveals, the new government grants given to smallholders

Nurwanto Nurwanto - School Violence and Bullying In recent months Indonesians have grown increasingly concerned and indeed outraged following several reports of deadly violence involving children as young as elementary school age. In a case in Riau in May an eight-year-old boy died after complications due to a ruptured appendix, which his parents believe was the result of beatings he suffered at the hands of fellow students aged 11-13 years. Around the same time, a video when viral of a brawl involving 20 primary school aged children in Depok. In response, the Governor of West Java, Dedi Mulyadi, called for the students involved to be sent to military camps. These recent cases have focused the country’s attention on what has been a critical issue for some time. In 2024 the Indonesian Child Protection Commission (KPAI) reported that cases of violence among school students had increased 32%, and a 2018 PISA survey showed that 41% of Indonesian students aged 15 years reported being bullied, nearly double th

Justinus Lhaksana - Indonesian Football and the Road to the 2026 World Cup In October 2022, the image of Indonesian football filling news bulletins around the world was one of tragedy and horror at the huge loss of life sparked by clashes between fans and security agents at a football match in Kanjuruhan, East Java. Less than three years later, this image is being replaced some by something quite different. In June this year, Indonesia did what no other Southeast Asian football team has done since the 1930s and proceeded to the fourth round of qualifying for the FIFA World Cup to be held in Canada, Mexico and the USA in 2026. To get this far Indonesia beat both China and Bahrain at home after going down to Australia and Japan away in the third round of qualifying. Now, only two matches stand between this team becoming the first to represent the Republic of Indonesia at a FIFA World Cup. In 1938, it was the first Asian nation to go to a FIFA World Cup but was of course competing under the Dutch East Indies f

When you order food through Gojek or Grab in Indonesia, you're not just getting dinner delivered, but you're also participating in what has become a sophisticated digital platform economy. These food apps have fundamentally transformed how millions of Indonesians eat, shop, and navigate daily life, while generating billions in revenue for tech unicorns that now rival traditional media conglomerates in their cultural influence. But how exactly are these online food platforms reshaping Indonesian society? And what happens when we compare their impact across different cultural and economic contexts? A fascinating new study by Nadia Egalita, a PhD researcher at RMIT, offers insights into these questions through comparative ethnographic research conducted in Surabaya and Melbourne. Egalita's research reveals striking disparities in how online food delivery operates across class lines in Indonesia. While upper-middle-class families with domestic workers and dual kitchen systems allow children to order multiple me

Despite significant strides in recent decades, Indonesia continues to face one of Southeast Asia's higher maternal mortality rates. A recent study published by Syaraji and colleagues (2024) found that for every 100,000 live births, approximately 249 women die from pregnancy-related causes. In Jakarta and other major cities, expectant mothers often access modern facilities staffed by trained professionals. But travel just hours outside these urban hubs, particularly to eastern provinces or remote islands, and the picture changes dramatically. There, a shortage of qualified healthcare workers, limited emergency obstetric services, and challenging geography create significant barriers to care. The Indonesian government has implemented several initiatives to address these issues, including the deployment of community midwives to rural areas and the expansion of universal health coverage through the Jaminan Kesehatan Nasional program. But implementation gaps remain, with many women still facing obstacles, partic

Evi Mariani - Media Freedom In March this year parcels containing a pig’s head and the carcasses of dead rats were sent to the offices of Tempo magazine in Jakarta. The story made international headlines and led to an outpouring of support and condemnation from across Indonesia’s mediascape and public more broadly. Known for its deep investigative reporting the magazine’s chief editor described the brazen threat on its journalists as an act of terrorism. Just weeks after the attack on Tempo, the latest World Press Freedom Index downgraded Indonesia’s rating across all indicators. Media organisations and news outlets across the world face inevitable decline and are struggling to maintain relevance in the face of competition from social media platforms, content creators and influencers. In Indonesia, mass layoffs of journalists are imminent as the old commercial model collapses. In response, a new, although undeniably small movement of independent journalism is pushing back with the aim of finding new ways t

In recent years, Indonesia has experienced a remarkable transformation in its gaming landscape, with mobile esports emerging as a powerful cultural and economic force. What was once considered a fringe activity now enjoys mainstream legitimacy, supported by both grassroots communities and government institutions. In this episode, Tito Ambyo speaks with Haryo Pambuko Jiwandono, a PhD candidate at RMIT University researching mobile game esports in Indonesia. They explore how esports in Indonesia has evolved from informal gatherings at internet cafes to a structured industry with professional teams, government support, and international success. In 2024, Indonesia won the FIFA E World Cup against Brazil and dominated in the Football Manager competition against Germany, marking significant achievements on the global stage. Haryo's research illuminates how mobile games like Mobile Legends and PUBG Mobile have democratised gaming across Indonesia through their accessibility on smartphones, fostering community-cen

A growing protest movement On 28 March, in downtime Jakarta across from the Sarinah department store, an unlikely group of protesters gathered holding signs and making speeches. The crowd largely consisted of middleclass women of various ages, gathered under the name ‘Suara Ibu Indonesia’ (Voices of Indonesian Mothers). For the organisers, the choice of name and location for their protest was deliberately designed to evoke a moment in Indonesia’s past, now 27 years ago, when in the final months of the autocratic Suharto regime an economic and political crisis saw student protests met with deadly violence at the hands of the military and police. Then a group called Suara Ibu Peduli (Voices of Concerned Mothers, SIP), tapped into growing concern within wider society about the state of their country. In late March 2025, as student protests at campuses and in front of law offices were once again met with violence by state law enforcement, the women who gathered in downtown Jakarta expressed their fear of a ret

Bones can tell us so much about the past, not just about the ancestry of modern humans (or homo sapiens) but also about the people and cultures of times long forgotten. When we think about Indonesia’s place in history, we’re often inclined to think about the histories that shape the socio-cultural and political dynamics we see today. But Indonesia’s global historical significance goes way beyond this when we start considering how Indonesia features in early movements and migrations of humans and how they might have lived. It's estimated that ancient humans travelled through Wallacea, what we now understand as Eastern Indonesia, at least 50,000 years ago (possibly even before 65,000 years ago) before coming to Australia and its surrounding islands. There is also evidence of pre-modern ancestry- the most famous, perhaps, being the discovery of skeletal remains in Central Java, which became known as the “Java man,” in the 1980s. These were the first known fossils of the species homo erectus. While difficult

In Indonesia, a country prone to disasters and emergencies, effective risk communication can mean the difference between safety and vulnerability for millions. But what happens when risk communication fails to reach those most marginalised? How do social determinants of health impact how urban poor women navigate crises like the COVID-19 pandemic? In this week's episode, Tito Ambyo chats with Citra Lestari, a PhD candidate at the University of Melbourne. With a background as a risk communication professional and drawing on her personal experience as a mother, Citra's research focuses on how urban poor women in Jakarta understand and respond to health crises. She explores the cognitive, affective, and socio-cultural factors that influence risk perception among marginalised communities, challenging the notion of "ignorant others" who simply fail to understand expert advice. Citra's research reveals how protocols designed to mitigate risk often fail to consider the everyday realities of those living in informa

Queer Muslims and Their Allies Amid Indonesia’s conservative turn, the moral panics of the 2010s and the introduction of the draconian Criminal Code in 2022, LGBTQI+ people are as vulnerable as at any time in the country’s modern history. In a nation with the world’s largest Muslim population and where religion plays a central role in defining belonging and nationalism, the identities of queer Indonesian Muslims provide valuable insight into how these subjectivities are negotiated in everyday life. How do queer Muslims maintain their faith and religious practices in an increasingly hostile environment? While in the West religion and queerness are often seen as incompatible, how and why do LGBTQI+ Indonesian Muslims hold onto their faith? How does progressive Islam inform the work of their Allies and what support do they provide? In this week's episode Jemma chats with Dr Diego Garcia Rodriguez, a Leverhulme-funded Research Fellow at the University of Nottingham. His book, 'Gender, Sexuality and Islam in

This past week has seen what some have argued are the first big mobilisations of the new Prabowo government, with coordinated student protests across 12 cities under the banner of Indonesia Gelap, or “Dark Indonesia”. The students list a number of demands, from human rights to environmental issues, but the trigger for these protests lie in deep budgetary cuts initiated across the public service, to the tune of US$44 billion. The worst ministries and agencies, including the Ministry for Manpower and the Ministry for Public Works, have proposed cuts of up to 55%. The National Consumer Protection Agency is being cut a whopping 73%. Meanwhile, the police, the Ministry for Defence and the Supreme Court are seeing cuts of around 15-16%. The government is selling these cuts as efficiency dividends for a sluggish and unproductive bureaucracy, and the savings will be directly diverted to fund Prabowo’s policy promises. This includes of course, Prabowo’s signature investment in human capital, the MBG, or Free Nut

Climate Change is well-recognised as a massive challenge facing society today. It is clear that the political, economic and social consequences of climate change will not be felt equally, not only globally but also across Indonesia. Geography, class and—indeed--gender dynamics will influence how individuals Indonesians experience and respond to climate change. But it’s not just the environmental impacts that require navigation. As Arora-Johnson wrote in 2011, within the gender and climate development nexus, poor, rural-based women are portrayed as the most vulnerable and likely to die due to climate events. So, are these portrayals accurate? And how have they influenced thinking about women’s roles in climate crisis projects. Sustainable development projects that seek to address climate change are often coupled with questions of how to address inequality, with a narrow focus on what gender inequality actually is and who is responsible for overcoming it. In this episode, Elisabeth Kramer speaks with Dr Jane

In Melbourne and across Australia, Indonesian diaspora communities are reimagining what it means to celebrate their cultural identity through art, food, and the simple act of "nongkrong" - hanging out. But what happens when these cultural practices become spaces for exploring complex questions about belonging, identity, and ethical settlement on Aboriginal land? What does it mean to maintain connections to Indonesia while building new communities in Australia? How can festivals become sites of both cultural celebration and critical dialogue? And what roles do art and creative practice play in helping diaspora communities navigate their layered identities? In this episode, Tito Ambyo talks with Moira Tirtha, founder of Melbourne's Nongkrong Festival and a researcher studying Indonesian creative diaspora. Together they explore how the festival has evolved from a simple gathering among friends to become an important space for cultural dialogue and community building. Through their conversation, we learn about

Art, activism and a cancelled show - Wulan Dirgantoro Late last year news media splashed the image of an elderly artist standing before a locked door at the National Gallery of Indonesia. The sign behind him displayed his name - Yos Suprapto – and the title of his solo exhibition 'Kebangkitan: Tanah Untuk Kedaulatan Pangan' (Revival: Land for Food Sovereignty), due to have opened on 19 December. The headlines explained that the gallery had cancelled the show with little notice. What followed was a battle of words and claims around the cancellation, or as the gallery described it, it's closure at the behest of the artist. The newly minted Minister for Culture, Fadli Zon, also weighed in. What was it about this exhibition that made it so contentious? Who is the artist and why did this show become a lightning rod for controversy? More broadly, what might it mean for freedom of expression, art and activism in Indonesia? In this week's episode Jemma chats with Dr Wulan Dirgantoro, a lecturer in art history and

Late last month, for the first time its history, Indonesia held simultaneous regional elections across 545 provinces, regencies and municipalities across the country. Across 6000 ballot stations, and 1553 contesting candidates, there were upsets in key regions, like Central Java where the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDIP) lost its provincial stronghold, and Jakarta, where PDIP’s underdog candidate, Pramono Anung, took the governorship from the governing coalition’s favourite, Ridwan Kamil. But elsewhere, candidates backed by Prabowo and his ruling KIM coalition handily won the election. This include Dedi Mulyani for governor of West Java, Khofifah Indar Parawansa in East Java, Bobby Nasution in North Sumatra and former “rose team” Kopassus officer, Yulius Selvanas in North Sulawesi. In South Kalimantan, the candidate backed by mining magnate and political powerbroker Haji Isem, also took office. Our avid listeners will remember my colleague Dr Ian Wilson, Senior lecturer in Politics, Terr

Vannessa Hearman - East Timor’s Great Famine, 1977-1979 Following Indonesia’s annexation of East Timor in December 1975, the forced displacement and mass starvation of its people resulted in what is known as the Great East Timor Famine, 1977-1979. As Indonesian forces moved into the province thousands of people were forced to flee their villages and farms into the mountains and bush, where food sources were scarce. It is estimated that over fifty percent of East Timor’s population of 600,000 was displaced. A report complied by the East Timor Truth, Reception and Reconciliation Commission (CAVR) concluded that at least 84,000 people, but possibly up to 180,000, died in the famine. As such this tragedy touched one in two East Timorese. Indonesia’s restrictions on the media and its own propaganda, meant that there was little open reporting on the tragedy as it unfolded. More than two decades since East Timorese voted for independence from Indonesia the truth and associated trauma of this conflict-induced famine

About 1000km north of Jakarta is a little pocket of paradise, a sprinkle of islands called the Natuna Islands, home to less than 100,000 people. These sparsely populated islands are the gateway to the North Natuna Sea, an area of unparalleled natural wealth. These waters are rich in fish, tuna, mackerel and marine life which sustains fisher livelihoods. This is also an area endowed untapped gas and oil reserves worth many billions of dollars. Indonesia claims the area as within its Exclusive Economic Zone, a right backed up by international maritime law. But China’s controversial nine-dash line, a map that shows China’s claims to the South China Sea, overlaps Indonesia economic zone. And while China withdrew its claim to the actual Natuna Islands way back in 1995, it continues to insist that the maritime gas reserves are well within its rights. The past decade has seen this area militarise at a pace, as skirmishes with Chinese military and an army of illegal fishing trawlers challenge the Indonesian navy.

We often talk hear about the lives and living conditions of Indonesian migrant workers, many of them going to countries such as Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong and states in the Middle East to find employment. In its 2024 Empowering Migrant Workers report, the United Nations Development Project estimated that 9 million Indonesians are working abroad. With such a large cohort overseas, the rights and welfare of this labour force is a focus of the Indonesia government. And for good reason too, as we’ve all heard concerning stories of poor treatment, and particularly gendered violence, that can occur. However, what, or who, we hear much less about are the approximately 400,000 foreigners working in Indonesia. Has the Indonesian government’s concern for Indonesian citizens in foreign lands translated at all to an awareness of the need to protect foreign workers within its own borders? Who comprises this diverse group and what are their experiences of labour rights and labour protections while working in Indonesi