Tag Archive for: Indonesia

Albanese’s visit shows Indonesia is still a foreign policy priority

As Anthony Albanese prepares to travel to Jakarta for his first state visit in his second term, the symbolism is clear: Indonesia remains a cornerstone of Australia’s foreign policy.

Since taking office, the Albanese government has prioritised Southeast Asia, laying important groundwork through initiatives such as the 2024 Defence Cooperation Agreement with Indonesia and the Southeast Asia Economic Strategy. But the tangible reality of the relationship with Indonesia remains limited by diverging strategic visions, misaligned expectations and a reluctance to address hard topics.

This means the prime minister’s visit must go beyond symbolism. If this partnership is to mature, both sides must start talking honestly about where they differ, where they want to go and how best to get there in lock-step. That’s because beneath the surface of two democracies, the two countries have taken different paths when it comes to issues such as dealing with Russia after the 2022 Ukraine invasion and the region’s most pressing strategic question: how to deal with China.

Since entering office, the Albanese government has approached its China policy through the prism of stabilisation—along with the formula of cooperating where we can, disagreeing where we must, and engaging in the national interest. At the same time, through AUKUS and its support for the Quad, Canberra has doubled down on its alliance with the United States and its commitment to a balance-of-power strategy in the Indo-Pacific. It believes US military presence is essential to maintaining regional stability, and it is prepared to take risks to preserve that status quo. Indonesia does not see conflict as inevitable. Instead, it wants to keep both the US and China engaged in multilateral diplomacy, with ASEAN as the central platform. It sees minilateral groupings such as AUKUS and the Quad as challenges to ASEAN’s relevance and Indonesia’s role as a regional power.

Even as Indonesian officials cautiously welcome some aspects of these arrangements, such as the potential for technology sharing or regional deterrence, they remain uneasy about their long-term impact. This divergence is not academic. It affects how each country responds to crises, how they define regional order and how they prioritise partnerships.

Australia is comfortable with hard-edge strategic competition. Indonesia is not. This difference in world views can’t be papered over with warm language or economic initiatives. It needs to be acknowledged, discussed and managed. The recent controversy over claims (subsequently retracted) by outgoing opposition leader Peter Dutton that Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto had publicly announced a request by Russia to host a naval base in Biak is a case in point. The episode revealed a deeper problem: a lack of trust in how each country interprets and communicates security concerns. In Indonesia, the hosting of any foreign military base—whether Australian, American, Chinese or Russian—is politically toxic and constitutionally restricted.

Suggesting otherwise touches a raw nerve. But not talking at all about the extent of Indonesia’s diplomatic and military relationships with China and Russia is not in Australia’s interests either. If both sides don’t learn to talk more candidly about these issues, they risk fuelling misunderstanding, strategic surprise and backlash.

Beyond differing approaches to strategic competition, the Australia-Indonesia relationship remains hampered by persistent misperceptions. In Indonesia, Australia is still often viewed as a ‘deputy sheriff’ of the US, with lingering suspicions about its intentions toward Indonesian sovereignty. Conversely, many in Australia continue to see Indonesia as vulnerable—both in terms of susceptibility to elite capture and manipulation by malign powers, as well as being too sensitive to any uncomfortable diplomatic discussions. This is why Albanese’s visit must be more than ceremonial. It should mark the start of a more honest phase in the relationship—one where the differences are not hidden but worked through. Albanese and Prabowo must reflect on how their comprehensive strategic partnership can become more strategic rather than just comprehensive; characterised by enduring, persistent and tangible gains.

There is plenty to celebrate. The DCA institutionalised what has been a growing defence partnership, including joint training, maritime cooperation and disaster response. It also allows for a larger number of joint exercises. Economically, Australia’s Southeast Asia strategy acknowledges Indonesia as a top-tier priority, backed by new investment and commercial ties. In this context, Albanese’s decision to return to Jakarta sends the right signal. It shows Indonesia matters.

Prabowo’s positive view of Australia also creates a window of opportunity. He has spoken warmly of Australia in the past, often referencing Canberra’s support for Indonesian independence. His new role as president gives him a chance to reset the tone in Jakarta, after a decade in which relations were cordial but limited in strategic depth. Albanese and Prabowo both want to work together—but goodwill alone is not a strategy.

That means augmenting the standard regular, senior-level dialogues and engagements on strategic affairs, not just trade and investment, to deliver tangible solutions to common threats and challenges. These should address hybrid threats, climate security, and the misuse of emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence. In the past, Australia and Indonesia have successfully cooperated on issues such as counterterrorism and people smuggling—there’s no reason we can’t do the same on today’s emerging risks, risks that will determine future sovereignty and prosperity for both countries.

Tangible cooperation breaks down misperceptions and builds strategic trust—so capability, distinct from intent (on both sides), is consistently understood. This gives Indonesia space to confidently articulate its concerns about regional order. And it allows Australia to assure Indonesia it does not seek to fuel bloc-based confrontation. The prime minister has an opportunity to shape how the Australian system conceives of Indonesia—not as a reluctant participant or passive neighbour, but as a strategic partner in its own right.

This article was originally published in The Australian.

Indonesia is more important than ever: Australia must nurture the relationship

For more than decade, there have been signs that Australia is losing diplomatic access and influence in Indonesia.

This is cause for concern, given Indonesia’s size and influence in the Indo-Pacific, and because of the strategic benefit of its location along Australia’s northern approaches. Last month, Janes reported that Russia had requested aircraft access to Manuhua airbase at Biak in Indonesia’s Papua Province. And earlier this year, to circumnavigate Australia, the Chinese navy transited through Indonesia’s straits. At the same time, Indonesia has become increasingly enmeshed with China in economic, foreign policy and security terms.

As Australia considers the unreliability of the US security umbrella, it must pay more attention to the near north.

The causes of Canberra’s declining influence and Jakarta’s closer alignment to Beijing are complex and attributable to systemic and policy factors on both sides. In short, Indonesia’s economy and international political influence rose in the years after its 1998 democratic transition, reducing the traditional power asymmetry that had favoured Australia in economic and military terms.

The 2014 election of Joko Widodo, who replaced internationalist president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, saw a more transactional foreign policy. This policy emphasised trade, tourism and investment, placing them above democratic-norm promotion or strong leadership in the Association of Southeast Asian Nations to counter Beijing’s South China Sea divide-and-conquer tactics.

During Jokowi’s two terms (2014–2024), Chinese investment cooperation became central to Indonesia’s broader national development agenda, including the digital economy, infrastructure, energy transition and extractives.

With the increasing political influence of Indonesia’s military-security apparatus under President Prabowo Subianto, Indonesia’s interpretation of its ‘independent and active’ foreign policy doctrine is now more unpredictable. It is also less concerned about the optics of democratic regression domestically, or alignment with authoritarian states externally.

After his inauguration, Prabowo moved quickly to diminish the decision-making authority of the country’s liberal institutionalist foreign policy establishment. He appointed Sugiono, a former Army Special Forces lieutenant, as foreign minister and slashed the foreign ministry’s budget by more than 20 percent.

In November, Indonesia announced it would join BRICS and hold a naval exercise with Russia, undermining ‘Indonesia’s stated commitment to international law and weakening the country’s moral standing.’

Earlier that month, Indonesia announced a joint maritime development agreement with China acknowledging ‘overlapping claims’ in the South China Sea that seemed to legitimise Beijing’s illegal claims to parts of Indonesia’s exclusive economic zone. This prompted claims that the country was  ‘sleepwalking’ into strategic alignment with China.

But beyond Indonesia’s domestic politics and China’s rise, Australia too is responsible for its declining access and influence. The 2021 announcement that Canberra would acquire nuclear-powered submarines under the AUKUS agreement created deep, pervasive and lingering unease in Indonesia.

Moreover, successive Australian governments failed to align national defence and foreign policy priorities with an education policy that would nurture the next generation of Indonesia-literate Australians, as Hamish McDonald highlighted in a recent article.

Instead, Australia’s international policy bureaucracy has preferred generalists, who can be deployed anywhere in Canberra or on overseas postings. But this approach indicates that, unlike China, Australia has failed to understand that regional influence is based on trust built through enduring relationships, language and deep country expertise.

If Australia wants to stave off more unwelcome surprises, it must now use the networks of Australians with access to Indonesia’s inner military and political circles.

Considering the uncertainty around the Australia-US alliance under President Donald Trump’s administration, the prospect that Indonesia could indirectly facilitate a Chinese or Russian security presence through its waters and airspace must be addressed in Australia’s strategic calculus.

Changes in Indonesia’s domestic politics and the broader strategic environment over the past decade seem to conspire against us, but Australia is also responsible for its current dilemma. Australia’s policy approach to Indonesia requires new ways of thinking about how we can better use influence and access through defence, business, education, development and diplomatic networks. A more substantive tilt in Indonesia’s foreign and strategic policy alignment could create a strategic nightmare scenario for Australia.

US tariffs complicate Indonesian defence acquisition

Indonesia is weighing a purchase of more US weapons—such as the new F-15EX—as a bargaining chip against US President Donald Trump’s 32 percent tariffs on Indonesian exports to the United States. But that approach carries real dangers: relying too heavily on US hardware risks chipping away at Indonesia’s strategic independence.

That’s especially worrying right now, since Indonesia has been tightening its belt across all government sectors. While the defence ministry hasn’t been cut as deeply as other institutions, the future of its military modernisation efforts is looking uncertain.

A smarter approach would be to balance limited US purchases with diversified suppliers and stronger local industries, coupled with economic diplomacy to safeguard Indonesia’s security and sovereignty.

Trump’s tariffs are expected to hit Indonesia hard, targeting its US$20 billion export market to the US, potentially triggering economic fallout. Although the implementation of the tariffs was paused following a negotiation period, Indonesia’s economy has already felt the impact, with the rupiah sliding to its weakest level since 1998.

Nonetheless, Jakarta appears determined to secure a multibillion-dollar F-15EX deal as a bargaining chip to soften US trade policies, as reported. While it remains unclear whether the F-15EX is its top priority, Boeing representatives in Indonesia have been very active lately in promoting the aircraft. They even ran a one-page ad in Kompas, Indonesia’s leading newspaper, and held a sharing session for media and military enthusiasts.

One major highlight of Boeing’s plan to sell F-15EX to Indonesia is the company’s commitment to 85 percent local content. This makes it one of the most ambitious commitments on domestic components to date, given that Indonesian law requires at least 40 percent local content for major foreign arms acquisitions.

Nevertheless, Indonesia’s economy is under pressure, and doubling down on expensive US weaponry could further undermine its fiscal stability and self-reliance.

Over-reliance on US systems—such as the F-15EX—locks Indonesia into US supply chains, where delays in spare parts or shifts in Washington’s priorities could hamper its military readiness. Other countries, such as Turkey with its grounded F-35s, have already felt the sting of US export restrictions.

Similarly, European nations have taken steps to rejuvenate their local defence-manufacturing capabilities and gradually reduce their over-dependence on US systems. Moreover, Indonesia is no stranger to US arms embargoes.

Spending billions on US arms to appease trade demands could open a Pandora’s box, leaving Indonesia vulnerable to Washington’s whims and potentially undermining its ‘free and active’ foreign-policy doctrine.

It should be noted that Indonesia isn’t without options. Diversifying suppliers could relieve some pressure: France offers Rafale jets, Turkey provides drones and Italy supplies advanced frigates; all are viable alternatives to US hardware. Historically, Indonesia has maintained flexibility by procuring arms from multiple countries, and that remains a sound strategy.

Additionally, ongoing modernisation efforts within the armed forces—particularly the Indonesian air force—have reached their peak following the Rafale deal. The Rafale is a multirole jet offering capabilities comparable to those of the F-15.

Therefore, it would be unwise to duplicate this effort by procuring another aircraft with the same capabilities. Instead, Indonesia could focus on acquiring Sikorsky’s Black Hawk helicopters or even Boeing’s E-7 AEW&C and P-8 Poseidon aircrafts, allowing it to continue modernising while addressing strategically important but underserved capabilities.

Closer to home, Indonesia could reduce costs and build self-reliance by strengthening local defence industries—including PT PAL and Pindad, among others—which have successfully co-produced naval vessels and tanks. Their manufacturing capacity could be further enhanced through joint-development initiatives, including technology transfers and supply chains.

Recent research and development partnerships between Indonesia’s defence industries and Turkey underscore that Jakarta is on the right track. These moves would also decrease Jakarta’s exposure to US pressure while fostering economic growth and creating domestic jobs.

Yet diversification alone isn’t enough. Indonesia must balance its economic diplomacy, negotiating trade relief without overspending on arms it can ill afford. Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto and his cabinet, particularly the foreign affairs and defence ministers, should maximise Indonesia’s diplomatic leverage by striking win-win deals. One such element could be strategic US arms purchases—including advanced missiles and smart munitions—to maintain goodwill, provided these procurements do not dominate the budget or overall acquisition plan.

Indonesia’s security hinges on a delicate balance. Pairing skilful diplomacy with investments in diverse suppliers and local production offers a more secure path. History shows that nations thrive when they control their own destiny, not when they lean too heavily on a single ally. For Jakarta, that means a defence plan as pragmatic as it is ambitious—one that safeguards both its borders and its sovereignty.

No Russia in Papua: Indonesia’s quiet diplomacy speaks loudly

Indonesia’s low-key rejection of reported Russian interest in military basing in Papua says more than it appears to. While Jakarta’s response was measured, it was deliberate—a calculated expression of Indonesia’s foreign policy doctrine of non-alignment, domestic political caution and regional diplomatic restraint.

Australia may view the lack of outrage or strong rhetorical pushback from Jakarta as a sign of ambiguity or even strategic hedging. But this would be a misjudgement of how Indonesia navigates great power competition. The country’s preference for understated diplomacy is not a weakness; it is a product of deeply rooted principles and historical experience.

In early April, media reports emerged suggesting that Russia had requested to base long-range aircraft in Biak, a small island in Papua. The Indonesian defence ministry quickly issued a brief statement rejecting the report. No grandstanding, no televised press conferences and certainly no escalatory rhetoric.

This kind of restraint has long been part of Indonesia’s playbook, and it extends beyond public statements. When Australia’s defence minister contacted Indonesia’s defence minister to seek clarification, Indonesia conveyed its position clearly and directly: the report was false and Jakarta had no intention of allowing such basing. The message was firm and delivered through quiet but unambiguous diplomatic channels. Though some foreign observers may find it unsatisfying, this approach allows Indonesia to preserve room for manoeuvre.

Indonesia’s ‘independent and active’ doctrine is more than a slogan. Indonesia’s recent decision to join BRICS—a group where Russia plays a prominent role—may indicate a gesture of alignment, but it is better understood as part of Jakarta’s broader interest in multipolar forums. Such engagement supports Indonesia’s non-aligned policy, allowing it to engage multiple powers while avoiding entanglement in blocs.

Nevertheless, when combined with other issues, such as the Biak basing reports, it is understandable that these developments may concern Canberra. This non-aligned stance has helped Indonesia weather Cold War pressures, regional conflicts and, more recently, the strategic tug-of-war between the United States and China.

This concern reflects longstanding patterns in the Australia-Indonesia relationship. The relationship has long been shaped by shared strategic interests, from maritime security and disaster response to regional stability, even as it has experienced periods of tension and recalibration.

Jakarta responded to the Biak report with a firm but calm statement, showing its typical diplomatic style. At the same time, it was careful to ensure that partners such as Australia would not misunderstand its silence as uncertainty. These geographic realities heighten Canberra’s sensitivities, but they do not change Jakarta’s steady posture. Long-range Russian aircraft stationed in Indonesia, if ever realised, would understandably trigger strategic concern in Canberra.

Jakarta’s restraint is not an invitation to doubt its alignment or question its reliability. It is a signal of how it intends to manage rising geopolitical pressure: by staying calm, avoiding theatre and asserting control over its own narrative. That narrative is grounded in sovereignty and, yes, in a form of regional leadership that values stability over spectacle.

Indonesia also understands that loud declarations can backfire, especially when domestic dynamics are at play. In fact, civil society observers and policy analysts have openly reminded the Prabowo administration to remain sober and uphold Indonesia’s long-standing non-alignment, cautioning against any defence postures that could invite strategic misperception.

The government is sensitive to how Papua features in both international and domestic political debates. Amplifying the Biak story could have generated unnecessary heat and risked politicising a defence matter that Jakarta was keen to close quickly.

For Australia, the key is not to misread silence as passivity or fence-sitting. Indonesia’s approach may not always align with Canberra’s expectations of strategic signalling, but that does not make it opaque. Instead, it calls for a deeper understanding of how Indonesia communicates intent: often subtly, often on its own terms.

The Australia-Indonesia relationship is stronger when both sides recognise each other’s strategic cultures. Australia prefers clarity and predictability in foreign policy, while Indonesia sometimes keeps its position flexible to reduce external pressure. These differences are not flaws; they are features to be managed with mutual respect.

Misreading Indonesia’s restraint risks reinforcing a false binary: the idea that if a partner isn’t loudly with us, they must be against us. The idea that Australia needs to ‘do business with partners who have friends we don’t like’ oversimplifies the complexity of regional partnerships. Such phrasing may be analytically useful, but it risks normalising transactional attitudes in relationships that require nuance, reciprocity and long-term investment.

Indonesia’s foreign policy is rarely that binary. It is calibrated, complex and designed for flexibility. Recognising this approach for what it is—not a lack of commitment, but a deliberate form of regional statecraft—can help Australia navigate its strategic partnership with Indonesia more constructively.

Indonesia is hooked on Huawei

Huawei dominates Indonesia’s telecommunication network infrastructure. It won over Indonesia mainly through cost competitiveness and by generating favour through capacity-building programs and strategic relationships with the government, and telecommunication operators.

But Huawei’s dominance poses risks. It constrains Indonesia’s digital sovereignty and limits its strategic autonomy. To remain in control, Indonesia must take the issue of dependence seriously and incorporate strategic considerations in telecommunications decision-making.

Indonesia’s digital transformation is largely driven by the private sector, especially telecommunications operators. These operators depend on network equipment from foreign vendors. So foreign vendors serve as the backbone of national connectivity—and Huawei has long been recognised as a major player.

In 2019, then Indonesian minister of communication and information technology, Rudiantara, acknowledged Huawei’s significant role in the country’s telecommunications sector. The CFO of telecommunications operator XL Axiata echoed this, estimating that 60 to 70 percent of the industry relied on Huawei.

However, while Huawei is omnipresent in Indonesia’s digital infrastructure, the level of its market share has long remained unclear.

ASPI now has evidence of Huawei’s extensive dominance in Indonesia’s telecommunication equipment market. Based on an overview of major capital expenditure by some of Indonesia’s key telecommunications operators—XL, Indosat and Smartfren—we have found that 70 percent of their network equipment in 2024 came from Huawei. Information from Telkomsel, Indonesia’s largest telecom operator, was unavailable, but our finding still confirms that Huawei is a dominant provider of telecommunications network equipment to Indonesia. It has gained this position at the expense of older suppliers, including Ericsson, Nokia and Alcatel.

Vendors’ market share of operators’ major capital expenditure. Source: XL Axiata, Indosat OH and Smartfren financial statements. ZTE data annualised from Smartfren financial statements.

Technical and commercial considerations determine vendor selection in Indonesia. On the technical side, factors such as product lifecycle and the use of artificial intelligence play a significant role. Commercially, operators focus on costs, including payment terms.

Huawei’s cost competitiveness stems from state subsidies from the Chinese government, including tax breaks and support for research and development. These allow Huawei to offer competitive commercial terms, undercutting rivals. It can also provide competitively priced network maintenance services, as shown in its outsourcing agreement with XL Axiata.

Beyond costs, Huawei has also been able to win influence by offering a wide range of extra support, especially in the form of capacity-building. For instance, it has supported key government agencies—including the presidential palace, National Cyber and Crypto Agency and the military—by providing them with cybersecurity training.

Huawei has also established training centres and organised cybersecurity workshops at major Indonesian universities and vocational schools. Furthermore, Huawei actively cultivates relationships with influential policymakers and politicians by inviting them to Huawei headquarters and signing capacity-building agreements. A prominent official frequently engaged is Luhut Pandjaitan, a powerful political figure in the cabinet of former president Joko Widodo who now serves as chair of President Prabowo Subianto’s National Economic Council.

The Indonesian government has minimal involvement in vendor selection. Although laws exist on personal data protection and cybersecurity, there is no regulatory framework for assessing vendor dependency risks in the telecommunications sector or for assessing risks of vendors to national or economic security. Under the Science Act, the Ministry of Research and Technology can audit strategic technologies such as energy and agricultural technologies. However, there is limited public evidence of such audits occurring. This regulatory vacuum leaves Indonesia vulnerable to overdependence on a single foreign telecommunications vendor.

At the macro level, Huawei’s dominance exposes Indonesia to geopolitical risk. As the tech rivalry between the United States and China intensifies, Huawei—as well as ZTE—remains subject to restrictions in many Western economies. So Jakarta’s access to technology from Western countries could be limited and exacerbated by Huawei’s entrenchment in existing 4G infrastructure. Simply, Jakarta’s dependence on Huawei jeopardises its strategic autonomy: it has no real options.

At the micro level, Huawei’s market power puts operators at a significant disadvantage in negotiations; they’re simply price takers. Being reduced to price takers strips operators of their bargaining power: they are left vulnerable to the prospect of inflated costs dictated by Huawei, as switching vendors is complex and financially burdensome, creating a lock-in effect for next generation digital infrastructure. This effect could result in higher capital expenditure for operators, with costs passed on to consumers. Ultimately, Indonesians may face higher service prices, as their access to digital services becomes increasingly dependent on a single company.

These risks will escalate with the rollout of 5G. Unlike previous generations, 5G will underpin critical applications at the enterprise level, where any security lapse could have severe consequences. Now that Indonesia is so involved with Huawei, real alternatives are scarce. This not only has technical or commercial consequences, but it will also have political ramifications, where Indonesia’s strategic autonomy could be compromised. Hence, it is essential for the government to take a more active role in overseeing vendor selection and managing the risks associated with dependency on a single supplier.

Indonesia needs to rethink its approach to military drones

Indonesia’s armed forces still have a lot of work to do in making proper use of drones.

Two major challenges are pilot training and achieving interoperability between the services. Another is overcoming a predilection for big and costly drones instead of small ones like those wreaking havoc in Ukraine.

Training drone pilots is a time-intensive process, ranging from four to eight weeks for working with small drones and potentially years for large ones, which require skills akin to those of manned aircraft pilots. While operating small drones is comparatively simpler, it still necessitates proficiency in navigation, radio-signal management, manoeuvrability and target identification.

In Indonesia, the training for operators of large drones is largely bundled into arms procurement programs and typically involves air force personnel. But for small-drone operators, training is inconsistent and lacks standardised military instruction. Civilian training contractors are often engaged, but it’s doubtful that their programs align with operational, as the military has yet to develop a dedicated curriculum.

The next problem is ensuring effective coordination between drone units and members of other military branches, particularly electronic warfare teams. If one service jams signals from the drones of another, the equipment has little utility. Friendly fire must also be avoided.

The services need to coordinate also in planning and execution of missions and in damage assessment.

The Indonesian military, with its diverse force structure, has long had a problem in coordination. Introduction of drones is heightening the challenge. The introduction of an integrated tactical datalink system in 2024 is a step forward, but its effectiveness remains untested.

Indonesia’s pursuit of drone capabilities began nearly two decades ago. However, the momentum truly accelerated only in January, when the commander of the armed forces called for a doctrinal shift to align with emerging technological advancements, particularly emphasising the broader adoption of drones.

This was soon followed by a joint venture agreement between Turkey’s Baykar and Indonesia’s Republikorp for Indonesian production of 60 TB3 and nine Akinci drones. Meanwhile, the navy has raised the possibility of buying the Italian aircraft carrier Garibaldi, from which TB3s could operate.

Yet these developments prolong a pattern in Indonesia’s drone acquisition strategy: a persistent focus on procuring large drones. TB3s weigh not hundreds of grams or 1 kg, like a typical first-person-view drone, but 1.6 tonnes.

Evolving battlefield conditions demand that the forces look towards more comprehensive and layered drone deployment. Large and expensive drones must be complemented by a robust fleet of smaller, attritable drones.

In high-intensity conflicts and contested airspaces, large drones are vulnerable to dense air defence networks and electronic warfare countermeasures. Conversely, small drones have demonstrated sustained effectiveness under such conditions. Reports indicate that small drones account for 60 to 70 percent of Russian casualties in Ukraine, mainly due to their cost-effectiveness, ease of mass production and expendability.

Differences in drone employment persist across Indonesian military branches. The air force prioritises large drones for surveillance and strike missions, using 1.3-tonne CH-4s for patrols in the South China Sea and Aerostars of more than 200 kg in counterterrorism operations in Poso, a region of Sulawesi.

In contrast, the army and navy favour tactical and small drones for counterinsurgency and border security operations. Special forces and marines in Papua extensively use commercially available DJI, Autel and Ziyan drones, valuing their vertical take-off capabilities in constrained environments.

Integrating these varied platforms necessitates a doctrinal overhaul. A centralised data fusion centre for real-time intelligence sharing would allow drones to enhance precision strikes and battlefield awareness, aligning with the reconnaissance-strike complex model. Achieving this requires three elements: robust datalink infrastructure, seamless coordination and a steady pipeline of trained pilots.

Implementing a layered drone system offers three strategic advantages. First, it will streamline the military’s procurement process, preventing excessive platform diversification that exacerbates interoperability challenges and inflates lifecycle costs. Second, it optimises branch specialisation, reducing redundant efforts. Finally, treating drones as attritable assets necessitates a clear doctrinal framework that prioritises technological indigenisation. By concentrating defence investments on selected drone platforms, Indonesia can achieve economies of scale in production, ultimately driving down unit costs and fostering domestic defence industry growth.

As the Indonesian military expands its drone capabilities, success will hinge on more than just acquiring advanced platforms. Operational relevance and strategic effectiveness in modern warfare will be ensured through a well-balanced mix of large and small drones, backed by integrated training, robust data-sharing and doctrinal clarity.

This is not the time for increasing Indonesia’s defence spending

Indonesia could do without an increase in military spending that the Ministry of Defence is proposing. The country has more pressing issues, including public welfare and human rights. Moreover, the transparency and accountability to justify such a plan is also questionable.

The ministry proposed in January that defence spending should rise gradually to 1.5 percent of GDP by some unstated target year. The ratio has been 0.6 to 0.7 percent of GDP for the past decade, lower than that of many Southeast Asian neighbours and Indo-Pacific countries, including Japan, South Korea and India.

An increase to 1.5 percent would be subject to parliamentary approval. It could indeed significantly enhance Indonesia’s defence capabilities—for example, by modernising equipment, lifting research and development and improving welfare for military personnel.

With the extra money, Indonesia could prioritise key acquisitions such as radars, early warning aircraft, fighter jets, submarines and rescue submarines. The government could give military personnel higher performance allowances—bonuses that apply across the state sector and constitute large portions of employees’ remuneration. The armed forces’ allowance of 70 percent is low. Increasing it would help address longstanding concerns about the adequacy of military compensation.

Furthermore, Indonesia must enhance its defence capabilities given its strategic position overseeing four choke points, and concerns over airspace intrusions and maritime law violations. The current unstable geopolitical situation, especially in the South China Sea and around Taiwan, demands stronger defence.

However, such an increase must be handled transparently, accountably and with meaningful public participation, especially with 306 trillion rupiah (roughly A$35 billion) in budget cuts in other sectors. Indonesia has the democratic tools for proper oversight, but in practice the government and parliament do not attend closely to how the armed forces spend their money.

Moreover, this is the wrong time economically for increasing defence spending. The country is close to deflation and the danger to economic growth that it would bring. Prabowo is meanwhile slashing budgets for essential government activities such as healthcare, elementary and higher education, public works and infrastructure projects. Those are better places to spend any extra money that could be allocated to defence.

It isn’t at all clear that more military funding would be well spent. Indonesia lacks clear direction in defence policy. The government has yet to present a concrete plan following the failure of the Minimum Essential Force program, which concluded in 2024 with only 65 percent of the target assessed as achieved. Prabowo’s replacement program is Optimum Essential Force, but no concrete details have been announced. The public is increasingly sceptical of the administration’s ability to define a coherent defence policy.

The Indonesian Defence White Paper is outdated, being last revised in 2015. The global and regional security environment has evolved dramatically, and neighbouring countries—such as Vietnam, Malaysia and Cambodia—have updated their defence policies in that time. Cambodia, for instance, released its National Defence Policy in 2022 and its first Defence Strategic Update at the end of 2024, outlining Cambodia’s priorities such as border security, international peacekeeping and long-term reforms for its armed forces. In contrast, Indonesia appears to be lagging in addressing evolving security threats.

Indonesians have even more reason to be sceptical of rises in the defence budget as controversial military policy initiatives spark concerns about potential threats to democracy and seem to impede advancement of security sector reforms and professionalisation of the military. These include deeper influence down to the level of villages, helping with what should be a purely civil program to provide free nutritious meals, and assigning high-ranking active military officers to civilian roles. Revisions to the law governing the armed forces have added the growing suspicion about the military’s increasing role in civilian governance.

Altogether, this does not look like a good time to plan for more than doubling the armed force’s share of the national economy.

Indonesia’s cyber soldiers: armed without a compass

The Indonesian military has a new role in cybersecurity but, worryingly, no clear doctrine on what to do with it nor safeguards against human rights abuses.

Assignment of cyber responsibility to the military is part of controversial amendments to the Armed Forces Law which the parliament passed in March and which significantly broadened the armed forces’ role in civilian governance.

The government says these amendments are crucial for strengthening Indonesia’s capabilities in information operations, with the military playing a pivotal role in safeguarding national interests in cyberspace. Military officials have also said the military’s cyber capabilities will not be used to police digital spaces or restrict freedom of expression. They point to the establishment of the Singaporean armed forces’ cyber force in 2022 as a precedent and to cyber operations in the Russia-Ukraine war as developments the amendments aim to address.

However, cyber defence without a guiding doctrine is akin to navigating a battlefield without a compass. The Indonesian military lacks a published cyber strategy, so its mandate in cyberspace is unclear. The most recent strategic document, the Guidelines on Non-Military Defence, issued by the Defence Ministry in 2016, does not specifically address cyber operations and is now outdated. More recent policies, such as the 2020–2024 National Defence Implementation Policy and the 2023 State Defence Doctrine, mention cyberattacks and hybrid warfare but fail to clearly define the military’s role or response.

Important questions remain unanswered: What constitutes a cyber threat? Who are the adversaries? What measures are deemed appropriate responses?

Without clear answers, the military’s involvement in cybersecurity risks allowing actions that may infringe on civil liberties.

Historically, Indonesia’s security apparatus has prioritised conventional threats: separatism, terrorism and political instability. This traditional focus has shaped a strategic culture that is poorly equipped for the complexities of the digital realm. Since the establishment of its Cyber Unit in 2017, the Indonesian military has struggled to meet personnel requirements, filling only around 40 percent of planned positions.

Although recruitment criteria have been adjusted to attract more civilian talent, the shortened military education for these recruits has raised concerns among officials about their integration into military units, particularly regarding their understanding of the chain of command and commitment to military service. Rather than fostering a comprehensive cyber strategy, the recent amendments appear reactive, potentially leading to overreach and the suppression of dissent under the guise of national security.

Expanding the military’s role into cybersecurity also raises concerns about the militarisation of civilian spaces. Cybersecurity inherently intersects with civilian life, covering such issues as privacy, freedom of expression and access to information. Entrusting the military with significant authority in this domain, without stringent oversight and accountability, risks undermining democratic principles and human rights.

The military’s history of information operations complicates things. Traditionally, the Indonesian military has conducted psychological operations aimed at shaping public perception and behaviour. It has often portrayed online criticism as information warfare, sometimes framing it as part of a proxy war involving foreign entities attempting to erode public trust in the military.

This narrative is particularly evident in operations in Papua, where critics frequently highlight the military’s harsh treatment of civilians, its role in protecting government-approved businesses, and incidents involving the killing of non-combatants. Integrating such operations into the cyber realm without clear boundaries and oversight presents risks of enabling the manipulation of information, the dissemination of propaganda, and the suppression of dissenting voices under the pretext of maintaining national security.

Moreover, the process behind the amendments has drawn criticism for its lack of transparency and public consultation. Deliberations were reportedly fast-tracked and conducted behind closed doors and civil society was sidelined. This potentially risks unchecked military influence in civilian governance.

The digital age undoubtedly requires robust cybersecurity measures, but these must be underpinned by clear strategies and respect for values such as privacy and freedom of expression. Without a well-defined doctrine and appropriate safeguards, the military’s expanded role in cyberspace risks becoming a tool for repression rather than protection.

The new stipulation offers no substantial change from the military’s existing responsibilities to counter espionage and sabotage that target military networks and critical government infrastructure. It is therefore unclear which specific threats the new law seeks to address, especially given that an academic paper published by the parliament does not mention cyber threats even once.

To navigate this complex terrain responsibly, Indonesia must develop a comprehensive cyber strategy that clearly delineates military and civilian roles, establishes robust oversight mechanisms and upholds the democratic values that the nation has worked hard to build since the fall of authoritarian rule. Without such a framework, Indonesia’s cyber soldiers remain armed without a compass—operating on a complex digital battlefield without clear direction, to the potential detriment of the very freedoms they are meant to protect.

The threat spectrum

Democracy watch

Indonesia’s parliament passed revisions to the country’s military law, which pro-democracy and human rights groups view as a threat to the country’s democracy. One of the revisions seeks to expand the number of civilian agencies accessible to military personnel from 10 to 15, encompassing roles within the Coordinating Ministry for Political, Legal and Security Affairs, the Attorney General’s Office and the Supreme Court. The move is seen as blurring the line between military and civilian authority, effectively reviving the dual-function doctrine, under which the military had a role in both security and socio-political affairs.

ASEAN Parliamentarians for Human Rights warned that expanding the military’s role in domestic security could lead to suppression of peaceful protests and civil society activities. It also cautioned that Indonesia’s move could normalise military involvement in civilian affairs across the ASEAN region, reflecting similar patterns of democratic backsliding in countries like Thailand and Myanmar.

A Strategist article highlights that the revision should raise concerns for Australia, the United States and other democratic nations that backed Indonesia’s political and military reforms during the Reformasi period.

Planet A

According to the CSIRO, sea surface temperatures in Australia’s marine jurisdiction have risen by 1.08 degrees C since 1900, with the past decade being the warmest period on record. Sea surface temperatures around Australia have reached new records in the past five months, and oceans are expected to stay unusually warm throughout autumn.

Rising ocean temperature, salinity and acidity can alter how sound travels and, therefore, affect submarine detection. A 2024 study found that submarine detection ranges are decreasing due to changing conditions in strategic regions, such as the North Atlantic and Western Pacific.

Info ops

Misleading posts are circulating on Chinese social media platform Rednote, with some experts fearing that the content could interfere in Australian domestic affairs. The posts include AI-generated deepfake videos claiming that the Australian government plans to expel Chinese Australians and revoke their citizenships—a claim that officials have strongly denied. Researchers note that the app has a unique algorithm that makes it easy for misinformation to spread.

According to experts, the misleading content could be part of a broader political disinformation campaign aimed at sowing fear and distrust within migrant communities. A federal election will be held on 3 May. The Australian Electoral Commission has said it is not actively monitoring the platform.

Follow the money

Critical minerals are primed as bargaining chips in trade negotiations. A range of minerals central to high-tech supply chains, such as graphite and rare earth metals, were exempt from the tariffs that the United States imposed last week.

The Australian government has begun leveraging Australia’s rich mineral reserves in negotiations with the US. On 4 April, it announced plans for a ‘strategic critical minerals reserve’. But details are scant so far. It’s unclear whether the government intends to hold back a certain volume from export for use as leverage or to move more refining and processing onshore. The Minerals Council of Australia has treated the whole idea with caution.

Terror byte

The Trump administration has withdrawn funding for counterterrorism research, including a grant of nearly $1 million for a project led by the Australian National University.

The grant in question was provided by the US Department of Homeland Security to investigate the prevalence and nature of grievance-fuelled violence and acts of terrorism within the US. The department says the project was terminated as it ‘no longer effectuates department priorities’.

Experts warn that these cuts will weaken intelligence and law enforcement capabilities, particularly around far-right extremism.

Joint naval exercises with Russia undermine Indonesia’s commitment to international law

Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto has repeatedly asserted the country’s commitment to a non-aligned foreign policy. But can Indonesia still credibly claim neutrality while tacitly engaging with Russia?

Holding an unprecedented bilateral naval drills with Moscow in Indonesian waters while Russia wages a full-scale war against Ukraine is a strategic misstep. The move risks undermining Indonesia’s own stated commitment to upholding international law. It also creates a perception of inconsistency in its foreign policy and weakens its moral standing on the global stage.

In November 2024, Indonesia and Russia held their first-ever bilateral naval exercise, Orruda Joint Training, in the Java Sea near Surabaya. While Russia had previously participated in regional maritime drills with the Association of Southeast Asian Nations in 2021, this was the first time Jakarta engaged in naval exercises solely with Moscow. The move was deemed controversial, as it took place amid widespread condemnation of Russia for its serious breaches of international law.

Shortly after the drills with Russia, Indonesia also conducted its largest-ever combined military exercise with Australia, Keris Woomera. Taking place from 13 to 16 November under the Indonesia-Australia Defence Cooperation Agreement, the exercise involved around 2000 personnel from both nations’ navies, armies and air forces. Similarly, from 25 August to 6 September 2024, Indonesia hosted its annual Super Garuda Shield exercise with the United States in East Java. Twenty-three nations participated in the drills, with 11 countries actively involved in the exercises.

By conducting drills with both Russian and Western militaries, Indonesia emphasised its non-aligned stance. Analysts state that Jakarta was sending a signal to the world, particularly the Indo-Pacific region, that Indonesia will not take sides and intends to continue building relations with all major powers and regional players.

This position is often cited as part of Jakarta’s ‘free and active’ foreign policy, which reflects its desire to befriend all nations, regardless their political orientation. As Prabowo has stated on multiple occasions, ‘A thousand friends are too few, and one enemy is too many’.

Yet Indonesia’s decision to proceed with naval drills alongside Russia amid that country’s ongoing war in Ukraine is questionable.

Many legal experts have stated that Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine violates the UN Charter and constitutes one of the gravest breaches of international law: the crime of aggression.

On 27 February 2022, Indonesia joined 140 other countries in a UN General Assembly resolution that condemned Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, reaffirming its support for Ukraine’s sovereignty, independence unity, and territorial integrity. The resolution further ‘[deplored] in the strongest terms the aggression by the Russian Federation against Ukraine in violation of Article 2 (4) of the Charter’. This signals Indonesia’s apparent stance against Russian aggression—a signal that contradicts its justifications for the joint military exercises.

On 17 March 2023, the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants against Russia’s President Vladimir Putin and Maria Lvova-Belova, the Commissioner for Children’s Rights. This was followed by warrants on 5 March 2024 against Lieutenant General Sergei Kobylash and Admiral Viktor Sokolov for war crimes and crimes against humanity. On 24 June 2024, further warrants were issued for Defence Minister Sergei Shoigu and Chief of the General Staff Valery Gerasimov on similar charges.

Indonesia’s non-alignment provides the flexibility to engage in military training with any nation. However, conducting exercises with a state that is in flagrant violation of international law is highly imprudent, especially while the conflict is ongoing.

Moreover, if Jakarta intends to justify its position under the banner of non-alignment, it must revisit the principles set forth at the 1955 Bandung Conference, which served as the bedrock for the formal founding of the Non-Aligned Movement in 1961. Chief among these principles is mutual respect for sovereignty and non-aggression. Engaging in military training with an aggressor directly contradicts the very essence of non-alignment.

Tag Archive for: Indonesia

Can Canberra and Jakarta be more than ‘friends’?

As Anthony Albanese prepares to travel to Jakarta for his first state visit in his second term, the symbolism is clear: Indonesia remains a cornerstone of Australia’s foreign policy.

Since taking office, the Albanese government has prioritised Southeast Asia, laying important groundwork through initiatives such as the 2024 Defence Co-operation Agreement with Indonesia and the Southeast Asia Economic Strategy. But the tangible reality of the relationship with Indonesia remains limited by diverging strategic visions, misaligned expectations and a reluctance to address hard topics.

This means the Prime Minister’s visit must go beyond symbolism. If this partnership is to mature, both sides must start talking honestly about where they differ, where they want to go and how best to get there in lock-step. That’s because beneath the surface of two democracies, the two countries have taken different paths when it comes to issues such as dealing with Russia post the 2022 Ukraine invasion and the region’s most pressing strategic question: how to deal with China.

Since entering office, the Albanese government has approached its China policy through the prism of stabilisation – along with the formula of co-operating where we can, disagreeing where we must, and engaging in the national interest. At the same time, through AUKUS and its support for the Quad, Canberra has doubled down on its alliance with the US and its commitment to a balance-of-power strategy in the Indo-Pacific. It believes US military presence is essential to maintaining regional stability, and it is prepared to take risks to preserve that status quo. Indonesia does not see conflict as inevitable. Instead, it wants to keep both the US and China engaged in multilateral diplomacy, with ASEAN as the central platform. It sees minilateral groupings such as AUKUS and the Quad as challenges to ASEAN’s relevance and Indonesia’s role as a regional power.

Even as Indonesian officials cautiously welcome some aspects of these arrangements, such as the potential for technology sharing or regional deterrence, they remain uneasy about their long-term impact. This divergence is not academic. It affects how each country responds to crises, how they define regional order and how they prioritise partnerships.

Australia is comfortable with hard-edge strategic competition. Indonesia is not. This difference in world views can’t be papered over with warm language or economic initiatives. It needs to be acknowledged, discussed and managed. The recent controversy over claims (subsequently retracted) by outgoing opposition leader Peter Dutton that President Prabowo Subianto had publicly announced a request by Russia to host a naval base in Biak is a case in point. The episode revealed a deeper problem: a lack of trust in how each country interprets and communicates security concerns. In Indonesia, the hosting of any foreign military base – whether Australian, American, Chinese or Russian – is politically toxic and constitutionally restricted.

Suggesting otherwise touches a raw nerve. But not talking at all about the extent of Indonesia’s diplomatic and military relationships with China and Russia is not in Australia’s interests either. If both sides don’t learn to talk more candidly about these issues, they risk fuelling misunderstanding, strategic surprise and backlash.

Beyond differing approaches to strategic competition, the Australia-Indonesia relationship remains hampered by persistent misperceptions. In Indonesia, Australia is still often viewed as a “deputy sheriff” of the US, with lingering suspicions about its intentions toward Indonesian sovereignty. Conversely, many in Australia continue to see Indonesia as vulnerable – both in terms of susceptibility to elite capture and manipulation by malign powers, as well as being too sensitive to any uncomfortable diplomatic discussions. This is why Albanese’s visit must be more than ceremonial. It should mark the start of a more honest phase in the relationship – one where the differences are not hidden but worked through. Albanese and Prabowo must reflect on how their “comprehensive strategic partnership” can become more strategic rather than just comprehensive; characterised by enduring, persistent and tangible gains.

There is plenty to celebrate. The DCA institutionalised what has been a growing defence partnership, including joint training, maritime co-operation and disaster response. It also allows for a larger number of joint exercises. Economically, Australia’s Southeast Asia strategy acknowledges Indonesia as a top-tier priority, backed by new investment and commercial ties. In this context, Albanese’s decision to return to Jakarta sends the right signal. It shows Indonesia matters.

Prabowo’s positive view of Australia also creates a window of opportunity. He has spoken warmly of Australia in the past, often referencing Canberra’s support for Indonesian independence. His new role as President gives him a chance to reset the tone in Jakarta, after a decade in which relations were cordial but limited in strategic depth. Albanese and Prabowo both want to work together – but goodwill alone is not a strategy.

That means augmenting the standard regular, senior-level dialogues and engagements on strategic affairs, not just trade and investment, to deliver tangible solutions to common threats and challenges. These should address hybrid threats, climate security, and the misuse of emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence. In the past, Australia and Indonesia have successfully co-operated on issues such as counter-terrorism and people smuggling – there’s no reason we can’t do the same on today’s emerging risks, risks that will determine future sovereignty and prosperity for both countries.

Tangible co-operation breaks down misperceptions and builds strategic trust – so capability, distinct from intent (on both sides), is consistently understood. This gives Indonesia space to confidently articulate its concerns about regional order. And it allows Australia to assure Indonesia it does not seek to fuel bloc-based confrontation. The Prime Minister has an opportunity to shape how the Australian system conceives of Indonesia – not as a reluctant participant or passive neighbour, but as a strategic partner in its own right.