Choreographed Knowledges

This page contains a growing timeline developed with and for Julia Sarisetiati's research and work on, around, and with migrant workers from Indonesia–individually, collectively, collaboratively, cooperatively, and a mixture of it all. This timeline is developed with Ary 'Jimged' Sendy, Grace Samboh, Julia Sarisetiati, Rachel K. Surijata, Ruhaeni Intan, with contributions from JJ Rizal.

The timeline is written in bahasa Indonesia with English translation is by Akmalia Rizqita “Chita” and Japanese translation by Haruko Kumakura. Recent development of the timeline is commissioned by Kyongfa Che for the exhibition Choreographies of the everyday (Aug 23-Nov 24, 2025), celebrating the 30th anniversary of the Museum of the Contemporary Art Tokyo.

About the timeline

This timeline traces how education became a tool: To sort bodies, train workers, pacify unrest, domesticate desire. It’s about the shifting techniques of governance (be it colonial or of equals) that taught people what they were allowed to become. But it’s also about refusal—about the skills that leak out of textbooks, the rituals that resist syllabi, the know-how passed between hands. What appears as “policy” in one entry might reappear as exile in another.

The timeline carries weight—physically, textually, structurally. To read it, you might have to crouch, turn, walk sideways. That movement echoes the entries themselves: where bodies are bent by state agendas, where migrant workers rehearse for futures not entirely their own. This choreography of adaptation—of being made compatible—is one of the timeline’s deepest concerns. It invites you to notice not just what you learned, but how, and why, how much, and at what cost.

This timeline is unfinished—and never meant to be. It follows chronological time, yes. But you’re free to follow your own sequence. Start wherever you like. In order or out of it. Three entries might be enough to feel the pulse—how migration, schooling, and labor constellate through laws, loopholes, and loss. Some pieces will feel familiar. Others might press at memories you forgot were yours. Shall we?

1546, 1602–1800

From Ternate to Batavia: Between the cross, the sword, and the pen

In 1546, Francis Xavier arrived in Ternate, leading a Jesuit mission to establish seminaries as instruments for spreading the Catholic faith. The schools in Ternate and Solor were even considered more advanced than those in Goa, which at the time was the centre of Portuguese power in Asia. A century before the arrival of the Dutch, Portuguese merchants had already settled in eastern regions of nusantara, bringing missionaries who saw education as a crucial part of both their spiritual and political missions.

In 1596, the first Dutch fleet landed in Banten. Officially established in 1602, the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC) took over the trade routes, inheriting—and modifying—the Portuguese approach. As the world’s first multinational corporation, with the authority to wage war, mint currency, and forge treaties, the VOC monopolised trade across Asia and supported Christian missionaries such as the Nederlands Zendelingen Genootschap (NZG). Christian schools were first established in Ambon and Banda, later expanding to Batavia, funded by the VOC instead of the Dutch government—true to their motto: Gold, Gospel, Glory.

Meanwhile, Islamic education had long been present throughout the nusantara archipelago, focusing on reading, writing, and arithmetic in Malay—the everyday language of trade. These layers of education laid the foundation for knowledge systems that would later evolve and intertwine within the history of education and labour in Indonesia.

1680

From the palace to villages: Traces of education without schools

In the Maluku palace, daughters of the kolano were nurtured through home teaching: reading, writing, wood carving, embroidery, spinning yarn, and weaving. All of it took place within the domestic realm—which also served as a space for inheriting cosmology, social status, and ancestral symbols. It was there that values and skills were passed down—without schoolbooks.

Meanwhile, in South Sulawesi, local communities preserved their histories through elders and traditional storytellers. Stories of their origins, rituals, and agricultural patterns were transmitted through tales and chants, from one generation to the next. Even the smallest villages carried historical traces and traditions, carefully safeguarded by elders—evidence that identity and knowledge did not rely on the state school system.

As noted by Barbara Watson and Leonard Andaya, systems of skill-based and ethical education existed long before formal schooling. Teaching took shape through palace tales and village rituals alike—embedded in the everyday lives of the community.

1769, 1798, & 1799

Educating in the name of ruling: Population, production, and the politics of education

In 1798, Thomas Robert Malthus warned that uncontrolled population growth would surpass the Earth’s capacity to provide food. His theory influenced population and education policies in many nations. In authoritarian regimes, it was used to justify strict birth control, while democratic nations used it to promote sex education, reproductive health services, and introduce planned parenthood. In both approaches, education was positioned as an instrument to stabilise the population and prevent poverty.

Globally, the Industrial Revolution and Green Revolution reinforced dependence on skilled labour. The invention of the steam engine (1769) and the use of fossil energy from the late 18th century spurred colonialism and the reorganisation of labour in the Dutch East Indies to serve the interests of plantations and mining. Malthus’ idea gained traction amidst the production boom and urban migration triggered by the Industrial Revolution, which drastically reshaped social structures. In the 20th century, the Green Revolution transformed agriculture in Indonesia: mechanisation, surplus rural labour, and migration to cities or abroad became widespread. Education, in this context, was not aimed at liberating the people but rather at moulding them to meet the demands of production and social stability .

Following the dissolution of the VOC (1799) and the establishment of direct colonial rule, the education that was managed by churches such as the NZG, was taken over by the colonial government. Instead of fostering intellectual development, schools were designed to produce low-skilled labourers. Education became part of a framework of social control and population management, a legacy that persists to this day.

Nevertheless, various forms of community-based education continued to grow outside of the nation’s control. Surau (small Islamic prayer houses and learning centres), pesantren (traditional Islamic boarding schools), and people’s reading houses preserved knowledge that are rooted in spiritual values, local languages, and communal solidarities. In Minangkabau, surau even evolved into centres of education reform from as early as the 19th century, long before the establishment of political schools. These routes show that education was not always top-down—it could also emerge from the ground up, as a response to social pressures and colonialism.

1783

Embedded knowledge: Skills and crafts before the existence of ‘education’

Children learned by helping their parents and neighbours. From an early age, they prepared stoves, spun drills, refilled weaving tools, and filtered ore—absorbing not only techniques, but embedded knowledge, familiarity with local materials, and ways of working together. This was not merely “domestic craft”; it was intergenerational technology intimately tied to trade, land, and ceremony.

In 1783, William Marsden published his observations on Sumatra—describing long-established traditions of learning and expertise that predated his arrival by centuries. His publication recorded, among other things: Ironworkers mined ore at Iron Mountain (near Lake Singkarak) and smelted it in Salimpuang. Local blacksmiths—such as swordmakers in Payakumbuh and agricultural toolmakers in Lima Kaum / Tanah Datar—met the needs of both their communities and the colonial market. While the steel industry in Sheffield was just beginning to develop, these communities had already established sophisticated metallurgical practices using local furnaces and highland ore.

Gold and silver filigree artisans, particularly around Padang, created intricate ornaments using simple tools. Their craft—comparable in refinement to 7th-century BCE Etruscan filigree or 17th-century Mughal goldwork—developed independently, often adopting Chinese bellows and coastal innovations, but never relying on European education.

Textile weaving, carried out by women in Malay-speaking communities, included complex patterned weaving and embroidery using silk and gold threads. Long before the Jacquard machine revolutionised textile production in Europe, Minangkabau women were producing richly patterned fabrics—laden with meaning, memory, and prestige—particularly in coastal settlements connected to interregional trade routes.

1808 & 1817-1819

The education system and access during the Daendels Era

Under the authority of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, King Louis Bonaparte appointed Herman Willem Daendels, a rising military officer, to serve as Governor-General in the Dutch East Indies. Daendels instructed local regents in Java to establish pribumi schools, although these efforts largely failed due to the implementation of forced labour systems that brought suffering to the people. He also founded a ronggeng dance school in Cirebon and a midwifery school in Batavia, prompted by the high infant mortality rates resulting from inadequate healthcare facilities. Although he ruled the Dutch East Indies for only three years (1808–1811), Daendels left a legacy of militaristic leadership that can still be traced in both the state administrative system and the educational system in Indonesia today.

Following his departure, control of the Dutch East Indies was transferred to the British until 1816. Despite being led by Thomas Stamford Raffles, a statesman with a deep love for knowledge, best known for his History of Java—the education system saw little development under British rule. It was only later, under the leadership of the new Governor-General, Van der Cappellen, that new regulations were introduced, marking a significant shift in the development of education in the Dutch East Indies. Among these was the enactment of the 1818 Statute, which declared that the Dutch East Indies government was responsible for regulating the education system for pribumi children, although it bore no obligation to provide the schools itself—this responsibility was transferred to other parties. While this statute ultimately deepened the gap in educational access between Europeans and the pribumi population, it nonetheless marked the beginning of a transformation from traditional to colonial educational systems in the Dutch East Indies.

1826, 1845, & 1847

Towards the Ethical Policy: Race-based education

The growth of People’s Schools gradually increased the demand for teachers. This was further supported by King Willem II’s decree, issued on 30 September 1848, Number 95, which authorised Governor-General Van den Bosch to allocate ƒ25,000 per year to build native schools on the Island of Java. As a result, in 1852, the first teacher training school was founded in Surakarta. Its students were drawn from Javanese noble class, while the teachers had undergone training known as the Normaal Cursus, an educational programme at the time specifically designed to produce rural educators.

During this period, although a small number of selected natives gained access to education, there was a clear tendency to segregate education based on racial and social class distinctions. Europeans in the Dutch East Indies, Chinese, local aristocrats, and common natives, each received different forms of education. Such a tendency was evident in the establishment of Sekolah Bangsawan/The Nobles’ School (Hoofdensschool) in Minahasa in 1865, which was exclusively reserved for children of local regents. These children were trained to become the officials of Pangreh Praja (the colonial bureaucracy staffed by natives), and the school offered a more advanced curriculum than other native schools, with Dutch as the primary language of instruction.

In general, the education system during this period possessed dualistic and discriminatory characteristics, separating schools for Europeans, pribumi, and the Chinese. This discriminatory division affected various aspects of education, from the curriculum to the language of instruction—whether Dutch or local languages. Low-level schools for ordinary natives focused solely on basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. In contrast, schools for European children, Chinese descendants, and the nobility included more subjects such as geography, natural sciences, drawing, and history.

1830-1870

Forced cultivation: A system that impoverished farmers

The Forced Cultivation System (Cultuurstelsel), imposed by the Dutch colonial government from 1830 onwards, introduced the concept of linear time and production targets, which were previously unknown in local work cultures that were more flexible and cyclical. Under this system, farmers were required to cultivate a portion of their land—about one-fifth—with export crops designated by the colonial authorities, such as sugarcane, coffee, indigo, and tobacco. Farmers had no freedom to choose crops that suited their livelihood needs or local soil conditions. All decisions regarding crop types, land allocation, and production targets were dictated by the colonial government to meet European market demands.

As a result of this policy, farmers lost control over their own land. The time and energy they once devoted to growing food for their families were now spent serving colonial interests. Failure to meet the imposed obligations could result in penalties such as fines, additional forced labour, or other forms of coercion. In many cases, implementation was accompanied by violence, deception, and corruption by both local and colonial officials.

Many farmers fell into poverty as they could no longer sustain their livelihoods from their own harvests. In some regions, famine occurred because land had been diverted to export crops, while food production dropped sharply. On the other hand, this exploitative system generated enormous revenue for the Dutch treasury.

1848, 1852, 1865, & 1892

Towards the Ethical Policy: Race-based education

The growth of People’s Schools gradually increased the demand for teachers. This was further supported by King Willem II’s decree, issued on 30 September 1848, Number 95, which authorised Governor-General Van den Bosch to allocate ƒ25,000 per year to build native schools on the Island of Java. As a result, in 1852, the first teacher training school was founded in Surakarta. Its students were drawn from Javanese noble class, while the teachers had undergone training known as the Normaal Cursus, an educational programme at the time specifically designed to produce rural educators.

During this period, although a small number of selected natives gained access to education, there was a clear tendency to segregate education based on racial and social class distinctions. Europeans in the Dutch East Indies, Chinese, local aristocrats, and common natives, each received different forms of education. Such a tendency was evident in the establishment of Sekolah Bangsawan/The Nobles’ School (Hoofdensschool) in Minahasa in 1865, which was exclusively reserved for children of local regents. These children were trained to become the officials of Pangreh Praja (the colonial bureaucracy staffed by natives), and the school offered a more advanced curriculum than other native schools, with Dutch as the primary language of instruction.

In general, the education system during this period possessed dualistic and discriminatory characteristics, separating schools for Europeans, natives, and the Chinese. This discriminatory division affected various aspects of education, from the curriculum to the language of instruction—whether Dutch or local languages. Low-level schools for ordinary natives focused solely on basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. In contrast, schools for European children, Chinese descendants, and the nobility included more subjects such as geography, natural sciences, drawing, and history.

1881, 1904, & 1911

Towards the ethical politics: The birth of vocational education

To support the smooth running of colonial bureaucracy, the Dutch East Indies government began establishing vocational schools that offered specialised skills to their students. The graduates were then stationed in European trading companies, plantations, and some became government officials. Vocational schools established in Java between 1881 and 1911 included: Craftsmanship School (Ambachts Leergang) which produced skilled labourers in carpentry, metalwork, electricity, automotive, and construction; Senior High Carpentry School (Ambachtsschool), which produced skilled labourers in the same field but trained to become foremen; Technical School (Technish Onderwijs), the next level after the Ambachtsschool, designed to produce skilled supervisors working under engineers; Trade Education School (Handels Onderwijs) established to meet the needs of European trading companies in the Dutch East Indies that was growing rapidly; Agricultural Education School (Landbouw Onderwijs), Agricultural School (Cultuurschool) and Senior High Agricultural School (Middelbare Landbouwschool) which trained skilled labourers for European plantations; and Women’s Vocational School (Meisjes Vakonderuijs) pioneered by Kartini and Dewi Sartika.

1890–1939

The beginning of overseas labour dispatch: Javanese diaspora in Suriname

Towards the end of the 19th century, the colonial government sent thousands of people from Java to the Dutch West Indies, or now known as Suriname, to be employed as contract labourers. Between 1890 and 1939, as many as 31,499 individuals were recorded to have been transported in waves to what was then called The Dutch Guiana. Most of the Javanese sent to the region worked as plantation labourers, as they had no other skills beyond their physical labour. When Indonesia declared its independence in 1945, the first generation of the Javanese diaspora in Suriname was promised repatriation. However, only about 8,000 people managed to return. The rest remained and later contributed to the founding of the Republic of Suriname, which only gained their independence in 1975. This deployment of contract labourers to the Dutch Guiana marked one of the earliest practices of sending labourers abroad from the Dutch East Indies. The aim was to address a labour shortage on the plantations, which had persisted since slavery was officially abolished on 1 July 1863. The resulting labour crisis left many plantations neglected, severely impacting the economy of Dutch Guiana—or the West Indies at large—which relied heavily on agricultural production.

1893-1896

Knowledge and learning from the Highlands

In the highlands of Enrekang and Tana Toraja, the construction of tongkonan traditional houses is rooted in cosmological spatial principles and joinery techniques using wood without nails. Building a house is not merely a matter of construction, but an architectural practice passed down through communal labour, customary rituals, and the guidance of elders.

In the Bugis lowlands, the making of pinisi boats, stilt houses, wet-rice farming systems, and folk astronomy, which determines planting and sailing seasons, are embedded in everyday life. Children learn by accompanying their parents to the rice fields and shipyards—memorising the sky, following the seasons, absorbing local wisdom without books or blackboards.

Bugis and Makassar women weave sarung and baju bodo garments using hand-spun thread, following ancestral patterns embedded with family symbols, caste markers, and cosmological meaning. These patterns and techniques are taught from mother to daughter, from hand to hand, in domestic spaces that are also spaces of creation and instruction.

The cousins of explorers Paul and Fritz Sarasin encountered these practices during their journey in 1893–96—long before European-style education reached the remote areas of Sulawesi. In Indigenous communities, skills, values, and knowledge are passed down in a single breath—not from curricula, but from life itself.

1899, 1907, & 1908

Schools, awareness, and the legacy of educated pribumi

J.B. van Heutsz, the Governor-General cloaked in modernity, transformed Ethical Politics into a mass project of literacy—Sekolah Desa/Village School (1901), Schakel School (1903), and textbooks that taught arithmetic while instilling gratitude for being obedient child of the colony. “The people must be taught to read and write, so that their minds may develop. Only through education can we bring the progress required for civilisation,” he declared at Banteng Park (1907).

These schools were not established for liberation, but to enable a more systematic colonisation. From behind the writing desk, an irony was born: when the people learned to read, they began to read the world. Abdul Rivai, a Javanese doctor from STOVIA, practiced resilience with his pen. In Europe, he published Indonesian Students in Europe (1904) which exposed the false promises of colonial education: Restricted “progress”, and tightly controlled mobility. He was not alone. In 1908, ‘Perhimpunan Hindia’ (Indies Association), in the Netherlands and ‘Budi Utomo’ in Jakarta corresponded in shared concerns. Both organisations were born from the same womb—colonial schools—but took different paths. Budi Utomo championed the courtesy of elite priyayi, producing teachers and bureaucrats who became the backbone of colonial administration. Perhimpunan Hindia was more radical, forging networks with socialist and anti-imperialists activists. Both left a long-lasting legacy: from the war technocrats of the Japanese occupation, to the development bureaucrats of the New Order. Schools remained a pathway of mobility, but they also became sites for producing obedience.

To this day, those traces persist. Education is still framed as a personalinvestment, rather than a tool for liberation. From those historical ruins, Abdul Rivai reminds us: “Education is not the Dutch’s mirror, but our own reflection.” And from that reflection, we learn to ask: who writes the question, and who decides the answer?

1901

The birth of the Ethical Policy: The beginnings of the nationalist movement initiated by the educated class

The history of Indonesia’s nationalist movement began when the colonial government introduced the idea of the Ethical Policy or Politics of Gratitude (Politik Balas Budi) in the early 20th century. This idea was first proclaimed by Queen Wilhelmina during her inauguration on 17 September 1901, in which she declared that the Dutch East Indies government owed a moral debt to the pribumi population due to the suffering inflicted by the cultivation system (cultuurstelsel) imposed since 1830 under Governor-General Johannes van den Bosch.

The Ethical Policy was built on three main pillars, commonly referred to as the Trias Politica: an irrigation programme aimed at improving water systems to support agriculture; an emigration programme intended to reduce population density on the island of Java by relocating people to other regions; and an education programme designed to broaden access to schooling for the pribumi.

Its implementation was not free of corruption. However, the policy succeeded in giving rise to a class of educated pribumi elites who played a leading role in the nationalist movement and helped cultivate a sense of national consciousness that would later fuel the struggle for independence of Indonesia.

During this period, Dutch schools, previously reserved for European children, began to admit pribumi students, albeit prevailing racism and discrimination. A tiered education system, from primary to advanced schooling, became known and accessible to pribumi students.

It began with the Hollandsch-Inlandsche School (HIS) or Europeesche Lagere School (ELS)—seven-year primary schools that followed the same curriculum and teaching methods as those in the Netherlands. Graduates of HIS or ELS could continue to Meer Uitgebreid Lager Onderwijs (MULO) or Hogere Burger School (HBS), the first advanced secondary schools open to pribumi. Upon completing MULO, students could then pursue studies at the School tot Opleiding van Inlandsche Artsen (STOVIA); a seven-year medical school, or Algemeen Metddelbare School (AMS); a higher secondary institution.

1901

Schools, faith, and control

Since the implementation of Ethical Politics, education for pribumi was expanded. This development was seized upon by the Zending Gereformeerd to preach the Bible through educational institutions. The birth of this organisation in the Dutch East Indies was closely connected with the colonial government’s long-standing ambition to establish more western-style schools for the natives. To support this, Zending schools were granted easy licensing and even subsidised by the colonial government, as these schools were seen as aligned with the mission of the Ethical Politics: to advance the civilisation of the natives. In these schools, loyalty to the colonial government and to the Queen of the Netherlands were deliberately instillied in their students’ hearts. Such doctrines were strongly emphasised as the zendeling believed that the people in Indonesia still required—and would continue to require—their guidance for a long time to come. Consequently, when the national awakening eventually emerged, many of the zendeling regarded the movement as a revolutionary threat that ought to be rejected. This pattern—faith-based education intertwined with political control—would later resurface in other forms during the New Order, etc.

1908, 1912, & 1920

Waves of awareness and community emancipation

In addition to the state schools established by the Dutch East Indies government, increasing numbers of privately founded schools began to emerge. For students of Chinese descent, primary education was available at the Hollandsch-Chineesche School (HCS), which offered a curriculum equivalent to that of the Europeesche Lagere School (ELS).

Before the establishment of HCS in 1908, Chinese children typically received informal education at home, often through private tutors brought in from either the Netherlands or China. The rise of Chinese nationalism around 1900 also sparked an emancipation movement. The first Chinese emancipation association, Tiong Hoa Hwee Koan, was founded in Jakarta, 1900, with the aim of improving education within the Chinese community.

This wave of emancipation gained momentum following Japan's victory over Russia in 1905 and the Chinese Revolution in 1911. The Chinese-Indonesian community began to demand equal rights and status with Europeans, perceived as threatening by the Dutch colonial authorities. In response, the government devised a number of strategies to suppress this growing nationalist sentiment, including the provision of Dutch-Chinese schools throughout the colony.

Other than HCS, private education was also pursued by Islamic reformist groups, such as Muhammadiyah. This movement began when K.H. Ahmad Dahlan, a reform-minded kyai, founded a school in Kauman, Yogyakarta in 1908. In addition to religious studies, the school was considered modern for its time, using desks and blackboards, and offering lessons in Malay language, arithmetic, geography, biology, and literacy in Latin script.

1913, 1920, & 1924

Colonial higher education

Other than the pressure of Ethical Politics, higher education in this period also emerged from the colonial government’s need for more skilled labour.

In response to their concerns about the shortage of healthcare workers to tackle various life-threatening diseases in the colonies, the School tot Opleiding van Inlandsche Artsen (STOVIA) was established in Batavia, alongside the Nederlandsch-Indische Artsen School (NIAS) in Surabaya. Both medical schools evolved from the earlier education systems of Sekolah Dokter Jawa (Javanese Doctor School) which had been founded in 1851 at the Weltevreden Military Hospital (now Gatot Soebroto Army Hospital, Jakarta) to become medical higher education institution. Prior to the establishment of STOVIA, higher education could only be pursued abroad, most notably in the Netherlands, and was accessible exclusively to the priyayi or the European descent.

The colonial government also began establishing other higher education institutions to meet the growing demand for administrative personnel. Sekolah Tinggi Teknik Bandung/Bandung Technical School (Technische Hoogeschool Bandoeng) was established in 1920 to train experts in constructions of main roads, railways, and irrigation systems. Meanwhile, Sekolah Tinggi Hukum Batavia/Batavia School of Law (Rechtshoogeschool te Batavia or RH) was established in 1924. Much like STOVIA, RH was a higher education institution that shifted the education pathway for prospective bumiputra officials from the elite-focused system—previously channelled through School for Nobility (Hoofdensschool) and the Opleidingsschool voor Inlandsche Rechtskundigen (OSVIR)—to a law school accessible to pribumi youths who had graduated from HIS and MULO. The graduates were intended to occupy lower-ranking positions in the colonial administration, which had previously been reserved for Europeans.

1922-1941

The wild and the growing: Schools as seeds of nationhood

After the Ethical Policy was launched in 1901, the Dutch East Indies government began establishing schools. But access was highly selective: only European children, a few priyayi, and wealthy Chinese-Indonesian entrepreneurs were considered worthy of learning to read. Amidst this discriminatory system, independent partikelir schools began to emerge. Ki Hadjar Dewantara founded Taman Siswa on 3 July 1922—not merely as an alternative, but as a political statement. These schools would later be labelled “wild,” not because they operated in secret, but because they refused to be tamed.

Abruptly, on 1 October 1932, the colonial government issued the Wildescholen Ordonantie (Wild Schools Ordinance)—a regulation requiring all non-state schools to obtain a permit. Teachers were also required to register with the Hoofd van Gewestelijk Bestuur (Head of Regional Administration); failure to comply could result in up to one month in prison or a 100-guilder fine.

The ordinance targeted partikelir schools believed to be sowing seeds of nationalism—including Taman Siswa itself. Though it had been operating for a decade, the school was shut down. Ki Hadjar fought back with a telegram, demanding the ordinance be repealed and threatening civil disobedience.

In 1933, the ordinance was revoked. Taman Siswa expanded rapidly, with over 11,000 students in Yogyakarta and Central Java by the eve of independence. The school was not just a place of learning—it was a space for shaping popular thought and the spirit of freedom.

By 1936, there were 1,663 wild schools with 114,000 students. The number continued to rise: 129,565 students in 1937, and 230,000 by 1941. They spread across and beyond Java. This movement grew not only from nationalist fervour, but also from the economic depression of the 1930s. Many teachers who lost their jobs in state schools went on to teach in partikelir schools—which, in fact, were more open to curricula grounded in the lives of ordinary people.

Lessons in wild schools were not standardised, but often centred on values of nationhood, self-reliance, and life skills. The aim was not to produce bureaucrats, but to awaken children to the fact that they were subjects of history.

1932 & 1933

Dutch East Indies students in the coloniser’s homeland

In the early 1930s, a small number of youths from the Dutch East Indies began pursuing higher education in two vastly different countries, and yet were in the centres of global imperial power: the Netherlands and Japan. Both opened up new sites for intellectual mobility of pribumi—with complex implications for political consciousness and nationalism.

In the Netherlands, the Koninklijke Militaire Academie (KMA) in Breda began accepting prospective pribumi military officers in 1933. Only a select few were admitted, as the entry requirements were stringent: candidates had to be graduates of HBS, fluent in Dutch, and preferably of noble descent. Some of the graduates—such as GPH Purbonegoro and Suryadarma—later played key roles in establishing military schools in Indonesia. However, in order to reach that point, they first had to swear allegiance to the Queen of the Netherlands and serve in the colonial military.

In the same year, two Minangkabau students, Mahjuddin Gaus and Madjid Usman, established the Serikat Indonesia (Indonesia Association) in Japan, with the recommendation of the Japanese Consulate in Medan, Naito Keizo. Gaus studied medicine at Jikei University, while Usman studied law at Meiji University. Alongside WJS Poerwadarminta and a few others, they published Berita Indonesia, a periodical featuring notes and essays on life experiences of Asian students in a country that was not yet a colonial power, but becoming increasingly expansive day by day.

These two pathways—the Netherlands or Japan—marked the beginning of intersections between education, militarism, and nationalism, which would grow increasingly significant in the years leading up to the war.

1939–1942

From status to strategy: Education as a path to survival and sovereignty

Germany’s invasion of Poland in 1939 marked the beginning of World War II. Not long after, Nazis heavily bombed Rotterdam (1940), forcing the Netherlands to surrender and causing the colonial government to lose its central authority. In this power vacuum, Japan gained strength in the Pacific, reaching its peak by attacking Pearl Harbor (1941) and expanding its colonial reach into Southeast Asia, including Indonesia.

Amidst these tensions, the colonial government established the Corps Opleiding Reserve Officieren (CORO) and KMA Bandung (1939), opening military education pathways for the natives. Some of the graduates—such as AH Nasution and GPH Djatikusumo—later became key military figures in post-independence Indonesia.

The war also accelerated the mobilisation of forced labour and deployment of local workers, particularly in the infrastructures and military logistics sectors. Many people were introduced to wage labour and forced migration, which in turn shaped new imaginaries of work outside of the rural areas and national borders.

For a lot of natives, education was no longer merely a path towards colonial social status, but became a means of survival, adaptation, and eventually, a way to imagine a more concrete form of sovereignty—whether as a homeland or as the right to decent employment.

1942

Education as propaganda tool: The Japanese occupation period

Indonesia’s current tiered education system is a legacy of the Japanese occupation. In just three years, Japan succeessfully embedded their influence through systematic propaganda strategies, primarily through educational institutions. Japan recognised that schools were indeed the most effective tool to transform the mentality of colonised people from a western colonial mindset to that of Japan. Schools that had previously been clsoed were reopened, including private ones, and the names colonial institutions were changed: HIS became Sekolah Rakyat (People’s School), MULO became Junior High School, and AMS or HBS became Senior High Schol.

During this period, racial discrimination in education was abolished, the use of Indonesian was permitted as the language of instruction, and national symbols such as the red and white flag was allowed, as part of a strategy to win the people’s sympathy.

The educational structure introduced by the Japanese—six years of primary education, followed three years of each junior and senior high school, vocational education, and higher education, remains in use today.

To ensure the widespread operation of the propaganda machine, Japan also trained teachers with specialised curriculum which included language, Japanese customs, national songs, physical education, and basic defense. These trained teachers were then sent back to their respective hometowns to train others. This tiered training not only disseminated propaganda, but also laid the foundation of the national education system that continues to this day.

1942–1943

Approaching influential figures: Japan’s propaganda strategy

As part of their propaganda strategy, Japan made intensive efforts to approach influential figures, particulary Islamic leaders (ulama) and nationalists, in order to ease the acceptance of Nipponisation among the people. They recognised that religious leaders held significant influence in shaping public opinion, especially among Muslims. With this in mind, they invited 32 prominent ulama to a banquet in Jakarta, including KH Hasyim Asy’ari, KH Mahfudz Shiddiq, and KH A. Wahid Hasyim. Japan subsequently relaxed several policies, one od wich was the abolition of saikeirei, the practice of bowing in respect to the God of the Sun, as a gesture to demonstrate their commitment to respect Islamic values and local customs.

This strategy was also driven by Japan’s failure to implement overly rigid education system in Manchuria and China. To avoid similar failure, Japan sought to involve nationalist figures in propaganda projects such as the Pusat Tenaga Rakyat/The Centre of the People's Power (Putera), an organisation led by Sukarno, Mohammad Hatta, Ki Hajar Dewantara, and KH Mas Mansur since March 1943. Japan tried to leverage their influence to disseminate the vision of Nippon, intensifying these efforts towards the end of their occupation through the Sendenbu institution, in hope that the imperiall ideology would eventually replace the rising idea of Indonesia Raya.

1943

Japan’s scholarships: From propaganda strategy to war compensation

In the field of education, Japan also employed propaganda strategies through scholarship programmes. These scholarships were part of Japan’s foreign policy, which aimed to establis the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere by promoting Pan-Asianism—an ideology that sought to unite the political and economic power of Asian nations. Prior to the independence of Indonesia, Japan flew 23 young students from Indonesia to study in the Land of The Rising Sun through the Nampo Tokubetsu Ryugakusei programme, or the Southern Region Scholarship for Exceptional Students. In addition to Indonesia, the scholarship was also offered to youths from other Southeast Asian countries under Japanese occupation at the time, such as Malaysia and Burma (now Myanmar).

In 1945, Japan surrendered after The United States dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, marking the end of Word War II. Japan’s defeat brought significant consequences: Japan was required to provide reparations to the countries affected by the war, including indonesia. In the 1960s, Japan introduced the Baisyo Ryugakusei scholarship or or the War Reparations Scholarship. This scholarship was offered to students from Indonesia with the aim of improving human resource capacity through education program in Japan, as a form of compensation for the suffering endured by Indonesia during the Japanese occupation.

1943 & 1945

Japan formed military and paramilitary

During the Japanese occupation in Indonesia (1943–1945), various military and paramilitary organisation were formed as part of Japan’s war strategies and social control measures. Japan founded Seinendan, an organisation aimed at supporting logistics and defends along the rear lines, which was joined by young men aged between 15 and 25 years old. This organisation was formed in villages, factories, and companies, operated under the supervision of the Naimbu Bunkyo-kyoku. In October 1944, Josyi Seinendan was also established as a strategy to mobilise women. In addition, Keibodan was established for slightly older men aged 25 to 35 years old, tasked with assisting the police, maintaining public older, and regulating traffic under the Japanese Police Department (Keimubu). Japan also recruited young men as auxiliary soldiers in a unit named Heiho.

Other than paramilitary organisation, on 3 October 1943, Japan established PETA (Pembela Tanah Air/Defenders of the Homeland) through Osamu Seirei Decree No. 44, announced by the16th army commander, Lieutenant-General Kumakichi Harada. Prospective PETA officers were trained in Bogor for three to four months before being sent back to their respective regions to train other young men in Java, Madura, and Bali. PETA would later became the embryo of Indonesia’s National Army (TNI). Japan also formed paramilitary group Hizbullah, which conssited of santri (Islamic boarding school students). Around 500 santri from various residencies across Java were trained in Cibarusah, West Java, for three months under Lieutenant Janagawa who was also PETA’s trainer. They were later sent back and served in their respective regions.

Through the establishments of these organisations, Japan not only mobilised local manpower for military purposes but also left a significant legacy that shaped the structure of Indonesia’s military from the post-independece period to the present day.

1945

Japan’s defeat and Indonesia’s independence

Japan’s defeat in the Second World War became a pivotal moment for Indonesia’s independence. Japan surrendered unconditionally on 15 August 1945 after Hiroshima and Nagasaki were devastated by atomic bombs dropped by the United States in early August 1945. As a consequence of their defeat, Japan was required to withdraw all of their troops from territories across Asia, including Indonesia. This power vacuum was seized by the fighters of Indonesia’ independence to proclaim their nation’s sovereignty on 17 August 1945. Accompanied by Drs. Moh. Hatta, Ir. Sukarno read the proclamation at his residence, located at Pegangsaan Timur No. 56, Jakarta.

The post-proclamation situation was marked by intense upheaval. On 15 September 1945, British troops under the Allied Forces Netherlands East Indies (AFNEI), landed in Tanjung Priok aboard the Chamberlain, bringing along Netherlands Indies Civil Administration (NICA)—an organisation formed by the Dutch with the aim of restoring civil administration and the colonial government’s systemin Indonesia, following Japan’s surrender. NICA’s presence was the result of a secret agreement known as Civil Affairs Agreement between Britain and the Netherlands on 24 August 1945. This agreement stipulated that Britain would act on behalf of the Netherlands, while the ground’s operation would be carried out by NICA. Armed conflicts soon erupted between the people of Indonesia and the Dutch-Allied troops, a period later known as the Physical Revolution.

Japan’s defeat paved the way for Indonesia’s independence, while simultaneously ushering in a new chapter in Indonesia’s struggle to defend their sovereignty against the threat of necolonialism.

1945

The foundation of a nation

Between 1945 and 1949, Indonesia experienced hardships across various sectors—social, economic, political, and cultural—including in the field of education. Although Indonesia had achieved de facto indepence, its sovereignty was still contested by the Dutch. Numerous armed conflicts and diplomatic disputes broke out between the newly established Republic of Indonesia and the Kingdom of the Netherlands—supported by Allied forces represented by British Empire—beginning on 17 August 1945 and continuing until 29 December 1949. Much of the national treasury during this period was allocated to finance the war effort in defence of sovereignty and national stability. Meanwhile, many students were forced to abandon their studies. This period also saw the formation of the Tentara Pelajar/Students’ Army (TP) whose members consisted largely of young students and partly university students.

After securing formal recognition of sovereignty from the Dutch, the national was finally able to determine the direction of its economic, political, and cultural policies, including education, as set out in the The 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia. In accordance with Chapter XIV, Article 33 of the 1945 Constitution, which emphasises that the state shall control key sectors of production, including land, water, and natural resources, the government began initiating the takeover of industries left by the colonial administration, particularly in the mining and petroleum sectors, through the establishment of state-owned enterprises. National education, which is guaranteed in Articles 28C and 31 of the 1945 Constitution as a fundamental right of every citizen, also began to be implemented with the formation of the Ministry of Teaching, Education, and Culture.

1945-1966

From the Ministry of Teaching to the Ministry of Education: A shift in meaning and direction

In the early years of independence, Indonesia did not recognise the term Ministry of Education (Kementerian Pendidikan). What existed was the Ministry of Teaching (Kementerian Pengajaran), with Ki Hadjar Dewantara as its first minister. His date of birth, 2 May, is now commemorated as National Education Day (Hari Pendidikan Nasional)—even though what he truly fought for was "pengajaran".

The term “pendidikan” is a literal translation of "education", popularised by the Dutch East Indies government through the Ethical Policy. Although aimed at improving the welfare of the pribumi population, the policy was loaded with Western-style “enlightenment” that marginalised local knowledge. Colonial education served as a tool for shaping colonial subjects: discipline over time, the body, and labour.

In this process, Western education erased the authority of local knowledge, replacing community-based systems of teaching, where knowledge was intertwined with natural rhythms, work cycles, and social relations—reducing students to mere labourers.

From the beginning, the term “pendidikan” carried racial connotations: Pribumi were seen as ignorant and in need of education in order to become ‘civilised’. In contrast, teaching in the history of the Nusantara has long been associated with resistance. Portuguese and Spanish reports from the 16th century frequently noted that missionary teaching provoked uprisings which led to the expulsion of the missionaries.

This is why, in 1949, Dr Abu Hanifah, as Minister of Teaching and Culture, was given a clear task: to dismantle the colonial education system and replace it with a national, anti-colonial one.

Unfortunately, this direction was completely reversed by Presidential Decree of the Republic of Indonesia No. 171 of 1966. In the wake of genocide and political massacres, the term ‘pengajaran’ was eliminated and replaced by ‘pendidikan'. Under the New Order’s development agenda, the education system was liberalised and adjusted to the market—no longer guided by the spirit of emancipation.

1945–1947, 1950, & 1956–1957

The spirit of patriotism in education

In the early years of independence, most school-aged children had never experienced formal education, and the majority of Indonesia’s population remained illiterate due to the limited access to education during the colonial period. Literacy education, promoted by the Komite Nasional Indonesia Pusat/Central Indonesian National Committee (KNIP), began to be implemented through the establishment of learning centres across various regions and the organisation of courses by community organisations and volunteers. Up until 1957, the Congress of Students in the East Nusa Tenggara region continued to urge the government to intensify efforts to eradicate illiteracy. This highlights that education, particularly literacy eradication, was an urgent need across all levels of society during that time.

From the beginning, national education was formulated to produce citizens who were ready to contribute their energy and ideas for the nation and society. Within this framework, school learning was designed to prioritise character education as well as the cultivation of national and social awareness.The first two curriculum introduced after independence—the 1947 and 1952 curriculum—adopted Bahasa Indonesia as the language of instruction and emphasised the alignment of lesson content with everyday life. The curriculum and the foundations of national education also reinforced the role of teachers as central figures in the learning process—not merely as instructors, but also as role models of moral values and nationalism within the classroom.

In practical terms, these early curriculums also introduced academic streaming at the secondary education level to prepare skilled and educated workers—Stream A focused on languages and social sciences, while Stream B focused on mathematics and natural sciences. During this period, Kelas Masyarakat (Community Classes) were also established, which served as special schools for primary school graduates who did not continue to secondary education. Kelas Masyarakat provided training in skills such as agriculture, carpentry, and fisheries, enabling graduates to enter the workforce directly and contribute to society.

1947 & 1952

Masters unite, labours crumble

In the early days of the republic’s formation, Government Regulation No. 3 of 1947 established the Ministry of Labour—not the ‘Ministry of Manpower’. This choice of terminology reflected the view that workers were treated as political and historical subjects who deserved a place within the structure of the state, not merely as ‘manpower’. Through this, Indonesia declared its alignment with the growing global labour movement in the post-Second World War era, which was closely tied to the spirit of decolonisation and social justice.

But it did not take long for the opposition to begin organising. On 31 January 1952, APINDO—the Employers’ Association of Indonesia—was established, previously initiated by Dutch companies under the name Centraal Stichting Sociaal Economische Zaken van Werkgevers’ Overleg (CSWO). This institution was formed to “address the concerns of employers regarding the growing prominence of labour issues”—a polite way of expressing the desire to maintain dominance over labour.

Today, APINDO has transformed into a key player in shaping labour policies. Sitting at the tripartite table alongside the government, their voices are often heard more than those of the fragmented and marginalised labour unions. When the Omnibus Law was being drafted, APINDO had a seat at the table. The unions? Sometimes invited, often forgotten. In the past, labour was seen as a driving force. Now, it is often regarded as an obstacle.

1948 & 1955

Labour and the state

Sukarno laid the foundations for labour policies imbued with a strong spirit of populism. Article 27, Clause 2 of the 1945 Constitution states: “Every citizen has the right to employment and a livelihood worthy of humanity.” From this point, a major project was begun to build an industrial relationship in the young republic—one that was not neutral, but showed allegiance.

A key milestone was Law No. 12 of 1948, which regulated working hours (a maximum of eight hours per day), maternity leave, the prohibition of child labour, and the right to holidays. This law did not emerge from market calculations, but from a radical interpretation of humanity, set against the lingering remnants of the colonial system.

The Minister of Labour Regulation No. 90 of 1955, which had a liberal character, simplified the requirements for establishing labour unions. Many political parties took part in founding labour unions as onderbouw (mass base organisations) to gather as many members as possible in the lead-up to the 1955 general election.

During this period, labour was not merely a workforce, but a political subject. The ratification of ILO Convention No. 98 (1949) through Law No. 18/1956 guaranteed the right to organise and to bargain collectively. Two years earlier, Law No. 21/1954 had strengthened the legal standing of collective labour agreements. In practice, this meant that labour unions played an active role in shaping the direction of the nation.

Many labour unions—particularly Central All-Indonesian Workers Organization (SOBSI), which was closely aligned with the Indonesia Communist Party (PKI)—became key actors. They sat at the negotiating table, and even on the boards of directors of state-owned enterprises that emerged from the nationalisation of foreign companies after 1957. In this period, labour was not merely a means of production, but a tool of revolution.

Everything changed after 1965. Following the mass killings and the dissolution of leftist organisations, labour protections were swept away. In the early New Order period, labour laws were not formally revoked, but their meaning was reversed. What was once a tool of resistance, became a tool of control. What was once a right, became a requirement. What was once a union, was now silenced.

1949, 1952, 1954, & 1958

Scholarships of Sukarno’s era

During Sukarno’s presidency, education was one of the nation’s top priorities. As a newly independent country, Indonesia faced significant challenges in developing its human resources, and education was seen as the solution. To realise these aspirations, Sukarno welcomed foreign assistance, including scholarships from developed countries, to enable Indonesia’s brightest students to pursue their studies abroad.

One of the leading scholarship programmes during Sukarno’s presidency was the scholarship for Mahasiswa Ikatan Dinas/Civil Service-Bonded Students (MAHID) and prospective civil servants (DUTA AMPERA). Thousands of young Indonesians were sent to left-leaning countries at the time, such as China, the Soviet Union, and nations in Eastern Europe. They were the first generation of diaspora following the establishment of the Republic of Indonesia, expected to contribute to nation-building upon completing their studies abroad. Unfortunately, these hopes collapsed alongside the events of 1965–1966, when many scholarship recipients, who were considered pro-Sukarno, had their passports revoked and lost their citizenship.

During this period, several scholarships also came through bilateral cooperation. For example, the Embassy of India awarded a scholarship to the painter Affandi to study at Visva Bharati University in Santiniketan, West Bengal, India, from 1949 to 1951. UNESCO was also recorded to have funded the sculptor Edhi Sunarso’s studies at the same university from 1954 to 1956.

The United States government also contributed scholarships to Indonesia through the Ford Foundation, as well as by providing prefabricated buildings for secondary schools and the Indonesian Academy of Fine Arts (ASRI) in Yogyakarta. The Ford Foundation’s programmes even produced some of Indonesia’s most prominent economists, such as Emil Salim and Ali Wardhana.

In the early years of independence, a number of students from Indonesia were also sent to the Netherlands to continue their studies as part of the agreements reached at the Round Table Conference (RTC). This conference resulted in several agreements, including the transfer of Dutch sovereignty to the Republic of the United States of Indonesia (RIS), the establishment of the Indonesia–Netherlands Union, agreements concerning debts and obligations, as well as cooperation in the field of education. Unfortunately, this scholarship programme was discontinued following tensions between Indonesia and the Netherlands over the dispute for Papua.

1950, 1951, & 1954–1957

The establishment of higher education institutions in Post-Independence Indonesia

During the colonial period, several higher education institutions had been established, such as the School of Medicine (STOVIA), the Bandung Institute of Technology (Technische Hoogeschool Bandoeng), and the Law School (Rechts Hoogeschool). However, after Indonesia gained her independence following the Dutch recognition of Indonesian sovereignty through the Round Table Conference (RTC) in 1949, the government consolidated these various higher education institutions into national universities. This was formalised through the issuance of the Emergency Law No. 7 of 1950 concerning Higher Education.

This marked the beginning of the establishment of universities in Indonesia. The first state university founded was Gadjah Mada University (1949), followed by the University of Indonesia (1951), then Airlangga University (1954), Andalas University (1955), Hasanuddin University (1956), Padjadjaran University (1957), and the University of North Sumatra (1957).

The establishment of these state universities marked a pivotal chapter in the history of higher education in Indonesia. It represented a transformation in the education sector, from colonial institutions to national universities that would later play a crucial role in nation-building.

1961

Human Capital Theory: Schools as labour factories

Introduced by economist Theodore W. Schultz, Human Capital Theory views knowledge and skills as a form of capital, much like money, machinery, or land. The higher a person’s level of education, the higher their “market value” in the labour market. Within this framework, schools are regarded as economic investments—sites for producing productive individuals.

This logic significantly influenced educational policies during the New Order regime. Curriculums were designed to meet industrial demands, rather than the needs of the people. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, vocational training programmes such as the Balai Latihan Kerja (Vocational Training Centres) were heavily promoted, alongside the expansion of vocational secondary schools. At the primary level, the 1968 and 1975 curriculum eliminated political, historical, and local knowledge content in favour of shaping citizens who were obedient, efficient, and ready to work.

By adopting Human Capital Theory, the state gradually shifted structural responsibilities—poverty, inequality, and unemployment—onto individuals. If one remains poor or experiences failure, it is seen as a result of insufficient personal investment, rather than systemic inequality. Education thus underwent a profound transformation: from a space of liberation to a tool of discipline. Schools no longer produced free-thinking citizens, but labourers to be sold.

1965

Terror, genocide, and the restructuring of life

Between 1965 and 1966, at least one million people were killed in massacres instigated by the Military of Indonesia with support from the United States and Britain. Being a member of the Communist Party of Indonesia (PKI), merely being rumoured as a leftist sympathiser, or even just being suspected of associating with progressive social movements was enough to warrant execution. Many of those killed were teachers, farmers, labourers, and activists involved in grassroots education. These mass killings were not only about taking lives, but also about the systematic destruction of entire political and social ecosystems that once envisioned justice and equality.

People’s schools were dissolved. Curriculum was replaced. Labour organisations were dismantled. Anyone who did not conform to the military’s ideological line at the time was deemed dangerous. Fear was deliberately sown in households, schools, places of worship, and workplaces. In a short time, the orientation of education and labour was completely reversed. Education was no longer a means to enlighten and liberate the people but was transformed into a tool for producing obedient, unquestioning workers. Citizenship was measured by loyalty to the state, not by allegiance to the people. Many lost their jobs simply for being accused of "having been associated" with leftist organisations.

This terror crossed continents. In Latin America, "Jakarta" became a code word for anti-communist extermination campaigns supported by the United States. Indonesia has yet to fully acknowledge these crimes. But their traces remain visible—in the silenced teachers, in farmers dispossessed of their land, and in the children taught to fear critical thinking.

1965-1966

The wild, the annihilated: The destruction of grassroots educational movements

Ruth T. McVey observed that Taman Siswa had a significant influence on the Indonesian Communist Party’s (PKI) ideas about education. Several PKI cadres were alumni of Taman Siswa. History later recorded how leftist movements in Indonesia flourished during President Sukarno’s rule. Several left-leaning higher education institutions were established, such as Universitas Rakyat (People’s University), Universitas Res Publica, the Aliarcham Academy of Social Sciences, the Bacharudin Academy of Political Sciences, the Ir. Anwari Technical Academy, the Dr. Rivai Journalism Academy, and the Multatuli Literature Academy. Marxist-Leninist ideologies also took root in state universities like UGM, IPB, and UI.

At the end of 1965, the Minister of Education and Culture issued Decree No. 1/dar/1965, which shut down 14 higher education institutions suspected of being affiliated with the PKI—including Universitas Rakyat, the Aliarcham Academy, and others. Two additional institutions were frozen under a follow-up decree. Each campus was then screened by a special task force appointed by the military, which compiled lists of "subversive" lecturers and students. The results of this screening were announced in early 1966: UGM, for example, expelled 115 lecturers, 3,006 students, and 1,212 campus staff. Around one-third of senior students at USU, UNPAD, IKIP, and other universities were dismissed for being deemed "leftist elements." Leftist literature was erased from libraries and campus syllabi. Academic culture and critical traditions were violently replaced with technocratic and capitalist-oriented norms.

Like an old song played on repeat, the Wild School Ordinance of the Dutch colonial era was re-enacted by the New Order regime. Students studying abroad were forced into exile. The history of these so-called “wild schools”—which from the beginning had refused to submit to colonialism—was ended by a nation that claimed to have achieved independence. The dissolution of people’s schools this time was carried out by a state that proclaimed “freedom.” What once grew as a compass for resistance was now eliminated by a regime intent on ensuring campuses produced only passive technocrats, not free intellectuals.

1966

The New Order: Pancasila, depoliticisation, and new morals

The Provisional People’s Consultative Assembly Decree No. XXV/MPRS/1966 marked the beginning of the New Order’s systematic depoliticisation of education. Marxist and Leninist teachings were banned at all levels of education; books were confiscated, libraries were purged, and spaces for public discussion were shut down. Student and youth organisations such as CGMI (Movement Concentration of Indonesian Students), Pemuda Rakyat (People’s Youth), SOBSI (Central All-Indonesian Workers Organization), and Lekra (Institute for the People's Culture) were disbanded. Thousands of teachers, lecturers, and educational workers were dismissed on accusations of leftist, socialist, or communist affiliations. Campuses were separated from politics, and daily supervision became increasingly militaristic.

From this point onwards, Religious Education was made compulsory at all levels of public schools. The state promoted the narrative that communism was synonymous with atheism, and that good citizens were, by definition, religious citizens. Religion was positioned as a tool for the ideological control of the state. This strategy became the foundation for the now-famous slogan: "Pancasila is the sole foundation." Religious education not only reinforced the state’s legitimacy but also positioned the state as the “guardian of public morality.”

1967

Foreign concepts and agencies of the New Order

In 1967, a new direction for national education planning began to take shape through the Rencana Pembangunan Lima Tahun (Five-Year Development Plan/Repelita) and internal documents from the National Development Planning Agency (Bappenas). Education was redefined as a tool for producing skilled labour to meet the demands of economic development. The emphasis shifted from education as a means of cultivating “revolutionary” individuals (as under the Sukarno-Hatta period) to education as an instrument to support industrialisation, rural development, and attract foreign investment. Key terms that frequently appeared included “productivity,” “efficiency,” and “modernisation.”

The Ford Foundation, which had briefly withdrawn during the 1965–1966 genocide, returned to actively engage in the education sector. Alongside the Rockefeller Foundation, it facilitated research initiatives, curriculum reform, and teacher training in major universities such as the University of Indonesia (UI) and the Bogor Agricultural Institute (IPB). These foundations also supported the establishment of new institutions such as the Indonesian Institute of Sciences (LIPI). Their agendas revolved around enhancing efficiency, productivity, and the stability of national development.

1967

Hello, global capitalism!

A major milestone in Indonesia’s opening to international capital was the enactment of the Foreign Investment Law (Law No. 1/1967), legalised precisely this year. This law promised tax exemptions, legal guarantees, and zero risk of nationalisation. In the name of economic recovery, the New Order transformed Indonesia into a field for cheap investment: natural resources were sold in bulk, and labour was priced low. The first work contract signed by this militaristic regime was with Freeport McMoRan, which continues to operate in Papua to this day.

Technocrats like Mohammad Sadli promoted Indonesia to the world as a land of opportunity. The state promised political stability through military repression and the depoliticisation of the people. Within this development narrative, inequality and structural devastation were seen as a small price to pay. In reality, what was being traded off was sovereignty and the future. Protests quickly emerged—over unfair contracts, environmental destruction, and the displacement of Indigenous communities. Yet the regime turned a deaf ear, dismissing criticism as a threat to stability.

While the Sukarno–Hatta government sought to delay foreign capital for at least twenty years to allow the people to gain control over their own resources, the New Order regime took the opposite path—accelerating dependency and giving rise to a class of rent-seeking entrepreneurs. This law was not merely an economic policy; it was the foundation of a system that sidelined the people in favour of statistical growth and business elites. Education, bureaucracy, and even the security apparatus were shaped to serve the logic of investment, not the needs of citizens. The promise of development was built atop the ruins of a great compromise.

1968 & 1970

Tamed lands: The Green Revolution and the rise of farmerless agriculture

The First Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita I, 1968–1973) began with the Green Revolution: the construction of dams, irrigation improvements, the widespread use of chemical fertilisers and pesticides, and the mechanisation of agriculture. Within two decades, rice production had doubled. Food self-sufficiency was hailed as a symbol of development success. However, traditional, locally-based agricultural systems were gradually replaced. Farmers and smallholders were forced to adapt to industrial inputs, methods, and practices—ranging from seeds to chemical toxins. Access to land and production independence diminished. Many ultimately abandoned their fields and turned to other forms of work, including becoming migrant labourers.

In 1970, the government began formally regulating the placement of Indonesian migrant workers abroad through the AKAD and AKAN programmes. In Hong Kong, opportunities for domestic work began to open up. The first waves of women migrant workers from Indonesia departed. In addition to supporting their families through remittances, they also filled labour gaps in the destination countries, particularly by replacing the domestic roles of middle-class women.

In the education sector, the 1968 Curriculum replaced the 1964 Curriculum, which had previously emphasised Manipol and Pantja Wardana (morality, intelligence, artistic sensibility, practical skills, and physical education). The new curriculum eliminated these elements and introduced three primary objectives: fostering Pancasila values, basic knowledge, and specialised skills. This educational depoliticisation was part of a broader effort to realign the direction and content of schooling in line with the developmentalist agenda of the New Order.

In the early 1970s, the government began expanding the construction of primary schools to remote areas, including both Sekolah Dasar (SD, public primary schools) and Madrasah Ibtidaiyah (MI, Islamic primary schools), along with other religious-based educational institutions under the Ministry of Religious Affairs. This dual management of education resulted in uneven implementation of compulsory education programmes. Infrastructure, curriculum, and state support largely favoured public secular schools, while many madrasah and pesantren continued to operate with limited community-based resources.

1970

From centre to periphery: BLKP Kebayoran and the standardisation of vocational training

The first Central Vocational Training Centre (Balai Latihan Kerja Pusat/BLKP) was established in Kebayoran Baru in 1970. It became the prototype of the New Order-style vocational training institution: technocratic, centralised, and geared towards industrial efficiency. BLKP Kebayoran served as the model for replicating vocational training centres (BLK) across Indonesia—with standardised curriculum, structures, and facilities.

Under the banner of development, skills were detached from their local contexts. Work-related knowledge—which had previously been passed down within communities, from farmer to farmer or craftsman to apprentice—was now codified in official training spaces, using modules imported from Japan, Germany, or the ILO. Sewing machines, lathes, and welding tools became the new markers of progress, displacing hoes and traditional crafts.

This project not only produced ‘ready-to-use’ workers, but also redefined the very meaning of work: no longer part of daily life shaped by seasons and social relations, but rather as a unit of productivity to be trained, certified, and channelled.

1973

The oil boom and the massive expansion of primary schools

In 1973, global oil prices soared following the OPEC embargo against the United States and its allies. Indonesia, with its large oil reserves and low prices, became a new target. State revenues surged rapidly. By the mid-1970s, more than 70% of Indonesia’s national budget was derived from the oil and gas sector.

President Suharto subsequently issued Presidential Instruction No. 10/1973, mandating that a portion of oil revenues be allocated to the construction of primary schools. Within two decades, over 40,000 new school buildings were erected. Children in rural villages, who previously had no access to formal education, began to enter classrooms—learning in the Indonesian language, under the New Order curriculum. This marked the beginning of the expansion of schools as national infrastructure and as instruments for cultivating “Pancasila-minded” citizens.

However, much like rice self-sufficiency—which lasted only two years—the oil boom proved temporary. To this day, Indonesia continues to sell raw materials without developing downstream industries or significant domestic processing capacity. When Pertamina collapsed due to a debt scandal in 1975, the state’s funds once again ran dry. Schools may have remained standing, but many teachers were poorly paid, and children graduating from primary school were not guaranteed a place in the formal labour market.

The oil boom also accelerated the transmigration programme. The state relocated millions of people—mainly from Java—to territories deemed “empty” in Kalimantan, Papua, and Sumatra. They cleared land, planted palm oil or rice, and sent their children to school in territories that were not originally theirs. Yet they remained at the bottom of the chain of an extractive economic system in which the land’s resources were channelled to cities or exported abroad.

In other words: From oil emerged schools, cheap labour systems, local displacement, and the expansion of state surveillance to the country’s most remote areas.

1973

Transmigration in the name of development

Backed by oil revenues and the spirit of “equitable development,” the New Order launched its transmigration programme, based on Presidential Instruction No. 1 of 1973 (Repelita II) and Law No. 3 of 1972. The state reorganised populations, living spaces, and power relations under full centralised control.

Regions outside Java, such as Kalimantan, Papua, and Sumatra, were positioned as “empty lands”—ready to be filled by small farmers from Java, who were considered “more diligent” and “easier to manage.” This perspective later gave rise to prolonged conflicts. The so-called empty lands were, in fact, customary lands, deeply meaningful and long stewarded by local communities. Beyond reducing population density in Java, the programme also paved the way for the expansion of commodities: oil palm, timber, industrial food crops, and the establishment of state infrastructure—roads, schools, village offices, military posts.

The programme promised houses, land, and a new life for transmigrants. However, the reality was often harsh: the land’s soil was frequently infertile, far from markets, and as a result, they were socially and culturally alienated. Many transmigrants found themselves trapped in a new cycle of poverty. Meanwhile, indigenous communities lost access to their ancestral lands and sources of livelihood—without legal recognition. Riding on the back of the “trilogy of development”—stability, growth, and equity—the programme expanded the reach of the extractive economy and militarised bureaucracy into the furthest corners of Indonesia.

In the end, transmigration produced double marginalisation: for both the transmigrants and the indigenous communities. By the end of Suharto’s era, more than eight million people had been relocated—redrawing Indonesia’s social, ecological, and political landscape to this day.

1974

Scholarships, bureaucracy, and class gaps

Through its national education policy in the Second Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita II, 1979–1984), the New Order regime framed education as both a vehicle for social mobility and a tool for social control. The Supersemar Foundation, established by President Suharto (1974–2015), provided scholarships for “high-achieving” and “underprivileged” students, while Repelita II outlined four strategic pillars: improving quality, expanding access, ensuring relevance, and increasing educational efficiency.

However, education during the New Order ultimately reinforced technocratic logic: producing skilled labour for economic development, rather than cultivating critical citizens. The Supersemar scholarships offered access to a small number of lower-class students but failed to address the root causes of structural inequality. It later emerged that a portion of the foundation’s funds had been diverted to the business interests of Suharto’s family and cronies.

As a result, the gap between the intellectual class (closely linked to the state bureaucracy and technocrats) and the labouring class grew even wider. Education became a mechanism of social selection, rather than a bridge to justice. The discourse of equality promoted through Repelita II merely concealed the consolidation of elite power—where access to higher education, facilities, and political networks remained firmly in the hands of a privileged few. This model, in a more institutionalised and globalised form, would later continue through programmes such as the Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP).

1974, 1980, 1984 & 1993

The investment turmoil and the surge of migrant workers during the New Order Era

On 15 January 1974, thousands of university students from various campuses in Jakarta took to the streets to protest the New Order’s economic policies, which were seen as overly favourable to foreign investment, particularly from the Japanese government. The protest, later known as the Malapetaka 15 Januari/15 January disaster (Malari Incident), began during the visit of Japanese Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka to Indonesia to meet President Soeharto. Several buildings and vehicles associated with Japan became the targets of public outrage. The demonstrating students denied responsibility for the riots, claiming that their peaceful protest had been hijacked.

In the same year, the number of Indonesian migrant workers (TKI) deployed overseas surged following the launch of the Second Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita II, 1974–1979), driven by high demand, especially from Saudi Arabia and Malaysia. In Saudi Arabia, the need for domestic workers soared as public welfare improved in the aftermath of the global oil price boom. A similar trend occurred in Malaysia, where rapid economic growth created more job opportunities. The increase in labour migration to Malaysia was also facilitated by cultural and linguistic similarities, as well as the presence of well-established TKI recruitment networks in the neighbouring country.

This surge prompted the government to restructure labour policies, leading to significant changes in the management of migrant workers. Since its establishment on 3 July 1947, labour affairs had been overseen by the Ministry of Social Affairs. At the end of Sukarno’s administration, this was renamed the Ministry of Labour. During the Second Development Cabinet (1974–1979), the ministry’s name and functions expanded to the Ministry of Labour, Transmigration, and Cooperatives, before it was later split in the Fourth Development Cabinet (1984–1989) into the Ministry of Labour and the Ministry of Transmigration, only to be merged again in 2001.

It was during the Fourth Development Cabinet that the deployment of Indonesian migrant workers to Malaysia began to be formally regulated through bilateral agreements. In the Sixth Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita VI, 1993–1999), the government set a target of sending 1.2 million migrant workers abroad and established several supporting institutions, such as PT BIJAK to coordinate the recruitment of prospective workers and the Human Resource Foundation to manage TKI insurance funds. These policies illustrate how the surge in labour migration significantly shaped the direction of Indonesia’s labour governance and the management of migrant workers.

1975–1976

Pancasila indoctrination through the education system

The Pancasila indoctrination enforced by the New Order government marked a significant chapter in Indonesia’s educational history. It began with the Eka Prasetya Panca Karsa programme, more widely known as the Guidelines for the Internalisation and Practice of Pancasila (P4), which became mandatory for all segments of society—civil servants, police officers, military personnel, and students at every educational level. This included primary, secondary, and upper secondary schools, as well as Islamic schools (Madrasah Ibtidaiyah, Madrasah Tsanawiyah, Madrasah Aliyah) that had by then been formally recognised as part of the national education system, in both state and private universities.

Through the P4 programme, the government indoctrinated Pancasila as the nation’s sole ideology by introducing the concept of the Pancasila principles, taught primarily through rote memorisation. This approach was systematically embedded in the education system via the 1975 Curriculum and was formally legalised through the MPR Special Session, which issued TAP MPR No. II/MPR/1978.

With the implementation of the 1975 Curriculum, the government officially replaced the Civics (Kewarganegaraan) subject with Pendidikan Moral Pancasila/Pancasila Moral Education (PMP), which had a profound impact on the political education of citizens of Indonesia. Previously, Civics not only taught citizens’ rights and obligations but also emphasised the responsibilities of the state towards its people. Fundamentally, this subject should encourage students to develop a critical stance towards the state.

Under the authoritarian New Order regime, cultivating critical thinking among students posed a clear threat to those in power. Consequently, Civics was abolished and replaced with PMP, a subject that stressed obedience and submission to the state, without equipping students with adequate knowledge of their rights as citizens.

Within the logic of capitalism, the indoctrination of Pancasila into the education system mirrors what Paulo Freire termed a “culture of silence”, a mindset of obedience to structure and hierarchy that operates much like a factory system. This approach positioned education as a dominant tool of power, used to reproduce capitalist thinking patterns that ultimately perpetuate social inequality. Education no longer served as a means of liberation, but rather returned individuals to their original socio-economic positions.

1980s

The birth of the term Pahlawan Devisa

The term “pahlawan devisa” (literally, "foreign exchange heroes") often attributed to Indonesian migrant workers (TKI) originated from the New Order regime’s discourse, which aimed to harvest remittances from abroad to support its national development agenda. Rather than expressing genuine appreciation, the term reflects the state’s economic interests while ignoring the harsh realities migrant workers face, such as exploitation and a lack of legal protection.

The word “pahlawan” (hero) carries a connotation of sacrifice. Yet in this case, it is the migrant workers who sacrifice themselves for the benefit of the state. Criticism of the term highlights how branding migrant workers as “pahlawan devisa” tends to veil their suffering under a guise of false nationalism.

In Indonesian Idioms and Expressions, author Christopher Torchia notes that the phrase is merely one among hundreds of political idioms deliberately manufactured by the New Order regime to serve its own interests. It is no different from terms like “tapol” (political prisoner) and “kopkamtib” (Operational Command for the Restoration of Security and Order).

Unfortunately, this idiom continues to be used today by both officials and activists, often without awareness of its historical and ideological baggage. In reality, working abroad often entails serious risks, especially for migrant workers who lack sufficient legal protection. Repeating this term is essentially the same as reproducing an old narrative that normalizes the neglect of the rights and dignity of Indonesian migrant workers.

1984

Two years of self-sufficiency, a lifetime of poverty

Indonesia’s 1984 rice self-sufficiency, often celebrated as one of Suharto’s major achievements, lasted barely two years. Those two years marked the beginning of long-term poverty for farmers trapped in a cycle of dependency. The 'Green Revolution', the driving force behind this short-lived success, tied farmers to the products of the agricultural industry: factory-produced seeds, chemical fertilisers, and pesticides. This dependency drained farmers’ resources year after year, as money that could have been used to improve irrigation and market access was instead spent on those products. As a result, the profits were reaped by large agribusinesses, rather than by the farmers who toiled on their land.

Furthermore, this revolution destroyed the legacy of local seeds that had been passed down through generations within farming communities. Excessive use of chemicals damaged the soil and water sources, turning the land into something “new”, unfamiliar and difficult to manage without the chemicals. It takes years for the soil to recover—time that is a luxury for farmers who rely on each harvest to survive. Women were among the most affected. Mechanisation, the rise of large-scale milling controlled by capital, and the erasure of traditional roles pushed them out of agricultural work. Without access to education or training, many struggled to adapt to these changes. A great number were eventually forced to abandon the land and seek new livelihoods as factory workers or migrant labourers abroad.

1994

Education liberalisation, part 1

In 1994, to mark National Education Day, President Soeharto officially launched the implementation of the “Nine-year compulsory education” programme. This initiative faced numerous obstacles, primarily due to the public’s limited ability to afford the relatively high cost of schooling. Nevertheless, such constraints did not deter the government from continuing its plans to commercialise education in Indonesia.

Indeed, the early signs of liberalisation or commodification of education in Indonesia can be traced back to the country's ratification of the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS) as part of its commitment to membership in the World Trade Organization (WTO), under Law No. 7 of 1994 during the New Order regime.

GATS regulates the liberalisation of service sectors, including higher education. By ratifying the agreement, the government effectively recognised education as a commodity subject to global market mechanisms. This paradigm is rooted in neoclassical economic beliefs which argue that competition within the market will inherently lead to improved service quality. In practice, however, such liberalisation has only highlighted existing inequalities: As a country with a relatively low rate of participation in higher education, Indonesia became a prime target for education and training service exporters, given that national education standards were still far behind international benchmarks. In order to boost export volumes to developing countries, state intervention in this sector had to be minimised. Such liberation is precisely the aim of GATS.

Indonesia, with its large population of university-age citizens, represented a lucrative market for foreign providers of education and training services. In this matter, WTO regulates four modes of education services where Indonesia has been steered towards the Commercial Presence model, that is the establishment of foreign educational institutions within the states. This marked a significant turning point in the orientation of education in Indonesia—from a citizen’s social right to an economic commodity traded in the global market.

1997

The beginning of the labour export wave

The 1997 monetary crisis led to a drastic surge in the target for the deployment of Indonesian migrant workers (TKI): from 500,000 people during the Fifth Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita V) to 1,250,000 in Repelita VI. The wave of mass layoffs drove many to seek livelihoods abroad, particularly in neighbouring countries such as Malaysia and Singapore. This migration spanned both formal and informal sectors and became an immediate solution to the limited domestic employment opportunities.

The crisis significantly altered the direction of Indonesia’s labour policy. The government began to view labour export as a strategy for national economic recovery. The post-crisis period was thus marked by the acceleration of new regulations and infrastructure: from the ratification of Law No. 39/2004 on the Placement and Protection of Indonesian Migrant Workers, to the establishment of the National Agency for the Placement and Protection of Indonesian Migrant Workers (BNP2TKI) in 2006 as a dedicated body to manage labour migration and protection. Bilateral cooperation was aggressively pursued with various destination countries, while training programmes oriented towards migration began to be developed.

Subsequently, policies were more focused on facilitating and regulating the outward flow of workers rather than building a fair and inclusive domestic labour system. As such, it was not only the economic crisis that drove migration, but also the state’s own policy direction. To this day, the legacy of this crisis-era policy continues to shape how Indonesia designs its education, vocational, and employment strategies, more often as a response to global market demands than as part of a long-term vision for decent work at home.

1998

Reformation?!?

The 1997 monetary crisis shook the foundations of Indonesia’s economic and political order. Soaring inflation, shortages of basic necessities, waves of mass layoffs, and a rise in school drop-out rates were all tangible symptoms of this multidimensional crisis. Amidst the downturn, student and the people’s movements called for sweeping reforms—resulting in the resignation of President Soeharto in May 1998, after more than three decades in power.

Hereinafter, the direction of national policy shifted drastically. The centralised system of governance was replaced by decentralisation, made possible through the enactment of Law No. 22 of 1999 on Regional Autonomy—which granted authority to manage education and labour affairs according to local contexts. The central government was expected to focus on formulating macro-level policies and responding to global challenges.

Autonomy created space for regional curriculum innovation, but also widened the gap between regions. Areas such as Yogyakarta and West Java demonstrated strong initiatives in developing vocational schools and establishing partnerships with the industrial sector. In contrast, regions with limited budgets and weak educational vision lagged behind in both the quality and accessibility of education.

Decentralisation also shifted the focus towards creating employment based on local potential. However, in the absence of a strong national framework, many local governments struggled to address post-crisis unemployment. As a result, labour migration—both to other regions and abroad—grew increasingly widespread, particularly within the informal sector.

1999

Education liberalisation, part 2

In the aftermath of the 1997–1998 monetary crisis, the liberalisation of education in Indonesia became increasingly inevitable, especially after the government adopted policies required by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to recover the economy. One of these conditions was the reduction of state spending, including the education budget, which was redirected towards infrastructure. The proposed solution was to liberalise education through a “financially independent” higher education model.

This policy was later formalised through Government Regulation (PP) No. 60 of 1999, which implicitly indicated that the state had relinquished part of its responsibility over higher education, particularly in terms of funding. The government also issued PP No. 61 of 1999 concerning the designation of public universities as legal entities, further reinforcing the privatisation of education under the guise of autonomy.

The University of Indonesia became one of the pioneers of this scheme. What was initially meant as academic autonomy to free universities from state intervention soon transformed into financial autonomy, meaning that institutions were required to generate their own revenue. With government subsidies steadily decreasing, students became the most vulnerable target to cover educational costs, resulting in significant tuition hikes. Universities were also encouraged to seek private sponsorships, forge partnerships with the corporate sector, and even establish business units. As a result, higher education was no longer regarded as a citizen’s right, but as a commodity subject to market logic.

This liberalisation marked a major shift: from a state-supported education system to one that places the burden of financing on educational institutions, ultimately passing it down to individuals; the students themselves.

2002, 2004, 2006, & 2011

The direction of TKI after Reformation

The high demand for Indonesian migrant workers (TKI) abroad prompted the government to revise its policy on the placement and protection of TKI. This effort began with the issuance of Ministerial Decree No. 104A/MEN/2002 by the Ministry of Manpower and Transmigration, which regulated the placement of Indonesian workers overseas. The placement of TKI was positioned as a national programme aimed at improving the welfare of TKI and their families, as well as enhancing the quality of human resources.

Subsequently, to strengthen protection and policy governance, the National Agency for the Placement and Protection of Indonesian Migrant Workers (BNP2TKI) was established under the mandate of Law No. 39/2004 and Presidential Regulation No. 81/2006. In its implementation, BNP2TKI involved various ministries and state institutions, reflecting a cross-sectoral approach in addressing issues concerning TKI.

The government’s commitment to addressing issues concerning TKI is reflected in the implementation of placement programmes through Government to Government (G to G) cooperation schemes. This policy was briefly marked by a temporary suspension of TKI deployment to Saudi Arabia due to widespread cases of exploitation in the informal sector. Facilitated by BNP2TKI, the first country to establish a G to G agreement with Indonesia was South Korea in 2006. Two years later, Indonesia began sending TKI to Japan under a similar scheme, particularly for employment in hospital and elderly care sectors.

This series of policies indicates a systematic shift in the government’s paradigm towards ensuring protection, welfare, and professionalism for TKI.

2003

Market logic in the higher education system

The Tri Dharma (Three Pillars) of higher education—education, research, and community service—was institutionalised through Law No. 20 of 2003 on the National Education System. Articles 20 and 49 affirm that universities are obliged to implement the Tri Dharma, and that education funding—excluding teacher salaries and official training programmes—must amount to at least 20% of the national and regional budgets.

However, this obligation went unfulfilled until the mid-2000s. Only after the Constitutional Court Decision No. 13/PUU-VI/2008 was the government forced to raise the education budget to meet the minimum 20% threshold. This ruling marked an important milestone, but also raised further questions: Where is this funding directed, and whom does it truly serve?

Under the banner of development and competitiveness, the Tri Dharma became a strategic framework for producing a national human resource pipeline: universities are steered to produce “job-ready” graduates, “results-oriented” research, and “impactful” community service. Higher education no longer stands outside the market; it is increasingly bound to the logic of efficiency and industrial demand.

Using the language of innovation and dedication, many university projects have in fact reinforced old power structures—governing, intervening, standardising. Meanwhile, critical voices on access, epistemic hierarchies, or educational autonomy are often sidelined from mainstream discourse. One such example is the Industry-Based Research programme (Hibah Kompetitif from the Ministry of Research, Technology, and Higher Education).

2003

The Constitutional Court and the decentralisation of education

The establishment of the Constitutional Court (Mahkamah Konstitusi or MK) through Law No. 23 of 2003 provided civil society with a new legal avenue to challenge and review legislation, including those relating to the education sector. Over time, the Court evolved into a kind of “final legislator”—not a body that creates policy, but a forum where the public can question policy directions that fail to serve the common good. One landmark case upheld by the Court was the affirmation of the state’s obligation to allocate 20% of the national budget (APBN) to education, a mandate previously often neglected.

The state also enacted Law No. 32 and No. 33 of 2004 on Regional Governance and Fiscal Balance, which made education a mandatory responsibility of local governments, from primary to secondary levels. This decentralisation was intended to ensure that educational services aligned more closely with local needs. In practice, however, it had never been that simple—without sufficient human and financial resources, many regions experienced stagnation or even a decline in the quality of education services. As a result, educational inequality in Indonesia has only become more pronounced: where one studies increasingly determines what kind of future one might have.

2005

‘National’ standards and the professionalisation of teachers

Through Government Regulation No. 19 of 2005, the state for the first time established National Education Standards—eight components covering curriculum content, learning processes, graduate competencies, educators and education staff, facilities and infrastructure, management, financing, and assessment. To implement this, the National Education Standards Agency (BSNP) was formed to draft the details and monitor their execution in the field.

That same year, Law No. 14 of 2005 on Teachers and Lecturers reshaped the teaching profession. The minimum qualification was raised to a bachelor’s degree (S1/D4), and all teachers were required to undergo a certification process based on four core competencies: professional, pedagogical, social, and personal. Those who passed were promised a professional allowance. For those teaching in remote areas, additional incentives were offered.

In practice, however, certification often became a mere administrative ritual. Many certified teachers received little to no follow-up or ongoing support. The professionalisation agenda turned into a project of formalisation, rather than substantive quality improvement. In the end, many teachers continued working under precarious conditions with heavy workloads—particularly contract teachers who were never formally appointed by the state. Outside major cities, ‘professionalism’ often meant working harder with fewer resources. Behind the jargon of ‘professionalisation’, the state has disciplined—rather than dignified—its educators.

2005–2006

Compulsory education, BOS, and ‘Affordable schools’

In 2005, the government launched the Bantuan Operasional Sekolah [School Operational Assistance] or BOS programme to ease the cost burden of basic education and expand access to schooling. BOS funds were allocated to primary and lower secondary schools to support the 9-year compulsory education programme, allowing schools to reduce or eliminate fees charged to students.

This policy was introduced alongside the 2005–2009 National Medium-Term Development Plan (RPJMN), which marked a new direction in post-Reformasi development, with a focus on improving human resource quality—especially through basic education. The commitment was reinforced through Presidential Instruction No. 5 of 2006 on accelerating compulsory education and eradicating illiteracy.

However, expanded access did not always come with improved quality or equitable distribution. In the context of post–New Order decentralisation, the implementation of BOS often varied unevenly across regions. At the same time, a wave of low-cost private schools emerged—particularly in peri-urban and densely populated areas—operating with minimal standards. The state relied heavily on a per-capita funding logic (student-based funding), without addressing the structural inequalities between public schools, elite private institutions, and “economy” private schools.

2007–2008

The global crisis and the layered vulnerability of Indonesian Migrant Workers (TKI)

The global financial crisis, which began in the United States, rippled across the world and dealt a heavy blow to Indonesia’s economy. As a country dependent on foreign investment, raw material exports, and cheap labour, Indonesia faced massive capital flight and waves of layoffs. By mid-2009, 57,000 formal sector workers had lost their jobs.

This crisis also revealed how vulnerability is unequally distributed. Young people and women bore the heaviest impact. In 2008, youth unemployment (ages 15–24) reached 23.3%, and they were among the first to be laid off. The same was true for Indonesian migrant workers—most of whom are women—employed in informal or manufacturing sectors abroad. By December 2008, the government reported that 250,000 TKI were forcibly repatriated before their contracts ended. In many villages, remittances had served as a crucial economic safety net; when they disappeared, poverty sharply increased.

Eric Maskin, Nobel Laureate in Economics (2007), warned that global economic openness only deepens inequality if not accompanied by improvements in workforce skills. The state must invest in education and job training, rather than simply boasting of economic growth figures.

In Indonesia, formal vocational education—through vocational secondary schools (SMK) and polytechnics—as well as non-formal training at job training centres called Balai Latihan Kerja (BLK), should have offered a way forward. Yet in reality, their distribution is uneven, quality is inconsistent, and programmes often fail to respond to the actual needs of the labour market. At one point, SMK graduates even contributed the highest unemployment rates, proving that technical skills alone are not enough without clear career pathways and social protection.

Rather than empowering workers, the vocational system often ends up reinforcing the logic of cheap labour supply for a flexible job market. When crisis hits, young workers, women, and migrants—groomed as disposable and pliable labour—are the first to be cast aside. The real question remains: who is our vocational system really working for?

2008

From self-sufficiency to dependence: Care labour migration agreements in East Asia

A major milestone in the history of labour migration in East Asia was the signing of the Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) between Japan and both Indonesia and the Philippines—marking the first time Japan legally and selectively opened its doors to foreign workers in the elderly care sector. The agreement emerged amidst a demographic crisis: an ageing population, declining birth rates, and a shrinking domestic workforce since the early 1990s.

Through the EPA, Indonesia and the Philippines began sending nurses and caregivers who had undergone Japanese language training, professional certification, and a customised curriculum. Workers were required to pass Japan’s national examination within three years in order to continue working legally. This process shifted the role of the state: from merely educating for domestic needs to becoming a facilitator of labour export for a global care regime.

In the Philippines, the EPA built upon a long-established pathway for skilled migration. In Indonesia, the agreement spurred the restructuring of vocational education and the development of new infrastructure: vocational schools, training agencies, and formal migration channels. Labour was no longer viewed simply as a source of unskilled work, but rather as certified professionals, products of a state-regulated curriculum tailored to foreign demand.

The EPA paved the way for other East Asian countries such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea to develop similar models. In other words, labour migration—once criminalised—is now institutionalised, but only within “social” and feminised sectors like caregiving. This marks a quiet transformation from labour nationalism to a regional migration architecture.

2010 & 2014

State funding support for education

Amid education policies that increasingly leaned toward market mechanisms, the government sought to fulfil the constitutional mandate of the 1945 Constitution by channelling substantial public funds into the education sector. This initiative is aligned with the National Medium-Term Development Plan (RPJMN), outlined in the Masterplan for the Acceleration and Expansion of Indonesia’s Economic Development, 2011–2025 (MP3EI). It was a state response to the challenges posed by Indonesia’s vast geography, high demographic growth, and rapid urbanisation.

It began with the establishment of the Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP) under the administration of President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. Through this institution, the government allocated a Permanent Education Fund (DPA) to finance scholarships for high-achieving students. These included the Beasiswa Pendidikan Indonesia [Indonesia Education Scholarship] (BPI), Beasiswa Afirmasi [Affirmative Scholarships], and Beasiswa Presiden Republik Indonesia [the Presidential Scholarship of the Republic of Indonesia] (BPRI).

Furthermore, the Full Education Pathway Scholarship was introduced for students from low-income families—starting from primary school (SD) through to junior and senior secondary school (SMP and SMA), and ultimately public universities (PTN). For primary to secondary levels, the government launched the Poor Student Aid (BSM) scheme, and for university students, the BIDIKMISI [Scholarship for Underprivileged and High-Achieving Students]. The Presidential Scholarship programme followed in 2014, targeting postgraduate (master’s and doctoral) students.

In the same year, the government introduced the Indonesia Smart Card (KIP) to support the national nine-year compulsory education programme. KIP was designed to cover pupils’ basic needs, such as school bags, shoes, uniforms, or transportation costs between home and school. Previously, both direct school expenses; fees, books, uniforms, and stationery—and indirect costs—transport, private tutoring, pocket money, and other daily needs—had long been key reasons students were unable to continue their education.

2011–2012

Liberalisation of education, part 3

Since the enactment of higher education autonomy in 1999, the government’s efforts to liberalise the education system in Indonesia, particularly in the higher education sector, have become increasingly pronounced. Education reform has followed the trajectory of neoliberal interests. This is evident in the passing of Law No. 12 of 2012 on Higher Education, which contains a number of problematic provisions.

The concept of financial autonomy in higher education institutions is specifically regulated in Article 64, which addresses non-academic autonomy; Article 65, which grants State Universities with Legal Entity (PTN-BH) status the authority to establish business ventures and manage endowment funds; and Article 85, which explicitly states that the cost of higher education shall be the full responsibility of the students.

Law No. 12 of 2012 also laid the legal foundation for the entry of foreign universities into Indonesia. The government issued a number of regulations for foreign private entities wishing to establish higher education institutions within the country, including the designation of specific regions, types, and academic programmes that may be operated. It is emphasised that any cooperation must be balanced and aimed at improving national competitiveness.

Nevertheless, these decisions only reinforce the concerns raised by education sociologist Henry Giroux, who argues that neoliberal policies in higher education across developed countries have fundamentally altered the mission and vision of universities. Rather than cultivating critical thought or advancing the public good, higher education institutions are increasingly treated as machinery for fulfilling the economic expectations of students and society.

This reality has not gone unnoticed. Law No. 12 of 2012 on Higher Education has been subject to legal challenges for its perceived incompatibility with the 1945 Constitution, including the following criticisms:

1. University autonomy opens the door to the commercialisation of education;

2. The regulation and authorisation of foreign universities operating within Indonesia’s borders undermine the state's obligation to provide higher education for its citizens;

3. The law deconstructs higher education in Indonesia; from a public mandate to enlighten the nation into an enterprise aligned with business interests.

2011, 2015, 2017, & 2018

The masterplan for accelerated development and its realisation

Rapid demographic growth and urbanisation prompted the government to devise a long-term strategy. In 2011, it launched the Masterplan for the Acceleration and Expansion of Indonesia’s Economic Development (MP3EI), with the ambitious goal of raising per capita income to USD 15,000. Achieving this target required meeting two main conditions: first, raising the economic growth rate to an average of 8–9% between 2015 and 2025; and second, keeping inflation under control at an average of 3% up to 2025.

To achieve these aims, the government had an extensive list of homeworks to do. Among them were: improving the quality of human resources, enhancing the capacity for science and technology mastery, and strengthening economic competitiveness based on natural resources and human capital.

In his speech marking Indonesia’s 72nd Independence Day, President Joko Widodo claimed that “the quality of human development in Indonesia has produced encouraging results,” citing improvements in Indonesia’s Indeks Pembangunan Manusia [Human Development Index] (IPM). He expressed optimism that human capital development would continue, particularly through vocational education and training.

In reality, however, the 2015 Asian Development Bank report revealed that more than half or approximately 52% of Indonesian workers were underqualified for the standards required by their jobs. The Global Competitiveness Index 2016–2017 showed that Indonesia was in urgent need of reforms in education and workforce preparedness. The country ranked 63rd out of 138 in the pillar of Higher Education and Training, and 108th in Labour Market Efficiency.

Echoing these findings, the World Bank also concluded that Indonesia’s human resource competitiveness remained weak. Although school enrolment rates had increased significantly, actual student learning outcomes lagged behind those of other countries—dampening Indonesia’s competitiveness in the global economy.

2015 - now

Single market, double standards: Who gets to be what in ASEAN?

Since 31 December 2015, the ASEAN Economic Community (AEC) has been officially in effect. Its primary goal: to establish a single market and production base in Southeast Asia—eliminating barriers to the trade of goods, services, and investment, while enabling the mobility of skilled professionals such as doctors, nurses, architects, and accountants. However, the impact has been uneven. The Philippines, with a well-established labour export system and regulations such as the Migrant Workers and Overseas Filipinos Act, has been better prepared to compete in the regional market. Indonesia, by contrast, continues to struggle with aligning vocational education with industrial needs, and many of its migrant workers remain trapped in high-risk informal sectors.

Law No. 18 of 2017 on the Protection of Indonesian Migrant Workers has been enacted, yet its protections remain incomplete. Meanwhile, in 2018, the government issued Presidential Regulation No. 20 on the Use of Foreign Workers, which was criticised for being too permissive and for sidelining Indonesian migrant workers themselves. Protests followed, including a major demonstration on Labour Day, 1 May 2018. As Indonesia opens its doors to foreign workers in the name of investment, thousands of its citizens are being sent abroad as migrant workers.

This situation highlights the gap between the rhetoric of competitiveness and the reality of the job market. Other countries have taken different paths: South Korea, for instance, responded to a demographic crisis and extreme work culture by capping the national working hours at 52 per week—rejecting the logic of endless labour in favour of more sustainable productivity. In Indonesia, however, work is still largely seen as a mere economic driver, rather than a right worth safeguarding. In the context of the AEC and global investment, who truly benefits from this mobility?