Forbes 30 Under 30 Indonesia: Celebrating Mediocrity, One Rich Kid at a Time

Once upon a time, the Forbes 30 Under 30 list was the stuff of entrepreneurial bedtime stories. It was an aspiration for Indonesia’s brightest young stars—the underdogs, the hustlers, the “one day, we’ll make it” dreamers armed with nothing but their wits, an unreliable internet connection, and an addiction to over-brewed kopi. Landing a spot was like receiving the entrepreneurial equivalent of a knighthood: it screamed “I made it!” louder than any Instagram bio ever could.

But time has a way of dulling even the sharpest tools. Today, the list has transformed, shedding its gritty roots for a glitzy veneer. No longer is it a meritocratic accolade for the self-made. Instead, it feels like a velvet-roped lounge, and the bouncer’s asking, “Are you on the guest list? Oh, also, have you paid the cover charge?” The myth of raw talent overcoming the odds has been swapped out for something more... transactional.

Whispers of nepotism swirl. “Privilege-as-a-feature” now seems to be the unspoken tagline. And instead of recognizing those who’ve made it, the list has become a handy booster seat for those wanting to jump the VC queue. Curious, indeed.

A Meritocracy or a Price Tag?

If the murmurs on social media are true, then the once-respected path to Forbes 30 Under 30 isn’t built on grit and innovation but on the simple swipe of a credit card. It’s less “who worked the hardest” and more “who wired the funds fastest.” The whispers about the selection process now have a certain “donate to our unbiased panel” vibe, leaving us all wondering if the next logical step is a Buy One, Get One offer.

But the cost of admission doesn’t stop at the bank account—it’s reputational, too. What was once a badge of validated accomplishment is now just a shiny sticker slapped on for, well, connections. Open the list and it reads like a Jakarta socialite’s wedding guest book: last names synonymous with skyscrapers, luxury malls, and family estates that could double as airports. Sure, a few genuine achievers make it in, but when you’re wading through a sea of privilege, it’s hard to see the rare pearls of merit.

And the irony? Wasn’t the list supposed to spotlight those who’d already earned recognition? Now it seems to work in reverse: securing your spot on the list isn’t the prize but the pregame. Flash your Forbes credentials, and suddenly VCs come knocking. It’s like winning a race because you bribed the starter pistol guy—not quite the inspiring success story the rest of us were hoping for.

If this is what meritocracy looks like, then someone clearly outsourced it to the marketing department.

The Curious Case of the Trust Fund Trailblazer

To be fair, it’s hard to muster pure vitriol for these trust fund trailblazers. They didn’t ask to be born into mansions with personal butlers who probably have better LinkedIn profiles than most of us. Much like the rest of us didn’t ask to spend our 20s paying off student loans with side gigs teaching 10-year-olds how to play the ukulele.

And honestly, some of them do try. They toss off the family name like an oversized jacket, insisting they want to be judged on their merits. They talk about “bootstrap culture” while clearly forgetting that their boots came custom-made from Italy. And their ventures? Oh, they’re “disruptive,” alright—if by “disruptive” you mean “a third artisanal oat milk brand in a market already drowning in lactose-free options.”

Here's the real 101: the stories of “breaking free” from their family’s wealth to “forge their own path.” Only, upon closer inspection, that path looks suspiciously well-paved. Did they really "build" that unicorn tech startup, or was it just a hobby bankrolled by the conveniently named “Family Fund for Experimental Projects”? Their social enterprise for empowering artisans? Beautiful. Inspirational. Funded entirely by trust fund dividends.

Forbes used to celebrate those who scrapped, hustled, and clawed their way out of the trenches to build ladders in a world of walls. Now, it’s the home of polished elevator pitches from people riding escalators made of solid gold. And while we appreciate the effort to add a little struggle to their personal brand stories, it’s hard not to roll your eyes when the “bootstrapper” also happens to own the factory making the boots.

VCs, Credibility, and the Art of Reverse Engineering Recognition

Here’s the twist nobody asked for: Forbes 30 Under 30, once an aspirational target, has seemingly morphed into a venture capital honeytrap. Slap the logo on your pitch deck, toss in an “as seen on Forbes” soundbite, and watch the investor meetings roll in. Forget having a solid business model or even a functioning product—what you really need is that little golden badge of “recognition.” Recognition for what? Well, existing, apparently.

The process has become a weird, self-sustaining cycle. You’re recognized because you’ve raised funds, and you raise funds because you’re recognized. It’s like a snake eating its own tail, only in this case, the snake wears a Gucci belt and calls itself a "serial entrepreneur."

And while the privileged few ride this carousel of mutual validation, the genuinely innovative, underfunded creators—the ones who might actually change the world—are left wondering what they’re doing wrong. And they’re not doing anything wrong. They just don’t have the connections (or cash) to buy their way onto the shortcut train. And in a system where prestige equals credibility, they’re stuck watching their dreams languish while someone else coasts on their “Forbes bump.”

The real tragedy isn’t just the tarnished credibility of the list itself—it’s the lost opportunity for people who might have genuinely benefited from that spotlight. But who cares about real innovation when the system is busy rewarding who can game it best? At least those sidelined innovators have their NFT side hustle or artisanal peanut butter business to fall back on. You know, the things they built while the Forbes alumni were busy posing for their next “hustle culture” feature.

When the Bar Is So Low It’s a Speed Bump

Remember when the Forbes 30 Under 30 felt like a shrine to brilliance? The kind of brilliance that made the rest of us question our life choices while staring at an empty bank account? It was a gallery of people solving real problems: eradicating diseases, revolutionizing industries, and, in general, making you feel like you wasted your 20s eating instant noodles and rewatching sitcoms.

Today? The list feels like it was curated in a brainstorming session held at a coffee shop with free Wi-Fi. The achievements on display often resemble entries in a high school talent show.

Take the clothing brands gracing the list. You know, the ones printing generic slogans like “Hustle Harder” on overpriced t-shirts. Because what says innovation more than a $70 cotton tee? Then there are the startups , which are often just carbon copies of already-existing apps, but with a shinier UI and, of course, a heavy focus on buzzwords like “disruptive” and “synergy.” And let’s not overlook the nonprofits that seem to spend 90% of their budget on marketing and the remaining 10% on organizing that one annual charity gala attended by the same wealthy friends funding it.

And then we have the influencers . Yes, managing a personal brand is tough—curating perfect selfies is basically an unpaid internship in digital marketing. But does having a million Instagram followers really stand shoulder-to-shoulder with someone creating sustainable farming solutions? Apparently, Forbes thinks it does.

At this point, the list feels less like a hall of fame and more like a participation trophy for anyone with good PR. The bar hasn’t just been lowered; it’s lying flat on the ground, and even then, some are still tripping over it.

Once a celebration of ambition and ingenuity, the Forbes 30 Under 30 Indonesia list has devolved into a twisted game show—“Who Wants to Buy Prestige?”—where the wealthiest and best-connected contestants are crowned as entrepreneurial royalty. The drama is entertaining, sure, but let’s be real: this isn’t the aspirational tale it pretends to be. It’s less “rags-to-riches” and more “inheritance-to-publicity.”

What’s tragic is the missed opportunity. Indonesia overflows with young, brilliant minds who are building actual solutions, often armed with little more than creativity and sheer determination. These are the real innovators—people creating affordable healthcare tech, sustainable farming practices, or transformative education tools for underprivileged communities. But since they don’t have the means to bankroll their way onto a glitzy list, their work remains in the shadows.

Here’s an idea: let’s ditch the vanity awards and start our own Career Candour list—“30 Under 30 Who Actually Did Something.” Sure, it might lack the glossy magazine covers and networking clout, but at least it’d offer substance over spectacle. Until then, maybe the ultimate achievement isn’t making it onto a list at all—it’s stepping back, rolling your eyes, and laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing has become.