State-Owned Enterprises in Indonesia: Where Profits Take a Backseat to Publicity

When it comes to Indonesia’s bureaucracy, State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) reign as a particularly curious species of corporate life. Unlike their capitalist cousins, SOEs don’t waste their energy on pedestrian objectives like shareholder value or profitability. Such banal pursuits are for mere mortals. Here, the ultimate goal is loftier: elevating the glow of those pulling the strings, making the powers-that-be appear as the saviors of the nation.

It’s a theatrical production of epic proportions. Imagine governance colliding with the artistry of wayang kulit, where CEOs aren’t leaders but puppets, dancing to the rhythm of political imperatives. The puppet masters? Politicians whose true performance metrics lie not in fiscal prudence but in the effusive applause of their social media followers. Who needs a strong balance sheet when you’ve got the comment section filled with “Mantap, Pak!”?

Prepare yourself for a whimsical exploration of this upside-down universe of capitalism—Indonesian SOE-style—where spreadsheets are props, profits are optional, and the business of business is, well, not business. In this world, image isn’t just everything; it’s the only thing.

What’s Profit Anyway? An Inconvenient Metric

To grasp the mystique of Indonesian State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs), you must first abandon the quaint, colonial-era notion that businesses exist to generate profit. That’s the kind of capitalist propaganda you’d expect from people who still think ROI matters. Here, profitability isn’t just a secondary concern—it’s barely on the syllabus. For an Indonesian SOE, profit is like a decorative fruit bowl: nice to look at, but hardly integral to the feast.

What truly matters is alignment with the grand narrative. These enterprises aren’t judged on trivialities like efficiency or solvency. No, their value lies in their ability to dazzle the public while serving as the Swiss Army knife of political ambitions. Is the SOE orchestrating a massive infrastructure project in time for election season? Marvelous. Is it creating jobs that look good on PowerPoint slides, even if those jobs involve six people supervising one shovel? Perfect. And if these initiatives rack up losses large enough to make a Big Four auditor break into a cold sweat? Well, that’s just a necessary sacrifice on the altar of prestasi.

Profit, in this ecosystem, is nothing more than a theoretical construct. What truly reigns supreme is the sacred art of perception management. Quarterly earnings reports are for suckers. Quarterly ribbon-cutting ceremonies, however, are the high holy days of the SOE calendar. Never mind that the ribbons often end up being the most productive part of the entire project.

In this game, image is king, queen, and court jester all rolled into one. As long as the public sees shiny new things and the political overlords can bask in the glow of their “achievements,” who cares if the actual financials resemble a tragic novella?

CEO Selection: A Symphony of Synergy and Nepotism

If you think CEOs of State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) in Indonesia are chosen for their visionary leadership or business acumen, think again. Forget meritocracy. The selection process here is more nuanced, a delicate balance of political connections, unwavering loyalty, and the rare gift of looking serene in the face of financial catastrophe.

Picture this: you’re an ambitious politician with a relative who’s been nagging you for an upgrade from their day job running a karaoke bar. What do you do? You sprinkle a little bureaucratic magic, and voilà—they’re now the CEO of an SOE overseeing assets worth billions. It’s not nepotism; it’s synergy. Opportunity meeting proximity. And before you clutch your pearls, let’s not overlook the CEO’s qualifications: a Rolodex of political allies, an unflinching ability to attend ribbon-cutting ceremonies with gusto, and an Instagram game that’s on point.

Once installed, these CEOs aren’t bogged down by pedestrian goals like increasing revenue or trimming inefficiencies. No, their primary mission is far more important: ensuring that the ministry’s reputation shines like a freshly polished keris. The company’s survival? A secondary concern, at best. After all, if the enterprise falters, there’s always another bailout waiting around the corner.

It’s less about running a business and more about performing a role. The CEO’s real job is to deliver photo ops, head-nod-worthy soundbites, and just enough activity to keep the critics mildly confused. It’s a masterclass in performative leadership—where the stakes are billions of rupiah, but the only currency that matters is political goodwill. Some might call this the Indonesian Dream; others might call it Tuesday.

The Strategic Loss: A National Art Form

To outsiders, a balance sheet bleeding red ink might scream disaster. But in the world of Indonesian State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs), losses are less a problem and more an art form. Like abstract expressionism, they require a refined palate to truly appreciate. These “strategic losses” are painted with the broad brushstrokes of euphemisms—“national investments,” “long-term sacrifices,” or the ever-reassuring “building the nation.” Critics might see a mess; insiders see a masterpiece.

Consider the case of an SOE charged with bringing internet to rural areas—a noble cause in theory. In practice, it’s a tale of delays, budget overruns, and eventual “success” that provides villagers with internet speeds so slow they make Jakarta’s rush hour feel brisk. Yet the executives in charge aren’t worried about minor details like functionality. No, their focus is on the grand unveiling, complete with a plaque, ribbon, and ceremonial selfies for social media. Actual connectivity? That’s a footnote.

Losses in this ecosystem are less about financial failure and more about setting the stage for public relations triumphs. A multi-billion-rupiah railway project running five years late? Think of it as an opportunity for another groundbreaking ceremony. What matters isn’t whether the project works—it’s whether it can inspire rousing speeches and glowing headlines about progress.

And let’s not forget the masterstroke: positioning these losses as patriotic. Questioning them risks being labeled ungrateful or, worse, anti-nationalist. After all, these sacrifices are for the greater good—or at least that’s what the PowerPoint slides say.

In Indonesian SOEs, losses aren’t mistakes; they’re the cost of the performance. And in this drama, profitability is the antagonist, while the heroes are speeches, ribbon cuttings, and unwavering national pride.

The People’s Company: A Public Relations Dream

Despite their well-documented inefficiencies, persistent losses, and occasional flirtations with outright chaos, State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) in Indonesia excel in one area: public relations. Where some see failure, these organizations see opportunity. Where others see calamity, they craft a feel-good narrative. Every catastrophe is a “learning experience,” every misstep a “building block,” and every fiasco a mere “temporary glitch” on the sacred path to national greatness.

Take, for example, the launch of a shiny new SOE airline route to a remote province. Never mind that the flights operate at a jaw-dropping 10% capacity or that the “passengers” are mostly SOE employees sent to fill seats. Instead, focus on the glossy promotional video: wide-eyed children waving at the landing plane, jubilant local officials, and the ceremonial cutting of a ribbon as if air travel itself had just been invented. Cue the hashtags: #PrideOfTheNation, #ProgressTogether, and, implicitly, #IgnoreTheBalanceSheet.

The genius here isn’t just in spin—it’s in the absolute commitment to spin. For SOEs, public relations isn’t a side hustle; it’s their raison d'être. The business model may resemble a poorly built sandcastle enduring a typhoon, but as long as the narrative is intact, who’s keeping score?

Critics could point out the staggering inefficiencies or the ballooning debt, but they’d be missing the point entirely. SOEs don’t measure success in profits but in likes, shares, and glowing media coverage. The balance sheet may be a horror show, but the public relations department is an Oscar-winning director.

In the end, the story sells. And in this game, perception isn’t just reality—it’s the only reality that matters. So what if the company’s finances are in freefall? As long as the hashtags are trending, the mission is accomplished.

In the end, Indonesia’s State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) transcend mere business operations; they’re political theaters, cultural landmarks, and the ultimate flex of state pride. These entities aren’t here to chase profits or impress global financial analysts—they’re here to craft a narrative. Headlines matter more than bottom lines, and a flashy ground-breaking ceremony will always outrank the drudgery of sustainable financial planning.

From burning through taxpayer cash like it’s a bottomless pit to launching projects that are as functional as a decorative umbrella in a monsoon, SOEs excel at one thing: making everyone in power look like visionaries. Sure, those “visions” may resemble mirages more than tangible progress, but let’s not get bogged down in pesky details like results or impact.

And so, the glorious cycle continues. The budgets grow, the losses deepen, but the ribbon-cuttings get fancier, and the speeches become more resplendent. Somewhere between the debt write-offs and the next bailout, a new project is announced, and the crowd claps on cue.

Here’s to the SOEs: may they always prioritize optics over outcomes, storytelling over spreadsheets, and image over integrity. In this performance of governance, profitability is optional, but the show must go on.