In today’s narrative, Indonesia is often framed as the country with immense digital potential, a massive user base, and a growing pool of talented technologists. But we shift to the current reality, and a different pattern emerges. As I mentioned in my previous post, we are not lacking in intelligence. But we are, quite problematically, still trapped in a mindset that questions the legitimacy of our own capabilities. This mindset is far more damaging than any market competition or regulatory barrier.
I have come to realize, painfully and repeatedly, that the biggest challenge of building tech products in Indonesia is not only what I spilled in my earlier content. It’s the quiet, corrosive resistance that comes from within, rooted in subjectivity, envy, and a deeply ingrained inferiority complex, which affects how we evaluate ourselves and others.
Let me be specific. There is a pervasive belief that if Indonesians build a product, it must be of second-class quality, unless proven otherwise by foreign validation. The moment someone says, “This was made in Indonesia,” the room becomes quiet, doubt rises, and the bar shifts. We don’t critique the product based on performance, design, or scalability. We critique its origin.
“Who made it?”
“Which company?”
“Can something made here really be that good?”
“Wait, this is local? Are you sure it works?”
If it’s from outside, it’s given the benefit of the doubt. If it’s homegrown, we demand impossible perfection at first sight, and even then, we hesitate to support it.
What’s worse, this rooted perspective is not limited to institutional leaders or the market elite. It exists horizontally across the ecosystem, even among peers. We don’t just question our own capabilities; we also often resent those who dare to act on them. When someone builds something remarkable, the reaction isn’t always support—it’s suspicion.
Too many leaders in our ecosystem lead with fear. They want guarantees, not experiments. They want to be the last to believe, after everyone else has already clapped. This inferiority is subtle, yet deeply ingrained. It’s not always spoken aloud, but it manifests in decision-making, hesitation, how we price ourselves, and how we explain our creations.
This mindset is rooted in a long history. Indonesia is not (yet) a country built on the tradition of inventing its own core technologies. Our economic growth has been driven primarily by consumption and adoption, rather than deep innovation. That’s why when someone builds something technology infrastructure or a security framework, the first reaction isn’t excitement, but doubt.
Many decision-makers expect local products to be flawless from day one—something they never demand from global tools. Ironically, when foreign solutions fail, we justify it as “expected bugs.” But when local products show minor flaws, the verdict is often final: “See? Told you it wasn’t ready.”
Yet we forget: no world-class product starts perfect. Every technology giant had to grow through real-world use, feedback, and support. That same patience must be extended to local builders. Indonesia won’t become a tech-producing nation overnight. Building technology is a long game, and every missing feature today is an opportunity to co-create tomorrow because progress is iterative. Because specs improve over time. And because what these builders need is not blind applause, but intentional support.
If Inferiority Is the Wound, Let Superiority Be the Response
The very reason I try to build here is that Indonesia doesn’t yet have a strong tradition of producing its own technological foundations. And that’s not something to be ashamed of—it’s a reality we can change, whether we can either continue importing the past or dare to invent the future.
Yes, the specs aren’t always complete. Yes, the journey is still a long way off. But every imperfection today is a symptom of something powerful: that we’re finally trying. Trying to stand up. Trying to build. Trying to shift from being passive recipients to active creators of technology. And what we need now is not more skepticism—but more shoulders behind the push.
We’ve spent far too long seeing our own capabilities through a foreign lens—believing that what’s global is automatically better, and what’s homegrown is always in need of a qualifier. That belief doesn’t just affect our products; it limits our imagination to create.
I don’t see this sense of inferiority as a flaw. I see it as a signal. A tension. A pressure that, if we’re brave enough to face it, can be transformed into something powerful. Because actual superiority doesn’t come from denying our weaknesses—it comes from owning them, and then outgrowing them.
What’s missing in Indonesia isn’t brilliance. It’s a belief. Belief that our ideas are not only valid, but necessary. That our problems require local answers. That we can build original solutions, starting from zero if we must—and that doing so is not a detour, but the very path toward sovereignty.
This is why I chose to build here. I didn’t come back just to join the tech race—I came back to help change the terrain. To demonstrate that even with incomplete specifications, limited resources, and institutional skepticism, we can take the first step. That we must begin.
And no, it won’t be perfect. Our first drafts will have bugs. Our platforms won’t scale like the global giants—yet. But every line of code, every data pipeline, every decision made locally is a brick in the foundation of a new digital narrative—one where we are no longer waiting to be included, but building what we need on our own terms.
I believe that our inferiority—if harnessed with humility and direction—can become the very thing that unlocks our superiority. Not a superiority that competes by copying, but one that leads by understanding: our culture, our constraints, our capacity. The kind of leadership that comes not from confidence alone, but from conviction earned through building what didn’t exist before.
It’s about creating a future where “made in Indonesia” no longer comes with a footnote, a workaround, or an apology. A future where our engineers, our designers, our researchers—don’t have to leave the country to do world-class work. A future where our digital infrastructure is no longer an extension of someone else’s empire, but an expression of our own independence.
That’s what we must build toward. And if we can transform our doubts into discipline, our inferiority into urgency, and our local insight into global relevance—then Indonesia won’t just catch up; It will define its own lane.