Actually, This Is About You: A Rebuttal to Critics of the Indonesian Startup Satire
In recent days, a small but vocal coalition has emerged. comprised mainly of startup ecosystem lifers, a few investors with surprisingly delicate constitutions, and a couple of philosophical influencers who treat LinkedIn like it’s Davos. Their shared concern? A satirical post that dared to poke fun at Indonesia’s VC-fueled startup bubble. A bubble, it’s worth noting, that has received far more funding than introspection.
The backlash hasn’t been particularly original. The post was labelled “mean-spirited” (because humor must now come with a trigger warning), and the author was accused of not understanding “how hard it is to build a startup.” A fair point, perhaps, if the satire had targeted founders who are genuinely building. It didn’t. It targeted a system that keeps rewarding those who aren’t.
But the most predictable response — and the one that seems to appear on cue — was the nationality card. “You’re a non-local,” some muttered, as though citizenship automatically invalidates observation. Convenient.
So yes, it would be easy to move on. But occasionally, when a critique is so badly misunderstood, it deserves a reply. Not to justify the satire — it speaks for itself — but to make it clear: the people offended weren’t the ones being mocked. The system was.
“You’re Not Local” – A Convenient Way to Avoid the Message
Let’s start with the most reflexive defense: “You’re not from here.” It’s the startup ecosystem’s version of a polite brush-off—a way to sidestep the point without ever engaging with it. But as far as arguments go, it’s paper-thin. Geography isn't a shield against critique, and being an “outsider” doesn’t automatically make someone wrong. In fact, it’s often the outsider who spots what those inside the system have grown too used to seeing.
What makes this line even more disingenuous is that many of the sharpest, most credible voices behind these critiques are Indonesian. They’re not watching from a distance. They’re in the boardrooms, in the trenches, in the Zoom calls at 11pm. They’re founders trying to raise capital. Operators trying to build teams. Investors who care about outcomes beyond the next funding round. Some live in Jakarta. Some live in London or Singapore. But all of them care deeply about the direction this ecosystem is heading.
What unites these voices is not their location, but their frustration. They’ve seen the ecosystem prioritize connections over competence, optics over substance. They’ve tried to say something. And more often than not, they’ve been ignored—until someone from outside echoes the same point, and suddenly the defense kicks in: “You wouldn’t understand.”
It’s a clever way to avoid engaging with the message. But it’s also a dangerous one. If we limit who’s allowed to speak based on where they’re standing, we cut ourselves off from valuable perspectives. And more importantly, we stall the kind of critical conversations the ecosystem desperately needs.
Truth doesn’t care where your passport was issued. And caring about a system—enough to critique it—isn’t a threat. It’s a contribution.
“Startups Are Hard” – Sure, But That’s Not the Point
Yes, building a startup is hard. No one’s disputing that. It’s brutal, unpredictable, and often thankless. Most people who’ve done it—really done it—carry the scars to prove it. But that’s precisely why this conversation needs to happen. When something is difficult and meaningful, it deserves to be protected from those who treat it like a game.
The satire was never aimed at real founders building real businesses. It wasn’t mocking the people bootstrapping with limited capital, iterating painfully, or staying up until 3 a.m. trying to keep their product alive. The target was something else entirely: the theatre. The pretense. The coordinated vanity metrics, bloated valuations, and pitch decks designed more for applause than for solving problems.
We watched startups raise massive rounds on the strength of their storytelling while quietly burning through cash at unsustainable rates. Many never had a viable path to profitability—and frankly, some never planned to. These weren’t missteps made in earnest; they were strategic plays built on the assumption that perception was more important than performance.
When the crash came, it wasn’t just a matter of “well, startups fail.” These weren’t honest failures. These were avoidable implosions—fueled by hype, enabled by capital, and ultimately, paid for by others. Talented employees were left jobless. Trust in the ecosystem eroded. Retail investors, many driven by a sense of national pride, ended up holding the losses while the original players moved on.
So no, the jokes weren’t about the difficulty of building. They were about those who skipped the hard parts entirely. Those who acted the role of builder while playing an entirely different game. Critiquing that isn’t cruelty. It’s clarity—and maybe, if we’re lucky, a small step toward accountability.
“It’s Easy to Criticize” – Sure. It’s Easier to Stay Quiet.
Silence is the path of least resistance. Saying nothing would have been simple. It would’ve kept relationships smooth, inboxes pleasant, and egos unbruised. I could’ve joined the chorus of startup cheerleaders and posted the usual recycled LinkedIn congratulations: “Huge milestone!” “So proud of this journey!” “Excited to see what’s next!”
But I didn’t. Not because I enjoy provocation for provocation’s sake, but because something didn’t sit right. Because beneath the glossy press releases and fundraising hype, there were real issues festering—and they were too important to ignore.
“It’s easy to criticize” is a dismissive take, and ironically, it often comes from those who have never had to stick their neck out for an uncomfortable truth. Because here’s the thing: criticism—especially public, thoughtful, and satirical criticism—isn’t easy. It invites backlash. It gets misunderstood. It’s interpreted as negativity even when it’s grounded in concern.
But it’s still worth doing.
Because what’s been happening in the ecosystem isn’t just a few startups failing. It’s a pattern of structural denial. It’s the erasure of accountability behind the thin veil of “hustle.” It’s a culture that celebrates noise over signal, connections over competence, and optics over outcomes.
Some of us spoke up because we care—not just about the story Indonesia tells the world, but the one it tells itself. We believe in progress, but progress only comes when problems are confronted, not ignored. So no—it’s not easy to criticize. It’s uncomfortable. But the cost of saying nothing, of watching the same patterns repeat unchecked, would be far higher in the long run.
If anything, the real question is: why weren’t more people willing to say something sooner?
Let’s Talk About the Real Damage—Because It Wasn’t the Jokes
If the jokes stung, that’s understandable. Satire, by nature, is meant to be a little uncomfortable. But if the discomfort came from the tone rather than the truth behind it, then maybe it’s time to shift focus. Because the real damage—the kind that matters—didn’t come from a few posts with punchlines. It came from what was happening before anyone started writing about it.
Talented, capable Indonesian founders with meaningful ideas were overlooked because they didn’t speak the right jargon or move in the right circles. They didn’t have flashy decks, foreign co-founders, or slick catchphrases like “super app for the archipelago.” They had real businesses—but real wasn’t what the market was buying.
Meanwhile, countless local professionals left stable roles to join startups marketed as the next big thing. They believed the pitch. They trusted the vision. And then, barely six months in, they found themselves on the receiving end of layoffs, told with a smile that it was part of a “pivot.”
Retail investors were sold a dream, dressed in red and white, pitched as a moment of national pride. But behind the sentiment was a different reality: companies looking for an exit ramp, not a growth journey. And when those stocks crashed post-SPAC, it wasn’t the founders or VCs who took the hit—it was ordinary Indonesians who thought they were buying into the future.
And still, somehow, satire is what people get upset about.
If that’s where the outrage lands—not on the broken promises, but on the commentary pointing them out—then it’s worth asking who we’re really protecting. Because those who benefited already got what they came for. The ones left picking up the pieces deserve a little more than silence. They deserve honesty—even if it’s uncomfortable.
This was never about bitterness or tearing something down for the sake of a reaction. It wasn’t a crusade against startups, or success, or ambition. It was a call for honesty—first with ourselves, and then with each other.
Indonesia has all the ingredients for a thriving tech ecosystem: talent, creativity, resilience, and a massive, diverse market. But it also deserves a funding environment that rewards substance over showmanship. One that prioritizes business models over buzzwords, and long-term value over short-term narrative wins.
If satire is what it takes to cut through the noise—then yes, it’s worth it. Not because it’s snarky, but because it’s effective. Because sometimes, you need to step back and laugh—not to mock, but to see things more clearly. Humor can be a scalpel, not just a punchline.
To those still bristling at the critique: I hear you. Truly. But we’re likely on the same side—we want an ecosystem that lasts. We just differ on how soon we’re willing to confront the parts of it that aren’t working.
So if you’re done defending the illusion, there’s room at the table. Let’s talk—honestly.