Dream Big, Sell Cheap, Die Poor: The Indonesian Small Business Playbook
When it comes to Indonesian entrepreneurship, every day is a new contest. Not for innovation. Not for quality. But for who can slash their prices the fastest on the way to inevitable closure. It’s an enthusiastic race to the bottom; a demolition derby of sorts, except there are no helmets, no safeguards, and no one seems aware of the crash until they’re already in the wreckage.
Businesses aren’t being built to last. They’re constructed like weekend pop-up stalls, propped up by an unshakable belief that low prices and a catchy Instagram handle are enough to survive a competitive market. Six months later, many find themselves stunned at the lack of customers, burned out by unsustainable margins, and forced to quietly shutter their operations.
Yet remarkably, the cycle repeats. New ventures spring up with the same lack of preparation, the same lack of differentiation, clinging to the hope that this time undercutting everyone else will somehow lead to success. Here, "business strategy" often means little more than copying the nearest competitor and pricing it lower, as if competitive advantage were just a marketing myth.
Strategic Pricing, Now 90% Off!
There’s something oddly inspiring about the Indonesian approach to pricing: it’s radically democratic. Whether it’s your cousin selling cookies through WhatsApp groups or a hopeful entrepreneur opening their 13th vape shop in a mall already oversaturated with identical offerings, they all rally around one shared principle — just sell it cheaper than the next guy and pray the cash flow works out.
Price isn’t treated as part of a broad strategy; it’s an emotional response. The second a competitor appears, prices are hastily dropped. No thought is given to margins, sustainability, or brand value. Who needs a viable business model when you can have a fleeting sense of market share and a few celebratory likes on Instagram?
The dominant pricing model in use could best be described as "cost-plus-guesswork."
Roughly estimate your costs, while conveniently ignoring half of them.
Add just enough margin to avoid crying into your ledger at night.
Slice off whatever amount you think customers will actually tolerate.
Leverage delivery discounts from Gojek and Shopee to fill in the gaps.
It’s the kind of thinking where survival depends not on offering more value, but simply offering more discounts. You wouldn't set yourself on fire to stay warm, yet inexplicably, many seem shocked when they are left with ashes where a business once stood.
Everyone's an Entrepreneur Until the Rent is Due
Indonesia doesn’t suffer from a shortage of entrepreneurs. Walk down any street, or scroll through Instagram, and you’ll find an endless stream of side hustles, pop-up shops, and home-based ventures. From car air fresheners made from repurposed tofu packaging to artisanal bakso that look suspiciously like the ones from three other stalls, the entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well.
At first glance, it’s commendable. A nation brimming with creativity and drive. But scratch just a little beneath the surface and a different reality emerges: most aren’t solving problems — they’re simply copying them.
The formula is painfully familiar:
See a café open nearby.
Notice it racks up Instagram likes from aesthetically starved customers.
Open your own café.
Offer the same menu, but cheaper.
Scatter some dried flowers around and call it a brand.
Close in six months, citing "market conditions" as if consumer exhaustion wasn't predictable.
There’s rarely a moat. No unique proposition. No actual reason to exist beyond copying the success of others and assuming that somehow, your minimalistic logo will be the deciding factor.
Meanwhile, the few who dare to offer something different, something priced according to actual costs, sustainability, and future growth, are seen as either arrogant or deluded. Charging a fair price isn’t perceived as strategic; it’s treated like a personal insult to the customer’s sense of entitlement.
It's not entrepreneurship in its truest sense. It’s a performance. A curated mirage of success that lasts only until the first rent payment, the first dip in foot traffic, or the first Instagram trend shifts. Then the cycle resets, and the next cookie-cutter venture is already warming up in the wings.
“We Don’t Need Strategy, We’ve Got Followers”
Social media metrics have evolved into the ultimate yardstick of success. Likes, shares, and follower counts are celebrated with more enthusiasm than actual sales figures. Many founders have genuinely mistaken "visibility" for "viability," and proudly proclaim:
"Our business is doing amazing—we had 5,000 views on our last reel!"
Ask about profits, and the blank stare you receive says more than any financial report ever could.
This isn’t just a minor misunderstanding. It’s aesthetic entrepreneurship. The appearance of success is valued far more than the mechanics of building a sustainable business. It’s more important to have a consistent color palette than a consistent revenue stream. As long as your Instagram grid looks cohesive, the balance sheet can remain a mystery.
Why endure the rigour of learning customer lifetime value? Why bother constructing a competitive moat or investing in customer service training when you can spend three weeks perfecting a logo in a carefully chosen serif font?
Unfortunately, quality rarely wins. It’s not the best product or service that captures the market's attention, it’s whoever can shout the loudest in a pastel-colored Canva story. Depth is replaced with noise. Substance gives way to style. And actual business fundamentals are quietly abandoned in favor of crafting the perfect TikTok transition.
The sad thing here isn’t that businesses are using social media; it’s that many believe it replaces the need for an actual business model. Marketing should amplify a good business, not distract from the lack of one. But when “brand presence” is confused for solvency, you can understand why some choose applause over actual income.
Customers Trained Like Pavlov’s Dogs to Expect 70% Off Everything, Forever
Of all the participants in this spiral, the customers deserve a special mention. Sure, business owners are the kamikaze pilots of this false economy, but customers are the ones gleefully handing them the gasoline and cheering from the runway. Years of promotions, flash sales, and "Buy 2 Get 1" gimmicks have conditioned buyers to see discounts not as a bonus, but as a birthright.
Asking a customer to pay full price almost feels confrontational. You patiently explain that your premium product is made with better materials, ethical labor, and thoughtful craftsmanship, only to be met with a vacant, mildly offended look... as if you demanded access to their online banking. “But why is it more expensive than this similar-looking thing on Tokopedia for 29,000 rupiah with free shipping?” they ask, sincerely confused.
The answer, of course, is simple: one is a business built to last, and the other is a clearance sale dressed up in ecommerce packaging. But try explaining that in a culture where instant discounts have been hardwired into purchasing behaviour.
Rather than educating customers about value, many businesses take the path of least resistance. They slash prices, dilute their brands, and join the feeding frenzy, just to survive another quarter. And so, predictably, the cycle deepens: more undercutting, more failed businesses, and more customers convinced that anything costing more than Rp. 100k must come with either a side of rice or a government subsidy.
In the end, customers suffer too. They get cheaper goods, but also fewer choices, worse service, and a market unable to support anything truly innovative. A bargain, it turns out, isn't such a bargain when it costs the entire ecosystem.
Indonesia’s business scene is overflowing with potential, energy, and a remarkable willingness to hustle. Unfortunately, much of that is squandered on short-sighted strategies, carbon-copy models, and suicidal pricing wars that leave everyone worse off. The founders gasping for cash flow. The employees trapped in unstable jobs. The customers that have lost all sense of what real value even looks like.
If this cycle is going to be broken, it starts by asking uncomfortable, overdue questions:
Why are graduates with MBAs pricing products like they’ve never operated a calculator?
Why has “innovation” become code for "copy-paste someone else's idea but knock 20% off the price"?
Why, exactly, are we handing out participation trophies every time another identical coffee shop or bubble tea outlet appears, when destined to close before the year's end?
The uncomfortable truth is that until there is a conscious shift from chasing immediate sales to building actual, differentiated value, nothing will change. Businesses will keep collapsing, prices will keep plummeting, and the economy will keep cannibalizing itself in a gleeful race to the bottom.