High School, High Office: Indonesia’s Surprisingly Exclusive Low Bar for Parliament
Indonesia requires a high school diploma to join parliament. Most countries require even less. So what should we expect from our lawmakers?
Welcome to the world’s third-largest democracy, where legislative power can be yours with little more than a blazer and a diploma from an institution that doesn’t actively fall into the sea. No need for a stellar GPA, a ten-page CV, or even basic spreadsheet skills. Just survive high school (any high school) and you, too, can vote on macroeconomic policy.
It sounds absurd. But look beneath the veneer and the absurdity begins to look... intentional. Not in a malicious way, but in the oddly sincere logic of a country that sees democracy as truly open. Why limit parliament to the academically anointed when the constitution is supposed to serve everyone?
Of course, there’s something mildly terrifying about this egalitarianism. A nation that tests in the bottom quartile globally for math proficiency also sends its high-school graduates to design fiscal frameworks. It's as if someone handed the karaoke mic to the most enthusiastic singer without checking if they knew the lyrics.
But still, it’s democracy. Messy, wild, and in this case, holding a high school report card.
SMA and the State: Indonesia’s Minimum Bar Is Still a Bar... Technically
In Indonesia, if you want to join the DPR (The House of Representatives), you’ll need to meet one formal requirement: graduate from high school.
That’s it. No bachelor’s, no D3, no thesis defense where you pretend to know what a methodology is. Just SMA or something "equivalent." And by "equivalent," we mean anything that doesn’t set off alarms at the Ministry of Education.
This became a national conversation recently when someone sued the Vice President, arguing that his high school education wasn’t valid under Indonesian law. The irony, of course, is that Singapore’s worst school is still academically superior to many local institutions. But legality, like nationalism, doesn’t always concern itself with rankings.
Now here's where it gets interesting. Most countries don’t require any formal education to join parliament. You can be completely degree-free in the UK, US, or Canada, and still pass laws about AI, crypto, or nuclear energy. And yet Indonesia has decided that surviving high school is the line between legislative legitimacy and chaos.
Article 240 of Law No. 7/2017 puts this in writing. In its own bureaucratic way, it says: if you made it through SMA, you can probably be trusted with a seat in government. It’s an optimistic view of civic education. It’s also a bit like handing someone a pilot’s license because they once rode shotgun in a Grab car.
Still, the rule exists. And in a way, that’s progress. If nothing else, it says: there is a bar. It’s just not especially high.
A Diploma Is a Social Construct Anyway: Comparing Global Bars (Or Lack Thereof)
But let’s hold the national shame parade for a moment. Yes, Indonesia’s educational requirement for parliament seems low. Yes, a high school diploma might feel like a flimsy credential for someone tasked with shaping national policy. But here's the thing: most other countries don’t even have that.
In the United States, you can run for Congress with nothing more than a birth certificate and a pulse. There is no requirement to prove you've read a book, or written an email, or passed a group project.
The United Kingdom doesn’t care whether you graduated from Eton or from Google. Just be 18, eligible, and capable of navigating bureaucracy without filing your candidacy in crayon.
In Germany, educational attainment is irrelevant. If you’re old enough and German enough, you’re in. Just don’t say anything too logical or someone might accuse you of being French.
France, Canada, Australia, Japan, Korea, New Zealand? All proudly running democracies with zero formal education requirements for national office.
Meanwhile, Indonesia, with one of the lowest high school performance outcomes in international testing, is actually one of the very few countries that legally requires you to finish it before you start legislating.
So, credit where it’s due: Indonesia draws a line, however faint. And that line says, “You must have at least once feared a math final exam before you can run the country.”
But What Does “High School” Even Mean?
On paper, “high school diploma” sounds reassuring. It suggests a basic level of academic maturity, maybe even the ability to handle a calculator. But it turns out that not all diplomas are created equal. Some come from rigorous national systems with centralized exams and cutthroat grading curves. Others arrive freshly laminated from a “school” that also sells prepaid SIM cards.
PISA is the global exam that quietly tells us what 15-year-olds actually know. In 2022, Indonesia’s performance was... aspirational.
Only 18% of students reached the basic threshold in mathematics. That’s the level where you can compare prices or calculate how long it takes to get from A to B without ending up in C.
In reading, only 25% of students hit the basic level.
Science? A more respectable 34%, which is what you might expect if students are regularly left alone with Bunsen burners.
Now compare that with countries like the UK, Germany, or Korea, where 70 to 85% of students clear these same benchmarks. That’s more than a gap.
So when Indonesia says someone finished high school, the international translation might be: they were present during the schooling process.
Now imagine that same person sitting in parliament, voting on tax structures, subsidies, or digital regulation. Fractions? Optional. Macroeconomic literacy? Let’s not get carried away.
But give them credit. What they lack in formal skills, they make up for in political instincts, networking, and the enduring confidence of someone who believes they absolutely belong in the room.
And isn’t that the essence of modern governance everywhere?
The Post-Election Upgrader: From SMA to S1 in 1 Term or Less!
For some, entering the DPR with only a high school diploma isn’t the end of their educational story. It’s just the first chapter in a five-year academic adventure, funded by the public and occasionally interrupted by budget hearings.
These are the Post-Election Upgraders; lawmakers who show up with an SMA certificate, a fresh haircut, and a dream, then exit their term with an S1 or even S2 degree tucked under their arm.
There are real-life examples.
Mulan Jameela, pop-star-turned-legislator, earned a degree in English Literature mid-term.
Tommy Kurniawan, another entertainment-industry alumnus, completed his computer science degree while helping decide what Indonesia’s internet policy should look like.
But the question often whispered in policy circles is not that they graduated, but where. Many of these degrees come from institutions that have been legally recognized though perhaps not academically respected.
Still, the pursuit of education is hard to hate. And if these MPs are actually sitting in classrooms between committee sessions, power to them. If they’re merely buying credibility, well, at least the economy benefits.
In a system where meritocracy is still warming up in the locker room, this kind of upward academic mobility is both inspiring and deeply ambiguous.
So... Should There Be a Minimum? Or Is This Democracy Working As Intended?
Maybe Indonesia’s low educational bar for parliament isn’t a design flaw. Maybe it’s exactly what democracy was meant to look like.
In most so-called “advanced” democracies, imposing an education requirement for public office is seen as elitist, even anti-democratic. The UN’s International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights says the quiet part out loud: education barriers risk disenfranchising the very people democracy claims to empower. The principle is simple. If voters want to elect someone who struggled with long division, that’s their sovereign right.
It’s not about who holds the most degrees. It’s about who holds the most votes. And if your constituency prefers charisma over calculus, so be it.
Maybe that’s what makes Indonesia oddly progressive. By drawing the line at a high school diploma, it sets a minimum, but a modest one. Just enough to weed out the truly alarming, not so high as to exclude the merely unpolished.
Sure, some lawmakers may not understand monetary policy. But that’s what staffers, briefing notes, and blind confidence are for. Besides, we’ve all clicked “I agree” on terms we didn’t understand. Parliament is just that, but louder.
Is that beautiful? Maybe.
Is it terrifying? Also yes.
But in a democracy, the point isn’t to filter the smartest. It’s to reflect the people. And if the people want a parliament full of relatable, slightly underqualified overachievers, who are we to argue?
So where does that leave us?
Indonesia has drawn a soft, slightly smudged line by requiring its lawmakers to at least graduate high school. This sets it apart from many established democracies, where the only true prerequisites are age, citizenship, and the ability to remain conscious through a press conference.
But that bar, modest as it is, becomes fuzzy in practice. A high school diploma in Indonesia can range from rigorous academic effort to “just show up and try not to lose your shoes.” And once elected, many legislators seem to treat their five-year term as an opportunity for personal development. New degrees appear, new titles get printed, and sometimes, new institutions no one has ever heard of are suddenly very proud of their alumni.
Globally, this might seem regressive. But in another light, it’s radically democratic. No gatekeeping. No PhD fetishism. Just the people, choosing who represents them, however unconventional that choice may look on paper.
So should we demand more? Or should we celebrate a system that lets truly anyone step into power?
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