The Hope Factory: Indonesia’s Education Sector and Its Favourite Word
Indonesia: a country where your Grab driver has a bachelor’s degree and your cousin’s side hustle involves reselling Korean face masks on TikTok. It’s a place bursting with spirit, sunshine, 17,000 islands of untapped “potential.” But if there's one thing more abundant than fried tofu and confusing bureaucracy, it's hope. Particularly in the education sector, where "Harapan" is practically a prerequisite for accreditation.
The naming convention is clear: if your school doesn’t contain the word hope, future, or global excellence, are you even trying?
Sekolah Harapan Bangsa, Harapan Anak Sholeh, Hope Academy of Bright Futures International
…all selling the same vague promise: “we may not know what we’re doing, but we believe in your child’s potential.”
But behind the branding lies a very different reality: crumbling facilities, overworked teachers, and computer labs that haven’t had Wi-Fi since Jokowi’s first term. The hope is often a spiritual sticker slapped over structural issues.
So, we ask again: are these institutions forging leaders of tomorrow, or just slinging aspirational content with the finesse of a pyramid scheme? Hope sells. Results, as always, sold separately.
Harapan High: Where Dreams Go to Die Quietly Behind the Canteen
There’s a particular charm in naming your school after hope. Forget facilities, curriculum, or teacher qualifications, what really matters is whether your school name can distract parents from asking too many questions.
Enter the "Harapan" industrial complex, where optimism is printed in bold on gates that haven’t been repainted since the SBY era. We’re talking:
Harapan Baru (New Hope)
Harapan Utama (Main Hope)
Harapan Bangsa (Hope of the Nation)
…and of course, the totally plausible-sounding
Harapan Sedang Dicicil (Hope, Currently Being Paid in Installments).
At this point, you half expect to find Harapan Pending and Harapan Coba-Coba opening next semester.
It’s not that these schools don’t mean well. They do. Somewhere there is a genuine desire to give kids a better future. But that future is often trapped in a dusty classroom, taught by an exhausted teacher who also doubles as the admin, janitor, and unofficial therapist.
The real problem is that hope has become the product, not the outcome. You’ll see brochures filled with smiling children using laptops (borrowed for the photo shoot), mission statements about “shaping global citizens,” and trilingual slogans for schools that can barely manage Bahasa Indonesia.
Meanwhile, just behind the canteen, the dreams slowly curl up next to the rusting sports equipment and faded “Character Building Week” posters. Because while these institutions promise the stars, most are struggling to keep the lights on.
Welcome to the Republic of Potential™
Hope is just the entry-level package. In Indonesia, we're running a full-scale subscription to Potential™. It’s the national slogan, the spiritual currency, the all-purpose excuse. While other countries measure progress in terms of outcomes, Indonesia prefers to measure vibes.
The word “potential” is everywhere. Infrastructure billboards proudly display projects that began during the last president’s first term and are now expected to be completed by the time your toddler has grandkids. Political campaigns don’t need policy details, just a few bold words like “Indonesia Emas 2045” and some drone shots of a rice field. Boom. Instant vision.
Startups are in on it too. You’ll find websites for apps that deliver fried tofu calling themselves “Future-focused impact platforms.” The language is clean, corporate, and bursting with verbs like “empower”, “catalyze”, and “unlock”.
And the beauty of potential? You can’t be wrong about it. No KPIs. No deadlines. It’s like betting on a horse that’s still in the womb. All you need is a horizon to point at and a sentence that starts with, “Indonesia has the potential to become...”
This obsession explains a lot about the education sector too. Schools are outlets of national branding. “Harapan” schools are less about teaching kids math and more about reinforcing the idea that everything is on its way. Slowly. Eventually. Hopefully.
It’s all very comforting, in the way that being told “You’ve got potential” is comforting after failing three job interviews. You’re not failing. You’re emerging. You’re developing. You’re part of the giant, sleeping narrative that will awaken... right after the next election cycle.
Hope: Now Available in Convenient Tuition Packages
In modern Indonesia, hope is a product. And in the education sector, it’s the hottest item on the shelf, attractively packaged, priced just out of reach, and available in 12-month installment plans with 0% interest and 100% delusion.
Welcome to the era of Harapan™ as a business model. These schools are aspirational lifestyle brands for the middle class. They sell not just English classes and computer labs, but a narrative: that if you pay enough, your child might just leapfrog the socioeconomic ladder and land safely in a multinational boardroom.
The schools come with faux-Ivy League uniforms, a Latin motto nobody understands, and enough inspirational wall decals to make a Pinterest board weep. Tuition fees cover “global exposure” (watching a video of the Eiffel Tower), “English immersion” (one teacher saying “Good morning class!”), and the famed “international curriculum,” which often consists of someone printing out worksheets labeled "Cambridge."
And don’t forget the leadership camps; a rite of passage where kids spend three days in a muddy field doing trust falls and listening to Coach Roy, a former MLM agent turned “motivation architect,” tell them to “dream big, work hard, be bold, and also follow me on TikTok.”
The emotional appeal is irresistible. What loving parent wouldn’t want their child to attend Hope International Future Global Excel Bright Academy?
Just don’t ask for learning outcomes. That’s not part of the package. What you’ve really bought is the aesthetic of success, and the faint whiff of upward mobility.
Cross Your Fingers, Pray, and Pivot to a TikTok Side Hustle
So, what exactly happens after one graduates from Sekolah Harapan Sejati, with a certificate in "21st Century Skills" and an Instagrammable photo in a gown that cost more than the school’s annual IT budget? Do they become global leaders? Tech disruptors? Thought leaders on LinkedIn?
More often, they become ojol drivers with good grammar, TikTok creators explaining how to tie a tie, or LinkedIn philosophers, adding "Aspiring Entrepreneur | Future CEO | Passionate About Impact" to their bio in lieu of actual employment.
The truth is less glossy than the school brochure. Indonesia’s youth face a job market that's packed, and unmoving. Unemployment is high. Underemployment is higher. And the disconnect between what schools teach and what employers need is wide enough to build another toll road no one will finish.
So what do graduates do? They improvise. They hustle. They freelance, sell thrifted clothes online, edit TikToks for influencers with ring lights, or launch “brands” that consist of a Canva logo and two posts. Others, more strategic, begin WhatsApping their cousin in Perth with the subtle opener: “Hey, long time, how are you? :)”
The system didn’t fail them, exactly, it never really promised anything in the first place. Just hope. Hope that somehow, somewhere, someone would connect the dots between a diploma and a paycheck. Until then, it’s cross your fingers, update your bio, and keep those dreams on low heat.
Hope isn’t the enemy. It’s nice. Uplifting. The emotional equivalent of a warm cup of teh manis. But somewhere along the way, it’s become a placeholder for actual effort.
Indonesia doesn’t need to stop hoping. It just needs to stop outsourcing progress to hope alone. Enough with the motivational posters masquerading as mission statements. Enough with schools that teach “21st-century skills” but still use whiteboards older than the vice principal. How about we try a wild, groundbreaking concept: outcomes. Skills that lead to jobs. Education that results in competence. Institutions that prepare students for life, not just for Instagram graduation photos.
Because your average citizen isn’t thinking about “Indonesia Emas 2045.” They’re thinking, “Can I pay rent?” and “Why is my kid learning Excel from someone who doesn’t know how to use Excel?”
So let’s retire the word “Harapan” until we’ve earned it back. Let’s build Sekolah Beneran, not Sekolah Brosur. The future doesn’t need more branding. It needs planning. Less glossy ambition, more boring, difficult, grown-up execution.
Hope is great. But action is overdue.