SMK: The School Everyone Needs, But Nobody Wants Their Kid In
Indonesia depends on vocational workers, yet treats them like second-class citizens. Here's why that's a massive economic mistake.
Arrive in Jakarta, and you’d be forgiven for thinking the national economy is powered entirely by slide decks and coworking spaces. Spend five minutes on LinkedIn and you’ll think every young professional is either a founder, a consultant, or “building something in tech.”
But that illusion fades the moment your motorbike breaks down or the electricity cuts out. Suddenly, the startup sheen doesn’t help you. You need someone who can actually do something. Someone with tools. With training. With real-world skills. And that’s when the truth hits: Indonesia is built, quite literally, by vocational workers.
Despite this, vocational education remains strangely underappreciated. SMK graduates are often viewed as second-tier. Skills training gets mentioned in policy documents, then quietly forgotten in budgets. The national conversation prefers to spotlight app launches over skilled labor.
It’s not that we don’t value productivity. We just prefer it with a lanyard and a MacBook. But the real economy depends on people who can wire a house, fix a generator, or brew 300 cups a day without a mood board.
And still, we ask: why is vocational education struggling for respect? Maybe the better question is: how long can we afford to keep ignoring it?
Vokasi: The Engine of the Economy That Nobody Brags About
Indonesia has a status problem. We’ve spent decades equating success with suits, titles, and cubicles, while quietly pretending the country doesn’t need anyone to actually build or fix anything.
Say the word “SMK” in a middle-class living room and you’ll feel the temperature drop. Parents flinch. Aunties offer unsolicited suggestions. There’s an unspoken hierarchy, and vocational education has somehow landed near the bottom.
Mention “tukang,” and the conversation moves on quickly. Meanwhile, someone’s cousin who writes social media captions for a milk tea brand is hailed as an example of the modern economy.
But Indonesia is, at its core, a vocational economy.
Nearly 20 percent of GDP comes from manufacturing.
Construction adds another 10.
MSMEs employ the vast majority of the workforce, and most of those roles require practical, hands-on skill, not a minor in branding strategy.
The country runs on trained doers. People who can operate heavy machinery, wire a building, or manage a busy kitchen. And yet, the national narrative remains oddly allergic to celebrating them.
We’ve built an entire economy on skills we barely acknowledge. It’s not just disrespectful. It’s counterproductive.
It’s time we stop treating vokasi like a backup plan and start recognizing it for what it actually is: the plan that’s been working all along.
We Trained a Nation of Skilled Workers, Then Forgot to Respect Them
It’s one thing to overlook vocational education. It’s another to build an entire national system around it, and then act like it doesn’t matter.
Indonesia operates one of the largest vocational education ecosystems on the planet. Over five million students are enrolled in SMKs. That’s a deliberate investment in hands-on, practical talent; the people who can fix machines, manage supply chains, care for patients, and make the wheels turn in everyday life.
And yet, we train them, then hang them out to dry.
SMK graduates consistently post the highest unemployment rate of any educational track. That number may have improved slightly in recent years, but 8 percent is still too high for a system that promises “job-ready” skills.
Wages tell a similar story. SMK grads earn roughly the same as general high school leavers, despite years of technical training. And many don’t receive nationally recognized certifications, which means they can’t easily prove what they’ve learned, or move across sectors with confidence.
So what exactly are we rewarding here?
When a skilled welder earns the same as someone who barely passed their final exams, the message is clear: your skills don’t matter.
Of course, there are bright spots. Programs like SMK-PK and Link & Match are showing real promise. But they’re the exception.
The reality for most vocational students is still a patchy system. Uneven funding. Variable quality. Limited progression.
It’s no surprise that families treat SMK as a risk. We’ve made it one. Not through intention, but through neglect.
And then we wonder why no one wants to enroll.
White Collar Fantasy vs. Blue Collar Reality
Over the last decade, Indonesian education policy has been heavily tilted toward creating a digital-first workforce. The language is filled with terms like “future-ready,” “digital talent pipeline,” and “innovation hubs.” The goal? Equip youth for the world of startups, fintech, and app development.
It’s a nice vision. It photographs well.
But only a small fraction of Indonesians actually work in the digital economy. And fewer still build it. Most young workers aren’t in co-working spaces; they’re in kitchens, workshops, warehouses, clinics, construction sites, or behind handlebars delivering your iced coffee.
That’s where the real demand is. And it's growing. Electricians, welders, machinists, plumbers, caregivers, kitchen staff, mechanics. These aren’t legacy jobs. They are growth jobs. They’re critical to everything from urban expansion to manufacturing competitiveness. Yet vocational graduates filling these roles are treated like they drew the short straw.
They aren’t paid like essential workers. They’re paid like afterthoughts.
And then the truly surreal part: the exact same skills that Indonesia undervalues at home? In high demand abroad. The Indonesian welder working for minimum wage here could triple their income in Australia or Japan. Not because they changed. But because the system around them did.
Indonesia doesn’t lack talent. It doesn’t lack training institutions. It doesn’t lack demand. What it lacks is respect. Respect in policy, in pay, and in public narrative.
Until that shifts, we’ll keep telling young people to chase digital dreams while quietly depending on the very workers we ignore.
And eventually, when no one’s left to install the pipes, repair the motors, or wire the grid, we’ll realize: the fantasy doesn't power the lights. Skilled labor does.
We Could Build an Economy Around Skills If We Actually Wanted To
What if Indonesia stopped treating vocational education like a side quest and made it the main story?
It’s not that we don’t know what to do. The blueprint exists. A proper system would offer every SMK student paid apprenticeships linked to actual industry needs, not imaginary ones dreamt up in isolation. It would mandate that employers sit down with schools and co-design what’s taught, so we don’t end up training students for jobs that no longer exist.
Every graduate would leave with a recognized, portable certification that employers can trust, and students can use anywhere. Wages, job placement rates, and promotion timelines would be published by school, so families could choose based on facts.
And most importantly, students could climb. SMK would not be a dead-end, but a springboard. SMK to D2. D2 to D4. Credentials that stack. Income that grows.
Right now, we pretend to celebrate vocational success stories, but we mostly bury them behind startup drama and influencer content. If we truly respected skills, we’d showcase those who build, wire, weld, serve, and fix as national champions. A kid with a wrench deserves the same screen time as someone with a pitch deck.
Other countries already do this. Parts of Indonesia do too. The only thing missing is national commitment from policy, from industry, from media.
We don’t need more degrees that lead nowhere. We need skilled workers who know where they’re going, and a country that clears the path.
If Indonesia is serious about inclusive growth, stable employment, and a resilient economy, then it’s time to stop overlooking the very workers who keep the country functioning. It’s not enough to mention skills development in policy speeches or throw vocational education into the appendix of a strategic plan.
This requires real commitment. That means
Investing in training, not just talking about it.
Publishing honest data on wages and employment, not hiding behind infographics.
Closing the gap between what we say we value and what we actually fund, promote, and reward.
More importantly, it means telling the right stories.
The technician who runs his own business.
The SMK graduate whose certification took her to Japan.
The factory operator who earns more than his cousin with a degree and a desk job.
These aren’t side stories. They are the real Indonesia.
Vocational education has never been the problem. The problem is how we’ve framed it: as a last resort instead of a first step. But that can change.
So let’s ask it again: Where is the love for vocational Indonesia?
At StratEx - Indonesia Business Advisory we help companies design skills-based hiring frameworks that work for Indonesia. Contact us to tap into overlooked talent pools and build workforce strategies that reflect Indonesia’s real economy.