By: Gilarsi Wahju Setijono

When One City Bears the Nation's Burden

Try to imagine this for a moment: You are a doctor treating a patient named Indonesia. When you open the X-ray results, you are shocked to find that 70% of this patient's blood flows to only one organ—the head. The heart is still beating, but most of the body is pale and grayish due to lack of blood flow. This is precisely the condition of this nation: Jakarta has become a giant head that sucks almost all the lifeblood of the nation, while the other body parts—Sumatra, Kalimantan, Sulawesi, Papua—are left to languish in a state of chronic anemia.

It's a heartbreaking irony. The world's largest archipelagic nation, with 17,508 islands and 1.9 million square kilometers of land, depends on a small patch of land spanning 664 square kilometers—less than 0.03% of the total national territory. It's like squeezing coconut milk from a single coconut to feed an entire village.

Centralized Economy: One City Becomes the Nation's Stomach

Jakarta as the Giant Stomach

Jakarta is not just the capital. It has evolved into a giant stomach that digests almost a quarter of the national wealth. With a 17.2% contribution to the national Gross Domestic Product—not including the buffer zones of Bogor, Depok, Tangerang, and Bekasi—Jakarta has become an irreplaceable economic engine. Imagine: one city generates wealth equivalent to the combined output of 15 other provinces.

This phenomenon is not merely a natural concentration. It is the result of an economic design that—whether intentional or not—created an extraordinary gravitational pull towards a single point. Like a black hole sucking in all matter around it, Jakarta attracts investment, talent, and business opportunities with almost irresistible force.

The headquarters of 89 out of the 100 largest Indonesian companies are located in Jakarta. Giant banks centralize their operations here. The capital market, insurance companies, and other financial institutions seemingly cannot exist without Jakarta's air. As a result, economic decisions affecting the fate of hundreds of millions of Indonesians are made within a 20-kilometer radius of Monas.

Suffocating Magnetism

Jakarta's appeal to young talent is truly extraordinary. Every year, hundreds of thousands of the best graduates from all over the archipelago flock to Jakarta like bees drawn to honey. They come with big dreams and empty pockets, hoping to find opportunities unavailable in their hometowns.

Ironically, this mass migration actually strengthens Jakarta's position while draining their regions of origin of their best human resources. It's like an internal brain drain system, where regions become factories churning out graduates to supply Jakarta. South Sulawesi produces the best doctors for Jakarta's hospitals. East Java yields reliable engineers for technology companies in South Jakarta. West Sumatra prints smart economists for financial institutions in Sudirman.

This phenomenon is reminiscent of the Minang proverb: "In the diaspora, seek fame; in the village, seek a bowl." The difference now is that many seek fame in the diaspora but forget the bowl in their village—never even returning to fill it.

All Roads Lead to Jakarta

Unbalanced Infrastructure

If you look at a map of Indonesia's toll road network, you'll find a striking pattern: almost all roads lead to Jakarta. Like a giant spiderweb with Jakarta at its center, the nation's infrastructure is designed to facilitate access to the capital, not to connect regions with each other.

Tanjung Priok Port handles almost 60% of national loading and unloading activities. Soekarno-Hatta Airport serves more than half of domestic airline passengers. Even to send goods from Medan to Makassar, the fastest route is often via Jakarta—as if all roads in this country are footpaths that lead to one well.

As a result, Indonesia's logistics costs are among the highest in Southeast Asia. Sending a container from Surabaya to Makassar can be more expensive than sending the same container from Surabaya to Singapore. It's like the old sarcastic remark: "It's easier to send mangoes from Thailand than from Indramayu."

Port as a Single Funnel

The dominance of Tanjung Priok Port in the national logistics system is like trying to drink water through a small straw when you're very thirsty. This port, built during the colonial era, now has to handle cargo volumes far exceeding its ideal capacity. The results: ship queues, high berthing costs, and unreasonable dwell times.

Compare this to China, which has developed a distributed port system: Shanghai, Shenzhen, Qingdao, Tianjin, and Dalian. Each serves as a regional gateway for specific economic zones. Or Japan, with its integrated port system between Tokyo, Osaka, and Kobe that complement each other.

Meanwhile, we are still grappling with the philosophy of "all to Jakarta, all through Jakarta." As if a country the size of the European continent only has one gateway.

All Decisions Born in One Place

Centralized Bureaucracy

Indonesia's administrative centralization has reached an almost absurd level. Want to process a business permit in Jayapura? You have to go to Jakarta. Want to submit a research proposal from Hasanuddin University? You have to go to Jakarta. Even to get a drug-free certificate to apply for a job in Bali, you often have to wait for approval from Jakarta.

Our bureaucratic system is like a giant banyan tree with all its roots leading to one point. It's no wonder that decision-making becomes slow, inefficient, and often not in line with regional needs. Officials in Jakarta who have never felt the heat of Makassar or the cold of Dieng have to decide policies for regions they have never visited.

Reforms and decentralization rolled out since 1998 did grant greater authority to regions. However, strategic keys are still tightly held by the center. It's like giving someone a vehicle but still holding the ignition key and the steering wheel.

The Jakarta Pilgrimage Ritual

There's a unique phenomenon in Indonesian bureaucracy that can be called "the Jakarta pilgrimage ritual." Whenever there's an important program, a large budget, or a strategic policy, regional officials must make a mandatory trip to Jakarta. Hotels around the Senayan and Menteng areas are always filled with entourages of governors, regents, and mayors who come for "coordination."

Coordination is actually a euphemism for seeking blessings, submitting proposals, or simply showing face so as not to be forgotten in budget allocations. It's like the ritual of regional nobles in the royal era who had to face the king in the palace.

This irony is even more apparent when we compare it to federal countries like the United States or Germany, where states have genuine autonomy. The Governor of California doesn't need permission from Washington D.C. to build infrastructure in their state. The Minister-President of Bavaria doesn't have to consult Berlin for every regional economic policy.

When Jakarta Becomes Indonesia

Excessive Representation

Jakarta has become more than just the capital—it has become the representation of Indonesia in the eyes of the world. International media wanting to cover Indonesia almost always take a Jakarta angle. Economists analyzing Indonesia's economic condition almost certainly use Jakarta data as the main indicator. Foreign investors who want to understand Indonesia almost always start from Jakarta.

As a result, Jakarta seems to be a miniature Indonesia forced to represent the diversity and complexity of this archipelagic nation. Yet Jakarta, with its Betawi culture, traffic problems, and urban dynamics, is very different from religiously vibrant Banda Aceh, philosophical Yogyakarta, or multiethnic Jayapura.

It's like the old sarcastic remark: if aliens came to Indonesia and only visited Jakarta, they would conclude that Indonesian humans live in traffic jams, shop at malls, and communicate with honks.

Reduced Identity

Jakarta's symbolic dominance has reduced the rich identity of Indonesia to metropolitan stereotypes. Batik sold in Jakarta becomes the representation of traditional Indonesian art, even though every region has different motifs and philosophies. Rendang served in Jakarta restaurants becomes a symbol of Indonesian culinary art, even though every ethnic group has distinct flavors that are not represented.

This phenomenon creates what we might call "Jakarta-centrism"—the tendency to view Indonesia through Jakarta's lens. National media headquartered in Jakarta cover regional news with a Jakarta perspective. National television programs feature regional cultures that have been "Jakarta-fied." Even in general elections, Jakarta issues often dominate national debates.

As a result, Jakarta becomes a kind of "Indonesia in a package"—an edited, simplified, and packaged version for mass consumption. Like Padang rice sold in a food court: still called Padang, but the taste has been adjusted to Jakarta's palate.

Ecological Pressure

Uncontrolled Environmental Burden

Jakarta is now like a tree forced to bear 10 times its normal capacity. The land in Jakarta sinks 10-20 centimeters annually—the fastest in the world—because it is forced to bear giant buildings and excessive groundwater extraction.

Imagine: a city built on soft ground with 13 rivers flowing through it, now having to support 10 million people plus millions of daily commuters. It's like forcing a small boat to carry the cargo of a cargo ship. The result is predictable: the boat slowly sinks.

The routine flooding that hits Jakarta every rainy season is not just a technical problem, but a cry from nature overwhelmed. Water channels designed for a city with a population of 2-3 million people now have to drain water from a city of 10 million. It's like forcing a garden hose to flow water from a fire hydrant.

Pollution Beyond Limits

Jakarta's air has become a toxic cocktail threatening the health of millions of its inhabitants. Jakarta's air quality index is often in the "dangerous" zone—equivalent to smoking 10 cigarettes every day just by breathing. Ironically, this pollution largely comes from the congestion created by the excessive concentration of economic activity in one city.

It's like an unbroken domino effect: economic concentration creates population concentration, which creates vehicle concentration, which creates traffic jams, which creates pollution, which creates public health problems. And the solution offered? Adding new toll roads that will attract more vehicles. It's like treating obesity by increasing food portions.

Social Pressure

Uncontrolled Gentrification

Jakarta's rapid economic growth has created a wave of gentrification that sweeps away indigenous communities. Villages that were once home to Betawi communities are now being transformed into luxury apartment complexes. It's like a giant Monopoly game where players with large capital systematically drive smaller players off the board.

This process is not merely geographical displacement but the destruction of social networks and cultural identity. Families who have lived for generations in Kemang or Kebayoran have to move to the outskirts because they cannot afford the soaring property taxes. Small traders who have been selling for decades in the Sudirman area have to close shop because they cannot afford the rent that has increased many times over.

It's like the bitter saying: "Jakarta for all, but not all for Jakarta."

Hardening Economic Segregation

Jakarta has become a city with extreme social inequality. On one side, luxury malls with world-renowned brands. On the other, deplorable slums with concerning sanitation. The distance between these two worlds is only a few kilometers, but economically they are like separate continents.

This "two-world Jakarta" phenomenon creates segregation that is not only geographical but also psychological. Children from wealthy Jakarta families attend international schools with university-level facilities, while children from poor families attend buildings that are almost collapsing. They live in the same city but in different worlds.

It's like the Betawi proverb: "Far from the eyes, far from the heart too." What's happening in Jakarta is the extreme version: close to the eyes, but still far from the heart.

Single Point of Failure

Concept of Systemic Risk

In the world of information technology, the term single point of failure refers to a system component that, if it fails, will cause the entire system to collapse. Jakarta has become a single point of failure for Indonesia's economy. If Jakarta "jams," the national economy jams too. If Jakarta floods, national goods distribution is disrupted. If Jakarta locks down, national economic activity is paralyzed.

The COVID-19 pandemic provided a real illustration of the dangers of this excessive concentration. When Jakarta was placed under large-scale social restrictions (PSBB), almost all national economic activity was disrupted. Companies with headquarters in Jakarta could not make decisions for regional operations. Central banks headquartered in Jakarta could not serve customers throughout Indonesia. It's like a body paralyzed because its brain suffered a stroke.

Vulnerability to Disasters

Jakarta is in a high-risk zone for various natural disasters: earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, and land subsidence. If a major disaster strikes Jakarta, the impact will not only be local but national. Imagine if a 7-magnitude earthquake shook Jakarta—not only thousands of lives would be lost, but the national economic system would collapse.

Developed countries have learned from these bitter experiences. Japan, which experienced major earthquakes in Kobe (1995) and the tsunami in Tohoku (2011), now has backup systems for all vital functions. The United States has dispersed its economic centers to various states. China consciously develops multiple growth centers to reduce dependence on one city.

Meanwhile, Indonesia still puts all its eggs in one basket called Jakarta.

Frightening Domino Effect

Excessive dependence on Jakarta has created a frightening domino effect. If Jakarta's banking system is disrupted, SMEs in Flores cannot get credit. If Tanjung Priok Port goes on strike, farmers in Sumatra cannot export coffee. If Jakarta's telecommunications system goes down, call centers in Bandung cannot serve customers.

It's like a giant house of cards: if one card at the bottom is disturbed, the entire structure can collapse. Jakarta has become that bottom card—too important to fail, but too vulnerable to be relied upon entirely.

Dismantling the Illusion of Efficiency

The Myth of Economies of Scale

One of the most frequently used arguments to justify excessive concentration in Jakarta is "economies of scale." Allegedly, centralizing all activities in one place will create efficiency because the per-unit infrastructure costs become cheaper.

This argument might be valid for a city with a population of 2-3 million people. But Jakarta has now surpassed that optimal point. Traffic jams that consume 3-4 hours of daily travel, skyrocketing rental costs, and pollution that threatens health—all these are negative externalities not accounted for in simple economies of scale calculations.

It's like a medicine that, in the right dose, can cure, but in excessive doses, becomes a poison. Jakarta has overdosed on economic concentration.

Comparing with Distributed Models

Compare this to Germany, which consciously developed a distributed economic model. Munich is a technology and financial hub. Hamburg is a logistics and trade hub. Frankfurt is an international financial center. Berlin is the center of government and culture. Cologne is a media and communication hub.

The result? Germany has high economic resilience, evenly distributed quality of life, and no single city experiences problems like Jakarta. Even when Frankfurt—the financial center of Europe—was hit by the 2008 financial crisis, the German economy did not collapse because there were multiple engines supporting it.

Or look at the United States: New York for finance, Silicon Valley for technology, Detroit for automotive, Houston for energy, Hollywood for entertainment. Diversity is resilience.

Disturbing Questions

When night falls and Jakarta's hustle and bustle subsides, this question continues to linger: how much longer can Jakarta bear the burden of being "Indonesia in one city"? How much longer can infrastructure designed for 3 million people serve 10 million people plus millions of commuters?

Even more disturbing: are we too late to change? Has this excessive concentration become a lock-in effect that is difficult to break free from? Or is there still hope to create an Indonesia that does not depend on Jakarta?

It's like the Javanese proverb: "Ojo dumeh, ojo gumunan, ojo kagetan." Don't be arrogant, don't be easily amazed, don't be easily surprised. But in the context of Jakarta today, perhaps we need to add: "Ojo ngeyel"—don't be stubborn. It's time to admit that the "Jakarta is everything" model has reached its tolerance limit.

If not, we will continue to live in a paradox: the world's largest archipelagic nation whose economy depends on one island, even one city. Like a giant with feet of clay—looks big and magnificent, but fragile and easily collapses.

The question is no longer "is Jakarta too dominant?" The answer is clear: yes. The real question is: "can we change it before it's too late?"