Keeping It in the Family: A Satirical Take on Javanese Leadership and Nepotism

Daftar Isi

Introduction: A Family Affair in the Kingdom

19th-century depiction of Javanese court officials. Power in the Javanese kingdom was often a family affair, with aristocratic relatives filling the ranks of the bureaucracy.
Imagine a royal court in old Java, where the king’s inner circle looks suspiciously like a family reunion. The prime minister? His brother. The finance minister? A trusted cousin, of course. The general of the army? Why, the king’s brother-in-law earned that role! If this sounds like a satire, it’s remarkably close to historical reality. In Javanese political tradition, leadership has long been a family affair, and anyone outside the bloodline might as well be outside the palace gate. This article takes a subtly satirical and intellectual look at why, in Javanese circles, it often seems “susah memimpin jika tidak satu keluarga” – difficult to lead unless you’re one family. We’ll journey from the gilded courts of Javanese kings to the halls of modern Indonesian power, all the while smirking at how nepotism – the fancy term for “keeping it in the family” – has become a way of life in leadership. Along the way, we’ll see how this time-honored family-first approach, however well-intended or culturally ingrained, might be holding Indonesia back from its full potential.

But first, a disclaimer: nepotism is hardly unique to Java – kings and queens worldwide have placed bets on their blue-blooded kin. What makes the Javanese case intriguing (and ripe for satire) is how deeply kinship and power intertwine, wrapped in ancient proverbs, court intrigues, and a modern political landscape that at times resembles one big extended family meeting. So, buckle up for a playful yet informative ride. We’ll mix historical insight with ironic commentary – think of it as a Javanese wayang (shadow-puppet) play, where clowns and wise men speak truth to kings through humor[1]. Our intended audience spans curious general readers, members of the Indonesian diaspora, and political satire enthusiasts – essentially anyone who appreciates a subtle, ironic critique that avoids cheap shots at any ethnic group or living politician. In true Javanese style, we will be subtle but sharp, much like the legendary punakawan clowns (Semar, Gareng, Petruk, Bagong) who entertain and enlighten with equal measure[1]. Now, let’s pull back the palace curtains and see why ruling Java has often been a family business – and what that means for Indonesia at large.

Feudal Roots: When Power Meant Family Ties

To understand this phenomenon, we must begin in Java’s feudal past. In the age of Javanese kingdoms – think of the Sultanates of Mataram, Yogyakarta, Surakarta – power was not merely personal, it was familial. The king was the father (indeed, Javanese subjects often addressed their ruler as “Bapak” or father), and the realm was the family estate. Governing was done through an elaborate network of relatives and in-laws. Nepotism was practically a system of government. Historians note that nepotism – favoring relatives for positions – was an entrenched practice, considered normal and even necessary for stability[2][3]. Javanese chronicles (babad) and Malay hikayat tales often show that nearly all high officials were kin of the ruler[4]. It was governance by genealogy: if you drew a government organizational chart, it would double as the monarch’s family tree.

Why this obsession with keeping leadership “all in the family”? Part of it is cultural. In Javanese society, loyalty and trust traditionally begin at home. A saying widely adhered to in those times was “ngumpulaké balung pisah,” meaning “collecting the scattered bones” – an idiom for reuniting and consolidating one’s kin[5]. The idea was that relatives must stick together, especially against outside threats. The king, as the patriarch, sought to unite all his relatives under his power, bringing even distant family members into the fold of court. If a cousin or nephew was out governing a province, that was better than a stranger doing it. Blood was thicker than water, and certainly thicker than any legal contract. Bringing family into office wasn’t seen as corruption; it was seen as common sense – a way to ensure loyalty in an era rife with palace intrigues and rebellion. Outsiders were potential enemies, or at least “lower people” not to be trusted with the kingdom’s fortunes[5]. Insiders (family) were bound by blood and interest to be loyal. Thus, assembling one’s kin in positions of power was a survival strategy for the dynasty.

We can chuckle at the image of a King of Java handing out titles at the dinner table (“Uncle, you be the district regent; dear brother, how about Commander of the Royal Guard?”). However, this scenario is surprisingly accurate. Generally, a person appointed to a high position would turn around and employ his relatives in that office as well[2]. It was expected that when you rose, you lifted your extended family with you – a noble act of charity, perhaps, except when public offices turn into family heirlooms. Socially, taking care of one’s family is a primary virtue in Javanese culture, and the line between caring for family and nepotism can be blurry[2]. From the viewpoint of a royal court, favoring kin ensured unity at the top. The nuclear family formed a strong defensive cluster, and then the extended family could also benefit as a loyal support base[6]. In short, the realm was an “inner group” of kin versus the “outer” world[6].

This feudal logic gave rise to some creative methods of enlarging the ruling family. One was political marriage. If a talented outsider must be brought in, best to turn him into kin. Javanese kings famously practiced what one scholar calls the triman strategy: giving a royal woman in marriage to an influential bureaucrat or regional leader[7]. By marrying his daughter or sister to, say, a powerful governor, the king effectively converted that governor into a son-in-law – i.e. family. This in-law nepotism bound regional elites to the throne with family loyalty. It was a shrewd way to neutralize potential rivals: don’t fight them, marry them! As described by historian Soemarsaid Moertono, through such arranged marriages the king “made a close relationship with the central bureaucracy,” ensuring peace and order[7]. In other words, why worry about a rebel when you can call him uncle? The more cynical aspect of this practice was that it also helped maintain the circulation of wealth and power among those of “pure” bloodline. The chronicles suggest an almost obsessive concern with preserving the “purity of the family” – limiting high positions to those of the correct lineage, ethnicity, and regional origin[8][9]. By restricting top roles to relatives, the old elite maintained exclusivity over resources and status. They didn’t want their riches “divided with lower people,” as the chronicles bluntly put it[5]. Power was a family jewel, to be safeguarded from dilution.

Of course, this feudal nepotism had its downsides – even in the eyes of contemporaries. Javanese history is full of palace intrigues, many of them family feuds. When relatives hold power, a succession dispute escalates into a civil war. (No one can fight like brothers who both want the throne!) The epic Javanese shadow-puppet tales based on the Mahabharata capture this perfectly: the kingdom of Hastinapura collapses into the Bharatayudha war precisely because a blind king favored his own sons over his nephews – a case of mythic nepotism that led to mutual destruction. In the Javanese retelling, the Kaurava cousins (100 brothers) are pitted against their five Pandava cousins in a catastrophic family feud[1]. It’s an eerily apt allegory: when leadership is all about bloodlines, blood might be shed. Even the mightiest Javanese kingdoms sometimes fell apart under the weight of family intrigue and nepotism. One might say that by uniting all power in one family, the kings made the realm strong – until that family itself fractured. The royal family’s internal rivalries often became the kingdom’s crises.

Still, the tradition persisted for centuries. The Dutch colonial rulers who took over Java in the 19th century found a deeply feudal society where officialdom was hereditary or kin-based, and they often co-opted this system. Many local bupati (regents) under Dutch rule were from the Javanese priyayi aristocracy – essentially the same families that had ruled before, now repurposed as colonial administrators[10][11]. This continuity reinforced nepotism as a social norm. By Independence in the 20th century, the new Indonesian republic inherited not only infrastructure and bureaucracy from the Dutch, but also the ingrained habits of patronage and family networks in governance[12][13]. As one cultural historian put it, the “feudal heritage” of Java never quite died; it merely found new costumes[14][15]. Many of the republic’s leaders were Javanese and, consciously or not, their leadership style showed a “marked consonance with the traditional Javanese concept of power”[16] – which often meant paternalism and familial patronage.

So, from the ancient palaces to the young republic, the family-centric mode of leadership persisted. We can satirically imagine a Javanese CEO in the 1950s telling his board, “In this company, we follow the wisdom of our ancestors: keep it all in the family.” Except it wouldn’t be a joke – it would be business as usual. The practice of nepotism was so prevalent in Indonesia that by the late 20th century it earned its acronym of infamy: KKN (Korupsi, Kolusi, dan Nepotisme – Corruption, Collusion, and Nepotism). And that brings us, inevitably, to how this feudal family mindset collided with the ideals of a modern nation-state.

The Family State: From Monarchy to Modern Satire

Fast forward to independent Indonesia. The republic was founded on lofty principles of democracy and social justice, but old habits die hard. Many early leaders were themselves of Javanese aristocratic stock and brought along a paternalistic, kin-centered approach. The most notorious example – and here we must tread carefully, since we’re avoiding direct political name-calling – was the New Order regime that ruled for 32 years in the late 20th century. Under this regime (led by a certain Bapak who shall remain nameless), nepotism reached baroque heights. Indonesians bitterly joked that the country was run less like a republic and more like a family corporation, with the presidential family (and their in-laws, cousins, and cronies) controlling vast swathes of the economy. Indeed, by the 1990s, the public had grown furious seeing satu keluarga – one family – treat the state as their personal ATM [17][18]. One child secured a monopoly on a key commodity, another landed a plum contract and a TV station, while yet another gained control of a national oil enterprise[17]. These privileges were “mandated by the state – which was the father himself”[19]. In a darkly satirical twist, the nation’s wealth was being managed at the family dinner table, and – surprise! – it didn’t work well. Public resources turned into private piggy banks[20]. As an observer wrote, all the institutions and licenses that fell into those privileged hands became “money machines” for the family. At the same time, ordinary people watched their forests vanish and their livelihoods suffer[20].

The backlash came in 1998, when Reformasi (the reform movement) burst forth. One of the rallying cries was an end to KKN, especially the nepotism that had so angered the populace[17]. It’s telling that the very word “nepotism” (borrowed into Indonesian) became a household term during this period – a label for the rot people had endured. The satirical idiom “nepotisme atau sayang keluarga?” started floating around – “is it nepotism, or just loving your family?”[21]. This phrase captures an ironic ambivalence: where does one draw the line between healthy family loyalty and destructive favoritism? In Indonesian culture, caring for family is paramount; it’s a virtue taught from a young age. So, many leaders caught appointing their relatives would defend themselves slyly: I’m not corrupt, I’m just being a good family man! The public, of course, wasn’t buying that excuse. By the end of the 90s, nepotism was widely recognized as a cause of Indonesia’s woes – from economic crisis to stifled political freedom[22][13]. The old Javanese feudal habit had metastasized into a national illness.

And yet – here’s the subtle twist – nepotism survived Reformasi. The authoritarian patriarch may have fallen, but dozens of mini-patriarchs (and matriarchs) rose in his wake. Indonesia embraced democracy in form: free elections, new parties, term limits. But the practice of political dynasties simply shifted shape and continued. Satirically speaking, the country traded one big family for many smaller ones. Today, it’s an open secret that Indonesia’s regions are dotted with “warlords” and local dynasties – families that dominate local politics across generations. A recent survey by the Ministry of Home Affairs identified no fewer than 171 regions (cities or districts) that have become political family fiefdoms[23]. That’s 171 little “kingdoms” where a mayor or governor simply passes the throne (oops, I mean the elected office) to his wife, son, daughter, or son-in-law. If this were a TV show, it would be Game of Thrones – Java edition, but instead of armies and dragons, we have election rallies and billboards featuring smiling family members. Indeed, after Reformasi, Indonesians started using a gentler term “dinasti politik” (political dynasty) to describe this trend[24]. Critics note that calling it “dynasty” rather than “nepotism” somewhat softens the stigma[24] – it sounds like a grand historical inevitability rather than a grubby act of favoritism. But as one Indonesian commentator wryly observed, switching terms hasn’t made the reality any less troubling[24]. It’s still a case of families entrenching themselves in power, only now through the ballot box rather than royal decree.

Culturally, why is nepotism proving so persistent? Part of the answer lies in Javanese (and broader Indonesian) social norms. The family is the fundamental unit of society – and not just the nuclear family, but the extended family, the clan. Indonesians grow up internalizing the importance of familial duty and loyalty. In Javanese ethos, a leader is often seen (and sees himself) as a benevolent father figure (bapak) to his people[25]. Government itself has been conceptualized in familial terms: under the New Order, for instance, the military’s socio-political outreach was called Keluarga Besar ABRI (“the Big Family of the Armed Forces”), and the ruling party network was Keluarga Besar Golkar (“the Big Family of Golkar”)[25]. Even political coalitions today sometimes brand themselves with the word kekeluargaan (familial) to signal unity and harmony[25]. All these idioms – “big family of this,” “family coalition of that” – reflect how Indonesians instinctively frame collective endeavors as familial. It’s no surprise, then, that when someone becomes a leader, they lean on family first. It feels natural. Nepotism, in this light, is just an exaggerated extension of normal social values. It’s as if the whole country’s political vocabulary is steeped in kinship terms, making nepotism seem like merely taking care of one’s own in a grand, if misguided, way[25].

Indeed, everyday folks often shrug at nepotism with a resigned joke: “Siapa lagi kalau bukan anak sendiri?” – “If not his own child, then who else?” We witness scenarios where, say, a party leader positions his daughter high on the candidate list, or a president quietly supports his son’s meteoric political rise. Many voters cynically accept it as the norm. In a dark comedic twist, those who don’t have powerful family connections sometimes lament their fate as if they missed the only train that matters. A writer for Deutsche Welle noted that Indonesians have become so accustomed to nepotism that ambitious people will preemptively surrender to it. “Orang-orang akan memupuskan impian mereka… kala di suatu instansi ada anggota keluarga figur sentral”, he writes – People will extinguish their dreams of rising high if in an institution there’s a family member of the central figure around[26]. An employee might think, “Why bother trying for that top job if the boss’s son is in the running? I must have boarded the wrong train in life.”[26] This fatalism shows how deeply nepotism is embedded as a structural given. It’s the “rule of the game” that everyone knows, like an open secret. Nobody even bothers to call it out in blunt terms anymore – the term nepotisme itself somewhat “evaporated” from public discourse after the early Reformasi fervor died down[27]. People started using the milder “dynasty” or just keeping silent, while quietly adjusting their expectations around the entrenched family networks[24][27].

Modern Dynasties: The Subtle Art of Keeping It in the Family

Let’s cast an eye on how this looks in today’s Indonesia, in a way that might make a satirist smirk. We have a vibrant electoral democracy – hundreds of parties, thousands of candidates, competitive campaigns. Yet, peel back the layers, and patterns emerge. At the national level, parliament has seen an influx of familiar faces – literally family members of political bigwigs. It became almost routine that party chairpersons would position their children as top candidates in strategic constituencies, virtually assuring them a seat in the House[28]. A few years ago, one could scan the list of newly elected MPs and play a game of “Spot the Dynasty”: find the ones whose last names match a famous political surname. In many cases, if it wasn’t a son or daughter, it was a niece, nephew, son-in-law, or cousin of some party leader[28][29]. The phenomenon was so widespread that observers quipped the legislature had become a family club, a sort of aristocratic salon under the guise of republican representation.

Then there’s the regional arena. Remember those 171 “kingdoms” of dynasties? It’s instructive (and a bit humorous) to consider a typical example: A man serves two terms as district head (thanks to term limits). Come next election, he backs his wife to succeed him – after all, who better to carry on his vision (and protect his interests) than the missus? In another province, a governor steps down and grooms his son to run, marketing Junior as “energetic new blood” even as everyone knows Dad’s old network stands behind him. In yet another, an ex-minister’s daughter, barely out of college, suddenly becomes a mayoral candidate because – well – name recognition and a ready-made donor network give her a leg up over any self-made technocrat. The script repeats with local variations, but the theme is the same: bloodline as political capital.

It would be funny if it weren’t so effective. Many of these dynastic candidates do win. They leverage the three M’s known in Indonesian electioneering: Massa (masses of supporters), Machinery (party or patronage machine), and Modal (money) – all of which an established political family has in abundance. Competing against that is like an indie startup taking on a family conglomerate. No wonder independent, merit-based candidates often lose. The playing field isn’t level; it’s tilted by surname. As political scientists have noted, Indonesia’s post-Reformasi elites didn’t disappear – they merely regrouped and adapted[30]. Scholars Richard Robison and Vedi Hadiz observed that the old oligarchs reinvented themselves in the new democratic era, maintaining dominance through patronage networks and family ties[30]. Another researcher, Jeffrey Winters, famously described Indonesia’s system as an “electoral oligarchy,” meaning that behind the facade of elections, power remains concentrated among a few wealthy families and their allies[30]. In essence, the feudal Javanese pattern of an inner circle controlling the realm has been translated into modern terms: an inner circle controlling party lists, contracts, and policy – with the inner circle defined primarily by kinship or marriage.

From an academic perspective, one could argue that this is not uniquely “Javanese” but rather a structural outcome of weak institutions and strong socio-family ties. True, nepotism and patronage exist in many cultures. But Java’s long history of centralized kingdoms and hierarchical social structure (the priyayi noble class vs. commoners) laid especially fertile ground for dynastic politics. The tendency to defer to elder statesmen as father figures, and to view authority as something passed down like heirlooms, is more pronounced. Additionally, the cultural politeness (ewuh pekewuh) in Javanese society – being reluctant to confront or challenge those above you – means people often silently tolerate nepotistic decisions even if they grumble in private. All these factors allow modern nepotism to carry on with surprisingly little open resistance.

That said, resistance does exist and is growing among civic groups and younger Indonesians who see the absurdity. Social media buzzes with satire whenever a high-profile case of nepotism arises. A recent poster making the rounds online joked about Indonesia’s 2024 election being a “Family Festival” rather than a democratic contest. (One meme showed a family tree diagram labeled “Cabinet Line-Up.”) Such satire indicates a rising awareness that something is off when leadership resembles a family genealogy project. The government’s own Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) and independent watchdogs like Indonesia Corruption Watch have repeatedly warned that political dynasties correlate with graft and abuse when a clique holds power too long, they treat public resources as personal property[23][31]. These warnings echo what history taught us: unchecked nepotism breeds corruption and incompetence.

Nepotism’s Toll: Why Indonesia Struggles to Rise

So, why does any of this matter beyond the intrigue of who’s related to whom? Because the “one big family” model of leadership carries significant costs for a nation’s progress. Let’s peel back the satirical tone for a moment and scrutinize the real consequences, which are no laughing matter.

Firstly, nepotism undermines meritocracy and competence. When positions are filled based on kinship rather than capability, you inevitably get some square pegs in round holes – unqualified people in important jobs. A classic Javanese example from the epics: the teacher Drona gave special archery lessons to his son and favorite student Arjuna, while neglecting others, breeding resentment and weakening overall unity[32][33]. In modern bureaucracy, the parallel is clear. If a district chief hires his cousin as the public works director (instead of a trained engineer), expect potholes in the roads and leaks in the pipes. Studies worldwide find that favoritism in hiring can hurt organizational performance. For instance, research in the United States indicates nepotistic hires often result in lower productivity and reduced overall efficiency – firms don’t necessarily get the best workers, just the most connected[34]. Over time, this hollows out institutions. In Indonesia, experts lament the decline in public service quality wherever nepotism and collusion take root[35]. A nepotistic bureaucracy “hinders professionalism and creates injustice,” notes Professor Erwan Purwanto of Gadjah Mada University[35]. It becomes a cumbersome machine where merit-based reforms struggle to penetrate. The public loses trust when they perceive (often correctly) that promotions are won in family dining rooms rather than through achievement.

Worse, nepotism is a gateway drug to corruption. Once you install your brother or daughter in a key post, accountability tends to slip. After all, will you prosecute your kin for malfeasance? Unlikely. This erodes checks and balances. Watchdog organizations have found that dynastic local leaders often engage in higher levels of budget misuse and rent-seeking. Procurement deals might go to the governor’s sister’s company; government jobs might be “bought” through the mayor’s uncle as broker[23][36]. Indeed, Indonesia saw a spate of “job-buying” scandals where hundreds of civil service positions were essentially sold – a practice facilitated by collusive networks of officials who often were related or linked by patronage[36]. The more nepotism infects a system, the more transparency and fairness suffer. Indonesia’s Corruption Perception Index has stagnated or worsened in recent years, and analysts point to persistent collusion and nepotism as key drivers[37]. In short, a government run like a family shop can descend into kleptocracy, where public coffers become the family piggy bank.

Another casualty is public trust and social cohesion. When citizens feel that they are outsiders in their own country’s power structure – that no matter how talented or hardworking they are, they can’t advance because they lack the “royal” surname – cynicism abounds. This discourages the best and brightest from contributing in the public sector (brain drain, anyone?). It can even stoke ethnic and regional tensions. Non-Javanese groups sometimes complain that the central government and major parties are dominated by a Javanese old boys (and girls) network. Whether or not that’s entirely fair, the perception of ethnic favoritism can be corrosive. The national motto of “Bhinneka Tunggal Ika” (Unity in Diversity) is undermined if large segments perceive a particular lineage or group as monopolizing leadership. Democracy itself is compromised: instead of a contest of ideas and capability, elections risk becoming mere rituals to ratify predetermined succession plans (the satirical “being prepared” comment in that Medium piece: a politician casually mentioned a young celebrity was “being prepared” to be a future regent, not by voters but by elite design [38][39]). The perception that elite families predetermine outcomes in smoke-filled rooms (or perhaps over martabak and sweet tea) makes voters apathetic. Why bother voting if “Prince So-and-So” will win thanks to his dad’s influence? Such apathy is poison to democratic vitality.

On the economic front, nepotism is a development deadweight. Modern studies have started quantifying this. Economists have modeled how nepotism in labor markets leads to lower human capital development – basically, people see that merit won’t be rewarded, so they invest less in education and skill-building[40][41]. One cross-country study found a clear negative association between perceived nepotism and a country’s educational performance and innovation. In economies where “who you know” trumps “what you know,” fewer young people bother to excel, and talent goes unrecognized[42][43]. Over generations, this results in slower growth. Indeed, the same study concluded that nepotism tends to lead to inferior economic growth and perhaps even stagnation[44]. It’s like running an economy on half its cylinders because the other half of the talented workforce is sidelined. Another analysis showed nepotism significantly and negatively affects overall human capital formation – a fancy way of saying it drags down the education and skill level of the nation[45]. In a developing country like Indonesia, which aspires to reach high-income status, such a drag is no joke. It could be the difference between leaping forward like South Korea did (with its emphasis on competitive education and meritocratic advancement) versus muddling in the middle-income trap.

Let’s illustrate with a hypothetical (yet familiar) scenario: Suppose there are two candidates to head a new infrastructure project – one is the minister’s competent, foreign-educated protege (no family ties), the other is the minister’s second cousin with mediocre experience. If the cousin gets the job due to kinship, what might we expect? Delays in project execution, budget overruns, and even a scandal could result if funds go missing. Meanwhile, the competent outsider leaves to work in the private sector or abroad, frustrated by the ceiling imposed by nepotism. Multiply that scenario across dozens of ministries and provinces, and you get a sense of the opportunity cost. The nation loses out on expertise and fresh ideas, stuck instead with the comfort of familiar (if less capable) faces at the helm.

Even in the private sector, nepotism can spill over – think of state-owned enterprises run by politically connected families, or business conglomerates that forge kongsi (clique) with ruling families to secure contracts. It all contributes to what Indonesians call “kolusi” (collusion), another piece of the KKN triad. These intertwining relations create an oligarchy that is resilient against reform. Marcus Mietzner, a prominent scholar on Indonesian politics, has argued that this entrenchment of anti-reformist dynastic elites is a significant reason for Indonesia’s democratic stagnation in the past decade (a trend some label a slide toward illiberalism). In essence, those who benefit from the status quo – the families in power – have little incentive to change the rules of the game that favor them[30].

From a broader lens, nepotism is antithetical to the very idea of a modern republic. The Indonesian Constitution and the state ideology Pancasila envision a society led by the best representatives of the people, ensuring “social justice for all”. That lofty fifth principle of Pancasila – Keadilan Sosial bagi seluruh Rakyat Indonesia – rings hollow when public offices become de facto family inheritances[46][47]. If only a small elite’s offspring keep circulating in power, where is the justice for the rest? The social contract frays. Citizens may start feeling like mere spectators in a game dominated by a few families, as if the “democracy” is just a wayang kulit show orchestrated by dalangs (puppet masters) behind the screen[48]. Indeed, a sense of cynicism has grown: people jest that elections are wayang performances where the shadow puppets are candidates but the real strings are pulled by their familial patrons – a poignant analogy given Java’s rich shadow-puppet tradition.

How to Rule Like a True Javanese Patriarch (Satire Alert)

Let’s take a satirical detour. Suppose, dear reader, you aspired to be a Javanese-style leader with all the trappings of nepotism (not that we recommend it!). Here’s a tongue-in-cheek guide – a step-by-step manual on “How to Keep Power in the Family”:

Start with a Family Gathering – Before you lead the public, lead a huddle in your living room. Identify which relatives are available for which positions—uncle for advisory council, wife for charitable foundation leader, eldest son for youth committee head. The key is to never trust a stranger when a cousin will do. As ancient wisdom teaches, “trust flows through bloodlines first.” After all, why hire an unknown technocrat when you have a perfectly good brother-in-law looking for a job?
“Ngumpulke Balung Pisah” as Your Motto – Embrace the Javanese proverb of uniting the scattered bones (your relatives)[5]. Your leadership mission is incomplete until every last kin is snugly placed in some government sinecure. Have a distant nephew with a law degree? Fantastic – make him chief legal advisor. Your philosophy: if we aren’t one family, we can’t lead effectively. So, make everyone in the administration feel like part of one big family. In policy meetings, proudly declare: “Our strength is our familial bond.” The lower people (outsiders) just wouldn’t understand.
Practice Strategic Marriages – If someone critical isn’t related, solve it with matrimony. This is the classic triman maneuver from the royal courts[7]. Marry your daughter off to that rising political star or fuse your clan with another powerful family through a union. It’s the Javanese equivalent of a corporate merger. In one move, you turn a potential rival into a beloved family member. Plus, you get to address them with cozy terms like “uncle” or “son,” which is excellent for avoiding formal accountability. Nepotism? No, no – it’s just expanding the family circle!
Keep it All in the Family – Don’t stop at official posts; extend the family touch to contracts and business. Cousin needs a construction project? Award it to his company (nevermind that it was just founded last week). Does the sister want to supply the office stationery? By all means, support her entrepreneurial spirit. This way, when critics accuse you of corruption, you can earnestly respond, “I’m simply empowering local family-owned businesses.” Said with a straight face, it almost sounds virtuous.
Loyalty over Merit, Always – Make it known that in your realm, loyalty trumps skill every time. A competent outsider might know how to fix the budget, but can you trust someone who doesn’t come to your Hari Raya reunions? Unthinkable. It’s better to choose a loyal, if mediocre, cousin to be finance minister than a brilliant stranger who might question your decisions. As a bonus, the cousin will be so grateful, he’ll never challenge your authority – he owes Om Leader everything.
Use Familial Titles for Aura – Insist on being called Bapak (Father) by subordinates – it reinforces the idea that the state is an extension of your household. Call your inner circle “Team Keluarga” (Family Team). When giving speeches, liberally use phrases like “we in this government are one family”. The public loves the warmth of it, and it normalizes the nepotism underlying it. Who can be angry at a leader who treats everyone like family, right?
Silence Dissent with Javanese Politeness – If some naïve reformer complains about nepotism, gently rebuke them in a roundabout Javanese way. Say, “Tidak enak, Mas, membicarakan keluarga” (“It’s not proper, brother, to speak ill of family matters”). This taps into the cultural reluctance to confront someone about their family. By framing criticism of your nepotism as bad manners or an attack on your family’s honor, you guilt-trip the critics into silence. Clever, eh?
Plan the Succession – A true family-centric leader doesn’t just rule for his term; he plans for the next generation. Start grooming your heir early. If you’re a mayor, perhaps your son can run for council this year, then vice mayor next, then mayor when you retire. Or if you’re a minister, maybe a daughter can take over the party leadership someday. Signal this subtly: have your heir accompany you to official events, let them cut ribbons at ceremonies. The public will get used to their face. It’s the “trained from birth” mystique. Democracy will adjust to your dynastic timetable – after all, destiny (and Daddy) calls!

Breaking the Cycle: Can Indonesia Move Beyond the Family Model?

Every satirical tale should have a grain of hope or a moral at the end. So, what’s the outlook for Indonesia escaping this “family trap”? Are we destined to play out a never-ending Javanese palace drama in our politics, or can we embrace a more open, merit-based future?

History shows that these cycles can be broken – but it’s not easy. The late 1990s Reformasi was one attempt to break free, and it succeeded for a time in delegitimizing blatant nepotism. There was a genuine public ethos then that competence and clean governance should prevail. Civil society, media, and student movements were key in pushing that narrative. Over time, however, the old practices crept back in new forms. This implies that cultural change is a long game. As one Javanese scholar noted, nepotism (and its cousins collusion and corruption) are part of a feudal legacy that won’t vanish overnight; it’s been ingrained over centuries and even subtly tolerated by society[49][50]. Eliminating it might require not just legal reforms but generational shifts in mindset. Suhartono, a historian, argued that while nepotism was once the “zeitgeist” of the feudal era (when it was perhaps even functional then), in a modern democratic context it’s anachronistic and harmful[51]. The challenge is to accelerate the cultural evolution away from feudal habits toward democratic values[52][53].

There are some positive signs. Indonesian media and NGOs today are far more vigilant in exposing conflicts of interest than in decades past. When a politician tries to slide a family member into succession, it often makes headlines and triggers public debate. The fact that “dynasty politics” is now openly discussed (and sometimes litigated – there was even an attempt to ban immediate family succession in local elections, though it faced political resistance) shows a growing awareness. Even within Javanese culture, there’s recognition that the world has changed. The younger Javanese generation, many of whom are educated in globally competitive environments, don’t all subscribe to the old Bapak knows best deference. They use social media to lampoon leaders who act like feudal lords. Satire itself – the approach we’ve taken here – is a weapon against the mystique of nepotism. By laughing at it, by drawing analogies to the absurdities of old kingdoms, people demystify these so-called big families.

Moreover, Indonesia’s sheer diversity might be a saving grace. Not all regions share the Javanese historical experience of monarchy, and even in Java, not everyone is enthralled by aristocratic nostalgia. Other ethnic groups value merit and technocracy in different ways, and as they assert themselves, they could dilute the concentration of Javanese dynasties at the top. (It’s worth noting that some of the loudest voices against political dynasties have come from outside Java, pushing for more equal opportunity.)

On the institutional front, continuing to strengthen rule of law is key. Robust anti-corruption enforcement can deter the worst nepotistic excesses – for example, if officials know that giving a contract to a family company without proper tender could land them in jail, they might think twice. Merit-based recruitment systems in the civil service, which Indonesia is slowly adopting with exams and computerized applications, help remove the old “friend and family” hiring practices[54][55]. Professor Purwanto, whom we cited earlier, emphasized reforms like meritocratic recruitment, transparency in promotions, and digital oversight as ways to combat nepotism in bureaucracy[54][55]. These are tangible steps forward – essentially injecting a bit of impersonal fairness into what was a personal network game.

Yet, for all these efforts, the allure of family in leadership will likely persist until a new narrative replaces it. Perhaps that narrative could be a revival of the ideal of “Ratu Adil”, the Javanese legendary Just King – but interpreted in modern terms as a truly fair leader who rises by virtue, not by blood. What if a leader could galvanize the public by openly rejecting nepotism – say, by appointing a cabinet with no personal friends or family, only experts and representatives of the people’s choice? Such a bold move would earn massive respect and could set a precedent. One might recall how in some countries, leaders made it a point to distance from family influence (for instance, in early U.S. history, nepotism was frowned upon strongly; or in modern Singapore, rules are pretty strict on familial conflicts in government). Indonesia may not be there yet, but if public pressure and awareness continue to grow, future leaders might feel compelled to limit the degree of familial favoritism at least.

In closing, Indonesia’s struggle to “bangkit” (rise up) is intimately tied to shedding this model of governance-as-family-business. The satire we’ve woven hides a sincere hope: that Indonesia can combine the best of its heritage – the genuine warmth of kekeluargaan (sense of family) – with the best of modern governance – the efficiency and justice of meritocracy. In a way, it’s about expanding the notion of family to national family. If all citizens are considered your family, then favoritism for one’s literal family becomes a betrayal of the larger family (the nation). This would be a profound reframing, aligning cultural values with democratic ideals.

As we end our journey through Javanese kingdoms and contemporary politics, let’s picture one more scene: a wayang kulit play under a starlit sky. The wise clown Semar steps forward, addressing the audience with wit and wisdom. He jokes about a king who loved his family so much he gave them all the jobs – and the kingdom promptly fell apart. The audience laughs, but they also nod, recognizing the truth in the humor. Then Semar asks, “Must it always be so? Can the humble villager not become a leader unless he joins the king’s family? What if, instead, we make all villagers our family?” In that question lies the seed of change. The Javanese have a saying, “anak polah, bapa kepradah” – roughly, when a child errs, the parent suffers the consequences. If the “parent” is the leader and the “children” are his people, the leader’s mistakes (nepotism included) hurt everyone. A good Bapak would want all his children to thrive, not just his blood relations.

Thus, the moral of our satire might be: A truly great leader treats the whole nation as one family – fairly and justly. When Indonesia finds and insists on such leadership, it will have outgrown the need for this satire. The chapter of “Orang Jawa susah memimpin jika tidak satu keluarga” will close, and a new chapter – perhaps titled “Orang Indonesia maju bersama sebagai satu keluarga bangsa” (Indonesians advance together as one national family) – can begin. Until then, we will keep sharpening our quills and our wit, nudging the powers that be with pointed jokes and historical reminders, hoping they get the message that it’s time to broaden the family circle – or better yet, to lead without clannish fear, embracing the rich talents of all the people.

After all, as the old Javanese wisdom also teaches, “Sepi ing pamrih, rame ing gawe” – take little for oneself, give much in work for others. It’s an ethos that runs counter to nepotism and is a beacon for Indonesia’s future beyond the shadow of feudal family politics. Let’s hope that beacon shines brighter in the years to come.

References

Suhartono (1999). Feudal Heritage: Source of Corruption, Collusion, and Nepotism. Humaniora Journal. (Analyzes how Indonesia’s modern corruption and nepotism stem from entrenched feudal (especially Javanese) practices of genealogical patronage)[2][5].
MyPtSalumna (2025). Nepotism in Indonesia: A Legacy of Feudalism or a Political Strategy? Medium. (Highlights how political dynasties in post-1998 Indonesia indicate feudal-era nepotism lingering in modern democracy, citing scholars like Benedict Anderson and Jeffrey Winters on patron-client ties and oligarchy)[30][56].
Deutsche Welle – Geger Riyanto (2016). “Nepotisme atau Sayang Keluarga?”. (Opinion piece discussing Indonesia’s tolerance of nepotism by reframing it as familial love, with examples from New Order era and contemporary political dynasties, noting the linguistic shift from “nepotism” to “political dynasty” and the cultural dominance of family ties in politics)[20][26].
Universitas Gadjah Mada News (2025). “Collusion and Nepotism Key Drivers of Bureaucratic Complexity in Indonesia”. (Reports on academic lectures citing that nepotism and collusion impair bureaucracy, reduce public service quality, increase corruption risk, and burden the economy; includes data on 171 regions with dynasties and calls for merit-based reforms)[35][23].
Holger Strulik & Marcello Pérez-Álvarez (2020). “Nepotism, Human Capital and Economic Development.” (Academic paper demonstrating that nepotism as a cultural norm hinders human capital formation and leads to lower economic growth; finds nepotism negatively associated with education outcomes and innovation)[44][45].
Javanese Folk Art & Culture references (Art-Pacific, 2001). (Describes the role of punakawan clowns in Javanese wayang stories as both comedic and philosophical figures representing common people’s perspective during tales of royal family conflict, e.g. Pandavas vs. Kauravas)[1].
Harvard Magazine (Krupnick, 2023). “Nepotism’s Impact in the Job Market.” (Discusses research on nepotistic hiring in the U.S., finding it entrenches privilege and has negative consequences for productivity and equality of opportunity, illustrating general pitfalls of nepotism in any context)[34].
Anonymous Javanese painting (Rijksmuseum, 19th century) – “Five Javanese Court Officials.” (Visual depiction of Javanese aristocratic bureaucrats, symbolizing the traditional elite class that often obtained positions through lineage and court patronage)
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Wikimedia Commons – Shadow Puppet of Semar. (Image of Semar, the wise clown in Javanese wayang, who often satirizes and counsels the aristocracy – emblematic of using humor to speak truth to power in Javanese culture)
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