Indonesia is hit in the most unexpected place. Even with a minister who is young, tech-savvy, and Harvard-educated, corruption, like a shadow, follows.
Nadiem Makarim was supposed to be different. As the founder of Gojek, a unicorn startup celebrated globally, he embodied the promise of a new kind of leader, one shaped not by bureaucracy, but by Silicon Valley’s disruptive spirit. When President Joko Widodo plucked him from the tech world in 2019 to lead the Ministry of Education and Culture (later merged into Education, Research and Technology), it symbolized hope: here was someone modern, meritocratic, and untainted by the old political order.
But as Indonesia’s Attorney General’s Office (AGO) delves deeper into a corruption scandal surrounding a massive Chromebook procurement program, that image is fracturing. Behind the sleek presentations, Google partnerships, and glowing headlines lies a story that’s all too familiar: one where billions of taxpayer rupiah, meant for children’s education, may have been steered not by national interest but private ties and corporate collusion.
Between 2019 and 2022, the Ministry of Education launched an ambitious plan to digitize Indonesian schools. At the center of it: the procurement of over one million Chromebooks, laptops running Google’s Chrome OS, valued at nearly IDR 9.9 trillion (USD 640 million).
On the surface, it was a forward-looking move. But documents, testimonies, and official statements now suggest the entire project was riddled with problems from the start. Instead of being tailored to Indonesia’s needs as many schools lacked stable electricity, let alone internet, the specifications were aligned with Google’s proprietary ecosystem. Chrome OS was selected not through open innovation but through quiet persuasion.
The AGO revealed that key ministry officials were part of a WhatsApp group called “Mas Menteri Core Team”, which had already decided on Google’s system before Nadiem was officially sworn in. Internal documents show Google offered to co-invest 30 percent, or IDR 2.97 trillion, in the ministry’s education tech program on one condition: the government had to commit to buying Chromebooks.
The very idea of a multinational corporation offering money in exchange for exclusive procurement raises red flags. It sounds less like public-private partnership and more like pay-to-play.
But the story deepens.
During this same period, Google was also investing in GoTo, the newly merged entity of Gojek and Tokopedia. Gojek was founded by none other than Nadiem Makarim. While he had officially stepped down from his role in late 2019 to join the Cabinet, he remained a shareholder in the company, at one point owning nearly 5 percent, according to public filings.
Investigators now question: was Google’s investment in GoTo part of a reciprocal arrangement for being granted such dominant access to Indonesia’s education market? Was the 30% “co-investment” offer just a façade for a kickback, with actual benefits funneled into a company with indirect ties to the minister?
These aren’t just legal questions. They strike at the heart of governance in a digital economy. When the lines between ministerial duty and private capital blur, what happens to public trust?
The AGO has already raided GoTo offices, questioned former ministry aides, and seized documents. Two special staffers, Jurist Tan and Ibrahim Arief, were named suspects. Nadiem himself has been summoned twice for questioning. Though not yet a suspect, his fingerprints are everywhere: from early strategy meetings with Google to approving the tender specifications and launching the digital programs that fueled the procurement.
Much of the disillusionment stems from expectation. Nadiem Makarim was supposed to bring the best of the West to Indonesia: innovation, accountability and transparency. As a Harvard Business School graduate and golden child of Indonesia’s tech scene, he inspired a generation to believe in ethical disruption. His image stood in stark contrast to older political elites tainted by patronage and secrecy.
But this scandal is a sobering reminder: even tech-savvy ministers, armed with foreign degrees and sleek branding, are not immune to the lure of unchecked influence. In fact, they may be uniquely positioned to weaponize the private sector’s opacity, corporate language, and platform-based monopolies for personal or political gain.
Unlike classic graft, marked by envelopes of cash or inflated project costs, this scandal is much more sophisticated. It hides behind co-investment agreements, API integrations, and procurement APIs. It builds influence not through bribes, but through equity and access.
To fully grasp the gravity of this scandal, one must understand the scale of what’s at stake.
Indonesia’s education budget in 2022 was IDR 542.8 trillion, one of the largest in Asia. But only a fraction goes to technology, perhaps IDR 5–10 trillion a year.
The Chromebook procurement alone consumed 90% of the ministry’s ICT budget. And Google’s promised “co-investment” of IDR 2.97 trillion would have been larger than the entire budget of many directorates inside the ministry.
That means one private vendor, through a foreign platform, was positioned to dictate the future of digital learning in Indonesia. This wasn’t just a hardware deal. The push for Chrome OS devices didn’t just supply laptops; it locked schools into Google’s platform: Gmail, Google Docs, Google Classroom, and more.
This is education policy as platform capture. It institutionalized dependency on a foreign tech giant, while shutting out local innovation, open-source alternatives, and context-appropriate technologies better suited for Indonesia’s vast and uneven infrastructure. In schools across Papua and remote islands, many Chromebooks sat idle, unable to connect to the internet. They were given a device they couldn’t use. Teachers were trained on systems their classrooms couldn’t power.For people in under-resourced areas, the devices were more a symbol of policy failure than technological hope.
For millions of Indonesians, this scandal is a bitter pill. After years of struggling for education equity, rural access, and anti-corruption reform, they watched a tech minister sell a Silicon Valley dream, only for it to end in a very Jakarta nightmare.
The most tragic cost isn’t the wasted money. It is the erosion of public imagination. When even young, well-educated leaders bend the system, what hope remains for reform?
The AGO’s investigation continues. Whether or not Nadiem is formally charged, the damage is done. This scandal has exposed how technology, politics, and capital now operate in concert, and how corruption adapts to the digital age.
It should force Indonesia to rethink how it governs its education budget, how it negotiates with tech giants, and how it protects its public institutions from the influence of startup capitalism.
Above all, it should serve as a warning: the face of corruption is no longer just old, grey, and bureaucratic. It may wear sneakers, speak English fluently, and carry a Harvard degree, but in the end, it serves the same shadow.
Omong-Omong Media’s editorial is also published in The Jakarta Post every Monday.
