The Rinjani Trail and the Future of Indonesian Universities
Jakarta, Indonesia: In truth, we are not short of outstanding human resources. On various state universities there are eminent professors, researchers, and lecturers whose capacities are no less than those in other countries.
There is one fundamental issue that continues to hamper progress: we never truly unite those strengths. On the Rinjani ascent route via Sembalun, seasoned climbers know two options: the torturous path and the path of regret. These two routes are not merely physical paths; they are metaphors for life choices between a fast but arduous road and a longer, more comfortable yet time-consuming road.
Today, Indonesia stands at the same crossroads, not on a mountain, but in the grand ambition to break into the world’s top 100 universities.
If we look at Southeast Asian countries and Australia, there is a fairly clear pattern. Australia has around 37 public universities, Malaysia around 20, and Thailand, though larger, still concentrates strongly on a few elite campuses. With relatively few institutions, their human resources are concentrated, collaboration is easier to achieve, and government funding can be directed strategically.
By contrast, Indonesia has a much larger number of public universities. On one hand, this shows mass access to education, but on the other hand, it creates fragmentation. The pool of outstanding human resources is spread across many institutions, operating in separate spaces and often working in isolation. We have many strands, but have yet to form a strong broom.
As a result, the country’s vast energy is not culminating in a global leap. We are strong in potential but weak in consolidation.
In this context, the first option emerges: the torturous path. This path requires national boldness to mobilise renowned professors on a national scale. The best lecturers from various universities would be temporarily relocated to a few universities targeted to enter the world’s top 100. Much like in the military and police institutions, transfers are not unusual. It is part of organisational strategy to fortify certain points.
In academia, such a policy touches a far more personal dimension. A chair professor is not simply moving offices. They would have to bring their families, move their children to new schools, leave homes built over years, and adapt to new social and cultural environments. It is not an exaggeration to call this the ‘torture path.’
Nevertheless, from the public policy perspective, the impact could be extremely significant. Concentrating chair professors in one university would accelerate the production of scientific publications, increase citations, and build global academic reputation in a relatively short time. A culture of competitive research could form due to drive and interaction among leading scholars in one space.
However, this path must not be implemented indiscriminately. It should be designed as an honourable national assignment, not unilateral coercion. The state must guarantee living arrangements, family education, and provide fair incentives. Assignments must also be temporary, for instance five years, with clear objectives—capacity building, not just chasing numbers.