When Study Programmes Are Closed, Who Is Really the Loser?
Working in South Korea’s Future Studies programme taught me one important lesson: knowledge that seems “irrelevant” today can become the most sought-after competency tomorrow.
Two years ago, I received an offer to work in a higher education programme in South Korea. Initially, I was hesitant. This was not a field I had ever touched before— the world of digital, technology, and knowledge far from my background as a graduate in Teacher Education. However, after weighing it, I accepted the offer. And that experience changed my view of education forever.
My journey from Jakarta to Bali a few weeks ago left me with a conversation I cannot easily forget. Sitting next to me was a CEO of a technology company from Poland who has been doing business in Indonesia for five years.
He asked how I recruited employees here. I was honest: it is not easy. Talent is abundant, but those who truly meet company standards are hard to find. It took me two years of assembling and disassembling teams before I finally got a solid team.
He smiled, then shared his story. During the Covid-19 pandemic, he needed to recruit 160 people in two years in Indonesia. To reach that number, he had to screen more than a thousand candidates.
His conclusion was sharp: Indonesian talent is not ready to enter the workforce—not just in terms of skill sets, but also mentality and way of thinking. That conversation on the plane, for me, is a mirror of the crisis we are facing today.
In recent weeks, the public has been shocked by the discourse from the Ministry of Higher Education, Science, and Technology (Kemendikti Saintek) which will eliminate hundreds of inactive study programmes (prodi) at various universities in Indonesia. This policy has sparked debate: is this a long-needed efficiency measure, or a hasty amputation of a system that is already ill?
BPS data does not lie. The educated unemployment rate—those holding diplomas to bachelor’s degrees—is increasingly high. A few months ago, I wrote in this media about a state university in Sumatra that graduates nearly 5,000 bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral students every year—while job opportunities in the area are almost non-existent. But is closing programmes the right answer?
A programme becomes inactive not because the knowledge it teaches is irrelevant, but because the institution fails to package and present that knowledge contextually for a world that is constantly changing. An empty Philosophy programme is not proof that this nation does not need critical thinkers.
On the contrary—in this era of digital disinformation floods, critical thinking ability is the most scarce commodity that we have not yet realised its value. Eliminating programmes based on the number of applicants is like burning a library because its books are rarely read.
Data from the Ministry of Manpower reveals a painful paradox: thousands of job vacancies in the technology, renewable energy, creative economy, and digital logistics sectors are unfilled—while millions of graduates are unemployed. This is not about an excess of graduates. This is about mismatch rooted in the way we discipline scientific knowledge rigidly and in isolation.
Today’s industry no longer seeks “pure economics graduates” or “conventional mechanical engineers”. Fintech companies need someone who understands consumer behavioural psychology as well as writing lines of code.
Digital health startups require figures who master data science as well as medical ethics. McKinsey Global Institute estimates that by 2030, around 375 million workers worldwide will need to shift job categories due to automation. In Indonesia, the World Economic Forum projects that more than 85 million jobs are at risk of being replaced by machines in the next decade.
The lesson from Korea: JW Kim College of Future Studies
This is where my experience in South Korea becomes relevant. The place I worked was a new department on campus—JW KIM College of Future Studies. In the first year, all students are required to take General Education: English, Physics, Mathematics, Critical Thinking, and a number of foundational cross-field courses that we call Interdisciplinary Studies. Only in the second year do students choose concentrations according to their interests and career goals.
This model produces something different: graduates who are not only experts in one field, but able to read contexts, adapt, and communicate across disciplines. That is exactly what the Polish CEO sitting next to me on the plane was looking for.
While Indonesia is busy eliminating programmes deemed obsolete, the world’s leading universities are aggressively breaking down inter-disciplinary walls. Stanford has d.school which combines design, technology, and humanities.
MIT Media Lab knows no boundaries between art, science, and engineering. Future Studies is not fortune-telling science—this is a methodology that combines data analysis, systems theory, sociology, and public policy to make wise decisions amid uncertainty.
Instead of closing, there are three concrete steps that can be started. First, encourage strategic mergers: Fine Arts and Information Technology programmes can transform into Creative Technology Design. Not elimination—but intentional evolution.
Second, open spaces for inter-campus collaboration. If a private university does not have experts in a certain field, they do not have to close the programme—they can collaborate with other campuses, domestic or international. Models like this reduce operational costs while expanding academic networks.
Third, Indonesia needs a regulatory framework that allows dual degrees and cross-faculty minors systematically. And it is time for the government to initiate