Sector
Energy
Indonesia possesses vast, distributed, and diverse energy resources. The country’s energy subsectors include gas, clean water, and electricity, with demand projected to increase to 464 terawatt-hours (TWh) by 2024 and further increase to 1,885 TWh by 2060. The use of renewable energy is a top priority and the government has set ambitious goals in the General Planning for National Energy (RUEN) and General Planning for National Electricity (RKUN) to integrate 23 percent renewable energy into the national energy mix by 2025. At least US$41.8 billion of investments are needed to fully realize the goal.
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Indonesia possesses vast, distributed, and diverse energy resources. The country’s energy subsectors include gas, clean water, and electricity, with demand projected to increase to 464 terawatt-hours (TWh) by 2024 and further increase to 1,885 TWh by 2060. The use of renewable energy is a top priority and the government has set ambitious goals in the General Planning for National Energy (RUEN) and General Planning for National Electricity (RKUN) to integrate 23 percent renewable energy into the national energy mix by 2025. At least US$41.8 billion of investments are needed to fully realize the goal.
Despite having a renewable energy potential estimated at around 3,000 gigawatts (GW), current utilization is merely about 12.74 GW or 3 percent. This renewable energy potential includes solar energy, which is widely spread across Indonesia, especially in East Nusa Tenggara, West Kalimantan, and Riau, with a potential of approximately 3,294 GW and utilization of 323 megawatts (MW). Another renewable energy, hydro energy, with a potential of 95 GW, is primarily found in North Kalimantan, Aceh, West Sumatra, North Sumatra, and Papua, with utilization reaching 6,738 MW.
Additionally, bioenergy, encompassing biofuel, biomass, and biogas, is distributed throughout Indonesia with a total potential of 57 GW and utilization of 3,118 MW. Wind energy (>6 m/s) found in East Nusa Tenggara, South Kalimantan, West Java, South Sulawesi, Aceh, and Papua has a substantial potential of 155 GW, with utilization of 154 MW.
Furthermore, geothermal energy, strategically located in the “Ring of Fire” region covering Sumatra, Java, Bali, Nusa Tenggara, Sulawesi, and Yogyakarta has a potential of 23 GW and utilization of 2,373 MW. Meanwhile, marine energy, with a potential of 63 GW, especially in Yogyakarta, East Nusa Tenggara, West Nusa Tenggara, and Bali, remains untapped.
Among the renewable energy sources and their potential, these projects entail significant investments. According to the Electricity Supply Business Plan (RUPTL) of the State Electricity Company (PLN), from 2021 to 2030, geothermal power plants require an investment of US$17.35 billion, large-scale solar power plants necessitate US$3.2 billion, hydropower plants require US$25.63 billion, and base renewable energy power plants require US$5.49 billion. Additionally, bioenergy power plants require an investment of US$2.2 billion, wind power plants US$1.03 billion, peaker power plants US$0.28 billion, and rooftop solar power plants IS$3 billion.
As of 2022, hydro and geothermal are the primary drivers of growth. Private entities had enhanced the capacity of hydro power by adding 603.66 MW in mini, micro, and standard hydro facilities, reaching a total of 2,459.72 MW. Meanwhile, the geothermal sector experienced a 412 MW increase over the last five years from the private sector, bringing the total capacity to 1,782.8 MW by 2022. Aside from these two renewable energy, sources solar energy has also presented significant opportunities, particularly given Indonesia's potential for floating solar systems on reservoirs and dams.
Furthermore, the country’s other national energy subsector of gas underscores Indonesia’s wealth in natural gas. Indonesia’s natural gas reserves are predominantly methane (80-95 percent), which can be used directly or processed into Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG). However, demand has greatly increased over the past decade for Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG). From 2018 to 2022, domestic LPG production reached between 1.9 to 2 million tons, which is insufficient to meet national needs, leading to increasing imports that reached 6.74 million tons in 2022.
Currently, the Energy and Mineral Resources Ministry is working to attract new investments for LPG refineries through a cluster-based business scheme for the construction or future development of new LPF refineries. The ministry has identified the potential of rich gas to produce an additional 1.2 million tons of LPG cylinders domestically.
Latest News
As toxic haze from seasonal forest and peatland fires blanketed swaths of Sumatra, Kalimantan and Papua, a second crisis unfolded online: Content creators, civil society organizations, environmental activists and regional officials reported a sudden wave of digital suppression.
Eyewitness footage of burning peatlands was flagged as sensitive, awareness campaigns were down-ranked and high-visibility posts were abruptly removed, among them a viral video by Siak Regent Afni Zulkifli documenting postfire reforestation efforts. When netizens accused the government of state-sponsored censorship, Communications and Digital Minister Meutya Hafid issued a firm denial. The ministry had not submitted any takedown orders for forest fire content to social media platforms, she said, stressing that real-time public reporting was vital for emergency response.
That raised an obvious question: If the state was not behind the suppression, who was responsible?
The answer points to major platforms such as Meta, TikTok and X, whose silence obscures a broader legal and structural shift. Under a 2020 ministerial regulation and subsequent compliance directives, the government has effectively outsourced moderation to private companies. Platforms can be penalized for failing to police “prohibited content” and content deemed to cause “public unrest”, which has pushed them to act preemptively as censors through opaque algorithmic suppression and protect themselves from potential sanctions.
Netizens and public figures noticed that posts raising awareness about haze and forest destruction immediately suffered severe drops in reach. Activist accounts were suspended and videos documenting environmental rehabilitation were removed under vague terms of service provisions.
Despite the public outcry, the platforms stayed silent. They offered no explanations to affected creators, nor did they say whether automated filters had misclassified disaster reporting. That silence may serve a corporate strategy: By presenting mass content removal as routine terms of service enforcement, platforms limit their exposure to local liabilities and avoid friction with host governments.
Under the 2020 regulation, foreign and domestic private electronic system operators (PSE) face strict compliance rules. Standard takedown requests must be actioned within 24 hours, while content deemed a threat to public safety, public order or national security must be taken down within just four. The definition for “prohibited content” is broad and ambiguous, covering material deemed to cause “public anxiety” or disturb “public order”. Noncompliance can bring heavy fines, operational sanctions and a nationwide block.
These penalties reshape platforms’ risk calculations. With so much at stake commercially, a wait and see approach is too costly, so platforms have a strong incentive to calibrate their automated systems toward over-removal.
Meutya’s statement that the ministry had not requested any takedowns may well be true, but it misses how modern digital governance works. The state no longer needs to issue a notice for every sensitive post. Through regulatory design, it has created structural incentives that encourage platforms to demote or remove viral posts depicting environmental crises, toxic haze and public panic before they attract official scrutiny.
The collateral damage is significant. Language models and computer vision often struggle with local context. When millions of users simultaneously post footage of orange skies and dense smoke, algorithms can misread it as graphic violence, distressing content or coordinated spam and trigger automatic down-ranking or removal. By shifting the burden of proactive moderation onto private companies, the state retains plausible deniability. It can publicly champion open information while platform algorithms quietly contain crisis reporting.
The incident exposes a dangerous vulnerability in public discourse. In a disaster, social media is vital infrastructure for public safety, resource coordination and community accountability. When regulation compels platforms to act as private police under the threat of bans, free expression and public awareness quietly erode. Resolving this requires moving beyond simply framing the issue as state versus user and toward systemic platform accountability.
Until technology companies are required to disclose their moderation rules, audit their crisis response algorithms and resist overreaching compliance demands, the public will remain caught between state regulatory pressure and silent corporate censorship.
