Greedonomics

In recent years, there have been growing concerns in Indonesia about how land expropriation by powerful oligarchs and corporate interests has increasingly targeted ordinary citizens and indigenous communities. One prominent example involves the coastal reclamation project at Pantai Indah Kapuk 2 (PIK‑2) in Banten, where activists claim that large tracts of land and sea-adjacent territory once held under traditional documents (like girik, petuk, kikitir) are being systematically overridden in favour of major development firms. 

The mechanism often cited is the introduction of regulatory loopholes—for example, under Peraturan Pemerintah No. 18 Tahun 2021 and related measures, the older customary or local land titles become less legally effective, thus paving the way for corporations, with the backing of state agencies, to obtain major concessions. In parallel, there are accusations of “land-musnah” or “vanished-land” tactics, especially in coastal zones, which permit reclamation and claim of previously sea-oriented land by business interests. 

Another case that sheds light on how entrenched this phenomenon has become concerns the land of a prominent figure: Jusuf Kalla (JK). Even his company reportedly encountered claims of forced takeover of roughly 16.4 hectares in Makassar. While the details remain contested, advocates say this illustrates the breadth of power wielded by oligarch-corporate networks and their ability to exploit legal systems against ordinary land-holders. 

From a broader historical view, researchers note that the pattern of agrarian dispossession in Indonesia has roots extending back to colonial times, with land transfers first from local communities to plantations, then to state and private holdings, continuing under neoliberal and investment-driven models. The interplay of state policy, corporate expansion, and weakened protections for customary land rights has resulted in what many describe as a systemic loss of land security for common people.

The expropriation of land by oligarch-corporate forces in Indonesia is not limited to one island or sector; it spans coastal reclamation in Banten, disputes in Sulawesi, and plantation or special-economic-zone conversions nationwide. The key issues include weakened customary title protections, regulatory frameworks that favour large investments over local ownership, and collusion or lack of enforcement in state institutions.

When President Prabowo speaks of “greedonomics” (or “serakahnomics”), he is drawing attention to a pattern of economic activity in which powerful actors—whether corporations or oligarchic networks—use their privileged position to extract value from society with minimal regard for the rights, welfare or dignity of ordinary people. In this sense, the large-scale land grab by oligarchy-corporate interests in Indonesia, especially when it involves communities, customary land rights, or weak regulatory protection for small land-holders, becomes one concrete manifestation of the “greedonomics” that Prabowo is warning about.

For example, when land originally held by community or indigenous groups is taken for development without fair compensation, transparency, or due process, the underlying logic is no different from what Prabowo calls “economic vampires” or actors pursuing profit from suffering. In such cases, the state’s ability (or willingness) to protect community rights may be diminished, enabling the extraction of land value by the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable.

Moreover, Prabowo links the notion of greedonomics not only to domestic issues but to international economic dynamics — he warns that corruption, hoarding, market‐manipulation and exploitative extractive practices hinder genuine growth and equity. From this perspective, the phenomenon of land expropriation by oligarchy/corporations can be seen as both an economic and moral challenge: it undermines the foundations of inclusive growth, disrupts trust in institutions, and sustains inequality.

Thus, by framing land-grabbing in Indonesia as part of a broader “greedonomics” problem, one can argue that what is happening is not mere isolated misconduct but part of a systemic pattern—where elites capture land and resources, sideline ordinary citizens, and thereby replicate the very dynamics that Prabowo decries. In doing so, the fight against land dispossession becomes aligned with his agenda of confronting greed-driven economics and reclaiming fairness for the people.

In a world dominated by avarice, one might encounter what could be called Greedonomics. In this economic system, greed is not merely tolerated but celebrated as the primary engine of progress. Within this framework, the accumulation of private wealth is hailed as the ultimate measure of national success, regardless of the price that the poor or the environment must pay. It is a world where the rich get richer, and the rest are merely lectured on morality.

Closely related is Grabonomics, an economy that thrives on the ruthless mantra of “first come, first served,” where ethics and fairness are merely obstacles to be bypassed. Businessmen, politicians, and brokers scramble for projects, positions, and concessions as if caught in an endless game of musical chairs. In this realm, those with access grab it all, unapologetically and without concern for anyone else. Value creation is irrelevant; what matters is value extraction.

Then there is Gluttonomics, an insatiable economy that never knows enough. It resembles a grand feast reserved for a privileged few, while the majority are left starving on the sidelines. Here, excessive consumption and wasteful spending are disguised as signs of growth, as though the gluttony of a few were a triumph for the many. The feast continues, but the famine is real.

Intertwined with these systems is Cronynomics, an economy guided by networks of family ties and political allies. Lucrative contracts and state projects fall into the hands of those “close to power,” not those with competence. In Cronynomics, greed is repackaged as loyalty, and corruption wears the mask of kinship, presenting nepotism as a legitimate business model for the nation.

Finally, Scamonomics exposes the dark art of economic deception, where trickery and outright fraud are elevated into a national pastime. Schemes, shady deals, and creative accounting flourish while the public bears the losses and insiders pocket the gains. In Scamonomics, the con becomes commerce, and everyone else is merely the mark.

Together, these -nomics reveal a portrait of an economy where greed, opportunism, and deception are not anomalies but the very pillars of the system itself.

Greedonomics, at its core, is not merely an economic model but a reflection of a deeper ideological shift in society. Ideologically, it champions individual accumulation of wealth as the ultimate moral and social good, redefining success in purely materialistic terms. In this worldview, the pursuit of personal gain is elevated above collective welfare, and ethical considerations are secondary at best. Greed is glorified as ambition, and ambition is equated with virtue.

Politically, Greedonomics thrives in systems where power is concentrated and accountability is weak. Leaders may justify extreme wealth accumulation as a driver of national growth, masking inequality under the rhetoric of development and efficiency. The political narrative often shifts blame onto the poor, framing them as lazy or undeserving, while the wealthy are portrayed as visionary and industrious. Elections, policymaking, and regulatory frameworks are subtly shaped to serve the interests of the rich, perpetuating cycles of privilege.

Socially, Greedonomics fosters stratification and alienation. Communities are fractured between those who prosper under the system and those left behind. Trust, once the glue of society, erodes as people perceive that connections and influence outweigh competence or merit. Social mobility becomes a myth, and resentment simmers quietly among the majority, who witness the elite dining lavishly while their needs are ignored.

Culturally, Greedonomics permeates everyday life through media, education, and popular culture. Consumerism and material success are celebrated as markers of status, while philanthropy and social responsibility are often framed as optional or performative. The culture of “more is better” infiltrates attitudes toward work, family, and social relationships, creating a society where appearances and wealth dictate value. Over time, this economic ideology shapes not just markets, but mindsets, redefining what it means to be successful, ethical, or even human.

Greedonomics is more than just an economic system; it is a lens through which ideology, politics, society, and culture converge, glorifying personal gain while masking its human and environmental costs..

In Indonesia, Greedonomics has found a fertile ground where oligarchs, politicians, and bureaucrats often treat the nation as their personal playground. Ideologically, it manifests in a culture that equates wealth with virtue and influence with wisdom, as if the ability to accumulate assets automatically grants moral authority. Public discourse frequently celebrates “success stories” of tycoons and political elites, while quietly ignoring the millions left struggling in informal sectors, rural villages, or urban slums.

Politically, Greedonomics thrives on networks of patronage and power. Policies are crafted not to uplift citizens but to safeguard the interests of those already in control. Projects, contracts, and public funds are channelled toward those who can navigate the corridors of power, rather than those who possess skill or merit. Elections and media narratives often highlight loyalty to powerful figures as a sign of civic virtue, while dissenting voices are dismissed as ungrateful or disruptive. The system transforms governance into a theatrical performance, where the wealthy and well-connected are always on stage, and the rest merely watch from the cheap seats.

Socially, the consequences are stark. Communities fracture as inequality becomes the norm rather than the exception. Education and employment opportunities are skewed in favour of children of the elite, leaving the majority struggling to climb a ladder that is both short and brittle. Trust erodes as people realise that influence, not competence, drives outcomes, creating an atmosphere where survival often depends on knowing the right person rather than working hard. Social resentment simmers quietly, occasionally erupting in protests or viral memes that mock the absurdity of the system.

Culturally, Greedonomics infiltrates everyday life. Popular media, from television shows to TikTok influencers, glorify luxury, ostentation, and conspicuous consumption. Consumerism becomes a cultural badge of honour, while ethical responsibility is trivialised or commodified as philanthropy for the cameras. Even language evolves: buzzwords like “strategic partnerships” and “value creation” often cloak self-interest and exploitation. In essence, greed is not just tolerated—it is celebrated as a national trait, woven into the very fabric of social identity.

Ultimately, Greedonomics in Indonesia is more than an economic pattern; it is an ideology, a political strategy, a social reality, and a cultural phenomenon. It glorifies accumulation, rewards loyalty over competence, and masks the cost borne by ordinary citizens and the environment, creating a society where wealth and influence determine not just opportunity, but dignity itself.

Several books echo the themes implied by President Prabowo’s notion of Serakahnomics, particularly those that criticise greed-driven capitalism and explore how unbridled economic ambition can distort societies. One such book is Capital in the Twenty-First Century by Thomas Piketty (Harvard University Press, 2014), which offers a thorough historical analysis of wealth inequality and warns that without regulation, capitalism tends to concentrate wealth in the hands of a few, thereby threatening democracy and social stability.

Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-First Century delivers a striking and comprehensive analysis of wealth and income inequality over the past few centuries. The central message of the book is that when the rate of return on capital consistently exceeds the rate of economic growth, wealth becomes increasingly concentrated in the hands of a small elite, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of inequality. Piketty argues that this process is not merely a temporary anomaly but a structural feature of capitalism unless countered by deliberate policy interventions, such as progressive taxation on wealth. He also challenges the idea that meritocracy alone can produce fair economic outcomes, emphasising that inherited wealth and systemic advantages often overshadow individual effort. The book ultimately serves as both a historical survey and a warning: if the trend continues unchecked, societies risk entrenching extreme disparities that undermine social cohesion and democratic principles.

Another relevant work is The Price of Inequality by Joseph E. Stiglitz (W.W. Norton, 2012), in which the Nobel laureate economist critiques how policies shaped by the wealthy elite have skewed the economy to benefit the rich while hollowing out the middle class. Stiglitz argues that this isn't just unfair—it’s economically inefficient and ultimately self-destructive.

Stiglitz argues that economic inequality is not merely a social injustice but also an economic inefficiency that harms everyone, including the wealthy. The core message is that when wealth and power are concentrated in the hands of a few, the rules of the economy are distorted to serve their interests, often through lobbying, favourable regulations, and tax policies. This concentration undermines competition, reduces social mobility, and slows overall economic growth. Stiglitz emphasises that extreme inequality erodes democracy itself, because political influence becomes tied to financial power rather than the will of the majority. Essentially, the “price” of inequality is multifaceted: it is the cost of slower growth, weakened social cohesion, wasted human potential, and the subtle yet profound corruption of democratic institutions.

Similarly, Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate (Simon & Schuster, 2014) targets the same structure of unchecked profit-seeking, but focuses on its environmental consequences. She contends that the logic of endless growth and corporate greed is incompatible with ecological survival, making climate change a crisis born out of economic ideology.

Imagine, if you will, that every coastline of Indonesia has been swallowed by reclamation projects, each sandy strip, each mangrove bay, now stamped with the logos of tycoons, oligarchs, and political allies. Through the lens of Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everything (2014, Simon & Schuster), one cannot help but see this as the ultimate triumph of Greedonomics over human and ecological common sense. Ideologically, the nation has been transformed into a theatre where wealth is worshipped above all else. The sacred idea of public space—once a playground for fishermen, families, and communities—is now redefined as private property, where only the holders of capital have the right to breathe the sea air.

Economically, the spectacle is both dazzling and horrifying. Reclaimed beaches become exclusive resorts and yacht clubs, while the traditional livelihoods of millions vanish beneath tonnes of concrete. The GDP may rise, investors cheer, and glossy reports celebrate the growth of “national assets,” yet for the majority, daily life becomes a survival game on the margins. One can almost hear the accountants cheering while fishermen, street vendors, and small traders scrounge for scraps along artificially narrowed coastlines. Wealth is concentrated, inequality is amplified, and the economy—ostensibly booming—thrives on dispossession.

Politically, the scene is a masterclass in power theatre. Policies, zoning laws, and environmental regulations are quietly rewritten to serve private interests. Politicians flaunt their roles as facilitators of “progress” while quietly collecting campaign contributions from the very same developers who now own the sand under citizens’ feet. Public consultation becomes a ceremonial nod; dissent is either co-opted or criminalised. In the Parliament, debates may continue, but along the shores, the message is clear: if you are not wealthy, you have no say.

Socially, the human cost is stark and surreal. Entire communities, once rooted in coastal traditions, are displaced. Children grow up learning that the beach is a commodity, not a playground; grandmothers lament mangroves that no longer exist, and fishermen teach their grandchildren how to navigate permits instead of tides. Trust, solidarity, and collective memory erode, replaced by resentment, envy, and a sense of exclusion. The social fabric becomes a patchwork of privilege versus dispossession, where neighbourly bonds are replaced by guarded access codes and private security patrols.

Culturally, the coastlines are now the stage of hyper-consumerism. Instagrammable luxury towers, infinity pools, and golf courses replace traditional festivals and community rituals. Even folklore about the sea becomes a marketing asset: mythical spirits are rebranded as mascots for real estate projects. The cultural narrative shifts from “our shared heritage” to “your personal experience,” commodifying nature, history, and memory alike. Greed becomes culture, and culture becomes a shopping mall with a view of the ocean.

In short, through Naomi Klein’s eyes, a fully reclaimed Indonesia is a nation where ideology, economics, politics, social structures, and culture all bend to the will of capital, leaving ordinary citizens stranded on the margins, their history submerged beneath concrete and ambition. The climate is ignored, the commons are lost, and the sea, once a symbol of life and livelihood, is now a playground for the few.

President Prabowo’s concept of Serakahnomics or Greedonomics and the book Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner (2006, B de Bolsillo) both explore the hidden mechanisms that drive human behaviour, but they do so from markedly different perspectives and with distinct intentions. Freakonomics applies the tools of economic analysis to uncover surprising patterns and incentives behind everyday actions. Levitt and Dubner ask unusual questions—such as why sumo wrestlers and teachers might cheat or how a person’s name can influence life outcomes—to reveal that human behaviour is often shaped by incentives in ways we do not immediately recognise. It is playful, investigative, and data-driven, aiming primarily to illuminate the hidden logic of the world rather than to moralise.

Freakonomics, written by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner, is a provocative and unconventional book that explores hidden aspects of everyday life through the lens of economic theory. Rather than examining traditional economic topics like inflation or trade, the authors investigate surprising questions using data analysis and behavioural insights. For example, they explore what schoolteachers and sumo wrestlers have in common, why drug dealers often live with their mothers, and how a person's name might affect their future success.

The core idea of Freakonomics is that incentives drive human behaviour and that, by digging beneath the surface, one can uncover the real motives behind actions that at first seem irrational. The authors argue that economics, at its heart, is not just about money, but about understanding how people respond to incentives, cheat, take risks, or act against their own interests.

The book blends storytelling with statistics, using real-world case studies and quirky experiments to illustrate its arguments. It challenges conventional wisdom and encourages readers to question everything—especially so-called experts. In doing so, Freakonomics becomes not just an economics book, but a book about thinking differently.

In contrast, Serakahnomics is a politically charged concept that focuses on the dangers of unbridled greed in economic systems. By coining this term, President Prabowo draws attention to how excessive self-interest, whether among corporations, elites, or policymakers, can corrode social trust, amplify inequality, and undermine the well-being of ordinary citizens. While Freakonomics dissects behaviour to understand why people act in certain ways, Serakahnomics condemns certain behaviours when they become systemic and destructive. Both approaches share an interest in revealing what lies beneath the surface: one through curiosity and empirical investigation, the other through moral and political critique.

Taken together, these two frameworks highlight the interplay between incentives and consequences. Freakonomics teaches that human actions often have hidden motives, while Serakahnomics warns that when greed becomes institutionalised, these motives can produce harmful societal outcomes. In this sense, reading Levitt and Dubner alongside Prabowo’s concept can enrich our understanding of human and economic behaviour, combining analytical insight with ethical reflection.

Together, these works provide a broader intellectual backdrop to the warning embedded in Serakahnomics—they all share a moral concern for the consequences of greed and advocate for systemic rethinking to restore balance between economy, equity, and ethics.

And in closing, viewed through the lens of Prabowo’s so-called Serakhnomics, the total reclamation of Indonesia’s coastlines becomes the ultimate showcase of “strategic wealth maximisation.” Here, the accumulation of private property and coastal assets is not just tolerated—it is actively celebrated as proof of economic vitality. Ideologically, the narrative suggests that the success of a few tycoons is, by extension, a sign of national strength, and any inconvenience to ordinary citizens is a necessary sacrifice on the altar of progress. In this worldview, greed is not a vice but a tool for nation-building.

Economically, Serakhnomics interprets concrete-strewn beaches as productivity in action. GDP figures rise, investor portfolios shine, and “national assets” expand under the careful stewardship of those who know how to grab first and grab big. The millions of displaced fishermen and small traders are quietly reframed as collateral damage—a minor inconvenience in a system where the growth of the elite is conflated with the growth of the nation. Reclamation is not destruction; it is development, and development is always good if it is controlled by the right hands.

Politically, Serakhnomics justifies the rewriting of laws, regulations, and zoning policies. Public consultation is reduced to a ritual checkbox, dissent is dismissed as naïveté, and loyalty becomes the currency that counts. Leaders become facilitators of the “creative redistribution” of coastline wealth, and the performance of governance focuses on the optics of growth and power consolidation rather than the well-being of ordinary citizens.

Socially, the impact is framed as a necessary recalibration of society. Communities displaced by luxury resorts are simply repositioned within the hierarchy of a Serakhnomic order. Education, opportunity, and mobility are selectively distributed, privileging those already close to capital, while the majority adjust to life on the margins. Alienation, resentment, and envy are treated as inevitable background noise in the theatre of national progress.

Culturally, the coastal transformation is celebrated in media, architecture, and lifestyle branding. The private ownership of formerly public beaches is marketed as modernity, sophistication, and status. Instagrammable luxury developments replace folklore and communal ritual, and greed is reframed as visionary entrepreneurship. In short, Serakhnomics turns what might otherwise be scandal or catastrophe into a badge of national pride, making exclusion, dispossession, and inequality look like the triumph of strategy.

In the end, Serakhnomics is more than an economic philosophy—it is a mirror reflecting the triumph of ambition over empathy, of accumulation over community, and of spectacle over substance. It turns public spaces into private prizes, social bonds into transactional relationships, and cultural heritage into marketable assets. The ideology glorifies those who can grab the most while teaching the rest to admire from the sidelines, to accept that the world’s riches are never meant for everyone. In this theatre of greed, morality is optional, fairness is a relic, and privilege is the only currency that truly matters. Serakhnomics, in all its audacious glory, reminds us that when greed becomes the measure of success, society itself becomes the collateral.

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