Thank You - Thank You - Thank You

An Open Letter in Reply to Mr Patrick Liew

To the Honourable Mr Patrick Liew, Entrepreneur, Investor, and Author of Southeast Asia’s Most Cheerfully Ironic Open Letter,

Thank you.

Thank you sincerely—not sarcastically, as in your letter. Thank you for showing us that a reduction of 31 MMSCFD from a total of 409.5 MMSCFD—roughly 8 per cent—can be transformed so swiftly into a geopolitical tragedy, a universal moral lesson, and an existential threat to Southeast Asian commerce.

We are impressed. Not everyone can turn a modest figure into a grand oration. That is a talent. 

On Your “Thank You”

You opened your letter with “thank you,” closed it with “thank you,” and scattered enough “thank yous” in between to make readers suspect that the phrase was not a courtesy but a weapon.

We admire the literary technique. Still, allow us to use the same style:

Thank you, Mr Patrick, for reminding us that sarcasm can be written at length, while facts remain rather short.

The Indonesian Government has stated that the reduction remains above the contractual minimum threshold of approximately 91–92 MMSCFD. The reduction itself is only 31 MMSCFD. So, before the world becomes “wary of doing business with Indonesia,” perhaps the world should first become more wary of reading contract annexes. 

On “A Bad Example of Leadership”

You said President Prabowo had shown the world how a government should not be run. We understand. From Singapore, everything may appear delightfully straightforward: there is gas, send gas; there is a contract, read the contract; there is criticism, write an open letter.

But in Indonesia, the government has a slightly different set of chores: keeping the lights on and industries running in Batam, Bintan and Sumatra; ensuring that citizens do not run short of energy; and managing facilities that occasionally require maintenance—not because they wish to needle a neighbour, but because pipelines and plants are not magical objects that never grow tired.

So perhaps the better example of leadership is not “never reduce exports,” but rather: prioritise one’s own people when supply is constrained, provided one still honours the contract.

On “Reputational Suicide”

You described Indonesia’s action as “reputational suicide.” We were almost shaken. Almost.

Then we looked at the figures supplied by Singapore itself: the Energy Market Authority said the total reduction amounted to 17 BBTUD over 18 days, or less than 2 per cent of Singapore’s daily gas demand.

So, if less than 2 per cent of gas demand can cause “reputational suicide,” we fear Singapore’s reputation must be extraordinarily fragile. Or, more politely: perhaps the phrase “reputational suicide” should be reviewed by your communications consultants.

On Covid-19 Assistance

You reminded us of Singapore’s assistance to Indonesia during the pandemic. We appreciate it, truly. Medical aid, vaccines and coordination during a crisis are memories that should not be forgotten.

But allow us to explain one simple point: humanitarian assistance is not a gas-subscription coupon.

If every past act of goodwill must be repaid with unlimited energy supplies, the world will become an exhausting place. Every country will keep receipts, record debts of gratitude, and later demand payment in kilowatts, cubic metres, or supermarket discounts.

Friendship should indeed be preserved. But healthy friendship does not require one party to keep exporting gas while its own people need electricity.

On “The World Will Be Wary”

You wrote that this episode has taught the world to be wiser and more cautious when doing business with Indonesia. We agree. The world should indeed be wise and cautious.

Cautious when reading contracts. Wise when calculating percentages. And exceptionally cautious when someone describes an 8 per cent reduction as a national catastrophe, while Singapore itself says the impact is less than 2 per cent of its daily gas demand.cnbcindonesia+1

If this is what is meant by “waking up the world,” then the world must have been sleeping very soundly. 

On “An Unreliable Country”

You implied that Indonesia is an unreliable partner. We understand the concern, but we would also like to remind you: a reliable country does not necessarily mean a country that must keep exporting gas until its own homes go dark.

Indonesia is still supplying the overwhelming majority of its contracted volumes. Of 409.5 MMSCFD, only 31 MMSCFD has been reduced. The remainder remains far above the contractual minimum.kompas+2

Therefore, if we may summarise this in business language, you will appreciate: this is not a default, not a breach of contract, and not necessarily reputational suicide. It is closer to a contract-compliant supply adjustment, accompanied by communication that may indeed need improvement.

One Thing We Acknowledge

We shall not defend everything blindly. One point in your letter deserves a serious answer: communication.

If a trading partner feels surprised, the government should explain more quickly: how long the adjustment will last, what the technical reasons are, when supply will be restored, and what contractual mechanisms apply. Singapore itself has noted that its gas importer may pursue contractual remedies.

That is not a sign that the world should fear Indonesia. It is a sign that commercial relations must be managed with data, contracts and communication—not merely with open letters full of “thank yous.”

So, Mr Patrick, once again: thank you.

Thank you for reminding us that international criticism is sometimes written faster than the contract figures are read. Thank you for showing that a small percentage of gas demand can become thousands of words. And thank you for allowing us to write a reply longer than strictly necessary.

We continue to respect Singapore as a neighbour, partner and friend. We remain committed to contracts, cooperation and a mutually beneficial relationship.

But we would like to close with one simple message:

Gas may be reduced temporarily. Contracts must still be honoured. But hasty conclusions? Those are the one export Indonesia would rather not send.

Thank you for your open letter. In return—politely, and with rather more rhyme—please accept these modest verses from Indonesia.

At dawn the birds drift toward the cloud,

A gentle breeze runs by the stream;

Thank you for words so clear and loud,

Though facts may differ from the theme.

From Natuna’s fields the gas flows far,

Across the sea to a neighbouring shore;

A small reduction is no war,

So long as contracts stand as before.

Four hundred and nine flow through the line,

Thirty-one alone are set aside;

Do not rush to fault or malign,

First read the limits both sides abide.

A pipeline needs its time to mend,

A plant may pause and take its rest;

The aim was never to offend,

But keep the home front safely blessed.

The lamps still glow in our own land,

Our industries continue on;

To guard one’s people is a command,

While honouring agreements not withdrawn.

The Covid aid shall not be lost,

It lives in memory and in prayer;

Yet kindness is not chains, whatever the cost,

Nor grounds to claim what is not there.

Two per cent of a nation’s need,

Became a storm that shook the earth;

Sarcasm is a lovely breed,

But numbers speak with greater worth.

An open letter sounds refined,

With “thank you” echoed time anew;

Yet wisdom asks a calmer mind:

Read every clause before you construe.

A neighbour dear we still esteem,

Through trade and trust our ties remain;

Gas may be adjusted, as it may seem,

So long as goodwill does not wane.

The bird returns to nest at night,

The sunset fades beyond the west;

Warm greetings from the archipelago’s light—

May reason guide us, and differences rest.

Yours respectfully,

Indonesians who believe that reading a contract is also part of diplomacy

The figures and claims in this letter refer to Indonesian government statements and Singaporean energy-authority remarks: total piped exports of 409.5 MMSCFD, a reduction of 31 MMSCFD or about 8 per cent, a contractual minimum of roughly 91–92 MMSCFD, and an impact on Singapore of less than 2 per cent of daily gas demand over 18 days.

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What Passport Does the Smoke Carry?

A satirical note on the hunt for Indonesia’s forest-fire culprits, who are always somewhere else

Whenever the sky over Singapore turns from blue to a yellowish grey, the nations of Southeast Asia suddenly become philosophers. The question is always the same, and always a deep one: who, exactly, lit the fire? The most popular answer, which arrives faster than the findings of any investigation, is that the culprit must be someone else. Preferably someone who lives far away, so there is no risk of bumping into them at the corner café.

So in October 2026, when haze from southern Sumatra and Kalimantan once again drifted across to that tidy island state, a new rumour began circulating in family WhatsApp groups. Apparently, it said, many of the companies behind the fires were based in Singapore. The rumour had every ingredient that fast-spreading rumours like: a foreign party, a dash of irritation, and not a single link to a source. It was forwarded with three exclamation marks and a noble plea at the end: share before it gets deleted. 

A Passport Nobody Ever Checks

Let us examine the rumour with the diligence of an immigration officer, for the truth, like an important visitor, ought to have its papers inspected. What actually happened is the reverse of the rumour. The Singapore government, through its environment agency, is investigating companies suspected of links to hotspots in Indonesia. Preliminary findings named seven companies, and eight senior executives representing ten companies were summoned to give explanations. Eight people representing ten companies is the sort of efficiency any bureaucracy might envy, though that was probably not what the summoners had in mind.

So those in Singapore are not the suspects but the investigators. Even so, this can still confuse us, because some of the companies under scrutiny do have ties to that country. Here the WhatsApp rumour found a small seed of truth, which it promptly grew into a tree of conclusions as tall as a mobile mast. 

Ownership, Russian-Doll Style

The small seed of truth is this. The plantation business has mastered an art of ownership that resembles a set of Russian nesting dolls. On the outside sits an Indonesian company, a PT, where the plantations and mills are located. That PT is owned by a company ending in Pte Ltd in Singapore. That company is owned by a parent in a place whose name sounds like a honeymoon destination. The parent is owned by a foundation, and the foundation is owned by a man who, once every doll has been opened, turns out to live on a housing estate in South Jakarta, with fishing as his hobby.

In 2019, an Indonesian official explained something similar. According to him, a number of palm oil companies listed on the Singapore exchange were in fact owned by Indonesians. In other words, the smoke comes from Indonesia, the shares are traded in Singapore, the owners are Indonesian, and the coughing is shared out equally among everyone who breathes it in. It may be the only form of ASEAN economic integration that runs completely smoothly, free of non-tariff barriers.

As a wholly invented example, imagine PT Kabut Abadi Sejahtera Tbk. Its head office is in a glass tower whose air conditioning is so cold that its staff never learn that the sky outside is grey. Its shareholders are scattered across three countries and four time zones. The only party whose nationality cannot be determined is the smoke, and that is only because smoke has never applied for a passport. 

The Shy Flame

We come now to the question that most tests common sense: who lit the fire? Here satire runs out of material, because reality has already been working hard. Fire, as understood in the long tradition of self-defence, is a shy creature. It never turns up when sought and always turns up when unwelcome. It seldom admits to being anyone’s delivery, preferring to describe itself as an uninvited guest that wandered over from the neighbouring plot.

A fictional spokesperson for PT Kabut Abadi Sejahtera would explain, with a concerned expression and a well-rehearsed tone, that the fire came from the neighbour’s land. The neighbour, through its own spokesperson, would explain that it came from the land next door. This chain of explanation carries on from concession to concession and village to village, until it arrives at a tract of forest that is administratively owned by a party named Nobody At All. We thereby learn that Nobody At All is the largest landowner in the republic, and also the most consistent suspect in the history of forest fires.

Unfortunately for the defenders of the shy flame, times have changed. Satellites cannot be negotiated with. They do not do pleasantries, accept coffee or care about family ties. They simply record that on such a date, at such coordinates, there was a hotspot, and then match it against the concession map. A map, as we know, is the most unfeeling document in the world after the electricity bill. 

The Task Force: Cure for All Ills

Faced with a matter this complicated, two countries took a step typical of civilised nations: they formed a joint task force. In our part of the world such as Indonesia, the task force is a kind of talisman. If the problem is big, set up a task force. If it is very complicated, set up a task force with members from two countries. And if the problem has dragged on for years, give the task force an acronym that rolls nicely off the tongue at press conferences. Indonesia welcomed Singapore’s offer to share data, and here we must be fair: cooperation of this kind is progress, far better than lobbing protest notes at each other across the strait.

Still, it would be as well to remind the task force of one small thing. The people breathing the smoke are not spectators at a hearing. They are not waiting for two ministries to polish the wording of a joint statement. They are waiting for a sky they can see from the window, something that in some villages in Sumatra and Kalimantan has become a fond memory, like the sweets of childhood.

Meanwhile, the business owners have said they are ready to cooperate, which should of course be noted with a charitable presumption. Nothing is more heartening than a company willing to help investigate fires on land it manages. We can only hope the help is as sincere as their dismay at the damage to air quality, which surely plagues the directors too each time they drive to the office. 

Those Who Always Know Their Nationality

Amid all this confusion over who belongs to which country, one party is never confused: the lungs. The lungs of a primary-school child in Palangkaraya, a market trader in Palembang and an office worker in Jurong West alike do not care which exchange a company is listed on. They know only one thing, which is that today’s air feels like breathing in exhaust fumes. N95 masks, for their part, work across borders without needing a visa.

Perhaps that is the lesson. Smoke carries no passport, but responsibility holds a double passport, even a triple one, and travels very well to everywhere except the address we are looking for. We can go on debating whether the culprit is from here or from there, a local company or a foreign parent, a corporation or Nobody At All. But good law does not ask whose passport is held; it asks who has a duty to keep that land from burning.

We must, of course, remain honest. The investigation is not finished, and until there is a ruling, no company should be branded guilty merely because its name appears in a headline or a WhatsApp group. The presumption of innocence applies even to companies whose land is smouldering. But that principle must not become a blanket for covering up the fact that every year we replay the same scene: fire, smoke, finger-pointing, meetings, a task force, and then the rain arrives and everyone quietly feels the matter is settled. Until the next dry season, when the same philosophical question is reopened: who lit that fire?

Note: this is satire. All characters and companies in it are invented, and any resemblance to real names is coincidental. The setting draws on reporting from October 2026 about the Singapore government’s investigation into companies suspected of links to forest and land fires (karhutla) in Indonesia, and the joint task force set up by the two countries. That investigation is still under way and has not produced a ruling against anyone.

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