Jakarta. By any visible metric, President Prabowo Subianto has embraced the role of a foreign policy president. He has traveled relentlessly, projecting Indonesia onto the global stage with a vigor unseen in recent administrations. Since taking office in October 2024, he has logged dozens of overseas visits—more than 50 by some counts—across nearly 30 countries, spending months abroad in pursuit of trade deals, strategic partnerships and geopolitical relevance.

The message is clear: Indonesia is open for business, open for diplomacy, and open to friendship. The guiding principle, inherited from earlier leaders but amplified under Prabowo, is simple—“a thousand friends, zero enemies.”

But diplomacy, like friendship, is not measured by quantity alone. Behind the optics of tireless travel and expansive outreach lies a quieter, less visible reality: Indonesia’s foreign policy may be far more selective than advertised.

In theory, Prabowo’s approach reflects Indonesia’s long-standing “free and active” doctrine—non-aligned, pragmatic, and flexible in navigating a multipolar world. In practice, however, access appears uneven. Conversations with diplomats in Jakarta suggest a growing gap between Indonesia’s global ambitions and its day-to-day diplomatic engagement. Some foreign missions report difficulty securing meetings with senior officials, even after formal requests. Letters go unanswered. Invitations linger without reply.

This is not unusual in diplomacy; access is always curated. But the pattern raises a question: if Indonesia seeks to befriend “as many countries as possible,” why do some partners feel shut out?

Part of the answer lies in priorities. Prabowo’s diplomacy is not merely about visibility—it is deeply transactional. Analysts note that his foreign engagements are driven heavily by economic objectives: securing investment, opening markets, and strengthening Indonesia’s position in global supply chains. His own defense of frequent travel underscores this logic—high-level, leader-to-leader negotiations are sometimes necessary to break deadlocks and secure tangible gains.

This helps explain why certain countries receive repeated attention. Major economic and strategic partners—China, the United States, the United Arab Emirates, and key European economies—feature prominently in his travel schedule. These relationships promise capital, technology, or geopolitical leverage. Others, particularly smaller or less economically significant partners, may find themselves lower on the priority list.

Such selectivity is not inherently problematic. Every country practices it. Foreign policy, after all, is an exercise in choosing where to invest limited time and political capital. But Indonesia’s branding as universally open risks clashing with the lived experience of diplomats who find doors harder to open than rhetoric suggests.

There is also a structural dimension. Prabowo has taken a more centralized and personal approach to diplomacy than his predecessor, Joko Widodo, who often delegated foreign policy to his ministers. By contrast, Prabowo appears to concentrate decision-making at the top—reinforced by his appointment of a close political ally, Sugiono, as foreign minister.

This centralization can create bottlenecks. When access depends heavily on a small circle of decision-makers, diplomatic engagement becomes less predictable. Requests that might once have been handled at lower levels now require top-level attention—and are more easily delayed or ignored.

The result is a paradox. Indonesia is more globally active than ever, yet not necessarily more accessible.

To be sure, Prabowo’s strategy has yielded results. Indonesia has expanded its economic partnerships, joined new multilateral groupings like BRICS, and positioned itself as a key player in a shifting global order. His defenders argue that in an era of great-power competition, selective engagement is not a flaw but a necessity.

Still, diplomacy is not only about headline agreements or high-level summits. It is also about consistency, responsiveness, and trust—the slow, often invisible work of maintaining relationships across a wide network of partners. If smaller or less prioritized countries begin to feel overlooked, Indonesia risks narrowing the very circle of friendship it seeks to expand.

The tension, then, is not between openness and selectivity, but between aspiration and execution. Indonesia wants to be everywhere, with everyone. But even a president who travels constantly cannot be equally present for all.

In the end, Prabowo’s foreign policy may be best understood not as “many friends,” but as carefully chosen ones. The question is whether Indonesia can sustain its image as an inclusive global actor while practicing an increasingly selective diplomacy.

For now, the answer remains unsettled—somewhere between the crowded itinerary of a globe-trotting president and the unanswered letters sitting in diplomatic inboxes in Jakarta.

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The opinion article is authored by Muhammad Zulfikar Rakhmat, Director of the China-Indonesia Desk, CELIOS.

The views expressed in this article are those of the authors.

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