JAKARTA - Over a decade ago, the Indonesian national team had the darkest period in its history.
For much of 2015, it wasn’t losing matches so much as being absent from them. A FIFA suspension tied to government interference had frozen the team out of international football and left players without competitive fixtures and the country without a place on the Asian map. The FIFA ranking slid all the way down to 191st, effectively one of the lowest-performing teams in Asia.
Then, at the ASEAN Championship (known as the AFF Championship at the time) of 2016, Alfred Riedl’s men suffered a 2-0 loss to Thailand at the second leg of the final despite a 2-1 win in the first leg at Gelora Bung Karno, Jakarta.
“This suspension caused the national team to lose its sense of direction. It was compounded by the lack of clear player regeneration, with no proper transition from older players to younger ones, and by a continued decline in hope and public concern for the team,” recalled Damanta Pasha, a Timnas fan who’s been following the team closely.
“Wins began to feel like a surprise, while losses were seen as normal.”
Now a decade later, Indonesia is at a different place. This time, a lot of new, fresh faces with European facial features but Indonesia at heart were brought in. Between 2020 and 2025, Indonesia’s Football Association (PSSI) naturalized more than 20 foreign-born football players, most of them Dutch-Indonesian descendants of the mixed-heritage Indos.
Indonesia jumped from FIFA rank 173 to 122 in five years, qualified for the Asian Cup for the first time since 2007, and reached the fourth round of World Cup qualifying, the deepest run in Garuda's history.
Under South Korea’s Shin Tae-yong, the national team built a competitive squad around these heritage players, and Indonesian fans celebrated what *felt *like a genuine turnaround.
The Indonesia-Netherlands Connection
The historical ties between Indonesia and the Netherlands stretch back over four centuries to 1595, when explorer Cornelis de Houtman and the Dutch East India Company (VOC) first docked at the port of Banten.
But what began as a trading relationship would turn into hundreds of years of Dutch colonial dominance, marked by systemic exploitation, coerced labor practices, and brutal suppression of local populations.
Following Indonesia’s declaration of independence in 1945, anti-Dutch sentiment swept across the mega archipelago. The period known as “Bersiap,” an Indonesian term meaning “get ready” or “be prepared,” became one of the most violent chapters in the transition from colonial rule to Indonesia’s very own nationhood.
Between 1945 and 1946, widespread attacks targeted Dutch civilians, Indo-Europeans (those of mixed Dutch-Indonesian descent, or the “Indo” people), and anyone perceived as collaborators with the colonial regime. Their option was either to stay in Indonesia and face persecution or migrate.
“Every day, people who "looked Dutch" were killed,” said historian Dr. Harto Juwono, a professor in the History undergraduate program at Sebelas Maret University’s Faculty of Cultural Sciences.
“In Depok, there was a mass killing. Hundreds of men were detained at the station, women and children were separated. They were only liberated a week later when Allied forces (the British) landed in October 1945. There are many reports of massacres, rapes, and murders of Dutch civilians at that time.”
Jakarta has never officially recognised the Bersiap period, and although anti-Dutch state policies effectively ended in 1966, the episode remains politically and emotionally unresolved.
The Indo community in the Netherlands, among others, built new lives while maintaining remnants of Indonesian culture. They passed down stories, recipes, and language to children and grandchildren who would grow up fully Dutch. Many of these families kept some connection to their Indonesian roots, but it often faded across generations.
Though, it would be too reductive to call today’s naturalised players “grandchildren of Bersiap,” but the timeline itself makes one thing clear that many of their family histories (or hundreds of thousands of other Indos) almost certainly pass through that rupture, in one form or another.
Priscilla McMullen, a Jakarta-born Indo, has spent years to preserve and promote Indo identity through her work as chair of The Indo Project, a non-profit organisation dedicated to documenting the community’s history and cultural legacy.
Born in 1949, in the last legal afterlife of the Dutch East Indies, her father was a senior engineer who would later be pushed out as Indonesia’s first president Sukarno nationalised the nation’s infrastructure.
Her mother, meanwhile, was an Ambonese from Maluku, a background that also appears across many of Indonesia’s naturalised players, including Eliano Reijnders, Kevin Diks, Stefano Lilipaly, and even women’s national team player Estella Loupatty, who all trace roots to Maluku.
She says that the first and second generations of Indos usually learned to stay quiet about Indonesia as they carry the scars of the Bersiap violence, and the long trauma of revolution. But the later generations are different. They wear those same roots, but as a badge of pride instead of burden, and they flip inherited years of pain and agony into something closer to pride and open ownership.
“The Indos of the early time downplayed our heritage, downplayed our Indonesian side. And I wanted The Indo Project to be inclusive rather than exclusive, meaning talking about our roots in the former Dutch East Indies,” McMullen says.
The great-grandchildren of those who left in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s speak Dutch, not Indonesian. They grew up with rijsttafel at family gatherings because it was what remained.
And now, Indonesia seems to want their forgotten grandchildren back.
“Going back to these athletes, [I think] they’re mostly third and fourth generation young people. They have a totally different concept of Indonesia. They’ve been told that’s where their grandparents are from, but the "bad things," they hardly hear about because it’s too painful for their parents to talk about.” McMullen says.
“So in a way, most of the Dutch Indos, who sometimes don’t even look Indo, have a curiosity about their ancestry because they don’t have that painful background within them.”
How to Be an Indonesian, the Football Way
Due to its single nationality law, Indonesia is perhaps among the strictest when it comes to nationality. It’s among the 50-something countries in the world that allows only one citizenship for its people.
Under FIFA’s Regulations Governing the Application of the FIFA Statutes, a player can switch national teams if they already hold the nationality of the new country. They must not have played in a major finals tournament (such as the World Cup or continental championships like the AFC Asian Cup or the EUROS).
They must also meet one condition. They either never played a senior competitive match for the first team, or they played no more than three senior matches (cap-tied), were under 21 at their last cap, already had the second nationality at the time, and waited at least three years since their last appearance.
FIFA allows only one switch per player, and it must be formally approved.
Indonesia primarily adheres to the principle of jus sanguinis, which determines a child’s citizenship based on their parents. If a child has an Indonesian parent and is born overseas, they have the right to own both Indonesian and their country of residence until they turn 21. And if they choose the other citizenship, they would have to renounce it if they want to become an Indonesian.
“In the past, Indonesia was one of the few places that required "name changes" for those of foreign descent. That policy has faded since the Citizenship Law. Now, someone with a foreign name can be a citizen and even hold high bureaucratic office,” Dr. Juwono said.
However, Indonesia’s citizenship law does not recognise ancestry beyond parents as an automatic basis for nationality, making it difficult for those with Indonesian heritage through their grandparents.
Under FIFA rules, a player with at least one grandparent born in Indonesia is eligible to represent the national team. But “eligibility” alone is not enough, and FIFA’s law does not equal citizenship. Because Indonesia does not recognise dual citizenship, the player must still undergo full naturalisation under Indonesian law.
And to be an Indonesian the football way, a lot of back-and-forth legal procedures are needed between the PSSI, Indonesia's Ministry of Law and Human Rights, the House of Representatives (DPR RI), and the Indonesian President. Most of the time, it’s politically sensitive.
It starts with the PSSI collecting and verifying lineage documents, such as birth certificates of parents and grandparents, as well as family records, before submitting the application to the Ministry of Law and Human Rights.
Once the administrative review is cleared and the case is deemed to serve the national interest (sporting achievement), it is brought to the House of Representatives (DPR RI) for approval. If endorsed, the President issues a Presidential Decree granting citizenship.
The final steps are the oath of allegiance and the renunciation of the player’s previous nationality, after which the PSSI registers the player with FIFA.
The Results Are Real
A football-crazed nation, Indonesian fans wanted results. They wanted it now, and they wanted it fast after a hollow period from early to mid 2010s. The country went from FIFA suspension in 2015 to legitimate regional contender by 2025.
“A clearer coaching direction, continuous youth regeneration, needs-based naturalization, and improvements in mentality and game identity have made the audience no longer just hopeful, but emotionally involved in the process,” Pasha said.
“Even defeat is acceptable as long as progress is visible, and pride comes not only from the results, but from the belief that the Indonesian national team is truly heading towards something better.”
The national team qualified for the 2023 Asian Cup, marking their return to the tournament. While Indonesia had appeared in the 2007 Asian Cup as co-host, the 2023 qualification came through actual merit rather than automatic entry. The team reached the Round of 16 before losing to Australia. The FIFA ranking climbed from 173 in 2020 to 123 by April 2025.
The U-23 team reached the semifinals of the 2024 AFC U-23 Asian Cup and won gold at the 2023 SEA Games in Cambodia, their first SEA Games football gold since 1991.
In the world’s biggest stage, Indonesia made it to the fourth round of the 2026 World Cup qualifiers, further than the country has ever reached. Against Southeast Asian rivals who used to beat Indonesia routinely, the team started winning instead of just competing.
For Ardygha Mazzaka, another fan, Indonesia’s most memorable moment was the national team’s 2–0 victory over World Cup regulars Saudi Arabia in Jakarta in the third round of the World Cup qualifiers.
“Playing at the Gelora Bung Karno Stadium made the Indonesian national team even stronger that day. We won 2–0 against a team that could be considered the favorites. Marselino (Ferdinan) lifted Indonesia’s hopes with his two goals, but unfortunately, in the end, we also had to suffer defeat against Saudi Arabia (in the fourth round),” he said.
The roster reads like a map of the Indo diaspora across Europe. Players with parental connections to Indonesia include Calvin Verdonk (now playing for Lille in France), Shayne Pattynama (Persija Jakarta), Eliano Reijnders (Persib Bandung), Kevin Diks (Borussia Munchengladbach in Germany), Emil Audero (Cremonese in Italy), Mees Hilgers (FC Twente in the Netherlands), and Joel Pelupessy (Lommel SK in Belgium).
Those with grandparent connections include Jay Idzes (playing for Sassuolo in Italy), Sandy Walsh (Buriram United in Thailand), Jordi Amat (Persija Jakarta), Justin Hubner (Fortuna Sittard in the Netherlands), Thom Haye (Persib Bandung), Ragnar Oratmangoen (FC Dender in Belgium), Nathan Tjoe-A-On (Willem II), Ivar Jenner (Dewa United), Rafael Struick (Dewa United), Dean James (Go Ahead Eagles), and Jens Raven (Bali United).
Some connections reach back even further. Maarten Paes (Ajax Amsterdam) and Ole Ter Haar Romeny (Oxford United) qualify as descendants of “blijvers,” Europeans in the Dutch East Indies who chose to stay in the colony permanently, rather than return to Europe after their work was done.
Players like Marc Klok earned their eligibility through five consecutive years of residency in Indonesia, similar to the long careers of veteran foreign strikers like Ciro Alves and David da Silva in the Indonesian Super League.
A Drying Regeneration
While the naturalisation of ready-made players from Europe’s top leagues has been prioritised over long-term youth development, many now question the strategy’s sustainability as the pool of eligible candidates continues to shrink.
“The reason why they haven’t grown is because of that mentality of, "Let’s just hire and pay a lot of money to these athletes from overseas in the Netherlands." And then when they get old, what do you do? You’re back to doing the same thing. You have not developed your program, you have not developed your [local] players,” McMullen says.
Affordable futsal courts are available across the country, including in smaller cities, remaining lit under harsh fluorescent lights until midnight. With entry costs as low as Rp15,000 and a group of friends, the sport is widely accessible. For many, earning a place on their school’s futsal extracurricular team is considered a badge of honour.
By December 2025, Indonesia had climbed to 24th in the world rankings, a position earned through years of steady, deliberate development. Not too long ago, the national team went toe-to-toe with Asian powerhouse Iran in the 2026 Asian Cup final and traded goals in a breathless 5–5 thriller at Indonesia Arena in Jakarta before finally falling on penalties.
Badminton is even more impressive. Indonesia is the most successful nation in Thomas Cup history with 14 titles, and has produced Olympic champions from Susi Susanti in 1992 and Taufik Hidayat in 2004 to Greysia Polii and Apriyani Rahayu in Tokyo 2020. That’s because development programs run deep across the country and Indonesia consistently produces world-class players and it’s been that way for decades.
Football, despite its popularity, lacks organizational foundations that match that devotion. The Kanjuruhan Stadium disaster in October 2022, which killed 135 people when police fired tear gas into a packed stadium, was only the tip of the iceberg of deeper institutional failures.
For decades, corruption has been rampant in Indonesian football. Years and decades of match-fixing, corruption, deliberate mix of football and politics have somewhat poised what could have been a quality competition.
Back in 1998, fifteen PSSI referees were convicted of match-fixing. Nearly a decade later, federation chairman Nurdin Halid ran Indonesian football from his prison cell until 2011. Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) accused PSSI management of stealing Rp720 billion (roughly US$50 million) from the state budget, also in 2011.
Then, in December 2018, an executive was caught on tape offering a coach ten thousand dollars to throw a second-division match. By February 2019, acting president Joko Driyono was being questioned by police for allegedly destroying match-fixing evidence. Four years later in 2023, an Anti-Football Mafia Task Force was formed and charged more than a dozen individuals with extortion, score manipulation, and tampering with evidence.
“Positive or negative [of the naturalization project] is relative and depends on the objective. For now, I lean toward 50–50. But rather than comparing them, it’s better to place diaspora player recruitment alongside grassroots development, because to upgrade the squad quickly so it can compete, naturalization is indeed a fast and short-term solution,” said Nugra Adnanta, another Garuda Team fan.
“However, for the sake of maintaining that quality, and as a sustainable long-term plan, structured grassroots development and proper development at all levels are also very necessary.”
The naturalization program bought Indonesia time and results, but it also let the federation avoid harder conversation about why the country is unable to produce these players domestically. It allowed everyone to celebrate success without addressing the structural problems that made recruiting foreign-born players necessary in the first place.
The Indonesian national team is better now than it has been in decades. The die-hard fans are happy and the FIFA ranking keeps climbing despite a few hiccups here and there. By those measures, the naturalization program is working exactly as intended.
But whether this is an actual rebirth or just something to mask a hollow grassroots development, that’s another story.
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