The world is getting more fucked up as it is. And I’m not going to pretend sitting here, like I have some grand answer for that. I don’t. Nobody does, I think. The people who say they do? Usually the ones making it worse.

I’ve been thinking about this though. What “doing good” actually means when everything feels like it’s falling apart. You scroll your phone, every headline sounds like a countdown to something bad. The noise is so much louder than anything real. The whole system feels designed to keep you anxious, distracted, small.

And I keep coming back to the same place.

I think it’s not some big, heroic thing.

It’s not building a movement. It’s not going viral with the right message at the right time. It’s not saving the world in some dramatic, Marvel cinematic kind of way.

It’s quieter than that.

I think the most important thing we can do is protect our family. Our kids. Not shelter them from everything. Not hide them from how messy it all is. But prepare them. Give them what they need so when the world comes at them hard, and it will, they don’t fall apart. They stand.

I want my kids to be decent people. Sounds basic, right? But it’s not. Not in a time where decency is a luxury. Not when the world rewards being loud over being real, outrage over actually understanding anything, shortcuts over doing things right. Raising someone decent in all this? That’s resistance. Real resistance.

I want them to be smart. Not just school smart or street smart. Wise. The kind of smart that knows when to talk and when to shut up and listen. That can deal with things being complicated without needing everything to be certain right away.

I want them to be composed. The world’s going to test them. People will push their buttons. Systems will frustrate the hell out of them. But the ones who hold steady without losing who they are? Those are the people who actually change things. Not the loudest person. The steady one.

I want them strong. Not the fake kind that pretends nothing hurts. That’s bullshit we feed boys especially, and it destroys them. I mean the kind of strong where you break, and then you come back. You fall, you get up. You don’t make a whole personality out of either one. You just do it. Over and over and over.

I want them to have empathy. Real empathy. The kind that actually sees people. That can sit with someone else’s pain without trying to fix it, without making it about themselves. Understanding everyone’s dealing with shit you can’t see. That the world is hard for all of us, just in different ways. 

Empathy keeps us human when everything’s trying to turn us into algorithms. Into reactions. Into tribes, groups, segments. It’s what lets you disagree with someone and still see them as a person. It stops you from turning into the thing you hate.

Here’s what I keep coming back to.

Maybe that’s all we can do.

Maybe that’s enough.

Because when I look at the state of things, the political mess, the economic anxiety, the wars, the algorithms feeding us rage every morning. I can’t fix any of that. Not really. Not in any way that matters at scale.

But I can raise people who are better than what this world is trying to turn them into.

I’m far from them most of the time now. Different city. Different timezone. Most nights I’m not there.

But when I get home, when I’m with them, I’m all in. I sit with my kids at dinner and actually ask about their day. Not going through the motions. Actually asking. Actually listening. I let them see what it looks like when a man says he doesn’t know something. When he admits he was wrong and it’s not the end of the world. When he picks patience over reacting. Being kind over being right.

Distance doesn’t let me off the hook. If anything, it makes the time count more. They need to see it, not just hear me talk about it. Watch how I handle things when they don’t go my way. How I treat people when nobody important is looking. How I deal with failing at stuff.

I can’t raise them just by being around. I have to raise them by being present. And when I’m there, I’m there.

It’s not small. Because it has ripples.

We all have been shown that doing good has to be big. That it has to be visible, scalable, shareable. We’ve been sold this version of impact that looks like TED talks and viral campaigns and million-dollar foundations. That stuff matters, sure. I’m not saying it doesn’t.

But most of the real good I’ve seen? Done by people who got zero credit. Parents who just showed up. Teachers who stayed late. Friends who called when it mattered. People who held the line when it would’ve been easier to walk away.

The world doesn’t celebrate that. But the world is built on it.

So, yeah. I don’t have a manifesto. I don’t have a five-step plan to fix everything. I’m not even right some of the time.

What I’ve got is this.

Show up for your people. Raise kids who are decent, smart, composed, strong enough to stand when everything’s coming at them. Be someone they can look at and think, “Okay, that’s how you do it. Not perfect. But real.”

That’s what we can do.

And I’m starting to believe that’s not a compromise. It’s not settling for less because the big problems are too big.

It’s the actual answer.

The world changes one dinner table at a time. One real conversation at a time. One kid who grows up knowing that strength isn’t about dominance, it’s about presence.

I don’t have this figured out. I’m still learning.

But I know this much. In a world this fucked up, raising good humans isn’t the second prize.

It’s everything. It’s the whole game.

Building gives me direction. It gives shape to my days. There’s something deeply human in creating something that didn’t exist before. A sense that our effort can turn into something meaningful.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about the cost of momentum. How moving fast and far can blur your own reflection. How the builder, so focused on what’s ahead, sometimes forgets to look at who they’re becoming in the process.

This isn’t guilt, nor self-criticism wearing the mask of wisdom. It’s more like an awareness mirror that doesn’t flatter or judge. Just quietly trying to contemplate what’s there when the noise fades.

The longer I build, the more I realise: our strength and weakness are often the same muscle, just used beyond its limit.

Possibilities always drawn me in.

I can’t look at something without imagining what it could become, a new system, a clearer strategy, a better way to connect dots that others haven’t noticed yet. It’s thrilling. And it’s exhausting.

Vision is beautiful when it guides you. But sometimes it pulls you faster than others can follow, or spreads you thinner than your own time allows.

There have been moments, usually after a long day, around midnight, surrounded by half-finished slides and half-formed ideas, when I realise I’ve built too many things at once. Each one meaningful, but all competing for oxygen. Sometimes, my wife asks me a simple question at dinner, and I have to ask her to repeat it. Twice.

Vision gives me energy. But it also tempts me to forget that even the brightest stars need gravity to stay in orbit.

It is always hard for me to leave work things as “good enough.”

If something carries my name or touch, I want it to feel alive, thoughtful, beautiful. I rewrite sentences no one will notice. I rework decks that are already done. A misaligned slide feels physical to me, like something I can’t unsee. My hand itches to fix slightly uncentered lines from the presentation.

At its best, that’s respect for the work. At its worst, it’s pride disguised as perfectionism.

I used to tell myself I was protecting the standard. Maybe sometimes, I was just protecting my comfort zone. That feeling of control that comes from fixing rather than trusting.

Excellence, I’m learning, isn’t about polishing endlessly. It’s about knowing when something already speaks clearly enough, and when it’s time to let others speak, even if not in my tone.

Solitude has always been my companion.

I think best in silence. Early mornings, when everything is still, thoughts unspooling into patterns. It’s where essays draft and outline get written, frameworks take shape, meaning gets made.

But solitude can harden into distance.

When ideas live too long in my head before I share them, they become too precious, too polished. Others then feel like visitors to something already built, instead of co-creators shaping it with me. I come back with something complete but remote. Something that feels less like ours and more like mine.

I’ve learned that shared thinking isn’t a compromise. It’s an act of trust.

Letting people into the messy middle isn’t weakness. It’s leadership of a different kind.

Sometimes I can’t help myself. Even in casual conversations, my brain starts drawing frameworks.

Patterns calm me. Systems make sense of chaos. Productivity. Platforms. How the universe works. My brain just does this, finds the pattern, draws the boxes, labels the axes.

But life, .. and people, don’t always want to be diagrammed.

Sometimes my kids just want to tell me about their day without me accidentally categorizing their feelings into mapped problem that need to be solved. Someone shares a struggle, and I’m already building the mental model, mapping the variables, offering the system. When really, they just needed me to say: “That sounds hard. I’m here.”

Maybe, the best answer isn’t a model or a process. It’s presence. It’s being still enough to listen without trying to fix or formalize.

I’m learning that not every question needs a framework. Some just need space.

I care deeply, maybe too deeply sometimes. About people, about meaning, about the quiet things that hold teams together when the metrics don’t. About whether the work matters, whether it helps, whether it leaves things better than I found them.

That care fuels me. But it also drains me when carried alone.

There’s a kind of compassion fatigue that comes from holding everyone else’s worries while quietly ignoring your own. Like carrying water for everyone, until your own cup runs dry. I’ve said yes when I meant “not right now.” I’ve absorbed team anxieties like a sponge, believing that’s what good leaders do.

Care is powerful only when it includes the self.

And learning that isn’t selfish, it’s survival.

I don’t have this figured out. I’m not writing from the other side, looking back with clarity. I’m writing from the middle, where the work of knowing yourself never really ends.

But here’s what I’m learning, gently, imperfectly:

I’m learning to finish before I begin again. To let others be imperfect beside me sometimes. To speak ideas earlier, not just after I’ve made them whole. To choose simplicity when complexity tempts me. To rest, not as escape, but as renewal.

Maybe growing up isn’t about fixing our flaws. Maybe it’s about befriending them. Learning to walk with our shadows, not ahead of them.

I’m still building. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. It’s who I am. Someone who finds meaning in creation.

But I’m learning to pause more often, to hold the mirror steady.

Every builder needs that mirror, not to question their worth, but to remember their wholeness.

I’m grateful for this remembrance for self. For the people who’ve reminded me when I drifted too far into my own orbit. For the moments of stillness that forced me to see what speed had hidden.

I’ll keep building. Just a little slower. A little kinder. And, I hope, a little wiser.

There’s a peculiar silence that settles over Yangon just before dawn. The city holds its breath, temples glowing softly in the half-light, tea shops still shuttered, the Irrawaddy river moving in slow, heavy silence. In those quiet hours, before the first phone call or crisis of the day, I sometimes ask myself: What exactly am I doing here?

As an Indonesian stepping into the role of Chief Marketing Officer for a telco in Myanmar, I thought I understood complexity. I’ve managed large teams, launched products across a sprawling archipelago, wrestled with regulators and competitors. But Myanmar… Myanmar is a different kind of puzzle altogether. Here, the rules aren’t just different. Sometimes they don’t exist at all, or they change overnight without warning.

The Ground Beneath You is Never Still

The first lesson you learn here is that nothing is truly stable. Politics isn’t background noise. It’s the weather system you live inside. A storm can arrive overnight, a new decree, a network restriction, an entire region suddenly declared off-limits because fighting has flared up again. I’ve had revenue drop from certain area in a single day because a township went dark.

Our field teams sometimes travel into areas where the road may not be safe, the tower might be gone, and the local authority might not even exist anymore.

When you plan a campaign here, you don’t just set dates and budgets. You plan alternate routes, backup generators, and crisis communications for the day the power goes out, because it will go out. Always expect the unexpected.

There’s a hum you get used to, the low growl of diesel generators in the background of every store, office, and cell tower site. That sound is the real heartbeat of our operations.

Marketing Without Media

In most markets, you think about how to reach consumers: TV, digital, influencers. In Myanmar, you also think about how to avoid certain attention.

There is no free press here in the way we take for granted elsewhere. News is managed, narratives are carefully controlled. A social media campaign can disappear overnight with a single government order. Some days, Facebook is up with VPN. Other days, it’s not. Sometimes you can access TikTok, all of a sudden you can no longer access the social media you’re trying to shift attention to.

Imagine being a CMO where even your digital channels are as fragile as the weather.

Creativity here isn’t just about clever copywriting or stunning visuals. It’s about survival. It’s about finding safe, culturally respectful ways to tell stories when the usual tools aren’t available. Sometimes that means leaning on hyper-local methods, temple fairs, community gatherings, word-of-mouth — like stepping back in time while somehow racing into the future.

Speaking Without Speaking

When I first arrived, I thought English would be enough. It wasn’t. Myanmar has dozens of languages and dialects, each tied to complex identities and histories. A single word can mean different things in Yangon than in Mandalay.

What works in a Shan village might fall flat — or offend — in Sagaing.

Marketing is, at its core, about empathy. But empathy is hard without shared language. I’ve learned to rely deeply on local teammates who translate not just words, but nuance, tone, and unspoken signals. It’s humbling. It reminds me that leadership isn’t about being the smartest person in the room, but about listening carefully to those who see what you cannot.

Family Business Meets Corporate Machine

In multinational corporations, decisions flow through well-defined processes: PowerPoints, committees, KPIs. Here, ownership is more personal, intertwined with family, relationships, and face. Decisions may be shaped by trust, loyalty, and sometimes by things you don’t see, family dynamics, old alliances, quiet rivalries.

At first, this drove me mad. I wanted clarity, speed, predictability. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate that this way of operating has its own strengths.

When relationships are strong, execution can be lightning fast, no need for endless approvals. When they’re weak… you can be stuck in limbo for weeks.

It’s a dance, not a process chart. You learn to move with it or you don’t survive.

The Day Must Be Auspicious

One of my more surreal lessons came while planning our brand launch. We had the perfect date: logistics aligned, invitations sent, vendors ready.

And then, a quiet voice from the local team said, “That day is not auspicious.”

I laughed, thinking it was a joke. It wasn’t.

In Myanmar, astrology isn’t just personal, it’s woven into business decisions. Store openings, marketing campaigns, even SIM card promotions… all can be timed according to the stars. When your surroundings is in a flux of uncertainty, it is to the sky, the stars and the spirit people looking for guidance.

Launching on the wrong day isn’t merely unlucky; it can hurt morale, reputation, even sales. So we changed the date. Not because I suddenly became a believer in astrology, but because leadership is about respect. Sometimes, you move mountains for a reason you don’t fully understand, because for your team, it matters deeply.

The Consumer at the Center

Through all this chaos, one constant remains: The Customer.

Myanmar’s people are hungry for connection, to family abroad, to opportunity, to information. For many, the phone in their hand is their lifeline. That’s why, even in the hardest moments, the work feels meaningful.

When we restore service to a blackout-hit village…
When a student uses our internet to attend an online class for the first time…
When a small shopkeeper begins accepting mobile payments…

It matters.

The challenge is building trust in a market where trust has been broken so many times.

Where power cuts are normal.
Where rumors spread faster than facts.
Where foreign brands are eyed with suspicion.

Marketing here isn’t about clever slogans. It’s about showing up consistently, delivering on promises, and being visible in the community, not just as a company, but as a partner in people’s lives.

Living With Uncertainty

Some days, this role feels like crossing a rickety bridge over a river in monsoon season. You can’t see the other side clearly, and the planks beneath you sway with every step. But if you stop moving, you’ll never get across.

I’ve learned to hold plans lightly. To have backup plans for my backup plans.
To celebrate small wins. A cleanly run brand launch, a successful tower rollout, a campaign that resonates, a team member who grows into a leader.
And to remember that, despite everything, there’s beauty in the chaos:

• The pagodas at sunset. Myanmar sunset is really something else.
• The laughter of the team sharing a cup of coffee or tea after a long day.
• The knowledge that, in some small way, we’re helping this country stay connected to the wider world.

Being a Telco CMO in Myanmar is like playing chess on a board where the pieces change shape mid-game. Political upheavals, power outages, superstition, family politics, war zones — they all weave into the tapestry of daily life.

It’s exhausting, yes.
But it’s also profoundly human.

I came here thinking about market share and ARPU.
I stay because every connection we build carries a story: of resilience, of hope, of people reaching out through the static to say, “Can you hear me now?”

And as long as I can answer yes, it’s worth it.

It’s subtle at first. A glance in the meeting, a pause in the room, a silent waiting for you to speak. Then it becomes clearer: they’re not just looking at you, they’re looking to you. And not for inspiration, or charisma, or even comfort, but for decisions. That moment is the true weight of leadership. And it’s heavier than it looks.

Across history, peoples and communities haven’t always chosen leaders because they wanted to be inspired. They chose them because they needed someone to take the hard road when no one else would. Someone to carry the consequences. Someone willing to decide when the stakes were high and the outcome uncertain. Someone ready to lead for others, not for themselves.

The older I get, the more I see that pattern not just in textbooks or documentaries, but in life around me. In boardrooms, in startups, in friendships even. When things fall apart or grow complex, it’s not vision statements that matter most. It’s the person willing to say, “We go this way,” and mean it.

In ancient times, leadership wasn’t something you posted about. It was a burden. The tribe didn’t elevate you because you were loud or popular. They did it because you could act when others froze. In wartime Athens, generals were chosen and voted in yearly not because they were perfect, but because they were decisive. In Rome, when the Republic trembled, the Senate would name one person — a dictator rei gerundae causa — which translate to “for the purpose of conducting business”, to lead alone, just long enough to steer the city through the storm. They weren’t always liked. But they were trusted to choose.

I think about that often in today’s world of corporate leadership, where titles are easily handed out but accountability often isn’t. It’s easy to manage. It’s harder to decide. To let go of the perfect consensus, to act when the data is incomplete, to choose a direction knowing you might be wrong. And still choose.

I’ve seen both sides. I’ve been in rooms where the leader stalled, and the whole team spiraled in confusion. I’ve also seen what happens when someone steps forward, not to dominate, but to serve by deciding when others cannot.

Because ultimately, that’s what leadership is: service through decision. Not just making the easy calls. Making the right ones, even when they hurt. Even when people won’t thank you for them. At least not right away.

That’s why I believe this deeply: don’t be a leader if you’re not ready to decide.

Not because indecision makes you bad. But because people deserve better than a leader who hides when it matters. Better to support from behind than stand in front and freeze. Leadership isn’t about ego. It’s about responsibility. The kind that doesn’t sleep easily.

And maybe that’s the thing no one really tells you. That real leadership is quieter than we imagine. Less about the spotlight and more about the shadow where the hard choices live.

So if you’re ever asked to lead, and you will be, in one way or another, ask yourself not, “Am I ready to be seen?” but “Am I ready to decide when so?”

Because in the end, people don’t follow leaders because they’re perfect.

They follow them because, when it counted, they moved.

In the age where everything about everyone is almost available instantly for everyone to see, I feel we live in a life of comparable. We scroll, we compare, we measure. Even when we’re not trying to. When everyone’s micro moments are just there for everyone’s consumption, feeding a never-ending hunger for more, a fear of missing out. We forget what we’re looking for in the long run, instead of just tomorrow. It’s easy to mistake motion for meaning. For years, I pursued milestones like checkpoints in a game. Title, impact, recognition, growth. And to be honest, I don’t regret it. Those chapters built me. They shaped who I am. But somewhere along the way, the noise got louder than the signal. The “why” got buried under the “how much” and “how fast”.

Then comes a shift. One of my own making. One that I chose. One that peeled away the outer layers of what I thought I should be chasing. In that quiet space that followed, which I rarely got in the many years of high-speed life, things became clearer. Not completely, but clearer. I began to remember the version of myself that was curious without needing to win, good without needing to be seen, and ambitious but not at the cost of peace. I remembered what it felt like to build with people, not just for something. To feel joy in slow progress. To embrace enough.

At 42, maybe the answer is not a destination of a goal, but a way of being.

To be present
To be useful
To be honest to myself
To be less driven by noise and more attuned to meaning

I am reminding myself..
That in the next stretch of the journey, I want to stay grounded in purpose, not performance. To grow with intention, not comparison. To keep asking the right questions — even if the answers take a lifetime to unfold.

One of the core challenges of innovation in established organizations, especially large enterprises, is the tension between optimizing for Business as Usual (BAU) and pursuing riskier innovation for future growth. I would like to explore several insights and quotes from these papers.

Established companies or institutions are often very good at sustaining innovations that provide solutions to their customers and align with their business models. These incremental improvements are essential for short-term performance and maintaining customer relationships. However, as Christensen and Bower (1996) argue, “Neglect of disruptive technologies proved damaging to established… [companies] because the trajectory of performance improvement that the technology provided was steeper than the improvement trajectory demanded in individual markets.“

By focusing on just existing customer needs, companies often fall into the trap of stagnation and repetition, making them vulnerable to disruptive players—usually smaller companies—that emerge in growing or competitive markets.

Disruptive innovations often offer more straightforward or affordable solutions that initially appeal to a niche market. Sometimes, customers don’t need more features; they just need simpler ways to do things. While they may not seem threatening initially, Christensen and Bower (1996) found that established firms often “intensified their commitments to conventional technology while starving efforts to commercialize new technologies—even while the new technology was gaining ground in the market.”

The challenge lies in the resource allocation process. Established firms, driven by customer demand and clear market signals, prioritize sustaining innovations with immediate revenue potential. As Christensen and Bower (1996) note, managers tend to back projects “where the demand for the product was assured.”

Projects focused on disruptive innovations often need more apparent market demand and face significant uncertainty. This lack of immediate returns and risk aversion inherent in many organizations—the larger an enterprise is, the more risk averse it is—can lead to underfunding and neglect of these potentially game-changing opportunities.

How can companies escape this innovation trap?

1. Embrace Ambidexterity: Companies and Institutions must develop an ambidextrous approach, simultaneously pursuing evolutionary and revolutionary change. This involves creating separate structures, processes, and even cultures that support incremental and discontinuous innovation. Tushman and O’Reilly (1996) emphasize the importance of building “ambidextrous organizations” that manage incremental and discontinuous innovation. However, they acknowledge that achieving ambidexterity is organizationally challenging. It requires creating separate structures, processes, and even cultures to support these different types of innovation. This echoes Christensen and Bower’s (1996) finding that spinning out independent units can effectively enable established firms to succeed in disruptive technologies.
2. Challenge the Resource Allocation Process: Managers need to recognize the inherent biases in resource allocation towards BAU and create mechanisms to champion disruptive innovation. This might involve establishing separate innovation units, ring-fencing resources, or using different evaluation criteria for radical projects. It is interesting to read Furr and Eggers’s (n.d.) papers highlighting the “motivational bottlenecks” that hinder corporate innovation. They argue that companies need specific triggers, such as opportunity or purpose triggers, to motivate a shift from a focus on BAU to the pursuit of more radical innovation. For instance, “opportunity triggers” involve a proactive approach to identifying and capturing new opportunities, even if they don’t align with the existing business model, which might trigger allocating the right resources for future growth.
3. Cultivate a Culture of Experimentation: Fostering a culture that encourages calculated risk-taking, tolerates failure, and embraces learning from experimentation is essential for exploring disruptive opportunities. However, I often see companies do small-scale experiments only for things “near to their BAU.” and don’t explore far enough outside their existing market and expertise. Gavetti and Levinthal (2000) argue that organizations frequently engage in “local search” based on their existing knowledge and experience. While this can be effective for incremental improvements, it can limit a company’s ability to explore radically new ideas or technologies. This connects to the concept of disruptive innovation, as these innovations often emerge in areas far from an established firm’s existing market and technological expertise.

By acknowledging the tension between optimizing for the present and investing in the future, companies can position themselves for long-term success in the face of continuous change. The hardest part of implementing this is having leadership with a strong vision and consistently pushing the boundaries forward. Have you ever been involved in an ambidextrous organization? What do you think about sustaining innovations in your companies? Share your thoughts in the comments!

#innovation #disruption #corporateculture #strategy #leadership

Early in my career at Accenture, during a particularly stressful project release, a Senior Partner shared a story about butterflies that has stuck with me ever since. It’s a tale that reminds the importance of struggle in our journey towards success.

Here’s something you might not know: as butterflies break free from their chrysalis, they release a special chemical. This isn’t just any chemical – it’s crucial for strengthening their wings. But that’s not all:

1. The butterfly’s movements inside the chrysalis pump fluid into its wings

2. This fluid helps the wings expand to their full size

3. The timing of their emergence is critical – too early, and they’re doomed

Think of a butterfly’s emergence as a miniature Houdini escape act. This process isn’t just for show – it’s essential for their development:

1. It builds necessary muscles for flight

2. It prepares them for life outside the chrysalis

3. It ensures they’re fully developed before facing the world

Now, here’s where it gets interesting for us humans. Just like butterflies, we can’t skip the tough parts of our journey.

There’s no bypass, overpass or underpass — we gotta go through the rumble to develop our wings and fly.

Many successful leaders resonates with this. For instance, Angela Duckworth, author of “Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance,” notes:

“Struggle is not just inevitable, it’s necessary. Without struggle, we don’t grow.”

So, how can we apply this butterfly wisdom to our lives? Here are some key takeaways:

1. Embrace challenges: They’re not roadblocks, but opportunities for growth

2. Trust the process: Like the butterfly, your struggles are preparing you for success

3. Timing matters: Don’t rush your development – good things take time

4. Build resilience: Each challenge strengthens your ‘wings’ for future flights

Remember, every time you face a challenging period in your life or career, you’re in your own chrysalis moment. It might be uncomfortable, it might feel like you’re fighting to break free, but that struggle is key to your development.

As we wrap up, let’s take a moment to appreciate the humble butterfly. It’s not just a beautiful creature, but a powerful reminder of the transformative power of struggle. So the next time you’re facing a tough project, a career transition, or any life challenge, remember the butterfly. Embrace your chrysalis moment, and get ready to spread your wings and fly.

What’s your chrysalis moment right now? How can you embrace the struggle to emerge stronger? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below!

As the first in my family to pursue both undergraduate and graduate degrees, I recognize my fortunate position. Growing up in the westernmost region of Sumatra, where higher education was a distant dream for many, I found myself fortunate to pursue undergraduate and graduate degrees. However, this personal achievement exposed me to a harsh reality prevalent across Indonesia: a widening gap between the aspirations kindled by higher education and the difficulties of securing suitable employment. This persistent chasm, further intensified by our socio-economic and geographic disparities, is a question that remains from my university days to my present career, unrelated though it may be to education. Why, despite the increasing number of students entering higher education, especially from families similar to my own, does this gap persist? What element is missing in bridging higher education to industry? It is this fundamental question we need to address as we delve into the complexities of Indonesia’s educational landscape.

Indonesia Education Landscape and Relationship with Industry

The conversation about Indonesia’s education landscape is far from a simple chat over tea. It’s a complex and intricate discussion, seemingly endless not because of continual innovations — a fact we wish were true — but due to the increasing complexity of issues amplified by our society’s growing population. Education in Indonesia embodies not just acquiring a degree; for some, it’s akin to a race, reaching for the finish line of a dream that often feels elusive. This race’s parameters are uniquely challenging for those from small towns or villages, where the road to higher education can be a perilous journey riddled with additional hurdles of cost, access, and quality disparities.

Witnessing the last decade’s expansion of undergraduate students in Indonesia by 7.2% reaching 9.32 million in 2022, it puzzled, instead of pleasing me. Why? Because behind the facade of this growth hides an ugly truth — more than 1 million of our graduates are left jobless, adding to the piles of unemployed. Our higher education system, though earnest in its pursuit of enlightenment, falls prey to the swift, unyielding currents of global change. We’re lagging behind, grappling with a critical gap between the education we provide and the evolving job market’s demands.

The stark mismatch between academic learning and industry requirements is a salient issue globally. However, in Indonesia, this discrepancy takes on a unique dimension due to factors intrinsic to our nation’s educational and industry landscapes. The country’s diverse archipelago geography, for example, often results in uneven distribution of educational resources, leading to varied quality of educational outcomes. An experience I feel firsthand growing up. On the industry end, rapid technological development and global market forces are reshaping traditional employment sectors at a fast pace, rendering theoretical, classroom-based learning insufficient.

On top of these, the level of integration between academia and industry in Indonesia is relatively low, leading to an education system that operates almost in a vacuum, detached from industry dynamics and needs. Undoubtedly, universities have made commendable efforts to update and diversify their curricula, but they often fall short of meeting real-time employer expectations. This is particularly true in sectors driving our economy’s future, like technology and digital services, where the pace of evolution necessitates agile and responsive educational strategies. This mismatch underscores a pressing need to reassess the relevance of our educational pathways and argues for a strategic realignment towards market realities.

This discrepancy triggers a provocative debate, challenging the long-held belief that university education is the universal path to success. Perhaps it’s time to diversify our educational pathways, giving due credit to vocational schools (SMK) and industry-oriented courses that offer practical skills relevant for specific career paths.

Often, the heart of the problem lies not just in the unavailability of resources but in their misalignment with the current demands of the job market. This push-and-pull between academia and industry paves the way for an exciting new player — Edutech. As we find ourselves in the digital age, education must rise to meet the demands of a rapidly changing global landscape — and that is precisely where I think Edutech can make its mark.

Edutech Potentials and Shifting Paradigm

Edutech has the potential to revolutionize the learning experience, adding a dynamic, interactive, and contemporary edge to traditional classroom models. It can provide students with a more practical understanding aligned with current industry trends, ensuring that what they learn is truly relevant to the real world. For instance, consider IT students enriching their understanding of product management through end-to-end bootcamps, or math majors diving into data analytics through comprehensive online courses — these are tangible manifestations of the transformative power of Edutech.

This leads me to wonder: Is the traditional route of higher education the only way to forge work-ready talents and resources? Or are we slowly shifting our gaze towards certifications and industry-backed bootcamps as more fitting alternatives? This question is something only time can answer. But I believe it to be a game changing paradigm shift, a paradigm once shifted by formal education through universities programs.

With those believes in mind, Kuncie, amongst other Edutech initiatives, is poised to catalyze significant changes. We’re in it to build bridges. This commitment is reflected in our mission, which is pretty straightforward yet profound: we aim to make high-quality education not just accessible, but also sustainable for us as a business.

By doing so, we’re challenging the conventional norms of education and career preparation, offering new, viable pathways for learners not just to learn new knowledge, but to truly ready themselves for the challenges and opportunities of the modern world.

It is quite a ride, talking about how Edutech is stepping up to make education more relevant. But to keep this momentum going and to stay sustainable in our efforts to address these concerns, we can’t do it alone.

We need support, both in terms of policies and other solutions from various sectors. Some initiatives are already making waves, like the Ministry of Education and Culture’s (Kemendikbud) focus on final-year students through the Merdeka Belajar Kampus Merdeka program. It’s a step in the right direction, showing that change is possible when there’s a will.

The private sector’s role is also crucial. The more opportunities private sectors open up for students and aspiring professionals, the easier it will be for everyone to access the information and resources they need. There’s so much that can be done here, from cross-subsidies with the government to partnerships between companies, all aiming for win-win solutions that benefit everyone involved.

Another avenue is simply giving students who are eager and willing the chance they deserve. This is where companies can step up their game with accelerated leadership programs for early-jobbers and staff. The possibilities are endless if we start looking for them. Unfortunately, not everyone is aware of these opportunities.

Bringing industry expertise directly into the academic setting and vice versa is a promising solution, and Edutech could be the key to making this happen. For instance, digital platforms could host guest lectures or workshops by industry experts. They could offer real-time case studies and industry projects for students to gain hands-on experience. In a more ambitious model, universities could even partner with industries to co-create curriculum segments or complete course modules designed to shape ‘industry-ready’ graduates, and this is what we are trying to do with Kuncie’s Mini MBA Program and other University partnerships that we are doing. This academic-industry collaboration, facilitated by edutech, could allow for a real-time exchange, making education more responsive and relevant to the ever-changing market demands.

Conclusion

The educational landscape of Indonesia is intricately woven with threads of potential, resilience, and dynamic energy, each representing a hope for a brighter future. However, it is time we transform these individual threads into a robust tapestry of progress and achievement, one that can weather the turbulent winds of rapid technological evolution and global change.

The role of Edutech initiatives like ours, ‘Kuncie‘, is not just to bridge gaps, but to pioneer and unlock opportunity towards educational subsistence that is reflective of real-world applications and industry requirements. We need to leverage collaborative aid from the public and private sector, fostering a robust trinity of academia, industry, and technology.

We’re standing at the cusp of an educational revolution, where traditional higher education needs to metamorphose, and alternatives like vocational schools and industry-oriented courses need to be recognized for their potent relevance. The collective drive we share as stakeholders in this landscape transcends singular initiatives; it represents a national ambition to redefine educational success.

Let this be an open invitation to all who believe in the transformative power of education. It is a call to action that resonates not only within our immediate community but echoes throughout our nation. Let us envision a future where every student, regardless of their geographical or socio-economic background, is equipped with the right knowledge and skills to navigate through life and contribute to our national economy.

Let us, as a nation, be the architects of this new educational era, meticulously crafting a legacy of knowledge, empowerment, and opportunity that reverberate across generations, and ultimately, reshape Indonesia’s educational landscape for the better. Together, let’s transform our hopes into tangible change and create a lasting impact that extends beyond our shores, fostering an environment where education truly bridges dreams and realities.

The gig economy is defined by tasks with specific deliverables or outcomes. Unlike traditional roles where performance is measured by hours, the gig economy values achieving set goals or completing tasks. It also features short-term contracts or freelance work instead of permanent jobs.

The gig economy, driven by digitalization and the app economy, has reshaped global employment, revolutionizing it. But this brings divergent work experiences – some enjoy freedom while others face scarcity and underemployment, especially in sectors with short, unpredictable hours. Many turn to gigs for economic liberation, social mobility, and a diversified career path. I’ve seen friends juggle multiple gigs, embracing flexibility but struggling with instability.

Post pandemic and triggered by startup layoffs (or should I say normalization of cost of capital), I’ve come to see this shift as more than a trend; it’s a fundamental change in how young urban Indonesians work, live, and measure success. It reflects a historical oscillation of working hours, where once there was a move toward shorter, more productive workdays, now we’re seeing some of us working longer or more irregular hours than ever before.

Gig Economy: A Leap for Indonesian Workers

Indonesia is fertile for the gig economy, with a burgeoning young population skilled in digital technologies and an urban landscape ready for economic change. Research mentions only about 1.7% of Indonesian workforce are part of this compared to 36% of US workforce. The allure of flexible work hours and the need for extra income have drawn many to this new way of working.

I’ve noticed how the gig economy in Indonesia poses opportunities and challenges for newcomers. I believe the key is understanding the market, leveraging personal skills, and adapting continuously. Many aspiring gig workers seek platforms aligning with their skills, from ride-sharing to freelance graphic design. Some work in Kuncie as Customer Care Officer, Social Media, Graphic Designer, Learning Operations; their stories illustrate and an inspiration of dedication, empowerment, and economic resilience.

Key Players: Gig Platforms in Indonesia

Examining the gig economy ecosystem reveals a diverse array of platforms, each carving out unique niches for gig workers. These platforms are pivotal in shaping the gig economy’s trajectory.

Take Gojek, for example, which has evolved from a ride-sharing app to a comprehensive ecosystem for a variety of gig services. It’s a platform for food delivery, digital services, and payment. This evolution showcases Gojek’s adaptability and commitment to addressing the needs of gig workers and consumers.

Freelancer.co.id caters to digital freelancers and has become a hub for Indonesia’s skilled professionals in graphic design, programming, and content writing. Platforms like freelancer.co.id provide a streamlined process for finding work and managing projects, instrumental in connecting Indonesian talent with local and international opportunities.

Upwork and Fiverr, despite not being based in Indonesia, have a significant presence in the Indonesian gig economy. They offer global exposure and access to a wider range of projects, from short-term tasks to long-term collaborations, benefiting those aiming to expand beyond the local market.

Many local startups and niche platforms are emerging, catering to specific sectors like graphic design, digital marketing, and virtual assistance. These platforms are tailored to the unique needs of the Indonesian market, offering more localized opportunities and support in bahasa Indonesia.

These platforms nurture growth, innovation, and adaptability, representing diverse gig economy opportunities, contributing to the sector’s dynamism and resilience. As the gig economy evolves, these platforms will play a crucial role in shaping its future in Indonesia and beyond.

Delving into Impact and Challenges: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The gig economy is a double-edged sword, offering flexibility and opportunities on one side while presenting significant challenges on the other. I’ve seen this both globally and through my journey as CEO of a company. It has undeniably brought about a wave of empowerment and opportunities—The Good.

A significant and inspiring development impact on more opportunity for women empowerment. It provided an accessible platform for women to engage in the workforce, offering flexibility to balance professional responsibilities. This has been transformative for women who faced barriers in the traditional job market due to home responsibilities or societal norms. The gig economy’s inclusivity and flexibility have enabled more women to participate in economic activities, contributing to their empowerment and financial independence.

Gig economy workers often experience economic benefits, according to recent studies. The findings suggest that those who embrace gig work can reap more significant financial rewards compared to traditional employment, especially when they leverage their skills, utilize flexibility to maximize earnings, or use gig work as stepping stone for entrepreneurial ventures.

Traditional employment has been reshaped, offering flexibility, autonomy, and the chance for individuals to pursue work that aligns with their schedules and interests. Success stories abound, and they have inspired many, including myself, showing the potential of entrepreneurship, work-life balance, and a supplementary or primary income.

With the good comes The Bad—the significant impact of insecurity and instability that many gig workers face, including friends I know. The freedom of gig work often comes without the safety net of traditional employment, including stable income, health benefits, and career progression. This lack of security can lead to stress and anxiety, making the gig economy a double-edged sword.

The Ugly side of the gig economy is the stigma and systemic challenges that persist. Despite its growing acceptance, gig work is seen as less prestigious or stable than traditional jobs even though gig workers can reap more economic benefits. Gig workers also face systemic challenges like lack of legal protection, exploitation, and an oversaturated market.

Overcoming and Thriving

I remain optimistic despite the challenges, as many are finding ways to thrive in the gig economy. Overcoming the stigma involves recognizing the legitimacy and potential of gig work. Workers build personal brands, enhance skills through continuous learning and doing, and form supportive communities. The trend of gig workers diversifying skill sets and services enhances marketability and buffers market fluctuations.

AI-powered job platforms and productivity tools show how technology empowers gig workers to maximize potential and manage workload. This suggests a future where the good can be maximized, the bad managed, and the ugly addressed.

Our trajectory is shaped by technology, regulations, and cultural shifts as we stand at the cusp of a gig economy boom. I believe the future holds a more integrated, inclusive, and regulated gig landscape, with growth, innovation, and social change. The government’s role will be pivotal in sustaining the gig economy’s contribution to the national economy. We’re navigating this new frontier, shaping it to be as empowering and equitable as possible.

Ensuring Fairness and Sustainability in Gig Works

The gig economy in Indonesia continues to flourish, and it’s crucial for gig workers to adopt strategies for self-protection and sustainable success. My role as a leader and collaborator has offered me a unique vantage point to witness this unfolding tale.

A clear contract sets the stage for each engagement like the opening chapter of a well-written novel. It lays out the scope of work, deliverables, deadlines, and payment terms, not just as formalities, but as the foundations of trust and professionalism. For me, it’s like creating a storyline where expectations are clear and mutual goals are understood.

Considering gig workers’ multiple commitments, I prioritize realistic work expectations to respect their time and enhancework quality. Prompt and fair compensation is another cornerstone of my approach, motivating gig workers and establishing my reputation as a fair and reliable employer.

From a contractor’s perspective, each interaction with fellow gig workers enriches the story. Clear communication and mutual respect act as narrative threads through each project. Like any story, there are plot developments – check-ins and feedback loops – that ensure alignment and adaptability. Recognizing the value and contributions of gig workers leads to unexpected plot twists and innovative solutions.

Supporting independent gig workers with resources can significantly improve their productivity and output quality.Access to necessary software, data, or training sessions is crucial. This ecosystem of fairness, support, and mutual respect completes the story where each individual’s journey intertwines with collective progress and fulfillment.

1. Empathy as a Leadership Cornerstone: Nadella underscores empathy’s critical role in leadership by genuinely understanding and relating to team members’ needs and viewpoints. Leaders can foster a workplace brimming with trust, open communication, and collaboration by doing so. This approach not only enhances the working environment but also sparks innovation and productivity. Empathy is not about trying to feel sorry and always agreeing with others, but understanding their point of view and making decisions on what is the best option given all considerations.
2. Growth Mindset and Continuous Improvement: The concept of a growth mindset is pivotal in Nadella’s leadership philosophy. He advocates for leaders to embrace challenges, learn from failures, and continually seek improvement. This mindset inspires teams to adapt to change and pursue innovation, keeping them agile and forward thinking. The most famous mantra from his book is changing Microsoft culture from “know-it-all” to “learn-it-all”. At Kuncie, we develop this culture of “make things happen, make it better” to embrace rapid experimentation and growth cycle.
3. Vision, Diversity, and Innovation: Creating a compelling vision and purpose is essential in today’s dynamic business landscape. Nadella stresses the importance of aligning team goals with a broader mission to motivate and create a sense of belonging. He also highlights the significance of cultivating a diverse and inclusive culture, recognizing that varied perspectives and backgrounds are key drivers of creativity and innovation. Uniformity creates an echo chamber that can reduce innovation. The takeaways that I learn from this are to always create space for discussion, debates, and idea meritocracy where the best executable ideas that align with vision win.
4. Customer-Centric Approach and Trust-Based Relationships: Nadella emphasizes the importance of focusing on customer needs and building trust-based relationships. By prioritizing customer-centricity and consistently delivering beyond expectations, leaders can foster loyalty and ensure long-term organizational success. Similarly, building trust within teams is fundamental, promoting a supportive and collaborative environment. Customerscan be multifaceted, not only end customers but also internal across teams, hence by always delivering excellence to customers (another Kuncie culture), businesses will be built based on trust with all related stakeholders.
5. Adapting to Digital Transformation and Leading with Authenticity: Nadella encourages leaders to embrace technology and spearhead digital transformation within their organizations in an era dominated by digital advancements. This approach is crucial for staying competitive and innovative. Moreover, he advises leaders to lead with authenticity and humility, advocating for transparency and a culture that values continuous growth.

I reflect on the principles that Satya shares in “Hit Refresh”, and I’m struck by their alignment with my leadership experiences. Throughout my journey, these lessons have not just been relevant, but pivotal.

Leadership is a continuous process of growth and self-discovery. It’s about being at the forefront, not just in terms of business strategy, but in understanding your team’s human element. It’s about seeing beyond spreadsheets and project plans to the aspirations and potential of the people who make everything possible.

Empathy’s transformative power has profoundly affected me. It involves genuine interest in others’ perspectives and well-being, going beyond understanding. This approach has strengthened my connections with my team and stakeholders, fostering a more unified and motivated workforce.

Leading a team, especially through uncertain times, has tested my resilience and adaptability. The journey hasn’t been without challenges. There have been setbacks, but each has been a learning experience. These challenges have taught me that true leadership is about persisting, even when the destination seems unclear.

Nadella’s book lessons are not only professional principles; they are guideposts for personal and organizational growth. These insights inspire and prompt reflection as I lead and learn, reminding me that leadership’s essence is the impact on people and the legacy we leave.