Danantara’s Patriot Bond and the Unchanged Role of Chinese-Indonesian Conglomerates

INTRODUCTION

Scholars have long considered how Indonesia’s political economy is structured around a complex relationship of state–business patronage, in which ruling coalitions mobilise business elites to secure political stability and finance strategic agendas. This article argues that Danantara’s Patriot Bond is a reconfiguration of this long-standing state-capital nexus, and represents a broader shift wherein development priorities are pursued through investment vehicles rather than direct budgetary allocation. This new agency allows the executive branch of government to mobilise resources while reducing parliamentary scrutiny and redistributing political risk onto participating firms. This Bond is designed to strengthen elite alliances and mobilise private capital. 

We argue that Chinese Indonesian conglomerates remain central to the new arrangement primarily because of their capital depth, regulatory dependence, and political vulnerability. We also contend that competing narratives portraying a rising group of “indigenous” tycoons as an alternative economic elite are better understood as symbolic counter-narratives rather than evidence of structural change.

PATRIOT BOND AND CHINESE INDONESIAN CONGLOMERATES

In October 2025, a list of 46 Indonesian tycoons who had subscribed to the Patriot Bond issued by Danantara began circulating on social media. The post quickly attracted public attention and was soon reported by major media outlets. Danantara CEO, Rosan Perkasa Roeslani, later confirmed that the initial launch of the bond had been fully subscribed and that the USD 3 billion fund collected would be used to finance a national waste-to-energy project. While Rosan confirmed that the issuance was successful, he declined to disclose the identities of the subscribers.

Since Danantara has not publicly disclosed the identities of Patriot Bond subscribers, the analysis here relies on triangulation from multiple sources, including circulation lists and media reports. The leaked list should not be read as definitive proof of individual participation, but as an indicative sign of which segments of Indonesia’s business elite were widely perceived as being central to the bond’s mobilisation. The analytical focus of this article is on the widespread belief that Chinese Indonesian conglomerates are the principal backers, which reveals much about power relations and political economy dynamics under Prabowo’s administration.

Daya Anagata Nusantara or Danantara was established in February 2025 by President Prabowo Subianto. It functions as a state investment vehicle resembling a sovereign wealth fund designed to mobilise domestic capital, particularly from state-owned enterprises (SOEs), to finance national strategic projects without relying on foreign borrowing. Although Danantara reportedly commands capital commitments from SOEs amounting to USD 1 trillion, the issuance of the Patriot Bond indicates that the government continues to seek additional private funding to support ambitious development priorities. This reflects Prabowo’s nationalist approach, which seeks fiscal self-reliance while maintaining control over strategic sectors.

The circulation of the leaked subscribers’ list offers an interesting lens through which to examine Prabowo’s dynamic relationship with Indonesia’s business elites. The composition of the subscriber base reveals how established patterns of political and business elite relations persist beneath the administration’s nationalist rhetoric.

Although the list circulating on social media was never officially verified, Danantara neither confirmed nor denied its contents. The overwhelming majority of those widely believed to have subscribed were Chinese Indonesian tycoons, underscoring the group’s continued dominance in Indonesia’s top tiers of capital. Only six contributors were non-Chinese. Among them, only Boy Thohir and Hilmi Panigoro reportedly contributed over IDR 1 trillion (USD 60 million), although Thohir’s subscription was made jointly with his long-time Chinese Indonesian business partner, Edwin Soeryadjaya. The remaining non-Chinese contributors invested between IDR 100 billion and IDR 500 billion (USD 6 million to USD 30 million). In total, Danantara raised approximately IDR 51.75 trillion (USD 3.1 billion).

For Chinese Indonesian conglomerates, participation offers several overlapping incentives. First, the bonds provide a “safe” state-endorsed channel for large idle liquidity. Second, participation signals cooperation in sectors where permits, land, and licences are subject to political support from the administration.

The largest individual contributors came from leading Chinese Indonesian conglomerates, such as Anthoni Salim, Prajogo Pangestu, James Riady, Sugianto Kusuma (alias Aguan), Tommy Winata, Franky Widjaja, Budi Hartono, Dato Tahir, and Edwin Soeryadjaya or Low Tuck Kwong. These figures, often collectively referred to in the media as the Nine Dragons, each reportedly contributed around IDR 3 trillion (USD 180 million). Most have remained influential since the Suharto era and have effectively adapted to successive political regimes, including the Joko Widodo administration.

The Patriot Bond should however not be perceived just as a financing instrument, but rather as a mechanism that aligns fiscal mobilisation with political signalling instead. For Chinese Indonesian conglomerates, participation offers several overlapping incentives. First, the bonds provide a “safe” state-endorsed channel for large idle liquidity. Second, participation signals cooperation in sectors where permits, land, and licences are subject to political support from the administration. And finally, non-participation carries uncertainty in a highly centralised presidency. From this perspective, participation can be read simultaneously as investment, signal of loyalty, and hedging towards political risks, rather than as purely voluntary market behaviour or outright coercion.

CHINESE INDONESIAN CONGLOMERATES AND INDIGENOUS CONGLOMERATES: CONTINUITY AND DIFFERENTIATION

While many of these Chinese Indonesian conglomerates originated from Suharto’s New Order period, there are some which are newcomers. Earlier studies of Indonesian major conglomerates in the 1980s identified prominent figures such as Liem Sioe Liong (Sudono Salim, Anthoni Salim’s father), Li Wenzheng (Mochtar Riady, James Riady’s father), Ciputra (Tjie Tjin Hwan), William Soeryadjaya (Tjia Kian Liong, Edwin Soeryadjaya’s father), Eka Tjipta Widjaja (Oei Ek Tjong, Franky Widjaja’s father), Hendra Rahardja (Tan Tjoe Hien), Prajogo Pangestu (Peng Yunpeng), Surya Wonowidjojo (Tjoa Ing Hwie) and Hartono Brothers (Oei Gwie Siong and Oei Gwie Tiong). Over time, several of these declined and exited the top tier, while others, notably the Hartono family and Prajogo Pangestu, managed to expand their economic influence significantly (Figure 1).

Figure 1: The approximate wealth of Indonesia’s top conglomerates

A comparison between the earlier “Big Ten” conglomerates and today’s leading groups shows the emergence of new Chinese Indonesian elites such as Sugianto Kusuma (Aguan), Tommy Winata (Guo Shuoyue), Dato Tahir (Weng Junmin), and Low Tuck Kwong (Figure 1). Their rise reflects both sectoral transformation in the economy and the ability of certain business groups to align themselves with changing political priorities.

The close relationship between Chinese-Indonesian conglomerates and the presidency took root during the New Order, when Suharto relied on select Chinese businessmen to finance regime-linked foundations and strategic projects. While the Reformasi era introduced electoral competition and decentralisation, it did not dismantle these patronage channels. Instead, successive presidents reconfigured them to suit new political contexts, ranging from Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s “open oligarchy” to Joko Widodo’s infrastructure-driven developmentalism.

As the political ecosystem changes, the conglomerates grew in importance. The Salim Group holds extensive interests in food manufacturing, consumer retail, and toll road and infrastructure concessions. Prajogo Pangestu’s business empire spans from petrochemicals to large-scale downstream industrial estates. The Widjaja (Sinar Mas) Group dominates the pulp and paper industry and operates major plantation assets. Both Sugianto Kusuma and Tommy Winata are heavily invested in property development and large urban real-estate projects, while the Riady’s Lippo group maintains significant stakes in banking, finance, and private higher education.

These sectors are among the most regulated in Indonesia, requiring state approvals for land concessions, environmental licensing, infrastructure permits, and industrial development incentives. This dependence on state regulation and political facilitation has long encouraged these conglomerates to maintain cooperative relationships with the presidency and economic policymakers.

Now, these conglomerates are adapting to Prabowo’s administration, which wants to use them again for both political and economic benefits. However, the previous administrations, the current government seems more sophisticated in managing the conglomerates, for example, by using financial instruments like Patriot Bond. 

THE ‘NINE HAJI’ AS DISCURSIVE COUNTER-ELITE

The ‘Nine Haji’ should be understood less as an empirically coherent capitalist class than as a narrative construct that resonates with religious identity, regional pride, and populist economic nationalism.

In contrast to assuming the dominance of Chinese Indonesian conglomerates, recent social media discussions have put the focus on a new group of “Muslim tycoons” from the Outer Islands, dubbed the Nine Haji. These indigenous tycoons include Haji Isam (Andi Syamsuddin Arsyad) of the Jhonlin Group, which operates in coal mining, palm oil, and logistics in South Kalimantan; Haji Kalla (Jusuf Kalla’s father) founder of Kalla Group, with businesses in automotive, logistics, and energy in Eastern Indonesia; Haji Aksa (Aksa Mahmud) of the Bosowa Group, which controls the cement industry and toll projects in Sulawesi; and several other regionally influential business people active in mining, palm oil, and real estate.

These indigenous businessmen are often portrayed as a rising counterweight to the economic dominance of the Nine Dragons. Their visibility is reinforced by strong local patronage networks, religious philanthropy, and public display of wealth.

The Nine Haji narrative therefore serves primarily as a symbolic counter-discourse appealing to ethnic and religious populists. It is not a real reflection of shifting economic power, at least not yet.

There is no publicly verifiable evidence that figures commonly labelled as the ‘Nine Haji’ participated in the Patriot Bond issuance, nor have their business groups been publicly associated with Danantara’s initial financing round. Whether this absence reflects official exclusion or structural incapacity on their part is unknown. The indigenous conglomerates who are known to have purchased the Patriot Bond are interestingly not considered part of the Nine Haji group. Moreover, little verifiable data exists regarding the Nine Haji’s actual wealth or business scale. While online narratives suggest that they are being “cultivated” by the government, there is no evidence that Prabowo’s administration is systematically promoting them as an alternative with which to replace Chinese Indonesian tycoons.

The Nine Haji narrative therefore serves primarily as a symbolic counter-discourse appealing to ethnic and religious populists. It is not a real reflection of shifting economic power, at least not yet. These emerging Muslim businessmen may have regional influence, but they lack the deep financial networks, global reach, and political restraint that make the Chinese Indonesian conglomerates enduring partners of the state.

What is missing from the indigenous business elites’ narrative is the existing capitalists who emerged during the Suharto era, which includes the Suharto family, the Prabowo family, and many other indigenous tycoons who have already entered the Forbes list.

Arguably, the composition of Patriot Bond subscribers reveals a consistent pattern in Indonesia’s political economy, in which nationalist economic measures often depend on the same old capitalist networks. Prabowo government’s reliance on large Chinese Indonesian business groups to support Danantara’s Patriot Bond highlight how important these conglomerate groups are for mobilising domestic financial resources. The latter possess vast domestic capital, global financing links and proven loyalty to the state.

This Patriot Bond arrangement reflects a pragmatic form of nationalism, in which the government seeks to mobilise private capital under nationalistic branding without affecting the political stability of the country. Rather than ideological nationalism, this reflects pragmatic state–capital mobilisation under fiscal constraint, similar to Malaysia’s use of government-linked companies (GLCs) to finance strategic sectors when public budgets are tight.

Media reporting suggests that wealthy conglomerates have been pressured to contribute additional funds. While these claims are difficult to verify and should not be overstated, their circulation itself is politically significant. It reflects a shared elite understanding that large business groups are expected to function as financial shock absorbers during periods of state constraint. Past episodes, such as temporary travel restrictions involving prominent business families, serve as reminders of the informal instruments available to the state, even if their application is selective and unclear.

Some conglomerates and family-run businesses have reportedly been asked for amounts exceeding US$5 million, leading to some resistance and proposed compromises. Yet their room for resistance appears limited, and most ultimately complied. This episode raises a persistent question in Indonesia’s political economy: do these conglomerates, many of whom are ethnic Chinese, continue to function as a financial backstop for an indigenous-dominated political elite? Or does their apparent compliance reflect not weakness, but a strategic calculation to preserve access, protection, and influence within an increasingly centralised state structure?

FROM CUKONG TO CONGLOMERATE TO NAGA

The evolution of terms used to describe Chinese Indonesian capitalists reflects the shifting political contexts involved. During the Suharto New Order era, the term cukong, derived from Hokkien, was used pejoratively to describe Chinese business patrons of military elites. Following the fall of Suharto, the more neutral term of “conglomerate” was used instead. More recently, the resurgence of the term Naga (dragon), a mystical creature associated with China and the Chinese, to refer to the Chinese conglomerates in public discourse, signals a re-ethnicisation of elite politics amid heightened national and populist sentiments.

Regardless of these changes in terminology, the underlying patronage system has remained remarkably resilient. Scholars such as Richard Robison (1986) and Kunio Yoshihara (1988) have highlighted how Southeast Asian capitalism has historically been shaped by state protection, rent-seeking, and political vulnerability. In 1980s, Yoshihara characterised many ethnic Chinese capitalists as “ersatz capitalists,” (which refers to an inefficient, artificial form of capitalism characterised by strong patronage between capitalists and bureaucrats, heavy reliance on foreign technology, and a lack of indigenous industrial innovation). Be that as it may, capital accumulation, technological changes, and China’s global economic rise have altered conditions significantly.

During the New Order, not only did we witness the rise of Chinese capitalists, but also indigenous capitalists such as Sultan Hamengkubuwono IX, and many others who were linked to the state. It is interesting to note that academic Richard Robison called these people Indonesian capitalist class. Therefore, not only are there Chinese capitalists but also indigenous capitalists.

However, Japanese economist Kunio Yoshihara viewed the patronage relationship between the Chinese and power holders from the economic perspective, or more precisely, from the political economy perspective. In Southeast Asian contexts, Yoshihara argued that there were genuine capitalists among them. However, many of them, especially in the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia, were ersatz capitalists. He defined ersatz capitalists as capitalists who function at a low technological level, and therefore have to rely on foreign (particularly Western) technological innovation. Moreover, these ethnic Chinese capitalists in the above-mentioned countries were considered non-indigenous and hence were particularly vulnerable; therefore they have had to act as rent-seekers rather that genuine capitalists. Yoshihara was referring to the situation in the last century, especially in the 1980s and 1990s. The situation in these countries have altered significantly since then; the ethnic Chinese position has improved, and the rise of China as an economically strong and technologically advanced actor have changed the regional discursive equation. With these changes, we should rethink whether the role of Chinese capitalists in these countries remains as rent-seekers and politically powerless.

While the Suharto New Order offered Chinese Indonesians economic opportunity, their access to strategic political areas was limited. To a lesser extent, under the Prabowo administration, Chinese Indonesian conglomerates continue to occupy a paradoxical position of being economically indispensable yet politically constrained. Certainly, Chinese Indonesian economic status has become much stronger compared to the previous era. Their dominance among Patriot Bond subscribers illustrates how economic nationalism in Indonesia remains dependent on long-established capitalist networks.

CONCLUSION

The composition of Danantara’s Patriot Bond subscribers reveals a persistent pattern in Indonesia’s political economy. Nationalist economic initiatives continue to rely on the same entrenched conglomerates to mobilise large-scale domestic capital. Chinese Indonesian business groups remain central not primarily through formal political office, but through structurally embedded financial and fiscal roles within the state’s development strategy.

The Patriot Bond shows a pragmatic form of economic nationalism, in which private capital is mobilised under patriotic branding while political authority remains firmly centralised. Far from signalling a redistribution of economic power, the discourse surrounding the “Nine Haji” reflects symbolic contestation rather than material change.

In this sense, Prabowo’s strategy resembles earlier state-capital arrangements in Southeast Asia, including Malaysia’s reliance on government-linked companies to finance strategic sectors under fiscal constraint (Gomez & Jomo 1999). Rather than ideological nationalism, the Patriot Bond illustrates pragmatic state–capital mobilisation under contemporary political and fiscal pressures.

---

This is an adapted version of ISEAS Perspective 2026/23 published on 8 April 2026. The paper and its references can be accessed at this link.