When Nusantara was announced as Indonesia’s new capital, the idea carried a bold promise: to replace the overcrowded, polluted and sinking Jakarta with a purpose-built city representing a leap into the future.
The plan envisaged shifting government ministries, civil servants and eventually hundreds of thousands of residents to a brand-new site in East Kalimantan, deep in the jungle.
As the article in The Guardian notes, the vision was “utopian”: wide boulevards cutting through forest, a futuristic seat of government, high-rise apartment blocks, lush green spaces and advanced infrastructure.
Reality Check: Empty Streets and Missing People
Yet three years into construction, the dream shows worrying signs of stagnation. According to The Guardian, Nusantara’s broad avenues remain largely empty—only a handful of civil servants and construction workers live there, far short of the target population of 1.2 million by 2030.
The state funding has plunged: from an allocation of £2 billion in 2024 down to £700 million in 2025, and only £300 million planned for the following year—roughly one-third of what was requested.
Moreover, private investment has fallen more than £1 billion short of targets. This combination of reduced funding, weak private investment and low resident numbers has led commentators to warn that Nusantara is in danger of becoming a “ghost city”.
Political Will and Shifting Priorities
Part of the challenge lies in waning political momentum. The article reports that in May the sitting president, Prabowo Subianto, quietly downgraded Nusantara’s status from “full capital” to “political capital,” though the move was only made public months later.
Some analysts argue that the project is no longer the priority it once was under the previous administration of Joko Widodo.
A constitutional law scholar quoted by The Guardian describes Nusantara as “already ‘a ghost city’” and says the new label has “no meaning” in Indonesian law.
Local Impacts
On the ground, the slowdown has had real effects for local businesses and communities. Small enterprises that flourished when construction and relocation were active now face collapse. One homestay owner recounts that when workers left, her income halved.
Laundry services, convenience stores and other support commerce have declined sharply. For Indigenous and local populations the situation is even more fraught: environmental damage, disrupted river flows and lost livelihoods have been reported.
For example, a farmer near the Sepaku River says flooding has worsened since a water-treatment plant was built, cutting his harvest in half.
Environmental campaigners estimate over 2,000 hectares of mangrove forest have been cleared in the past two years due to infrastructure work.
So, What Now?
The growing mismatch between ambition and reality raises several risks. Without sufficient residents, commercial activity, clear government alignment and ongoing funding, the city may end up functioning more as a showcase or secondary site than a full seat of government.
Some analysts suggest Nusantara may pivot toward a tourist destination rather than fulfilling its original role.
On the other hand, government officials assert that funding remains and that they remain committed. For example, the head of the Nusantara Capital Authority insists that funding has simply been “reallocated, not cut”.
In summary, the grand concept of building Indonesia’s “capital of the future” in Nusantara has encountered hard realities: empty streets, limited inhabitant numbers, sharp budget cuts, and a shift in political focus.
While the infrastructure is visible and tangible—ministry buildings, roads, an airport—but much of the city remains under construction and under-populated.
The risk is that, unless momentum is regained and the original vision recalibrated, what was once meant to symbolize a new beginning may instead become emblematic of over-reach.
Only time will tell whether Nusantara can transform from planned utopia into vibrant capital—or simply settle into function as a quiet, modern ghost town.
