The
national car and the Indonesian car
Mario Rustan, A GRADUATE OF LA TROBE UNIVERSITY IN MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
SUMBER : JAKARTA POST, 13 Maret 2012
Now and then, Indonesian politicians,
journalists, academics and members of the public are drawn to the issue of
mobnas — the national car.
We might smirk at Tommy Soeharto’s Timor, which was essentially a re-branded Kia Sephia/Mentor. But in early 1990s, the prospect that Indonesia could produce a national car was greeted enthusiastically.
National aircraft company IPTN developed the Maleo while Bakrie Group designed the Beta. There were various reasons for the positive response, which are still valid today.
“Nationalism” is the simplest explanation, but the notion requires several elaborations.
First, back then — and even now — Indonesia was not an industrial country like China or Japan. None of the Southeast Asian economies were industrial economies.
But Indonesia always believed that since it is the largest nation in Southeast Asia and one of the most populous in the world, it is a great power.
As a great power, it needs to produce a complex product that belongs outside everyone’s home — a car. Every home also needs a television set, a toilet, and probably a computer and a cell phone, but a car is the ultimate symbol of national pride and industrial power in every nation.
Second, like elsewhere in Asia, Japanese automobiles rule the majority of the Indonesian market. Many nationalists jump with joy at the idea of national car, which they believe would challenge the Japanese “economic colonialism”.
A national car is a car designed by Indonesians, built by Indonesians using Indonesian materials and technologies, and which is hoped to rule the domestic market — through regulations if necessary.
Some even wish that the national car will be exported and Indonesia will reap profits and recognition from the brand.
But here’s the dividing line between fantasy and fact: global automobile brands are privately owned. The Japanese government does not own Toyota and Honda.
The German government has nothing to do with the development of Mercedes and Audi. Tata’s engineers answer to the Tata family, not the federal minister.
China (often the source of Indonesia’s nationalist aspiration) has several state-owned and private automakers, and constantly has to face skepticism and accusation of piracy and/or inferiority. But even their technologies are developed by corporate engineers, not state scientists.
On the other hand, supporters of the national car believe that the brand does not have to be privately owned, and the state has to be the prime initiator of the program.
The state, of course, has nothing at stake to prompt it to build the automobile industry, which is very complex and difficult.
There are suggestions to work with foreign companies (i.e. copying their design and technology), but there is no suggestion to work with domestic conglomerates.
Like it or not, Asian economies are run by conglomerates overseeing several corporations and industries. With the exception of Korean and Indian groups, none are interested to invest in the automobile industry for good reasons: it’s too expensive, too difficult and too unprofitable.
Mass-produced cars need complex technologies, prime materials, dozens of supporting industries, a good reputation of the country itself, and eventually, the aggressive drive of the conglomerates.
Tata and other Indian conglomerates are willing to raid European steel industries, while Chinese and Korean groups scour Africa and Asia to secure raw materials. Southeast Asian conglomerates prefer to stay in their homesteads.
Even one can say that they are only interested with service and agriculture industries, and are not into high-technology production.
Even outside Japan, the results are still mixed. Korean cars fell into terrible times and only recently won the respect of local and Western customers and critics.
Taiwan can produce world-class electronics, but defers from attempting automobile enterprises. Indian brands are still struggling for recognition.
What is ironic is that the people who complain that the government can’t do anything right are also hoping that the government will make the national car project work.
Yes, a vocational school can produce a car, but it is unfair to hope that their sole product could be mass-produced for the masses. If business won’t produce it, then the state should not try.
It is never recommended to follow Malaysia’s Proton, which is seldom popular with Malaysian consumers. While it has won several international awards, Proton also has poor partnership histories with corporations such as Mitsubishi, MV Agusta and Volkswagen. It is also a favorite victim of television and online critics.
The bottom line of the national car proposition and of the Proton project is the desire to prove that Southeast Asians are capable of an automotive industry too.
That is good, but the mistake is we are too focused on the desire to create a national car instead of an Indonesian car.
The Toyota Kijang is made in
Indonesia, is an iconic part of Indonesian history and culture, and is available in other names in Malaysia, Taiwan, India, the Philippines, Brunei and South Africa.
Perhaps in those countries people know that it is a Toyota car but do not know that it is originated from Indonesia. But does that matter?
If the mayor of Surakarta prefers the Kiat Esemka while politicians in Jakarta demand new foreign sedans, then it’s not the fault of the foreign automakers.
Many Americans drive Toyotas or Kias because they know the cars are good, and that the brand is not American is irrelevant.
If China orders its public servants to drive local brands, it is because Chinese cars are already widely available due to mass-production, even without the national car project.
Besides the sense of national pride, is there actually a pressing need to produce an Indonesian brand?
As I argued, the hope to sell it overseas is too far-fetched, and the wish to see Indonesians driving Indonesian cars makes no sense (unless we talk about the Kijang).
Malaysians hardly make Protons their first choice, and what Indonesians need are good public transportation systems, not more cars. ●
We might smirk at Tommy Soeharto’s Timor, which was essentially a re-branded Kia Sephia/Mentor. But in early 1990s, the prospect that Indonesia could produce a national car was greeted enthusiastically.
National aircraft company IPTN developed the Maleo while Bakrie Group designed the Beta. There were various reasons for the positive response, which are still valid today.
“Nationalism” is the simplest explanation, but the notion requires several elaborations.
First, back then — and even now — Indonesia was not an industrial country like China or Japan. None of the Southeast Asian economies were industrial economies.
But Indonesia always believed that since it is the largest nation in Southeast Asia and one of the most populous in the world, it is a great power.
As a great power, it needs to produce a complex product that belongs outside everyone’s home — a car. Every home also needs a television set, a toilet, and probably a computer and a cell phone, but a car is the ultimate symbol of national pride and industrial power in every nation.
Second, like elsewhere in Asia, Japanese automobiles rule the majority of the Indonesian market. Many nationalists jump with joy at the idea of national car, which they believe would challenge the Japanese “economic colonialism”.
A national car is a car designed by Indonesians, built by Indonesians using Indonesian materials and technologies, and which is hoped to rule the domestic market — through regulations if necessary.
Some even wish that the national car will be exported and Indonesia will reap profits and recognition from the brand.
But here’s the dividing line between fantasy and fact: global automobile brands are privately owned. The Japanese government does not own Toyota and Honda.
The German government has nothing to do with the development of Mercedes and Audi. Tata’s engineers answer to the Tata family, not the federal minister.
China (often the source of Indonesia’s nationalist aspiration) has several state-owned and private automakers, and constantly has to face skepticism and accusation of piracy and/or inferiority. But even their technologies are developed by corporate engineers, not state scientists.
On the other hand, supporters of the national car believe that the brand does not have to be privately owned, and the state has to be the prime initiator of the program.
The state, of course, has nothing at stake to prompt it to build the automobile industry, which is very complex and difficult.
There are suggestions to work with foreign companies (i.e. copying their design and technology), but there is no suggestion to work with domestic conglomerates.
Like it or not, Asian economies are run by conglomerates overseeing several corporations and industries. With the exception of Korean and Indian groups, none are interested to invest in the automobile industry for good reasons: it’s too expensive, too difficult and too unprofitable.
Mass-produced cars need complex technologies, prime materials, dozens of supporting industries, a good reputation of the country itself, and eventually, the aggressive drive of the conglomerates.
Tata and other Indian conglomerates are willing to raid European steel industries, while Chinese and Korean groups scour Africa and Asia to secure raw materials. Southeast Asian conglomerates prefer to stay in their homesteads.
Even one can say that they are only interested with service and agriculture industries, and are not into high-technology production.
Even outside Japan, the results are still mixed. Korean cars fell into terrible times and only recently won the respect of local and Western customers and critics.
Taiwan can produce world-class electronics, but defers from attempting automobile enterprises. Indian brands are still struggling for recognition.
What is ironic is that the people who complain that the government can’t do anything right are also hoping that the government will make the national car project work.
Yes, a vocational school can produce a car, but it is unfair to hope that their sole product could be mass-produced for the masses. If business won’t produce it, then the state should not try.
It is never recommended to follow Malaysia’s Proton, which is seldom popular with Malaysian consumers. While it has won several international awards, Proton also has poor partnership histories with corporations such as Mitsubishi, MV Agusta and Volkswagen. It is also a favorite victim of television and online critics.
The bottom line of the national car proposition and of the Proton project is the desire to prove that Southeast Asians are capable of an automotive industry too.
That is good, but the mistake is we are too focused on the desire to create a national car instead of an Indonesian car.
The Toyota Kijang is made in
Indonesia, is an iconic part of Indonesian history and culture, and is available in other names in Malaysia, Taiwan, India, the Philippines, Brunei and South Africa.
Perhaps in those countries people know that it is a Toyota car but do not know that it is originated from Indonesia. But does that matter?
If the mayor of Surakarta prefers the Kiat Esemka while politicians in Jakarta demand new foreign sedans, then it’s not the fault of the foreign automakers.
Many Americans drive Toyotas or Kias because they know the cars are good, and that the brand is not American is irrelevant.
If China orders its public servants to drive local brands, it is because Chinese cars are already widely available due to mass-production, even without the national car project.
Besides the sense of national pride, is there actually a pressing need to produce an Indonesian brand?
As I argued, the hope to sell it overseas is too far-fetched, and the wish to see Indonesians driving Indonesian cars makes no sense (unless we talk about the Kijang).
Malaysians hardly make Protons their first choice, and what Indonesians need are good public transportation systems, not more cars. ●
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar