Australia’s Cultural Blind Spot is its Most Important Neighbor

Anthony Albanese poses with Bluey and Bingo from the hit ABC TV show Bluey.

Indonesia’s 280 million people makes it one of the most populous countries in the world. With a median age of roughly 30, it is a nation driven by youth, digital fluency, and a rapid appetite for global cultural products. Korean pop music dominates its TikTok feeds and concert venues, Japanese anime and games shape entire subcultures, and its parents name their children after European soccer stars. Yet despite Indonesia’s openness to global culture, Australia remains strikingly absent from Indonesia’s everyday cultural imagination—a striking omission for a country that has the cultural assets, the proximity, and the opportunity.

Any serious conversation about cultural diplomacy must start with an honest audit of what Australia can bring to the table. And that list is longer—and far more commercially relevant—than policymakers usually give it credit for. Bluey and other children’s media are constant fixtures in living rooms across the world, proving that Australian storytelling travels well when it’s given the chance. Sport runs just as deep in Australia’s DNA. Marquee events like the Australian Open and the Melbourne Grand Prix have turned the country into a genuine mecca for global sports fans. And its uniquely Australian experiences—the Boxing Day Test, Australian rules football, the State of Origin—form a cultural signature that simply doesn’t exist anywhere else. And then, of course, there is what we would argue is Australia’s greatest contribution to humanity: its bakery and café culture. Specialty coffee, sourdough, and avocado toast have gone global, and the world is undeniably better for it. All this amounts to a rich suite of exportable assets: the stories, tastes, and moments that align closely with the preferences and aspirations of Indonesia’s growing middle class.

That middle class—now roughly 47.85 million people, larger than Australia’s entire population—is rapidly shifting its spending toward media, food, lifestyle, and tourism. The ability to travel and study abroad has become a key marker of status, and Australia is uniquely positioned to benefit as a trusted, nearby destination for both education and leisure. In 2024, Australia hosted approximately 24,000 Indonesian international students, a 41 percent increase from 16,534 in 2018—a figure likely to rise as the government targets 295,000 Southeast Asian enrolments by 2026. As more Indonesians study, visit, and settle in Australia, they form natural bridges between the two countries, deepening familiarity and long-term affinity.

This matters because cultural familiarity shapes how Indonesians understand Australia long before policy or diplomacy enters the picture. Indonesia’s young consumers are already seeking the kinds of products Australia excels at—children’s media, café culture, sports, and distinctive experiences. These everyday touchpoints build affinity far more effectively than official campaigns ever can, as the millions of parents worldwide whose children now speak with a Bluey-inspired Australian accent can attest.

Unfortunately, this is where the narrative falters. For all the exportable strengths that Australia possesses, its footprint in Indonesia’s media and lifestyle landscape is close to invisible. Australian children’s content, documentaries, lifestyle shows, and cooking series are barely present on Indonesian screens. While an Indonesian dubbing of Bluey is already shown on national television, it remains a piecemeal effort rather than a part of any coordinated push. Australian-branded content simply does not compete with the Korean, Japanese, American, and local programming that dominate streaming platforms.

The same absence is also visible in consumer and lifestyle markets. Australian food and café culture has made only the faintest mark in Indonesia, with a handful of brands like Toby’s Estate standing almost alone. Tourism promotion follows the same pattern: campaigns still lean on generic “beach holiday” imagery aimed at East Asian visitors, instead of presenting Australia’s stories, lifestyle, and experiences as the draw–a strange choice for Indonesians who already have Bali an hour away.

Sport is no different. Indonesia is a market of 280 million people in an ideal broadcast time zone for Australian leagues, yet Australian rules football, rugby league, and cricket barely register–even though there exists a vacuum for a second major streaming sport beyond football. While bars in Bali already show NRL and AFL games, these venues cater almost entirely to expatriates and tourists, doing little to draw in curious Indonesian bystanders or turn casual exposure into meaningful interest. With no effort to localize the presentation, or make the experience inviting to newcomers, these moments remain contained rather than the start of a broader audience. And instead of investing in Indonesia to build a footprint, the National Rugby League chose to stage its international showcase in Las Vegas–in a nation with the most crowded sports market on Earth.

This puzzling disinterest extends all the way up to the Australian government. Australia’s flagship cultural-diplomacy instrument, the Australian Cultural Diplomacy Grants Program (ACDGP), has a global funding pool of just A$442,000 for 2024–25, while the Australia–Indonesia Institute, operating on a similarly modest cultural budget of A$350,000, carries a diplomatic and educational mandate rather than the remit of a mass-market cultural exporter. The contrast with Japan and South Korea could not be clearer. Japan’s Cool Japan Fund holds roughly A$1.4 billion in capital, while South Korea has just allocated around A$4.9 billion in its budget for its culture, arts, and content industries under the Hallyu Act. These countries treat creativity as a strategic export.

The consequences show up in tourism numbers as well. Despite having more frequent flights and being geographically closer to Indonesia, Australia attracts less than half the number of visitors that Japan does. Indonesia’s young, upwardly mobile consumers are bringing their money to where the stories, aesthetics, and experiences already feel familiar. Japan and South Korea have spent decades investing in cultivating that familiarity. Australia, by contrast, spends less on its global cultural presence than the budget of a mid-sized Korean drama.

Australia’s cultural underperformance in Indonesia is not a failure of capacity but of intention. Canberra has lately shown a renewed willingness to use soft power in the region—the Papua New Guinea Chiefs NRL franchise being the clearest example of how sport can build genuine affinity when treated as a strategic asset. Yet this energy has not been extended to Indonesia, where Australia’s strengths in education, tourism, children’s media, food culture, and distinctive experiences remain fragmented and largely invisible. This is a missed opportunity in a digitally connected, trend-sensitive, and culturally curious market whose lifestyle aspirations align naturally with what Australia already offers. Culture is Australia’s lowest-cost, highest-return tool in Indonesia. If Australia wants to matter in its own neighborhood, it must now show up culturally with the same seriousness it applies elsewhere.

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This article, written by Michael Tomasoa, Research Associate at Foreign Policy Talks and Weilie Winaldy Sugianlie, External Engagement Officer at Foreign Policy Talks.