A few weeks ago, many Indonesians suddenly became interested in the law of the sea and related matters. The trigger was not a new regulation, nor a maritime incident in Indonesian waters. It was the tension surrounding the Strait of Hormuz. As discussions emerged about the possibility of Iran disrupting maritime traffic, a familiar question resurfaced: if Iran can threaten to close Hormuz, why can’t Indonesia do the same with the Strait of Malacca or the Indonesian Archipelagic Sea Lanes (ALKI)?
The question is understandable. Yet it also reveals how easily we are tempted by simple comparisons in a world that is far more complex. I was invited to talk at an event organised by IPB University in Bogor on 13 May 2026. It was on “Managing and Utilizing the Strait of Malacca and ALKI”.
At first glance, Hormuz and Malacca appear similar. Both are strategic straits. Both carry enormous volumes of global trade. Both attract the attention of major powers. However, geography, law, and history tell very different stories.
Indonesia’s position is unique. Through decades of diplomacy, Indonesia succeeded in convincing the world to recognize the archipelagic state concept. The reward was extraordinary: millions of square kilometres of waters between our islands became legally recognized as part of Indonesia’s maritime domain. This achievement was not secured by military force, but through negotiation and international law.
Yet every achievement comes with responsibilities. The international community accepted Indonesia’s archipelagic vision on the understanding that international navigation would continue. ALKI emerged not as a foreign imposition, but as part of a carefully negotiated balance between sovereignty and connectivity. In fact, ALKI gives Indonesia greater clarity over where international traffic is expected to pass and therefore where monitoring efforts can be concentrated.
Of course, openness brings risks. Foreign military vessels may transit our waters. Smuggling, environmental incidents, surveillance activities, and geopolitical competition remain real concerns. But openness also creates opportunities: ports, logistics, maritime services, diplomacy, marine data, and strategic influence.
Perhaps, then, we have been asking the wrong question. Instead of debating whether ships should be allowed to pass, we should ask how Indonesia can derive greater benefits from a reality that is here to stay.
The sea has connected Indonesia to the world for centuries. The challenge before us is not to close that connection, but to manage it wisely. The real strategic question is whether Indonesia can transform maritime openness into national advantage. That is a much more difficult question and a far more important one.