As Indonesian quietly fades from many schools, Indigenous languages are gaining ground in NSW. This shows that targeted policy, community input, and system signals can influence language program success—and what that might mean for Indonesian.

Over the past decade, Aboriginal language programs in NSW have gone from being virtually invisible to achieving notable growth. In 2013, just 444 secondary students in Years 7–9 were enrolled in an Indigenous language. By 2023, that number had risen to 2,555. 

In contrast, enrolments in Bahasa Indonesia over the same period have steadily declined—from over 4,000 to around 1,600. This isn’t a simple story of one language succeeding and another failing. It’s a signal that certain policy levers, incentives, and cultural shifts have been applied in one context—and neglected in the other.  

Indigenous anguages: gaining ground, but not mainstream 

It would be premature to suggest Aboriginal languages are now mainstream. In some schools Indigenous languages are considered fringe electives—subjects offered when staffing and timetable flexibility allow. 

But there’s no question that their visibility and legitimacy have grown. Students today are more likely to encounter Aboriginal languages on signage, in assemblies, and as part of localised learning experiences. There’s a sense that studying a local language—one with deep roots in the land and history of the place—carries cultural weight and meaning. 

This shift hasn’t happened by accident. NSW has made targeted investments: The NSW Aboriginal Languages K–10 syllabus (2017) gave schools a formal pathway for curriculum delivery; the Aboriginal Languages Trust has helped coordinate long-term development, teacher training, and resources; the Aboriginal Languages Act 2017 established a legislative framework recognising the significance of Aboriginal languages in NSW and committed the state to their revitalisation; and local communities have been supported to take the lead in designing programs, lending authenticity and connection. 

These efforts haven’t solved everything—staffing remains a challenge, and many programs might are fragile. But the system has clearly signalled that these languages matter, and schools have responded accordingly. 

Indonesian: a language without a strategy 

Bahasa Indonesia, on the other hand, suffers not from hostility—but from a lack of coordination and clear direction. While Indonesian was once supported through national and state-level strategies like NALSAS (National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools, 1994–2002) and NALSSP (National Asian Languages and Studies in Schools Program, 2008–2012), it is no longer backed by any comparable, sustained policy effort—and there are few structural incentives to support its continued place in school timetables. 

In theory, Indonesia is one of Australia’s most important neighbours. In practice, schools often struggle to justify Indonesian in a competitive elective environment. The decision to offer a particular language in schools is shaped less by national direction and more by local practicalities. School leaderships weigh up several factors when determining which languages to timetable each year. These decisions are shaped by: staffing availability, perceived student (and parent) interest, timetable space and competing elective pressures, and historical precedent and inertia.

In this environment, if Indonesian loses a teacher or sees a drop in elective enrolments, it may simply be dropped. There are no major policy nudges, resourcing incentives or accountability mechanisms to protect it. It’s not being deliberately pushed out—but in the absence of support, it quietly disappears. 

This isn’t “managed decline.” It’s something softer but just as consequential. A kind of uncoordinated drift that results in fewer programs, fewer teachers, and fewer students each year. 

The subject hasn’t been replaced by anything more strategic. It’s simply faded from view in many schools—crowded out by newer priorities, staffing constraints or a perception that “students don’t want it.” 

But that perception is shaped by what schools offer, how they frame it, and whether students see the language as relevant. And right now, most Indonesian programs are being asked to survive on legacy goodwill, rather than system-level support. 

Lessons we might apply—carefully and constructively 

There’s no value in setting Indonesian against Indigenous languages. They emerge from different histories, face different challenges, and carry different cultural meanings. But the recent momentum around Aboriginal languages does show us something important: when systems send clear signals and back them with resources, schools can respond. 

So, what would it look like to apply similar principles to Indonesian? First, treat Indonesian as a curriculum priority, not a legacy offering. Indonesian shouldn’t be offered only where it already exists. It should be supported as a language with strategic value for Australia’s future—and that support should be visible in curriculum design, school leadership messaging, and funding mechanisms.

Second, support school leaders to offer the subject. Too often, principals make curriculum decisions without the bigger picture in mind. Stronger incentives (or expectations) could help. If Indonesian is to remain in the system, schools need a reason to keep it. That might include resourcing, partnerships, or even recognition in strategic planning processes.

Third, rebuild the teacher pipeline. The teacher supply issue is shared by many languages, but Indonesian has been hit particularly hard. Without scholarships, mentoring pathways, and professional development for early-career teachers, there’s little chance of sustaining programs long term.

And fourth, frame the subject meaningfully. Where Indigenous languages draw strength from their connection to place and cultural identity, Indonesian has often lacked that same sense of grounding in the community. It’s frequently delivered through long-standing materials that, while serviceable, don’t always speak to the world of today’s learners. To connect with students, Indonesian needs an approach that draws from contemporary life and youth culture—in markets, on motorbikes, at school, over lunch. When students encounter the language through real or imagined scenes, digital storytelling, and media that mirrors how they experience the world, it becomes more immediate—not just something to study, but something that feels familiar, dynamic, and worth engaging with. 

In the end, this is a system design question 

We’ve seen how Indigenous languages—once previously sidelined—can gain ground when backed by clear policy, community input, and long-term thinking. Indonesian could follow suit, if similar effort were applied. 

It’s not about sentiment. It’s about infrastructure, it’s about strategy. If we want Indonesian to remain part of Australia’s educational landscape, we need to stop treating it as something that might survive “if students are interested,” and start treating it as something that requires structure, investment, and care—just like any other serious curriculum area. 

Andrew Catton is an Educational Content Specialist at Pondok Bahasa and a registered teacher with a passion for creating engaging Indonesian language resources. Drawing on his teaching experience, he develops practical and culturally rich content, including cinematic videos, to help Australian students connect with Indonesia in meaningful ways.

This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.