Indonesia’s ambition to step into the exclusive club of aircraft carrier operators has captured regional attention, but it has also triggered a searching debate at home about doctrine, affordability and strategic coherence. Jakarta’s reported plan to acquire the retired Italian light carrier **** is being framed as a leap toward maritime resilience and prestige. Yet beneath the symbolism lies a hard question: can Indonesia align strategy, budgets and operational readiness to make such a ship viable?
Multiple media outlets this month reported that Indonesia is pressing ahead with negotiations to receive the decommissioned vessel from Italy, potentially before the Indonesian Armed Forces’ October anniversary. Officials have suggested the transfer could be structured as a grant, instantly making Indonesia Southeast Asia’s second carrier operator after ****, Thailand’s Spanish-built light carrier.
The optics are powerful. For a nation of more than 17,000 islands straddling the Indian and Pacific Oceans, a flight deck at sea appears to symbolize sovereignty, reach and disaster-response muscle. Yet the 40-year-old, 180-meter ship risks becoming a costly “port queen” unless Indonesia invests heavily in the ecosystem required to operate and protect it—crews, escorts, aircraft, maintenance cycles and doctrine.
The Indonesian Navy has confirmed that talks with Italy and shipbuilder **** are ongoing. Officials have hinted at a rapid handover timeline, a pace that may necessitate interim Italian personnel to help operate the vessel while Indonesian sailors build proficiency. Refits would likely take place in Indonesian shipyards, a move that underscores both national pride and the political symbolism attached to the acquisition.
Symbolism, however, does not float a fleet. Aircraft carriers are not standalone assets; they are systems of systems. Without escorts—frigates, submarines, replenishment ships—and a capable air wing, a carrier is exposed and operationally constrained. Indonesia’s navy has acknowledged readiness challenges. In April 2025, Admiral Muhammad Ali, the navy chief of staff, said overall warship readiness stood at just over 60 percent, with many vessels aging and fleet size below optimal levels. Diverting scarce maintenance and manpower to a capital ship could strain the rest of the force.
Proponents argue that Indonesia’s geography makes a carrier not a luxury but a logical evolution. Writing in The Strategist in December 2025, defense analyst Pornomo Yoga argued that natural disasters—earthquakes, tsunamis, typhoons—frequently close ports, roads and airfields across the archipelago. A large-deck vessel could function as a three-in-one floating command center, hospital and airfield when land-based infrastructure is crippled.
Indonesia’s **** amphibious ships already contribute to such missions. But they can embark only a handful of helicopters, typically two to three. Garibaldi, by contrast, could support up to 18 aircraft, vastly expanding sortie generation for search and rescue, medical evacuation and supply drops.
In Indonesia, the military shoulders much of the burden during disasters. A carrier’s sustained aviation capability could speed response times across dispersed islands and reduce reliance on damaged shore facilities. In purely humanitarian terms, the argument carries weight.
Yet even this role is not cost-free. Annual operating expenses for a light carrier can run into tens of millions of dollars, depending on tempo. Fuel, aviation maintenance, spare parts, crew salaries and dockyard periods accumulate rapidly. If the ship sails rarely due to budget constraints, its disaster-response value diminishes, undermining the very rationale advanced by supporters.
Strategic logic also features prominently. In a September 2025 article in Kompas, Madina Nusrat suggested a carrier could help safeguard sovereignty around the Natuna Islands and Indonesia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), areas where Chinese maritime presence has tested Jakarta’s resolve. At minimum, she argued, the acquisition would lay symbolic foundations for a future blue-water navy.
There is also reported interest in operating Turkish **** unmanned combat aerial vehicles from the ship. Designed for short takeoff and landing on small decks, the TB3 offers surveillance and limited strike capabilities. If integrated successfully, such drones could enhance maritime domain awareness over contested waters without the political sensitivities attached to manned fighters.
But drones are not panaceas. Compared to manned short takeoff and vertical landing (STOVL) jets such as the retired ****, the TB3 carries lighter payloads and has shorter range. Its endurance may be suitable for reconnaissance, but its strike capacity is modest. A drone-centric air wing would limit the ship’s deterrent value against sophisticated adversaries.
Small carriers face an inherent trade-off. With an air wing capped at roughly 18 aircraft, allocating more platforms to strike missions reduces the number available for fleet air defense. Prioritizing defensive combat air patrols, in turn, blunts offensive punch. This offense–defense dilemma has grown sharper in an era defined by anti-ship ballistic missiles, cruise missiles and quiet submarines.
Carrier survivability is increasingly contested. Even major naval powers invest heavily in layered defenses—Aegis destroyers, submarines, electronic warfare and space-based sensors—to shield their carriers. Indonesia’s navy, optimized for littoral operations and constrained budgets, would struggle to replicate such protective envelopes.
Defense analyst Gilang Kembara, writing in March 2025, questioned the utility of acquiring ex-Italian Harriers for humanitarian missions, arguing they would add little to disaster response while imposing high operating costs. He pointed to Thailand’s experience with Chakri Naruebet, whose Harriers were eventually retired due to maintenance challenges and expense, leaving the ship underutilized for years.
Indonesia lacks STOVL jets and has not announced plans to procure the ****, the only fifth-generation STOVL fighter in production. Without such aircraft, Garibaldi would operate helicopters and drones but lack the high-end air combat capability typically associated with carriers. Procuring F-35Bs would entail billions of dollars in acquisition and lifecycle costs, far beyond the hull transfer itself.
Another layer of complexity involves regional perceptions. Singapore is acquiring F-35 fighters, and Australia is pursuing nuclear-powered submarines under the AUKUS framework. Kembara cautioned that introducing a carrier with an offensive air wing could send mixed signals, potentially unsettling neighbors who view Indonesia’s traditionally non-aligned, defensive posture as stabilizing.
Indonesia’s foreign policy has long emphasized strategic autonomy and friendly relations. Carriers are historically associated with power projection and expeditionary warfare. While Jakarta could frame Garibaldi as a humanitarian and sovereignty-enforcement tool, optics matter. The acquisition might complicate diplomatic messaging, particularly if accompanied by strike-capable aircraft.
From a systems perspective, analysts at Singapore’s **** warned in a May 2025 report that Garibaldi could impose high long-term costs for training, maintenance and infrastructure expansion, crowding out more urgent priorities such as submarines, maritime patrol aircraft and coastal missile batteries.
Perhaps the most fundamental question is doctrinal. In an October 2025 article in the Indonesian Maritime Journal, Dickry Nurdiansyah described Indonesia’s naval posture as “Benteng Nusantara” or Fortress of the Archipelago—a fundamentally defensive, littoral-centric strategy built on sea denial rather than global power projection.
Under this concept, Indonesia emphasizes layered anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities: coastal missile batteries, submarines, mines, fast attack craft and integrated command-and-control networks. The goal is to raise the cost of intervention in Indonesian waters, not to project force abroad. Power projection, where it exists, is calibrated for internal mobility, sovereignty enforcement and humanitarian assistance.
A carrier, especially one lacking advanced fighters, does not neatly fit this paradigm. It is a high-value, high-visibility asset that demands protection and can become a focal point in crisis scenarios. For a navy optimized for green-water operations and fiscal prudence, the addition of a light carrier represents a conceptual leap.
Foreign policy scholars Trystanto Sanjaya and Alfin Basundoro argued in an October 2025 article for the **** that carriers are designed primarily for offensive operations and distant power projection. Given Indonesia’s relatively amicable foreign policy and absence of expeditionary ambitions, they questioned whether Jakarta would ever employ such a platform in the manner for which it was conceived.
Every defense acquisition carries opportunity costs. Funds allocated to Garibaldi could otherwise modernize aging frigates, expand submarine fleets, enhance maritime patrol aviation or strengthen coastal missile networks—all directly aligned with the sea-denial doctrine Nurdiansyah outlines.
Indonesia’s fleet readiness figures underscore the challenge. With just over 60 percent of warships fully ready, sustaining a carrier strike group would require significant investment in maintenance backlogs and crew training pipelines. Carrier operations are manpower-intensive; hundreds of specialized sailors and aviators must train continuously to maintain deck safety and sortie generation rates.
Infrastructure is another hurdle. Carrier berthing facilities, aviation fuel storage, munitions depots and simulator complexes require capital outlays. Even if the hull transfer is nominally free, lifecycle costs can dwarf acquisition price.
Yet dismissing Garibaldi outright may overlook potential long-term benefits. As a lower-cost, second-hand platform, it could serve as a training laboratory—a floating classroom to build institutional knowledge in carrier operations before committing to a larger, more modern vessel.
Operating even a light carrier demands mastery of deck choreography, aviation logistics, maintenance cycles and joint command integration. If Indonesia envisions a future blue-water capability decades hence, starting with a modest platform may provide experiential learning at relatively contained cost—provided budgets are sustained and doctrine evolves accordingly.
The key variable is follow-through. A carrier without escorts, air wings and doctrine becomes an expensive symbol. With sustained investment, however, it could incrementally expand Indonesia’s operational vocabulary.
In the end, Garibaldi’s fate will hinge less on hull steel than on strategic alignment. If Indonesia integrates the ship into a coherent maritime strategy—balancing humanitarian roles, sovereignty enforcement and measured signaling—it may extract value beyond symbolism. If, however, budgets falter and readiness gaps persist, the carrier could strain resources and distract from more pressing needs.
Indonesia stands at a maritime crossroads. Its geography invites ambition; its doctrine counsels prudence. The retired Italian carrier offers a tangible test of whether aspiration can be reconciled with fiscal and operational realities.
Giuseppe Garibaldi may yet sail under the Indonesian flag as a platform for disaster relief drills, drone experimentation and naval diplomacy. But it also risks becoming a floating stress test—of whether strategy, budgets, escorts and air wings can truly match ambition in the world’s largest archipelagic state.
Indonesia’s Maritime Ambition Sets Sail with Garibaldi- But Without Jets, Escorts and Doctrine, Dream Could Stall at Port
Indonesia’s ambition to step into the exclusive club of aircraft carrier operators has captured regional attention, but it has also triggered a searching debate at home about doctrine, affordability and strategic coherence. Jakarta’s reported plan to acquire the retired Italian light carrier **** is being framed as a leap toward maritime resilience and prestige. Yet beneath the symbolism lies a hard question: can Indonesia align strategy, budgets and operational readiness to make such a ship viable?
Multiple media outlets this month reported that Indonesia is pressing ahead with negotiations to receive the decommissioned vessel from Italy, potentially before the Indonesian Armed Forces’ October anniversary. Officials have suggested the transfer could be structured as a grant, instantly making Indonesia Southeast Asia’s second carrier operator after ****, Thailand’s Spanish-built light carrier.
The optics are powerful. For a nation of more than 17,000 islands straddling the Indian and Pacific Oceans, a flight deck at sea appears to symbolize sovereignty, reach and disaster-response muscle. Yet the 40-year-old, 180-meter ship risks becoming a costly “port queen” unless Indonesia invests heavily in the ecosystem required to operate and protect it—crews, escorts, aircraft, maintenance cycles and doctrine.
The Indonesian Navy has confirmed that talks with Italy and shipbuilder **** are ongoing. Officials have hinted at a rapid handover timeline, a pace that may necessitate interim Italian personnel to help operate the vessel while Indonesian sailors build proficiency. Refits would likely take place in Indonesian shipyards, a move that underscores both national pride and the political symbolism attached to the acquisition.
Symbolism, however, does not float a fleet. Aircraft carriers are not standalone assets; they are systems of systems. Without escorts—frigates, submarines, replenishment ships—and a capable air wing, a carrier is exposed and operationally constrained. Indonesia’s navy has acknowledged readiness challenges. In April 2025, Admiral Muhammad Ali, the navy chief of staff, said overall warship readiness stood at just over 60 percent, with many vessels aging and fleet size below optimal levels. Diverting scarce maintenance and manpower to a capital ship could strain the rest of the force.
Proponents argue that Indonesia’s geography makes a carrier not a luxury but a logical evolution. Writing in The Strategist in December 2025, defense analyst Pornomo Yoga argued that natural disasters—earthquakes, tsunamis, typhoons—frequently close ports, roads and airfields across the archipelago. A large-deck vessel could function as a three-in-one floating command center, hospital and airfield when land-based infrastructure is crippled.
Indonesia’s **** amphibious ships already contribute to such missions. But they can embark only a handful of helicopters, typically two to three. Garibaldi, by contrast, could support up to 18 aircraft, vastly expanding sortie generation for search and rescue, medical evacuation and supply drops.
In Indonesia, the military shoulders much of the burden during disasters. A carrier’s sustained aviation capability could speed response times across dispersed islands and reduce reliance on damaged shore facilities. In purely humanitarian terms, the argument carries weight.
Yet even this role is not cost-free. Annual operating expenses for a light carrier can run into tens of millions of dollars, depending on tempo. Fuel, aviation maintenance, spare parts, crew salaries and dockyard periods accumulate rapidly. If the ship sails rarely due to budget constraints, its disaster-response value diminishes, undermining the very rationale advanced by supporters.
Strategic logic also features prominently. In a September 2025 article in Kompas, Madina Nusrat suggested a carrier could help safeguard sovereignty around the Natuna Islands and Indonesia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), areas where Chinese maritime presence has tested Jakarta’s resolve. At minimum, she argued, the acquisition would lay symbolic foundations for a future blue-water navy.
There is also reported interest in operating Turkish **** unmanned combat aerial vehicles from the ship. Designed for short takeoff and landing on small decks, the TB3 offers surveillance and limited strike capabilities. If integrated successfully, such drones could enhance maritime domain awareness over contested waters without the political sensitivities attached to manned fighters.
But drones are not panaceas. Compared to manned short takeoff and vertical landing (STOVL) jets such as the retired ****, the TB3 carries lighter payloads and has shorter range. Its endurance may be suitable for reconnaissance, but its strike capacity is modest. A drone-centric air wing would limit the ship’s deterrent value against sophisticated adversaries.
Small carriers face an inherent trade-off. With an air wing capped at roughly 18 aircraft, allocating more platforms to strike missions reduces the number available for fleet air defense. Prioritizing defensive combat air patrols, in turn, blunts offensive punch. This offense–defense dilemma has grown sharper in an era defined by anti-ship ballistic missiles, cruise missiles and quiet submarines.
Carrier survivability is increasingly contested. Even major naval powers invest heavily in layered defenses—Aegis destroyers, submarines, electronic warfare and space-based sensors—to shield their carriers. Indonesia’s navy, optimized for littoral operations and constrained budgets, would struggle to replicate such protective envelopes.
Defense analyst Gilang Kembara, writing in March 2025, questioned the utility of acquiring ex-Italian Harriers for humanitarian missions, arguing they would add little to disaster response while imposing high operating costs. He pointed to Thailand’s experience with Chakri Naruebet, whose Harriers were eventually retired due to maintenance challenges and expense, leaving the ship underutilized for years.
Indonesia lacks STOVL jets and has not announced plans to procure the ****, the only fifth-generation STOVL fighter in production. Without such aircraft, Garibaldi would operate helicopters and drones but lack the high-end air combat capability typically associated with carriers. Procuring F-35Bs would entail billions of dollars in acquisition and lifecycle costs, far beyond the hull transfer itself.
Another layer of complexity involves regional perceptions. Singapore is acquiring F-35 fighters, and Australia is pursuing nuclear-powered submarines under the AUKUS framework. Kembara cautioned that introducing a carrier with an offensive air wing could send mixed signals, potentially unsettling neighbors who view Indonesia’s traditionally non-aligned, defensive posture as stabilizing.
Indonesia’s foreign policy has long emphasized strategic autonomy and friendly relations. Carriers are historically associated with power projection and expeditionary warfare. While Jakarta could frame Garibaldi as a humanitarian and sovereignty-enforcement tool, optics matter. The acquisition might complicate diplomatic messaging, particularly if accompanied by strike-capable aircraft.
From a systems perspective, analysts at Singapore’s **** warned in a May 2025 report that Garibaldi could impose high long-term costs for training, maintenance and infrastructure expansion, crowding out more urgent priorities such as submarines, maritime patrol aircraft and coastal missile batteries.
Perhaps the most fundamental question is doctrinal. In an October 2025 article in the Indonesian Maritime Journal, Dickry Nurdiansyah described Indonesia’s naval posture as “Benteng Nusantara” or Fortress of the Archipelago—a fundamentally defensive, littoral-centric strategy built on sea denial rather than global power projection.
Under this concept, Indonesia emphasizes layered anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities: coastal missile batteries, submarines, mines, fast attack craft and integrated command-and-control networks. The goal is to raise the cost of intervention in Indonesian waters, not to project force abroad. Power projection, where it exists, is calibrated for internal mobility, sovereignty enforcement and humanitarian assistance.
A carrier, especially one lacking advanced fighters, does not neatly fit this paradigm. It is a high-value, high-visibility asset that demands protection and can become a focal point in crisis scenarios. For a navy optimized for green-water operations and fiscal prudence, the addition of a light carrier represents a conceptual leap.
Foreign policy scholars Trystanto Sanjaya and Alfin Basundoro argued in an October 2025 article for the **** that carriers are designed primarily for offensive operations and distant power projection. Given Indonesia’s relatively amicable foreign policy and absence of expeditionary ambitions, they questioned whether Jakarta would ever employ such a platform in the manner for which it was conceived.
Every defense acquisition carries opportunity costs. Funds allocated to Garibaldi could otherwise modernize aging frigates, expand submarine fleets, enhance maritime patrol aviation or strengthen coastal missile networks—all directly aligned with the sea-denial doctrine Nurdiansyah outlines.
Indonesia’s fleet readiness figures underscore the challenge. With just over 60 percent of warships fully ready, sustaining a carrier strike group would require significant investment in maintenance backlogs and crew training pipelines. Carrier operations are manpower-intensive; hundreds of specialized sailors and aviators must train continuously to maintain deck safety and sortie generation rates.
Infrastructure is another hurdle. Carrier berthing facilities, aviation fuel storage, munitions depots and simulator complexes require capital outlays. Even if the hull transfer is nominally free, lifecycle costs can dwarf acquisition price.
Yet dismissing Garibaldi outright may overlook potential long-term benefits. As a lower-cost, second-hand platform, it could serve as a training laboratory—a floating classroom to build institutional knowledge in carrier operations before committing to a larger, more modern vessel.
Operating even a light carrier demands mastery of deck choreography, aviation logistics, maintenance cycles and joint command integration. If Indonesia envisions a future blue-water capability decades hence, starting with a modest platform may provide experiential learning at relatively contained cost—provided budgets are sustained and doctrine evolves accordingly.
The key variable is follow-through. A carrier without escorts, air wings and doctrine becomes an expensive symbol. With sustained investment, however, it could incrementally expand Indonesia’s operational vocabulary.
In the end, Garibaldi’s fate will hinge less on hull steel than on strategic alignment. If Indonesia integrates the ship into a coherent maritime strategy—balancing humanitarian roles, sovereignty enforcement and measured signaling—it may extract value beyond symbolism. If, however, budgets falter and readiness gaps persist, the carrier could strain resources and distract from more pressing needs.
Indonesia stands at a maritime crossroads. Its geography invites ambition; its doctrine counsels prudence. The retired Italian carrier offers a tangible test of whether aspiration can be reconciled with fiscal and operational realities.
Giuseppe Garibaldi may yet sail under the Indonesian flag as a platform for disaster relief drills, drone experimentation and naval diplomacy. But it also risks becoming a floating stress test—of whether strategy, budgets, escorts and air wings can truly match ambition in the world’s largest archipelagic state.
