I grew up during the US government’s War-on-Drugs. The battlegrounds (as far as my feeble child-mind was aware) were the hearts and minds of America’s youth. Childhood classics like Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Bernstein Bears shared shelf space with the San Francisco Department of Public Health’s informational booklets on popular drugs. The cartoons of perpetually confused glue-sniffers and pill junkies inexplicably pulled me in a way that testicular self-examination booklets, overly-brave teens, and tangentially-moral bears never did. My 3rd-grade teacher was justifiably alarmed that I knew far too much about illegal narcotics. It was a good time to be a kid.
Perhaps the bigger challenge of that day was tackling Big Tobacco. The US government and its nonprofit anti-smoking partners cast wide nets. Health classes nationwide showed videos of blackened lungs and canisters of cigarette butts. Comics featured public service announcements on the dangers of smoking. Anti-smoking television ads showed elderly adults smoking through their tracheostomies and mournfully wishing someone would have told them to stop years ago.
On the other side, Big Tobacco placed cigarette ads on billboards, print magazines, and race cars. Suave Joe Camel smiled as he sucked on his cancer stick. Masculine cowboys gazed hard into the sunset with lit Marlboros hanging from the corner of their mouths. Femme fatales in cocktail gowns held long cigarette holders with a sensuous “come hither” look.
The US government won in 1999. Billboards and public advertising were banned. Camels, cowboys, flapper girls, and cigarette logos disappeared everywhere. Tobacco sponsorship of product placement in shows and movies dropped significantly. Cigarette prices soared due to massive government taxes. The number of smokers fell steadily from 30% of the population (in the 80’s) to 20% by 2000.
A Recently-Ended Detente
In 2005, Phillips-Morris International brought Big Tobacco America into Indonesia when they bought 40% of Sampoerna’s shares. They now own 30% of the 2nd largest cigarette market in the world, behind China. Roughly 30% of the population smokes or vapes. The grand majority of smokers are men (66% of the male population) and evenly distributed between ages of 25-50. Then again, with very little exception, most of my female friends smoke too. I find it a little odd that I managed to befriend so many from the 3% of Indonesian females that smoke.
On the surface, the national government had already waged war with Big Tobacco Indonesia. Some of the major laws the government put into place: (a) smoking and cigarettes may not be shown on cigarette ads; (b) pictures of cancer and tracheotomies must be shown on cigarette cartons; (c) cigarette ads are only allowed to be shown on television between 10pm - 5am; and (d) 38% of the cigarette tax is earmarked for Indonesia’s universal health insurance. Yet the laws did not accomplish much because the government and the tobacco industry were actually solid bedfellows.
Big Tobacco was kicked from the bed in 2024 when the government launched an aggressive set of anti-smoking laws. Most of the new laws are meant to prohibit young smokers from starting: (a) pictures of cancer patients/survivors must cover 50% of the box; (b) flavorings and additives are prohibited; (c) advertising prohibited within some distance from schools; and (d) raised minimum age. Most importantly, the sale of single cigarettes is banned and the minimum price has been significantly raised. The government did not raise the excise tax as a compromise to Big Tobacco. Big Tobacco and the Government are bedfellows no longer, but perhaps still housemates. It remains to be seen whether they will enforce those laws. The government is currently busy attempting to stamp out the rise of untaxed (thus cheaper) cigarettes.
The importance of tobacco to the national economy cannot be underestimated. The tobacco industry provides: (a) 5% of manufacturing jobs in Indonesia; (b) millions of jobs in tobacco and clove farming; (c) a sizable income to the national GDP; and (d) income to the government in the form of tobacco excise taxes. The aforementioned 38% sounds large until one realizes that the cost of one pack was roughly $1 USD or less (until recently). The actual income was, and still is, very little compared to the costs incurred by the state related to medical care for smoking-related diseases. In short, the government couldn’t live with Big Tobacco in the long-term, but most certainly won’t live without it in the short-term.
What is Big Tobacco to do? Buy billboards, the biggerer the betterer. Or at least, make them as ubiquitous as possible (which they have done admirably well). Government restrictions force Big Tobacco Indonesia to become increasingly inventive with its advertising. Some are goofy; many are clever; none are mundane.
Exhibit A: Enduring Strength
A sea of desert dunes is featured. In the middle, a green bush, small and certainly digitally colored or even digitally placed. The tagline: “Surrender is not an option.” I understand the bush/desert concept, but the ad is ludicrously nonsensical.
What situation does the ad describe? Indonesia’s smoking rate (as well as the public opinion around smoking) has remained unchanged since 2011. The average smoker is not liable to be face public shame for smoking. In fact, many of my friends describe themselves (falsely or not) as “social smokers”, indicating that smoking is actually a social lubricant rather than repellent. Is L.A. Lights indicating to their customer base that their company will never give up the ghost? At a sizable 10% of the market share in Indonesia, they are not in danger of closure.
My best guess is that the desert symbolizes the smokers’ feelings of withdrawal when they don’t have cigarettes. Smart, except that such a message would signal the company’s insidious willingness to encourage and even entrap people into addiction.
Surya Pro’s billboards feature a young Polynesian man with tribal tatoos doing pushups, or a young Caucasian man (with the rugged 5 o’clock shadow!) swimming in a dirty river. Their tagline says, “Never quit.” A little too on the nose, that. At least one knows where one stands.
Exhibit B: Masculinity
Imagine a dark room with a high armchair. To the side of the armchair is a black panther, tiger, or some other jungle cat (or a digitally enlarged housecat?). Or imagine a simple living room decorated in red and gold (the brand colors) with a luxuriously stuffed sofa, the kind Indonesians can only own if the AC units go full blast.
There is always a man. The man and his style are almost always the same: ruggedly handsome, chiseled features, well-trimmed beard, a racially ambiguous mixture of Indonesian, Middle-Eastern, and Darker-European features. He wears a black sport jacket and white collar shirt with the top button undone, no tie. Sometimes there is an expensive watch. He’s essentially every cool man you’ve ever wanted to be. You are that man.
You sit in the armchair or stand in the front. You smolder intently into the camera. The word “charisma” might hover near you in bright orange because nothing draws more ladies than a good smolder. Most Indonesian men will never achieve this picture because they aren’t tall or light-skinned. Most certainly can’t grow enough facial hair for a well-manicured beard. Yet it’s the fantasy that’s important.
The tagline is “Pria punya selera [Men have preferences]”. Cute and pithy. I am unsure of the connections between manliness, preference, jungle cats, and luxury, but the reasoning hardly matters as much as the association itself. The ads must work to some extent, because Gudang Garam (Goo-dahng Gah-rahm) controls 21% of Indonesia’s cigarette market.
Exhibit C: Cool Factor
You’re in a concert hall. The music is staid; the listeners listless. You pick up your electric guitar. The lights go on and your band starts up full swing. Everyone is rockin’ out to the music. You, the lead guitarist and vocalist, decide to do a stage dive (with guitar!) into the expectant hands of your fans below. The crowds go wild!! The question then becomes what is supposed to be gained from smoking this brand. Celebrity? The feeling of it? Questionable choices?
You hike through a jungle. Close-in to your face with a rugged 5 o’clock shadow, pan out again. You’re in a snow-parka, on top of a snow-capped peak. You look out to a distant horizon in victory. The camera cues in on your yawp of jubilant victory then pans out again as you make the winning shot for your basketball team. Djarum guarantees you will be a victor, or at least feel like one. I wonder if any viewers are struck by the irony that heavy smokers are the ones least likely to be succeed in high-altitude mountaineering and extended bouts of professional basketball.
Cue a different ad. You are young, college age or above. A virtual reality headset is on your head. Disparate images of dune buggy and motorcycle races, even downhill skiing, populate the remaining billboard space. Your mouth hangs agape in amazement and enjoyment. That’s what you get for smoking L.A. Lights. My best-guess translation: Smoking L.A. Lights is expensive, simulated excitement. You can almost feel the wind in your face. Apropos to smoking light cigarettes if it’s anything like drinking light beer.*
Exhibit D: The Rebel
You walk alone on a dark street at night. The sky is illuminated by lightning. It’s raining hard. Strapped to your back is a flamin’ red electric guitar, inexplicably hanging upside-down. For whatever reason, the ad only captures your lower half, but your lower half easily communicates that you don’t seem to mind this wet state of affairs. The tagline? “Ini cara gue” [This is my way]. This is the language of youthful coolness. You don’t give a shit that your bandmates left you alone on the road with your guitar. You certainly don’t give any fucks that your expensive guitar (and chosen method of livelihood) is getting waterlogged. You walk this road alone.
You’re a young Chinese Indonesian (itself an unusual choice). You wear a dark neon blue blazer and trousers, white sneakers with blue, untied laces. You shrug with a lazy, self-indulgent smile, as if to say, “Why not be comfortable in my own skin?” Around him are four young adults dressed in clothes reminiscent of high school uniforms (but all clearly in their mid-20s). The woman gaze at him with adoration. The men contemplate how to become him. This ad’s tagline: “Different Clas(s), why should [you] be the same [way]?”
Another Clas Mild ad features two legs in tight flooded jeans. The socks are light blue; the sneakers are hideous. It’s tagline: “If [you’re] confident, why [are you] afraid to be wrong?” Indeed, the ad took the idea of being different to a whole new level. Will the women still adore you? Will men still want to become you? Ah, those are the wrong questions. To be adored and envied is coincidental. The real question is if you are confident enough to be a peacock among pigeons.
Exhibit E: The Smartass
The brand that perhaps causes the most internet discourse is Sampoerna. It is not the wealthy playboy that is Gudang Garam, nor a rebel like Clas, nor rock star like Djarum. Sampoerna is the snarky intellectual. Sampoerna’s billboards are a simple white background, black print in helvetica font, and cleverly subversive statements.
The following is a set from the “bukan main” [”Not playing”] ad campaign.
- “You are the one at fault; you are the one that’s fierce.”
- “After the hoax, then comes clarification”
- “[You] can cut in line, so why are you queuing?!”
- “[Your] right hand gives, your left hand selfies.”
- “You’re not smart if you don’t comment.”
Each of these addressed a hot-button topic trending over the internet at the time of the ad campaign: (a) those who act tough in public to save face, (b) the cycle of internet hoaxes and subsequent clarifications; (c) those who can’t/won’t wait in line; (d) those who use others’ downtrodden lives as internet content; and (e) those who must comment on everything.
As intended, each one started a buzz. Masters students dissected Sampoerna billboard content for discourse analysis. Even nonsmokers entered in on the hype. The snarky intellectual won the hearts and minds of the Indonesian public. Sampoerna controls between 28-35% of Big Tobacco Indonesia.
Veil of Smoke
The sad irony of Indonesian cigarette advertising is that so much of it is aspirational fantasy. The high life depicted by Gudang Garam is out of reach for 99% of Indonesia’s population. The rapidly-shrinking middle class (20% of the population) can afford to buy a VR headset but most likely would not. Some percentage of the “aspirational class” [read: working class with enough human and social capital to perhaps achieve socioeconomic mobility] can buy an electric guitar to waterlog in the rain. The 79% comprising the majority (”aspirational”, working poor, extreme poverty) will never leave their home islands within their lifetime, let alone climb snow-capped peaks or race through sand dunes.
Then there is the fact that to stand out is terribly un-Indonesian. “Ini cara gue” [This is my way] is antithetical to the standard Indonesian way of life. One’s path is deeply tied to family and community. To willingly stand out is to be arrogant. The ones who strike out on their own are usually pariahs in some way. In a tangential vein, it is highly unusual for Indonesians to hang out alone. Indeed, most Indonesians do not enjoy solitary activity whatsoever.
Near my house is a kedai (small 3-walled spaces that sell sachet coffee and a place to sit). Inside are usually five or six men, from college age to mid-50s. Some wear chinos and tees, others shorts and beaters, yet others work clothes. They watch soccer, play on their phones, or natter in the blue-gray smoke. Each is drawn there by cheap coffee, easy conversation, and a place to smoke together.
These men are from the 80%. Almost all started at a young age, possibly around middle school. Most started when a friend or male in the family invited them to try a cigarette. They took it for fear of missing out, of being different from their peers. To them, a man’s real preference is the one they can afford while allowing them to eat at least one meal a day.
Many could not afford to finish middle school. A few could not afford to finish elementary. Even those that finished high school might be less than proficient in mathematics, reading, or science. Consequently, many can tell you how many packs they smoke per day/week. Most could not tell you how much they spend per week/month on smoking. Most cannot comprehend the terms, conditions, and limitations of their state-sponsored health insurance. Most will be surprised when they deplete their national health insurance policies far earlier than expected.
So it is possible that the men in the kedai might natter about Sampoerna’s “bukan main” billboards. It is far more likely they will complain about the difficulties of the day. Yet on that odd hour when a man smokes alone, maybe he escapes through the veil of smoke. He walks his own path alongside his tamed jungle cat, adored by beautiful young ladies and envied by men.
*Note that the “light” cigarettes in Indonesia still contain higher than average amounts of nicotine and tar compared to their American counterparts.