Indonesia’s debate over acquiring an aircraft carrier often covers cost, military role and image. Critics say such ships are offensive in nature or merely symbols of prestige. But the entire conversation changes the moment a major disaster hits. In Indonesia, disasters are not unusual shocks; they arrive with the regularity of seasons.

A disaster did hit in late November: cyclone Senyar caused widespread flooding and landslides across Sumatra. The crisis showed warships to be among the few assets able to sustain nationwide humanitarian operations when everything else failed. In this context, the question is not why Indonesia needs a carrier but why the idea still feels extraordinary.

The long-running idea of acquiring an aircraft carrier moved closer to realisation in September, when Navy Chief Admiral Muhammad Ali confirmed that the service was studying the purchase of Italy’s Giuseppe Garibaldi, a retired light aircraft carrier of 10,300 tonnes standard displacement. With exploratory steps already underway, the proposal has shifted from concept to a genuine procurement option on the national agenda.

In Indonesia, disasters repeatedly shut ports, crack runways and cut roads. Civilian logistics fail fast, but the sea stays open. Large warships then become floating hubs—command posts, medical facilities and aviation decks in one. In a country shaped by water, maritime access is often the only route left.

Some argue that Indonesia should rely on its LPD assault ships of just over 7,000 tons, since they can carry helicopters and—because they are smaller than Garibaldi—could enter smaller and therefore more numerous ports. Access to wharves is hardly relevant, however: when a major disaster strikes, ports are inaccessible and ships rarely berth. They anchor offshore and send their helicopters to help.

The helicopters cannot reliably transfer to land bases, because aviation facilities ashore are also usually knocked out.

So the most important factor is the number of helicopters that can be operated from flight decks. And on that point, an aircraft carrier is in an altogether different category to an LPD. Each of the eight LPDs can operate three to five helicopters. Garibaldi would contribute about 18.

Some argue that Indonesia should build a specialised civilian disaster-response ship instead of acquiring a naval platform. In practice, that idea does not match institutional realities. Running a ship with significant aviation capacity is complex. The Indonesian Navy has this capacity; no civilian agency does. A civilian ship would also sit idle between emergencies, whereas a warship would be used constantly for training and surveillance—keeping skills warm and readiness high.

Another suggestion has been that it would be better to direct the budget to the civilian institutions whose primary mandate is disaster relief. But this overlooks how Indonesia works in moments of crisis. The disaster-management system is indeed civilian-led on paper, yet when a major event occurs, the armed forces carry the operational burden. The military has the manpower, lift capacity, logistics chain and ability to deploy across the archipelago at short notice—capabilities no civilian agency currently possesses or could realistically develop for a ship of this scale. Calling a carrier ‘too military’ therefore misses the point: the armed forces already perform the hardest parts of disaster response. An aircraft carrier with its end-to-end flight deck would simply allow them to do the same mission faster, more safely and at far greater scale. (If the ship carried no fixed-wing aircraft, it would by convention be classified as a helicopter carrier.)

A ship of this type also brings strategic value. Even when mainly justified for humanitarian missions, it contributes to deterrence and regional stability. It signals reach, readiness and professionalism without forcing Indonesia into a confrontational posture.

For Indonesia, it would also reinforce the navy’s regional credibility—demonstrating it is steadily moving towards a true blue-water profile and closer to the long-discussed optimum essential force. Such a ship would not only serve national resilience but also elevate Indonesia’s standing as a capable, confident maritime power.

Indonesia’s vulnerability to recurring disasters, combined with the scale of the archipelago and its reliance on helicopters, makes a light aircraft carrier less a strategic luxury than an instrument of national resilience. When civilian systems fail, maritime platforms keep the country connected. The broader strategic benefits—deterrence, presence and regional engagement—are real, but the humanitarian need is the one that returns year after year.

So the real question is not whether Indonesia can justify acquiring such a ship; it is whether a disaster-prone archipelagic state can afford not to have one.