Your ‘For You Page’ is not only your seller, but your life manager now. It tells you where to go, what to do, and how to interact. Doomscrolling has not only become a thoughtless dopamine-inducing hobby but my most reliable dopamine hit. Lately, though, the algorithm has lost its grip on me.
My dear algorithm has become convinced that what I really want to see is “a day in my life” content from White Aussies in Bali. It seems to think I would immensely enjoy watching copy-and-paste content of the sun setting over infinity pools in Ubud or exotic villas overlooking rice paddies or to dazzle myself with the neon lights at the world’s biggest beach club – all through the screen of my phone.
Source: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DXob5xwk6xg/?igsh=MXNxZDdxdnEzY3Jzeg==
For the 1.67 million Australians who visited Indonesia last year, those videos were likely all it took to press ‘pay now’ on the flight fare. As for me, they’re nothing short to the reason of why I laid my beloved phone to rest, but not before forwarding it to the group chat with a classic “here we go again”.
Only after spending some much-needed time away from my phone did I untangle why these videos bothered me so much. On the surface, they’re harmless. They’re breathtakingly aesthetic, inspirational and well-edited. But altogether, they sell a version of Bali that is foreign enough to feel adventurous, but comfortable enough to never pose Bali-goers any real challenges. Our descent into modernism projects a destination where Seminyak becomes an extension of Surfers Paradise, local customs are treated as laid-off options, and the comments section of every #Bali post has someone shamelessly marvelling at the cheap cocktails, cheap tattoos or how “easy” Island life is.
Earlier this year, American company Tripadvisor crowned Bali the world’s top travel destination under the “Best of the Best Destinations” awards, going as far as to dub it a “living postcard”. The comedic side of it, however, is that postcards offer nothing of sustenance, similar to the idealised photos and curated realities you see on Instagram stories. The collective consciousness of society is first woefully ruined, and then blissfully drenched in daydreams of these unforgiving idyllic versions of places.
The symmetrical, lush beauty of Penglipuran Village, one of Bali’s oldest and most preserved traditional villages (Supplied: Clarissa Suria)
Tracing back to the 19th century, Bali was made up of nine independent kingdoms before the Dutch seized complete control over the island in 1908 with violent military campaigns. By the early 20th century, the Dutch East Indies administration was actively producing tourism materials that sanitised the brutality of conquest into something palatable for Europeans. Bali was known as the perfect sanctuary with perfect soil, waters, mountains that draw down to the last grain of sand. The [Michelangelo’s David] of the tourism extravaganza, it unwillingly built itself as the distant, peaceful, and tasteful “Island of the Gods.” Soon after, postcolonial Western artists came rolling through with enough riches and spiritual rags to fulfill their empty artistic visions. Primitivist painters such as Walter Spies and Rudolf Bonnet settled on the island, chugging out unseen media of the new world where their work exported a romanticised version abroad.
“In 1923, Walter Spies embarked on a journey from Europe to the tropics in search of a new world and artistic inspiration… Spies’ legacy remains enduringly influential in Bali a century after his arrival on the island. Regarded by Balinese as a pioneer of modernism on the island, Spies underwent a profound artistic transformation under the pervasive influence of Balinese art”.
Source: https://www.nowbali.co.id/roots-exhibition-one-hundred-years-of-walters-spies-in-bali/
“One of the most influential figures in the evolution of modern Balinese art, Rudolf Bonnet was a Dutch artist whose deep connection with Bali transformed not only his own artistic vision but also the trajectory of the island’s visual culture. He acted as a cultural bridge, advocating for the dignity of Balinese art and helping elevate it onto the international stage”.
Source: https://heni.com/news?artist=Rudolf%20Bonnet
Tourism pamphlet issued by the Travellers Official Information Bureau of Netherland India. (Source: Catatan Nusantara)
What started as a colonial marketing ploy has, to many degrees, never stopped and only worsened. The twenty first century rise of social media and technologies has further democratised it. With the freedom of self-expression, you no longer need to have the pedigree of Spies or Bonnet. And with postcards being outdated, we now welcome them into our everyday online feed.
THE WELLNESS EXPORT
Wellness has become one of Bali’s biggest exports, but it has squeezed itself into a ‘clean girl’ portrayal, designed around foreign purchasing power rather than local life or interest.
Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/DHu25vOzLYr/
MAJA Spa & Wellness Studio in Canggu, owned by German-Australian travel content creators Marie Fe and Jake Snow charges IDR 180,000 ($14.61 AUD) for a 45-minute Pilates class. On the oblivious side, it is a bargain for visitors but amounts up to almost 10 hours’ work for a local on Bali’s minimum wage. Nothing screams ‘Zen’ quite like pricing out the local community you built your brand on, and the algorithm, evidently, rewards content that keeps the colonial gaze alive.
THE “ALL-INCLUSIVE” COMMUNITY
Entourage Bali has marketed itself as a “curated social community”, bringing together “travellers, nomads, and expats through well-curated experiences at Bali’s best spots”. Its ‘silent disco run club’ has become one of the island’s most recognisable social media fixtures: sunset runs, wireless headphones and the kind of herd mentality that the algorithm loves.
Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/DY1tebzjzZz/ (post has since been taken down by @entourage.bali)
Surprise, surprise: the community was founded by two Dutch nationals, Hidde van Vliet and Joost Storms.
Although anyone can click “join now” on Entourage’s website and create an account free of charge, joining the community is not automatic: applicants must first complete a questionnaire before their membership is reviewed and approved. The platform came under fire after WhatsApp conversations appeared to show Indonesian applicants being rejected while applicants with Western names and foreign phone numbers were approved almost immediately. In an Instagram statement responding to the allegations Entourage Bali stated that the platform was “for digital nomads” and that the outcome was an error in the “automated approval process… (where) a bias was created that some +62 numbers/ Indonesians were incorrectly rejected”.
The backlash quickly escalated beyond social media. Immigration Director General Hendarsam Marantoko described the running event as a form of creating “a state within a state”, and the two founders were subsequently placed on Indonesia’s immigration blacklist.
Entourage has since stated that it was “extremely sorry for the people that have been offended and hurt”. Yet in the group’s private WhatsApp community, organisers reportedly referred to the controversy surrounding the platform’s discriminatory admissions process as a mere “commotion”. Colonialism no longer needs a flag to stake its claim; sometimes it just needs an approval form.
Entourage Bali organisers describe backlash as a “commotion” while members ask, “What happened?” (Source: News.com.au)
THE CARVE-UP
Do curious minds ever stop to ask why this viral advertising billboard in Uluwatu is written in English rather than Bahasa Indonesia? Shared millions of times across Instagram and TikTok, it has become akin to a pilgrimage site.
Source: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DWLx8yTCY85/?igsh=MWczemhrMXlqc2ZxaQ==
Propertia Real Estate, owned by Danish real-estate agent Peter Rabjerg Rasmussen, described building it “with the intention to bring a complete and efficient service with a European feel and quality…. in Bali”. Although that phrasing has since been removed on the company’s website, the colonial aspiration remains embedded in the marketing.
The millions engaging with this content do so largely without thinking – aestheticising a roadside billboard whilst ignoring the irony of Western advertising towering over Southeast Asian streets. The most insidious part isn’t that it sells property to foreigners, rather it sells the idea that one has already experienced a bad day in Bali.
Bali, hit by its worst flood in a decade, September 2025. Source: Tempo English
Schemes like this has made cultural sanitisation marketable, and it is regrettably far easier to call out than to dismantle. In 2019, tourism accounted for 61% of Bali’s GDP. Approximately 1.2 million Balinese work directly in tourism, with more than half of the island’s 4.2 million locals having some connection to the industry. In such a state, the economy cannot afford a boycott.
“There is something particularly grating about Bali being seen as a cheap economy to exploit, dressed up as a lifestyle choice,” Indonesian-born international student Joanna* says. “However, tourism is too embedded in the economy to simply reject. People’s livelihoods are dependent on tourists, and gentrification feels close to inevitable,” she adds.
Existing between two cultures means never being able to consume these videos the way everyone else seems to. I was born in Australia, while my parents were born in Indonesia. Every viral video asks me to admire a version of Bali that feels increasingly detached from the place my family knows. Watching one narrative overwrite the other, twenty seconds at a time, has made me feel far more bitter and helpless than I would like to admit.
“Honestly, when I picture Bali, I think of influencers, beach clubs and cheap luxury. I know that sounds bad, but I didn’t even know Bali was in Indonesia until recently,” says Juliana*, a twenty-year-old Australian who has never travelled overseas.
What gets lost in today’s addictive, algorithmic cycle is everything that cannot be captured in a flashy reel. The unknown history you stay ignorant to, the greeting you didn’t learn, the warung you quickly walk past due to its native-looking exterior or lack of social media ‘recs’ on it. The moment of genuine disorientation that would have told you something true about where you were. My message is simple: you would not review a new film from the one movie promo poster you have seen of it on the side of a parked bus – so why create illusionary content about someone’s home that you have never fully visited?
*Gamamari would like to note real names have been penned out for anonymity