Indonesia has no 'indigenous blood' but has the law: the naturalization challenge for Vietnamese football

In August 2026, Indonesia's Kompas newspaper ran an unusual report: FIFA had formally allowed goalkeeper Maarten Paes, born 2026, to switch from the Netherlands to Indonesia. Six months later, striker Ole Romeny took his naturalization oath in Jakarta. For Southeast Asian fans, these two names provoke surprise and even doubt. Paes had no real history with Indonesian football before joining the national team. Romeny was born, raised and developed in the Netherlands. They now hold Indonesian citizenship, they are in the national team, and neither carries indigenous blood. At 58, I thought I had seen everything, but I had not yet seen what I am about to analyze. Public opinion split at once. One side called it a historic boost. The other called it a legal loophole. But if you actually read the rules, there is no loophole. This sits at the intersection of Indonesian citizenship law and FIFA eligibility rules, a door designed long ago, not something left open by accident. Indonesia's Law No. 12/2026 contains a special provision: Article 20 allows the state to grant citizenship to foreigners 'in the interest of the state', after approval by the Indonesian House of Representatives. This is not a passport reserved for football. It has been used for scientists, artists and businesspeople. PSSI only had to prove that the two players were central to the nation's sports strategy. FIFA's side is even more specific. Under eligibility rules, a player with a biological grandparent born on the territory of the federation he wishes to represent has a 'substantial connection'. What FIFA requires is the birthplace of the grandparent, not the ethnicity of the player. Paes and Romeny each have a grandparent born in the territory formerly known as the Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia. Both meet the standard. No clause in Indonesian law or FIFA rules demands 'indigenous blood'. What matters here is the difference between 'legally compliant' and 'emotionally accepted'. In legal terms, both cases are clean. In emotional terms, they are hard to digest. That is why the media calls the story an 'exceptional case' or a 'loophole', even though it is not. Using the word 'loophole' is the press questioning legitimacy, not legality. For Indonesia, that distinction will shape public reaction in big matches. So where is the real 'loophole'? Not in the law, but in demographics. Indonesia is tapping a historical group called the 'blijvers' — Europeans who stayed in the Dutch East Indies for generations. Their descendants hold Dutch passports, are trained in one of Europe's best football systems, and still have a legal connection to Indonesia through their grandparents' birth records. PSSI does not spend a single euro in transfer fees. It needs a good legal team, political lobbying to pass the DPR, and patience to solve complicated cases. Paes is a perfect example of that complexity. He had played for the Netherlands youth teams even at 22, so under FIFA rules he needed permission for a 'change of association'. PSSI chased the case for a long time and only got the green light in August 2026. Romeny took a different route: he had never played for the senior Dutch national team, so his citizenship and switch process moved faster. What catches my attention is not the legal story. It is their positions on the pitch. A goalkeeper and a centre-forward. Not full-backs, not box-to-box midfielders. In every modern football data model, goalkeeper and centre-forward are the two highest-leverage positions. A goalkeeper cleans up defensive mistakes and gives the whole match a foundation. A striker turns half-chances into decisive goals. By reinforcing these two positions, Indonesia is not shopping around randomly; it is strengthening the spine of the national team. But the weakness of this strategy appears in the way it is framed. The press says Indonesia's strength 'has jumped'. I do not see a single number quoted: no xG, no improved FIFA ranking, no qualifying results. 'Strength has jumped' is a narrative of belief, not a conclusion from data. For an analyst, the absence of data is itself data. In the regional context, Indonesia is creating a model that Vietnamese football cannot easily copy. Vietnam has French colonial history and a Vietnamese diaspora in Europe, but it does not have a 'blijvers' pool connected to Dutch football. Quality overseas Vietnamese players in Europe are few, and they are not produced by a coordinated system like the Netherlands. This means Indonesia is using a structural advantage that Vietnam does not have, at least not at the same scale. Meanwhile, a new service industry is emerging: 'sports ancestry' brokers. They look for European-based players whose grandparents were born in Southeast Asia, build family dossiers, verify documents and work with federations. This is not a transfer, but it is a low-cost form of talent recruitment. Vietnam's football federation should monitor this closely, not to imitate, but to understand the opponent. If the story stopped here, it would already create fear. But look closer: the model has a mechanical limit. The 'blijvers' pool is not renewable. It is a closed historical population. Every year the number of players still eligible through grandparents born in Indonesia decreases. PSSI may approve two, three, five more players, but eventually there will be nobody left to tap. If Indonesia does not build youth academies in the meantime, they will return to the starting line — with a generation of local players squeezed out and under-exposed. The second risk lies in the media itself. The phrase 'legal loophole' is legally inaccurate, but it can harden negative public opinion. Indonesian fans are passionate and proud of their identity. If the team wins, Paes and Romeny are heroes. If the team loses a crucial match, the 'no indigenous blood' label will be used against them. That creates a reputational risk that is very hard to control. There is also the dressing-room issue. A group of players born in the Netherlands, speaking Dutch to each other, arriving for a few weeks each year — how long does it take to understand local teammates? Southeast Asian football is played more with emotion than with mechanics. Without a coach who can pull everyone together, individual advantage can become a collective burden. The third risk is FIFA itself. When one country finds a legal pathway, others copy it. The Philippines has naturalized players, Malaysia is watching. If this spreads across Asia, FIFA will come under pressure to tighten the 'grandparent birthplace' condition. Indonesia, if it does not move fast, could become a victim of new rules. So what should Vietnamese football do? Not imitate aggressively. Not panic. Vietnam's advantage is something Indonesia cannot buy: cohesion and depth built over a long period. A team whose players have grown up together in the V-League, understanding each other by instinct, can compete with a squad whose players were imported overnight. What I want to stress is timing. This transfer window is just noise if you only look at fees. But PSSI's move is sending another signal: it does not care about the transfer market, it wants to optimize the law to obtain mature players at zero fee. That means Vietnam must ask bigger questions about national team squad strategy over the next five years. If I had to make a verifiable prediction, I would say this: within 12 to 24 months, one or two more Southeast Asian federations will announce naturalization plans modelled on Indonesia. Within 24 to 36 months, FIFA will begin reviewing the 'substantial connection' rule and partially close the door. Indonesia needs to finish recruiting before the rules change. As for Vietnam, instead of joining the naturalization race, it should use this moment to strengthen youth development, send players abroad, and build its own tactical identity. Because in the end, football has no miracles. Only calculated strategies, and ignored risks. At 58, I have seen many teams 'transform' through naturalization and then collapse when their youth academies were empty. Southeast Asian football is about to enter a turbulent period. When Indonesia runs out of historical material, what will be left? And when that question is answered, the regional rankings may look very different from today.