Indonesia’s push toward a cashless society is often framed as progress. Digital payments promise speed, efficiency, and transparency, aligning neatly with the country’s ambition to modernize its economy. QRIS logos are now everywhere — from malls to street vendors — signaling how deeply cashless transactions have entered daily life. Yet a recent viral incident involving a customer who was unable to pay with cash at a Roti’O outlet exposes a critical question we rarely pause to ask: progress for whom?
In the video that circulated widely on social media, an elderly woman was reportedly refused service because she could only pay with cash. The store accepted only QRIS payments. What followed was public outrage, apologies from the company, and reminders from Bank Indonesia that cash remains a legal and valid means of payment. The controversy did not merely highlight a misunderstanding of regulations. It revealed a deeper problem in how digital transformation is sometimes pursued without considering inclusivity.
There is no denying that cashless systems offer tangible benefits. For businesses, digital payments reduce the risk of theft, simplify accounting, and speed up transactions. For consumers, they offer convenience, promotional incentives, and seamless integration with everyday apps. During the pandemic, cashless transactions also played a role in minimizing physical contact. In many urban settings, paying digitally now feels natural, even expected.
However, efficiency should not come at the cost of accessibility. When businesses enforce cashless-only policies, they implicitly assume that all customers possess smartphones, stable internet access, bank accounts, and sufficient digital literacy. This assumption overlooks significant segments of society — particularly the elderly, low-income groups, and people living in areas with limited connectivity. For them, cash is not a preference; it is a necessity.
From a legal standpoint, the issue is even clearer. Indonesian law recognizes rupiah in physical form as a legitimate payment instrument that cannot be refused without valid reasons. While the government actively promotes digital payments, it has never abolished cash. Making QRIS the sole option contradicts not only the spirit of inclusion but also the principle of consumer rights. Businesses may innovate, but they are not entitled to exclude.
Beyond legality, the ethical dimension of this issue deserves attention. A society’s progress is measured not only by how advanced its technology is, but by how well it accommodates its most vulnerable members. When an elderly customer is denied service for lacking a digital payment app, the problem is not her inability to adapt. It is the system’s failure to meet her halfway. Digital transformation should empower people, not silently filter out those who cannot keep up.
The Roti’O incident also exposes a broader cultural tendency to equate modernization with uniformity. In practice, inclusivity often requires flexibility. Accepting both cash and digital payments does not slow progress; it strengthens it. A truly modern system is one that recognizes diversity in users’ capacities and circumstances.
Supporters of cashless-only policies often argue that resistance to digital payments reflects unwillingness to change. This argument oversimplifies reality. Adaptation is not instantaneous, and it is rarely equal. Expecting every citizen to move at the same technological pace ignores social and generational differences. Progress imposed without empathy risks becoming coercive rather than transformative.
None of this means Indonesia should retreat from digital innovation. On the contrary, the country’s digital payment ecosystem is one of its most promising achievements. But innovation must be guided by responsibility. Businesses can promote QRIS aggressively through incentives while still keeping cash as an option. Staff can be trained to assist customers unfamiliar with digital systems instead of turning them away. These small adjustments make a significant difference.
The debate sparked by this case should not end with apologies or temporary policy changes. It should prompt a broader reflection on how digital policies are implemented at the ground level. Cashless convenience is valuable, but it must remain a choice, not an obligation. When convenience becomes exclusion, it no longer represents progress.
In the end, the question is simple: Do we want a future that is technologically advanced, or one that is technologically advanced and socially inclusive? True progress lies in choosing the latter — where innovation walks hand in hand with empathy, and where no one is denied access simply because they still carry cash.
written by Eva Alya Zahra
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