Historical Echo: When the World’s Biggest City Becomes Too Big to Sustain
![muted documentary photography, diplomatic setting, formal atmosphere, institutional gravitas, desaturated color palette, press photography style, 35mm film grain, natural lighting, professional photojournalism, A massive, unrolled parchment treaty resting on a stone plinth, its edges frayed and ink slightly blurred by humidity, embossed with the faded gold seal of a city crest cracked down the center, lit by low-angle side light that casts long shadows from raised lettering, the air still and dusty, faint outlines of forgotten signatures fading into the page like promises broken by time. [Nano Banana]](https://081x4rbriqin1aej.public.blob.vercel-storage.com/viral-images/544130a9-457e-439b-8e16-21a834c3feb6_viral_0_square.png "muted documentary photography, diplomatic setting, formal atmosphere, institutional gravitas, desaturated color palette, press photography style, 35mm film grain, natural lighting, professional photojournalism, A massive, unrolled parchment treaty resting on a stone plinth, its edges frayed and ink slightly blurred by humidity, embossed with the faded gold seal of a city crest cracked down the center, lit by low-angle side light that casts long shadows from raised lettering, the air still and dusty, faint outlines of forgotten signatures fading into the page like promises broken by time. [Nano Banana]")
Jakarta’s ascension to the world’s largest city by population coincides with the deliberate withdrawal of its national functions—a pattern seen in 19th-century London and postwar Tokyo, where peak density preceded institutional decentralization. Competitiveness metrics now reflect a city transitioning from magnet to margin.
What if the world’s biggest city is not a triumph—but a warning written in concrete, traffic, and sinking land? Jakarta’s ascent to the top of the population rankings in 2025[^1] is less a badge of honor and more a signal flare from history’s urban playbook. Consider London in 1851: it was the largest city on Earth, a beacon of the Industrial Age, yet also a place of cholera outbreaks, overcrowded slums, and coal-choked skies[^2]. It took decades of reform—sewers, zoning, public transport—before it became livable again. Tokyo, too, surged after WWII, becoming the world’s most populous city by the 1960s, only to face gridlock, pollution, and eventually, a decentralization of functions to satellite cities like Yokohama and Chiba[^3]. Jakarta now stands at the same crossroads: a city that pulled millions into its orbit with the promise of modernity, only to reveal that the cost of entry may be too high for long-term survival. The irony is sharp—Jakarta’s new title arrives just as Indonesia begins abandoning it, building Nusantara as a “green capital” on Borneo[^4]. This is not the first time a nation has fled its own creation. Ancient Rome, once the center of an empire, became unsustainable under its own weight; Constantinople rose as its successor. Jakarta’s story is not unique—it is inevitable. And the lesson is clear: when a city becomes too big to fail, it often becomes too big to live in.
[^1]: United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, World Urbanization Prospects 2025 Revision.
[^2]: Johnson, S. (2006). *The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic—and How It Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World*. Riverhead Books.
[^3]: Sorensen, A. (2004). *The Making of Urban Japan: Cities and Planning from Edo to the Twenty-First Century*. Routledge.
[^4]: Government of Indonesia, Ministry of National Development Planning, Nusantara Capital City Authority, 2024 Progress Report.
—Catherine Ng Wei-Lin
Published February 21, 2026