Growing up as children in Indonesia, we were taught that our country is a rich nation. Our school textbooks and teachers filled our heads with pride, telling us about gold, coal, and more. We grew up believing it that all of that was a gift from God. But the real question is: To whom is this really a blessing?
Truth is that this land has never been truly ours. It has been sold over and over again to those who don’t even live here, to those who see natural resources as numbers on a profit report, to those who preach economic growth while their own people are suffering. And in the end, these lands are left with nothing but scars and wounds.
In the past, our land was seized by a colonial law called Domein Verklaring, which states that everything we cannot prove as ours will belong to “them”.1 However, while colonial ruling passed, this rule did not. It just changed its name. Under the pretext of being “controlled by the state for the prosperity of the people,” our lands are continually taken, transferred and sold through business agreements and contracts. We call it “corporate colonialism”. Deals are made behind closed doors, in meetings where the people who actually own the land are never involved. What we used to call colonialism, is now call “investment”. Companies come, stake their claim, and seize what isn’t theirs. The police, who are supposed to protect the people, stand with the elites. Those who defend their own land are treated as criminals, as the economic and political interests of the state favor companies over local communities. Any protest against land grabbing, is met with violence. Bullets fly, blood is shed, and cries of resistance are met with violence. Meanwhile, companies and the state sit side by side, benefiting from what they grab.
Our ocean sand is now dredged and sold.2 What was once boundless sea is now divided, owned, and traded. Fishermen who have lived off these waters for generations are pushed out. What is left is destruction. In Papua, mineral resources are extracted and gold is dredged. Yet education, electricity, and healthcare are still luxury goods in this so-called rich land. In Kalimantan, Indigenous territories are seized because land certificates are seen as more legitimate than the territorial boundaries passed down through generations. This is called “National Strategic Projects”. They call it “food estate”, but all that happens is eviction, loss, and destruction.3
However, they do not operate alone. Behind it all, there are institutions that provide financial support to companies that are involved in land grabbing. With the investments they provide, such companies are then able to expand their operations, displace communities, and make huge profits.4 While the banks don’t fire the bullets or mobilize the authorities, they play a role in each of these activities.
In addition, academic institutions in Indonesia that are meant to “illuminate” minds are now digging up the earth for profit.5 And even religious institutions, once the voice of morality, are also holding the right to exploit now.6 They have bowed down to profit and capital. They sell coals and minerals.
Until It Became Personal
It’s easy to talk about climate injustice from a distance. Until three weeks ago, it wasn’t just another headline for me. It became my reality. The house of my family was flooded.7 Water seeped into everything, ruining furniture, soaking clothes, bed, vehicles; everything. My parents stayed awake all night, exhausted but unable to sleep. Even sitting was impossible because there was no dry place left.
Yet, I realized one thing: I was still privileged. Our house wasn’t washed away. We could still clean the mud. But then, I couldn’t stop wondering, what about those who weren’t as lucky this time as we? What about those who lost not just their belongings, but their land, their rights, their future? What about those who had no choice but to wait, hoping the water will recede, without knowing when or if anyone even cared? What about the animals that also drowned in the floods?
We condemn colonialism in the preamble of our national constitution, yet we fail to see that we actually continue thinking in the same way, perceiving the land in terms of what we can take from it.
We are No Different
We have been so busy mining, drilling, and dredging that we have forgotten this land was never ours to exploit. We have severed our connection to the earth, treating it as nothing more than a provider for profit. And then, we are surprised: Why are the floods getting worse? Why do landslides strike without warning? Why do more planes crash due to bird strikes? As if we don’t already know the answers.
Yet here we are, watching people drown while saying, “Well, that’s life.” People even say that religion tells us to be patient, to endure, to believe that everything happens for a reason.
But if faith means anything, it is that we cannot be silent. Faith is not blind acceptance. Faith is action. In fact, there are many stories in the Bible about God standing with the oppressed. Jesus was not silent when the temple became a den of corruption. He started a disturbance by overturning the tables! Faith is rebellion. Faith is refusing to stand idly by as the land grows sicker. Faith means resisting to accept a broken system as something that cannot be changed. Faith means believing that things can be different and fighting to make them different.
Shame and guilt are not enough. We can regret the past, but that will not dry a sinking house. We can cry over a fallen tree, but that will not bring back the forests we have lost. Nature does not need us to protect it, nature has never been the problem. We are.
That night, when I heard my family had to endure the flood, I realized one thing: we always think disaster is something that happens to other people. Until one day, it knocks on our own door. And when it does, we realize that we pretend not knowing. Yet, we know. And we cannot stay silent and accept it.
Written by: Mikhael Tony Ardiyanto, Student-assistant of ACRPJ and PTR Student.
Endnotes