After a 40-year struggle, indigenous guardians of Indonesian forest gain rights over their land
The Dayak Iban community of Sungai Utik has long fought to protect the forest and their place in it. After nearly half a century, they are now owners of over 10,000 hectares of customary land.
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On the morning of November 7th, 2019, Apai Janggut put on his red kelambi, a traditional Iban handwoven vest, in one of the 28 rooms in the Sungai Utik Long House. In front of him were several plates of pop rice topped with a single egg—one for every room—lined up in rows on colourful pieces of cloth.
A man of 80-something years, Apai looked incredibly calm. Nothing about him, other than his long white beard, revealed his stature or the history he had forged the last forty years living in the remote forests of Kapuas Hulu in West Kalimantan.
In his years as customary chief of the long house, a role he inherited from his father, he and his tribe had defended the rainforest they depended on from being bought over or destroyed by industry and illegal loggers since the 1980s.
Till today, the forest carries no sounds of whirring chainsaws, nor a trace of the large palm oil or rubber plantations that have subsumed the surrounding villages.
In the rest of the 214-metre long house, the air was abuzz with excitement.
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The rice-filled plates are part of a ceremonial offering called Pedara, which the Dayak Iban believe symbolises sustenance and helps ward off bad spirits. Image: Tim Daubach
The rice-filled plates are part of a ceremonial offering called Pedara, which the Dayak Iban believe symbolises sustenance and helps ward off bad spirits. Image: Tim Daubach
Helena Maria from room 25 was busy preparing breakfast and getting her daughters ready in their traditional dress. The gamelan gong, a musical instrument only played on special occasions, would be brought out that day. She would be the one behind the mallet, playing the melodies accompanying the welcome dance her daughters were performing in.
Sungai Utik was expecting a delegation of local government officials, two months after the tribe was internationally recognised at the United Nations for their longstanding stewardship of the environment.
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Children from the Sungai Utik community welcome guests in a traditional Iban dance. Image: Tim Daubach
Children from the Sungai Utik community welcome guests in a traditional Iban dance. Image: Tim Daubach
Now, after a forty-year campaign to obtain their land rights, the Indonesian government was giving the Dayak Iban community of Sungai Utik legal recognition and ownership of over 10,000 hectares of land, including 7,500 hectares of rainforest.
For the first time in the Kapuas Hulu region, vice regent Antonius L Ain Pamero handed over a land title to a masyarakat hukum adat, or customary community. In Indonesia, customary communities refer to indigenous people who have inhabited a specific geographical area from generation to generation.
For the community in Sungai Utik, the tribe has been there for more than 130 years.
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Apai Janggut receives a letter officially recognising the Dayak Iban's legal land rights of over 10,000 hectares of land. Image: Tim Daubach
Apai Janggut receives a letter officially recognising the Dayak Iban's legal land rights of over 10,000 hectares of land. Image: Tim Daubach
For us, the forest is like our father, the earth our mother and the river our blood. I’ve been fighting for this legal recognition for 20 years.
“Our struggle has gone on for a very long time, and today we have finally been acknowledged by the government. The customary land is one that we love, have taken care of and are committed to protecting,” said Raymundos Remang, head of Batu Lintang village and the government-appointed chief of the community.
Sitting beside Raymundos during the ceremony, Apai had tears in his eyes.
“For us, the forest is like our father, the earth our mother and the river our blood,” he said. “I’ve been fighting for this legal recognition for 20 years so we are very happy. This journey was not easy. But if we continue to protect our land and the forest, what we own will never escape us.”
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Sungai Utik is located in Kapuas Hulu Regency in the West Kalimantan province of Indonesia. Map: Wikimedia Commons
Sungai Utik is located in Kapuas Hulu Regency in the West Kalimantan province of Indonesia. Map: Wikimedia Commons
Since Indonesia's constitutional court ruled in 2013 that customary forests, previously seized by the state, must be placed back into the hands of indigenous communities, just over fifty indigenous groups have gained their rights to forests, spanning a total of about 25,000 hectares.
That’s a fraction of the 7.7 million hectares of land, home to 704 indigenous communities, that The Alliance of Indigenous People’s (AMAN) estimates must be recognised as ancestral forests.
Indonesia’s rainforests, the third most expansive in the world, cover an area of 98 million hectares.
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The wakil bupati, or vice regent of Kapuas Hulu arrives in Sungai Utik to hand over the legal land rights to the Dayak Iban. This is the first time a customary community in the district has been officially recognised by the government. Image: Tim Daubach
The wakil bupati, or vice regent of Kapuas Hulu arrives in Sungai Utik to hand over the legal land rights to the Dayak Iban. This is the first time a customary community in the district has been officially recognised by the government. Image: Tim Daubach
Although research shows that deforestation rates are significantly lower in areas occupied by indigenous communities, governments often fail to recognise their legal land rights, hence undermining their ability to manage and protect their lands.
In Sungai Utik, members of the community get a sense that legal recognition came on the heels of the United Nations award when the government realised more attention was being paid to the role of indigenous people in combating climate change.
In the Special Report on Climate Change and Land, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) stated that indigenous and community land rights are critical to safeguarding the world's remaining forests and keeping carbon in the ground.
“The government must have felt ashamed when we got recognition from around the world. Now we know the customary forest belongs to us and we can manage it by ourselves,” said 28-year-old Perdanius Muling. “It’s a form of assurance against companies and others that want to encroach on our land.”
The effort to achieve legal recognition of customary forests involves long bureaucratic processes, said Linda Yuliani, a researcher at the Center for International Forestry Research (CIFOR). The customary community—masyarakat adat—has to meet all criteria of a customary law community—masyarakat hukum adat—as stipulated by law, before going through verification, validation and confirmation of those criteria including their territory, she said.
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Forests are natural carbon sinks. Studies have found that at least 293,061 million metric tons of carbon is stored in the forest lands inhabited by indigenous communities. Image: Tim Daubach
Forests are natural carbon sinks. Studies have found that at least 293,061 million metric tons of carbon is stored in the forest lands inhabited by indigenous communities. Image: Tim Daubach
According to a study by Rights and Resources International, at least 293,061 million metric tons of carbon is stored in the collective forest lands that are home to indigenous communities.
This vast carbon store is equivalent to 33 times the global energy emissions in 2017, which shows the essential role that indigenous people play in keeping carbon locked in the areas they protect—a natural climate solution.
Indonesia has made ambitious commitments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions from deforestation—the biggest driver of emissions in the country. However, it remains one of the most deforested countries in the world, and has the highest rate of deforestation in Asia. In 2018, it lost close to 340 000 hectares of tropical primary rainforest, making it the one of the top deforested countries after Brazil and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
“The forest in Sungai Utik is in good condition because they protect it. They rely on local wisdom to manage the forest and it’s proven that after 40 years the forest has remained the same,” said Yani Saloh, fund manager at Wetlands International Indonesia, who has worked with the community for five years.
The community in Sungai Utik manages the forest in line with traditional knowledge and laws, such as declaring certain segments of forest as sacred and restricting the use of natural resources in other areas.
According to Saloh, legal rights are also important because they will allow the tribe to participate in programmes such as the Payment for Ecosystem Services scheme that rewards communities who sustainably manage and preserve the environment.
“In the past, it was difficult to get them the recognition because there was no law or regulation for it. Even when there are new laws, change doesn’t happen overnight,” said Ambrosius Sadau, head of the public housing and resettlement in Kapuas Hulu.
Along with Saloh, Sadau had worked tirelessly alongside local non-governmental organisations to get the tribe’s legal claims recognised. After a national law on customary communities was introduced in 2014, he helped get it implemented in the local law, recommending to the bupati that the land fall under community ownership instead of being sold to the private sector.
“Indigenous communities are people that for years have managed the forest in their own ways, following their own customs that protect the forest. By giving them this legal recognition, we are protecting the forest they live in,” he said.
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The tribe now owns 10,000 hectares of customary land, which is managed sustainably. Areas in green are untouched and protected rainforest while the rest are divided into sacred land, previous settlements and farmland. Source: Yani Saloh
The tribe now owns 10,000 hectares of customary land, which is managed sustainably. Areas in green are untouched and protected rainforest while the rest are divided into sacred land, previous settlements and farmland. Source: Yani Saloh
Tribal resistance
In relentless pursuit of development, Indonesia has exploited its forests for decades, handing over concessions to powerful companies at the expense of indigenous communities.
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In 1983, the river running past the Dayak Iban tribe’s longhouse on which the community depends for washing, bathing and drinking water suddenly turned grey.
To investigate the source of pollution, the tribe, armed with spears, machetes and blowpipes with poisonous tips, travelled upstream to find a local construction company laying waste to its ancestral forest, using heavy machinery that had rendered their precious water undrinkable.
A government concession had permitted the firm to seize the area and fell the community’s trees, but the tribe resisted. After negotiations failed, they threatened the company with war, and eventually managed to drive the perpetrators out.
That was the first time the tribe found its forest, livelihoods and traditions at risk of being eroded by powerful corporate interests. It would spend the next 40 years fighting against companies looking to encroach onto its lands.
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The inside of Sungai Utik Long House. Image: Tim Daubach
The inside of Sungai Utik Long House. Image: Tim Daubach
For many indigenous groups scattered across the Indonesian archipelago, history has been riddled with environmental and social abuse.
When the Republic of Indonesia emerged from the tumultuous struggle for independence in 1945, customary communities living in the country’s most remote corners, many previously unperturbed by outsiders, found themselves faced with new realities as the nation’s economy rose, changing the world around them.
In 1967, Suharto, Indonesia’s authoritarian president at the time, set out to transform the country’s forestry law, empowering the government to claim control over all forest land that was not privately owned. Customary forests that indigenous groups had long called their home officially became state property.
In violation of indigenous communities’ constitutional right to their territories, this enabled the government to hand over vast land areas to private companies as concessions for mining, logging and oil palm and paper plantations.
A new forestry law passed in 1999 did nothing to improve the plight of indigenous peoples as it granted the government ownership of 70 per cent of Indonesian soil, allowing the state to continue giving licenses to companies on land occupied by customary communities, often without their free and informed consent or compensation.
Indonesia’s highly centralised democracy has spurred such large-scale land transfers, with district chiefs—bupatis—holding considerable control over licensing for plantations. This has often been exploited to accumulate revenue and political power by selling permits to companies.
The tables only began to turn after Suharto’s resignation in 1998, ushering in an era of democratisation that saw the emergence of civil society groups, and the possibility for indigenous peoples to voice their concerns.
More than a decade of advocating for indigenous rights later, a landmark constitutional court ruling in 2013 forced the government to relinquish control over state forests that fall within indigenous territory.
In Indonesia, corporate land-grabs and the state’s relentless push for economic development have transformed many ancestral forests into battlegrounds as local villagers rising in opposition against those wreaking havoc on their land and livelihoods were met with military force, and often driven from their territory at the point of a gun.
Over the years, the number of land dispute cases reported only kept growing, and many of these conflicts between customary communities and firms clearing forests for pulp and paper or palm oil remain unresolved even today.
Patrick Anderson, policy advisor at Forest Peoples Programme, said: “In the Suharto era, a company would get a license from the government enabling them to seize indigenous land. If the community complained, the firm would call in the military or the police. A few people would be chucked in jail, some others might get killed, and the community would shut up.”
“There are still conflicts everywhere, many of them latent, but communities occasionally protest about the loss of land. And people still get killed even today, typically by security hired by the companies, but sometimes with the police involved,” he continued.
The violation of personal rights is a fate faced by indigenous groups around the world, shared Anderson. “Their history and use of land and resources pre-dates the nations they now find themselves in. And those traditions, while understood and practiced, are oral traditions. They are not recorded, and so they are not recognised by governments because no bits of paper have been issued yet to map out those areas.”
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Apai crosses a river deep within the tribe's ancestral forest. Image: Tim Daubach
Apai crosses a river deep within the tribe's ancestral forest. Image: Tim Daubach
In the run-up to the 2014 elections, Joko Widodo, Indonesia’s current president, pledged to enshrine indigenous rights in law and to establish an independent task force that would help resolve long-standing land disputes on indigenous territory and protect indigenous rights activists.
But with the administration deeply divided and the environment and forestry ministry loathed to see its power compromised by customary land claims, progress on the taskforce and the passage of the highly anticipated law—a follow-up on the 2013 constitutional court verdict—has stalled.
Lobbying pressure from palm oil and pulp and paper firms in particular, for whom the status quo of dealing with local authorities over land claims is preferable to having to negotiate with indigenous communities, has slowed progress, according to Anderson.
The commitments Widodo made were ambitious, but the forces that don’t want this reform are much stronger.
“These are extremely strong and powerful forces that have dozens of ways to influence government decision making. The commitments Widodo made were ambitious, but the forces that don’t want this reform are much stronger,” he said.
Without the bill, which would help create verification systems for defining customary groups, map out indigenous territory and establish a procedure for settling land disputes, local governments willing to recognise indigenous lands continue to face bureaucratic hurdles, and indigenous groups remain at a disadvantage when speaking up against powerful companies.
Consequently, despite the constitutional court verdict in 2013 paving the way for indigenous groups to be granted control over their lands, the government has dragged its heels on its implementation. Claims to traditional land rights often have a difficult time being recognised, especially where influential private or public actors are involved.
As Joko Widodo prepared for his second term as president this year, indigenous groups found themselves perpetrated with new wrongs as the government announced plans for a bill that critics said could have been used to imprison indigenous citizens for defending their lands against intrusion by developers.
The controversial bill, which sparked large mass protests that led the government to postpone deliberations, would have also set a two-year deadline by which communities must register their lands with the government, or else watch them pass into state control. Given the time it takes for customary groups to receive recognition, the bill would have likely caused many tribes to lose their forests.
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Leo Agung Haripan, 60, a farmer and head of family in room 21, on his way to his family's field which spans no more than one hectare. Each family in this indigenous group gets around an equal amount of land for farming, depending on the family's size. Image: Tim Daubach
Leo Agung Haripan, 60, a farmer and head of family in room 21, on his way to his family's field which spans no more than one hectare. Each family in this indigenous group gets around an equal amount of land for farming, depending on the family's size. Image: Tim Daubach
That Widodo has fallen short on his commitments has left many indigenous groups across Indonesia bitterly disappointed. They view the government’s unfulfilled pledges as a continued denial and violation of indigenous rights.
Marolop Manalu, officer for indigenous education at AMAN said: “In the presidential election in 2014, we supported Widodo when he expressed commitment to the rights of indigenous communities. He promised a special task force but until this time, nothing has happened. We have decided not to endorse him anymore because he does not fulfill his promises.”
A life in balance
In Iban philosophy, nature is inseparable from culture. Their deep relationship with nature means the tribe never takes more than what they need from it.
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A future in the forest
What lies ahead for the Dayak Iban of Sungai Utik?
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In August, president Widodo announced that the capital of Indonesia would be moved to East Kalimantan from Jakarta, which is sinking 20 centimetres every year due to rising sea levels and the excessive extraction of groundwater.
Environmental groups criticised the government’s decision for the lack of consultation with its citizens and the threat it poses to the dense rainforests of Borneo, which is one of the largest tracks of native tropical forests in the world.
Promensius Manao, 33, was worried about what the shift would mean for the community and their newly claimed land.
“If the capital is moved to East Kalimantan, it is much closer to where we are. Problems associated with development will arise and the government might just allow their interests to intrude on our land again,” he said. “We can hold on to our legal certificate now but this does not guarantee our survival in the future.”
Which is why the community’s efforts do not end with the achievement of their land title. Apai, Remang and others in charge of managing the affairs of the long house were seen working into the night days after the government official visited the tribe to give them legal recognition.
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The committee in charge of managing the community's affairs gather in the common area at night to discuss the next steps forward after they earned their land title two days earlier. Image: Tim Daubach
The committee in charge of managing the community's affairs gather in the common area at night to discuss the next steps forward after they earned their land title two days earlier. Image: Tim Daubach
Yani believes Sungai Utik's Dayak Iban community has managed to resist foreign encroachment for so long because of their institutional strength and united leadership.
“What’s made them strong all this while is they are not money-minded at all. They are more focused on keeping their dignity and identity,” she said.
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Illegal loggers from Malaysia approached Apai in the early 2000s, offering to buy the community's forests. Apai rejected, saying their lands are not for sale. Image: Tim Daubach
Illegal loggers from Malaysia approached Apai in the early 2000s, offering to buy the community's forests. Apai rejected, saying their lands are not for sale. Image: Tim Daubach
"Indigenous or customary communities who protect their forest usually have good customary leaders who have long-term vision and do not only think about themselves. The communities with leaders who have limited knowledge about the consequences of giving up their land for large-scale development projects end up giving those lands up," echoed Yuliani.
However, Saloh added that the community in Sungai Utik will have to enhance their own capacity and effectively manage their collective funds if the community moves forward with plans to open the long house up to ecotourism or register for carbon trading schemes.
“This community has a small carbon footprint, and should be compensated for protecting the rainforest," she said. "It won't be easy. If they go ahead with enrolling in carbon trading, they will have to further manage the forest, calculate the value of the trees and decide where the money goes."
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The Iban only take the amount they need to consume from the forest, which limits exploitation of the environment. Here, a man is plucking cassava leaves, which is typically pounded to make a common vegetable dish. Image: Tim Daubach
The Iban only take the amount they need to consume from the forest, which limits exploitation of the environment. Here, a man is plucking cassava leaves, which is typically pounded to make a common vegetable dish. Image: Tim Daubach
According to the International Ecotourism Society, ecotourism can help local communities prosper financially while fostering intercultural exchange, without relying on natural resource extraction and exploitation of the environment.
For indigenous communities who live in remote areas or have long been marginalised by the government, supporting themselves financially allows them to also sustainably manage the forest.
“We need development to benefit people economically but that development has to be based on our culture and customs. We reject development that destroys the forest,” said Remang.
“When others arrived offering us money for our land, we rejected it. It’s not that we do not need money. We do. But money runs out eventually. Who will support our children and future generations then? If we protect it, the forest will be there for us forever,” said Kristiana Banang, 43.
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(Left) Promensius Manao, 33: "We can hold on to our legal certificate now but this does not guarantee our survival in the future." (Right) Kristiana Banang, 43: "If we protect it, the forest will be there for us forever."
(Left) Promensius Manao, 33: "We can hold on to our legal certificate now but this does not guarantee our survival in the future." (Right) Kristiana Banang, 43: "If we protect it, the forest will be there for us forever."
Studies show that ecotourism can benefit indigenous communities when they have control over their land and the developments that come from opening their home up to tourism. The peoples’ autonomy and decision-making over their own affairs is key to ensuring the survival of a tribe or local community.
A few metres away from the long house, the foundations of a cultural house were already in place. Initiated and built by the community from scratch, the wooden house will be divided into several rooms that feature each aspect of Iban culture, such as crafts, customary dress and traditional tools.
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The sign reads: The location of the Cultural House of the Dayak Iban of Sungai Utik. The community is building a cultural house to enhance their efforts at ecotourism and further preserve aspects of their culture and heritage. Image: Tim Daubach
The sign reads: The location of the Cultural House of the Dayak Iban of Sungai Utik. The community is building a cultural house to enhance their efforts at ecotourism and further preserve aspects of their culture and heritage. Image: Tim Daubach
The community hopes that the culture house will serve to engage tourists while helping to preserve the tribe's culture and traditions.
In Apai's view, what matters most is that the local wisdom that has sustained the tribe for over a century will be inherited by the children in the community, who will pass down the knowledge just like his ancestors did.
“My hope is that we continue to teach our kids about nature, bring them into the jungle after school and share knowledge of our traditions. Those who destroy nature did not have such an education. What’s the point of money if you lose your identity?”
Eco-Business has released a video on the Dayak Iban tribe and its 40-year fight. Watch it here.
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How can Indonesia strike a balance between development and forest conservation? Write to us at news@eco-business.com
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