On the outskirts of Jakarta, Indonesia, vibrant farming and fishing communities are grappling with imminent displacement, prompted by the ambitious plans for Pantai Indah Kapuk II (PIK2), a massive commercial and residential complex poised to reshape the northeast coast of the city’s metropolitan area. Local farmers and fishers have expressed their concerns to Mongabay Indonesia, detailing how developers have curtailed their access to the Java Sea while acquiring land without offering just compensation for the productive trees that once thrived there.
As Indonesia faces soaring demands from its rapidly urbanizing population, the country struggles with a daunting housing crisis affecting multiple cities across the archipelago. The national housing backlog now exceeds 12 million units, leading to mounting pressure on local residents, particularly those employed in traditional industries like fishing, whose livelihoods hang in the balance.
Joy, a local fisherman, sat on the shore, meticulously mending his fishing nets while women nearby shelled green mussels. “Later on, at 4, we’ll head out to sea,” Joy mentioned, revealing that his catches typically yield around 500,000 rupiah (approximately $32). However, he harbors deep concerns as dwindling fish stocks and encroaching development signal that his way of life may soon be threatened. Every passing year compels fishers along the northern coast of Java to venture further into the ocean in search of a sustainable catch.
Set against the backdrop of climate change, fishing communities like Joy’s are battling not only rising sea temperatures and acidification but also local obstructions in the form of a crude bamboo barricade that blocks their access to the sea. The barrier emerged shortly after developers initially restricted fishers’ movements, igniting resistance among local fishermen who attempted to dismantle the obstruction. However, their efforts were thwarted by another barrier put in place by developers, allegedly sanctioned by village authorities.
“You can’t see it at night and the boat can hit it,” Joy warned, highlighting safety issues that the barricade imposes, as it poses significant risks for navigating fishers, especially in turbulent waters.
The bamboo barrier represents a broader trend of transformation sweeping through Indonesia’s coastal cities, where large-scale developments such as PIK2 loom ominously. Spanning an estimated 6,000 hectares (14,800 acres)—more than half the size of Paris—this megaproject promises a host of commercial and residential offerings, including a “Green Belt” amidst high-end dining options and Dutch-inspired architectural designs.
Earlier this year, civil society groups expressed astonishment when the government designated PIK2 as a national priority project, a label that may insulate developers from legal challenges and streamline the often cumbersome land acquisition processes. Several prominent companies, including Indonesia’s largest bank, Bank Mandiri, have earmarked offices in the PIK2 project, slated to break ground this year with completion expected by 2060.
Joy knows that looming changes will likely lead to increased tensions as the government prioritizes development over the needs of local communities. “We’re at home on the sea; we wouldn’t know what to do on land,” he lamented, emphasizing the deep connection that fishing communities have with their maritime heritage, while expressing uncertainty about their future.
The ongoing displacement due to housing developments has exacerbated urban housing shortages, forcing economically vulnerable citizens, like Joy, to relinquish their homes, cultural identities, and traditional livelihoods to accommodate sprawling urbanization. “We common people can’t fight the big companies,” Joy said, voicing his concerns regarding potential repercussions for resisting development efforts.
A 2020 World Bank report accentuated the urgency surrounding Indonesia’s housing crisis, forecasting a need for 780,000 new households annually until 2045 while addressing an existing backlog of over 12 million homes. Poor housing conditions have been linked to a multitude of health issues and hinder educational outcomes, further entrenching poverty among affected populations.
Jakarta, sinking at a rate of up to 15 centimeters (6 inches) annually, faces unique challenges, raising concerns about future inundation as the government’s pro-development policies clash with the urgent need for sustainable solutions amidst the ongoing climate crisis. As the shoreline expands, fishing communities like those in Teluknaga, located just 20 kilometers (12 miles) west of Joy’s village, find themselves obstructed by yet another bamboo barrier restricting access to traditional fishing grounds.
The repercussions of PIK2’s development plans are palpable in the fishing community, where locals now face additional restrictions and security measures that stifle their livelihoods. Longtime fishermen like Joni from Kohod village lamented losses in income, noting that his daily earnings plummeted from around 200,000 rupiah ($13) to a meager 50,000 rupiah ($3) as operational costs have eaten away at any potential profit.
In Tanjung Burung, another village caught in PIK2’s expansion, residents like former rice farmer Rina struggle with unemployment as farmland disappears under rising development pressure. After dedicating nearly four decades to cultivating a rice field, Rina finds herself without a source of income, and her once-thriving agricultural landscape has now become a distant memory as the PIK2 project reshapes the area.
The challenges of standing against influential developers resonate strongly among local residents who recognize that opposing such powerful entities comes with serious consequences. Local representatives admit their lack of authority in dealing with a project classified as a national priority, further complicating the fate of the fishing communities displaced by this ambitious endeavor.
Fadli Afriadi, head of the ombudsman’s office for Banten province, attempted to assure residents of their rights, emphasizing that any allegations of unfair land acquisition would be thoroughly investigated. However, concerns linger as community members remain largely uninformed about their rights and how to formally report grievances related to the encroachment upon their livelihoods.
As construction accelerates, the developers remain unresponsive to inquiries, prompting local activists and community leaders to voice their dismay over the persistent erosion of local access to coastal regions. Parid Ridwanuddin from Walhi articulated the frustrations faced by coastal populations, stressing that ongoing developments represent a troubling trend of “ocean grabbing” that further alienates communities from their natural resources.
Reminders of the past remain evident in the landscape, where farming and fishing once flourished. The sun-drenched boats remain as a stark juxtaposition to construction machines tearing through rice fields, highlighting the ever-widening gap between development and community needs. Fresh from repairing his nets and reflecting on the encroaching changes, Joy remains uncertain about his family’s future.
“We depend on the sea,” he reiterated. “If we’re evicted, we’ll be lost. What will we do?”
In Jakarta’s port district, coal looms as a contentious reminder that for locals like Joy, stability and survival hang in the balance against the backdrop of relentless urban expansion.
**Interview with Joy, Local Fisherman from the Northeast Coast of Jakarta**
**Editor:** Thank you for joining us today, Joy. It must be tough facing the changes in your community due to the PIK2 development. Can you tell us more about how this project is affecting your daily life as a fisherman?
**Joy:** Thank you for having me. Yes, it is really challenging. I used to spend my days fishing with little worry about access to the sea, but now things have changed drastically. Developers have put up barriers that block our paths to the water, and we’re forced to travel further out for our catches, which isn’t sustainable for us. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll be able to continue this way of life.
**Editor:** That sounds really difficult. You mentioned that the barriers pose safety risks as well. Can you elaborate on that?
**Joy:** Yes, the bamboo barricades make it dangerous for us to navigate at night. You can’t see them, and many of us have had near misses. It feels like they are trying to push us out of our own space, restricting where we can go. When we tried to remove some of the barriers, we faced resistance from the authorities supporting the developers. It’s a frustrating situation.
**Editor:** The displacement of local communities due to urban development is not just happening in Jakarta but in many parts of the world. How do you see this affecting your community’s culture and identity?
**Joy:** Our connection to the sea is everything to us. For generations, we have relied on fishing—not just for income, but for food and as part of our identity. Losing access to the ocean means losing a part of ourselves. We feel helpless against these big companies pushing forward with projects that don’t consider our needs.
**Editor:** The housing crisis in Indonesia is alarming. What do you think should be done to address the issues facing communities like yours?
**Joy:** I think the government must listen to us— the fishermen and local residents. Our livelihoods should be considered in development plans. We need fair compensation and real protections for our rights to the sea. There should be balance, where development doesn’t come at the cost of our homes and heritage.
**Editor:** Thank you for sharing your insights, Joy. It’s crucial that the voices of communities like yours are heard in these discussions. What message would you like to send to those in power?
**Joy:** I want them to understand that we are not just statistics or obstacles in their plans; we are people with lives, histories, and dreams. Our contributions to society are real, and we deserve respect, support, and a seat at the table when decisions about our futures are made.
