ASIA DEMOCRACY CHRONICLES: Nickel and Dammed

This story was produced and published by Asia Democracy Chronicles. Photo credit: Muhammad ECTOR Prasetyo, via Flickr, CC BY 2.0

he dense forest of Dodaga Village in East Halmahera, in Indonesia’s North Maluku province, means a lot to Sumean Gebe. In the forest, the O’Hongana Manyawa tribesman, his wife, and their two young children  hunt animals such as wild boar and deer, whose meat they use for their meals, as well as look for damar resin that they sell to earn additional income. 

Like those of several other indigenous peoples in Indonesia, the lives of the 42-year-old Sumean and the rest of his family are intertwined with the forest. “It feels comfortable living here,” he says in the midst of trees, vines, and wild shrubs. The largest island in North Maluku, Halmahera also boasts of rivers and lakes and surrounding waters that are abundant with fish and molluscs.

At least that’s how it used to be. Daniel Totabo counts himself lucky that he is still able to find sogili (eel) in the middle of a fast-flowing river near Dodaga. Farther out to the island’s coastal areas, many Halmahera locals who used to depend on Weda Bay for their livelihood have long given up and turned to other means to support themselves.

And in the last several years, rights advocates have been sounding the alarm that Halmahera’s indigenous inhabitants may also soon have little forest from which they can forage and hunt for food.

Halmahera is host to several nickel mining and processing operations. Digital maps reveal that there are at least four mining companies already operating within a 50- to100-km radius of the forests inhabited by the island’s indigenous peoples. Such ventures are likely to increase in number as global demand for electronic vehicles continues to rise and ramp up the need for nickel, one of the materials used for their batteries.

Indonesia is already fortifying its position as the world’s top producer of the metal. The country’s nickel reserves are estimated to be about 42.1% of the global total. But mining nickel in Indonesia means cutting down forests.

Geospatial analysis research conducted by Climate Rights International (CRI) and the AI ​​Climate Initiative at the University of California, Berkeley has revealed that nickel mining throughout Halmahera has already destroyed 5,331 hectares of tropical forest there. 

PT Weda Bay Nickel (WBN) alone has so far exploited 2,000 hectares out of its concession of 45,065 hectares. A major nickel-mining concern in Halmahera, WBN began operations in 2019, and plans to mine 6,000 hectares within a 25-year period.   

In total, mining permits throughout Halmahera now cover some 201,000 hectares, some 90% of which are actually in protected forest and production forest areas. Halmahera itself has a land area of about 1.78 million hectares.

Home and away

According to the U.K.-based rights organization Survival International, much of the forest razed for nickel mining in Halmahera used to be the foraging and hunting grounds of the O’Hongana Manyawa, who are believed to currently number around 3,500.

Of this figure, Survival International says, some 500 are “uncontacted,” or those who voluntarily shun contact with the outside world. The rights group says that having mining activities near the tribe of nomadic hunters and gatherers – one of the last of such peoples in Indonesia – puts the uncontacted especially at risk of exposure to diseases against which they have not developed immunity.

But even “exposed” O’Hongana Manyawa (which actually translates to “people of the forest”) say that the mining activities are bound to have an impact on them as well. Among them is Bawehe Bidos, who says that mining will make it more difficult for them to get food for their daily needs. As he puts it, “If heavy equipment has entered the forest, the animals will definitely choose to stay away.” 
 

The national government, however, has long tried to wean the O’Hongana Manyawa away from the forest. Since 1978, the government has been actively setting up several hamlets and villages where it has been relocating members of the tribe. 

In Dodaga, for example, there is an area that used to be a “cultural village” where O’Hongana Manyawa were resettled. But health, and educational, and economic facilities to support the community proved inadequate.

Moreover, the O’Hongana Manyama were too tied to the forest and their nomadic and hunting habits, and had difficulty adapting to their new environment. They eventually abandoned the village, which is now inhabited by immigrants to Halmahera.  

“The house was very hot during the day and very cold at night because it used a zinc roof,” Sumean says of the home they had in the resettlement village. “It is different from a leaf roof that can adjust to the season. We did get a house, but maybe they forgot that we also must find our own food every day.”

Sprawling operations

About six hours by car south of Dodaga is PT Indonesia Weda Industrial Park (IWIP), in Central Halmahera.

For much of the trip, there are still verdant sceneries to enjoy, but then the trees start disappearing as IWIP’s giant smoke stacks come into view. Located in Lelilef Village, the sprawling IWIP houses nickel processing and smeltering facilities, aside from coal-fired plants that keep the operations of IWIP’s tenants going.

Established in 2018, IWIP is a joint venture between the state-owned PT Aneka Tambang and Strand Minerals, where the Chinese stainless-steel company Tsingshan Holding Group now has a majority 57-percent share while the French mining firm Eramet holds the remaining 43 percent. The same three companies are partners in WBN. 

IWIP began operating in 2020. It became part of the National Priority Projects that same year under the Widodo administration, and has been touted to attract investments worth as much as US$15 billion. At present, IWIP has around 47,000 employees. 

The industrial park is divided into two parts that are separated by a provincial road. All nickel processing and mining activities are on the side of the road leading to a hilly area. Supporting facilities such as ports, power plants, offices, and airports are located in the coastal area. Not far from the complex are settlements where locals live, as well as IWIP workers. 

When the sun is shining, reddish brown dust swirls in just about every place that has nickel-related activities. Once it starts raining, the dirt roads turn into mud traps, and even those not in low-lying areas brace for potential flooding. 

Halmahera residents say that while they had suffered floods from time to time before the nickel projects began in their island, these have now become worse. 

According to the latest report from JATAM (Jaringan Advokasi Tambang/Mining Advocacy Network) floods with a height of more than a meter has occurred more than 12 times from August 2020 to June 2024. 

The major floods that occurred in the Weda Bay mining area in July and August this year even submerged seven villages (Lukolamo, Woe Jarana, Woe Kobe, Kulo Jaya, Lelilef, Sagea, and Trans Waleh) and completely cut off vehicle access to these. Some 1,670 people there were forced to spend days in refugee tents.

Among the July flood victims was Ahmad Kruwet, 62, a transmigrant from Tegal, in the main island of Java, who now lives in Central Weda’s Woe Jarana Village. He says that the flood that submerged his home last July was the worst yet since 2004. 

While climate change could be one factor, Ahmad tells ADC: “I think this was the effect of the forest upstream being cut down until it was completely gone.”

‘Net zero loss of diversity’?

Complaints from residents have not yielded much reaction from local and national officials, although the local government provides basic necessities during floods. But while its two partners in its nickel ventures in Halmahera have remained silent amid the locals’ complaints and concerns raised by rights activists, Eramet has been trying to address allegations of wrongdoing specifically by WBN.

It has posted its position on several issues on its website where, among other things, it says that WBN makes sure to avoid or limit any contact with O’Hongana Manyawa “for their safety.” It says that a viral video showing O’Hongana Manyawa at a PT Weda Bay exploration camp was a “voluntary visit” by the tribe, and that it only proved a “friendly relationship and mutual trust” between the tribe and WBN employees.

But it says that another video showing some O’Hongana Manyawa confronting a bulldozer operator on a riverbank “does not concern PT Weda Bay’s activities…and was not filmed on the concession’s perimeter.”

Eramet says as well that it has a target of “net zero loss of biodiversity.” There is “a nursery with 180,000 seedlings of local species…in place on the concession,” it says, “and two more are planned for construction in 2024 as close as possible to the new mining sites, to be able to rehabilitate the mined areas.”

One question that arises, though, is where O’Hongana Manyawa would go once the forests are gone, and the areas that had helped them live and thrive undergo “rehabilitation.” In late November, however, Indonesian media reported that the House of Representatives will be prioritizing the draft law on indigenous peoples next year.

Rights advocates hope that once it is passed, it will provide enough protection for the customary lands of indigenous peoples like the O’Hongana Manyawa.

In the meantime, Sumean can only watch as miners come closer to where he and his family have built their home.

“If it continues like this,” he says, “the forests in Halmahera will be destroyed. The trees will be cut down and the animals will be driven out and die because their homes have been completely cleared. Then where will we live?