Kevin Lieus Felix is a Senior Program Associate at New Energy Nexus Indonesia. He holds a Master’s in Engineering from the University of Gunadarma, where he was awarded a scholarship. At NEX Indonesia, he has advised over a dozen clean energy and climate startups. Kevin is also an avid sports enthusiast and enjoys participating in public speaking engagements.
I had often heard the tales of the Bajo tribes, who have lived for centuries in harmony with the marine ecosystem. Now, as the Senior Program Associate for the Dilau Initiative, a coastal decarbonization project, I get the chance to know the community more, specifically the Bajo descent who live in Bungin Island, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia. I found myself immersed in their world, where the sea is not just a livelihood but a way of life.
Where they are born, live, and die above the sea
Arriving at Bungin Island felt like stepping into another world—a place where the lines between land and sea blur, and the rhythms of life are dictated by the tides. The Bajo people, who consider the sea their eternal companion, have mastered the art of living in harmony with nature. This ancient bond is what drew us to Bungin, as we sought to understand how their wisdom could guide to the sustainable way of fishing and marine ecosystem.
Embracing “Kekitaan” in Indonesia’s sustainable development
As we rolled out the Dilau Initiative, a question kept surfacing in my mind: Does the involvement of local communities and the value of “kekitaan”—the sense of collective identity—hinder or help our development efforts?
Ferdinand Tönnies, a German sociologist, once distinguished between two types of social bonds—gemeinschaft and gesellschaft. Gemeinschaft, or the spirit of sense of collective identity, fosters active community participation in development processes, ensuring that progress aligns with the aspirations of the people. In contrast, gesellschaft reflects a more individualistic and rigid approach to development.
The Bajo people embody the spirit of Gemeinschaft. Their management of marine resources, guided by deeply rooted norms, demonstrates how collective identity can lead to sustainable practices. For them, the sea is a friend (sehe), a healer (tabar), a provider of food (anudinta), a means of mobility (lalang), a home (patambangan), and a source of both good and bad (pamunang ala’ baka raha’). This holistic view of the sea has allowed them to use the ocean’s resources wisely, without exploitation, and to protect the coral reefs (sappa) where they fish.
So, how well does the spirit of “kekitaan” manifest in development efforts in Indonesia? To what extent we can justify exploitative practices by citing Article 33, Paragraph 3 of the 1945 Constitution, which states that “land, water, and the natural resources contained within them are controlled by the state and used for the greatest prosperity of the people”? This interpretation is clearly a misconception and often results in harm rather than benefiting the people.
Although we want the community to develop, exploitative development is absolutely not the way forward. It frequently sidelines local communities, dismissing the value of Gemeinschaft as a barrier to progress. However, the consequences of environmental degradation disproportionately affect the poor, who rely on nature for their survival. Ignoring local wisdom in favor of short-term gains is a moral hazard that harms the very communities we aim to support.
Adding value to local knowledge
Having spent time in Bungin Island, I realize that they have been practicing sustainable living for centuries—long before it became a global trend. From natural dyes and pesticides to sacred forests and sustainable fishing practices, their way of life is rooted in minimizing the impact of human activities on the environment and respecting nature as an integral part of their existence.
These communities have long been ahead of the curve, practicing “sustainable living” on a low budget, and I’ve learned so much from them. Sometimes, modernity disrupts these traditions, making life more destructive to both the environment and the community itself.
Sustainable development hinges on building upon local wisdom and preserving the natural environment. Empowering local communities means respecting and enhancing their knowledge, not dismissing it as irrelevant to modern progress.
In Bungin Island, where the Bajo people have lived in harmony with their surroundings for centuries, this philosophy takes on a new urgency. With over 1,000 active fisherfolks and multiple fish collectors on the island, the potential for economic growth is immense. Yet, during peak fishing seasons, the average quality of fish can drop by 220 kg per month, with losses reaching up to 1.2 tons for some collectors. The root of the problem lies in limited knowledge of efficient fish management.
Here, sustainable development plays a crucial role. Sumbawa’s high solar radiation, averaging 5.7 kWh/m2, presents an opportunity to harness solar energy. By introducing clean energy technology, such as solar-powered cold storage, we can enhance the local wisdom that has sustained the Bajo people for generations. The goal is to maintain the quality of the fish they catch, boosting the economic value of their fisheries and opening up new opportunities for cross-provincial and international trade.
Providing additional value to local knowledge on efficient fish management will help drive economic productivity. This is our way of giving back to a community that has preserved their environment, while also seeking to stimulate their economy without compromising the integrity of their natural resources or undermining their sense of “kekitaan.”
Of course, implementing such changes is no easy task. It requires a robust ecosystem of innovation and sustainable development. A development approach rooted in “kekitaan” will encourage local communities to embrace change, leading to long-term prosperity for all. This is undoubtedly challenging to execute, as it requires a robust ecosystem of innovation and sustainable development. But we need to start somewhere, as this is about what we will pass on to our children and grandchildren in the next 25 to 50 years.
As Amitav Ghosh writes in his book The Nutmeg’s Curse – Parables for a Planet in Crisis:
“Sustainable solutions for rural areas often lie in the wisdom and traditions of their people. Empowerment means respecting and building on this local knowledge.”
Now, I understand that my role is not to change their character or way of life, which is already in harmony with sustainability, but to offer them alternative options for a more efficient way of living. The tools may change, but the goals remain the same, with a strong emphasis on respecting local wisdom.
Our task is to continue the sustainable lifestyle they’ve practiced for centuries, with a different approach and slightly updated technological solutions. Communities evolve and demand growth, and so should our methods—always grounded in the local traditions that have stood the test of time.
