Human Rights News / Indonesia, West Papua / 17 July 2025 

A new documentary reveals the devastating impact of Indonesia’s National Strategic Project (PSN) in Merauke, Papua Selatan Province, exposing how large-scale agricultural expansion under the guise of national food security results in the systematic violation of indigenous rights and environmental degradation. The project aims to convert at least 1.6 million hectares of indigenous Malind territory into rice fields and sugarcane plantations, backed by heavy equipment and military presence. Indigenous communities report land seizures without giving their free, prior informed consent (FPIC), while military forces secure the project areas, underscoring the militarisation of development in West Papua.

The film highlights growing resistance from indigenous Malind communities, who reject all forms of corporate investment on their customary lands. In March 2025, over 250 participants at the ‘Merauke Solidarity’ forum condemned the PSN as a corporate-driven initiative that disregards indigenous rights and causes irreversible environmental harm. The project has already triggered deforestation, water contamination, and loss of livelihoods. A government decree has allowed the conversion of more than 13,000 hectares of forest, including protected areas and peatlands, raising serious concerns about Indonesia’s climate commitments.

Despite widespread protests and criticism, government officials, including President Prabowo Subianto, continue to promote the Merauke food estate as a modern agricultural hub. The project aligns with broader patterns of repression across West Papua, where opposition is met with violence and intimidation. Since August 2024, demonstrations against PSN and transmigration have faced heavy-handed crackdowns, reflecting a national strategy that prioritises economic interests over indigenous survival.

The documentary serves as a timely and urgent record of these developments, revealing the complex interplay between state power, corporate interests, and indigenous resistance. It underscores the need for international scrutiny and intervention, warning that the unchecked expansion of PSN projects will exacerbate land conflicts, environmental destruction, and cultural extinction in West Papua.

Muhammad Zulfikar Rakhmat

This article is sourced from The Lowy Institue’s The Interpreter first published 4/7/25

While Chinese firms capitalise on the country’s resources, the
social and environmental damage lies squarely with Jakarta.

Smoke rises from Weda Bay Industrial Park, a major nickel processing and smelting hub in Central Halmahera, on 13 April 2025 (Yasuyoshi Chiba/AFP/Getty Images)

Published 4 Jul 2025 

• China
• Indonesia
• Human rights

The destruction of Indonesia’s rainforests and reefs in the name of green energy is a tragedy, but not one that can be pinned solely on China.

Yes, China has played a central and highly visible role in Indonesia’s nickel boom. It is the largest consumer of Indonesian nickel, the primary financier behind smelters and industrial parks, and a dominant foreign actor influencing how extraction unfolds. But Chinese companies do not force their way into Indonesia’s forests – they are merely capitalising on the rules, and loopholes, established by the Indonesian state.

To understand how the world’s largest nickel reserves are being transformed into sacrifice zones, we must begin with a critical truth: the rush to exploit these resources is not driven solely by foreign demand, but by domestic politics and governance choices made in Jakarta.

While Chinese firms certainly profit from this permissive and often corrupt environment, it is Indonesian authorities who enable and perpetuate it.

It is Indonesia that grants mining permits – often through processes vulnerable to corruption. It is Indonesia that oversees (or fails to oversee) environmental and labour assessments. It is Indonesia that silences youth activists and sidelines Indigenous communities when they speak out against these projects. While Chinese firms certainly profit from this permissive and often corrupt environment, it is Indonesian authorities who enable and perpetuate it.

A recent case from Raja Ampat, a remote archipelago in West Papua, underscores the stakes of Indonesia’s nickel rush. Last month, Indigenous youth disrupted a mining summit in Jakarta, holding signs reading “Nickel Mines Destroy Lives”. Their viral protest, under the hashtag #SaveRajaAmpat, drew attention to the threat that nickel extraction poses to their home. Several protesters were detained.

Raja Ampat, renowned for its marine biodiversity and Indigenous communities, is already reeling from the impacts of nickel mining. Of the four companies licensed to operate in the region, PT Anugerah Surya Pratama – linked to China’s Vansun Group – cleared protected forests and polluted the sea around Manuran Island. Indonesia’s Ministry of Environment confirmed these violations. Only after public outcry did the government revoke the permit, but by then, much of the damage had already been done.

The mining boom is not confined to far-flung Papua. In Central Sulawesi, Morowali has become the beating heart of Indonesia’s nickel processing industry. The Indonesia Morowali Industrial Park (IMIP), largely financed and constructed by Chinese companies such as Tsingshan Holding Group, stands as a flagship Belt and Road project. But its meteoric rise has come at an enormous cost: air and water pollution, deforestation, and rising greenhouse gas emissions in what was once promoted as a “green” zone.

The social toll is just as severe. Labour conditions at IMIP have raised alarms, with reports of long hours, meagre pay, poor safety standards, and frequent accidents. Tensions between Chinese and Indonesian workers have flared into violence on multiple occasions. Yet despite these concerns, the park continues to expand. The economic incentives for all parties are simply too great, and regulatory enforcement is often undermined by corruption. Indonesia’s 2020 ban on nickel ore exports – intended to promote domestic value-added processing – successfully attracted foreign capital. But the regulatory framework governing labour rights, environmental protections, and community engagement has failed to keep pace.

A similar pattern has taken root in Weda Bay, Halmahera. There, vast industrial complexes built by Chinese and French firms have reshaped the landscape. Forests have been razed, rivers contaminated, and traditional livelihoods upended. Promises of economic opportunity have been hollowed out as locals report being excluded from decision-making and witnessing a growing divide between investors and communities.

No labour abuses, environmental violations, or community displacements occur without institutional neglect – often compounded by corruption.

Indonesia’s failures are not isolated – they are systemic. Environmental impact assessments are routinely manipulated, labour standards poorly enforced, and Indigenous voices sidelined. Corruption facilitates these breaches, creating an environment where compliance is optional. The most powerful investors – Chinese state-linked enterprises among them – adapt accordingly.

Still, this does not absolve China. As the global leader in battery production and the architect of the Belt and Road Initiative, China has committed to making its development model “green and sustainable”. Yet it continues to finance and profit from operations that destroy ecosystems, exploit labour, and marginalise communities. What Beijing would never tolerate on its own soil – clear-cutting protected forests or operating in unsafe conditions – it enables abroad.

If China truly intends to lead the global energy transition, it must hold its companies accountable. This means refusing to finance environmentally destructive projects, setting higher standards for overseas operations, and enforcing consequences for corporate misconduct – not just when global outcry forces its hand.

But ultimately, the responsibility lies with Indonesia. No Chinese company can operate in Indonesia without state approval. No labour abuses, environmental violations, or community displacements occur without institutional neglect – often compounded by corruption. If Indonesia hopes to be seen as a responsible steward of its natural wealth, it must overhaul how mining projects are licensed, monitored, and enforced. It must empower Indigenous peoples and protect workers with the same urgency it grants mining permits.

Indonesia’s nickel boom is a test of the country’s ability to balance economic growth with sustainable governance. From Raja Ampat to Morowali, the impact of unchecked mining is evident – forests are cleared, labour is exploited, and communities are displaced.

We cannot place the blame squarely on China. But we must acknowledge that Indonesia’s governance – and the corruption within it – ultimately sets the terms.