Wednesday, December 3, 2025

Environmental Ethics: Rethinking Our Place in a Burning World (2)

There was an intriguing moment when President Prabowo visited the flood-affected areas in Sumatra, in late November to early December 2025. When the Regent of Southeast Aceh suddenly declared, “May President Prabowo become president for life!”, Prabowo responded with impeccable calm: a shake of the head and a raised hand—a clear, understated signal of “no, thank you.” Without any theatrics or exaggerated gestures, that simple movement conveyed his message: “I appreciate it, but absolutely not.”
Such a stance deserves genuine appreciation, for in the face of the temptations of power, many leaders might be easily swayed by praise or exaggerated adulation. Yet Prabowo’s decision to decline—quietly and without spectacle—demonstrated that he (at least in that moment) recognised that public office is not about eternal glory, nor about pleasing supporters or cultivating admiration, but rather about concrete duties: aiding victims, managing the state, and honouring the constitution.
And within the context of Indonesian democracy, rejecting the notion of a “president for life” stands as an affirmation that power must remain cyclical—so that accountability endures, leadership can regenerate, and the democratic spirit continues to thrive.

The President's actions always set the tone for the entire government's response during a crisis. Public assessment of President Prabowo's handling of the recent Sumatra floods presents a mixed, but generally politically defended, picture.
On the one hand, his supporters and elements within the government's narrative have highlighted his direct engagement and rapid mobilisation of state resources. The President undertook a timely visit to the affected regions, including Tapanuli Tengah, Aceh, and West Sumatra, demonstrating that the state was indeed present and attentive to the disaster. This swift action and physical presence in the field were heavily promoted by his political allies as proof of responsive leadership and a strong commitment to the people's welfare, with a focus on ensuring the speedy delivery of urgent aid like fuel (BBM) and the immediate restoration of critical infrastructure such as electricity and roads. He also explicitly mobilised the heads of state-owned enterprises, like the Directors of PLN and Pertamina, to accelerate the restoration of services.
On the other hand, the public's critique and that of some non-governmental activists focused primarily on the status of the disaster and the official statements regarding its cause. The most significant point of public contention was the President's assessment that the disaster did not need to be escalated to a National Disaster Status, arguing that the situation was already under control with existing regional resources, the well-established Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) of the National Disaster Management Agency (BNPB) and the Armed Forces (TNI) being sufficient. This stance was immediately met with online criticism, where some netizens and social media activists felt that the refusal to elevate the status showed a lack of comprehensive seriousness toward the scale of the tragedy and its deep underlying causes, such as alleged unregulated logging. They argued that declaring a national disaster would unlock more financial resources and a higher level of cross-sectoral coordination necessary for a complex, multi-regional catastrophe.
Therefore, the public assessment is polarised: while his actions of visiting and giving direct orders were seen by many as demonstrating 'State Presence' and 'Quick Response', his decision to keep the disaster status at a regional level generated significant controversy and disappointment among those who felt that the government was prioritising image management and downplaying the environmental root causes rather than allocating the maximum resources for recovery and prevention.

There also exist some discussions concerning the perceived 'image-building' or 'public relations stunts' of politicians that circulate widely on Indonesian social media. One notable figure who has faced significant public criticism regarding his actions in the field is Zulkifli Hasan, the Coordinating Minister for Food. His activities, such as his gesture of carrying a small sack of rice and personally assisting in cleaning up mud at a disaster location, were widely scrutinised by users across various digital platforms, with many suggesting these were carefully staged acts aimed solely at pencitraan, or improving his public image, rather than being genuine governmental policy actions for disaster management.

There is a public assessment of former Minister of Environment and Forestry, Siti Nurbaya Bakar, and the current Minister of Forestry, Raja Juli Antoni. Siti Nurbaya Bakar (Former Minister of Environment and Forestry)'s accountability for the Sumatra disaster is framed by the public and environmental organisations as one of systemic policy failure over her long tenure, rather than specific actions during the crisis.
Siti Nurbaya faced continuous, widespread criticism during her time in office for statements and policies that critics believed prioritised large-scale development over environmental conservation. Her controversial public statement that "massive development... should not stop... in the name of deforestation" made her the face of a government narrative that seemed to justify forest destruction for infrastructure and economic growth.
For environmental groups, her image is tied to the institutionalisation of deforestation and the weakening of ecological protections, which they argue directly created the conditions (loss of water absorption capacity in the uplands) that turned heavy rain into a catastrophic flood in Sumatra.
Moreover, she, along with the current Minister, has been the subject of demands from groups like the Koalisi Kawal Merah Putih (KKMP) to be investigated by the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) for alleged involvement in a bribery case related to forest area management, which further fuels public suspicion regarding the ethical governance of the nation's forests.

Raja Juli Antoni has faced intense and immediate public backlash for his handling and commentary following the Sumatra disaster. The most severe and widely condemned blunder was his use of the phrase "good momentum" to describe the deadly floods and landslides in Sumatra, arguing that it was a 'good momentum' for policy evaluation. This statement was immediately and widely condemned by netizens, politicians, and public figures as insensitive and lacking empathy towards the hundreds of victims who lost their lives or homes.
His public image was further damaged by a viral photo showing him playing dominoes with a former suspect in an illegal logging case. Critics swiftly labelled this a fatal ethical misstep, arguing that it compromised the integrity of the Minister responsible for cracking down on forest crimes, especially when illegal logging was heavily suspected as the root cause of the floods.
Although he correctly acknowledged the disaster as a sign of fundamental failures in environmental management, the public focus remains on his clumsy communication and the need for concrete action against the powerful forces driving deforestation, rather than his rhetoric. The House of Representatives (DPR) even called for him to be summoned to discuss the massive logs found in the floodwaters.
In essence, Siti Nurbaya's public condemnation is for the policy foundation that created the problem, whereas Raja Juli Antoni's is for his tactless statements and questionable associations while managing the immediate crisis.

The public holds Bahlil Lahadalia, the Minister of Energy and Mineral Resources (ESDM) is responsible for the regulation and oversight of the mining industry. Given that much of the environmental damage in the headwaters of Sumatra's rivers is linked to extractive industries, including mining, critics demand accountability for whether his ministry adequately supervised these activities. They question if the ministry failed to anticipate the consequences of mining activities in ecologically sensitive areas, especially in the face of known extreme weather patterns.

These three ministers are held accountable by various public elements not for the immediate disaster response, but for the policy failures and administrative negligence over land-use permits and environmental protection that critics assert turned a severe rainfall event into a large-scale ecological disaster.

Back again to our main topic.

Work on environmental ethics typically examines the moral relationship between human beings and the rest of the natural world. It seeks to expand the moral community beyond just humans, raising questions like: Do animals, plants, and ecosystems have intrinsic value? Should they be valued only for what they offer us, or also for their own sake? Such a work would likely survey different philosophical approaches—from human‑centred (anthropocentric) ethics to more life‑centred or ecosystem‑centred worldviews.

According to Environmental Ethics by Marcus Wright (2022, Bibliotex), in environmental philosophy,  environmental ethics is an established field of practical philosophy, which reconstructs the essential types of argumentation that can be made for protecting natural entities and the sustainable use of natural resources. The main competing paradigms are anthropocentrism, physiocentrism (also called ecocentrism), and theocentrism. Environmental ethics exerts influence across a wide range of disciplines, including environmental law, environmental sociology, ecotheology, ecological economics, ecology, and environmental geography. 
Anthropocentrism, which considers human interests as primary—thereby often seeing nature and non‑human life primarily in instrumental terms, as means for human benefit.  Biocentrism, which attributes intrinsic value to all living beings, not just humans, under this view, all living organisms matter morally simply by virtue of being alive. Ecocentrism (or holistic/ecological ethics), which considers ecosystems—with their interdependent species, nonliving components,  and ecological processes—as morally significant as wholes, not just as a collection of individual beings. 

Marcus Wright seeks to challenge the prevailing human-centred worldview by arguing that nature possesses intrinsic value beyond its utility to humankind. It emphasises that ethical responsibility must extend to ecosystems, species, and future generations, rather than being confined to immediate human interests. Wright explores philosophical traditions that underpin environmental thought, from deep ecology to ecofeminism, and critiques the exploitative tendencies of industrial society. He insists that environmental ethics is not merely an abstract philosophy but a practical framework for guiding policy, technology, and everyday choices. Ultimately, the book conveys that the survival of humanity is inseparable from the flourishing of the natural world, and that genuine justice requires recognising the moral standing of non-human life.

Wright argues that traditional ethics, rooted in human welfare and social contracts, fails to account for the moral significance of non-human entities. He explores how industrial progress and consumer culture have normalised the exploitation of nature, framing it as a resource rather than a community of living systems. Wright introduces key philosophical debates—such as whether value is intrinsic to nature or merely assigned by human perception—and highlights the urgency of rethinking our ethical frameworks in light of ecological crises. Wright establishes environmental ethics as a necessary corrective, urging readers to expand their moral imagination beyond human boundaries. Where conventional ethics has largely confined itself to human relationships, rights, and duties, environmental ethics insists on widening the circle of moral concern to include non-human life and ecological systems. This correction challenges the assumption that nature is merely a backdrop or a warehouse of resources, and instead frames it as a community of beings with intrinsic value. Wright argues that such a shift is essential because it reorients human responsibility away from domination and exploitation towards stewardship, reciprocity, and respect. By doing so, environmental ethics provides a counterbalance to the industrial and consumerist worldview, reminding us that justice and sustainability cannot be achieved without recognising the moral standing of the natural world.
According to Wright, the advance of industrialisation and the rise of consumer culture have gradually normalised the exploitation of nature by embedding it into everyday life and economic systems. Industrial progress is celebrated as a symbol of human achievement, yet it is built upon the relentless extraction of resources, the transformation of landscapes, and the commodification of living systems. Consumer culture reinforces this pattern by teaching individuals to equate well-being with material acquisition, thereby masking the ecological costs behind the glamour of convenience and abundance. Over time, these practices have become so deeply woven into social norms and economic structures that the exploitation of the environment appears natural, inevitable, and even desirable. Wright insists that this normalisation is precisely what must be challenged, for it blinds society to the moral significance of ecological degradation and perpetuates a worldview in which nature is reduced to a warehouse of goods rather than a community of life.

Wright explains that environmental ethics and animal ethics are closely related but not identical: environmental ethics focuses on the moral value of ecosystems, species, and the natural world as a whole, while animal ethics concentrates on the moral standing and welfare of individual sentient creatures. Animal ethics, as described here, is the philosophical view that animals deserve ethical consideration because of their capacity to suffer, feel, and live meaningful lives, and thus should not be reduced to mere resources for human use.
Wright situates animal ethics as a vital companion to environmental ethics, though the two disciplines diverge in emphasis. Environmental ethics is holistic, concerned with the preservation of biodiversity, ecological systems, and the integrity of nature as a collective entity. Animal ethics, by contrast, is individualistic, centring moral concern on the rights and welfare of sentient beings. Environmental ethics may sometimes justify actions that harm individual animals for the sake of ecosystem balance, but animal ethics insists that each creature’s suffering and well-being must be taken seriously. Wright portrays this tension not as a contradiction but as a necessary dialogue: environmental ethics broadens our moral imagination to include the whole of nature, while animal ethics ensures that individual lives are not overlooked. Together, they form a more complete ethical framework, reminding us that justice must encompass both the flourishing of ecosystems and the dignity of individual animals.

Imagine a grand assembly hall where the rainforest, dressed in emerald robes, takes the podium as the chairperson. Beside it sits a scruffy street cat, representing the voice of individual animals. The rainforest speaks of balance, biodiversity, and the collective survival of ecosystems, while the cat interrupts with sharp wit, reminding everyone that justice is meaningless if the suffering of individuals is ignored. The meeting quickly becomes a parody of human politics: the rainforest proposes sweeping policies to protect rivers and forests, while the cat demands food, shelter, and dignity for every creature. Together, they expose the absurdity of a worldview that celebrates industrial progress yet forgets the moral standing of both ecosystems and sentient beings. The poster’s slogan reads: “No Justice Without Leaves and Whiskers.”

Marcus Wright’s Environmental Ethics portrays the relationship between environmental ethics and animal ethics as one of cause and consequence, rather than simple parallelism. He explains that when we begin to take environmental ethics seriously—acknowledging the intrinsic value of ecosystems and the moral significance of the natural world—it inevitably reshapes how we think about individual animals. Environmental ethics provides the broader framework: it insists that the destruction of habitats, pollution, and ecological imbalance are moral wrongs because they undermine the integrity of nature itself. The consequence of this recognition is that animal ethics emerges as a necessary extension, since the degradation of ecosystems directly harms the lives of sentient creatures who depend upon them. Conversely, Wright argues that animal ethics, by insisting on the dignity and welfare of individual beings, often leads us back to environmental ethics, because protecting animals cannot be achieved without safeguarding the habitats and ecological systems in which they live. Thus, the two are causally intertwined: environmental ethics generates the conditions for animal ethics to be meaningful, while animal ethics reinforces the urgency of environmental ethics by grounding it in the lived suffering and flourishing of individual creatures.

[Part 3]
[Part 1]

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

Environmental Ethics: Rethinking Our Place in a Burning World (1)

Why does Superman have a dog? Superman has a dog because, even as an alien with extraordinary powers, he still yearns for companionship, loyalty, and a touch of normalcy—qualities a dog provides in abundance. His canine companion, Krypto the Superdog, is more than just a pet; he is a symbol of Superman’s lingering connection to his home planet, Krypton. Krypto was originally sent to Earth in a test rocket by Superman’s father, Jor-El, and later reunited with Kal-El. This superpowered dog shares many of Superman’s abilities, but more importantly, he offers unconditional affection and support, reminding Superman that even the mightiest being in the universe needs someone who loves him not for his strength, but for who he is. In a world that often places Superman on a pedestal, Krypto brings him back down to Earth—literally and figuratively.
The bond between Superman and his dog, Krypto, can surprisingly be connected to environmental issues if we look beyond the surface. At its core, their relationship reflects the idea of interdependence—how even the most powerful being needs a companion from nature to remain grounded and humane. In a world plagued by climate change, deforestation, and extinction, the presence of Krypto serves as a gentle reminder of the value of non-human life and the role animals play in emotional balance and ecological harmony. Superman, who lost his home planet due to its destruction, embodies the tragedy of environmental collapse. Through Krypto, we’re reminded that if even an alien saviour clings to the last remnants of his natural world, then we, too, should fiercely protect what little of ours remains. It’s not just about saving the planet; it’s about saving the soul of it—and that soul often has four legs and a wagging tail. 

Environmental Ethics, at its core, is the philosophical inquiry into how we ought to relate to the natural world. It demands that we question not only what we are doing to our environment, but why we are doing it, and what moral consequences arise from our choices. In an age of climate breakdown and ecological crisis, such reflection is no longer optional—it is essential.

Our current environmental challenges are not purely scientific or technical in nature. They are deeply moral, demanding a re-examination of our values, priorities, and sense of justice. Environmental Ethics calls for a shift from viewing nature as an object of use to acknowledging it as a community of life to which we belong.
In Environmental Ethics: A Very Short Introduction (2018, Oxford University Press), Robin Attfield illustrates that ethical theories and ecological concerns are deeply interwoven, as questions about how we should live inevitably extend to how we treat the natural world. He shows that classical ethical theories—such as utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics—can be expanded to address environmental issues. For instance, utilitarianism asks us to consider the consequences of our actions on the well-being of all sentient beings, which can include animals and perhaps ecosystems. Deontological approaches emphasise duties and rights, which can be extended to include duties to protect nature or to respect the rights of future generations. Virtue ethics, meanwhile, encourages the cultivation of character traits such as humility, responsibility, and care—qualities that foster ecological awareness and stewardship. Attfield argues that these theories must evolve to confront the unprecedented scale of human impact on the environment. Thus, ethical reasoning becomes a vital compass for navigating climate change, biodiversity loss, and environmental injustice, urging humanity to rethink its place in the web of life.
Attfield carefully examines the moral relationship between human beings and the natural world by exploring four central and interconnected debates: intrinsic value in nature, sustainable development, ecological justice, and our responsibilities to future generations. He argues that understanding our ethical obligations to the environment begins with recognising that nature may possess value independent of human use or interest. This idea of intrinsic value challenges anthropocentric views and invites us to see forests, rivers, animals, and ecosystems not merely as resources, but as entities worthy of respect in their own right.
Building on this, Attfield discusses sustainable development as a moral imperative—a way to meet present needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet theirs. This connects directly to the notion of ecological justice, which demands fairness not only among humans but also between species and ecosystems. It calls for a redistribution of environmental benefits and burdens, ensuring that the poor, the marginalised, and non-human life forms are not unfairly harmed by environmental degradation.
Attfield underscores the moral responsibility we hold toward future generations. He contends that just because future people do not yet exist, it does not mean they lack moral standing. On the contrary, the decisions we make today will shape the conditions of their lives, and therefore, we owe them a duty of care and stewardship. By weaving these ideas together, the book constructs a compelling vision of ethics that extends beyond the human community to embrace all life and the planet itself.

Environmental Ethics: An Introduction to Environmental Philosophy by Joseph R. DesJardins (2013, Wadsworth) explores the complex relationship between human beings and the natural world through the lens of moral philosophy. He provides an accessible yet comprehensive introduction to ethical theories—such as utilitarianism, deontology, virtue ethics, and deep ecology—and examines how these frameworks inform our duties to the environment. He invites readers to critically engage with concepts such as sustainability, intrinsic value in nature, ecological justice, and intergenerational responsibility, all while situating the discussion within pressing real-world environmental dilemmas.
According to DesJardins, the relationship between human beings and nature must be re-evaluated through the moral lenses traditionally reserved for human-to-human interactions. DesJardins argues that ethical considerations should not end at the boundaries of our species; rather, they should extend to the non-human world—animals, plants, ecosystems, and the Earth itself. He challenges the anthropocentric worldview that regards nature merely as a resource for human exploitation and instead invites readers to consider whether nature possesses intrinsic value, independent of its usefulness to us. The book encourages moral reflection on our responsibilities not only toward the present generation but also toward future generations who will inherit the ecological consequences of our actions. Ultimately, it calls for a shift in moral consciousness—a movement from domination and control to stewardship, respect, and a sense of shared belonging with the natural world.
DesJardins invites readers to critically engage with core environmental concepts by weaving them seamlessly into the fabric of real-world environmental crises. Rather than treating sustainability, intrinsic value in nature, ecological justice, and intergenerational responsibility as abstract ideals, he grounds these concepts in the moral dilemmas we face daily—rising sea levels, deforestation, species extinction, climate change, and environmental degradation caused by human activities. DesJardins employs philosophical reasoning to encourage readers to question their assumptions: Is nature valuable only when it serves human needs, or does it possess worth in and of itself? Should our ethical obligations be limited to our contemporaries, or do they extend to future generations yet unborn? Through this moral inquiry, he pushes readers to reimagine our place in the natural order—not as conquerors or consumers, but as caretakers within a delicate and interdependent system. His writing provokes reflection, ethical discomfort, and ultimately, a sense of urgency that aligns philosophical theory with ecological reality.
According to DesJardins, the philosophy of the environment is the systematic exploration of how we ought to think about and relate to the natural world from a moral and conceptual perspective. It is a form of critical reflection that questions the assumptions underpinning our attitudes toward nature—whether we see it merely as a commodity, a machine, or as a living community deserving of moral respect. DesJardins argues that environmental philosophy challenges the dominant anthropocentric worldview, which places humans at the centre of all value, and instead opens the door to more ecocentric or biocentric perspectives that see value throughout the web of life. This philosophical approach not only critiques existing environmental practices but also helps shape new paradigms—ethical frameworks that prioritise sustainability, responsibility, humility, and a sense of interconnectedness with all living things. In essence, the philosophy of the environment invites us to rethink what it means to be human in a world that is shared, fragile, and finite.

In
A New Environmental Ethics: The Next Millennium for Life on Earth (2012, Routledge), Holmes Rolston III argues that the environmental crises facing humanity require a radical rethinking of our moral obligations—not only to other humans but to the entire biosphere. He challenges readers to expand their ethical horizons beyond anthropocentric concerns and to consider the intrinsic value of all life forms, ecosystems, and evolutionary processes. Rather than treating nature as a resource for human consumption, he encourages a philosophical transformation where the Earth is respected as a community to which we belong, not a commodity we possess.
Rolston's approach is both urgent and philosophical, blending ecological science with deep moral reflection. He critiques the limitations of traditional ethical theories that focus solely on human interests, calling instead for an ethic that honours the complexity, beauty, and suffering of the natural world. Importantly, he introduces the idea that nature itself has agency and worth, independent of its usefulness to human beings. His work asks us to reflect on what kind of future we want—not just for ourselves, but for all life on Earth in the coming millennium.

We must confront the uncomfortable truth that humanity has long behaved as if Earth were an infinite warehouse of resources. This illusion has been bolstered by centuries of exploitation, colonialism, and consumer capitalism. But no system can grow indefinitely on a planet with finite resources.
This outdated worldview still informs many of our policies and economic systems. It seduces us with promises of endless growth and convenience, while hiding the costs—costs paid not only in carbon and waste, but in injustice and displacement.

The question is no longer whether we should care about the environment. The question is: why have we waited so long? Every day we delay action, we edge closer to irreversible tipping points. Ethics insists that we act not just efficiently, but justly.
Those who benefit from environmental destruction are often far removed from its consequences. Wealthy nations and corporations extract, pollute, and profit, while vulnerable communities bear the brunt of the damage—through floods, disease, and resource scarcity. Marginalised communities—especially indigenous peoples, people of colour, and low-income groups—often suffer the worst environmental harms. This is not a coincidence; it is environmental racism. It reveals how pollution and exploitation follow the lines of power and privilege.

Environmental Ethics demands that we take the idea of intergenerational justice. What right do we have to pass on a degraded planet to future generations simply for the sake of short-term gain? This is not merely an ecological concern—it is a moral failure.

Our obsession with short-term convenience—plastic packaging, fast fashion, cheap flights—must be weighed against long-term consequences. Every item we consume has an ethical footprint. To pretend otherwise is to absolve ourselves from responsibility. Recycling, though commendable, is no longer enough. Planting trees is admirable, but insufficient. True environmental ethics requires confronting the systems that make harm profitable and justice expendable. We cannot tackle environmental destruction without confronting the capitalist engine that fuels it. When growth is prioritised over justice, and profit over people, ethics is the only compass that can guide us back.

Our relationship with nature must be interrogated. Are we caretakers or conquerors? Partners or parasites? The way we answer these questions shapes not just policy, but identity.
Philosophy must descend from the ivory tower and enter the polluted rivers, the clear-cut forests, the scorched savannahs. Environmental ethics must be lived and applied, not merely theorised. It is crucial to listen to the voices often excluded from the mainstream conversation—especially indigenous knowledge keepers and grassroots activists. Their wisdom is not primitive—it is prophetic. Climate change magnifies every moral dilemma. It makes visible the consequences of our choices in time, space, and across generations. No ethical framework is complete unless it includes the climate lens.

Our ethical blind spots often stem from convenience. It is easy not to care when the pollution happens elsewhere, when the sweatshops are in another country, when the rainforest isn’t in your backyard. But ethical responsibility begins with awareness. It demands that we look closer, think harder, and feel deeper about the consequences of our lifestyles and policies. It is not enough to tell people what to do—we must cultivate moral imagination. We must be able to picture a world where the Earth is not something to exploit, but something to revere and protect.

Education is a powerful tool here. Environmental ethics must be taught not just as an abstract subject, but as a lived responsibility. In schools, in media, in public discourse. Laws must evolve to reflect moral truths. Should rivers have legal rights? Should ecosystems be granted protection not because they are useful to humans, but because they have intrinsic value? We cannot separate the ecological crisis from the social crisis. The planet is not dying in isolation—it is being killed by the same forces that oppress people: greed, domination, and indifference. The struggle for environmental justice is also the struggle for human dignity. It is a fight to ensure that no one—human or non-human—is sacrificed for someone else’s comfort. As we look ahead, the ethical path becomes clearer. We must abandon illusions of mastery and embrace humility. We must listen more than we speak, restore more than we extract. 

The question that remains is: what kind of ancestors do we want to be remembered as? Will we be the generation that chose silence, or the one that rose to responsibility? Environmental ethics urges us to break away from business as usual. It invites us to reimagine our place in the world—not as dominators, but as participants in a shared, fragile miracle. Hope lies not in naïve optimism, but in courageous accountability. If we act with moral clarity and collective resolve, we still have time to turn the tide. Ethics, ultimately, is about how we treat what we cannot replace. The Earth, once destroyed, cannot be remade. The time to act with conscience is not tomorrow—it is now.

[Part 2]

When Floods as a Test

Floods remind us of the fragility of human existence. They sweep away homes, possessions, and sometimes lives, leaving behind silence that echoes the power of Allah’s decree. In the rising waters, we see not only destruction but also a reminder that nothing in this world is permanent.
The Qur’an teaches that calamities are not merely punishments but also tests. Floods, like other disasters, awaken our hearts to humility. They strip away arrogance and remind us that wealth, power, and comfort can vanish in a single night.

In the face of floods, believers are called to patience (sabr) and trust (tawakkul). Patience allows us to endure hardship without despair, while trust anchors our souls in the certainty that Allah’s wisdom surpasses our limited understanding.
Floods also remind us of the Day of Judgement, when the earth will be overturned and all that we cling to will be swept away. Just as water erases boundaries and possessions, so too will the final hour erase illusions of permanence.
Yet within the flood lies mercy. Communities unite, strangers help one another, and hearts soften. In disaster, Allah opens doors for compassion, charity, and solidarity, teaching us that even in hardship, goodness can flourish.

Floods remind us that the earth itself is entrusted to us. When rivers overflow and cities drown, we are confronted with the reality that neglecting the environment has consequences. The believer sees in this a call to stewardship, to care for creation as a trust from Allah.
The Prophet (ﷺ) taught that the strong believer is better and more beloved to Allah than the weak believer, though in both there is goodness. In times of flood, strength is not only physical but spiritual: the ability to remain firm in faith while waters rise.

Floods strip away illusions of control. We plan, we build, we secure our lives, yet a single storm can undo decades of effort. This humbles us, reminding that true security lies not in walls or wealth but in the mercy of Allah.
In the aftermath of floods, survivors often speak of gratitude. Though possessions are lost, life remains. Gratitude in hardship is a mark of faith, for the believer sees blessings even in the midst of trial.
Floods remind us of Noah’s Ark, a story preserved in the Qur’an. Humanity once faced waters that covered the earth, and salvation was found only in obedience to Allah. The flood of Noah is not just history; it is a timeless lesson about faith and survival.

Floods remind us that wealth is fleeting. Gold, land, and possessions can be submerged in moments, teaching us that true richness lies in faith and good deeds. The Prophet (ﷺ) taught that charity extinguishes sins as water extinguishes fire, and in floods, giving to those in need becomes a path to forgiveness and mercy.

Floods strip away illusions of control and human pride. Towers collapse, bridges break, and arrogance is washed away, leaving only the truth of Allah’s power. In such moments, children cry and elders tremble, awakening compassion in our hearts and urging us to protect the vulnerable and honour the trust of the community.

Floods remind us of the verse: “Indeed, with hardship comes ease.” Even as waters rise, Allah promises relief and hope for those who endure. The Prophet (ﷺ) encouraged believers to help neighbours, and in floods this teaching shines, as survival often depends on shared food, shelter, and kindness.

Floods remind us that time is precious. A single storm can erase years of labour, urging us to invest our hours in deeds that endure beyond this world. In the rising waters, believers learn resilience, for faith becomes a raft carrying hearts across despair toward shores of hope.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s words: “The world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the disbeliever.” Disasters reveal that the worldly paradise is fragile. They also teach us to value simplicity, for when possessions vanish, a loaf of bread and a dry blanket become treasures beyond measure.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s teaching that the best of people are those most beneficial to others. In a disaster, this truth becomes visible in acts of service and solidarity. Houses crumble, but faith remains, proving that the eternal home is not built of bricks but of belief.

Floods remind us of Pharaoh, who drowned despite his power. Water humbles kings and peasants alike, showing that all stand equal before Allah. In the aftermath, gratitude arises for small mercies: a dry corner, a helping hand, a prayer whispered in darkness.

Floods remind us that life is fragile. A single wave can change destiny, urging us to prepare for the eternal journey. They also teach believers to share, for when food is scarce, generosity becomes survival, and sharing bread becomes worship.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s compassion, who wept for his people. In disaster, we are called to embody that mercy in our own lives. Pride in possessions sinks with cars, clothes, and jewels, teaching that true adornment is piety and humility.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s teaching that the believer is like a palm tree, resilient in storms. Faith bends but does not break. As waters cleanse the land, repentance cleanses the soul, preparing us for Allah’s mercy.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s teaching that the best of people are those most beneficial to others. In a disaster, this truth becomes visible in acts of service and solidarity, where neighbours share food, strangers offer shelter, and communities rise together. Houses crumble, but faith remains, proving that the eternal home is not built of bricks but of belief.

Floods remind us of the Prophet (ﷺ)’s teaching that the believer is never defeated, for trials only increase reward. In disaster, loss becomes a ladder to higher ranks, and patience transforms pain into elevation.

Floods remind us that remembrance of death is a mercy. When waters sweep away illusions of permanence, we are urged to prepare for the eternal meeting with Allah. Disasters awaken us from heedlessness, guiding us back to the path of repentance.

Floods remind us that unity is strength. When hearts join, burdens lighten, and survival becomes possible. The Prophet (ﷺ) likened believers to bricks supporting one another, and in floods, this metaphor becomes reality as communities rebuild together.

Floods remind us that prayer is a refuge. In the roar of waters, believers lift their hands, seeking protection and mercy. Prayer becomes the ark that carries souls through storms, anchoring them in divine care.

Floods remind us that gratitude is not limited to ease. To thank Allah in hardship is to declare trust in His wisdom. Gratitude transforms disaster into a classroom, where lessons of humility and resilience are taught.

Floods remind us of Noah’s Ark, where salvation was found in obedience. Humanity once faced waters that covered the earth, and only those who followed Allah’s command were saved. This story echoes in every flood, urging us to cling to faith as our vessel of survival.

Floods remind us that hope is a form of worship. To believe that relief will come, even when waters rise, is to affirm Allah’s promise. Hope is not naïve; it is faith in action, a light that guides hearts through darkness.

As floodwaters rise, so too should our awareness of the delicate balance between human ambition and natural order. Nature, while powerful, is not capricious; it responds to choices made by humanity with precision beyond our comprehension.

The Quran teaches that every event carries wisdom, even when its immediate lesson seems hidden in sorrow. Each displaced family is a living lesson in resilience, reminding us that patience is more than passive endurance. Community support reflects the principle that no believer is isolated; we are interdependent by divine design.

Environmental negligence is a moral issue; every felled tree represents a breach of the trust Allah has given us. Floods, then, are a convergence of spiritual testing and ecological consequence, inseparable in their lesson. Reflection upon calamity should not lead to despair but to renewed commitment to ethical living. Allah’s mercy is abundant, and within every trial is the opportunity for spiritual growth and social awakening. The tears shed by victims are not wasted; they are a testimony to the shared humanity that Islam exhorts us to protect.

Islam elevates the moral responsibility of stewardship to a sacred duty, intertwining faith with action. Natural disasters reveal both the weaknesses and strengths of societies, highlighting areas for reform and compassion. Faith manifests not only in prayer but in active participation in alleviating suffering.

Floods in Sumatra illustrate the consequences of disrupting natural cycles, reminding us of our accountability. Preservation of forests and careful management of land are acts that honor Allah’s creation and protect human life. Neglecting these responsibilities is a form of transgression, reflecting spiritual and societal deficiency.

Each flood brings a renewed awareness that wealth and status cannot replace moral and ecological responsibility. Victims’ endurance amidst destruction is an invitation to witness and learn from their courage. Spiritual reflection is complemented by practical action: rebuilding homes, restoring lands, and supporting livelihoods.

Compassionate intervention is a form of worship, transforming calamity into an opportunity for virtue. The Quran reminds us that those who act justly upon the Earth are blessed, while those who exploit it face consequences.

Flood is a mirror reflecting both human failings and divine mercy, compelling introspection and societal correction. Islam encourages foresight: anticipating disasters, mitigating harm, and acting responsibly towards creation. Even amidst suffering, believers are called to find moments of gratitude for life, for companions, and for hope.

Natural disasters teach humility, showing that technological advancement cannot shield us from divine will. Ethical governance is inseparable from environmental responsibility; neglect leads to amplified calamity. By integrating faith with ecological consciousness, communities embody holistic Islamic values.

Every flood-affected village is a classroom, imparting lessons of patience, cooperation, and ethical accountability. Social solidarity in the aftermath reflects the mercy and justice that Islam enjoins upon believers. The Prophet ﷺ emphasised that even small acts of kindness are magnified in reward during times of hardship.

Faith is tested through calamity, but it is also strengthened through acts of compassion and service. The destruction caused by floods is a reminder that the Earth is not a possession but a trust from Allah. Communities must therefore embrace sustainability as a form of worship and moral responsibility.

Witnessing destruction provokes reflection: how have our actions altered the natural balance entrusted to us?
Patience is complemented by proactive measures: rebuilding better, restoring ecosystems, and educating future generations.

Each disaster serves as a spiritual awakening, calling for repentance, humility, and renewed ethical commitment. Humanity is intertwined with nature; neglecting one endangers the other.

Floods remind us that arrogance in exploiting natural resources is perilous, spiritually and materially. Believers are urged to view calamity as a teacher, revealing lessons hidden beneath the immediate loss. Helping victims is both a moral imperative and an expression of gratitude for the blessings we have preserved.

Environmental stewardship is a form of jihad, striving to protect life and preserve Allah’s creation. Every act of reforestation, careful land management, and sustainable practice is rewarded by divine acknowledgement.

Observing human suffering fosters empathy, an essential component of spiritual refinement. Floods unveil both vulnerability and resilience, showing the duality of life’s trials and blessings.

Islam encourages believers to seek knowledge, not only of the unseen but also of the natural laws that govern our world. By understanding ecology and acting responsibly, we fulfill part of the trust Allah has placed in us. Floods highlight how neglect, greed, and shortsightedness can amplify the severity of natural events. Communities that respond with compassion demonstrate the living reality of Islamic ethics. Human actions are intertwined with consequences, a principle echoed throughout the Quran.

Reflection, prayer, and action form a triad that allows believers to respond holistically to calamity. Floods are a reminder that security is temporary, but moral vigilance and faith endure. Each hand extended in help transforms despair into hope and suffering into shared experience.
The Prophet ﷺ taught that saving one life is akin to saving all of humanity, a principle evident in disaster relief. Floods serve as a call to stewardship, reminding us that divine gifts come with responsibilities.

Environmental ethics are inseparable from spiritual ethics; carelessness in one reflects deficiency in the other. Human arrogance often precedes calamity, but humility and awareness mitigate suffering. Flood-affected lands are a canvas for lessons in patience, courage, and cooperative action.

Believers learn that worldly possessions are fleeting, while virtues cultivated in adversity are lasting. Acts of service and kindness during floods are a form of spiritual purification. Every disaster invites reflection on how society balances progress with preservation. The destruction wrought by floods in Sumatra underscores the urgency of ethical environmental practices.
Faith motivates both personal resilience and collective responsibility, ensuring that tragedy becomes a catalyst for improvement. Patience, perseverance, and proactive measures exemplify the integration of spiritual and practical wisdom. Observing the aftermath reveals the community's strength, highlighting the Islamic ideal of mutual aid. Floods remind us that human ambition must be tempered by ethical responsibility and foresight.

Nature’s response to exploitation is precise; every mismanagement leaves a mark that manifests eventually. Spiritual reflection inspires environmental consciousness, linking devotion to ethical action.

Islam teaches that accountability extends to every realm: spiritual, social, and ecological. Communities that nurture empathy, disaster plan, and restore ecosystems reflect divine guidance in action. Floodwaters reveal both fragility and resilience, calling for balance between awe and proactive care. Acts of kindness, provision of shelter, and support for victims are tangible expressions of faith.

Each flood is a reminder that the Earth is sacred, entrusted to humanity as a test and responsibility. The Quran encourages foresight, prevention, and repair, principles directly relevant to disaster management. Banjir teaches that ethical choices in land use, forestry, and mining have far-reaching consequences. Spiritual contemplation must inspire environmental stewardship, turning reflection into meaningful change.

The floods of Sumbar, Aceh, and Sumut call for collective learning and renewed ethical commitment. Patience, empathy, and practical action are inseparable components of a holistic response to calamity.  Every disaster is an opportunity to strengthen faith, community, and environmental responsibility. By observing nature, assisting victims, and preserving creation, believers embody the teachings of Islam.

In every rising tide and receding water, we find reminders of Allah’s power, mercy, and the sacred trust of stewardship. Floods in Sumbar, Aceh, and Sumut highlight the need for sustainable practices and ethical stewardship. Reflection on calamity strengthens faith and inspires action, preventing passivity in the face of adversity.

Environmental awareness, community solidarity, and moral responsibility are inseparable in Islamic ethics. The cycle of destruction and renewal serves as a spiritual metaphor for patience, perseverance, and hope.

Floods teach that human ambition must be tempered by ethical responsibility and ecological mindfulness. Nature responds with precision, reflecting the consequences of neglect and overexploitation. Compassionate action during disasters transforms grief into constructive service, embodying faith in motion.

The Quran emphasises that balance and moderation are central, guiding humanity in all interactions with creation. Floods remind believers that true security is found in virtue, community, and reliance upon Allah. Witnessing devastation evokes spiritual reflection, calling for humility, gratitude, and ethical vigilance.

Environmental ethics is an extension of spiritual ethics, making preservation a sacred responsibility. Communities that rebuild, restore, and support reflect the holistic values of Islam in practice. Floods highlight the duality of trials: they test patience and faith, yet provide opportunities for moral and social growth. Each act of kindness, volunteerism, and environmental restoration is magnified in reward when done with sincere intention.

Nature’s power is a reminder that humanity must act responsibly and ethically, embracing both reflection and action. Flood-affected landscapes teach lessons in humility, resilience, and communal responsibility, guiding future behaviour.
Ultimately, every flood is a call to integrate faith, morality, and stewardship, forging a harmonious relationship between humanity, nature, and Allah.

And Allah knows best the truth.

Monday, December 1, 2025

Sumatra's Disaster: Local or National?

In the Handbook of Disaster Research, edited by Havidán Rodríguez, William Donner, and Joseph E. Trainor (2018, Springer), the term “disaster” is understood in a broader, more social context than simply a natural hazard. The book emphasises that disasters are not merely events of nature, but rather phenomena that occur when hazardous events interact with societal vulnerability, exposure, and the capacity of communities to respond. A disaster is defined as a serious disruption of the functioning of a community or society at any scale, which results in human, material, economic, and environmental losses and impacts, exceeding the affected community’s ability to cope using its own resources. In this framework, the focus shifts from the hazard itself to the social structures and conditions that make a society vulnerable, such as poverty, inadequate planning, weak infrastructure, and limited institutional capacity. Therefore, what constitutes a disaster depends not only on the occurrence of hazardous events but also on how social, economic, and institutional factors influence the severity of its impact. The Handbook of Disaster Research encourages a multidisciplinary approach to understanding disasters, integrating perspectives from sociology, public policy, urban planning, and risk management, alongside traditional studies of natural hazards.
In this context, the English word “disaster” is best translated into Bahasa Indonesia as “bencana”. According to the Handbook, a disaster or “bencana” can be understood as a serious disruption to the functioning of a community or society caused by a hazardous event that interacts with conditions of vulnerability and exposure, resulting in human, material, economic, or environmental losses that exceed the community’s capacity to cope using its own resources. This definition underscores that a disaster is not merely a natural phenomenon, but a socially and structurally mediated condition where the interplay between hazard, vulnerability, and capacity determines whether an event becomes catastrophic.

The editors and contributors argue that what constitutes a “disaster” depends on social context: vulnerability, inequality, governance, and historical processes shape who suffers and how badly. The book brings together sociological, demographic, economic, and policy‑oriented analyses to show that disasters expose structural weaknesses — in inequality, urban planning, social services — and that recovery, mitigation, and resilience require addressing those systemic vulnerabilities, not just reacting to the “hazard event.” 
Thus, the central message is: disasters reveal existing social fault lines, and social science must lead in understanding disasters — not only geoscience or meteorology.

In the Handbook of Disaster Research, disasters are portrayed not just as episodes of nature‑induced destruction, but as socially mediated events whose severity and consequences depend heavily on pre‑existing social, economic, demographic and policy structures. The editors and contributors argue that what makes a hazardous event turn into a “disaster” is not merely the force of nature, but the intersection between that hazard and human vulnerability shaped by inequalities, social stratification, and uneven distribution of resources. 
From a sociological and demographic standpoint, the book pays attention to how differences in class, race, ethnicity, gender, age, disability, and other axes of social stratification shape who is most vulnerable to disasters. For instance, social and economic inequalities—poverty, marginalisation, lack of political voice—often mean that disadvantaged groups suffer disproportionately when disasters strike. Similarly, children, the elderly, disabled people, or socially marginalised populations have reduced capacity to cope and recover—which demonstrates that demographics and social structure play a central role in shaping disaster outcomes. 
Economically, the Handbook suggests that disasters tend to amplify pre‑existing economic inequalities rather than affect everyone equally. Communities or individuals with limited resources, unstable income, poor housing or lack of savings are less able to absorb shocks, recover, or rebuild. The economic impacts — loss of property, disruption of livelihoods, increased costs—often hit hardest those already on the margins. This underlines how disasters both reflect and reinforce structural economic injustice. 
From a public policy and urban planning perspective, the book criticises approaches that treat disasters as isolated natural events to be combated solely by emergency responses or infrastructural fixes. Instead, it emphasises that long‑term mitigation and resilience require systemic changes: better spatial planning, equitable housing policies, social safety nets, inclusive disaster governance, and policies that reduce social vulnerability. The inclusion of chapters such as Climate Change and Disasters and Contributions of Technological and Natech Disaster Research to the Social Science Disaster Paradigm reflects the need to integrate hazard mitigation with social, technological and environmental policy — not simply to respond after a disaster, but to prevent or minimise one by transforming the social conditions that make populations vulnerable. 
Importantly, the Handbook views disasters as opportunities for research and social reflection: during disaster and recovery phases, social inequalities, institutions’ readiness (or lack thereof), community resilience or fragmentation, and governance failures become starkly visible — more so than during stable times. This visibility can allow social scientists, policymakers and communities to diagnose structural injustice, question previous planning or governance failures, and promote reforms oriented toward justice, equity, and resilience. 
Therefore, according to the Handbook, effective disaster mitigation and recovery must go beyond “hard” physical or technical solutions (e.g., flood barriers, drainage, early warning). They must also address “soft” structural dimensions: reducing poverty and inequality, ensuring equitable access to services, strengthening community social capital and institutional capacity, improving urban planning, and inclusive policy that anticipates vulnerability. Only by confronting these root social and structural conditions can societies build resilience and reduce the risk that future hazards become catastrophes.

According to Hazards, Risks, and Disasters in Society (edited by Andrew E. Collins et al., Elsevier, 2015), hazards and disasters cannot meaningfully be understood in isolation from societal structures, economies, and political decisions because what makes a hazard turn into a disaster is not simply the physical event itself but how people and societies are positioned to respond to, resist, or suffer from that event. 
In the book, environmental catastrophes are analysed in historical, political and economic contexts, showing that personal and corporate culture mediate whether people become more vulnerable or more resilient to hazard exposure. Structural inequality, governance decisions, economic development (or lack thereof), social organisation, and cultural practices shape how risk is distributed, who is exposed, and who suffers when hazards occur. 
Moreover, the authors argue that societies which strengthen their social institutions, build resilient infrastructures, and promote inclusive social and economic policies can mitigate the impacts of hazards and reduce the chance that those hazards become disasters—turning a potential calamity into a manageable crisis.
Thus, disasters are not simply “natural” events but socially constructed phenomena: their scale, intensity, and consequences depend heavily on human decisions — political, economic, cultural — and on pre-existing social vulnerabilities and capacities.
Disasters in society emerge from the entanglement of environmental and human systems because the severity and impact of a hazard are not determined solely by natural forces but by the social, economic, political, and cultural conditions in which people live. The book emphasises that floods, earthquakes, storms, or other environmental hazards become disasters only when they intersect with societal vulnerabilities such as poverty, unequal resource distribution, weak governance, and limited adaptive capacity. Understanding this complexity is essential for sustainable disaster risk reduction because effective mitigation requires addressing not just the physical hazard but also the structural factors that make certain populations more exposed and less resilient. By integrating knowledge of environmental processes with an analysis of social systems, policymakers and communities can design strategies that reduce risk, build resilience, and ensure that hazards do not escalate into catastrophic events.

A natural disaster is a sudden or gradual event caused by Earth's natural processes that results in significant harm to humans, property, or the environment. These events include, but are not limited to, earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, landslides, and droughts. Natural disasters are not merely physical phenomena; their impact is often amplified by human factors such as population density, urban planning, social inequality, and economic vulnerability. In essence, a natural disaster occurs at the intersection of natural hazards and societal exposure or vulnerability. The severity of a disaster is therefore determined not only by the intensity of the natural event itself but also by the preparedness, resilience, and adaptive capacity of the affected communities.
From a broader perspective, natural disasters carry social, economic, cultural, and political significance. They can disrupt livelihoods, economies, and governance systems, challenge cultural practices and community cohesion, and expose underlying structural weaknesses within societies. In this sense, a natural disaster is both a physical occurrence and a social phenomenon, reflecting the complex interplay between the environment and human society. Understanding natural disasters requires an interdisciplinary approach that integrates earth sciences with social sciences, policy studies, and cultural awareness, in order to mitigate risks, manage impacts, and enhance community resilience.

From an ideological perspective, a natural disaster can be interpreted through the lens of human responsibility and governance. Ideologies that emphasise human stewardship of the environment view disasters as a signal of imbalance between human activity and natural systems. Alternatively, certain religious or spiritual ideologies interpret natural disasters as a form of divine will or moral test, underscoring the limits of human control and the necessity for ethical conduct.

From a philosophical standpoint, natural disasters challenge fundamental assumptions about human vulnerability, causality, and the nature of fate. Philosophers may analyse disasters as reminders of human mortality, the unpredictability of life, and the ethical imperative to respond to suffering. They raise questions about human agency, the moral obligations to aid others, and the philosophical tension between determinism and free will in the face of uncontrollable events.
In the political sphere, natural disasters are both a test and an instrument of governance. Governments are evaluated based on their preparedness, response, and recovery efforts. Politically, disasters can expose weaknesses in public institutions, provoke debates on policy priorities, and become tools for political actors to gain or lose legitimacy. National recognition of disasters, allocation of emergency funds, and coordination between central and local authorities are inherently political acts.
From a social perspective, natural disasters profoundly affect community structures, social cohesion, and collective resilience. Displacement, loss of life, and destruction of infrastructure disrupt social networks, alter demographic patterns, and highlight inequalities. Social analysis examines how disasters affect vulnerable populations, amplify pre-existing social vulnerabilities, and necessitate collective action and solidarity.
In the cultural context, natural disasters are interpreted and remembered through local beliefs, narratives, and rituals. Cultural frameworks influence how communities understand causation, ritualise mourning, and mobilise mutual aid. Cultural interpretations also shape collective memory, influencing the identity of affected communities and the transmission of lessons across generations.
From an economic perspective, natural disasters have both immediate and long-term financial implications. Destruction of property, disruption of trade, loss of livelihoods, and pressure on public budgets challenge economic stability. Economic analysis focuses on direct damages, indirect costs, recovery investments, insurance mechanisms, and the resilience of economic systems. The capacity of a state or community to recover economically often determines the broader impact of a disaster.
The concept of a natural disaster transcends a simple environmental phenomenon. Ideologically, it reflects human-environment interaction and ethical responsibility; philosophically, it raises questions about mortality and agency; politically, it tests governance and institutional legitimacy; socially, it affects cohesion and vulnerability; culturally, it shapes narratives and collective memory; and economically, it challenges stability and recovery mechanisms. Understanding disasters through these multiple lenses enables a more comprehensive approach to prevention, preparedness, and response.

A natural disaster is an event triggered by the forces of nature — such as earthquakes, floods, or storms — that causes significant harm to people, property, and the environment. While it originates in nature, its impact is shaped by human factors like population density, planning, and social inequality. In other words, a natural disaster is where nature meets society: the stronger the hazard and the more vulnerable the community, the greater the disaster. Understanding this connection is essential to reduce risks, prepare communities, and building resilience.

The floods and landslides currently affecting Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra present an exceptional case that warrants elevation to the status of a national disaster. In the Indonesian legal framework, national disaster designation is not merely symbolic; it triggers the mobilisation of central government resources, activates emergency funding mechanisms, and ensures coordinated inter-provincial operations. The scale, complexity, and simultaneous nature of the disaster exceed the capacity of provincial authorities, creating a clear operational and moral rationale for national intervention.

The geographical breadth of the catastrophe is significant. Multiple provinces are affected simultaneously, with cascading consequences on infrastructure, public services, and regional economies. This cross-provincial impact challenges the capacity of any single province to manage the disaster effectively. Coordination across provincial borders requires central oversight to ensure that logistics, resource allocation, and operational priorities are harmonised across the affected regions.

The human toll is equally alarming. Official reports indicate over 400 deaths, with hundreds of individuals still missing. Many areas remain physically isolated due to destroyed bridges, blocked roads, and disrupted communication lines. The scale of casualties and the complexity of search and recovery operations necessitate specialised teams, including disaster victim identification units, forensic personnel, and medical specialists, which are best coordinated at the national level.

Critical infrastructure has suffered extensive damage. National roads, bridges, electricity networks, and communication towers have been disrupted, affecting not only local communities but also regional and national trade networks. These strategic assets are essential to economic stability, and their collapse requires the intervention of central ministries, national engineering corps, and coordinated planning that exceeds provincial capacities.

The displacement of tens of thousands of residents further underscores the need for national oversight. Populations scattered across multiple provinces, including vulnerable groups such as children, the elderly, and persons with disabilities, require standardised emergency shelters, medical care, and nutritional support. Provincial resources alone cannot sustain this level of humanitarian assistance over an extended period, while national intervention allows for equitable distribution and uniform standards.

Economic losses have been substantial. Agricultural lands, small businesses, and public facilities including schools and clinics have been destroyed. The cumulative economic impact surpasses the financial capacity of provincial governments to remediate. National designation facilitates coordinated reconstruction programmes, funding allocations, and economic recovery strategies that align with broader development objectives.

Provincial emergency response mechanisms are under significant strain. Local authorities are operating at full capacity, with personnel, equipment, and logistics stretched to their limits. National designation enables the deployment of additional resources, such as military support, specialised search and rescue teams, and emergency medical units, ensuring effective and safe operations across all affected areas.

Political and social considerations also justify national recognition. Widespread public concern, parliamentary scrutiny, media attention, and international visibility place pressure on the government to respond comprehensively. In a democratic context, acknowledging the disaster at the national level is both an operational necessity and a moral imperative, signalling the state’s commitment to protect and support its citizens.

The disaster highlights systemic weaknesses in local disaster management. Provincial administrations have demonstrated limitations in preparedness, early warning, and inter-agency coordination. National intervention allows for the standardisation of emergency protocols, reinforcement of technical capacity, and the alignment of local responses with central government strategies.

Legal criteria under Law No. 24 of 2007 provide a clear basis for national disaster designation, including the number of affected individuals, geographic spread, damage to infrastructure, and economic loss. The current situation in Sumatra meets and arguably exceeds these thresholds, providing both a sound legal and operational rationale for elevating the status of the disaster.

The international dimension further strengthens the case. Global media coverage and humanitarian concern create expectations for coordinated national and international response. Recognising the disaster as national facilitates cooperation with international agencies, donors, and NGOs, allowing relief and reconstruction efforts to adhere to global humanitarian standards.

Temporal factors are also critical. The prolonged rainfall, ongoing landslides, and risk of secondary disasters create a protracted emergency that exceeds standard provincial emergency management protocols. National recognition ensures sustained mobilisation of resources for immediate relief, medium-term recovery, and long-term disaster risk reduction.

Social cohesion and public trust are at stake. Rapid, coordinated national action can maintain public confidence in governmental institutions, prevent social unrest, and reinforce the legitimacy of public authorities. Conversely, delays or fragmented responses risk exacerbating social tension and undermining confidence in governance structures.

Comparative analysis with previous national disasters in Indonesia, such as the 2004 Aceh tsunami and the 2018 Lombok earthquake, illustrates that when the scale, complexity, and inter-provincial nature of a disaster surpass local capacities, formal national designation is both necessary and effective. Historical precedent supports a proactive approach in the current Sumatra situation.

Finally, from an ethical perspective, recognising the disaster nationally affirms the state’s responsibility to protect its citizens. It signals moral accountability, ensures equitable distribution of aid, and underscores a commitment to human dignity and resilience in the face of natural catastrophes.

In conclusion, the floods and landslides across Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra satisfy operational, legal, political, social, and ethical criteria for designation as a national disaster. The combination of multi-provincial impact, human casualties, infrastructural damage, economic loss, and overextended local capacities makes national recognition both justified and indispensable for a coordinated, effective, and ethically responsible response.

It would be simplistic to attribute the recent floods and landslides in Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra solely to “bad luck” or “heavy rains.” A broad and increasingly credible body of evidence suggests that while extreme meteorological phenomena—including unusually heavy rainfall, possibly connected to evolving global climate patterns—may have triggered the events, underlying human-driven ecological and land‑use dynamics significantly magnified their impact.

To begin with, the degradation of peatlands and forests across Sumatra has undermined the natural resilience of the land. Peatlands once acted like sponges, absorbing rainfall and releasing it slowly, thus regulating water flow during heavy downpours. However, reports by environmental watchdog groups show that a large portion of Indonesia’s peatlands—especially in Sumatra—are now degraded, drained, or compacted, dramatically reducing their water‑retention capacity. Once these natural water buffers are gone, rainfall that previously might have been harmless now rushes over land as uncontrolled runoff—feeding rivers quickly and contributing to floods.

Moreover, large‑scale conversion of forest land into monoculture plantations (such as oil palm or rubber) and other land uses has altered the land’s capacity to absorb rain. Soil compaction and the loss of undergrowth in plantation zones make the earth behave more like concrete when it rains: instead of soaking water in, the surface sheds water rapidly. In catchment areas of Sumatra, such land‑use changes have been statistically associated with increased flood frequency and severity.

It is also important to recognise that even when heavy rain hits, the condition and management of river basins (watersheds / DAS—daerah aliran sungai) matter greatly. According to a recent press release from the relevant forestry ministry, certain flood‑hit areas recorded rainfall above 150 mm/day, exceeding the capacity of rivers that had already been weakened in their flow capacity by siltation, loss of vegetation, and altered river morphology. In other words, the rivers were already impaired—so the downpour simply tipped them over the edge.

Critical voices from environmental organisations argue that this disaster should not be classified as “natural” alone, but rather as a structural ecological collapse. The scale of forest loss in the three provinces concerned—Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra—over recent years has been substantial, including deforestation, peat drainage, and conversion for plantations and other extractive uses. This long‑term environmental mismanagement created conditions where the land, once resilient, became dangerously vulnerable—a vulnerability that a single heavy rainstorm was enough to exploit brutally.

From a climate‑change perspective, many experts suggest that what used to be rare “once‑in‑a‑decade” rainfall events are becoming more frequent and more intense worldwide, including across Indonesia. In that context, degraded ecosystems become doubly dangerous: not only do they fail to buffer rainfall, but they also increase the likelihood that rainfall will lead to disaster rather than gentle absorption. Thus, the current floods reflect the convergence of anthropogenic environmental degradation and global climate stress, producing crises more severe than “normal” floods.

Given these interlinked causes—peatland degradation, deforestation and land‑use change, compromised watershed/rivers, and shifting climate patterns—the floods and landslides in Sumatra cannot be seen as mere “acts of nature.” They are manifestations of a systemic failure in environmental protection, land management, and long‑term planning. The disaster is therefore as much social and ecological as it is meteorological.

In conclusion, a fair and critical reading of data and expert assessments reveals that the tragedy in Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra is the product of layered and interdependent causes: extreme weather acted as a trigger, but decades of environmental mismanagement turned what might have been manageable rainfall into a catastrophic flood. This analysis implies that any genuine effort to prevent future disasters must address not only emergency response, but also root‑cause interventions: protecting peatlands, reversing deforestation, restoring watershed health, and adapting land‑use to ecological limits.

Over the past few decades, the forest cover across Sumatra — including in Aceh, North Sumatra and West Sumatra — has declined dramatically, with data showing that this loss has not been evenly distributed but concentrated in natural forest and watershed zones that formerly acted as ecological buffers. A study of forest cover changes on Sumatra Island documented deforestation rates of 0.27 million hectares per year in the early 2000s. More recently, provincial statistics confirm that deforestation remains active: between 2021 and 2022, Aceh, North Sumatra and West Sumatra collectively lost 16,782 hectares of forest cover, a rise over prior years.

In Aceh, long‑term data reveal a “two‑decades of deforestation” phenomenon that has significantly eroded the natural forest/landscape protection once provided by dense forest cover. In North Sumatra, a land-use/cover change study covering 1990–2015 shows forest land decreasing from 2,322,770.86 hectares in 1990 to a much smaller area in 2015—a clear sign of extensive deforestation. Similarly, in West Sumatra, forest‑cover change analysis confirms significant forest loss, especially in areas with gentler slopes that are more accessible for conversion into plantations or agriculture. 

What makes these forest losses critically relevant to the current 2025 floods and landslides is the fact that much of the lost forest lies in upstream catchment areas (watersheds, headwaters, slopes) that play a key hydrological role: they slow down, absorb, and regulate rainwater flow before it reaches rivers and lowlands. With deforestation and land‑use conversion—often for plantations or other development—the soil structure is degraded, roots that would anchor soil and absorb water are removed, and natural water absorption and retention capacity is lost. Consequently, even moderate or heavy rainfall can lead to rapid surface runoff, saturating rivers and triggering floods or landslides—a process many environmental researchers attribute to the amplified impact of human‑driven ecological degradation.

In fact, empirical analysis in Aceh found that flood events between 2011 and 2018 correlated significantly with areas of lower tree cover, higher prevalence of oil palm plantations, and increased precipitation—demonstrating that land‑use change and deforestation materially increased flood risk. The pattern suggests that deforestation is not an abstract environmental problem but directly modulates local hydrology, making floods more frequent and severe.

When the 2025 rainfall and weather disturbances—possibly intensified by broader climate anomalies—struck these regions, they encountered landscapes that had already lost their natural buffers. The result, tragically, was catastrophic: floodwaters rose rapidly, soil gave way on slopes, and rivers overflowed beyond their reduced carrying capacity. Many analysts now view this disaster not solely as a weather event but as a structural ecological crisis, where decades‑long forest loss and land‑use mismanagement transformed what could have been a manageable rainstorm into a full‑blown humanitarian catastrophe.

Economically, the consequences are immense. Recent estimates put the total losses for Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra—including damage to houses, infrastructure, agricultural land, and lost livelihoods—in the tens of trillions of rupiah. The irreversible loss of forest as ecological infrastructure compounds long‑term risk: rebuilding houses and roads does not restore the water regulation, slope stability, and soil health that forests once provided.

Thus, examining decades of deforestation data and overlaying them with current flood outcomes reveals a strong—indeed causal—link: areas with extensive forest loss are disproportionately affected by flooding and landslides. The 2025 disaster ought therefore to be seen not merely as a natural calamity but as the outcome of cumulative human decisions about land, economy, and environment. The tragedy underscores the urgent need for root‑cause interventions—forest protection, watershed restoration, land‑use planning aligned with ecological limits—rather than just reactive disaster relief.

The timing of the formal declaration of a national disaster is rarely determined solely by operational considerations; political factors often play a decisive role. In the context of the Sumatra floods and landslides, several political calculations may influence the government’s approach to declaration. First, national disaster recognition carries a significant political and symbolic weight. It signals the highest level of state involvement, and by extension, the government becomes directly accountable for the adequacy and speed of the response. In politically sensitive periods, such as approaching elections or during heightened public scrutiny, the government may delay formal recognition to manage perceptions, avoid criticism, or coordinate messaging with broader political strategies.

Second, budgetary and resource allocation considerations can influence the timing of national declaration. Declaring a disaster at the national level unlocks large sums of emergency funds, necessitates deployment of military and civil resources, and obligates central oversight for reconstruction and relief operations. Governments may wish to assess the full scale of the damage and the capacity of provincial authorities before mobilising these resources, to minimise political risk associated with perceived mismanagement or wastage of public funds.

Third, intergovernmental dynamics may play a role. Central and provincial governments must coordinate to ensure that responsibilities, operational chains, and bureaucratic hierarchies are aligned. In cases where political relationships between provincial and national authorities are complex or strained, the declaration may be delayed to allow negotiation over resource distribution, command authority, and reporting mechanisms. The national government may also wish to ensure that provincial administrations demonstrate initial competence, to maintain legitimacy and avoid perceptions of central overreach.

Fourth, media and public opinion management is a critical consideration. The government may seek to synchronise national disaster declaration with strategic communication campaigns to frame the narrative, highlight successes in relief efforts, or emphasise government responsiveness. Premature declaration, without sufficient preparation or logistical readiness, could expose weaknesses and invite domestic or international criticism, whereas careful timing allows authorities to control the political optics more effectively.

Fifth, the declaration may be influenced by diplomatic or international considerations. A national disaster designation opens the door for international assistance, NGO engagement, and foreign media coverage. Governments may therefore calibrate timing to coincide with diplomatic opportunities, funding mechanisms, or to avoid unwanted scrutiny, balancing the urgency of humanitarian needs with perceived national interest.

Finally, historical precedent and bureaucratic inertia can affect timing. National disaster declaration is governed by formal legal procedures and inter-agency consultations, which may take days or weeks, particularly when multiple provinces are involved. Delays are often not purely political but reflect the complex interplay between legal requirements, operational assessments, and political calculations. Nevertheless, the cumulative effect is that political factors—perceptions of accountability, electoral timing, intergovernmental relations, media optics, and international diplomacy—frequently influence when and how national recognition is formally granted.

In sum, while the operational and humanitarian rationale for national disaster recognition may be clear, the formal timing of declaration is a political decision as much as a bureaucratic or technical one. Governments balance the urgency of response with considerations of accountability, resource management, public perception, and diplomatic positioning, which can result in deliberate pauses or strategic timing before issuing formal recognition.

The decision to delay or strategically time the declaration of a national disaster carries significant political risks that extend beyond immediate operational considerations. First, public perception is highly sensitive to the responsiveness of government institutions. Any perceived delay in recognition, especially in the context of widespread suffering and media coverage, may erode public confidence and generate criticism from civil society, opposition parties, and even international observers. In the digital era, social media amplifies these perceptions rapidly, potentially influencing public sentiment and political narratives.

Second, the government’s handling of disaster recognition can have electoral implications. In regions where the disaster has had a pronounced impact, citizens may associate government responsiveness with political legitimacy and competence. Delays or inconsistencies in recognition may be interpreted as negligence or indifference, which can affect voter behaviour, approval ratings, and regional political dynamics. Consequently, the timing of declaration becomes a strategic consideration, balancing operational readiness with political optics.

Third, inconsistent messaging between central and provincial authorities can exacerbate public uncertainty. Conflicting statements regarding the scale of the disaster, available resources, or the adequacy of relief efforts may fuel political criticism and social unrest. National declaration, when carefully timed, provides a unified platform for communication, allowing authorities to present a coherent narrative and reassure the public that the state is in control.

Fourth, international scrutiny adds another layer of complexity. Global media coverage, humanitarian organisations, and foreign governments monitor the response to natural disasters. Delays in national recognition may lead to perceptions of poor governance or lack of commitment to human security, affecting Indonesia’s international reputation and potentially influencing foreign aid, investment, and diplomatic relations. Conversely, well-timed national recognition can enhance the country’s standing as a competent and responsive state.

Fifth, long-term public trust is closely linked to the effectiveness of initial responses. Rapid national recognition, combined with visible deployment of resources and transparent reporting, reinforces the credibility of state institutions. Conversely, protracted delays or perceived politicisation of disaster management may cultivate cynicism, distrust, and social tension, weakening the social contract between citizens and the state. Over time, this erosion of trust can impact compliance with future government directives, including disaster preparedness, public health measures, and policy implementation.

Finally, political risk management requires balancing urgency with credibility. While immediate recognition demonstrates responsiveness, premature declaration without logistical preparedness risks exposing operational weaknesses. Strategic timing aims to optimise both public perception and effective resource mobilisation, but miscalculations can have lasting political costs. In essence, the politics of disaster declaration is inseparable from governance legitimacy, public trust, and national reputation, highlighting the importance of carefully calibrated decision-making.

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