In Jakarta, when the waters rose,streets became rivers, buses became boats.The Termul chorus sang without pause:“Blame Anies, of course, who else?”In Sumatra, the floods arrive,fields drowned, bridges swept away.Yet the Termul refrain remains unchanged:"Anies is guilty, even from afar.”Rain falls from the heavens,logic falls from the Termul.Floods upon the land, floods upon the mind,all currents lead to one name: "Abah" Anies Baswedan.And the people chuckle, half in sorrow,watching storms turn into satire.For the Termul creed is simple:if water flows, Anies must have opened the tap.In short, Anies is to blame!Raindrops become evidence, mud becomes proof,logic swept away, yet the verdict stays the same.And then appears the Majikan Termul,riding his trail bike through the flood.But the villagers, busy with broken homes,offer no applause, no cheer, only silence.Thus the nation’s drama is complete:floods upon the land, floods upon the mind.The Termul forever point to Abah,while their Majikan is quietly ignored in the tide.There is an interesting story from West Java. It was a rather curious spectacle: the Governor of West Java, gallantly flying to Aceh with cameras in tow, promising to build houses for flood victims — while back home, his own constituents were wading through knee‑deep water in Bandung. One might call it statesmanship, others might call it a travelling theatre troupe. The optics were impeccable: handshakes, solemn nods, and the obligatory drone shots. Yet the irony was dripping thicker than the monsoon rains — a leader pledging bricks abroad while his own walls were crumbling. It’s the sort of political choreography that would make even Shakespeare sigh: ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the governors merely players.’The Governor did not travel alone; he was flanked by a loyal battalion of cameramen and digital heralds. Every handshake, every solemn gaze was captured from three angles, edited with cinematic flair, and promptly uploaded for the court of public opinion. The buzzers, ever‑faithful, chorused online: ‘A visionary leader!’ — as if hashtags could hold back the floodwaters in Bandung. It resembled less a humanitarian mission and more a Netflix pilot: ‘Governor Abroad: Season One.’ The irony, of course, was that while the cameras rolled in Aceh, the waters rolled into West Java. A performance polished for the timeline, yet the home stage was drowning off‑screen."Mikael Stenmark’s Environmental Ethics and Policy Making (2016, Routledge) is a thoughtful attempt to bridge the widening gap between moral philosophy and the real-world decisions that shape our treatment of the planet. Stenmark argues that environmental ethics cannot remain confined to abstract debates about intrinsic value, moral standing, or human obligations; instead, philosophy must actively inform the policies that govern land use, energy, conservation, and technological development. He presents environmental ethics as a discipline that is not only descriptive or evaluative, but also action-guiding, insisting that ethical reflection must influence the structures through which societies make ecological choices.
The book challenges the common assumption that policy-making is simply a matter of scientific data and political negotiation. Stenmark shows that even the most technical environmental decisions are always underpinned by ethical assumptions about what matters, who counts, and what future we ought to protect. He proposes a model in which ethics, science, and politics are not rivals but partners, each carrying a distinct responsibility in crafting sustainable and just solutions. By doing so, he dismantles the myth of value-neutral policy and exposes how ethical blind spots often lead to ecological harm.
Stenmark also examines the tension between anthropocentric and non-anthropocentric perspectives, arguing that policymakers must decide whether the environment is valuable only insofar as it serves human interests or whether nature possesses value in its own right. Through this debate, he illustrates how ethical frameworks shape outcomes: an economy-centred worldview will produce radically different policies compared to one grounded in ecological integrity or intergenerational justice. Stenmark encourages readers to embrace ethical pluralism, acknowledging that multiple values—ecological, cultural, economic, and spiritual—can coexist in the public arena without collapsing into relativism.
The work maintains that environmental ethics must not become a detached academic discipline, for the moral urgency of ecological crises demands engagement with concrete decision-making. Stenmark’s work therefore provides both a philosophical foundation and a pragmatic roadmap, urging societies to adopt policies that reflect not only what is technically feasible but what is morally defensible. In doing so, he positions environmental ethics as an indispensable compass for navigating the intertwined challenges of climate change, biodiversity loss, and sustainable development.
Stenmark identifies several essential considerations that should guide policymakers when dealing with ecological issues, though he does not present them in a simplistic checklist. Instead, he weaves these concerns into a philosophical narrative that shows how environmental decisions are always grounded in deeper ethical assumptions. He emphasises that policymakers must recognise the moral dimensions of environmental problems, because scientific data alone can never determine what ought to be done. According to Stenmark, a responsible policymaker must first clarify the values at stake, understand whose interests are being protected or sacrificed, and examine the long-term consequences of their choices for both human communities and the natural world.
The book also highlights the importance of determining the moral status of nature, since policies will differ greatly depending on whether the environment is treated merely as a resource for human use or as something that possesses intrinsic value. Stenmark shows that policymakers must decide whether to adopt an anthropocentric, biocentric, or ecocentric framework, because each leads to very different interpretations of sustainability and justice. He further insists that decision-makers must be transparent about the ethical principles they rely on, rather than pretending that their policies emerge from value-neutral science or technocratic logic.
Another crucial element Stenmark stresses is the interaction between ethics, science, and politics. Policymakers must listen to scientific expertise without reducing decisions to technical calculations, and they must weigh political realities without surrendering moral responsibility. Effective environmental policy therefore requires a balance between empirical knowledge, ethical reasoning, social priorities, and long-term ecological limits. Stenmark argues that ignoring any of these dimensions leads to weak or unjust outcomes, often favouring short-term economic interests at the expense of ecological integrity and future generations.
The book argues that ethical reflection is not optional but foundational for responsible environmental governance. Policymakers must cultivate moral imagination, consider the rights and vulnerabilities of non-human entities, acknowledge intergenerational duties, and remain aware of how cultural and spiritual values shape public attitudes toward nature. For Stenmark, good environmental policy emerges when decision-makers understand that they are not merely managing resources, but making moral choices that define the relationship between humanity and the planet.
Stenmark implicitly highlights several things that policymakers must avoid when dealing with environmental issues. He does not present them as a negative checklist, but his arguments consistently warn against certain habits of thought and governance that undermine ethical and sustainable decision-making. One of the most serious dangers he identifies is the illusion of value-neutral policy. Stenmark argues that policymakers must avoid pretending that their decisions arise purely from science or technical expertise, because such a stance hides the fact that every environmental choice is shaped by ethical assumptions. When decision-makers deny the moral basis of their actions, they often end up reproducing harmful biases, typically favouring economic or political short-termism at the expense of ecological well-being.Another pitfall he cautions against is the reduction of environmental problems to purely human interests. According to Stenmark, policies that ignore the intrinsic value of non-human beings or the integrity of ecosystems inevitably fail to address the deeper moral stakes of environmental degradation. Policymakers must therefore avoid an unreflective anthropocentrism that treats nature solely as an instrument for human use, because such an attitude leads to policies that are short-sighted, extractive, and ultimately self-destructive. Stenmark argues that ignoring the moral status of nature blinds societies to the true costs of their choices.
He also warns against the dangers of allowing politics to override ethics. Policymakers must avoid treating environmental decisions as mere bargaining chips in partisan conflicts or as opportunities for political advantage. When ethical reasoning is subordinated to tactical considerations, environmental policy becomes reactive, fragmented, and unable to tackle long-term challenges such as climate change or biodiversity loss. Stenmark insists that moral responsibility must not be sacrificed to political convenience, because doing so creates systemic injustices—both for vulnerable human communities and for the natural world.
Stenmark highlights the danger of failing to recognise the needs of future generations. Policymakers must avoid narrow presentism—the mindset that prioritises immediate benefits while ignoring long-term consequences. This neglect is particularly disastrous in environmental governance, where harm often accumulates slowly but irreversibly. For Stenmark, an ethically responsible policymaker must resist the temptation of short-term gains and instead cultivate a sense of intergenerational duty, ecological humility, and moral foresight. In essence, the book warns that environmental policy fails when decision-makers avoid confronting the ethical dimensions of their power.
If one were to read Mikael Stenmark’s Environmental Ethics and Policy Making while sitting in an Indonesian roadside café, the book would suddenly feel less like academic philosophy and more like a subtle critique of the theatrical, endlessly improvisational world of Indonesian governance. His warnings about what policymakers must avoid become almost prophetic—especially when translated into the cheerful chaos of politics, where every environmental issue can be massaged, negotiated, or rebranded with a catchy slogan and a drone shot.
Stenmark insists that policymakers must never claim neutrality. In the Indonesian political universe, however, neutrality often means loudly proclaiming, “We merely followed scientific recommendations.” At the same time, the real science is conducted in the lobby, where a well-connected investor clears his throat politely and asks, “So, can we proceed, Pak?”What follows is the magical transformation of a conservation programme into a “sustainable development corridor” whose sustainability exists mostly in PowerPoint slides.Stenmark warns against excessive anthropocentrism. In Indonesia, anthropocentrism is practically a national sport. Nature is not a living system but a filming location for ministries, agencies, and regional governments desperate for high-angle drone shots and inspirational background music.If rivers narrow dramatically: “Revitalisation!”If mountains are carved open: “Geo-tourism potential!”If forests vanish: “Digital documentation still exists from last year’s awareness campaign.”Stenmark fears environmental decisions being used as bargaining chips.Here, they often become bargaining chips, bargaining tables, and the entire bargaining room.Riverbank regulations can shift overnight during election season.Mining permits can appear faster than one can order fried noodles. Environmental bills may enter parliamentary debates only to be overshadowed by “more urgent priorities” that, quite coincidentally, benefit key patrons. When the public asks questions, the standard response is: “Relax, that’s misinformation. Don’t fall for negative narratives.”
Stenmark is adamant that policymakers must avoid presentism. Indonesian governance, however, frequently treats the future as a mildly irritating rumour. As long as the ribbon-cutting ceremony looks good on television, and the social media team can produce an inspirational caption, long-term ecological devastation can simply be handed over to the next administration—after all, unborn generations don’t participate in the current election cycle, so their complaints can be safely postponed.
Stenmark urges recognition of nature’s intrinsic value. But in local political logic, a river turning brown is not a sign of suffering; it is an “interdepartmental coordination challenge.”A collapsing mountainside is not ecological revenge; it is “an unforeseen natural event.”Air pollution thick enough to resemble a bad Instagram filter is “an opportunity for citizens to explore fashionable mask designs.”Stenmark teaches that policymakers must avoid moral blindness, conflict of interest, short-termism, and political opportunism. Indonesian politics teaches that policymakers must avoid only one thing: being criticised too openly for any of the above.
Amid all this improvisation, the task facing President Prabowo becomes almost Sisyphean. The absurd mix of short-term political priorities, conflicting interests, and public expectations creates a context where every environmental decision is a minefield. Even the most well-intentioned policies risk being overshadowed by lobbying, bureaucracy, or sudden public controversies. In such circumstances, the President must navigate not only the technical and ethical aspects of policy, but also the theatrical, often unpredictable nature of Indonesian politics itself—making his role uniquely challenging in ways Stenmark could only illustrate indirectly through satire.Basically, if Stenmark were observing Indonesia, he might say: “Bro, don’t pretend environmental policy is neutral. Every decision carries hidden moral values behind banners, drone shots, and press releases.” In the Nusantara context, this means policymakers cannot just claim, “It’s pure science, sir!” while mining projects keep running or forests vanish without oversight. Nature, according to Stenmark, is not merely an Instagram-worthy backdrop for ministry content—it also has moral “rights” that must be acknowledged.
He would also scold if policy is made just for “political tactics” or “this week’s PR campaign.” Imagine crucial decisions about rivers, forests, or endangered species being delayed because of local elections, parliamentary drama, or TikTok influencer trends. Stenmark clearly warns: if that happens, long-term morality and responsibility disappear—and future generations are left shaking their heads at a planet that’s increasingly damaged.
His satirical message for Indonesia might sound like: “If you really want to be an ethical environmental policymaker, first get real. Stop the political theatre that masks moral values, acknowledge the ethics you hold, and don’t just focus on Instagrammable appearances.” In simpler words: don’t just take selfies in the forest while ignoring the forest itself.
In short, the book is a call for morally conscious, transparent, and normatively aware governance. In Indonesia, that means: don’t just show off with drone shots and press conferences—actually think about the long-term impact on people, forests, rivers, and generations not yet born.
Friday, December 5, 2025
Environmental Ethics: Rethinking Our Place in a Burning World (4)
