Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

The Sebangau railway (Central Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo)

A former logging railway transports a member of the Borneo Nature Foundation (BNF) through the thick smoke haze to reach the Sebangau forest in Central Kalimantan, Indonesia.
Indonesia’s peatlands, where most orangutans live, frequently experience devastating forest and land fires during El Niño induced droughts. In 2015, nearly 125,000 fire hotspots were detected in the peatlands of Sumatra, Borneo and the Indonesian part of Papua. The impacts of these recurrent peat-fires range from local to global scale. Large areas of forest burn down, which leads to biodiversity loss, release of huge amounts of greenhouse gas emissions to the atmosphere, and toxic smoke haze that causes respiratory diseases and premature death, and disrupts local as well as regional economies.
In the 1990s, this part of the Sebangau tropical peat-swamp forest was a timber concession. The 12km logging railway enabled the timber company to extract wood from this waterlogged forest. People also dug canals to extract logs during times of high-water table. The logging and construction of canals changed the hydrology of the peat-swamp forest drastically. Having lost its natural sponge effect, the peat-swamp forest gets now heavily flooded during the rainy season and becomes extremely vulnerable to fires during the dry-season. Today, Sebangau is the largest National Park in Kalimantan. It is home to the biggest continuous protected population of Bornean orangutans (with 6,000 individuals). The former logging camp has been converted into a permanent research facility. Nowadays, the logging railway carries field staff, conservationists, researchers and supplies, facilitating new forms of human and more-than-human collaboration.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

Animal repelling device (West Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo)

This device was created by indigenous Dayak villagers to keep orangutans and other animals away from a grove of fruit trees. A natural trickle of water is guided through one bamboo stalk into another, which tips over when full and hits a third bamboo stalk as it tilts back, resulting in a clacking noise. Human-orangutan conflict is not uncommon in rural Borneo, especially during the fruiting season. Even though many villagers express a liking for orangutans, when competing for valuable, seasonal durian fruit they feel conflicted between their fondness for orangutans and their fondness for durian. Successful human-orangutan coexistence therefore often requires humans and orangutans to remain out of each other’s sight, which this device aims to achieve through the medium of loud sounds.

Read more about this more-than-human landscape.

Repelling animals.

‘Woooe-hoooe’, yells Isak, playfully announcing his presence to unseen others. Human voices respond from multiple directions, mixing with the sounds of water, insects, and birds. We cross a stream and climb the wooded hills behind the village. Isak calls out the names of fruit trees, planted when this forest was last ‘opened’ for rice cultivation. ‘When there is too much ripe fruit, we let it rot, as fertiliser, because we’re unable to sell’. The market is too distant.

After 30 minutes we reach what Isak calls ‘kampung durian’ (durian village). It is a sprawling settlement. A hut near each durian tree, in which families wait for the ripe fruit to come crashing down one at a time. Women and children cleave open the spiky shells and place the soft, creamy flesh in plastic buckets, where it is left to ferment with some salt. The result, tempoyak (fermented durian eaten as an accompaniment to rice), will keep the whole year.

After someone shows me a durian that has been half eaten by an orangutan, Isak takes me up the next hill. In a clearing stands a tall durian tree that he claims his family has tended (menjaga) for 7 generations (Isak being of the 4th generation). Last year it gave between 400 and 500 durian, he says, resulting in over 50 litres of tempoyak.

This year, an orangutan has been feasting in this tree, leaving much less fruit for Isak. He points out several orangutan nests. ‘The orangutan usually only comes when we are not here, for example before the fruit is ripe. It does not harm us, it is afraid of us,’ Isak explains. He continues, smiling: ‘Orangutans and humans are connected [menyambung]. We both eat durian. They eat up there, and we eat down here’.

Nevertheless, he needs more durian for his 7 children, all of them living outside the village and relying on their parents for tempoyak. That is why he has cut down the surrounding trees. Next year, there will be no way for an orangutan to reach the tall branches of the durian tree.

Isak’s act of cutting down trees typifies the nature of human-orangutan co-existence in this more-than-human landscape. In contrast to those tourists and scientists who seek direct observation of wild orangutans, most villagers and orangutans in this area prefer to remain mutually invisible. They interact mostly through traces in the landscape, which mediate their relations. When an orangutan left bite marks in durian fruit and nest structures in tree branches, Isak responded by creating a gap in the forest canopy to prevent its return.

As we descend along the other side of the hill, we pass the spot where this photograph was taken. The animal repelling device makes visible another important medium of invisible co-presence: sound. By rearranging natural elements of the landscape—streaming water and bamboo—people leave an auditory trace in the landscape, a repetitive thwack to scare away animals, such as hungry orangutans.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

Logging truck used by conservationists (Borneo)

A logging truck transports conservationists to the forest. Making conservation work on the ground often requires flexibility and strategic pragmatism, and sometimes leads to unexpected forms of collaboration between actors from seemingly opposing industries (in this case, logging and conservation).

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

Blocked path in a contested space (Borneo)

A deliberately felled tree blocks the path to a protected area established on an indigenous village’s customary land. The creation of this conservation space—which aimed to protect orangutans and other endangered species—gave rise to land disputes, disrupted local logging, hunting and mining activities and generated tensions and disagreements within the community. More than an expression of protest, the person felled the tree with the ‘hope to be heard, raise the issue of unresolved boundaries, and meet those who can explain exactly where the boundary is’. As this quote suggests, rural Bornean communities do not resist conservation per se; however, the success of such schemes very much depends on how conservation actors approach sensitive issues such as land tenure, and succeed in building relationship of care, acknowledgement, and reciprocity.

Read the story behind the felled tree.

Illegal logging.

The felling was not a singular incident. The year before, a camera trap had recorded a female orangutan with her infant and teenager. Not long after, the camera display showed the trees in the same area being felled. ‘We had the destruction right in front of us,’ a conservationist said with sadness. Using heavy machinery from a local sawmill, villagers had cut down a patch of forest that contained valuable hardwood. Some conservationists’ main concern was that the ‘illegal logging’, as they framed it, had destroyed important orangutan habitat. However, for these villagers, ‘working logs’ (mambatang), as they are locally known, enabled them to make a living in the face of precarious livelihood pressures by using their own customary forest resources. For them, the continued right to log was as much a moral as an economic concern.

This episode points to the tensions that can arise between customary ways of engaging with the environment and framing access to and ownership over resources on the one hand, and state regulations that define these understandings and the activities as illegal on the other. While local people based their territorial claims on customary law (adat), the management of the site drew on state documents to guide its work. This created a complex, fraught space in which the conservation project had to operate.

Due to the existence of such parallel legal systems and poor land-use planning in Borneo, territorial disputes like these frequently arise. Before the conservation organisation arrived, the area had been designated for conservation purposes without in-depth investigation on the ground. Officials had demarcated the location of the site using a map in a remote government office. Feeling dispossessed of their land, some villagers began to challenge the protected area and its boundaries. Access to the forest is vital for local livelihoods and land is the most valuable asset villagers have. But what seemed to enrage these villagers even more was the sense they had not been sufficiently involved in and benefitted from the creation of the site. While a few inhabitants were hired as staff, many villagers bemoaned what they saw as the scheme’s top-down approach and lack of information, opportunities for participation, and benefits to the community at large. The case at hand shows that in order to make conservation work on the ground, it is necessary to address the multiple, complex layers in which it takes place. Often, it is not enough to provide jobs or run short-term programmes to improve local livelihoods. To engender positive changes and make conservation work locally, the underlying drivers of structural poverty, social injustice and uneven distribution of wealth and resources need to be addressed. Moreover, the villagers’ concerns show that for them, the creation of long-lasting relationships of mutual acknowledgement, trust and care, and reciprocity are essential if they are to engage with conservation measures. This story reveals how conservationists everywhere need to find ways of engaging in long-term commitments, providing adequate returns, and showing a heightened sensibility to customary rights and norms (adat).

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

A logging path that has been repurposed as a firebreak (Borneo)

Wood has long been, and still is, an important asset in Borneo. These planks were put down to facilitate the hauling of illegally harvested timber by wheelbarrow. But like logging infrastructure elsewhere, this path serves several other users. People heading to the river for fish often use the planks for quick transport by motorbike over the bogs. Now the path has also been co-opted by conservationists in an effort to mitigate wildfires. Vegetation on the sides of the path has been slashed and cleared to reduce the likelihood of fire crossing over the path which, at the same time, facilitates the movement of patrol teams and their equipment.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

Documenting an illegal logging operation (Borneo)

A patrol team documents an illegal logging operation in a village forest. Habitat protection and community empowerment are both crucial parts of orangutan conservation. Conservationists often seek to combine both through Indonesia’s social forestry program, which lets communities sustainably manage state forest. To succeed, such ‘village forests’ require collaborations between many different parties. In this image, the community’s forest management team joined forces with staff from a conservation NGO, a national park ranger, and an official from the forestry service. Photographs and GPS tracks, as well as written documentation, form evidence that forest protection is actively happening. Documents such as these have been instrumental in enabling this village forest to get a new funding agreement. However, recent instances of forest clearing point to the continuing challenges facing village forest projects, particularly those relating to lack of information, involvement or agreement among other villagers.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

first link image

Tree seedlings being carried to a reforestation site in Kinabatangan (Sabah, Malaysian Borneo).

A member of conservation NGO HUTAN’s reforestation team carrying native tree seedlings to a replanting site—formerly an oil palm-growing area—in the Lower Kinabatangan area, Sabah, Malaysian Borneo. HUTAN works with local communities to protect wildlife and manage human-wildlife interactions in the Kinabatangan—a heavily degraded and fragmented river basin that is also home to 800-1000 orangutans. The reforestation programme aims to create forest linkages in heavily anthropogenic (human-modified) landscapes to increase food sources and allow wildlife to move freely between forest patches and larger forest areas. Planting seedlings is only the first step of a long, demanding process of more-than-human care and collaboration. Planting sites must first be manually tended and regularly weeded by the team to promote the survival of seedlings. As more species enter and use the area, they effectively become nonhuman collaborators that help to introduce, disseminate and fertilise seeds and aid the establishment of the forest corridor.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

first link image

Forest corridor, Kinabatangan (Sabah, Malaysian Borneo)

Aerial footage of a forest corridor running through an oil palm plantation in Sabah, Malaysian Borneo. Sabah’s rainforests have been extensively degraded and fragmented by oil palm plantations and industrial logging. These developments threaten the survival of orangutans, which have historically lived in large, unbroken areas of rainforest. However, recent research carried out in this area over two decades suggests that orangutans are more resilient and adaptable than previously thought, and are able to survive—even reproduce—in forest patches in anthropogenic (human-modified) landscapes. Forest corridors are strips of wooded jungle that connect these forest patches and larger forest areas. They allow orangutans and many other species to move across plantation and other anthropogenic landscapes, boosting their overall populations’ chances of survival. In this way, forest corridors facilitate various kinds of collaboration between nonhuman entities (notably plants and animals), while also requiring ongoing collaboration between two seemingly opposed sectors: corporations and conservationists.

Go back to view gallery

Collaboration and Contestation

An oil palm tree is felled as part of a forest restoration project, Cinta Raja Restoration Site (Sumatra, Indonesia)

Forest restoration projects aim to regenerate degraded or fragmented forests, restoring their ability to sustain a variety of life and ecological processes. Here, a member of the Orangutan Information Centre’s (OIC) forest restoration team cuts down illegally planted oil palms in the Cinta Raja Restoration Site within the Gunung Leuser National Park (GLNP), home to critically endangered Sumatran Orangutans. Clearing oil palms is a prelude to replanting the land with native trees that, it is hoped, will eventually restore forest cover and attract a variety of rainforest species, including orangutans, back to the area. Forest restoration could thus be described as a means of (re)creating multispecies collaborations in places where they had previously been destroyed. Fittingly, this image shows such work being carried out with a chainsaw—a tool popularly associated with deforestation and human-nature conflict, but that has been repurposed to redress such earlier damage. Since 2008, OIC has replanted over 2000 hectares of forest with around 2.4 million seedlings and 97 indigenous tree species.

Site by Platform Twenty Ltd.