The authors are Humanities Studies graduates currently working in the intersection of research and stakeholder engagement. This article reflects the authors’ own analysis and views and does not necessarily represent those of The Reformist.

In Indonesia, using data to make policy decisions related to the environment is required by law. Article 16 of Law No. 2/1982 states, “every development plan likely to have significant impacts on the environment must be supported by an analysis of its environmental impact.”
Technological advancement has made this requirement, in theory, easier to fulfill. In forestry, for example, remote sensing, satellite mapping, and digital land registries have significantly increased the precision with which forest cover can be measured. However, improved technology hasn’t necessarily improved data use, especially in forestry.
Research conducted in 1991 by ORSTOM-IRD revealed significant inconsistencies in Indonesia’s official forest data. In 1989, the Forestry Ministry reported over 143 million hectares of forest. Yet FAO’s 1990 data reported 108 million hectares, with a 1.2 percent annual deforestation rate. The stark discrepancy was highly questionable, implying a loss of 35 million hectares within a single year and pointing to serious inaccuracies in national forest data reporting. Yet the availability of better, more sophisticated tools have not translated to better forest governance.
More than two decades later, in 2015, the Center for Indonesian Policy Studies (CIPS) reported that approximately 61 percent of forest land was inaccurately classified, failing to reflect the ecosystems that actually exist on the ground.
These inconsistencies were not isolated errors, but an early indicator of systemic weaknesses in our forest classification and reporting. It raises critical questions about how forest data is produced, validated, and ultimately used in policymaking. In this article, we inquire into the reasons behind the failure of our forest data governance.
Are we unequipped, or purposely creating loopholes?
A central obstacle to effective forest governance lies in the persistent deficiency of reliable data and planning tools at the local level. Recurring errors and distortions in forest management are due to the lack of precise and compatible maps. In many cases, spatial data produced by different institutions are inconsistent or incompatible, making it extremely difficult to establish a shared understanding of how much forest actually remains and where it is located. This problem is exacerbated by a shortage of trained field staff capable of physically demarcating and enforcing the boundaries of regulated land on the ground.
It has become increasingly difficult to find official data sets that agree on the true extent of forested land. These discrepancies are particularly visible at the subnational level. In South Sumatra, for example, local forestry authorities have estimated that more than 40 percent of the land under their care is no longer forested, despite still being officially classified as such.
Similarly, while the Forestry Ministry reported more than 5.1 million hectares of forest in the region, the Regional Physical Planning Project for Transmigration maps from the 1980s indicated that only about 3.5 million hectares of primary forest remained. These discrepancies reveal not only technical inconsistencies but also structural and technical failures in how forest status is defined and updated over time.
We’ve then become compelled to interrogate a systemic feature that benefits vested interests inside: when ministries, local governments, and the National Land Agency (‘BPN’) cannot agree on what constitutes a forest, this creates what we call a “Gray Zone of Legality.” Within this zone, large corporations and investors can secure forestry or plantation permits in areas where forest status is unclear, effectively expanding land use rights without triggering strong regulatory enforcement.
In regard to this, Transparency International recently reported that forest cover in key watersheds across Sumatra has declined sharply, with degraded river basins losing their ecological buffering capacity, yet formal planning systems continue to lag what satellite data reveal. Trend Asia estimated that about 3.68 million hectares of forest across Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra, for example, were cleared between 2014 and 2024, much of it for plantations and mining activity.
Why decades of deforestation data failed to warn us
Despite decades of scientific warnings, deforestation persists in Indonesia. The reason behind it might be best explained by the structural priorities embedded in Indonesian policymaking.
From the early 1980s, short-term economic stabilization repeatedly outweighed long-term environmental sustainability. A notable instance is what happened between 1980 and 1988: in response to severe budget constraints following the second global oil crisis, the government accelerated transmigration and agricultural expansion as instruments of economic recovery. This policy was made to ensure forests can produce long-term sustainable yields. But enforcement was lax.
Here, two interrelated factors reinforce one another. On the ground, logging companies routinely exceed extraction limits, while farmers move into logged and even protected areas. Forest land is then opened rapidly for cultivation, often without adequate irrigation or spatial planning, producing fragmented plots and uneven productivity.
At the same time, this laxity is enabled by a political–economic incentive structure: local governments have become increasingly dependent on revenue from private plantations. This dependence creates strong pressure to tolerate over-logging and informal settlement, as immediate fiscal returns are prioritized over ecological preservation.
Incentives to delay: The politics behind bad data governance
The attitudes of Indonesian decision-makers toward economic “development” at that time constitute a central driver of deforestation. However, one should acknowledge that these attitudes are deeply rooted in colonial experience and reflect a Western understanding of development: prioritizing economic growth over environmental and social considerations.
Under Suharto’s New Order regime, many senior civil servants were trained in the United States. Consequently, Western development paradigms largely shaped state policies. As argued by William Leiss, Western environmental values tend to define nature primarily in relation to the demands of continuous economic growth, measured through rising Gross National Product, granting legitimacy to policies that promote industrialization, often regardless of their political, social, or ecological consequences.
This growth-oriented logic was institutionalized in our forest governance. Marc Pain demonstrates how forest reserves and protected agricultural zones were repeatedly reclassified to serve short-term economic interests. Such administrative changes were often omitted from official maps, leaving enforcement agencies unaware of shifting legal boundaries and eroding accountability. Official responses to environmental disasters further illustrate the perception of forests as expendable assets.
Following the 1983 fires in East Kalimantan, the Forestry Ministry described the burned areas as “conversion forest,” framing the disaster as a cost-free method of land clearing. This reveals a utilitarian understanding of nature, in which forests are valued primarily for their potential contribution to industrial and agricultural expansion rather than for their ecological or social functions.
Now, it is comprehensible that these attitudes are reinforced by political and economic structures that disproportionately benefit powerful actors.
Gov’t should stop ignoring data and start using it to inform policies
Last year, we watched as floods devastated Aceh and Sumatra. These were not merely the result of unusual weather patterns. While heavy rainfall associated with tropical storms and cyclonic interaction certainly played a role, the disaster’s magnitude was amplified by decades of environmental degradation. Data from government bodies show significant net forest loss in these provinces, and independent monitoring finds that Sumatra’s watersheds have been severely degraded due to commercial land conversion.
Viral videos showed logs, presumably remnants of upstream land clearing, being swept through towns, a visual proof of extensive deforestation that weakened natural water retention and slope stability. Local and international environmental groups have explicitly linked years of deforestation and weak enforcement of environmental regulations to the severity of the floods.
As early as 1989, Marc Pain observed that policies often changed on paper but not in practice. He said that research has long provided accurate data on how population movement, spontaneous settlement, and regional development interact.
But research and data mean nothing if there is no political will that could translate them into enforceable policy, supported by adequate resources and institutional coordination. Policy must not remain stagnant while social and environmental pressures evolve. Rows between the government and independent groups over the exact figures of deforestation also risk shrinking the civic space, which can lead to governance problems beyond the environmental management sector.
The state already possesses the authority to regulate land use, enforce boundaries, and act against violations. Thus, problems that recur due to a lack of prevention despite available data and warnings are not natural disasters, but governance failures. Their inaction reflects choice, not incapacity.
Now, the question is no longer what should be done, but whether the state is willing to listen before the next disaster forces it to.



