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Indonesia, Bali

What Paradise Cost Us

A local NGO worker on foreign investors, vanishing beaches, and who really profits when paradise is for sale.

This story is a Tourism Voices Original and was recorded in the early 2000s. Recent visits show that many aspects of it are still relevant. The Tourism Voices Assessment project will update the story soon.

Before the 1980s, life in Bali moved at the pace of the rice fields and the sea. Most people worked in agriculture or fishing. If we had some rice and a piece of fish, we were happy. Then Bali was marketed around the world as a paradise, and paradise began to fill with tourists and investors.

I do not blame the tourists for what happened next. My criticism is directed at the large investors and at the government that allowed them to decide so much of Bali’s future.

Foreign investors bought large areas of land, brought workers from Java and Lombok to construct hotels, and then sent much of the profit outside Bali. Very little came back to the Balinese government through taxes. The large hotels also imported much of their food instead of buying from local producers.

Some coastal hotels started treating the beach in front of their buildings as private property. Balinese people who came there could be sent away. The coastline has always been important to us for fishing, daily life and religious ceremonies, but the places we can still use are becoming smaller.

Construction workers brought from other islands often stayed in Bali when a project ended. There is nothing wrong with people coming here to work. The problem is that they were brought here for temporary labour and then left without an income. Some became involved in crime because they had no way to support themselves.

Tourism has created jobs for Balinese people, but usually at the lowest levels: room attendants, gardeners and other poorly paid work. Management positions commonly go to outsiders. When a family cannot live on the wages, it may sell its land. An investor buys that land and builds another hotel, and the same cycle begins again. The money from the sale eventually runs out, but the family’s land is gone forever.

If a Balinese person does not have enough food, he will borrow from his neighbour. He will not steal from a stranger.

As a coastal engineer, I am particularly concerned about environmental damage. The Bali Turtle Island Development changed the currents around Sanur. Beaches that once stayed in place began to wash away. The nearby mangrove forest came under threat, the turtles disappeared from Turtle Island and coral continued to be cut. The damage caused by this single project has been enormous, yet the government has not seriously intervened.

Tourism works better when visitors spend money directly with local people. A family selling food, drinks or souvenirs can keep that income in the community, and local spending also contributes more to public revenue. But this part of the economy is becoming crowded too. More people arrive hoping to earn money from tourism, while the number of visitors does not grow at the same speed. Everyone ends up competing for the same spending.

Crime, drugs and prostitution have become much more visible than they were before. I believe many of these problems were introduced by people who came from outside Bali, although I know that no society can pretend all its own people behave perfectly.

Sometimes tourism creates strange new traditions. There are no elephants native to Bali, but tourists like elephants, so businesses import them and present them as part of a Balinese experience. I find that more amusing than offensive. People are trying to earn a living.

What concerns me more is the quiet change in our real ceremonies. In the past, people could visit a temple in a simple sarong. Now they may be expected to wear particular colours and a blouse. At cremations, people increasingly dress in black, although that was not our custom before. I do not always understand where these new rules come from.

Meanwhile, hotels occupy more of the beaches where ceremonies once took place. The physical space for our traditions is disappearing, even if the faith itself remains strong.

The tourists did not decide this future for Bali. Investors did, with the permission of a government that failed to protect the island.

I still believe our deepest foundations remain: our Hindu faith, our families and our care for older people. But foundations can only support us if the land and environment around them survive.

Tourists are welcome in Bali. What I cannot accept is development that takes our beaches, damages our coastline and leaves local people with only the lowest-paid work. If that process continues without limits, the paradise people come to see may eventually be ruined.