Indonesia stands at the crossroads of a waste crisis and plastics problem
23 March, 2020
Indonesia is probably the biggest contributors to plastic pollution in the ocean. It became a dumping ground for the world’s plastic waste after China’s ban on trash imports. And today, a fresh crisis is brewing in the country.
Its landfills are running out of space, even with only 60 to 70 % of urban waste being collected and taken to its hundreds of landfills.
Indonesia’s most significant landfill, Bantar Gebang - the only person serving the capital, Jakarta - will run out of space next year, officials have said. It is not the only one, however, facing a deadline.
Due to urban growth and increasing incomes, Indonesia’s mountains of waste are growing faster than anyone had imagined. “Every zone is nearly full because of the increase in waste,” said Bagong Suyoto, head of the National Waste Coalition.
One of Indonesia's landfills.
The country produces nearly 200,000 tonnes of waste a day - not merely plastic but also paper, rubber, food, et cetera. Too little funding and weak law enforcement, however, have led to an inadequate waste management system for years.
OPEN DUMPING
Across the country, most of the landfills operate as an open dump: The waste is piled high, with little control over any resultant environmental problems, such as groundwater pollution and the release of methane gas.
But as landfills are cheap to build and easy to maintain, there's been little incentive to create a change so far.
In West Java, the most populous province, there are even landfills located hand and hand with communities, with barely any separation from the surrounding farms and homes, like in Burangkeng.
The landfill in Burangkeng.
Village resident Hatta and his family live 500 metres from the landfill there. And he complains that “everyone’s influenced by the noise and smells”. However they have “tolerated it for 23 years”.
Younger residents such as for example Carsa Hamdani, however, are upset by the mismanagement of the landfill. He wants a different fate for his hometown, and is needs to take action.
He has enlisted the assistance of Bagong, who works together with communities living near landfills. Among the veteran campaigner’s priorities is to make certain authorities give to Burangkeng something referred to as “smelly money”, or compensation for what they need to face.
“The people of Burangkeng are simply just fighting because of their rights,” says Bagong.
Bagong Suyoto speaking with young people.
Among the landfill’s most immediate hazards is the insufficient water treatment facilities. By law, waste water in the landfill should be treated, and the rubbish ought to be covered regularly with soil to control the smell.
But a lot of Indonesia’s landfills, like the one in Burangkeng, are managed by private operators. Plus they do not always go by the book.
“The water flow here's uncontrolled, and it’s flowing to the paddy fields, killing them, making them unable to grow your crops,” says Carsa.
“Then it directly flows into the river. And it’s very unfortunate. There should be better safety precautions; instead, you see wastes turning up near to the river.”
Carsa Hamdani (centre) and other young Burangkeng residents.
What he and other residents want is to be consulted about the landfill’s future, especially as landfill authorities plan to triple its size because it is getting full.
“When possible, don’t do any expansion,” urges Hatta. “Manage the waste properly, improve onto it (and) align the policies with the will of the neighborhood community.”
THOUSANDS OF SCAVENGERS
Not definately not Burangkeng is Bantar Gebang, which holds over 39 million tonnes of waste now, its towers reaching 40 metres high. It receives some 7,500 to 7,800 tonnes daily, says Bagong, “all day long and night, especially in the afternoon”.
The clock is ticking, but its future continues to be being debated, along with that of other landfills across Indonesia.
The government wants to build incinerators to shrink the number of waste and buy more time. But one reason there's been little progress may be the thousands of folks whose lives rely upon landfills.
Bantar Gebang.
At Bantar Gebang alone, there are 6,000 scavengers who are part of a casual recycling network that salvages what Indonesians discard. No one has decided how to proceed with these informal staff if landfills get nothing but incinerated ash.
Cantel, for instance, works morning to night to earn about 160,000 rupiah (S$15) a day.
Per day, he can gather up to 100 kg of plastics that he can sell to makeshift workshops where in fact the waste is further sorted and then sold to recycling factories.
In his experience, you will find a buyer for almost all sorts of plastic except polystyrene and single-use sachets - which are, ironically, the most common plastic items in the rubbish heaps.
Cantel.
“There is absolutely no value to (them),” he says. “(They) can’t be recycled. (They) aren’t strong enough to be processed.”
It really is filthy, labourious work. And despite these efforts to split up recyclables from trash, about 40 % of what is collected from landfills is rejected by recyclers.
Indonesia’s big recycling companies accept only a particular sort of plastic - high-grade, clean rather than mixed with other materials - to make water bottles, cups and straws, or plastic pellets sold to other manufacturers.
For many of the major recyclers, the only method to gratify their needs is to look overseas.
“The caliber of the materials in the country doesn’t meet our standards because (they’re) smelly, dirty and so forth. What we have domestically isn’t enough,” says Indonesia Industrial Plastic Export-Import Association chairman Akhmad Ma’ruf Maulana.
“We’re heavily reliant on the import of (recyclables).”
Akhmad Ma’ruf Maulana.
NEW REALITIES
Indonesia’s plastic recycling industry’s opportunity to grow came when China banned waste imports like plastic and unsorted paper products, with effect from 2018. Shipments of plastic waste to Indonesia that year increased by 141 % to 283,000 tonnes.
Nonetheless it was soon discovered that that which was shipped as recyclable plastics often was included with dirty, low-grade and even toxic wastes, that have been impossible to recycle and led to more contamination.
Paper recyclers also accepted undesirable plastics together with paper scraps, in substitution for a cheaper price.
This past year, when non-governmental organisations sounded the alarm about foreign plastic waste being dumped in Indonesia, there is public outrage.
The federal government took action: Extra permits are actually needed before paper and plastic recyclables can be imported; customs inspections have already been tightened; and a huge selection of containers carrying contaminated scrap have already been denied entry.
The stringent checks mean a longer period for legitimate recyclables to attain companies, and the industry says the new rules have hurt business. However the authorities are standing firm.
“These improvements are necessary. That is progressive,” says Achmad Gunawan Widjaksono, a waste management director at the Ministry of Environment and Forestry. “Our rules must catch up with developments on earth.”
Across the country too, an environmental movement is growing, spurred by what some have called a waste crisis. In Bali, images of choked beaches triggered a provincial ban on single-use plastics. Elsewhere, a large number of Indonesians have mobilised to clean up major rivers.
Cleaners on the Ciliwung River, a major waterway flowing through Jakarta in to the open sea.
Even in Tropodo village in East Java, where at least 50 tofu factories have relied on cheap plastic fuel, especially from imported waste, there appears to be an adaptation to new realities.
As the chimney stacks of some factories continue to spew thick black smoke, the telltale sign of burning plastic, others have switched to wood.
Take, for instance, factory owner Komar. Previously, his personnel had never to only put up with the pungent smell of burning plastic but also breathe the poisonous fumes. Firewood, he acknowledges, is more green.
“My motivation is to supply an improved working environment, in order that I’m in a position to receive more good prayers,” he says.
Replacing his burners cost him 150 million rupiah - not something many of his fellow tofu makers are able. But with their old fuel supply drying up and the neighborhood government threatening penalties, there is absolutely no other choice.
Inside Komar's tofu factory.
Those working to tidy up Indonesia’s waste recognise that the status quo must change. The country’s landfills are a good example.
“In waste management, landfills are (usually) the ultimate solution. But it’s the least desirable solution. It’s an outdated solution,” acknowledges Gunawan.
Too little funding and technology are the challenges Indonesia must now overcome, says Bagong. “We desire a new paradigm ... and creative, innovative ways to get rid of our waste from the source, using different methods and technologies.”
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