Conserving Custom, Policing Parkland

Code : 17.3.2

Conserving Custom, Policing Parkland: Customary Custodianship, Multi-Ethnic Participation, and Resource Entitlement in the Lore Lindu National Park (Central Sulawesi, Indonesia)

Greg Acciaioli Asia Research Institute National University of Singapore Email: [email protected]

Abstract It is true that parks may have been created by ‘top-down’ forces, but that is the only way they could have been created. ‘Bottom-up’ in situ efforts have created systems of sacred groves and sacred forests but nothing of a scale sufficient to preserve large portions of ecosystem. But top-down efforts will never ensure the conservation of a place they have succeeded in creating. For this, the good will and enthusiasm of local forces are essential (Brandon, Redford and Sanderson 1998, p. 462).

Introduction In his re-traversal of portions of Alfred Russel Wallace’s travels throughout the Malay Archipelago, one of the foci of Tim Severin’s (1997) attention was how well the rich biodiversity that Wallace had observed had been preserved in various parts of the region, as well as what mechanisms had been most efficacious in the conservation endeavour:

Nearly one and a half centruries later we would visit those same places, look again at the environment, and see what had changed and what had not. On the basis of that evaluation we might also gain some insight into what was being done to protect and preserve those unique habitats, and whether those protective measures were effective (Severin 1997, p.12).

After setting out from Warbal in the Kei Islands , where Severin had commissioned a boat to be built fitting the specifications of one Wallace had used in his own peregrinations over a century earlier, his expedition proceeded to the island of Kei Besar, where he immediately encountered a plethora of bird- and insect-life that made him feel ‘that in some distant corners of the Moluccas

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok the natural world did survive largely intact’ (Severin 1997, p.53). Severin attributed this preservation of habitat to ‘the authority of a traditional leader, a “rajah”, with strong opinions on the management of the environment’ (Severin 1997, p.67):

The rajah or ‘king’ of Maur Ohoiwut, whose territory included Haar, firmly believed in the age-old methods of resource management. He held that exploitation of the land and sea should be done according to custom. There were specified times and quotas for collecting coconuts, gathering forest crops, cutting timber, taking shellfish, catching certain species of fish.1 These laws were hallowed by custom [i.e. adat] and were empirical. When there was a strong advocate like the rajah, these laws were also obeyed. In all likelihood the same customs and controls had existed at the time Alfred Wallace visited Haar, but he was unaware of them. Possibly they had protected the environment of Kai Besar for the following century and a half, until we came to see the place for ourselves (Severin 1997, p.67)

Where adat held sway, and local leaders had the political will to enforce it, the environment thrived.

In contrast, Severin’s estimation of the conservation success of Nature Reserves he encountered was rather less enthusiastic. In contrast to the feeling of harmony between man and nature he had experienced in Kai Besar, in the Baun Nature Reserve in eastern Aru he encountered birds who scattered at the first sound or sight of human beings (Severin 1997, p.89): ‘…as opposed to Kei where the bird-life was at ease with humans….[in] Baun…the animals were allegedly in a protected area, but they were highly nervous.’ The warden, nevertheless, claimed that the Baun Reserve was a success, with numbers of Birds of Paradise increasing, poaching declining, and other animals flourishing, but Severin remained uncomfortable about the dependence of the reserve on outside funds and the vulnerability of the reserve to the incursions of surrounding villagers, whose tree and cassava gardens were already ‘nibbling’ into the protected area:

Without any apparent traditional structure to preserve the wildlife resoures as in Kei Besar, or indigenous enthusiasm, the Reserve would be destroyed. Perhaps I was being over-pessimistic, but I foresaw an unhappy scenario (Severin 1997, p.92)

The paucity of dugongs and dearth of turtle eggs on the island of Enue in the South-East Aru Marine Reserve – a situation Severin (1997, p.98) labelled as ‘utter rape’ – did little to increase Severin’s estimates of the protective capacities of nationally mandated reserves. When searching for the rare Red Bird of Paradise, he discovered that the protected area of Waigeo ‘was largely an

1 In various parts of the Moluccas (Maluku), these regulations are known as sasi (Zerner 1992).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok administrative fiction’2 (Severin 1997, p.92), as these birds were consistently hunted by the nearby villagers for the ‘flourishing and highly illegal trade in the Red Birds of Paradise’3 (Severin 1997, p.163), although he did note that the villagers of Kaboei were careful to hunt these birds in sustainable fashion, basing their takes on individual ownership of trees where the birds ‘played’ (i.e. engaged in courtship displays) each morning and evening. Later in North Sulawesi, he did encounter the flourishing Tangkoko Nature Reserve, but attributed its success in protecting Maleo birds, tarsiers, cuscus, macaques and other wildlife to the work of a nongovernmental organisation (NGO) that effectively ran the park, providing all the rangers and managing the tourist facilities, though officially under the control of the Directorate General of Forestry Protection and Nature Conservation (Severin 1997, pp.224-225). In his epilogue, Severin summed up his impressions by noting that ‘traditional care for the environment’ seemed more effective at conservation than any modern protection policies, such as gazetting reserves (Severin 1997, p.255).

Severin’s experiences and conclusions are neither unique nor novel. In fact, they echo the views put forth by many environmentalist and indigenous rights NGOs in Indonesia (e.g. Yayasan Tanah Merdeka, the Foundation for Free Land, in Central Sulawesi). Others have disputed the ability of traditional systems of adat, now reformulated and re-presented as community resource management systems (sistem pengelolaan sumber daya alam berbasiskan masyarakat), to conserve habitats in the face of increasing population pressure and the allure of extending land for cash crops, such as chocolate, vanilla, and others, for the global market. In this regard, it is important to remember that, despite his nostalgic respect for the operation of adat (local custom) in preserving the environment of Kai Besar, ‘the most competent environmental protection’ that Severin witnessed was that exercised by the NGO rangers operating under government sanction in the Tangkoko Nature Reserve in North Sulawesi (Severin 1997, p.260). What this essay seeks to explore is the formation of other sorts of cooperation around another protected area of Sulawesi, the Lore Lindu National Park (Taman Nasional Lore Lindu or TNLL), specifically the politics surrounding the formation of conservation agreement in the region. Although manifestly

2 Many anthropologists and others have decried the nonoperation of ‘paper parks’ (e.g. Wadley n.d. on Danau Sentarum) in Indonesia and elsewhere. 3 Severin subsequently notes that in the region of Bacan the bird trade was largely controlled by Bugis middlemen, ‘who sailed with their live cargoes back to Sulawesi, rom where manyh of them were shipped on to Singapore’ (Severin 1997: 178)! 3

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok combining, perhaps even synthesizing, elements of traditional adat management, modern NGO management, and the framework of governmentally mandated reserves and parks, the success of these agreements remains in doubt, given the continuing operation of conflicting agendas among the parties involved.

The Historical Heritage of National Parks As an institution of the modern world, the genealogy of national parks is often traced back to the Yellowstone model as the founding paradigm that has begotten myriad national parks, nature reserves and other similar institutions, over 10,000 in 160 countries according to one recent count (Stevens 1997b, p. 14), all administered, to use the contemporary idiom, for the preservation of biodiversity. The founding vision for such parks is often traced back to the proposal in 1832 of the artist Geroge Catlin calling for a `magnificient park’, stretching from Canada down to Mexico and the Caribbean, embracing most of the mid-West, where both native bison and native peoples, the ‘Indians’, could be allowed to roam free. Yet, this vision underwent many transformations before the US Congress declared the Yellowstone region in the territory of Wyoming a national park in 1872 (it was actually preceded by the founding of Yosemite in 1864). In the 1850s Henry David Thoreau had argued for the need to keep some areas of nature intact in the fact of the onslaught of civilisation, and a decade later George Perkins March wrote of massive deforestation and land use across the North American continent (Dasmann 1988, pp. 302-303). Perhap most importantly, John Muir’s notion of ‘wilderness’ as completely uninhabited came to play an ever more important role in conservation ideology. By the time of Yellowstone’s establishment, parks and reserves were seen as places to be kept pristine; preservation of flora and fauna required the extrusion of human habitation and use (except in the form of witnessing, i.e. as nature tourism). National parks and other reserves were erected according to a logic of exclusion (Clad 1988, p. 324).

Despite some notable exceptions, such a logic governed the erection of national parks and preserves not only in the Western nations, but in the countries they dominated in the colonial system that endured until WWII. Indeed, even independent countries after decolonisation tended to adhere to this model, engaging in notable projects of resettlement in the interests of preserving wildlife, both faunal and floral. The extrusion of the Ik from Uganda’s Kidepo Valley National Park provides just one example (Turnbull 1972; Colchester Salvaging, Section 2, pp. 3ff.) of a

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok widespread policy orientation. Even when subjected to resettlement, such groups as the Maasaai have been forbidden access to key conservation sites and denied the right to cultivate in in areas such as the Ngorongoro Conservation Area (Homewood and Rodgers 1988, p. 314).

However, since the 1970s, as a result of a confluence of interests between the interests of the international lobby for better management of natural resources and the indigenous people’s movement (Clad 1988, p. 322), there has been greater recognition that national parks are unviable as isolated preserves if surrounded by degraded lands or by peoples who are hostile to its existence, whether having long resided there, and thus claiming the warrant of indigeneity in the region, or having been resettled or spontaneously migrated to the region. Agencies such as the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN) have sought to incorporate consideration of the rights of ‘indigenous’ peoples to continue occupying traditional lands. Managers of national parks have been urged in even more recent years to formulate agreements of co-management, involving indigenous peoples in the areas of the park in conservation arrangements and utilising them as park protectors. To name but one instance, the Australian national park system has experienced some success in training and employing Aboriginal rangers in such contexts as Kakadu National Park and Gurig National Park, although some authors have decried the limitation of Aboriginal participation to the status of rangers without a more substantial role in park management (Foster 1997; Colchester Salvaging section 4, p. 7).4 In order to surmount the first problem of surrounding land degradation, park managers have fostered development projects and land use plans for peoples living in areas surrounding such parks and reserves to enhance the quality of their lands and thus prevent, or at least minimise, destructive incursions of such peoples into the reserve land.

However, such efforts have been focussed almost exclusively on cooperation with peoples deemed indigenous. As the IUCN ‘Task Force on Traditional Lifestyles’ defined their object of attention:

4 Colchester (Salvaging section 4, p. 7) notes Cordell’s observation on the lack of substantial sharing of power in co- management of national parks in Australia: ‘‘Judging from Kakadu and Uluru, Aboriginal involvement in protected area management is on the verge of degenerating into Smokey Bear-style ranger training, in which the role of traditional owners is simply to add an interpretive and marketable ethnic element to running the parks.’

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok The ways of life (cultures) of indigenous people which have evolved locally and are based on sustainable use of local ecosystems; such lifestyles are often at subsistence levels of production and are seldom a part of the mainstream culture of their country, athough they do contribute to its cultural wealth (Clad 1988, p 322).

Those peoples who do not meet such criteria of indigeneity, even if living within or in the vicinity of national parks and reserves, have often been neglected in the formulation of cooperative management arrangements, as they have been viewed as pursuing lifestyles based on unsustainable extraction rather than sustainable use (for example, as rubber tappers, rattan gatherers, herders or even ranchers, and in similar occupations). Even among those organisations urging such cooperation with indigenous peoples, there has been a divergence of opinion as to the limits of considering their work. Some organisations, especially NGOs, have argued that regimens of ‘sustainable use’, as embodied in indigenous peoples’ practices, constitute the best foundation for preservation of natural resources. Such advocates have urged the adoption of indigenous customary practices, reconceptualised as community-based resource management systems, as a sufficient basis for preserving environmental diversity. Others have argued that such practices, while certainly more anchored in notions of harmony with nature, cannot be considered a sufficient basis for conservation, since past maintenance of ecological diversity may have had more to do with the presence of a limited population and small scale of exploitation and would prove unsustainable with population increases and contact with contemporary pressures to find sources of income for financing the material benefits of modernity. In this view there is no guarantee that indigenous peoples will always wish to retain traditional technologies, settlement patterns, and small-scale subsistence strategies; in addition, it would be unethical to institutionalize ‘enforced primitivism’, as the World Bank terms it in its rejection of such practices, on such peoples in the interest of nature conservation. Such enforcement would simply lead to the production of human zoos, as was unfortunately exemplified during WWII with the Japanese conversion of island of Lan Yu into private botanical/anthropological museum with access only to government officials and anthropologists up to 1945. Although the creation of multi-purpose conservation areas, as in case of New Zealand’s `multiple use reserves’, has accommodated aspects of the former outlook, the latter outlook has also exercised considerable influence on what has come to be a dominant paradigm of conservation, the ‘biosphere reserve’.

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok Modelling the Protected Area in Indonesia: TNC and The Biosphere Reserve A prominent proponent of the biosphere reserve concept, under its own term of ‘eco-region’, is the Nature Conservancy (TNC), one of the most active players in the world of park preservation. Headquartered in Arlington, Virginia, and owning over 1,300 preserves in the USA, it operates the largest private system of nature sanctuaries in the world. It has also entered into agreements with the governments of countries throughout the world, especially in the Global South, for the joint management of parks and reserves in the interest of protecting biodiversity. TNC has demonstrated it commitment to working with local partners, including indigenous peoples, in order to achieve this goal. However, it has rejected the notion of ‘sustainable use’, and hence complete custodianship by local peoples, whether indigenous or not, as sufficient to ensure biodiversity conservation. While acknowledging the appropriateness of local participation, including formal agreements with indigenous communities within and around reserves, as well as fostering appropriate development for such communities as a capacity-building strategy, it has maintained the stance that some core areas of parks and reserves should not be subjected to human use. Its park management plans and evaluations thus depend upon a notion of zonation, differently elaborated in different contexts, with some park areas subject to human use, including the creation of enclaves, while others are designated as out of bounds.

TNC’s Parks in Peril (PiP) program has become its flagship program to implement such a strategy (Brandon, Redford and Sanderson 1998: Foreword). The largest single program supporting parks in the western hemisphere, it encompases 60 parks in 18 countries throughout Latin and South America, covering over 30 million ha. Based on the major premise that areas protected by policies of exclusion, what has come to be regarded as the Yellowstone model, cannot bear the complete burden for conserving biodiversity, PiP works on the basis of implementing four criterial strategies: 1) Establish on-site protection 2) Integrate protected areas into the economic and cultural life of local communities 3) Create long-term funding mechanisms to sustain local management of these areas 4) (introduced in 1995) use experiences of PiP site-based activities to influence conservation in other sites in the region’s most imperiled ecosystems

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok In contrast to orientations based on the presumed adequacy of ‘sustained use’ to protect the diversity of plants, animals and natural communites, shared by approaches labelled by such terms as ‘parks for people’, sustainable development and use, conservation for development, grassroots community-based conservation, etc., the PiP program retains the notion of protected areas excluding human uses (i.e. core zones), arguing that the use of any technique of forest product harvesting or cultivation, modern or traditional, imposed or indigenous, is scale-dependent . Effective conservation of biodiversity requires managing a number of different environments requiring a combination, ever tenuous, of both participatory inclusion and enforced exclusion.

As one of its projects outside the western hemisphere, TNC has been involved with the Department of Forestry in Indonesia in the management of the Lore Lindu National Park (Taman Nasional Lore Lindu or TNLL), officially declared a national park in 1993 (Surat Keputusan Menteri Kehutanan No. 593/Kpts-II/93 of 5 October 1993), 11 years after the Indonesian government declared it a candidate for this status as part of its initiative announced at the Congress of National Parks throughout the World, held in Bali in 1982 (Surat Keputusan Menteri Pertanian No. 736/Mentan/X/1982), and 16 years after having been declared a biosphere reserve by UNESCO5 (Sangaji et al. 2004: 17). Indeed, TNC’s managerial role in cooperation with the Department of Forestry preceded the actual establishment of the separate Management Authority, Balai Taman Nasional Lore Lindu (BTNLL), in 1997.

TNC’s draft management plan acknowledges that it has had to carry out this task of co- management:

…at a time of great change and upheaveal in Indonesia[n] society. Gone are the rigid directives of central planning and in their place are the needs and aspirations of the Park’s diverse stakeholders (Draft Management Plan, vol. 1, p.2).

Compared to earlier policies, the emphasis of TNC upon a collaborative management strategy with indigenous stakeholders has been a salutary advance. However, recent confrontations with other local peoples around the park have raised questions concerning the consensus necessary for

5 A subsequent governmental declaration in 1999 redefined the borders of the park. In its current form, TNLL stretches across 217,991.l8 ha. [anon. 2001, p. 2; Kespakatan Lindu 2005, p. 2), stretching from 1o 8’ to 1o 20’ south latitude and 119o 58’ to 120o 15’ east longitude (Sangadji et al. 2004. p. 16).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok sustaining a positive attitude to the park. The continuing harvesting of rattan and other forest products by spontaneous migrants, many of them Bugis from South Sulawesi, and the occupation of one area of parkland, specifically a ‘core zone’, called DongiDongi by resettlers in the Palolo Valley, who also claims rights as a an `original ethnic group’ (suku asli) in the region, have added new dimensions to previous contestations of authority presented to the park managers. In response, local NGOs have shifted their grounds of support for such contestations, making the transition from a concern with the rights of ‘indigenous peoples’ (masyarakat adat, literally ‘customary communities’) to general concerns of rural poverty and agrarian social justice. However, understanding these issues requires some background on the rise of the indigenous people’s movement in Indonesia, especially as it relates to the governmental transition to regional autonomy, and its specific bearing upon some of the peoples resident within and around TNLL.

The ‘Indigenous Peoples’ Movement in Indonesia and Claims to Land The legislation concerning regional autonomy6 was introduced in the transitional era following the collapse of Suharto’s New Order as a response to the demands of various provinces for greater control over their own resources, including a greater proportion of the revenue from their exploitation. Although most of the elements enumerated in the legislation were enacted at the level of the regency and province, one chapter of the legislation was concerned with reform at the administrative village (desa) level. In fact, in many ways the village level is defined as that which most corresponds to the official definition of an autonomous region.7 The village is characterized as a territory having agriculture as its main activity and is responsible for the management of natural resources, along with providing a place of rural settlement and exercising a system of territorial functions, including, the rendering of government services, social services, and economic activities (GOI 1999, p.5). This conceptualisation of the village as itself an ‘autonomous region’ has opened up the possibility of institutional reform enacted by villagers at

6 Along with implementing regulations, two pieces of legislation (UU No. 22 Tahun 1999 tentang Pemerintahan Daerah, UU No. 25 Tahun 1999 tentang Perimbangan Keuangan Antara Pemerintah Pusat dan Daerah [GOI 1999]) have formed the basis of regional autonomy. 7 The parallelism of wording in definitions is striking. While an ‘autonomous region’ (daerah otonom) is defined as ‘a unit of legal society that has definite regional boundaries [and] has authority to order and take care of the local interests of society according to its own initiatives based on the aspirations of society within the bonds of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia (GOI 1999: 4), an administrative village (desa) is a ‘a unit of legal society that possesses authority to order and take care of the local interests of society based on the local origins and customs and traditions that are acknowledged in the National System of governance that exists at the regency [kabupaten] level’ (GOI 1999: 4-5).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok this level, as oriented to the control of local resources, especially land for agriculture and other uses.

In some areas implementation of village-level reform has proceeded by a revival of what has been presented as customary (adat) insitutions of governance. In its delineation of possibilities for reform at the village level, chapter XI of the regional autonomy legislation (GOI 1999, pp.35- 40) explicitly highlights the role of local custom. A village head (kepala desa) should fulfill all administrative duties not explicitly listed ‘in conformity with customs and traditions (adat istiadat) that have been organized in the regional regulations’ (GOI 1999, p.37). Significantly, this chapter omits mention of such village-level institutions as the LKMD (Lembaga Ketahanan Masyarakat Desa or Village Society Security Institute) and LMD (Lembaga Masyarakat Desa or Village Social Institute), previously bulwarks of the New Order uniform administrative village system.8 Instead, all that does rate mention is a Village Representative Body (Badan Perwakilan Desa or BPD), the precise constitution of which is left purposefully vague, presumably so that villagers in each region can constitute this body according to local procedures. What is not vague is the designation of its first ‘function to protect local customs and traditions’ (GOI 1999, p.39). Indeed, a primary aim of the regency government regulations as a whole is to ‘recognize and honor the rights, origins and customs and traditions of the Village’ (GOI 1999, p.41). This acknowledgement of the centrality of local custom (adat) constitutes one of the most significant recognitions of the autonomy legislation in the current era of Reformasi. It opens up a political space for the replacement of once nationally uniform institutions, local conduits of nationalist allegiance, by regionally variable organizations and procedures of governance that encode community aspirations and adherence to local custom. But it also establishes the grounds of potential conflict by leaving unaddressed the issue of how the various constituencies in multi- ethnic villages, not all of whom may acknowledge the same adat, will be able to find representation and protection of their resource rights in new systems of village governance.

Concurrent with this legislation, in fact both influencing its emphases and further gaining momentum from its enactment, has been the nationwide movement for the reassertion of the

8 The basis of this uniform village administrative system was established in two pieces of legislation, the 1974 regional government law (Undang-undang Nomor 5 Tahun 1974 tentang Pokok-pokok Pemerintahan di Daerah) and the 1979 village government law (Undang-undang Nomor 5 Tahun 1979 tentang Pemerintahan Desa).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok rights of ‘customary communities’ (masyarakat adat)9. Although an incipient movement fostered by several NGOs from the early 90s, this movement came of age with the holding of the ‘Congress of Archipelagic Customary Societies’ (Kongres Masyarakat Adat Nusantara or KMAN) held in Jakarta, from the 15th to the 22nd of March 1999. The first ‘fact sheet’ that this congress issued constituted a manifesto of its aims. It concentrated upon the efforts of these societies to gain recognition for various types of rights – ‘rights of origin, rights over customary territory, rights of upholding a value system, ideology and customs and traditions, economic rights, and most importantly the political right of customary societies to defend and develop their special cultures’ – that they felt had been ‘unjustly and undemocratically expropriated’ by the New Order government (KMAN 1999a, p.1). Accusing the central government of imposing laws and policies that have ‘hegemonic qualities’, monopolizing allegiance in the name of ‘national sovereignty’, in their opening manifesto the conference organizers declared their purpose of re- establishing the ‘sovereignty of customary societies’ as a complementary node of allegiance. Such reassertion of local sovereignty was proclaimed as a more appropriate realization of the original nationalist aim of promoting ‘mutual respect and working together toward a strong nation’ in the context of the ‘variety of cultures and plurality of local systems in Indonesia’, as encoded in the chosen national motto ‘Bhinneka Tunggal Ika’ (usually translated as ‘Unity in Diversity’) (KMAN 1999a, p.1).

In addition to striving for a proper recognition of their place as the ultimate social building blocks, the ‘last fortresses’ of the national order, properly understood, the ‘customary societies’ represented at the congress particularly concentrated upon asserting their ‘customary right to territory and the natural resources in it’ (KMAN 1999a, p.1). The expropriation of their resources through the monopolistic policies of ‘collusion, corruption, and nepotism’ used by the the ‘centralistic and authoritarian (militaristic)’ New Order State was declared a ‘transgression of basic human rights’. Setting forth an agenda oriented to ‘basic human rights, democratization , natural resources/environment’, the organizing committee devoted the first two days of the

9 Li (2001: 645) translates the term masyarakat adat as ‘literally, people who adhere to customary ways’. Although Li’s translation as ‘people’ seems more appropriate for the term bangsa, which would also have the connotations of ‘nation’ (Acciaioli 2001), I prefer to use the term society/ies in my gloss to accord with the definition of masyarakat adat formally accepted at KMAN: ‘social groups (kelompok) that have ancestral origins (which have persisted for generations) in a specific geographical territory (wilayah), along with possessing a value system, ideology, economy, politics, culture, society and territory of their own’ (KMAN 1999b]). As this definition indicates, the current Indonesian term masyarakat adat is largely a translation of the Dutch colonial term adatgemeenschap [D], as used by van Vollenhoven and other scholars of the conservative Leiden school (van Vollenhoven 1912, ter Haar 1948). 11

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok congress to three preliminary discussions, covering (1) regional autonomy and customary governance, (2) customary land (tanah adat), and (3) basic human rights and the politics of customary societies (KMAN 1999b) In the second of these seminars, discussion centered on the articulation of three basic demands:.the rescinding of all laws and regulations that inflicted losses on customary societies, the acknowledgment and protection of rights to customary land, and the requirement to gain agreement from local customary societies for all forms of use and ownership of customary land (Kartika and Gautama 1999, p.176).

Concentration upon the rights of customary societies to oversee the use of local resources, especially land, constituted a clear stream of concern throughout the congress as a whole. Four of the twelve economic demands issued at the end of the conference — dealing with the rejection of monoculture farming systems, the reclamation of the right of local management of all local resources, and the return to customary societies of various types of land and natural resources that had been allocated to other uses by the central government, including ‘conversion land’ (tanah konversi), that is, land given over to forest concessions (HPH), industrial plant concessions (HTI), and other types of concessions – explicitly referred to land or the use of natural resources related to it (KMAN 1999c). Taking back ultimate jurisdiction over the bestowal and use of land not under permanent cultivation (hak ulayat, the Indonesian form of the colonial Dutch legal term beschikkingsrecht) was announced as one of the most important goals of the Alliance of Archipelagic Customary Societies (Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Nusantara or AMAN), the organization which sprang from the congress (Fauzi 1999, p.186; Gesuri et. al. 1999). The need to force central government recognition of customary land rights as no longer subordinate to State interests emerged as one of the most significant demands of the customary society movement, constituting ‘a claim for the sovereignty of customary societies over their territories’ (Fausa 1999, p.186).Although not specifically mentioned as glaring examples in the KMAN publications, the demand for recognition of customary rights over land was soon extended as well to land that had been ‘converted’ by other laws and decrees into reserves and national parks.

This movement has been able to put forth such demands due to some crucial ambiguities in the basic agrarian legislation of 1960 (Undang-undang No. 5 Tahun 1960 tentang Peraturan Dasar Pokok-pokok Agraria) (GOI n.d.) Despite its preamble overtly stating its aim to supersede colonial laws in this sector (GOI n.d., p.4-5) and to overcome the Dutch legal policy of dualism,

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok which had separated Western law (hukum barat) from local customary laws (hukum adat), in many ways this legislation only succeeded in creating an uneasy tension between these two sources of law.10 Indeed, its opening ‘opinion’ explicitly notes ‘the necessity of the existence of a national agrarian law that is based upon customary law concerning land, which is simple and insures legal certainty for all of the Indonesian people, without neglecting the elements that are dependent upon religious law’ (GOI n.d., p.1). However, once its central stipulations begin to be listed, it is clear that this legislation sought to subordinate local customary law (hukum adat) to national interests. Ultimately, all natural resources, ‘the land, water and air, including all the natural riches to be found in them, are controlled at the highest level by the State as the organization of power (organisasi kekuasaan) of all the people’ (GOI n.d., p.5-6). This ultimate ‘right of control’ was part of the State’s arrogation of sovereignty for the declared purpose of achieving prosperity and justice for all the people of Indonesia (GOI n.d., p 6).11

The ascription of ultimate sovereignty to the state in matters concerning the control and use of resources is precisely what the current customary society movement has sought to contest as part of its reassertion of the competing sovereignty (kedaulatan) of customary societies. In practice, the 1960 agrarian law has resulted in all land that is not given over to inhabitation or used in permanent cultivation, encompassing both wet-rice cultivation and tree crops, being declared State land (tanah Negara). The State thus reserves the ultimate right of disposal rather than the land being allocated under jurisdictional rights of access (hak ulayat) dictated by local custom. For example, temporarily unallocated, fallow swidden fields and forest areas which local peoples had used for gathering wood, rattan, medicinal herbs, and other resources, could be, and have often been, declared by the State as open land that could be used for such purposes as transmigration sites, forestry concessions and others. In such decisions the status of ‘customary land’ (tanah adat), much of which covers precisely these types of uncultivated land subject to local regulation by adat councils, has been by and large ignored.12 Any form of customary

10 Under the terms of the 1870 Dutch colonial agricultural law (Agrarische Wet [D]), foreigners, including the Dutch, were limited to long-term leases (erfpacht [D]) (Kano 1977: 5), although these were easily obtained at cheap rates, often with villages coerced into such arrangements (Anderson, personal communication). 11 Indeed, the very definition of ‘the people’s prosperity’ is given as ‘ nationalism, safety, and independence within the society and legal State of a free, sovereign, just and prosperous Indonesia’ (GOI n.d.: 6).

12 In some cases compensation has been paid to people designated as customary owners, but not at any market rate. The declaration of such land as simply State land (tanah Negara) is another aspect in which the 1960 Indonesian agrarian law 13

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok control over land and other resources can only be exercised in virtue of a direct bestowal by the State: ‘The autonomous regions and customary societies can be authorized (dikuasakan) with the above-mentioned right of control by the State, in so far as it is necessary and is not in conflict with national interests, according to the decisions of Government Regulations’ (GOI n.d., p.6). The State’s delegation of authority over such land is ultimately subject to the test of consistency with what the State defines as national interests. Of course, those interests are so broadly defined, covering religious needs, social and cultural needs of society, needs of agriculture, livestock, fisheries, industry, transmigration, and mining, as well as any other needs of the State (GOI n.d., p.9), that ultimately the State can justify most any assertion of its authority in land allocation issues.

Yet, the 1960 agrarian legislation itself is crucially ambiguous in regard to the ultimate basis of such control. Contrasting with the stipulations given in the last paragraph, section 5 of the very same legislation appears to reverse the order of legal empowerment, declaring the basis of operative agrarian law to be existing customary laws, as long as they do not conflict with national interests, Indonesian socialism, agrarian and other laws and religious law (GOI n.d., p.7). It is precisely such ambiguities that the customary society movement plays upon in the current move to restore customary land (tanah adat) as a recognised category of land over which local societies can exercise sovereign rights. The movement’s advocates argue that such policies are more in accord with the philosophical basis of Indonesian nationalism (KMAN 1999a, p.1). However, in a changed natural and social landscape, one rendered more complex by such government policies as national transmigration and local resettlement in regions like Central Sulawesi, demands for the revival of local custom as the basis of land adjudication have turned out to be immensely problematic. The potential for conflict in such issues is illustrated by the contesting views of entitlement to land among the peoples settled in the Lindu plain in the western highland of this province, including indigenous To Lindu wet-rice farmers, spontaneous migrants from South Sulawesi, largely Bugis, pursuing livelihoods as fisherfolk, farmers and intermediate traders, and continued Dutch colonial practice, as first codified in the ‘Domeinverklaring [D]of 1870, which declared all unclaimed and forest lands as the domain of the state’ (Peluso 1992: 50). Such declarations parallel how other colonial regimes have often regarded land not permanently cultivated, largely land not subject to individual ownership, as ‘empty’ and hence available for uses deemed fit by the State, such as agricultural settlement or pastoral leases (e.g. terra nullius [L] in Australia (Campbell and Wilson 1993: 56-60)).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok migrants from the surrounding areas of Kulawi subdistrict who have been brought to the plain under various government-organized resettlement programs.

Re-emerging Local Autonomy among the To Lindu and other Peoples of the Lindu Plain The To Lindu of Central Sulawesi have been at the forefront of the customary society movement at the provincial level since its inception in the 1990s. The co-representive for Central Sulawesi to the national organisation AMAN is a To Lindu man, while the secretary general of the independent (but often cooperating) organisation AMASUTA (Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Sulawesi Tengah) is also from the same ethnic group.13 Both of these men, while hailing from different villages and differing widely in their outlooks upon the proper constitution of adat councils, have had considerable experience working with NGOs in the provincial capital Palu, a factor that is significant in assessing the prominent role of the To Lindu in this movement generally. The To Lindu have long been aware of the significance of their adat as a badge of their ethnicity; during the New Order they entered various adat competitions sponsored by the provincial government (in fact, winning one of them) at which performance of dances and other displays of ‘culture as art’ (Acciaioli 1985) were judged for their value in contributing to the national development effort. However, they first became aware of the political ramifications of their adat as a ‘weapon’ (Scott 1985) in battles over their control of resources when the forest region surrounding the Lindu plain was declared a candidate for national park status in 1982, realised 11 years later as TNLL.14 That imposition entailed the prohibition of such activities as collecting rattan, not to mention extending wet-rice fields (sawah) and coffee gardens, in the surrounding forest included in the park (Watling and Mulyana 1981, p.36). Such strictures actually exercised a greater impact upon more recent migrants to the area who were still in the process of opening fields, including both spontaneously migrating Bugis from South Sulawesi

13 Recently, the secretary-general of AMASUTA was removed from office, accused of embezzling over 200 million rupiah of its funds for private use. However, he has been temporarily replaced by the local representative of AMAN, so that a Lindu person still remains as the head of this provincial-level organization. 14 Originally the Lindu plain was to be incorporated into a somewhat differently configured national park, the Lore Kalamanta National Park (Blower et. al. 1977), based upon the Lore Kalamanta Game Reserve, first established in 1973. The regulations of the original game reserve were only desultorily enforced during the 70s, with the boundaries of the proposed national park being eventually considered unsatisfactory. It was replaced by the candidate Lore Lindu National Park, a composite of three formerly separate Reserves: Suaka Margasatwa Lore, Kalamanta, Hutan Wisata/Lindung Danau Lindu, and the Suaka Margasatwa Lore Kalamanta extension (Watling and Mulyana 1981).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok and migrants from Pipikoro, Kulawi and Winatu who had come to the area under local resettlement schemes within Kulawi subdistrict (Acciaioli 1989). However, the To Lindu also felt that these regulations were an assault upon their ways of using and protecting the environment as given in adat. The granting of ‘enclave’ status within the national park boundaries for the agricultural region provided a compromise whereby all the Lindu people were able to maintain their fields and have access to some forest products for domestic consumption.

Provincial plans, first announced at the end of 1988, to build a hydroelectric project at the mouth of Lake Lindu to provide for the future industrialization of Palu (Sangaji 2000) provided the impetus for a much more comprehensive resistance to government development plans. When the provincial government, invoking justifications typical for dam projects and other development projects imposed by the New Order (Aditjondro 1998), informed the inhabitants of the plain they would have to make the sacrifice of moving under a resettlement scheme for the greater good of the people of the Palu region, since the reservoir created by the hydroelectric dam would swamp their homes and fields, the To Lindu and other peoples settled in the plain simply refused. Whereas the Bugis migrants to the Lindu plain threatened to take up arms to defend their rice fields and coffee stands rather than leave, the To Lindu chose instead to pursue legal avenues for asserting their rights, as advised by a number of NGOs operating from the provincial capital Palu.

The To Lindu were among the beneficiaries of the blossoming of the NGO movement in Indonesia in the early 90s, when the surveillance orientation of the New Order with regard to NGOs was yielding, under international pressure, to a more ‘sympathetic’ attitude (Eldridge 1995, p.32). Spearheading the drive to assist the Lindu people was the local NGO Yayasan Tanah Merdeka (YTM), although it worked as part of a network of other NGOs, some Palu-based (e.g. Yayasan Palu Hijau) and some with home offices in Jakarta (e.g. WALHI, Yayasan Sejati), as well as the local branch of the Indonesia-wide Lembaga Bantuan Hukum (Legal Aid Institute). With coaching from these NGOs, especially YTM, To Lindu representatives explicitly based this resistance to the hydroelectric project on the superior benefits of their adat for protecting the environment, compared to the regulations proceeding from government-directed development. Working with representatives of the three To Lindu villages, prominently among them members of the village adat councils, YTM was able to mount a series of legal challenges to the Lindu dam project. These efforts culminated in a political expedition to Jakarta in 1995, including visits

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok to the national legislature, National Committee on Human Rights (Komnas HAM), the central office of the National Electric Company, the forestry minister, and the minister for mines and energy. As a result, this group of To Lindu youths and elders and YTM workers gained central government assurance that the Lindu hydroelectric project could not proceed on the grounds that it had not been included within any 5-year plan.15

While this trip was important in giving the To Lindu representatives the experience of success acting on a national stage, other experiences facilitated by YTM provided an even wider context to evaluate their political strategies for defending customary rights. In an earlier tour organized by YTM to the Kedung Ombo site in Central Java, To Lindu elders had the opportunity to converse with Javanese who had experienced the full effect of a dam project that had also required resettlement (Aditjondro 1998). Indeed, the development of solidarity with other oppressed groups, both within Indonesia and beyond, has been one of the primary aims of the YTM strategy to raise a consciousness among the To Lindu that they are not alone in their struggle, but are just one example of a people subjected to unjust depredations by a government with a history of ignoring the welfare of ‘indigenous peoples’ in their own land. YTM has sought to foster identification with the struggles of ‘indigenous peoples’ throughout the world against development projects, such as large-scale dams requiring the removal of peoples from their homeland (Aditjondro 1994), and even the dislocations of populations required by the erection of national parks (Clay 1985; Eilers 1985). The success of this strategy was evidenced when one To Lindu informant I interviewed at Lindu in January 2000 mentioned the analogous situation of Amazonian Indians as we were discussing the rumors of the new governor's attempt to resurrect the hydroelectric dam project on a smaller scale (Formasi Dec '99).

YTM has claimed for the To Lindu a local realisation of the ‘traditional wisdom’ (kearifan tradisional) that permeates discourses of and upon ‘indigenous peoples’ or ‘first nations’ (Maybury-Lewis 1992). This political line of indigeneity (Acciaioli 2002) has allowed the To Lindu to assume a recognizable ‘tribal slot’ (Li 2000, p.163-168) with all its connotations of ‘traditional wisdom’, especially as related to the environment. YTM publications (Sangadji 1994,

15 Besides being based on interviews with elders at Lindu and with Drs. Arianto Sangadji, the head of YTM, this section also summarizes (all too briefly) the bound collection of 161 newspaper clippings collected by WALHI (n.d.) on the Lindu PLTA case, as well as material in Sangaji (2000).

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok 1996) have thus emphasized how To Lindu adat functions as a community-based resource management system. For example, Laudjeng (1994) outlines how the Lindu plain is partitioned into a number of indigenously specified land-use domains (suaka [T]) that function to promote the ‘conservation of the region’; outsiders who wish to make use of such land must seek permission from To Lindu custodians and even then may only put it to uses allowed by adat. My own investigations (August 2000) revealed a division of uncultivated land into two main types, pancua ntodea [T] and pancua maradika [T] (ntodea and maradika refer to the commoner and noble stratum respectively.) Whereas the former land is open to all for cultivation or gathering firewood or rattan and similar tasks, its use reuqires permission of the local nobles. The latter type of suaka is primarily for the use of the nobles, for exmple, for grazing their livestodk, but commoners, should they own large livestork, could ask permission of the nobles of a village to graze their cattle on the pancua maradika and once again to remove the cattle from it after grazing. Other subsidiary types of suaka also existed, such as village commons (suaka ngata). Failure to observe the restrictions for each land type would result in being fined (ragiwu [T]) by the local village adat council, the predominant form of sanction for most all transgressions (Acciaioli, 2002). This system of monitoring land use was explicitly presented to me as an instance of indigenous provisions for protecting the environment from degradation through overgrazing and other damaging practices.

Other types of land designated as the preserves of local guardian spirits (tana viata [T]) may not be subjected to any forms of exploitation, whether opening gardens for coffee or cacao or chopping down trees to obtain wood for building canoes or for other construction purposes. Even when their Salvation Army convictions lead them to doubt the status of viata, middle-aged and younger members of the To Lindu community now present such interdiction as evidence of the local ecological wisdom encoded in adat institutions. As many of these indigenous sacred areas are located in the surrounding forest, these informants point to the function of tana viata, and the encompassing system of suaka in which it finds its place, in preserving watershed areas and thus inhibiting erosion and the sedimentation that has been decreasing the depth of Lake Lindu, as evidenced by its noticeably receding shoreline. Indeed, some To Lindu explicitly point to the neglect of these prohibitions by migrants to the area who cut down forests and open up coffee and cacao gardens heedless of To Lindu prohibitions as contributing to the increasing shallowness of the lake and the streams feeding into it. Local developers arguing for the erection of the new, 18

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok environmentally less destructive hydroelectric scheme and for a water cleansing installation just below it to provide potable water for Palu have had to accommodate in their plans how tana suaka [T] under the jurisdiction of the To Lindu adat councils would be preserved. The To Lindu, in cooperation with their NGO allies, have thus experienced considerable success in reasserting their rights, based on their claimed ancestral connection to their land and their ecological wisdom in preserving its resources (Li 2000, p.164) against the imposition of development schemes, both limiting the regulations of the encompassing Lore-Lindu National Park and thwarting the incursion of a hydro-electric scheme that would have forced their resettlement.

Transitions: New Orientations, New Conflicts

As exemplifed by the case of To Lindu cooperation with Yayasan Tanah Merdeka throughout the 90s, NGO activism throughout this period in Central Sulawesi was oriented to such issues as supporting, and often spearheading, the claims of these ‘indigenous societies’ to land. However, more recently, these NGOs have declared a change in orientation in reaction to such conditions as the continuing failure of the Indonesian economy to recover after the krismon following in the wake of the collapse of the Thai baht in 1997. As explained to me bythe former secretary-general of AMASUTA, the provincial umbrella organisation erected in the wake of the general AMAN congress originally to facilitate organisation of the campaigns of ‘indigenous societies’ in Central Sulawesi, the focus is now on farmers in general rather than just ‘customary societies’. In his view issues relating to land and environment were more general problems of the economy concerning the capacity of farmers as a whole rather than just the members of ‘customary societies’. Poverty in general was the problem; gaining control of land was only one aspect of addressing this wider economic issue, and it was a need for farmers in general. He now regarded AMASUTA as an `organisation for the people’ (organisasi rakyat) rather than just a forum for such local customary societies as the To Lindu, although much of the work in which it engaged tended still to be in the area of facilitating the formation of ‘customary councils’ for peoples considered to be ‘indigenous’.

However, the wider scope of concern of such NGOs is revealed in such cases as DongiDongi, on the northwestern boundary of TNLL. What distinguishes this controversy (Abbas et al. 2002)

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok from previous ones regarding peoples like the Behoa Kakau of Katu (Sangaji 2002) is the ‘nonindigenous’ status of the occupiers of DongiDongi. These occupiers hail from the four villages of Kadidia, Rahmat, Kamarora A and Kamarora B, located further to the southwest from the DongiDongi site of occupation off the road leading through the Palolo upland plain down to Biromaru in the Palu Valley near the northern boundary of TNLL. As the designations A and B betray for two of them, these are not long-settled villages; rather they are largely inhabited by resettlers from various montane regions surrounding the Palu Valley, prominent among them TopoDa’a from Marawola subdistrict, mainly (70% by one estimate) the Pakawa region, in the mountains to the west of Palu, To Winatu and To Pipikoro from what has just been founded as a new subdistrict, Pipikoro, formerly comprising the southernmost region of Kulawi subdistrict. These peoples had been moved to Palolo as part of the programs for the the Resettlement of the `Isolated Peoples' (Pemukiman Kembali Masyarakat Terasing [I] or PKMT), where a remote or `isolated people' is officially defined as a `people or a group of people whose habitats/residences are located 24 hours or more in traveling time from a provincial capital city measured by using public transportation' (Depagri, Dirjen Bangdes 1992) Following in the tradition of Dutch programs to move mountain peoples, including the To Lindu, in the first decades of the twentieth century, this program had begun in independent Indonesia in the 1950s, but had only intensified in the 1970s under the direction of the Department of Social Affairs (Departemen Sosial or Depsos) after the imposition of the New Order (Haba 1999). The seventies and eighties witnessed the efflorescence of this program in Central Sulawesi, with the majority of the populations of these municipal villages (desa) in the Palolo upland valley, formerly an area under the control of Biromaru but now a subdistrict on its own, being populated under the auspices of this program.

Given their transposition from their homelands by this program, such resettlers would have difficulty being classified as customary societies according to even the criteria definition put forth as a working definition at a workshop of the Network for the Defence of Customary Societies (Jaringan Pembelaan Hak-Hak Masyarakat Adat or JapHama) in Tana Toraja in 1993:

social groups that have ancestral origins (which have persisted for generations) in a specific geographical region, along with possessing a value system, ideology, economy, politics, culture, society and region [i.e. territory] of their own' (KMAN 1999b)

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok And, certainly, the land they are occupying in DongiDongi cannot be respresented as their long- held customary land, denying them the basis claimed by other groups for continuing control of land in and around TNLL (Sangaji 2001). In fact, they justify their occupation, in part, on other grounds, noting that although this land is now part of TNLL, it was formerly part of the logging concession (Hak Pengelolaan Hutan or HPH) of PT Kebun Sari, a joint venture with a Japanese logging firm, and is primarily covered by secondary forest; this coverage by secondary forest they use to dispute the importance of the region as a core zone within TNLL. In addition, many members of the resettlement communities from which the DongiDongi occupiers hail once worked for this company in order to gain an income to support themselves. This latter fact leads to their other argument for occupation: the failure of the Social Affairs Department to have delivered on its promises for the resettlement communities. The resettlers claim that they have not been accorded the 2 ha of agricultural land promised for each family head by Depsos, and their claims have been supported by such NGOs as WALHI Sulteng and YTM. According to a survey underwritten by these NGOs, the resettlers had only received between .5 and .8 ha of land per family under the terms of resettlement; in fact 80 of 177 farmers surveyed in Rahmat were altogether landless, with other information suggesting up to 200 families are without land in this village (Sangaji 2002, p. 15). In addition, land that they had used for gathering rattan and for hunting to supplement their diet, given their inability to subsist on the land actually allotted to them under the PKMT program, was subsequently declared part of TNLL, eliminating those sources of subsistence and income that had allowed them to survive despite this inadequate agricultural land allocation. Many of those who had previously worked for PT Kebun Sari had entered the concession land after the company vacated it in order to plant coffee and cacao; some had actually opened gardens while working for the Japanese logging company. For them, such opening of land gave them ownership, by the terms of the right of first clearing recognised widely in the customary land tenure systems of the societies of highland western Central Sulawesi (e.g. for the To Kulawi of Mataue, as documented by Sangaji et al. 2004, p. 60). Even for those willing to forsake these gardens, the replacement land they had been promised by the government as TNLL took over this land had never materialised.

WALHI Sulteng and YTM have also been instrumental in facilitating the formation and activities of the Free Farmers’ Forum (Forum Petani Merdeka or FPM) to fight for their claims on the DongiDongi area, including a demonstration at the governor’s complex on 19 June 2001. 21

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok As the very name of that forum suggests, their support is no longer based on claims of the rights of ‘customary societies’ to their indigenous land, but on the economic implications for poor farmers of government development programs, such as the resettlement scheme and the granting of concessions to outside firms. The FPM’s demand that DongiDongi be granted enclave status to parallel those accorded such ‘customary societies’ as the To Lindu and To Katu thus rest on very different grounds than these earlier contestations.

To date their claims have gained little sympathy from either the government or the TNLL park managers, although some officials from the Department of Forestry and from the provincial government, which has no authority in national park areas, have endorsed their claim. Despite the demonstration in front of this office, the Governor of Central Sulawesi issued on 18 August 2001 an order for DongiDongi to be vacated, while, not to be undone, the Bupati of Donggala Regency gave the police three days to empty DongiDongi of these ‘squatters’, another order which failed in implementation. The park director also requested a police investigation of another NGO working with the Free Farmers’ Forum, the People’s Legal Aid Society (Yayasan Bantuan Hukum Rakyat or YBHK). In interviews I conducted in June of 2002, both the park director and TNC officials in Palu voiced their continuing opposition to any granting of enclave status, noting the lack of any true settlement in the Dongi-Dongi area and the unregulated cutting down of the forest in which the occupants, including Bugis chain-saw operators who had followed in the wake of the original Da’a and Pipikoro settlers from the resettlement villages in Palolo, were involved. The occupiers themselves had labelled their settlement with the traditional name Ngata Katupua (Settlement of Hope or Tanah Harapan) and allocated land in blocks corresponding to each of the four villages in Palolo providing occupants. The continuing opposition of the park management and its partner TNC has prompted the director of one opposing NGO to label these resource management organisations as engaged in program of ‘eco-fascism’ (Sangaji 2002, p. 16).

In the wake of past controversies and especially given the continuing stalemate of the DongiDongi controversy, local NGO advocates have called into question the very concept of conservation they regard as the basis of such institutions as national parks. In fact, national parks and similar preserves are seen as conforming to the same mould as development projects that have stripped customary societies of their land and rights. What they see as real conservation is

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok the indigenous systems land use that have maintained a balance with sylvan environments throughout the centuries preceding government incursions into their lands through such channels as development projects, (Sangaji 2001, p. 14, 2002, p. 16), including transmigration, and the granting of concessions for logging, plantations, and other concerns. The director of the Central Sulawesi WALHI office declared that national parks, such as TNLL, were historically from the West and did not fit a process of historical growth that was quite different in countries like Indonesia. With the New Order’s history of granting logging concessions to its cronies in national parks and reserves throughout Indonesia, it was simply unjust to consider the cutting down of trees by people like the DongiDongi occupants as illegal, since it was just another instance of blaming local societies (what Sangaji has also labelled the mechanism of ‘scapegoating’ such societies as kambing hitam). Why have firms supplying Palu’s 124 sawmills with logs from throughout the surrounding forests, many of them illegally obtained, not been prosecuted, while such stringent actions are urged upon the impoverished occupants of DongiDongi? To them it is an issue not of conservation, but of agrarian social justice, tired as they are of seeing only the ‘small people’ blamed for such issues as deforestation. As advocates from local NGOs such as WALHI Sulteng and Yayasan Tanah Merdeka agree, authority to monitor resource use must be given to local societies, as they are the ones whose systems of forest use have never been valued, despite centuries of sustainable use before the onslaught of development projects. For such advocates human occupation and preservation of environment are not incompatible, as long as that occupation is based upon traditional modes of land management, even when practised by people no longer living in their homelands.

New Forms of Co-Management: Conservation Agreements as a Response Although still viewing such arguments for the sufficiency of sustainable use along customary grounds as insufficient to carry through the project of sustaining biodiversity, such organizations as TNC have responded with their own innovations to increase the commitment of surrounding stakeholders to the conservation regulations of TNLL, including the continuing commitment to a model of zonation requiring strict exlusion from core zones (zona inti), limited exploitation of materials in forest zones (zona rimba), and limited production in use zones (zona pemanfaatan) . New forms of co-management agreements with local society members have constituted one form of such response, a response that has sought to encompass a greater number of inhabitants than

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok just the ‘indigenous peoples’ that had been the target of earlier overtures. But such steps require a brief overview of the history of such agreements in the region.

A number of nongovermental organizations have been involved in the setting up of conservation agreements in the region of TNLL, and each has taken a different approach. One of the very first was the Palu-based NGO YTM, which brokered a conservation agreement between the Katu society and the TNLL management as part of the granting of enclave status to the Katu people, allowing them to maintain their stable swidden regimen within the boundaries of TNLL (Mappatoba and Birner 2004, p. 26; Sangaji 2002b). Following that model, YTM has also facilitated conservation agreements with a two other villages surrounding the park, and in each case the emphasis has been upon the recognition of indigenous rights in regard to land and other resources in return for the community carrying out such activities as patrolling for rattan theft from parkland. In contrast, a second organization facilitating such agreements has been the international relief and development organization CARE. In contrast to YTM’s focus, CARE’s emphasis has been upon the provision of rural development, including agricultural extension and infrastructure provision. Rules pertaining to conservation practices were developed only as a part of a general set of procedural rules for the village as an implicit prerequisite for the provision of development services facilitated by CARE. Given this focus on commuity development, CARE has tended to work with the formal village government, the kepala desa and the aparat desa, rather following YTM’s practice of dealing primiarily with customary institutions, such as the customary council (Lembaga (H)Adat). However, after having overseen some dozen such agreements, CARE ceased to be involved in such transactions, instead providing funds to a local sister organisationYayasan Yambata, which began the process of overseeing contracts in five villages where the protection of the Maleo bird and its eggs constituted a major challenge. In contrast to CARE’s focus, Yambata has followed lines more similar to YTM in focussing upon customary institutions to oversee such contracts.

More recent have the been the efforts of the Central Sulawesi Integrated Area Development and Conservation Project (CSIADCP), a long-term plan of rural development and conservation initiatives funded by the Asian Development Bank, to oversee the drawing up of such agreements. Initially, under conditions set by the Asian Development Bank, CSIADCP had supported plans to resettle indigenous groups like the Katu out of conservation areas, but after the

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok Park Director’s according of enclave status to the Katu community it was forced to re-orient its policies. Beginning soon after the turn of the millennium, CSIADCP began a process of arranging conservation agreements with 60 villages in the vicinity of TNLL, though most of those agreements were not formalised until May 2004. And even given the lengthy development period, CSIADCP officials admit that these agreements constitute only an ‘entry point’, having been based only on consultations and workshops of one day’s length in each village. The agreements have a standard title – Kesepekatan Konservasi Masyarakat Adat Desa X Kecamatan A or Conservation Agreement of the Customary Village X in Subdistrict A) and follow a standard format, giving the laws and regulations that form its legal basis, listing its aims – which in most cases are oriented primarily to ensuring the free flow of watercourses and continuous provisioning of fresh water – listing the contracting parties – members of the customary community (masyarakat adat), customary functionaries (tokoh adat), religious functionaries, social functionaries (i.e. the governmental apparatus) – with perhaps a map showing the location of the village relative to TNLL attached, and then listing the contents of the agreement, which merely re-specify in slightly greater detail the aims, and then finally listing the signatories. To take but one example, the contents of the specific agreement with the customary community of Pilimakujawa in Kulawi subdistrict were as follows:

III The Content of the Agreement A. To maintain the conservation of the ecosystem of the river basin area and not to cut trees in the vicinity of the Water intake or the rivers’ flood plains. B. To maintain and raise the level of sanitation of the sources of clean water in the vicinity of the intake so that there does not occur any contamination of the clean water C. To put into effect customary sanctions against transgressions D. This conservation agreement is made by the people of the village in their respective capacities and is signed by a representative of adat functionaries, society functionaries, religious functionaries, a youth representative, a women’s representative, the head of the village customary council, the head of the village representive body (BPD).

(Fasilitasi FWP-TNLL, CSIADCP [Central Sulawesi Integrated Area Development and Conservation Program] Lore Lindu. Kesepakatan Konservasi Masyarakat Adat Desa Pilimakujawa, Kecamatan Kulawi. Pilimakujawa, Mei 2004)

The following page of the agreement lists the categories of customary sanctions and the cash equivalents decided upon to substitute for fines that traditionally were paid in sets of water buffalo, brass plates (dulang), and traditional cloths (mbesa), reiterating that the decision of the level of fines to be paid by transgressors are to be set by local customary council (lembaga adat). 25

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok The final page before the signatures constitutes a specification of customary transgressions and the customary sanctions applied to them, in the case of the Pilimakujawa agreement an expansion of point C. of the contents as follows:

The Management System of the River Basin as Local Wisdom:

Prohibition on cutting down trees along 23 listed river courses, noting especially their upriver sections (hulu sungai): Types of regulations and Adat Prohitibions a. Replanting with annual plants that have an economic value b. Cannot open or add new fields c. Prohibited to use electric currents or potassium [cyanide] d. Prohibited to cut down trees e. Prohibited to use traps for wild animals f. Prohibted to use air rifles g. Using wood for construction can only be with the prermission of the Adat Council/Government h. Undertaking reseach has to be with permission of the Adat Council/Government and the results of the research have to be reported to the village. i. Prohibited to take wood or anything else from the locations of others without permission.

What is most apparent from such an example, besides the conservation focus on water quality issues, is the social focus on local ‘indigenous people’ (masyarakat adat or ‘customary community’). This focus aligns these agreements with those facilitated by YTM and Yambata, all of which presume a relative homogeneity of the contracting community and the continuing authority of the customary council as adjudicator of transgressions. Yet, such a presumption is precisely what has been called into question by contestations of park authority like DongiDongi, where settlers in the area have been those most active in transgressing park regulations.

The Nature Conservancy has taken a very different tack in drawing up its conservation agreements in the vicinity of TNLL. Beginning at about the same time as CSIADCP, as of 2004 TNC has managed to initiate 14 conservation agreements, with 5 of them completed and approved by the TNLL management office (Mappatoba and Birner 2004, p. 18). These first agreements were transacted in Lore Utara on the eastern side of the park, and have already been the subject of review (Khaeruddin 2002). What I want to concentrate on here is the more recent (i.e. March 2005) agreement entered into with the four villages of the Lindu plain,

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok whose surrounding lands constitute an enclave within TNLL (Desa Puroo, Langko, Tomado dan Anca 2005 Kesepakatan Konservasi Masyarakat Dataran Lindu, Kecamatan Kulawi, Kapubaten Donggala). As Mappatobe and Birner (2004, p. 28) have noted, TNC has taken a very different tack from other organizations facilitating such agreements. While working with both customary functionaries and administrative village officials, it has sought to form new village organizations to deal with the issue of local-level monitoring and enforcement of conservation regulations, especially encroachment of gardens for coffee, cacao and other cash crops within the park and harvesting of forest products, not only timber, but such non-timber products as rattan. But there have been transitions in its orientation as well, as it has moved away from a position of brokering between communities and other organisations and projects providing development services and infrastructure for community development in the periphery of the park, insisting on commitment to observing conservation rules in exchange for prosvision of such services as drinking water and marketing assistance for organically grown coffee. More recently, in accordance with its interpreation of Forest Act No. 41/1999 on community participation in forestry, it has linked community commitment to conservation to Park management recognition of customary rights, including accessing products from customary land (tanah adat) now claimed as part of the national park.

The 2005 ‘conservation agreement with the society of the Lindu plain’, while similar in basic format to those transacted by CSIADCP contracts, reveals a sophistication and range that far transcends such earlier agreements. Its section of basic considerations (Menimbang…) succinctly sets forth the basic principles of biodiversity conservation, asserting the interdependence of all living beings (makhluk hidup) on earth, positioning humanity as only one link in the great chain of life: ‘On the basis of such thinking, it is clear that conservation efforts to preserve the sustainability of life for particular living beings constitutes indirectly an effort to preserve the continuing life of humankind’ (Kesepakatan Konservasi Masyarakat Dataran Lindu Kecamatan Kulawi Kabupaten Donggala [hereafter Kesepakatan Lindu], p. 1). While asserting the setting up of national parks as a measure to combat the increasing rate of extinctions in this chain, it admits that the placing of park boundaries was a unilateral action taken without consultation, resulting not only in losses to the interests of local inhabitants, but also the failure of conservation programs as a consequence. It recognizes the prior existence of ‘customary land / communal use / and living space for the societies of the area who have resided there continuously, long before the 27

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok existence of the national park’ (Kesepakatan Lindu, p. 1), signalling respect for these, but also the need to balance these with the preservation of biodiversity for the sake of the sustainability of all life as a whole in a way that is acceptable to all parties to the agreement. Balancing respect for the rights of the societies in the vicinity of the park with the control and management of natural resources is proclaimed as the fundamental project underlying the conservation agreement. The two following sections of the agreement quote a much wider range of laws and regulations related not only to conservation but also basic human rights and agrarian issues than other conservation agreements, and list the meetings and consultations that have led to the agreement.

The actual chapters (bab) of the agreement – space precludes the listing of their contents in detail – seek a balance between the acknowledgement of customary institutions, such as the Adat Council of the Entire Lindu Plain and those of the 4 respective villages and the assertion of the authority of the national park institutions. The document proclaims its commitment to a ‘participatory management planning’ (perencanaan pengelolaan partisipatif) process, but also insists on the park framework of zonation, though opening up the possibility of subsequent determination of boundaries of zones on a participatory basis, blancing both ecological and social considerations. Besides these basic principles and general stipulations, specific paragraphs determine the limitations on felling trees (e.g. for house decorations, customary rituals, etc.) , taking rattan, hunting, gathering damar, and taking other natural resources – bamboo, enau sap (for palm toddy and sugar), roots and herbs for traditional medicines, stones and sand, honey, and others – opening up land for gardens, grazing livestock, and dealing with water courses – in park land, opening the possibility for further development of these stipulations in accord with the basic principles.

However, what is perhaps most important in this regard is the specification of institutions for the carrying out of this agreement. Even in its early specification of contributing discussions to the formation of the agreement, it made no differentiation between the adat councils of Anca, Langko, and Tomado, villages all dominated by indigneous To Lindu, and the adat council of Puroo, which is exclusively made up of settlers from elsewhere in Kulawi subdistrict. In contrast to the approaches of YTM, Yaphama, and CSIADCP, which focussed only on the indigenous groups (masyarakat adat) of the area, the TNC agreement is meant to encompass settlers as well. This encompassment is made clearer in the specification of the ‘village conservation

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok organisations’ (lembaga konservasi desa or LKD) in Chapter 6, paragraphs 21 and 22, of the agreement. The LKD are labelled as ‘the institutions that represent society in conservation efforts in TNLL at the village level’, and function to: a. Provide an umbrella for communication between the Society and the Park Management of the Lore Lindu National Park b. Socialize the Conservation Agreement of the Society of the Lindu Plain to the society c. Carry out participatory planning with the Park Management of the Lore Lindu National Park d. Supervise the carrying out of the Conservations Agreement e. Evaluate the carrying out of the Conservation Agreement f. Report on the results of the evaluation of the Conservation Agreement to the Village Headman

The LKD are formed ‘on the basis of the Decision of the Village Head in accordance with the results of village consultations that have been attended by the Park Management of Lore Lindu National Park, the Village Government, the Village Representative Body, the Adat Council and other members of the society’ ((Kesepakatan Lindu, p. 7) with members serving for three years.16 However, much like the other agreements reviewed earlier, responsibility for adjudicating transgressions and administering punishments – in traditional terms – is allocated to the adat councils of the plain, though to be transacted in the presence of park management staff, the village government apparatus, the village representative body (BPD), and the LKD. Disputes among village members that are related to the conservation agreement are also to be settled by the customary councils. In the final paragraph devoted to ‘miscellaneous matters’ (lain-lain), the aim of the agreement is clearly stated as constituting an endeavour to ‘obtain acknowledgement of its [the local society’s] management of natural resources in the customary territory that is located within the region of the Lore Lindu National Park’ – a clear statement, at least on paper, that the notion of customary territory is to be respected, with practical consequences of

16 The immediately succeeding paragraphs set out in analgous terms the composition and function of the ‘Buffer Zone Forum’ (Forum Wilayah Penyangga or FWP), an institution originally set up under the auspices of CSIADCP to deal with more widely relevant issues at the subdistrict (kecamatan) level, such as disputes regarding conservation between villages. As the Lindu participants do not wish to be subject to this subdistrict level institution, these paragraphs are likely to be deleted or amended in subsequent deliberations over revisions to the agreement. 29

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok management flowing from this recognition, and is not superseded by the imposition of National Park status upon such territory.17

Institutionalising (and Undermining?) the Village Conservation Organisations This Lindu conservation agreement is notable for its potential encompassment of all the ethnic groups within the Lindu plain in regard to issues of conservation enforcement, though still relying on the customary mechanisms of the dominant ‘indigenous society’ (the To Lindu, strictly speaking) in the adjudication of cases of infractions. It is thus both located beyond and within the customary framework. Certain contradictions ensue from this double positioning. These same contradictions characterize the operation of the village conservation organisations, as the main local agents of monitoring and enforcing compliance with the conservation regulations of the park, but with an eye to the upholding of customary regulations as well. In theory, the membership of the LKD is open to members of all ethnic groups in the plain. Indeed, the membership from Puroo is composed of Kulawi settlers, while representatives from Kanawu – the hamlet of the village Tomado on the eastern side of the lake with a large part of its population composed of Bugis settlers from South Sulawesi, Pipikoro resettlers (local transmigrants) from the mountainous regions of southern Kulawi, as well as, more recently, Toraja farmers from the northern highlands of South Sulawesi – include members from these migrant ethnic groups. Yet, the most significant portion of the LKD is made up of indigenous Lindu members, many of them also members of the adat councils of the Lindu plain, whose own composition is exclusively made up of indigenous local aristocrats (maradika). Their double role sets up a tension of representation, as they both promote the LKD as an organisation to uphold conservation regulations for the whole Lindu enclave, as prescribed by park directives, and also use it as an instrument to declare their precedential rights to land and resources as indigenous To Lindu in the Lindu plain, as conceptualised in indigenous notions of ancestral territory.

17 The agreement itself was accompanied by ‘decision docments’ from each of the four village headmen of the Lindu plain, marking a clear parallel to the need for ‘regional implementing regulations’ (peraturan daerah) for any laws (undang- undang) to take effect locally.

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok This has been evident in the activities of the LKD to date. The Lindu village conservation organisations were actually functioning before the formal signing of the Lindu conservation agreement on 30 March, 2005. Indeed, their first activity as a group took place in early 2004, when they were taken by TNC staff to visit the areas of the Palolo plain devastated by the December 2003 floods, which TNC claimed were a result of the widespread felling of trees by the occupiers in the DongiDongi region.18 Armed with this evidence of the environmental consequences of the neglect of conservation regulations – in this case, the occupation of a core zone, so designated in part because of its watershed functions – representatives of the LKD of three of the Lindu villages (there was no representation from Anca, for external reasons) journeyed with a TNC representative, a forestry policeman (PPA/Polhut), and the village secretary of Tomado to this village’s hamlet of Kanawu, on the eastern shore of the lake, where numerous incursions had been noted, encroachments of gardens moving up the slopes of Mt Nokilalaki into national parkland beyond the boundaries of the Lindu enclave, especially among the Toraja settlers of Sangali, but also the longer term Pipikoro residents and others in Katiboli, the two most remote subhamlets of Kanawu. The team’s activities commenced on the evening of 17 May 2004 with a meeting with selected representatives of Kanawu, setting out the motivations of the stay and planning the survey of the regions of encroachment in parkland the next day, followed by the undertaking of the survey to Sangali and to various gardens in parkland above the Lombosa River, whose opening higher on the slopes had been blamed for the flooding of the river and the inadequacy of water in the dry season for the wet rice fields which had long been established by Bugis migrants and indigenous Lindu farmers in the lower reaches of Kanawu extending down to within a couple hundred meters of the shore of Lake Lindu. The team’s visit ended with a public meeting on the evening of that second day, 18 May, in which the purpose and results of the day’s survey were announced and the possibility of actions against those whose gardens encroached national parkland were discussed.

What was most interesting perhaps were the ways in which the need to deal with such transgressions was framed by various team members, revealing overtly a converging of interests,

18 WALHI – Sulteng, along with other NGOs in Palu such as YTM, has disputed that the floods were indeed caused or exacerbated by the occupation of DongiDongi, noting that, historically, flooding has been periodic in the Palolo Valley. However, the scale of the December 2003 flood far exceeded these earlier floods, and I am inclined to accept TNC’s argument and evidence that the occupation of DongiDongi did indeed account for the scale of that flooding. See the interchange between Sangadji and Acciaioli in the October 2004 issue of Inside Indonesia (Acciaioli 2004: 7). 31

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok and a moulding of a unified constituency, but covertly a continuing claim to precedential land and resource rights by the indigenous To Lindu members who also represented the adat councils of the plain. The TNC facilitator began the first night’s meeting by emphasising the need to ensure the sustainability (keberlanjutan) of the natural resources of the Lindu plain, and the role of the LKD in their management, a theme he sustained in his encounters with transgressing farmers during the day and with the general assembly on the second night. Constantly, he tried to maintain focus on the development potential of the area, and the need for assuring a constant water supply to realize this potential, a supply which depended crucially on the preservation of the surrounding forest. And in this enunciation he was constantly supported by the government representative, Tomado village secretary:

Firstly, what makes up our aim is nothing other than how we can manage well this region of protected forest that we have in our territory…it is our hope from the [village] government that we can all do the good thing for continuing to keep watch over the region that we inhabit together, so that it continues to be preserved. Let us manage it, keep watch over (menjaga) it, let us carry out our activities, both in our gardens and our wet rice fields in ways that are environmentally friendly [ramah lingkungan]. That’s all, that’s our hope which I convey from the village government at this time…

Indeed, the policing function of the LKD within the overall management strategy was reinforced by several speakers. And this was often in the context of preserving the environment for the sake of future generations:

We are looking out for the coming generation we want to preserve, to conserve this environment for the coming generation, so that our generations which will be coming do not revile us, do not blame us…Where else can we go? (Mau ke mana lagi kita?)

Such general consideration of the importance of the local society conserving the environment provided the constant refrain interspersed among the more specific discussions of the need for a coordinator of the separate LKD of the four villages, for clear procedures to deal with encroachments into parkland, and other practical matters.

However, the head of the LKD from Langko, whose prominent role in the adat council of that village was also referred to when his representative capacities were invoked upon his being invited to speak, also revealed the play of another agenda.

While eloquently discoursing upon how the devastation in DongiDongi exemplified the fate of 32

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok those who opposed government regulations19, he also used this example to argue strongly that Kanawu should not be formalised as a separate administrative village (desa) – long a project of the Bugis settlers there, with considerable support from some Pipikoro local transmigrants, wishing to get out from under the authority of the adat council in Tomado – but instead Kanawu should be kept within the fold of Tomado administrative village so as to more effectively guard against illegal migrants, some of them doubtlessly fleeing the environmental ruination in Palolo, in Kanawu, Lindu’s most vulnerable illegal entry point: ‘Let this not be like a roll of string that has unraveled and cannot be wound back [into a unified roll]’. In making this appeal, he was quick to label all those present as Lindu people, ‘because we are all, because Lindu, we all possess Lindu, not just the [indigenous] Lindu people, but all people at Lindu, we possess this all, because we have all lived here…’ However, his agenda of maintaining the dominant position of the indigenous Lindu people in the conservation endeavour remained, despite the appeal to the unity of all inhabitants of the Lindu plain. The TNC facilitator attempted to emphasise the ‘synergy’ of customary and park management interests:

‘That’s my opinion, thus for the future, if nothing else, for our conservaton agreement, if nothing else, we have to unify the conservaton of customary forest with the conservation of the Lore Lindu National Park forest. That’s what we have to bring together. That’s the most important thing. I think that here, between the naional park and customary territory, there’s a single unity that we have to preserve, together. There’s no difference here, because the customary territory that we have to watch over, that’s also the territory of the National Park that we have to watch over. In order to watch over the activities of the peoples who are in the village. That’s all.

While overtly in agreement with such assertions by the TNC facilitator, who later also spoke of the need to align the indigenous Lindu customary ‘zoning’ according to suaka with the national park zonation scheme, the head of the Langko LKD was also capable of expanding this theme in a direction that emphasized the prior rights of the indigenous To Lindu to this territory:

So, my thoughts concerning the customs of my ancestors, this is all adat lands. If I speak, I have ancestors who lived here in this Olu, for Olu is its name, not Kanawu or anything else, but Olu. So, if I recite the names of all these settlements, I know them all proceeding to Kangkuro, Salumpalili, Tumawu, Tawaiki, Salu Suo, Banbaria, Boya, Lewonu, Sangali, Tae Lampanga, Tae Ropo. I know them all, because of what? Because my ancestors from time immemorial have lived here, my ancestors from time immemorial have sacrificed to extinction their livestock, because of this plain. But now the regulations are different. Gentlemen, my brothers and sisters who have come here, now we no longer think of only ourselves, we

19 Throughout all his speeches during this visit, including to individual farmers at their gardens, he included the refrain that the people whose lands were devastated in DongiDongi and the Palolo Valley were now just bodies (badan saja), without souls (jiwa) any longer, as their lives had been used up (kehabisan hidup) 33

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok think of all of you, Bugis fathers, Toraja fathers, Kantewu fathers, we speak of all of you as Lindu people. And now once we speak of Lindu people in general, then how should we orient our thoughts to preserving this environment, how do we orient our thoughts so that we are all the same, all of us have approximately the same land, so that none of us inhabitants has too much land, that is my proposal…

In this passage, the To Lindu elder adroitly moves from an assertion of prior rights to the land on his part as an indigenous To Lindu, since his ancestors had sacrificed the blood of their livestock upon it (all in an indigenous conservation effort to prevent the effects of overgrazing, as he noted at a later point) and he could still recite the real, the original, names of all the customary territories on the eastern side of the lake, to an acceptance of all those now settled in the Lindu plain, indigenous and migrant, as equally Lindu people. But this assertion of equality is used then to support the demand of the indigenous Lindu adat council of the Lindu plain that no Lindu inhabitant may cultivate more than 2 hectares of land, a measure aimed squarely at the Bugis and Kulawi settlers, some of whom had opened up to 12 hectares if all their plots devoted to coffee, cacao and other crops were counted (Acciaioli 2001b). So, even in his assertion of contemporary equality, as innocently proclaimed by the TNC facilitator, this wily Lindu elder is able to advance the project of insuring the customary control of land by the indigenous Lindu adat council. By further linking erosion as a punishment from God with the careless extension of plots beyond what the adat council stipulated, he manages as well to supply ultimate religious undergirding to the wisdom of the indigenous customary council and its members’ noble ancestors: ‘Thus, those people of former times may not have gone to school, but they understood, and hey had been given indications by the Lord so that they acted in a way to preserve Lindu’.

Interestingly, in his comments to individual transgressing farmers, this To Lindu elder made ready use of idioms of the New Order government, in particular of the rhetoric of the Department of Social Affairs (Departemen Sosial or Depsos). The farmers of Sangali, dispersed in their field huts scattered throughout the forest, were ‘wild farmers’ (petani liar) or ‘nomadic swidden farmers’ (peladang berpindah-pindah), opening up land in one spot, then bestowing it upon an incoming relative (issues of illegal entry again!), and moving on up the mountain to open up other plots deeper in the forest, specifically the forest of the National Park. He noted how they had to become like the other farmers of Kanawu, who neatly arranged their plots concentrated next to each other in a wide expanse, where one could see one’s neighbours for two kilometers or more:

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok Because here in Kanawu, I say that the Bugis, the Kantewu [i.e. Pipikoro] people, all these people are visible, even as far as two kilometers one can see humanity, aaaah! This is what we want, living together!

The continuity of such rhetoric is perhaps understandable, for the Lindu people themselves had formerly been assimilated to the status of suku/masyarakat terasing (‘most isolated societies/tribes’) during the New Order, since the Lindu plain was only accessible by horse trail and located far from medical and other ‘civilised’ facilities. But what is remarkable is that this assertion of the need to render the Sangali populace ‘visible’, as a concentrated whole, refers not to state projects of rendering a subject population visible, as Scott (1998) has so perspicaciously analysed in such examples as the ujamaa resettlement villages of Africa (and the resettlement projects of Depsos in Indonesia, including those moving populations to both the Palolo and Lindu upland plains are comparable), but to the continuing need for surveillance by not just the LKD as agents of conservation interests, but by the Lindu adat councils as maintainers of Lindu hegemonic dominance in the area, as the main custodians of the Lindu environment as warranted by precedence of settlement and their conception of immemorial custom.

On the face of it, such assertions could be interpreted as more strictly in the interests of the conservation agenda of the National Park authorities and the village government apparatus working with them. But the connection of such assertions to the To Lindu agenda seeking to use the LKD to further their own ethnic group’s interests became even more apparent at a meeting of the provincial-level indigenous people’s organisation, AMASUTA (Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Sulawesi Tengah) held in the village of Langko some three months later to discuss the problems faced by indigenous people in the Lindu plain. At that meeting many of the same players who had spoken in the capacity of representing the LKD chose to speak instead in their capacity as Lindu elders. Most emphasised the necessity for the To Lindu adat council, as the official representative body of the ‘indigenous people’ (masyarakat adat) of the plain to retain the control of such activities as the management of fishing in the lake by all fishermen, whether To Lindu, Bugis or of another ethnic group. While considerable discussion did centre upon the problems of deciding upon the respective domains of the various adat councils of the Lindu village, the ultimate authority within the Lindu plain of this type of institution was not questioned. And in this regard the need to bring all inhabitants into line with the adat stipulation of limiting each person’s land to 2 ha. was once more emphasized. In fact, the very Lindu elder who had spoken as the head of the Langko LKD emphasised how the National Park had appropriated customary 35

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok land in its allotment of land to the park, and wondered out loud whether such land was not better managed by traditional means rather than through institutions of the National Park. Indeed, as one participant opined, perhaps the best solution to problems encountered with the TNLL management office was simply to claim back all the park land so it reverted to its customary owners. Even the head of the Langko adat council suggested that if necessary for the council’s continued functioning, the national park land should just be claimed back. He considered that the LKD was too limited by the restrictions imposed by the park management office, and the To Lindu customary council might be freer to act with determination in preserving the local environment without it. Hence, when placed in the context of discussing the empowerment of their own indigenous institutions, the commitment that Lindu elders had shown for the TNC- organised village conservation organisations seemed rather to evaporate, revealing a different locus of continuing indigenous loyalty.

Conclusions Ironically, the very park regarded as the origin of the national park paradigm of exclusion that has dominated the world as a model throughout much of the twentieth century and on into the twenty-first century was itself not initially denuded of local inhabitants. Throughout the first years of Yellowstone National Park, Tukarika Shoshone lived in one part of the park year-round, while Bannock and some other Shoshone groups continued to hunt and fish in the highlands in the summers. One group of Crow continued legally to control a narrow strip of national park land in Montana under treaty as part of their reservation until 1882. Eventual exclusion of all these Native American groups probably had as much to do with the politics of setting up Indian reservations as the ever greater emphasis upon exclusion as a policy of natural park management with no exceptions. Thus, Yellowstone itself was itself the first example of an inhabited national park (Stevens 1997, p. 28).

Yet, this case of inhabitation also was limited, park rangers aside, to occupation by indigenous peoples. As the introduction depicted, IUCN proclamations since at least its General Assembly in Zaire in 1975 have sought to devise means by which indigenous peoples may bring their lands into conservation areas without relinquishing their ownership, use, or tenure rights’ (Stevens 1998, p. 38), an endeavour it emphasised even more centrally in its 1994 Guidelines for Protected Area Management Categories. However, as early as 1992 some of the wording of IUCN

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok documents began to reflect the need to consider other peoples besides simply the indigenes living in and around national parks and nature reserves. As the IUCN-sponsored international meeting at Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park declared:

`Although the overriding goal for mountain protected areas should be environmental conservation and the maintenance of landscapes, an essential and integral part of this goal must be the recognition of the knowledge, rights, lifestyles, and cultural values of people living in and near mountain protected areas, including identity grounded in places (IUCN Commission on National Parks and Protected Areas 1992).

The Caracas Resolution and Action Plan, while still largely focussed on consideration of `indigenous and customary resource management practices’ also included wording that recognised a more inclusive category of ‘local’ people living in and around protected areas in its call to ‘involve local people closely in monitoring, use and management of wild species and other natural products’ (Stevens 1998, p. 40).

The DongiDongi case on the northeastern boundary of the Lore Lindu National Park highlights many of the ambiguities regarding the treatment of peoples living in and around national parks. Initially, the conservation agreements signed by park officials and representatives of villagers living along the park’s boundaries have been targeted at indigenous peoples living there, such as those negotiated by YTM, Yambata, and CSIADCP, not to mention the early agreements of TNC with the communities (To Pekurehua) of Lore Utara (Khaeruddin 2002). Nonindigenous local peoples have proved to be a different story. It is no accident that the To Rampi migrants of Dodolo village, which had been encompassed within the park, ended up being resettled, while the To Katu, with a much stronger claim to indigeneity as an offshoot of the To Besoa, resisted such efforts and were eventually granted enclave status (Sangaji et al. 2004). The resettlers of DongiDongi, originally from the upland regions of Marawola and southern Kulawi (now Pipikoro), but for many years resident in the Palolo Valley, have perhaps even less claim to indigenous status than the inhabitants of Dodolo. Yet, they have won the support of NGOs that had earlier oriented themselves more exclusively to the rights of the indigenous peoples in the region. The failure of the DongiDongi occupants to win an enclave status from the park authorities has motivated their strongest NGO supporters, WALHI Sulteng and Yayasan Tanah Merdeka, to question the entire enterprise of national park imposition as a colonial enterprise, echoing the critique of Western models of conservation as continuing colonialism that have been voiced elsewhere (Stevens 1998, p. 24). They have called for a moratorium on TNLL and by 37

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok extension national parks in Indonesia more generally. The director of YTM has called for the revocation of the status of TNLL as a protected area so that the traditional claims of both the ‘authentic societies’ (i.e. indigenous peoples) AND the other communities that have inhabited the area covered by the park and its periphery since before its imposition can be duly acknowledged. Only after such official acknowledgement does he suggest a round table discussion involving all stakeholders regarding an appropriate policy of area management that would be community- based (berbasiskan masyarakat).

Clearly, such a contestation does not represent simply another case of indigenous interests needing to be accommodated by appropriate agreements stressing participatory management of the national park. It represents instead a clash of two conflicting ideologies of conservation. On the one hand, TNC and its government partners have certainly foregrounded consultation and negotiations over appropriate management with indigenous (and, more recently, other local) stakeholders; however, they remain committed to a biosphere model of biodiversity conservation that demands some areas be protected from human use. On the other hand, such local NGOs as WALHI Sulteng and Yayasan Tanah Merdeka are committed to a model of ‘sustainable use’, arguing for the adequacy of local community-based resource management for all conservation purposes; they regard the retention of protected areas as a colonial imposition, a miscarriage of agrarian social justice that reproduces the poverty of local farmers, whatever their origin. Despite a laudable history of park managers accommodating indigenous interests through such strategies as conservation agreements and declaration of enclave areas, the present impasse precipitated by the occupation of DongiDongi by resettlers presents a different sort of contestation of park authority, one whose implications undermine the very basis of conservation ideology’s incipient alliance with indigenous interests that has so far preserved the park. As one of the WALHI Sulteng advocates declared in an interview, `There is no meeting point’ (‘Tidak ada titik ketemu’).

Yet, TNC has more recently attempted to provide such a ‘meeting point’. The conservation agreement it has negotiated for the Lindu plain, while certainly privileging indigenous interests in the allocation of sanctioning transgressions to indigenous adat councils, does attempt also to accommodate the interests of nonindigenous settlers through the formation of village conservation organisations (LKD) whose recruitment includes all the peoples settled in a park-

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok related region. Certainly, the working together of Bugis, Pipikoro and Kulawi settlers with indigenous Lindu representatives in this context has come about. But the indigenous representatives still feel themselves in an uneasy situation, both accepting the wider ambit of participation in the conservation project and the acknowledgement of settler rights it implies, but also maneuvering to advance the agenda of preference for indigenous rights in the warrants they invoke to justify their position in the multi-ethnic project of conservation. Whether such institutions as the LKD will be sufficient to widen the range of empowerment of local peoples settled in the vicinity of a national park will depend upon the strategic ways in which such representative institutions of modernity can be aligned with customary institutions of indigeneity so as to mould together competing agendas into a unified project of conservation.

Glossary of Acronyms

AMAN Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Nusantara (Alliance of Archipelagic ‘Indigenous Peoples’ [literally, ‘Customary Communities]) BTNLL Balai Taman Nasional Lore Lindu (Management Office of the Lore Lindu National Park) CSIADCP Central Sulawesi Integrated Area Development and Conservation Project Depsos Departmen Sosial (Department of Social Affairs, which was in charge of resettlement programs) FPM Forum Petani Merdeka (Forum for Free Farmers [i.e. in DongiDongi]) FWP Forum Wilayah Penyangga (Buffer Zone Forum) HPH Hak Pengelolaan Hutan (Forest Timber Concession) IUCN International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources JapHama Jaringan Pembelaan Hak-Hak Masyarakat Adat (Network for the Defence of the Rights of ‘Indigenous Peoples’ [literally, ‘Customary Communities]) KMAN Kongres Masyarakat Adat Nusantara (Congress of Archipelagic ‘Indigenous Peoples’ LKD Lembaga Konservasi Desa (Village Conservation Organization) PiP Parks in Peril (A Nature Conservancy program in Latin America) Polhut Polisi Hutan (Forest Police) = PPA

4th International Symposium of the journal ANTROPOLOGI INDONESIA — 12–15 July 2005 — Depok PPA Perlindungan and Pengawetan Alam (Protection and Preservation of the Environment) = Polhut TNLL Taman Nasional Lore Lindu (Lore Lindu National Park) WALHI Wahana Lingkungan Hidup Indonesia (Indonesian Forum for the Environment) YBHK Yayasan Bantuan Hukum Rakyat (Foundation for Legal Assistance to the People) YTM Yayasan Tanah Merdeka (Foundation for Free Land)

References

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