This article uses a simpler, more melancholic, and romantic language. It is my expression of gratitude to everyone who has endured until today, a story and a field note of mine. It was written after attending a discussion this afternoon, January 9, 2026, as a researcher together with the Belitong UNESCO Global Geopark Management Body and the Belitung Malay Customary Institution.
“…Yet Belitong Island has never asked me to be anyone other than myself. On this customary land, I learned to be calm without being promised happiness, to love without possession, and to endure without certainty. If I have something that can be called home, then Belitong is the most fitting definition of it—a place I consider deeply serene even as the noise of the world still rings in my ears; a warm family even when the world is growing cold; friends who are always present even as many things leave without asking for anything in return; and kind people who keep appearing without my ever expecting them. Belitong is God’s way of teaching humans how to fall in love with respect and in the simplest of ways.”
— Arry Aditsya Yoga | Researcher in Anthropology, Ecopolitics, and International Law
A decade ago, on the banks of the Lenggang River in Tebat Rasau, I was in conversation with an ethnobotany observer of Belitong Island, Marwan Hassan. At that time, the world felt as if it had been reset by the Covid-19 pandemic; many university students returned to Belitong. Together with them, I sat beneath the moonlight along the Lenggang River. One question arose: what would become of us and Belitong in a decade—or even five years—to come? As the elders would say, we had not yet tasted much of life’s bitterness and sweetness: a group of innocent students who did not yet know the world’s harshness, though some of us no longer had a mother and/or father, some were on the verge of dropping out of college due to financial constraints, some were color-blind, and some were surviving leukemia. With all these “peculiarities of fate,” we carried both blessings and curses so that Belitong could remain a home. This is not a fictional story, but a real journey that I am now writing down again.
Back then, the “world” still seemed very beautiful to us. Between the flow of water and the dim lights of the riverside huts, a simple question was spoken: “What will happen to us and Belitong five years from now?”—a question whose answer today I almost know.
Today, January 2026, marks the first article I have published at the Belitong Geopark. If someday future archaeologists were to excavate the ruins of 21st-century civilization, they might not find signs that humanity lacked data, technology, or intelligence. What they would find instead are traces of a great paradox: a civilization that knew almost everything about its own destruction yet continued to move in the same direction. May Belitong not share that fate. Earth system scientists call this phase the Great Acceleration, while environmental philosophers interpret it as an ontological crisis—a failure of humanity to re-understand its position within the web of life.
In the world’s climate laboratories, numerical models continue to produce rising curves—from global temperatures to the frequency of extreme storms and food insecurity. Johan Rockström and his colleagues warn that planetary boundaries have been crossed not as a moral metaphor, but as a measurable biophysical reality. Yet beyond graphs and algorithms, anthropologists such as Bruno Latour and Anna Tsing pose a more fundamental question: what if this crisis is not a technical error, but a failure in how we think about nature? In environmental psychology, the term eco-anxiety has emerged, referring to a collective anxiety no longer rooted in imaginary threats, but in the awareness of a fragile future. At this point, modern civilization confronts its deepest contradiction. Global humanity feels threatened by nature, even though it has long severed its ethical relationship with it. While Western philosophy is only now returning to discussions of relational ontology, many Indigenous societies have long lived within such a framework.
Small islands in the tropical region, long considered peripheral in global geopolitics, have in fact become central spaces in the climate crisis. Ecologically, islands are highly sensitive closed systems; socially, they are living archives of adaptive knowledge. In global climate change discourse, regions like Belitong are no longer positioned merely as victims, but as epistemic frontiers where the future of civilization is being tested. On January 9, 2026, after a storm drenched the city of Tanjung Pandan, a meeting took place at the Belitong Traditional House. This extreme weather event—climatologically becoming increasingly common—formed the backdrop for a deeply meaningful and reflective dialogue.
The meeting brought together the Belitung Malay Customary Institution, representatives from the tourism sector of the Bangka Belitung Islands Provincial Government, the Belitong UNESCO Global Geopark Management Body, as well as students and researchers (Winarty as Marine Biologist, Cecen Nurlita as Green Governance Researcher, Andrew as Ecopolitologist, Julita as an alumnus of Senior High School 1 Sijuk (SMA Negeri 1 Sijuk) and student in Universitas Bangka Belitung, Oucha Shyrennita as an alumnus of Senior High School 1 Sijuk (SMA Negeri 1 Sijuk) and student of IPB University, Raisya Desvita as an alumnus State Vocational High School 3 Tanjungpandan (SMK Negeri 1 Tanjungpandan) and Student of Politeknik Belitung).
From Bangka Belitung University, IPB University, Belitung Polytechnic, Universiti Utara Malaysia, and independent researchers. What truly met were not merely institutions, but different systems of knowledge that complemented one another—from customary law, science, and policy to everyday lived experience. The initiation by Septi Anggraheni of the Belitong UNESCO Global Geopark Management Body and the welcoming address by Achmad Hamzah, Chair of the Belitung Malay Customary Institution, formed a mutual acknowledgment that the future of the geopark cannot be designed unilaterally. In environmental governance studies, moments like this are understood as the early stages of co-producing knowledge between institutional actors and Indigenous communities, with the hope that an MoU between both parties will emerge after this day.
The discussion soon moved beyond administrative issues. The geopark was understood as a living system under constant negotiation, not a static space merely to be protected. Researchers present—from environmental anthropology, international law, environmental politics and green governance, marine science, and forestry—demonstrated that the climate crisis demands an interdisciplinary approach, where ecological data must be read alongside social structures and cultural values. The Belitung Malay Customary Institution then presented the customary forest system that has sustained the island for centuries. Kerangas Forest is used for herbal plants; Riding Forest functions as a river buffer; Tali Utan is understood as the mother forest; Utan Terajak lies in blackwater areas; Utan Kepala’ Ai’ protects water sources; Utan Kemali’an is guarded with customary permission for village needs; and Utan Pembuangen is considered sacred as a cosmological space.
In modern ecological terminology, this system can be read as adaptive zoning based on function, value, and ecological context. The concept of Tali Utan, or mother forest, resonates philosophically with the idea of deep ecology developed by Arne Naess, in which nature is viewed as having intrinsic value beyond human interests. For the people of Belitong, this worldview is not the result of theoretical reflection, but a lived practice passed down across generations. These customary forests also function as natural ecological infrastructure. In the context of increasing extreme rainfall and flood risk, areas such as Utan Kepala’ Ai’ and Riding Forest act as nature-based disaster mitigation systems. Contemporary climate science refers to this approach as nature-based solutions, although Indigenous communities have long practiced it without scientific labels.
The sacred dimension of Utan Pembuangen and Utan Kemali’an shows that conservation operates not only through formal regulations, but also through psychological and symbolic mechanisms. Respect, taboo, and fear shape the boundaries of human behavior toward nature. In environmental psychology, such mechanisms are understood as moral ecology, where emotions and values function as instruments for ecosystem protection. The multi-layered institutional structure of the Belitung Malay Customary Institution—from provincial to village levels—demonstrates an adaptive and contextual governance system. This model aligns with the principles of multi-level governance in international environmental policy and opens opportunities for integrating customary forests into climate change mitigation schemes, including community-based carbon trading.
Experts also warned of the potential danger of green colonialism, where carbon market mechanisms ignore Indigenous sovereignty and local ethics. In this context, the planned memorandum of understanding between the Belitong UNESCO Global Geopark Management Body and the Belitung Malay Customary Institution carries strategic significance as an instrument for safeguarding ecological justice. The involvement of Dekranasda expanded the discussion into the realm of cultural economy and creative industries. The development of geoproducts based on local wisdom was seen not merely as cultural commodification, but as a means of integrating ecological values into economic practice. In economic anthropology, this approach is known as an economy embedded in social and environmental norms.
The issue of gender equality raised during the discussion underscored that ecological sustainability cannot be separated from social justice. Numerous studies show that communities with strong women’s participation tend to be more resilient to climate crises. In the Belitong context, this is not an innovation, but a recognition of long-standing social practices. The proposal to use traditional attire and the Belitong language in every Belitong UNESCO Global Geopark activity is not merely symbolic, but epistemological. Language and symbols shape how humans understand the world. By reviving them within the formal geopark space, local communities reaffirm their knowledge sovereignty.
The opening of spaces for research collaboration, customary inventory, and cultural outreach by the Belitung Malay Customary Institution positions Belitong as a subject of knowledge production. In a global context saturated with anxiety about the future, this position becomes crucial. Thus, the afternoon meeting at the Belitong Traditional House cannot be viewed as a local event isolated from global dynamics. It is a fragment of a larger debate about how human civilization will respond to the climate crisis, the crisis of meaning, and the crisis of our relationship with nature. In a world that knows too much yet understands too little, Belitong offers another possibility: a future built from the encounter between science, custom, ethics, and collective memory long pushed to the margins.
Corresponding Author: Arry Aditsya Yoga | Researcher in International Law, Ecopolitology, and Anthropology.