Editor’s note: In July 2026, ten residents of Bali, Indonesia filed a citizen lawsuit against the country’s government, seeking a moratorium on new fossil fuel projects and accountability for climate-related disasters. Below, one of the plaintiffs and a field organizer with 350 Indonesia, Suriadi Darmoko, explains why he joined the case and what he believes is at stake for Bali’s future. Flooding in the dry season? That was my first question after encountering so many floods, caused by extreme rain, that of all things, fall during what should be the dry season. To me, this situation is an extraordinary anomaly. Back in elementary school I was taught that Indonesia’s dry season runs from April to September, while the rainy season usually falls between October and March. But in the year 2000, when I still lived in my home village, the rain did not come when it was supposed to. Even after the ‘coffee-blossom rain’ — the first rain of the rainy season, after which the coffee plants would normally flower — more than a month passed and no more rain fell. The ground that had been soaked by that ‘coffee-blossom rain’ turned dusty again. As a result, the planting season for rain-fed farmers — including my own parents — had to be delayed. That is a childhood memory of mine, one I thought things would improve after, but they didn’t. Instead I have lived through seasons that grow more and more unpredictable, even more extreme. The intensifying climate crisis is growing more widespread and costly The great flood in Bali that struck during the dry season, specifically on 10 September 2025, brought that memory rushing back. A memory that returned with a simple question: since when did the seasons become so hard to predict? Now, the rain no longer holds back; it strikes right at the peak of the dry season. Eighteen people died, 295 were displaced, and 6,309 households were affected. In addition, 520 public facilities were damaged, three bridges were severed, 23 road sections were destroyed, 82 retaining walls collapsed, and 194 houses were damaged. Total economic losses were estimated at Rp28.9 billion. Flooding in Denpasar, Bali. Photo: Kresnanta – BaleBengong That same year, extreme rainfall struck again at the peak of the dry season, this time in July — collapsing a section of Bali’s main highway, the Denpasar–Gilimanuk route, into a sinkhole roughly 8 meters (26 feet) deep and causing severe congestion. It wasn’t the first time: a 2022 flash flood in nearby Jembrana, a district on the same route, had already submerged 156 homes, displaced 117 households, and destroyed seven bridges. Rescue efforts after flooding in Denpasar, Bali. Photo: Kresnanta – BaleBengong Flooding is clearly nothing new for Bali: it keeps recurring, but it does get worse every year. It no longer strikes only the outskirts, but also tourist areas like Kuta, Legian, Seminyak, Canggu, Sanur, Ubud, and other parts of Bali, none of which have escaped flooding. Today, you no longer need to strain to remember when Bali last flooded — the footage is easy to find online. It is ironic: an island marketed as a comfortable tourist destination ‘the last paradise’ is instead being battered by climate disasters that grow more intense and more destructive by the year. Extreme heat, too, no longer holds back even during the rainy season. Several areas in Bali Province have recorded daily temperatures reaching 36 degrees Celsius. Bali was also hit by a prolonged drought in 2016, which caused drinking-water supplies to plummet drastically. For example, at that time the local water treatment plant could only operate at 25 percent of its total production capacity of 550 liters per second. Beyond flooding, coastal areas are also not spared from threats coming from the sea: tidal surges threatening beach destinations such as Sanur, Kuta, and many other locations. The threat from ocean waves keeps worsening, to the point that it could paralyze the sea crossings to Bali at any moment. In mid-2025, a ferry sank after being struck by a tidal surge in the Bali Strait, disrupting the flow of logistics into Bali; the sinking also claimed lives. 2025 is certainly not the peak of Bali’s environmental crisis, because extreme weather continues to threaten this increasingly deforested island. When threat meets vulnerability Increasingly intense extreme weather is colliding with poor land-use practices. According to findings from the PULIHKAN Bali (Restore Bali) Coalition, a public advocacy group, between 2019 and 2024, Bali’s main urban area, the fast-growing region around Denpasar known by the acronym SARBAGITA, lost at least 6,522 hectares of productive rice fields — equivalent to an average shrinkage of 1,087 hectares of rice fields every year, a real erosion of the Subak cultural landscape long celebrated as a world heritage. In the Ayung River Basin (DAS), which serves as the lifeline of Bali’s water supply, the ecosystem is in a state of severe crisis. Forest cover in the Ayung basin, which once reached roughly 49,500 hectares, has now shrunk to only about 1,500 hectares. Meanwhile, Bali’s cities are falling well short of Indonesia’s legal requirement to keep at least 30% of urban land as green space: parks, urban forest, and other unpaved, vegetated areas that help absorb rainwater and reduce flood risk. The destruction caused by flooding in Denpasar, Bali. Photo: Kresnanta – BaleBengong To me, it is as if those in power have let Bali become a case of the classic disaster equation: extreme rain (hazard) plus land-use conversion (vulnerability), compounded by a lack of readiness to face it (capacity). The root of Bali’s ecological crisis To me, flooding is only the surface of a much longer chain of root causes. Extreme rain is a result of unstable weather caused by climate change. Climate change is a result of global warming driven by rising greenhouse gases — carbon dioxide, methane, and others. So the question follows: does the root cause i.e. the greenhouse gases also originate from within Bali itself? A survey by the KemBali Becik Community found that 64 percent of Bali’s greenhouse gas emissions come from tourism industry activities. The tourism and industrial sector consumes 3,737 GWh of electricity, while households consume only 3,153 GWh. And with far fewer customers — 226,942 in the tourism sector compared to 1,468,786 households — business and industrial sectors are far more energy-hungry, making their contribution to greenhouse gas production disproportionately large. I see no sign of improvement at the island-wide scale, even as promises of an energy transition keep echoing across Bali — whether from the Bali Provincial Government or from international forums such as the G20, which gave birth to the Just Energy Transition Partnership (JETP). In fact, Bali is being shown a policy paradox. Regional and central governments keep clearing the way for massive projects that would only add to greenhouse gas emissions and deepen the climate crisis — including plans for four new gas-fired power plants with a combined capacity of 1,550 megawatts (enough to power more than a million homes), paired with a floating terminal that would import and process liquefied natural gas offshore. To put that in perspective: it’s more than Bali’s entire current power supply — the island’s whole existing electricity system has an installed capacity of just 1,518 megawatts, against a peak demand of around 1,227 megawatts. Rather than pursuing a transition, the government instead seems intent on demonstrating that Bali’s energy-security strategy is anchored in fossil fuels. In my view, this is a false sense of energy security — dependence on gas actually threatens Bali with the risk of future energy crises. I have tried to untangle this complexity through a bit of philosophical reflection. Under the teaching of Karma Phala — the law of cause and effect that also underpins the moral foundation of Balinese society — it is hard to imagine the impacts of the climate crisis easing while the very causes behind it continue to be funded, reinforced, and built up across Bali. Every infrastructure project that increases carbon emissions, and every political decision that sacrifices water-catchment areas, will eventually bear bitter fruit, coming back to collect its due in the form of floods, droughts, rising sea levels, and extreme weather. For that reason, fossil energy expansion can no longer be treated merely as a technical matter of power supply, it is now a critical issue of public safety, ecological justice, and the very existence of this ‘last paradise.’ A path to calming the crisis I believe the climate crisis in Bali cannot be calmed by stopping just one greedy project alone. One of the best paths to calming this crisis, is to delay, or even halt, the granting of ‘extractive permits’ across the board, all at once. It is on this basis that I chose to take part in this climate lawsuit together with the PULIHKAN (Movement for Environment and Sustainability) Bali Coalition, with one goal: to prevent Bali from being further destroyed. At this point, it is entirely reasonable for the Court, and for the judges’ gavel, to take on the important role of deciding on the suspension of extractive permits that are undermining efforts to mitigate and adapt to the climate crisis in Bali. Press conference by PULIHKAN Bali Coalition on July 7, announcing the filing of Bali’s first climate lawsuit Photo: 350.org Indonesia Through this lawsuit, the PULIHKAN Bali Coalition also hopes to spur the birth of structural policy correction in the form of a moratorium. This moratorium would include a temporary halt on new fossil-fuel energy megaprojects, as well as a halt on permits allowing the conversion of productive agricultural land, water-catchment areas, green open spaces, and protected zones. A moratorium is not an attempt to stop the pulse of the economy — it is the application of a precautionary principle, to ensure that no one becomes a sacrifice made in the name of development. The road to recovery Beyond a moratorium on permits, I believe it is also essential to emphasize the urgency of reforming climate and disaster financing. Until now, the handling of climate disasters in Indonesia has tended to be reactive, and heavily dependent on the bureaucratic process of declaring a disaster emergency status. Yet the climate crisis has already transformed the frequency and scale of disasters into a real, recurring threat. Regional preparedness must not be held hostage by convoluted administrative procedures. The government needs to progressively allocate dedicated funding within the national and regional budgets toward mitigation, adaptation, strengthening community preparedness, rapid emergency response, and community-based post-disaster recovery. Bali, in fact, has a strong historical track record on the global climate stage. As host of the UN Climate Change Conference (COP 13) in 2007, Bali once stood at the center of the world’s attention in shaping the Bali Road Map. Now, having set the ambitious target of Bali Net Zero Emissions 2045, that commitment is being tested on the ground. Climate commitments mean nothing if they remain mere diplomatic jargon, while on the ground, permits for fossil industries and the destruction of water-catchment areas continue unabated. Bali’s climate leadership can only be proven through consistent policy: accelerating the adoption of renewable energy, protecting what remains of its natural landscape, halting fossil expansion, and restoring degraded ecosystems. This citizens’ lawsuit is, in the end, a mirror of the stakes riding on Bali’s future. The decisions made today will determine whether we will find a Bali that is sustainable and resilient, or an island drowning in an ecological crisis of its own elites’ making. The choice at this crossroads is clear: continue down the path of dependence on fossil energy and destructive land-use conversion, or dare to step toward a clean energy transition, protection of the remaining landscape, and governance grounded in public safety. Bali cannot walk in two opposing directions at once. For the safety of both people and nature in Bali, choosing a safe and clean future is no longer merely an option — it is a mandate that must be fulfilled now. The post Bali’s Climate Lawsuit appeared first on 350.