The Paradox in Southeast Asia’s Decarbonization Agenda

Efforts to reduce emissions, decarbonize, and mitigate global warming can often produce significant negative externalities. Whether it be resource extraction for renewable energy technologies (for instance, nickel mining to build electrical vehicle batteries) or the installation of clean, firm power (such as geothermal energy), the clean energy transition disrupts local ecosystems and can disproportionately disadvantage the immediate communities where power generation or resource extraction occurs. Given the undeniably urgent need to increase clean energy production, these consequences can be overlooked or downplayed to the detriment of communities who are most impacted.

This problem presents a paradox: Reaching global decarbonization goals may come at the expense of biodiversity, ecosystem health, and principles of environmental justice. This misalignment underscores a growing tension between the modern climate movement, concerned with a societal transition away from fossil fuels, and traditional environmentalism, concerned with local conservation and environmental protection. Inherent in this conundrum is the impossibility of separating climate goals from environmental considerations: Biodiversity supports key ecosystem services and can regulate climate systems while mitigating climate risks.

Protests against climate policies or climate infrastructure development—also known as anti-climate protests—accounted for more than 45 percent of the 140 climate-related protests recorded in the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace’s Climate Protest Tracker in 2024, a sharp increase from 31 percent in 2023.¹ Within that, 82 percent of the anti-climate protests in 2024 were rooted in grassroots opposition to clean energy infrastructure projects: mineral mining, hydroelectric power plants, wind turbines, and solar farms. While some of these protests came from residents resisting such developments in their communities—a “not in my backyard” attitude—others were rooted in broader concerns about the environmental costs and biodiversity impacts of such projects. This signals a deepening tension between the decarbonization goals of the climate movement and the sociocultural, economic, and environmental costs of achieving them.

This trend is particularly evident in Southeast Asia, where grassroots protests against climate infrastructure projects are gaining steam. The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), which includes Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam, sits at a crossroads between regional ecological protection and advancing member countries’ clean energy transitions. As one of the world’s most biodiverse regions with the highest proportion of threatened species, Southeast Asia provides key ecosystem services that are under increasing pressure.² At the same time, it possesses resources critical for clean energy development. Indonesia and the Philippines, for instance, account for around 65 percent of global mined nickel production.³ ASEAN countries also collectively represent 15 percent of the global technical potential for enhanced geothermal energy generation.⁴ The region is positioned to be a major player in the clean energy transition.

As Southeast Asia rapidly urbanizes, energy demand for everything from air conditioning to global manufacturing is projected to soar. Although eight of the ten Southeast Asian countries have net zero emissions goals, fossil fuels—predominantly coal—currently supply over 70 percent of the region’s energy demand.⁵ To decouple energy growth from emissions growth, Southeast Asian countries must turn to renewable solutions. However, the same projects meant to drive development and decarbonization are also provoking citizen unrest. As Southeast Asia turns increasingly toward clean energy, so too the region contends with growing civic backlash.

The same projects meant to drive development and decarbonization are also provoking citizen unrest.

This article examines how Southeast Asia’s pursuit of clean energy infrastructure—driven by development dreams and national climate commitments—is unfolding in areas rich in both ecological and cultural value. The case study of geothermal development in Flores, Indonesia, explores how clean energy projects are experienced by local communities as environmentally harmful and socially disruptive, resulting in a growing coalition of Indigenous communities, activists, and religious leaders opposing such projects. Protesters highlight that while climate infrastructure projects are essential for mitigating the climate crisis, their implementation risks reproducing social inequalities and ecological damage. The challenge ahead lies in ensuring that an ambitious energy transition is coupled with ecologically conscious practices and justice-oriented community considerations.

Putting the Heat on to Keep the Heat off: Geothermal Development in Indonesia

Indonesia has the world’s greatest geothermal potential. A renewable form of energy production, geothermal energy uses wells drilled into the Earth’s crust to pull up heat that can power turbines and generate electricity. In 2024, installed geothermal capacity in Indonesia stood at 2.68 gigawatts, second only to the 4 gigawatts of installed capacity in the United States.⁶ While Indonesia possesses substantial geothermal energy generation potential, only a fraction is used to generate energy. The National Electricity Supply Business Plan (Rencana Usaha Penyediaan Tenaga Listrik 2025–2034) targets an additional 5.2 gigawatts of installed geothermal capacity in Indonesia by 2034.⁷ Increasing geothermal energy development remains a key priority for the country, as part of its commitment to achieve net zero emissions by 2060.

In Indonesia, geothermal energy is the only renewable energy source that is statutorily regulated.⁸ One of the country’s most significant geothermal policy developments was the introduction of Law Number 21 of 2014 on Geothermal Energy, which replaced Law Number 27 of 2003 on Geothermal Energy. The law recognized that geothermal is a renewable natural resource, “the potential of which is large and the utilization has not been optimum.”⁹ The new legislation identified a national goal “to promote and intensify [geothermal] utilization” to meet Indonesia’s growing energy demand.

Most geothermal resources in Indonesia are located within protected and conservation forest areas. To support the expansion of geothermal energy, the 2014 legislation provided a new legal basis for geothermal activity by repealing its prior classification as a form of mining. In Indonesia, mining activities are prohibited in areas of high biodiversity and conservation value and require the issuance of specific mining licenses; geothermal and other forms of mining were thus restricted in conserved forest areas.¹⁰ When the 2014 law passed, geothermal activities could expand to areas including production forests, protected forests, conservation forests, and coastal waters.¹¹ Separating geothermal activities from existing mining restrictions thus allowed for increased resource exploitation in those areas.¹² While government policy has created a more favorable environment for geothermal exploration, local support for such developments has not followed suit.

Citizen Opposition to Geothermal Development in Flores, Indonesia

A key site of citizen opposition to geothermal development has been on the island of Flores in Nusa Tenggara Timur Province, which the national government designated as a “geothermal island” because of its significant geothermal resource potential. Geothermal development on the island has received international funding from the World Bank while being implemented by the Indonesian government.¹³ Yet the designation of Flores as a site for geothermal development came as a surprise to its residents, who were not consulted.¹⁴ Several proposed projects across the island—including in Wae Sano, Poco Leok, Ulumbu, and Mataloko—have been met with protests and public opposition from citizens and activist organizations that are concerned about the environmental and biodiversity hazards and the impacts on Indigenous communities and livelihoods.¹⁵

While geothermal energy has clear decarbonization benefits, its development often disrupts local ecosystems and communities. Constructing a geothermal power facility involves site clearing, road construction for heavy machinery, and borehole drilling. These activities can result in substantial water waste, induce seismic activity, and lead to lasting biodiversity impacts. As is the case in Indonesia, areas with high geothermal resource potential are often also areas with high endemic biodiversity, intensifying the impacts on the ecosystem.¹⁶ Open-loop geothermal systems, while cleaner than equivalent fossil fuel power generation, can also emit harmful hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide gases, posing significant health risks to neighboring communities.¹⁷ Although renewable energy projects can create employment opportunities, displaced agricultural workers typically lack the education or technical skills to transition into such positions. This disconnect has led to resistance among communities that rely on traditional livelihoods.

In 2021, Wae Sano community members issued an open letter stating that they “rejected entirely the existence of the Wae Sano geothermal project,” which they argued failed to consider the social and ecological risk to locals and provided them with little direct benefits.¹⁸ At community meetings filmed for the 2023 documentary Barang Panas (Hot Stuff), residents compared the geothermal development to resource extraction experienced under colonialism: “It’s like the colonial era. They’re taking away our economic resources. It’s like in 1945, in my opinion. This is colonialism all over again, oppressing the local communities . . . that’s what the current situation feels like. So, we do reject it.”¹⁹

Drawing from examples in neighboring communities, residents of Wae Sano highlighted the ecological and cultural impacts of the proposed project and argued that the development would affect their crop yields and livelihoods. They cited the geothermal power plant in Dieng, Central Java, which residents claim resulted in toxic air pollution, water contamination, water shortages, and earthquakes.²⁰ The large quantities of water required in geothermal projects can also impact crop production—in the Batur District, a potato farmer highlighted that local farmers were “competing with a company that can pump water more extensively and quickly. If we don’t farm or fail to harvest, we can’t eat, our children can’t go to school. The losses are much greater for the local people.”²¹ Moreover, opposition to the project was also rooted in the Indigenous communities’ long-standing ancestral relationships to the land. Community members feared the potential relocation would mean leaving their ancestors behind and angering them. One resident of Wae Sano said that the communities “cannot run away [from our homes], [since] our ancestors also cannot run away . . . leaving our birthplace or homeland . . . leave[s] our ancestors behind who then search for us . . . that is why we, as one tribe, declare our rejection [of the geothermal project].”²²

Residents of Wae Sano highlighted the ecological and cultural impacts of the proposed project and argued that the development would affect their crop yields and livelihoods.

While the 2014 Law on Geothermal Energy reclassified geothermal as nonmining activity, many villagers continued to understand geothermal as akin to mining—part of a suite of extractivist practices that undermine their cultural and environmental well-being. In a community consultation, Wae Sano residents even called for the World Bank to stop funding the program. They argued that funding the geothermal development would be akin to “killing” residents and that World Bank involvement would be “complici[ty] in committing a crime against humanity.”²³

This situation illustrates the paradox: While the geothermal project was promoted as a contribution to Indonesian—and global—climate goals, citizens were concerned about the immediate impacts on their communities and local biodiversity. The Wae Sano project was hotly contested by citizens who worried it would affect the local water supply, including the biggest lake in the area, the key source of agricultural irrigation and drinking water for residents. Wae Sano developers framed the project in the language of climate action and low-carbon development, campaigning for local support in the media and asking locals to “play an active role in overcoming the increase in earth’s temperature due to climate change by supporting the geothermal project.”²⁴ In response to the language of climate action, Wae Sano residents, looking at similar geothermal projects in the region, critiqued the rhetoric as just “campaign material” that failed to consider the environmental and biodiversity effects of the project.²⁵ To the residents impacted, opposition to the project stems from concerns about protecting local ways of life and biodiversity.²⁶ Their opposition is especially striking given how geothermal development is touted as requiring the smallest land and resource footprint among most renewable power technologies.²⁷

Citizen opposition is especially striking given how geothermal development is touted as requiring the smallest land and resource footprint among most renewable power technologies.

No clear victor has yet emerged in the push and pull over geothermal energy in Flores. Years of sustained community resistance led the World Bank to upgrade its risk rating of the environmental, social, and stakeholder impacts of the Wae Sano project, before ultimately withdrawing its financing from the project in 2023.²⁸ However, in a letter announcing the withdrawal of World Bank financing from the project in Wae Sano, the regent of West Manggarai announced that Indonesia’s government would use alternative funding mechanisms to continue the project.²⁹ Community members remain resolute in their opposition to the project—to them, “the main problem is not the funding, but that the project disrupts people’s lives, both environmentally and socially.”³⁰

As the debate has dragged on, new voices have joined the Indigenous villagers’ opposition, most notably a coalition of activists and Catholic religious leaders. In January 2025, Archbishop Paulus Budi Kleden of the Archdiocese of Ende voiced his moral opposition to geothermal development after consulting with affected constituents in Flores, and he spoke about the need to encourage resistance.³¹ In March, the Archdiocese of Ende issued a pastoral letter that rejected the development of the Flores and Lembata geothermal projects. That month, Catholic priests and nuns joined hundreds of activists rallying outside of the Ministry of Energy and Mineral Resources in Jakarta as well as outside of the regent’s office in Ngada Regency to demand a halt to geothermal development in Flores.³² Amid growing interventions by the Catholic Church in Indonesia, the governor of East Nusa Tenggara issued a moratorium on the development of new geothermal energy projects on Flores in April 2025 and promised to review all geothermal development.³³

The involvement of religious leaders symbolizes the expansion of the movement to encompass broader ideological considerations beyond immediate community concerns about direct socioeconomic and ecological costs. The inclusion of religious leaders in the coalition not only accorded the movement with greater visibility but also invoked a moral dimension of resistance to destructive practices. Indeed, one Wae Sano resident described geothermal developments as “a killer of living beings created by God,”³⁴ while the open letter described the community’s rejection of geothermal development as being “in the name of justice, peace and the integrity of creations.”³⁵ As civic opposition to the Wae Sano geothermal project grows, coalition-building has become an essential way to effectively amplify the voices of marginalized communities most disadvantaged by climate infrastructure development.

Conclusion

The case study of Flores, Indonesia, makes clear that the clean energy transition in Southeast Asia is experienced through contradictory realities. While national governments attempt to respond to the urgent need for decarbonization, local communities often experience such projects through the fears of environmental degradation, displacement from ancestral lands, and economic marginalization. The future of climate infrastructure development in Southeast Asia must thus contend with the challenge of balancing climate goals with respecting local rights and protecting the rich biodiversity of the region. There is no panacea to this paradox. Crafting climate policy that is ambitious in its targets, centered on tenets of environmental justice, and protective of ecosystem health will require navigating significant complexities and trade-offs.

As governments respond to growing civic opposition to climate infrastructure projects, activists may also face restrictions on civic space. This is especially notable in Southeast Asia, a region marked by a diverse spectrum of regimes.³⁶ Authoritarian governance practices in these nations—many of which maintain inherited colonial-era regulations³⁷—limit freedom of expression or assembly.³⁸ Across the region, environmental activists are particularly vulnerable. Southeast Asian countries such as the Philippines consistently rank among the deadliest countries in the world for environmental activists, with activists subject to harassment, detention, and violence.³⁹ In Wae Sano, stories have emerged of the intimidation of Indigenous protesters who oppose geothermal development. During the public consultations held in 2020 regarding the geothermal project, police and military personnel were stationed both within and outside of the meeting room, which local community members viewed as an intimidation tactic that prevented the local community from “standing up for their rights.”⁴⁰

The growing global trend of citizen protests against climate infrastructure projects—alongside the trend of criminalization elaborated in Oscar Berglund’s article⁴¹—underscores that much more has to be done to ensure that communities not only understand the global need for decarbonization but also receive localized benefits from such activities. This is especially critical in marginalized communities, where such developments risk replicating colonial histories of repression and extraction if not carefully managed. In the case of geothermal development in Southeast Asia, possible paths forward should prioritize free, prior, and informed consent. Acquiring true consent that is free from any form of coercion will help to facilitate bottom-up participation before development occurs on Indigenous territory. Moreover, such projects should consider the local communities as partners and not merely obstacles to the development. This might entail starting with smaller-scale projects that can deliver immediate, localized benefits, which can foster trust and prevent residents from feeling like they have been sacrificed for national development. Community involvement in the ownership and benefits of energy infrastructure—such as forming energy cooperatives or allowing local stakeholders to become shareholders—can further align projects with local interests and reduce their economic losses. As these benefits are realized, capacity can gradually expand, creating pathways for the community to adapt, including shifting local expertise and livelihoods. Such measures will take time but can ensure a more equitable and durable transition.

Ultimately, decarbonization is not a goal in and of itself. The fundamental mission behind climate action should be to build a livable world. Achieving this vision demands more than just deploying clean energy infrastructure at scale. It requires interrogating who benefits and who bears the costs of such processes. This might entail rethinking metrics of success beyond megawatts deployed or emissions reduced to also include how local communities are empowered. To build sustainable and enduring climate policy, decarbonization efforts must be aligned with the broader missions of environmental justice and biodiversity protection.

In this series of articles, Carnegie scholars and contributors are analyzing varieties of climate activism from around the world, focusing on the intensification of activity both from the protesters themselves and from the authorities and forces who are the objects of their discontent.

Read more from the series here:

• Why Climate Sabotage Remains an Unlikely Strategy
• The Growing Criminalization of Climate and Environmental Protests
• In Iraq and Yemen, Climate Activism Requires Both Defiance and Adaptation
• Women and Climate Activism in Morocco and Tunisia
• Backlash Against Carbon Pricing in Australia and Canada
• Confronting Backlash Against Europe’s Green Transition