Travel
When the pandemic hit the tourist mecca of Bali, millions of people were plunged into poverty. Four years on, the island is receiving more visitors than ever, but revitalisation brings a host of new problems. By Andy Hazel.
Indonesia’s ‘golden visa’ program marks a new age in Bali
Deep in the heart of the Balinese village of Pererenan, beneath the cloud-muted heat of the noon sun, the restaurant Shelter quietly opens its doors. Waitstaff light candles and unclip velvet ropes from gold stanchions. Behind them, an open spread of hardwood tables and viridescent plants lies beneath the skyward swoop of a joglo roof. Outside, the narrow dirt road is filled with buzzing scooters and industrious locals. Visitors mooch from an outpost of Melbourne coffee chain St. ALi to the grey sands of Pererenan Beach. Catering mainly to expats and tourists and supporting dozens of local businesses, Shelter is the sort of place the Balinese government is trying to promote.
Bali is about a 10th the size of Tasmania. In the first half of 2024, the island welcomed about five million domestic tourists and nearly eight million international visitors, who spent on average about US$1500 each. A swathe of investors and developers would like to see these numbers increase, as would Indonesia’s treasury, particularly as it seeks to fund large projects such as the $60 billion Bali Urban Rail project and associated works, and the relocation of its capital from the sinking metropolis of Jakarta to the new city of Nusantara, in Borneo.
“We don’t manufacture anything. We grow rice, but we still need to import it, so we all make a living from tourism,” says Agee, a pastry chef who spends much of his time working on cruise ships. “When the pandemic came, suddenly no one had any work. People moved away or went to work on farms or live with their family.”
As the island reopened, the Indonesian government introduced the golden visa program to court wealthy investors, relaxed rules for digital nomads and remote workers, and introduced the “second home” initiative, which gave retirees and visitors the right to stay for up to a decade and to start businesses. While these measures helped bring tourist numbers back to pre-pandemic levels, they also led to the immigration of about 200,000 foreign nationals, a subset of which has raised particular concern among locals.
Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, more than 100,000 Russians have arrived in Bali, many of whom have stayed much longer than the average tourist. During a visit to a local gallery, I ask Matthew, a long-term British expat, what their impact has been.
“The trouble used to be with Australians – the Bali bogan,” he says. “But since the invasion, thousands and thousands of Russians have come here. At first, we felt sympathetic, you know. These were ones who could get out. But then they kind of moved in. And the nightlife changed,” Matthew says, referring to frequent reports of misbehaviour. “They’re spending money, loads of money, but a lot of them are breaking laws, offending locals and overstaying their visas. I get it, I wouldn’t want to go home either.”
Laura, a businesswoman who divides her time between Vancouver and Pererenan, overhears our conversation and has more to add. “Everyone knew how awful the war is,” she says. “But then they start tourism businesses that target other Russians, which they can’t do on their visas, and the locals get pushed out. There is a lot of anger about that.” Earlier this year, hackers temporarily renamed Pererenan’s neighbouring village of Canggu “New Moscow” on Google Maps.
Since Bali’s governor unsuccessfully requested the Indonesian government revoke access to the country’s visa-on-arrival program to visitors from Russia, much of the focus has been on educating foreigners about the need for respect.
Alongside an increase in the number of patrolling immigration and security officers, and many police “crackdowns” on misbehaviour, Bali’s provincial government has introduced a ban on photography at certain sacred sites and costly fines for any violations of the law. Nevertheless, most tourists will come and go unaware of the changes, and without ever being asked to pay the recently announced $15 tourist levy – money intended to fund sustainable tourist projects.
“Previously, we focused on the three S’s – namely sun, sea and sand,” Indonesia’s minister for tourism, Sandiaga Uno told a South-East Asian tourism forum. The new priorities are “serenity, spirituality and sustainability”. The aim now is to strike a balance between promoting Balinese culture and attracting foreign investment.
To this end, the government has introduced several new laws, including a moratorium on the conversion of agricultural land for tourist developments. Many have welcomed this as a necessary measure to preserve the island’s ecology, but few believe it will be enforced.
“The government knows Bali is becoming more popular,” Andre, an Ubud-based business operator, tells me. “They need to preserve the land, especially if they want to promote culture. But every year there is a new restaurant, a new hotel, and the traffic gets worse and worse. They need to build the roads first, but the roads cannot get any bigger because the locals don’t want to sell their land. The problem is, Jakarta does not see a downside to this many tourists.”
Most development in Bali takes place via freehold or leasehold agreements. Typically, a Balinese farmer or landowner will sign a lease of 20 to 30 years with a foreign investor or developer, on the condition the landowner is given a low-skilled job, such as a security guard. These agreements have seen thousands of hectares of rice paddies filled with concrete and transformed into sites for hotels, villas and, in some cases, huge luxury developments.
Behind Shelter lies Kayu Village, a small boutique resort owned by Australian Matthew Saul and British expat Claire Saunders. Saul and Saunders are two years into a 10-year lease – part of their commitment to what they call “responsible and sustainable tourism”.
“It doesn’t make financial sense, but owning land here really goes against what we believe,” Saunders says. “We’re not Balinese. Locals spend a third of their salary on ceremony. We will never do that. You have to live differently, you have to think differently, and it may not be that lucrative, but who cares? Who knows what’s going to happen in eight years? We’ll see.”
With minor earthquakes and traffic congestion a daily experience for many locals, a “we’ll see” approach to life ties in to the island’s dominant religion. A combination of Hindu beliefs and the animist traditions that existed long before Islam’s arrival in Indonesia, Balinese Hinduism has thrived amid the world’s largest population of Muslims and an explosion in tourism. For visitors, it looks like patience, kindness and generosity and is often cited as one of the reasons Indonesia is regularly voted one of the world’s friendliest nations. Conversely, foreign developers and the federal government have been accused of manipulating and exploiting people who place their faith in divine justice rather than personal or collective retribution.
“We’ll see” could also describe former president Joko Widodo’s approach to his increased surveillance of citizens, a suite of policies likely to be continued by his successor, former Special Forces commander Prabowo Subianto. Indonesia’s recent amendments to the Information and Electronic Transactions law prohibits the criticism of religion, government or another individual “with the intention of making the matter known to the public”. Violations attract a maximum sentence of six months’ imprisonment and a fine of $960. These laws also apply to tourists, effectively outlawing the criticism of a Balinese local or business.
As with most laws, they figure mainly as a threat rather than being regularly employed. While Human Rights Watch expresses concern over Indonesian authorities committing and condoning numerous human rights abuses, and deplores Prabowo’s hardline approach to critics, the US$20 billion that Jakarta draws from Bali each year appears too important to jeopardise by enforcing the more draconian national laws. In places such as Pererenan, the “serenity, spirituality and sustainability” economy is thriving.
“So many people love Bali,” says Andre. “They can’t build enough hotels for all the people who want to come here … and this turns Bali into something completely different.
“There are many nice beaches in Australia. And if you want to go to a club, you can find a club everywhere, right? I hope that when tourists come here, they come for our culture. There is so much.”
This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on October 26, 2024 as "A new age in Bali".
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