Forest recognition for Papua tribe raises hopes for climate

East Bintuni Regency, Indonesia – Walking barefoot through the emerald green jungle with a long wooden bow over his shoulder, Josep Ogoney points up at the tropical vegetation surrounding him and his remote riverside village.

“This is my pasar”, said the 37-year-old, using the Indonesian word for market. “I can bring animals to eat, plants for medicine, and wood to build my house.”

But this stretch of pristine rainforest is quite different from conventional markets.

“It’s all free,” grinned Josep, who is a member of the Ogoney, an indigenous clan from Indonesia who lives in the richly forested province of West Papua in the far east.

That is not entirely true. The Ogoney have been cultivating the forest for centuries and living off the fruits of their labor. Here they grow pineapple, sago and sweet potatoes, hunt deer and pigs and use native plants to feed and heal themselves.

But while parts of the Ogoney Forest are set aside for sustainable use of the abundant natural resources, much is considered sacred according to their traditional beliefs and so it is not only left untouched but fiercely protected.

“We depend on the forest,” adds Josep. “We will deny anyone who tries to exploit it.”

Indigenous peoples and local communities, such as the Ogoney, control half of the world’s land and 80 percent of its biodiversity and have been effective guardians and defenders of nature for generations. Forests on native land that save 37.7 billion tons of carbon worldwide, play an important role in stabilizing the Earth’s climate.

But it is only recently that indigenous peoples and local communities have gained mainstream recognition for that role. At the 2021 United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP26, world leaders pledged to give $1.7 billion to support these communities, citing evidence that they are fighting deforestation.

“Using sustainable practices learned from one generation to the next, they are actively protecting forests, preserving biodiversity and maintaining a delicate balance that is essential for both the environment and their own livelihoods,” says Emmanuelle Bérenger, head of sustainable forest management at the Rainforest Alliance, a global non-profit organization. “To protect forests effectively, they must be supported by legal recognition.”

Long process

Lessons can be learned from Indonesia, which began legal recognition of indigenous “customary forests” in 2016 to both strengthen land rights and better manage the country’s natural resources.

To date, Indonesia’s Ministry of Environment and Forestry, which oversees the world’s third-largest tract of rainforest, has recognized the customary forests of more than 100 tribes and 153,000 hectares (591 square miles) of land previously under state control, reassigned.

In October, the Ogoney became the first indigenous people in West Papua province to have a traditional forest recognized by the government. It covers 16,299 hectares (63 square miles) of tropical lowland forest, which contains rare species such as birds of paradise and cassowaries – emu-like creatures closest to dinosaurs.

“I thank God myself for this recognition,” says Yustina Ogoney, head of the Merdey district, which includes all Ogoney villages. “I pay serious attention to forest protection, because if there is no forest, it will have a big impact on us.”

Recognition was the culmination of a long, arduous process that began in 2017.

The Ogoneys began their application for customary land recognition after a timber company, Papua Satya Kencana (PASKA), was awarded a concession in their district.

“I saw areas of other clans in the Moskona tribe being massively cut down by the company,” says Yustina, who became the head of the district in 2017. “Our forest is still intact and we didn’t want it to happen here.”

It was not an easy process.

Many of the Ogoney had no idea of ​​the existence or importance of the Decree on the Recognition of Land under Common Law, and when it came to mapping the territorial boundaries, there were disputes between communities as to where they should be . It took several site visits before the government finally verified the application.

“The government has been very slow to give recognition, especially to the Papuans,” said Sulfianto Alias ​​of Panah Papua, who led participatory mapping for the Ogoney and six other clans in the region with the support of Perkumpulan HuMa Indonesia.

As part of the process, Panah Papua produced a study of the Ogoney culture, which is known for its durability.

The clan, which goes back at least seven generations according to the research, practices rotational cultivation, largely of sago, which comes from palm trees, and buah merah, an endemic red fruit known for its healing properties — with rules governing where in the forest cultivation is allowed.

“It’s a beautiful place,” says Rosalina Ogoney, a 41-year-old from the same village as Josep. “We have fields where we can grow food, but only for what we need, and elsewhere it is forbidden to even enter — let alone hunt or engage in activities.”

As a result, the rainforest has been preserved. a study by the Samdhana Institute, an Indonesian non-profit organization, found that only 51 hectares (126 acres) of forest were lost on the Ogoney’s land between 1990 and 2020, an annual deforestation rate of just 0.1 percent.

In comparison, Nusantara Atlas, an independent deforestation monitor, estimates that tree cover loss in Indonesia averaged 0.5 percent per year from 2001 to 2021.

“The evidence shows that indigenous peoples protect their forests,” said Yunus Yumte, the institute’s Papuan project coordinator. “We found that the low deforestation was due to the traditional cultural practices in forestry and land cultivation and limited access.”

Besides being a source of food, medicine and building materials, the forest provides an important defense against flooding – more frequent due to climate change – in the Ogoney area, which is surrounded by major rivers at the foot of the Arfak Mountains.

boost for women

Beyond the climate benefits, the wider recognition of traditional forests is seen as an opportunity to improve gender equality and the livelihoods of indigenous peoples, who are disproportionately affected by poverty and discrimination.

Previously, the Ogoney received little agricultural training or support because their land was considered state forest, but officials from the Ministry of Manpower and Bogor Agricultural University are now working to improve the efficiency of crop cultivation. There is also the prospect of developing ecotourism.

“I hope that inclusive economic growth can take place,” says Rina Mardiana of the university’s Faculty of Ecology.

Meanwhile, a study last year of five common woods — including the Ogoneys — found the process has created “opportunities for women” in local politics.

Women of one tribe in Sumatra, on the western side of the Indonesian archipelago, have successfully improved gender equality in forest management by forming women’s groups. But its success is not widespread. Women often need permission from male relatives to use forest products, for example. “Yet women’s voices are not taken into account,” said Abby Gina Boang Manalu, the study’s lead author.

Going forward, critics say the government needs to ramp up the speed and scale of recognition.

This is according to a report in March of the Registry Office for Ancestral Domain (BRWA), an Indonesian non-profit organization, there are 25.1 million hectares (96,912 square miles) of potentially common forest, but only 3.2 million hectares (12,366 square miles), or 12.7 percent, have been recognized by the local government – the last step before the national government passes recognition.

“It’s not enough,” says Tania Li, a professor of anthropology at the University of Toronto and an expert on the movement of indigenous peoples in Indonesia. “It is not happening on the required scale. It has to go at least as fast to catch up at all.”

Li points to the tens of millions of acres of concessions that have been granted palm oillogging and mining, particularly in Papua, where indigenous land rights face a difficult and complicated political backdrop due to a long-simmering separatist conflict.

“This is a defining moment,” added Li. “Does Indonesia really want to protect its forests and indigenous people, or does it want profit and power?”

New financing

Even for the Ogoney, post-recognition concerns remain. Several clan members staged a protest on the property of the PASKA logging company in 2019 after it reportedly failed to build homes, wells and toilets for the community as promised. Although the company has not been operating on their land since the permit expired, the damage is still being felt. “The water has become muddy, it’s hard to find fish,” says Julianus Ogoney, 29.

PASKA did not respond to requests for comment.

The Ministry of Environment and Forestry told Al Jazeera it is working to speed up the recognition process.

“There is good reason to support indigenous peoples,” said Yuli Prasetyo, deputy director of the ministry’s usual forest program. “They know how to best protect and manage their land. We can all learn from that.”

Those efforts received a major boost in May when international donors launched the Nusantara Fund, which will provide up to $20 million over the next decade in what is Indonesia’s first direct funding mechanism for indigenous peoples and local communities.

Back in West Papua, the dawn of a new era of indigenous empowerment could be on the horizon. And while some of the Ogoney were against Yustina when she became the first female chief of the precinct, they’ve since changed their minds.

“Male elders said I wasn’t capable enough,” Yustina said as she paced a dirt road in the rainforest wearing a technicolor headdress, a necklace with a necklace and a hand-woven cloth sarong given to her by her mother.

“I have not responded or acknowledged. Instead, I worked hard. They don’t question me anymore.”

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center’s Rainforest Journalism Fund