When residents of Solor in East Nusa Tenggara decided they would no longer blast fish into oblivion, they didn't wait for distant government officials to write new rules—they reached into their own history and revived the old ways. Across the small islands of eastern Indonesia's Wallacea region, one of the world's most biodiverse marine areas, coastal communities are doing something that Western conservation often struggles with: putting local wisdom back at the center of protection, and discovering that it works.
This shift is now documented in a film called Jejak Wallacea, which follows a movement spanning four provinces—East Nusa Tenggara, South Sulawesi, Southeast Sulawesi, and Central Sulawesi—where indigenous and local communities are reviving customary systems to safeguard the ecosystems they depend on. Rather than imposing top-down restrictions, these approaches are rooted in traditional knowledge that has sustained these waters for generations. "What we chose was conservation, but based on local wisdom," said Vero Lamahoda, director of Yayasan Tanah Ile Boleng, the local foundation supporting these communities in the transition.
In Solor, the strategy centers on what residents call "marine granaries"—kebang lewa lolon in the local language—traditionally protected areas designed to restore coral reefs. The community has also established turtle hatcheries and moved away from destructive blast fishing. Southeast Sulawesi's village of Wabula employs a customary system called Kaombo, which regulates access to seagrass beds and mangroves through both fines and traditional rituals like Kaleo Leo, an ordeal-by-water test. On Langkai and Lanjukang islands in South Sulawesi, communities enforce periodic closures of marine areas during octopus fishing season, allowing populations time to rebound.
The results speak louder than any policy paper. A study by researchers at Burung Indonesia, the Indonesian affiliate of BirdLife International, found that these community-led efforts have helped recover at least seven key marine species: the Banggai cardinalfish, green sea turtle, hawksbill turtle, pelagic thresher shark, and dugong, among others. In South Sulawesi alone, seminatural turtle hatcheries managed by communities released nearly 4,000 sea turtle hatchlings. In the Banggai Islands, mangrove restoration has stabilized crab populations—animals that are essential to local food security and livelihoods.
The economic implications are staggering. Film director Sam August Himmawan captured the stakes plainly: "If mangroves disappear, then the crabs will disappear too. The economic multiplier effect is enormous." It's a reminder that conservation isn't separate from survival—it's the same thing.
Yet sustainability of these initiatives depends on one crucial factor: formal recognition and support from national government. Angga Yoga, a terrestrial program specialist at Burung Indonesia, emphasized the organization's goal of strengthening civil society capacity so that communities can design their own conservation mechanisms rather than having restrictions imposed on them. That shift—from outside mandates to internal ownership—may be what makes this moment different. The people of Wallacea aren't waiting to be saved by distant institutions. They're saving themselves, and teaching the rest of us how to listen.