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I. N. Parker
– conservation is indeed the same as sacred places. This means that conservation is
regulated in similar ways.” Other informants believe that West Papuans must lead
future efforts to support socio-ecological resilience. A Beteo leader acknowledges
that NGOs have provided some benefits, but he argues that “they don’t know what
conservation is.” He says conservation must first arise from West Papuan communities, who have long safeguarded their resources, “without sasi, without Conservation
International rules, without The Nature Conservancy conservation rules, without the
rules of the government.” Another Papuan advisor believes that government, custom
(adat) and religion should be involved “[b]ecause all three have the power to make
decisions, to protect the people and natural resources.” He harbors hopes for future
political freedom, but also for a rejuvenated indigenous governance through the
Ma’ya Traditional Council (Dewan Adat).
Many West Papuan children now speak about konservasi at home with their
parents following visits by educators who lead environment-focused workshops. For
many Beteo, sasi gereja has become a mechanism for enacting Christian virtues of
communal harmony while showcasing their conservation values. Among the Ma’ya,
sasi mon is a type of spiritual wilderness ethic for respecting places where nature
spirits dwell, as well as a way to map clan-managed territory at a time of increased
competition over resources.
Local forms of conservation have also become a political-economic lever: they
support claims by Biak and Ma’ya villages for official Indonesian government recognition and channel claims for increased material support from conservation organizations to villages. Relatedly, in Ma’yalibit Bay, sasi mon areas have become important
sites for negotiating access and control of valued patches of primary forest or fish
aggregation sites. Sandra Pannell (1997: 298) suggests that sasi practices are relevant
not because of their potential fit with contemporary marine management regimes,
but because they express local understandings about what is sacred, about ownership
and about spatial differentiation. To Nils Bubandt (2005), sasi is a dialectic between
local cultural values and outside political forces. Such practices are not merely a
practical method of ensuring bountiful harvests but also a mechanism for ensuring
the continuity of values about people and nature.
By operationalizing belief and ethical norms, West Papuan environmental practices express a desire to have greater leverage in negotiating over land rights. They
hope for greater partnership with environmental NGOs and outsiders. By representing
sasi gereja and mon prohibitions as analogous types of land and sea-based conservation, Ma’ya and Beteo residents have forged new alliances to confront looming
threats.
West Papuans and other Pacific island communities are navigating increased
threats from overfishing, ecological shocks and habitat fragmentation. As with other
island peoples, they confront species loss, unpredictable rains and ocean acidification.
The sardines and anchovy are gone, but green turtles and manta rays have returned.
Increased migration of traders from Java and Sulawesi islands has created new problems with trash, decreased water quality, and competition for formal jobs. While
tourism seems to be mitigating commercial exploitation of reef ecosystems, nickel
I. N. Parker
– conservation is indeed the same as sacred places. This means that conservation is
regulated in similar ways.” Other informants believe that West Papuans must lead
future efforts to support socio-ecological resilience. A Beteo leader acknowledges
that NGOs have provided some benefits, but he argues that “they don’t know what
conservation is.” He says conservation must first arise from West Papuan communities, who have long safeguarded their resources, “without sasi, without Conservation
International rules, without The Nature Conservancy conservation rules, without the
rules of the government.” Another Papuan advisor believes that government, custom
(adat) and religion should be involved “[b]ecause all three have the power to make
decisions, to protect the people and natural resources.” He harbors hopes for future
political freedom, but also for a rejuvenated indigenous governance through the
Ma’ya Traditional Council (Dewan Adat).
Many West Papuan children now speak about konservasi at home with their
parents following visits by educators who lead environment-focused workshops. For
many Beteo, sasi gereja has become a mechanism for enacting Christian virtues of
communal harmony while showcasing their conservation values. Among the Ma’ya,
sasi mon is a type of spiritual wilderness ethic for respecting places where nature
spirits dwell, as well as a way to map clan-managed territory at a time of increased
competition over resources.
Local forms of conservation have also become a political-economic lever: they
support claims by Biak and Ma’ya villages for official Indonesian government recognition and channel claims for increased material support from conservation organizations to villages. Relatedly, in Ma’yalibit Bay, sasi mon areas have become important
sites for negotiating access and control of valued patches of primary forest or fish
aggregation sites. Sandra Pannell (1997: 298) suggests that sasi practices are relevant
not because of their potential fit with contemporary marine management regimes,
but because they express local understandings about what is sacred, about ownership
and about spatial differentiation. To Nils Bubandt (2005), sasi is a dialectic between
local cultural values and outside political forces. Such practices are not merely a
practical method of ensuring bountiful harvests but also a mechanism for ensuring
the continuity of values about people and nature.
By operationalizing belief and ethical norms, West Papuan environmental practices express a desire to have greater leverage in negotiating over land rights. They
hope for greater partnership with environmental NGOs and outsiders. By representing
sasi gereja and mon prohibitions as analogous types of land and sea-based conservation, Ma’ya and Beteo residents have forged new alliances to confront looming
threats.
West Papuans and other Pacific island communities are navigating increased
threats from overfishing, ecological shocks and habitat fragmentation. As with other
island peoples, they confront species loss, unpredictable rains and ocean acidification.
The sardines and anchovy are gone, but green turtles and manta rays have returned.
Increased migration of traders from Java and Sulawesi islands has created new problems with trash, decreased water quality, and competition for formal jobs. While
tourism seems to be mitigating commercial exploitation of reef ecosystems, nickel