Peat Fires in Borneo: A Carbon Bomb Threatening Southeast Asia

When Peatlands Ignite

It's not just a wildfire — it's a carbon catastrophe.

"The sky grows heavy in Borneo, though not with rain. The air, amber-hued and treacle-thick, is smudged under a blanket of smog that has spilled across international borders – to Singapore, Manila, Kuala Lumpur."

I've been following the developments in Indonesian Borneo closely, and what I'm seeing isn't just another natural disaster. It's a human-made environmental crisis that is unfolding at an alarming rate — and one that could have global implications.

At the heart of this catastrophe are the peatlands, vast ecosystems that have been storing carbon for millennia. But now, these ancient carbon reserves are being released into the atmosphere as fires burn underground, smoldering for months on end, releasing greenhouse gases at an unprecedented pace.

The Science Behind the Smoke

These aren't ordinary wildfires. The peatlands in Kalimantan, part of Borneo's Indonesian section, are home to some of the world's most carbon-dense soils — up to 20 meters deep in places. When they catch fire, it's like a time-release bomb going off, spewing millions of tons of carbon dioxide, methane, and toxic particulates into the air.

"Tropical peatlands in Indonesia are among the world's most effective natural carbon stores. The deeper the peat, the greater the carbon stock – and in Kalimantan, we have found peat deposits that can exceed 20 metres in depth."

Dr. Nisa Novita from Yayasan Konservasi Alam Nusantara explains it well: when peat is drained or burned, the stored carbon is rapidly released — a process that could be described as nature's own version of an environmental time bomb.

The Human Toll

While the scientific community debates the implications of these fires, real people are paying the price. Thousands in Southeast Asia are suffering from respiratory problems, with hospital admissions spiking across the region — especially among children and the elderly.

"Living in this kind of pollution cloud is extremely unhealthy," says Susan Page, a geology professor who has studied peatlands for decades.

In Banjarbaru, South Kalimantan, volunteer firefighters like Dwi Sujatmoko are on the front lines. He and others have been working tirelessly, often in toxic conditions that burn years off their lives. Some of these brave individuals have already paid the ultimate price — two volunteers have died from health complications after battling the fires.

Volunteers Fighting a Losing Battle

The work is exhausting, dangerous, and often futile. Fighting peat fires requires saturating the ground so thoroughly that it becomes "like porridge," according to Sujatmoko. But even with this effort, the fires continue to reignite — like a ghost haunting the depths of the peat swamps.

The most difficult part? The constant exposure to smoke and particulates. Fahrin Ramadhianto describes it as "decaying wood being burned," an acrid smell that carries deep into the lungs. These fires are not just burning vegetation — they're burning carbon that has been stored underground for thousands of years.

The Roots of a Crisis

While peatland fires aren't new to Indonesia, this latest outbreak is rooted in decades of land-use change — primarily driven by industrial expansion. Large-scale agriculture, logging, and plantation development have drained these wetlands, leaving them vulnerable to fire.

"Peatlands aren't really the ideal place to set up a plantation – but of course, once the more suitable mineral soils had been exhausted it became possible, by using large machinery, to drain the peatlands and create conditions which would be dry enough," says Professor Page.

This industrial activity has not only made the fires worse, but also created a chronic problem: even when the fires are extinguished, the drained peat continues to emit carbon dioxide — an invisible but persistent contributor to global emissions.

Indigenous Voices in the Fire

Despite the fact that these industrial activities are at the root of the crisis, it's often the indigenous communities who are blamed for starting fires. Traditional farming practices like uma bukit (hill farming) have been misconstrued as the culprit — despite being deeply rooted in sustainable land-use principles and community stewardship.

Representatives like Tono from the Dayak Kanayatn people argue that their methods of land clearing are carefully planned, adhering to ancestral knowledge that respects ecological balance. Yet they remain under scrutiny while large-scale developers continue to profit from land degradation.

A Call for Action

The fires in Borneo represent more than just a regional environmental issue — they're a warning sign of what could happen on a global scale if we don't act quickly. The burning peatlands are releasing carbon at levels that dwarf the emissions from deforestation alone.

What's clear is that this crisis isn't going to be solved overnight. It will require a coordinated effort between governments, industries, and communities — one that balances immediate firefighting needs with long-term sustainable practices. We must also re-evaluate our relationship with these fragile ecosystems, which are not only crucial for climate regulation but also home to unique biodiversity.

Looking Forward

As I continue to follow this story, one thing is certain: the people of Borneo — volunteers like Sujatmoko and his team — are doing everything they can to protect not only their homes but the planet itself. They're fighting a battle that's both literally and figuratively on the ground. And if we don't act now, this carbon bomb could go off even bigger.

What's needed is a shift in policy — toward stricter environmental oversight of land-use projects, better fire prevention strategies, and more robust support for local communities who are often left to fight these fires alone.