5
Exoti Fication, Conservation and the History of Natural Heritage in Indonesia
In 1991, the islands of Komodo and Rinca and the surrounding seas became a UNESCO World Heritage site. Komodo National Park was among the first World Heritage sites in Southeast Asia, along with three other sites in Indonesia and three in Thailand, all chosen in the same year. In a document submitted during the initial application process, it was noted that the greatest challenge in giving the Komodo region such international recognition was determining its ‘particular importance to science and conservation in the global context of other islands’ (WCMC/IUCN 1991b: 27). In the same report, it also was noted that Komodo Island ‘is physiographically quite typical of the small, low-rising islands in the Eastern Lesser Sundas’, and ‘its terrestrial species richness is moderate’ pointing to it not being a very good candidate (ibid.: 25). These islands located between Flores and Sumbawa, however, are home to the largest lizard in the world, the Komodo dragon (Varanus komodoensis), but beyond the presence of this large lizard there is little else to support its nomination as a World Heritage site. The application for Komodo National Park is of interest as it reflects efforts in Indonesia to gain global recognition for ‘natural sites’ based upon the presence of megafauna, an appproach based in colonial-era policies.
Of the fifteen World Heritage sites in island Southeast Asia, eight are classified as ‘natural’, while one is ‘mixed’. Indonesia has seven of these sites, including the Borobodur and Prambanan temple complexes. Of the seven sites in Indonesia, four – specifically, Komodo National Park, Ujung Kulon National Park in western Java, Lorentz National Park in Papua province and ‘Tropical Rainforest Heritage of Sumatra’ (which encompasses three national parks scattered over the island) – are related to the ‘natural’ environment. Malaysia has three World Heritage sites in four locations. The first two were listed in 2000 and are natural wonders. They are Gunung Mulu National Park and Kinabalu Park, both located on Borneo. In 2008 the colonial cities of Melaka and Georgetown joined these two national parks as World Heritage sites in Malaysia. In the Philippines there are five World Heritage sites, of which two are natural wonders – the Tubbataha Reefs Natural Park and Puerto Princesa Subterranean River National Park – while a third – the Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras – is a ‘mixed’ site. As of 2011, Brunei, Singapore and Timor Leste do not have designated World Heritage sites.
The percentage of ‘natural’ World Heritages sites in island Southeast Asia – roughly 60 per cent – is much higher than the global average of some 20 per cent. This disproportionate percentage also stands out when comparing island Southeast Asia with its mainland counterparts. Both regions have similar numbers of sites, with the nations of mainland Southeast Asia (Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam – Myanmar does not participate in the program) also having fifteen World Heritage sites. In mainland Southeast Asia, however, only four of the heritage sites are ‘natural’. Why the disparity? Both regions have numerous places of natural beauty that could be featured, as well as man-made monuments and buildings.
This chapter will discuss the role that colonial history played in the development and selection of natural heritage sites in Indonesia. Dutch conservation policies and their focus on the protection of single, exoticised animals, such as the Javan rhinoceros (Rhinoceros sondaicus), Komodo dragon and orangutan in the Netherlands East Indies led to the development of colonial era nature reserves, which decades later were given World Heritage status. While much of this protection is found in the promulgation of a number of ordinances restricting hunting and trapping of ‘celebrity species’, or those with high ‘visibility’ (Cribb 2007; Boomgaard 1999), the development of a park system to protect their habitat was the culmination of a number of different forces, ranging from scientific research, changing understandings of hunting and the influence of external conservation groups, all of which led to the development of an exoticised exaggeration of the worth of large fauna in the Archipelago during the colonial era that made them a focus of attention and preservation. This legacy of conservation of natural heritage in Indonesia still echoes today, resulting in global recognition of Indonesian national parks as World Heritage sites. In this chapter I draw upon archival resources to show how these World Heritage sites and broader conservation policies in the region emerged from a complex mix of colonial interests in the natural heritage of the archipelago.
Early Dutch Conservation and its in Fluence on Ujung Kulon and Komodo
While the Javan rhinoceros and the Komodo dragon are unique charismatic species today, understandings of them have differed in the past. The Javan rhinoceros is indigenous to Ujung Kulon, a small spit of land at the western tip of Java. Explorers and locals have known of the existence of the rhinoceros in this region for centuries, as it is found on the massively populated island of Java, and it has long been the focus of hunting parties and other ecological pressures (Hoogerwerf 1970). The Komodo dragon in many respects is the opposite. Unknown to outsiders before the twentieth century and from a sparsely populated area, even locals who encountered a Komodo dragon thought of it as nothing more than a large lizard, much like the more common water monitor lizard (Varanus salvator), which is slightly smaller but can be found throughout much of Southeast Asia. The Komodo dragon only came to the attention of Dutch scientists in 1910 and its existence was first announced in a relatively obscure journal published in 1912 (Ouwens 1912). Whether known for several centuries or recently ‘discovered’, both animals became the focus of conservation efforts during the first half of the twentieth century.
Despite its location at the entrance to one of the key straits in the Archipelago, Ujung Kulon was never the focus of settlement for early residents of the region or the Dutch. By the mid-nineteenth century the area was known for its timber supplies as well as its abundant beeswax and honey, and there were accounts of government expeditions sighting rhinos. The eruption of Krakatoa in 1883 led to destructive tidal waves and the few residents of the region either dying or fleeing, which was further reinforced when those who resettled were plagued with malaria and tiger attacks. The prevalence of disease as well as other dangers finally led to the Dutch banning settlement in the region at the beginning of the twentieth century. The force and importance of the Krakatoa eruption made the western tip of Java a place that fascinated scientists and the general public, and this soon converged with a growing importance placed upon science and nature in the Netherlands East Indies, which would set the stage for the development of the region as a nature reserve in the subsequent decades (Hoogerwerf 1970: 9–11).
Komodo and its surrounding islands were, in contrast, an overlooked region in the vast Indonesian Archipelago. The meagre pre-1912 literature that mentioned Komodo can best be summarised in a brief note of the area in an 1847 survey of the island of Sumbawa. In his account of the area, the author Herman Zollinger (1850, 1856: 238) describes the region beyond the shores of eastern Sumbawa:
Here we find the much frequented Strait of Sapi, which is separated from the Strait of Manggareij by the island of Komodo, and with these divides the islands of Bima and Flores from each other. The current in this Strait is very strong […]
There is no mention of enormous lizards or anything else that would interest people in the region. Komodo and its surrounding islands contained no natural resources, very few people and little to make a stop worthwhile. This is why the islands were relatively unexplored until 1912 when the presence of a large lizard was first mentioned. The earliest notice of Komodo among naturalists occurred in 1907 when J. T. Dingeman, the manager of a pearling company, sent an orchid from the island to the Buitenzorg Botanical Gardens (Hoogerwerf 1953/54: 10–11).
The first known report of enormous lizards in eastern Indonesia appeared in 1912 in an account that P. A. Ouwens, a retired officer in the Dutch East Indies military who had become a curator at the Zoological Museum in Buitenzorg, published in one of the research centre’s publications. The report had come out of correspondence between Ouwens and J. K. H. van Steyn van Hensbroek, an administrator on the island of Flores, which began in 1910. Van Steyn van Hensbroek had heard reports of a ‘boeaja darat’ – or land crocodile, a large Varanus species from the island of Komodo that ‘may even attain a length of 6 to 7 meters’ – from some European residents of Labuanbajo, a nearby port mainly used as a base for pearling ships, who had visited Komodo to hunt wild game and came across the large animals. Following this correspondence the large lizards of Komodo gained the attention of Dutch scientists and officials who were creating research centres to study the flora and fauna of the East Indies (Ouwens 1912: 1–2). It is from here that they would become the focus of conservation.
The earliest attempts at conservation in Ujung Kulong and Komodo occurred against a backdrop of growing environmental consciousness. Robert Cribb has argued that much of the rise of environmental consciousness in the Archipelago beginning in the years following 1910 was the result of colonial paternalism, in which the authorities perceived the indigenous peoples as perpetuating environmental destruction through their traditional activities while the colonial middle class and indigenous elite promoted the development of bourgeois activities such as hunting with permits and licenses as well as protecting endangered species (Cribb 2007). The development of laws and nature reserves in the colony was not only part of a nascent global movement of environmental consciousness but also a reflection of how the rulers perceived a distant tropical land that was understood through exaggerated images of primitive cultures and wildlife that needed protection. In such a conception of the colony, the ‘natives’ did not understand the wealth that surrounded them and needed Western guidance to harness its potential. Javan rhinoceros and Komodo dragons were not the beginning of environmental protection in the Netherlands East Indies. They were, however, a unique subset within the various regulations limiting access to wildlife in the Dutch colony due to their isolation and unique status as a recently discovered species, as well as ignorance of their habitat and biology. Their status as unique species, however, would bring more attention to the areas they inhabited.
Most research and interest in the conservation of nature and endangered species of the Netherlands East Indies originated in the Buitenzorg Botanical Gardens, the leading centre for science in the Indies, which also included a zoological park (Goss 2009; Adas 1989).1 Although the first nature reserve in the Netherlands East Indies was created in 1889, when a mountainous area on Java known as Tjibodas was set-aside for scientists to conduct their work at a higher elevation, true efforts at conservation only took place at the end of the next decade, beginning with regulations regarding the capture or hunting of wild animals (Cribb 2007: 53). Many of these regulations were promulgated due to the trade in popular items of the day, ranging from the feathers of birds of paradise – popular for the fashion industry in Europe and the United States – as well as various animal parts that were popular in Chinese cuisine and medicine.
Beginning in 1898 the authorities tasked J. C. Koningsberger, who eventually became the director of the Botanical Gardens from 1911 to 1917, to conduct research on birds on Java with the goal of determining their economic value and which ones should be protected. His research influenced the structure of the first legal measure to protect wildlife in the Netherlands East Indies, the 1909 Ordinance to Protect Certain Mammals and Birds, which covered all wild animals (except those designated by the Governor-General) unless they were considered to be pests. The caveat related to pests greatly weakened the ordinance, as the animals that were regarded as being pests were numerous and included all monkeys – which also meant the orangutan – as well as a number of game birds and animals that were traditionally hunted throughout the Archipelago (Cribb 1997; Cribb 2007: 52–55; Dammerman 1929: 2, 10–11; Heynen 1939: 24–25).
The development of both regulations and the expansion of nature reserves in the Netherlands Indies gained further momentum when officials in the Forestry Service, many of whom were unhappy with the problems inherent in the 1909 ordinance, founded the Netherlands Indies Society for the Protection of Nature (Nederlands-Indische Vereniging voor Natuurbescherming) in mid-1912. The government recognised the organisation the next year. The importance placed on what would become national parks can be seen in the first Annual Report that the Society produced, in which S. H. Koorders, the first Chairman, describes a journey to Ujung Kulon and its numerous large animals. Although he saw wild water buffalo, tigers and deer, Koorders was only able to report that he had seen the hoofprints – or ‘fresh spoor’ – of a Javan rhinoceros. This report led to the society, in one of its first actions, to request that Ujung Kulon be designated as a nature reserve. The request was denied (Hoogerwerf 1970: 11; Boomgaard 1999).
The denial to create a nature reserve in Ujung Kulon in the 1910s may have been due to the government waiting to see the effects of its 1909 Ordinance, as the hunting of Javan rhinoceros had just been deemed illegal. The denial of the request to create a nature reserve, however, was disheartening to Society members. Due to its proximity to Batavia (Jakarta), Ujung Kulon was becoming a destination for big game hunters in the 1910s. The hunters, including Chinese interested in the rhinoceros for the supposed medicinal value of their horns, created a concern among the small – but powerful – group of conservationists as well as ‘bona fide big game hunters’ (Hoogerwerf 1970: 12). This alliance between conservationists and game hunters was possible in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries as conservation had, in its earliest forms, arisen out of a desire among these groups to preserve habitat, whether for hunting or for science. At this time, the interest was in curtailing massive destructive hunting, which was usually attributed to locals using traditional methods. Bourgeois hunting parties bagging a pre-set number of animals, on the other hand, were seen as cultured and acceptable.
An approach acceptable to middle class Dutch sensibilities, with inherent conflicting desires to restrict and continue hunting based on European understandings of conservation, therefore became the order of the day. Such attempts can be seen in the Society for the Protection of Nature’s urging of the Resident of the area to enact further restrictions to outlaw the hunting of water buffalo, deer and mouse deer in 1914, as these animals – which could provide food – were not unique enough to provide a bourgeois hunter with a trophy or a sense of danger. Hunters, however, could still venture to Ujung Kulon to hunt tiger, panther and wild boar, which were not covered under any regulation. In addition, the penalties – a maximum of eight days in jail and a fine of 100 guilders – did little to deter those interested in bagging a Javan rhinoceros. For Ujung Kulon there were prohibitions against further hunting, but very little actual protection, although the Society for the Protection of Nature tried to have all humans banned from the park as well as the appointment of two game wardens. Such local attempts continued into the 1920s when the Governor of West Java and other administrators requested boats and wardens be assigned to Ujung Kulon. These requests were routinely refused (Hoogerwerf 1970: 14–15).
While Dutch conservationists could appeal to their compatriots in Java, on the edges of European authority appeals had to be made with local rulers to enact their own legislation. The Sultan of Bima in eastern Sumbawa – who had traditional rights over Komodo and its surrounding islands – was one of the 280 local rulers the Society for the Protection of Nature approached. In 1916, colonial officials who were members of the Society urged the Sultan of Bima to issue a decree protecting the large lizard and banning possession or export of its body parts. This was the first legislation to protect the Komodo dragon and it would remain in effect for ten years (Cribb 2007: 52–55; Dammerman 1929: 10–11; Hoogerwerf 1953/54: 12).
The tensions that such regulations created between indigenous traditional perspectives of the environment with those of the colonial Dutch authorities can be seen in the relationship between the Sultan of Bima and colonial officials. Although the sultan had issued decrees protecting the Komodo dragon, he still gave approval to traditional hunting parties to operate on Komodo, where they sought the abundant deer and swine on the island. Dutch administrators in western Flores felt that his approval of traditional hunters, as well as providing support to foreign expeditions to Komodo, was against the spirit of conserving their area. Dutch officials in Batavia eventually legislated away his authority in 1919 by restructuring administrative boundaries in which they placed Komodo under the control of Manggarai in western Flores. Despite such administrative restructuring, the Sultan of Bima continued to exercise enormous influence over access to Komodo as most foreign expeditions in search of the Komodo dragon prior to World War Two stopped in Bima to obtain supplies and coolies for their collecting trips. Throughout the 1920s his continuing influence in a territory that stretched into western Flores was the subject of numerous reports that finally resulted in fraud charges being brought against his primary advisor, the Raja Bitjara, in the early 1930s.2
Attempts to bypass local rulers, who may not follow European sensitivities with regard to conservation, led to further attempts to classify lands as specially designated areas. By 1916 a government ordinance which allowed the Governor-General to designate lands as nature reserves was enacted. Over the next decade the government designated seventy-six nature reserves in the Dutch East Indies, including Komodo Island and Ujung Kulon. Of these, twenty-one were located outside of Java, also reflecting a growing confidence in Dutch control over the Buitenlanden (Outer areas) (Dammerman 1929: 22–24). Such efforts at expanding nature reserves became a vital tool for environmental protection and scientific research and followed growing conservation trends throughout the Western world in the latenineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. Dutch attempts at preventing destructive ‘local’ practices, which did not take into account the perceived benefit of large species, would come into full swing.
Hunting and Trading the Exotic
In 1915, an association of big game hunters operating under the acronym VENATORIA (Society for the Promotion of Animal Sciences) petitioned the government for the right to hunt in Ujung Kulon, for which they would take on the responsibility of conservation of wildlife in the area. The Society for the Protection of Nature supported this request, believing that it would help conserve the area but defer costs the government may not have been willing to accept, ‘while achieving at the same time the scientifically important result of preserving the Javan rhinoceros’ (Hoogerwerf 1970: 13–14). The petition on behalf of the big game hunters was denied. Ujung Kulon only received protection in 1921 – five years after the initial 1916 Ordinance allowing for the development of nature reserves – when at the urging of the Society for the Protection of Nature the government created a nature reserve that covered 300 square kilometers at the western tip of Java. The designation of ‘nature reserve’ meant that absolutely no hunting activities could take place, no land reclamation could occur and no one could settle in the park. The regulations that established these reserves also pertained to Komodo as well as areas in Sumatra that later became World Heritage sites (ibid.: 14–15). The government would now control conservation activities, mainly through the Department of Agriculture and the Buitenzorg Botanical Gardens.
Much of the government activity with regard to conservation, including the development of nature reserves, was due to the trade in living fauna from the Netherlands East Indies, which was quite lucrative in the first few decades of the twentieth century. For example, over 69,000 live animals were exported from the Netherlands East Indies in 1918, and the number rose to over 350,000 by 1925. These numbers do not include farm animals, such as poultry, cattle or swine. Most of this trade was in wild animals from Java, particularly birds (Dammerman 1929: 16–17, 88–89). While the Dutch authorities never tried to stop this trade – they only hoped to monitor it – much of their concern was in the trade of large, fetishised animals, such as the orangutan, which were the focus of many expeditions as well as hunting regulations. This concern was related to the role that such animals played in displaying the exotic in natural history museums and zoological parks throughout the world, all under the rubric of scientific research (Boomgaard 1997; Boomgaard 2000; Cribb 2007).
In an effort to fill demand, wild game collectors maintained offices in Batavia as well as Singapore, which was the main location for export. The most famous of these collectors in the 1910s and 1920s was Frank Buck, as he was also one of the best at publicising his exploits. Buck maintained a compound in the Katong region of Singapore and during his intermittent stays in the British colonial port he claimed to have exported thirty-nine elephants, sixty tigers, fifty-two orangutans as well as 10,000 mammals and 100,000 birds (Buck 2000; Croke 1997: 156). Most of these animals were from the Netherlands East Indies and destined for the American market, where Buck was filling orders for circuses and zoos.
The continuing expansion of animal export – mainly due to a lack of enforcement and the impracticability of even expecting enforcement over an area as vast as the East Indies – combined with the growing demand for particularly rare animals from the region, led to a new ordinance in 1924 (known as the Wildlife Protection and Game Ordinance). The new ordinance took the opposite tack of the 1909 regulation, which had protected all animals unless otherwise mentioned, allowing for the protection of only sixty-one specifically designated animals. The list mainly focused on birds, but also included rare and unique species such as the Java rhinoceros, orangutan, and ‘giant monitor’ of Komodo, as well as animals that were considered ‘useful, such as many insect-eating mammals and birds’ (Dammerman 1929: 3). The 1924 Ordinance also had additional regulations related to hunting, such as requiring a permit for anyone using a firearm to hunt animals, thus solidifying a trend that had begun earlier in the century in which hunting had become an imperial initiative that reflected Dutch sobriety and controlled access to riches of the Archipelago. Problems remained however as, once again, its enforcement was effectively limited to Java and Madura, where hunting licenses would be required and hunting seasons limited to a few months a year (Boomgaard 1999: 268–69; Cribb 2007: 55–56; Dammerman 1929: 3, Appendix II).
While the 1924 Ordinance did not ban the export of protected species, it did require that an export license be issued if anyone wished to take one out of the Netherlands East Indies. The heads of regional administration were to issue these licenses and inform the Department of Agriculture so they could ensure that this system was not being abused. Two of the greatest concerns voiced in Batavia were the activities of poachers who desired animals for their valuable parts (such as rhinoceros horns) and the role of hunters acting outside of the standards of a colonial elite that saw hunting as a sport. To limit such poachers the 1924 Hunting Ordinance had banned the use of nets, snares and pits to catch game – all common for those trying to capture a Komodo dragon – as well as the burning of grass to drive game into a kill zone.
Once they were established as nature reserves and hunting restrictions had been enacted, each of these future World Heritage sites experienced little change in how they were accessed throughout the 1920s. As one conservationist wrote of Ujung Kulon, ‘it seemed as if all those who had advocated the safeguarding of this unique territory had been fully satisfied by the paper decision’ (Hoogerwerf 1970: 15). But very little monitoring of activities in the parks took place and poachers remained a serious problem in each locale. This can be seen in reports throughout the 1920s and 1930s. Scientists from the Botanical Gardens visited the parks on a fairly regular basis, with Ujung Kulon being visited every two years between 1926 and 1932 while Komodo was the focus of two major expeditions in 1927 and 1936. During each visit there was evidence of poachers as well as the use of fire to direct their game into a kill zone. One big game hunter, De Kanter, visited Ujung Kulon seven times between 1932 and 1934 and his extensive reports paint a picture of large fauna in rapid decline, creating ecological change in the park. For example, the death of numerous water buffalo resulted in grasslands being overgrown with bushes and trees, and between 1929 and 1936 it was estimated that poachers killed at least twenty Javan rhinoceros. Attempts to limit these activities – such as when J. C. Ligtvoet, the governor of West Java, requested patrols to secure the park – were usually denied in Batavia (ibid.: 15–16).
Problems related to hunters from the mid-1920s until the late-1930s also occurred at Komodo. The hunting of lizards on Komodo, however, was not a popular activity as its parts were of little value. While they had attracted the interest of the Chinese in the Netherlands East Indies, as the tail was thought to be a good remedy against burns, it was not thought to be more effective than those of other lizards. This led scientists who visited the region to conclude that the lizard was in a good position and not under direct threat from hunters. Rather, it was the food supply that was under threat (Collins 2003: 160; Cribb 2007: 57; de Jong 1937: 173–74, 179).
The concern over hunters destroying the food supply of the Komodo dragon was legitimate. J. K. de Jong – who made visits to Komodo in 1927 and 1936 and wrote the most influential reports in the efforts to create reserves on the island – reported that when he went to Loho Boeaja, a known place to capture lizards on Rinca in 1929, he was unable to get any specimens or even detect the presence of any, as a month and a half prior to his arrival a massive deer hunt had taken place in the area. The hunting was on horseback, with dogs and fire used to drive the deer into a kill zone. Because of this, no deer were found when de Jong visited. This meant that there was no wildlife (except for monkeys) in the area. He also witnessed such a phenomenon on a smaller scale when he visited Flores in 1937. Such hunting practices, while not directed at the Komodo lizard, damaged their environment and threatened their food supply and ultimately their existence (de Jong 1937: 207).
De Jong was not the only person to comment on the threat that hunters posed to the Komodo dragon in the 1930s. According to an article in De Locomotief on 3 July 1937, there had been a yacht – the Sho Fong, owned by an American named Baker and with a ten-man crew – in the harbor at Labuanbajo that was looking for lizards. In addition, anthropologist and filmmaker Paul Fejos, who also visited Komodo in 1937, reported that local hunters had set fire to the alang-alang grass to force deer down ravines so they were easily captured. As he wrote (in English): ‘[t]he vandal method of burning up hectares of vegetation to chase two or three deers to the seashore, is undoubtedly causing the death of many of the varanes, who perish in the fire on the mountainsides’ (Collins 2003: 126–27; Hoogerwerf 1953/54: 42–44).
To prevent further damage to the habitat of the Komodo dragon, de Jong recommended that a game reserve be established. The wildlife reserve de Jong proposed not only protected a unique resource but, equally importantly, its food supply. He argued that the reserve should fulfill the following conditions: it should be large enough to sustain the number of animals and other wildlife as he found it and (key to this proposal) large enough that the dragons’ food source of pigs and deer could support themselves (Hoogerwerf 1953/54: 40; de Jong 1937: 207).
Much like de Jong, Hoogerwerf – the assistant to the Director of the Botanical Gardens with the portfolio of nature protection and wildlife management – was sent to assess Ujung Kulon in 1937. He found that the park was in serious need of monitoring. The death of water buffalo had led to bushes and trees regenerating, and thus not allowing for growth of the grass that such ruminates required. Hoogerwerf observed a high rate of malnutrition among the water buffalo and estimated that only twenty to twenty-five Javan rhinoceros survived. To help the ecosystem recover Hoogerwerf drew up a policing schedule, which called for patrols to radiate out of four or five different camps, and for an expansion of patrol trails but a halt in road construction (Hoogerwerf 1970: 18–19).
Following these reports the government of the Netherlands Indies changed the status of these various nature reserves to ‘game sanctuaries’ from 1937, placing them under the management of the Forestry Service. In Komodo this resulted in the area being strictly off limits to all foreign scientific expeditions seeking a Komodo dragon until after World War Two. On the western tip of Java, Ujung Kulon expanded to encompass more than 350 square kilometers and its new status allowed for the consideration of different approaches on how to protect the area, which was much easier to access than Komodo. Roads were built to and into Ujung Kulon under the belief that it would allow wardens quicker access to the region and allow them to cover more ground. These were then leased out to logging interests and the funds generated were to pay for more monitoring facilities. For example, a checkpoint (which was constantly manned) was built on the road leading into Ujung Kulon and ‘an extensive espionage system was organized’. Leasing the area out to big game hunting enterprises was also considered, although the Japanese invasion ultimately stalled its implementation (Hoogerwerf 1970: 17–18).
International Recognition and Pressure
While hunters had provided some of the impetus for the development of game reserves in the Netherlands East Indies, the role of international conservationist organisations and exaggerated publicity also played a role. By the mid-1920s the shift began to occur and in many respects the designation of ‘game reserve’ for these future World Heritage sites was a result of the publicity their large charismatic inhabitants brought to the region. This is particularly clear with the large lizards of Komodo. Although the Komodo dragon had first been brought to the attention of the world in 1912, expeditions from both Europe and America sought the large lizard for display in zoological gardens and natural history museums and the fascination this engendered in the Western public imagination brought increased attention to such ‘dramatic and symbolic lifeforms’.
One of the most important figures in the exoticisation of the Komodo dragon was W. Douglas Burden. The son of an iron and steel baron, Burden participated in an expedition to Komodo in 1926. He brought two living Komodo dragons back to New York City, where they became a sensation during the two months they survived. More importantly, Burden was not shy about publicising his role in bringing this unique species to the West. He published several articles in the popular journals of the day (including National Geographic) and wrote a book detailing his exploits during his journey to Komodo from America (Burden 1927a; Burden 1927b). Dragon Lizards of Komodo, Burden’s account of the expedition, became a phenomenon among those fascinated with the exotic east as well as an imagined prehistoric past; it even played a role in the development of the 1933 film King Kong, which mimicked much of the narrative of Burden’s book (Barnard 2009).
Through publicity and promotion Burden developed and created the image of Komodo lizards throughout the world, transforming them from a large reptile into ‘dragons’, and it was this image that fueled the work of scientists, collectors and explorers for decades. The exaggeration of the Komodo dragon’s ferocity, size and rarity fueled discussions and debates in the Dutch Parliament (Volksraad) and among conservationist groups in the Netherlands hoping to protect such a unique species. While many collectors were working under the guise of developing scientific knowledge in the West, efforts at dealing with these adventurers and scientists often resulted in stricter regulations and access, thus making the animal even more valuable.
While colonial conservationists were important in visiting and assessing lands in the Netherlands East Indies, it must be remembered that policy was set in The Hague. As foreign scientific institutions tried to gain access to these unique species, it led to questions revolving around diplomacy and protecting the welfare of a distant colony for many Dutch politicians. An example of such a dilemma appears in the fallout over the diplomatic niceties extended to Burden during his 1926 expedition, which focused a spotlight on colonial policies that were developed to limit hunting (except as a bourgeois pastime), while also wishing to support scientific research in the tropics. The ambivalence this created in Dutch society – one of protecting the unique life forms in the Indonesian Archipelago while also being respected members of the international community – resonated in the Netherlands as Dutch politicians began making enquiries to their colonial counterparts. This was particularly true if the blurry line between hunting and scientific research was crossed. For example, in 1928 Eugene Dubois, the famous paleoanthropologist and discoverer of ‘Java Man’, questioned in the Dutch Parliament the access Burden had been given to Komodo after reading about the American expedition in the journal Natural History. Dubois focused on the permission Burden was given to kill or capture fifteen lizards, and the report that his team had released many others that had been captured. Dubois felt that these hunting and capture rights were excessive for such a rare species, even under the auspices of a scientific institution. Although some restrictions had been enacted in 1927, Dubois called for details on how these lizards had been captured and argued for a closer consideration of the effect such expeditions would have on their population. Such enquiries from the Netherlands were constantly asked of officials who were trying to balance science and administration in the 1920s and 1930s (Anonymous 1928).
In addition to politicians, organisations in the Netherlands also played an increasingly important role in questioning the enforcement of environmental regulations and the balance between exploitation and science in the Netherlands East Indies. These organisations usually promoted policies that were more restrictive than the ones that Dubois and officials in the Dutch colony would have required. Among the most influential was the Netherlands Commission for International Natural Reserves (Nederlandsche Commissie voor Internationale Natuurberscherming), which mainly dealt with various worldwide developments with regard to nature conservation. Scattered throughout the pages of its reports are frequent discussions concerning the access that scientific institutions had to Komodo during the 1920s and 1930s, as well as attempts to protect the Javan rhinoceros. The Commission noted with alarm in a 1926 report, for example, that the Governor-General of the Netherlands Indies and the Minister of Colonies had provided equipment (such as access to the S.S. Dog) to Burden for travel to Komodo to capture the ‘Great Lizard’. The Commission was horrified that such government resources had been used to take a rare animal from its habitat and urged that an immediate and total ban on the capture of rare animals be put in place, moving beyond Dubois’ objections to hunting (Anonymous 1926).
The Commission proposed a general export ban on certain species be enacted, and the requirement that a license (which would specify the maximum number of each species) be issued for specific, rare animals that were needed for scientific purposes (Anonymous 1928). At this time, in late 1926 and early 1927 (and reflecting a reaction to the Burden Expedition), Dutch authorities in Flores issued their own set of restrictions as those that the Sultan of Bima promulgated expired after ten years. These new restrictions forbade the capture or killing of a Komodo lizard as well as the possession of the skin or body parts and the removal of lizard eggs or disturbance of a nest (Hoogerwerf 1953/54: 21–22). These regulations reflect attempts at both the local and national level to address issues related to the trade in rare animals. As a result of these regulations, a 1927 German expedition – under the leadership of leading biologists Bernhard Rensch and Robert Mertens – was prohibited from approaching Komodo (Anonymous 1929; Rensch 1930). With the attention of those in the colonial metropole, there subsequently followed an increased commitment to conservation in the Netherlands Indies, although Dutch officials in the colony often saw it as meddling. From the perspective of those in Europe, however, it was easiest to focus on unique, large species, the same ones that had been receiving publicity in the Western press. With their support, or meddling, a Protection of Wildlife Ordinance (which further narrowed down the 1924 Ordinance list of protected animals from sixty-one to twenty-two, but included the Javan rhinoceros and the Komodo dragon and totally banned their export) was passed in 1931 (Boomgaard 1999: 274).
An example of the commitment to conservation of large fauna since 1931 can be seen in the career of A. Hoogerwerf, whose extensive writings are associated with both Komodo and Ujung Kulon and who played the vital role in proclaiming Ujung Kulon a game reserve. Although Hoogerwerf first arrived in the Netherlands East Indies in 1932, he continued to work promoting conservation in Indonesia well into the 1950s. In much of his conservationist efforts he focused on ‘larger fauna’ and ‘their preservation’ (Hoogerwerf 1970: 1). The role that these megafauna played can be seen in a plea he made in the 1950s, which reflected a continuity in colonial policies in newly independent Indonesia:
[…] if we do not make every effort, the unique National Nature Park of Udjung Kulon (situated in West Java) will in the not too distant future be robbed of the one-horned rhino, the badak of Java, the most important relic of bygone days still living in Indonesia […] I am making a heartfelt appeal to all who can do something to avert this fate and to spare Indonesia the international disgrace that the loss of this animal species would mean.
(ibid.: 4)
The same focus was also placed on the Komodo dragon, as well as other celebrity species. In the introduction to Hoogerwerf’s assessment of Ujung Kulon, the author claims that ‘Indonesia has the responsibility of ensuring the survival of many other important natural treasures unique to the world, including such fine animal species as the Sumatran rhino […] the orangutan […] and the Komodo dragon’ (ibid.: 4). This responsibility is now shared with the United Nations, as Dutch era policies have become both Indonesian national ones, as well as an important aspect of global heritage efforts.
Conclusion
The emphasis on natural heritage sites such as Komodo National Park in Indonesia, and their dependence on unique species, reflects both a dilemma and a legacy. The core of this dilemma is discussed in the proposal to make Komodo a World Heritage site, which notes ‘the importance of Komodo National Park to conservation is a subjective judgment, since it can be argued that loss of smaller, almost unnoticed species can be just as important as a loss of more dramatic ones’, and goes on to emphasise that the preservation of more diverse ecosystems may be more advisable (WCMC/IUCN 1991b: 28). Despite problems related to such a proposal, the main author of the report – James Thorsell, one of the main evaluators of applications for World Heritage sites that were designated as ‘natural’ during the 1980s and 1990s – pointed out the ‘substantial conservation awareness value (both within Indonesia and overseas) to relatively modest projects which concentrate on the dramatic and symbolic lifeforms for which Indonesians have considerable pride and sympathy’ (ibid.). With this one sentence the report reflects much about sites in Indonesia designated as ‘natural’ in the World Heritage system and how they are understood in and with regard to Southeast Asia.
Of the four sites in Indonesia that achieved World Heritage status in 1991, two place an emphasis on ‘dramatic and symbolic lifeforms’. While Komodo National Park is focused around the world’s largest lizard, Ujung Kulon National Park contains the extremely limited habitat of the rare Javan rhinoceros. This emphasis on a rare species can be found in the application for recognition for Ujung Kulon in which it was noted that the park – which also houses the remnants of the Krakatoa volcano that erupted dramatically in 1883 – was home to ‘the last viable natural population’ for the Javan rhinoceros; meanwhile, although the 2003 application for the ‘Tropical Rainforest Heritage of Sumatra’ focuses on the rich biodiversity of the parks, the report also emphasises ‘the opportunity to conserve a number of endangered and charismatic species, such as Sumatran orangutan, Sumatran tiger and Sumatran rhino’ (WCMC/IUCN 1991a: 33; WHC 2004: 37). In contrast, other nations in Southeast Asia have not deemed it appropriate to make similar applications for unique charismatic species such as the tarsiers of the Philippines or the freshwater dolphins of the Mekong River.
The specific focus on unique charismatic species in the applications for World Heritage status in Indonesia, thus points to a legacy. This legacy originated in early twentieth-century approaches and attitudes that Dutch scientists and wildlife officials promoted throughout Indonesia, when it was known as the Netherlands East Indies, with regard to its natural environment. Such species – whether Komodo dragons, orangutans or Javan rhinoceros – have possessed a charismatic hold over conservation policies since that time, providing both the focus and justification for conservation. In a recent article Robert Cribb (2007) points out the importance of both ‘celebrity species’ and ‘colonial paternalism’ with regard to colonial era conservation policies. Cribb argues that much of this began with the birds of paradise, whose multi-coloured feathers made them an object for fashionable women’s hats at the turn of the twentieth century as well as an object of early conservationist efforts in Europe. The early successes that Cribb explores in limiting hunting of birds of paradise led to the focus on animals that Western audiences found fascinating.
Although proponents of nature conservation in Indonesia have often argued that the preservation of species and habitats is rooted in traditional customs (adat, in Malay/Indonesian) that emphasise the preservation of natural beauty (Arnscheidt 2009: 43–57), the locations identified as World Heritage sites were chosen to halt the destruction of specific species. The selection of which species merit such conservation, however, is not arbitrary. As in the case of the Javan rhinoceros and the Komodo dragon – whose habitats are among the first World Heritage sites in Southeast Asia – it is the result of forces ranging from international politics, desires to display unique species in zoos and natural history museums, to colonial paternalism related to hunting and trapping, all of which promoted the preservation of unique species. The culmination of this trend was the designation of World Heritage status for the residents of Ujung Kulon and Komodo, as well as the Rainforests of Sumatra. In this instance, the achievement of such a status was not the beginning of conservation in the region, but the culmination of a long history of focusing on few unique species in a diverse archipelago.
Notes
1 Other works have focused on the role of science in the Dutch East Indies and its relationship to the colonial state (see Boomgaard 2006; Moon 2007; Pyenson 1989).
2 The animosity between Dutch authorities and those in Bima was deep. Issues related to Komodo were just some of many that were raised in the various reports. This information is taken from the following files in the National Archives in The Hague (see Bosch 1935: 7–8, 1937: 11).
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