The Bakun hydroelectric project, which would displace tens of thousands of Kenyah people, has been put on hold due to the collapse of the Malaysian economy. The dam would inundate 69,640 hectares (268 square miles), drowning the habitat of 12 protected species of fauna and at least 93 other species.
For the Kenyah people of Long Geng, in Ulu Belaga, Sarawak, the last 15 years have been nothing but struggle. Their land, which they have nurtured and depended on for centuries, has been under attack from logging companies, from government agencies and from those carrying out the destruction and deforestation necessitated by the Bakun hydroelectric project.
The people of Long Geng have resisted: They have blockaded logging roads, petitioned state ministers, sought support from nearby communities, sent people overseas to tell their story, and sought solidarity from activists and governments around the world. They've been arrested, harassed and taken off planes to stop them from spreading the news. They still face compulsory resettlement to an area hopelessly inadequate, through a process over which they have had little input and no control. They refuse to go. Numbering over 9,500 people, the Kenyah community is just one of some 15 indigenous communities that face imminent eviction because of the dam.
The story of the Bakun Hydroelectric project is an utterly shameful one. First proposed in the 1980s, it was abandoned because of the cost and strong local and national opposition. It was resurrected in 1993 as one of many mega-projects to be undertaken by the private sector and as part of Prime Minister Mahathir's desire to show that Sarawak can have the biggest and best of everything, regardless of the impact on the economy, environment and people.
To quote from the government's justification:
"It will be Malaysia's largest power plant, and its dam will be the largest in the country and the largest of its type in the world. It will also include the longest and highest capacity submarine cables in the world to transmit power generated from Bakun in Sarawak to Peninsula Malaysia, a distance of 670 kilometers (over 400 miles)." The government claims that the project would give Malaysians their cheapest and most environmentally-friendly electricity.
The Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) belied these claims, exposing some serious flaws, including deterioration of water quality in the reservoir and the river downstream. When the Malaysian federal government washed its hands of the project and gave it to the Sarawak state government in 1995, the entire federal EIA process became moot . Even the local press commented that the process was deeply flawed and likely to lead to loss of public confidence. Despite the glaring inadequacies, the project was approved.
Local reaction was immediate. Communities asked for further details, and many voiced outright opposition. Indigenous leaders went to the Malaysian government to voice opposition. Public meetings were held, leafleting and demonstrations took place.
An international resistance campaign, linking Malaysians to groups in all continents, and targeted investors, showing (step by step) how risky the investment would be. The internal contradictions of the project were glaring enough to put most financiers off. The Malaysian government had to step in and begin to bail the project out with the money of the Malaysian people.
This project would doubly penalize the people of Malaysia. The electricity would actually be the most expensive in the country. The national electric company, Tenaga Nasional, contracted to buy the power at a fixed price over the next 25 years, regardless of equity or future supply and demand.
Resistance to the dam also focused on the Swedish-Swiss company, Asea-Brown Boveri (ABB), which was building the dam. An international campaign targeted ABB, asking it to withdraw from the project on the basis that it was unsustainable and had been rushed through the EIA processes, which ABB would never have accepted in its home countries. A Malaysian coalition met with ABB and outlined the many reasons the project would hurt Malaysians. Subsequently, a major row between ABB and Ekran, over who would bear the expense of cost overruns and the lack of tender and responsibility for sub-contracts, led to Ekran unceremoniously dumping ABB from the project.
Meanwhile, the 9,500 effected indigenous people watched in dismay as workers bulldozed and cleared their land. The river, their major means of transport, became too dangerous to use in places, despite Ekran's assurances that access would be safeguarded. The impact on both their agricultural land and forests (essential for hunting and supplying materials for medicine and building) caused growing hardship. Conditions at the dam site were so bad that many local workers refused to work there; foreign workers had to be employed in greater numbers. Authorities have refused to confirm reports of industrial accidents and deaths.
When the Malaysian economy collapsed in 1997, the project was left an utter mess. Wasteful expenditures and unaccountable loans on huge mega-projects like Bakun came home to roost. The stock market plummeted, and Malaysian currency lost over half its value. So, an excuse to postpone the whole Bakun project was quickly formulated.
Late in November, the Deputy Prime Minister Ibrahim announced that the federal government took over the project from Ekran and put the dam on hold because of economic circumstances. But this temporary glitch in the capitalist economy still may not help the local people. The project remains on the drawing board. Locals continue to ask the government to totally scrap the project forever. They suggest investment in alternative (and sustainable) energy sources and more efficient use of current electricity generation.
Battles over indigenous land continue all over Sarawak: One indigenous protester was shot dead recently by police in Rumah Bangga over a dispute with a plantation; companies and government officials buy off indigenous leaders with money and promises; resistors face harassment and victimization by Special Branch officials, police and other government agents. Public gatherings are essentially banned, and the mainstream media, under government control, does not report on the issue with any sympathy for local protest.
The battle over the project goes on, and the struggle over resettlement continues. Now scheduled for June this year, it remains to be seen how many of the indigenous protesters will refuse to move, and if the full weight of police and the army will be brought against them.
Whatever happens, the project already has had a hugely destructive impact. In the words of an indigenous leader, "Development does not mean stealing our land, our rights, our culture and our future. This is not development, but theft."