Imagine spending some time away from your community and finding everything surrounded by eucalyptus trees upon your return. That is what happened to Maria*, a young woman from a community in Mozambique's Zambezia Province. “I asked my grandmother where I could farm, and she told me that the land we used to have was occupied by Portucel. Later, when the company started cutting down eucalyptus trees, I saw an opportunity to reclaim part of our land. My grandmother showed me the boundaries, and I got to work”, she tells a group of about 40 people.

Maria was attending a gathering that brought together women from communities who are fighting to reclaim lands occupied by the Portucel Moçambique, a subsidiary of the transnational group The Navigator Company. Organized by the Mozambican community association Missão Tabita, which works in the Zambezia Province, the meeting facilitated the exchange of experiences and included visits to some of the reclaimed areas.

Dozens of parcels of land have been reclaimed in the province since 2024. With these reclamations the communities are putting an end to the impacts they endured by Protucel’s monocultures ever since the company started occupying the land in 2009: enough is enough! They also serve as a clear signal that the communities will no longer accept the false promises the company made to gain access to their lands. (1)

“The challenge is to rebuild the collective bonds that were weakened during the period of land occupation. Many people were forced to change their ways of life. They lost communal spaces, farmland and even places considered important to their culture and identity. Reclaiming the land also means recovering unity, solidarity and a sense of confidence about the future”, explains Fausta Rafael, president of Missão Tabita.

As Maria and her grandmother’s story shows, many women find themselves on the front lines of these efforts. The initiatives developed by these women are part of a long-standing process of community mobilization, coordination and support in the region organized by Justiça Ambiental and Missão Tabita. These initiatives pose a challenge to Portucel’s plan to transform 356,000 hectares of public land over which the company has been granted a use concession into a “green desert”. (2) Extensive evidence gathered by Justiça Ambiental shows that, for more than 15 years, this project has been violating the right to land, the right to consultation, the right to practice traditional ways of life and various civil rights of a number of communities in the Zambezia and Manica provinces. (3)

The gathering is one of several initiatives aimed at restoring communities’ right to land and halting the spread of eucalyptus plantations in this region. The activities were attended by women from communities in Zambezia and from Missão Tabita and the World Rainforest Movement (WRM), and by two leaders of social movements with decades of experience in fighting eucalyptus monoculture plantations in Brazil: Eliandra Fernandes, one of the national directors of the Landless Workers Movement (MST, acronym in Portuguese); and Genilda Cassiano, from the Sapê do Norte Quilombola Commission. Both women are from the north of the state of Espírito Santo, which has been partially transformed into a “green desert” by Suzano’s eucalyptus monoculture plantations. (4) 

In Brazil, organized women's groups have provided an important voice of resistance against this multinational corporation, which threatens the territory of various communities. Suzano owns 1.4 million hectares of eucalyptus plantations across the country, much of which are on illegally occupied land. According to the MST, it would be possible to settle more than 100,000 families in an area of this size. (5)

Talking to their fellow activists in Mozambique Eliandra and Genilda emphasized that defending land is a collective struggle, and that women’s struggle is not only against oppression from above but also patriarchy within their own territories.

We spoke with Fausta, Eliandra and Genilda about their impressions of the gathering. Below are some excerpts from our conversation.

WRM: Looking back at this gathering, what would you say is the main connection between the struggle of the communities we visited in Mozambique who reclaimed the land and that of the MST and the Quilombola Commission in Brazil?

Eliandra (MST/Brazil): The common thread that connects the struggles in Mozambique and Brazil is defending land. Land is at the center of this debate. And, at the same time, defending nature and ‘natural resources’ is at the center [of the debate].

And within the organizations, in the struggles, you can see that women are always the first to rise up against the model of domination. In this case [in Mozambique], women are standing up against the eucalyptus monoculture model in defense of their territories. 

WRM: Indeed, most of the land reclamations we visited were initiatives led by women. Why do you think it is women who are on the front lines of this struggle?

Fausta (Missão Tabita/Mozambique): When the land was lost, it was women who had to walk further to get water and firewood and find areas to plant crops. It is women who work the land. When their land was occupied by the company they felt its loss, and that’s why they had the courage to reclaim it, to care for their children and their families more broadly.

Now, during the process [of reclaiming the land], they continue to face the burden of both domestic and agricultural work. They also often have to fight to have their voices heard in decision-making regarding the use and management of the reclaimed lands. Women didn’t have a say in consultation meetings with the company.

WRM: In these cases women are doubly oppressed: from above—by the companies that steal their land—and from inside— by men, whether in daily life or in the community struggles for land.. What is your take on this reality?

Eliandra: It’s proof that the issue of patriarchy exists all over the world. Both in Brazil and in Mozambique, there is an aspect of patriarchy that is cultural, that can’t be touched, that’s traditional, and involves religion and cultural issues that are specific to each country. We know that all around the world cultural norms serve to keep women in a position of subordination and inequality.

Women in Brazil have been struggling for decades to break this. When it comes to women in the MST, we have been fighting for and defending our territory for 40 years, building settlements. We confront agribusiness, we confront large landowners, we confront the police, we secure land, but we are not able to combat violence against women in these territories. Why is that? Precisely because of structural things. So, I think it is very important to look at this.

Fausta: Regarding the challenges faced by women and their relationship to Portucel’s operations, we have a saying that goes: “The land is ours. When someone tries to take it [from us], they are trying to take our very lives”—which sums up very well what we heard during the gathering.

But women share many challenges that existed before the arrival of monoculture plantations: discrimination, [lack of] inclusion in community decision-making, domestic violence, difficulties accessing education and limited participation in positions of power. These problems make women more vulnerable.

That is why I believe that companies like Portucel found a context in which inequalities already existed. Why do I say that? Because, in a way, the company has benefited from these inequalities and, in many cases, the agreements were discussed primarily with men, while women—who are deeply affected—were not properly consulted.

When women’s voices are ignored, it is easier to move forward with projects that take away land and livelihoods, especially from communities. That’s why, for women, defending our territory also means strengthening women’s participation in decision-making.

WRM: Could you talk a little about the strategies that women from the MST and the Quilombola Commission have developed to strengthen women’s participation in decision-making processes?

Genilda (Quilombola Commission/Brazil): In Brazil, women, us from social movements, have strategies to try to overcome these barriers. We bring groups together, we talk to each other, we discuss things, and we realize, “That’s not going to work!” For example, in the Quilombola Commission there’s a group made up of all the women from the Sapê do Norte [Quilombola territory]. They try to sell their products at markets, travel outside the state and create groups. So we come up with strategies. For example, when we organize our movements, our meetings—the MST does this too—we have the Ciranda (nursery), which looks after the children so the women can take part.

In Brazil, these movements, these groups that we organize help women gain visibility. It used to be rare to hear a woman’s name mentioned in a movement for example. It was usually men’s names, but nowadays you hear the names of several women being mentioned. That is progress.

WRM: Reflecting on the oppression from above: who are the communities in Brazil and Mozambique fighting against? 

Eliandra: The struggle is against the same enemy. And here we are talking about an enemy that is international capital and the way it manifests itself in poorer countries. In Brazil, it manifests itself through agribusiness. Agribusiness in the form of eucalyptus monocultures and in other forms, in the production of commodities, which is production for export. In terms of oppression, what it needs in Brazil and in Mozambique is land, water, ‘natural resources’, which capital appropriates, and cheap labor. So it’s the same; there’s absolutely no difference.

WRM: Eliandra and Genilda, you are both from social movements with a wealth of experience in the struggle for land. What stands out for you in the resistance strategies you’ve encountered?

Eliandra: From a strategies and resistance point of view, I think that this [eucalyptus monocultures] project has been underway in communities in Mozambique for about 15 years, while for us [in Brazil] it’s approaching 60 years. I think they are much further ahead of where we were 15 years ago when Aracruz Celulose [now Suzano] was in Espírito Santo for example. So they’ve already gone through the process of dissatisfaction, mobilization, in a way, and organization.

Genilda: Visiting the communities, I was impressed by the grit of the young people in reclaiming the machambas [small plots of land for growing food]. They are managing to reclaim the land on their own [without an organized collective movement like the experiences of the MST and the Quilombola Commission in Sapê do Norte]. So I think this whole issue of reclaiming land is a brilliant, empowering experience for any movement.

WRM: What are the main challenges after the families reclaimed the land?

Fausta: One of the biggest challenges for the families in reclaimed areas is restoring soil fertility. Many of these areas were planted with eucalyptus monocultures for years, which altered the soil and led to water scarcity. To produce food again requires a lot of hard work, patience and hope.

There is also the constant fear that the lands might be disputed or taken again, creating a sense of insecurity in the communities. In some communities people say that after they cut out the resprouting eucalyptus and start to plant the machambas, they begin to face various types of pressure, and this intimidation is not always explicit. Sometimes it takes the form of messages intended to instill fear, unexpected visits, verbal threats and rumors that families might lose everything again or face problems with the authorities. And, in some cases, the mere presence of company representatives or other individuals with an interest in the areas is enough to create an atmosphere of insecurity.

WRM: How have communities responded to these threats?

Fausta: What we have observed is a powerful display of courage and resistance, because the communities recognize that the land is essential to their survival, their culture and their dignity. For this reason, despite the intimidation, many families remain united, supporting one another and defending their right to grow food and live on their territories in safety and with respect.

WRM: Finally, what would each of you highlight about this exchange of experiences?

Eliandra: There was already a little ember under the haystack,and we helped fan it here, but just to say to the women that what they want is already happening on the other side of the ocean. So the strategy of struggle and resistance is pretty much the same. They are still in the early stages, still taking their first steps, but it can develop into much broader struggles here in the countryside. And you know I think I draw strength from the women fighting to defend life. Because fighting for land is fighting for life.

Genilda: I think we managed to share a little of our experience, and we also have a lot of experience to take back to Brazil. So I’ll be talking with my comrades, because I think we can do much more than we’re doing. Strategic resistance means organizing ourselves and really coming together, because we are all fighting for the same cause; all the movements, everyone is fighting for territory.

Fausta: This gathering showed that when communities come together and find committed allies what seemed impossible can happen. The exchange of experiences also revealed something that is very important: the value of solidarity among women. They [the women] have shown that the struggle does not have to be fought alone.

The presence of our comrades Eliandra and Genilda was particularly significant and inspiring, because their testimonies showed that many of the difficulties, injustices and challenges faced today by women in communities across Mozambique have also been faced by them during the course of the struggle in Brazil. This identification created a strong feeling of solidarity and belonging to a greater struggle that goes beyond borders.

Looking ahead, this gathering offers very encouraging prospects. The first is the strengthening of women’s leadership in the communities, enabling more women to take on an active role in decision-making and social mobilization. The second is the creation and consolidation of a network of women capable of supporting one another, sharing experiences and developing joint actions in defense of land, food sovereignty and social justice.

*Fictitious name used to protect the young woman’s identity due to the repeated threats she has received from people representing the interests of Portucel. 

References: 
    (1) JA, 2026. A Terra era nossa. A promessa também, WRM, 2024. Portucel/Navigator and eucalyptus in Mozambique: “What the company leaves for the population is 0%”
    (2) WRM, 2025. Standing in resistance: communities unite against the impacts of eucalyptus tree monocultures in Mozambique  
    (3) JA, 2025. Comunidades de hamela e mugulama exigem divórcio à portucel
JA, 2025.  COMUNICADO DE IMPRENSA: Caderno Reivindicativo de Comunidades Afectadas por Megaprojectos em Moçambique é submetido às principais instituições do Estado
    (4) WRM, 2025. Against capital and patriarchy, MST women hold day of struggle and occupy Suzano-owned eucalyptus plantations in Brazil  
    (5) WRM, 2023. What you need to know about Suzano Papel e Celulose

"I am silenced, without a voice, on the land that my ancestors have passed down to me from generation to generation," remarks a peasant who stands to lose his lands to the ASC Impact Group's monoculture project. In 2025, this group signed a contract to lease 102,560 hectares of land stretching across several districts of Gamboma, in the Republic of the Congo. "This project is the will of the State and nobody can oppose it," explained the man, whose lands lie within the leased area. 

He is one of the people affected by the ASC Impact Group's monoculture and agricultural project – with whom the Organization for Environmental and Human Rights Protection spoke (OPEDH, by its French acronym). Between June and July of 2026, OPEDH visited communities in districts affected by this lease, with the goal of speaking with peasants and with members of the Bènè People. 

The situations that the organization discovered have been carefully hidden from the media: communities have been silenced by local authorities, stripped of their ancestral lands, and subjected to violations of their basic rights. 

In light of these human rights violations, OPEDH is making public the appeal from the communities affected by the ASC Impact Group project. They are calling on the Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency (MIGA), of the World Bank, and the private financial initiative Canopy Trust not to fund this project and to ensure the land is returned to the farmers. (1)

This article shares more details about the project and its consequences for communities whose traditional lands are being turned into monocultures. 

The facade: a brief history of the ASC Impact Group in the Republic of the Congo 

Founded by the Austrian Kirchmayer family, the ASC Impact Group has operations in several African countries, mainly in Angola, Ethiopia, and the Republic of the Congo. Its primary activities are monoculture tree plantations (acacia and eucalyptus) and agriculture (soya, corn, wheat and sorghum).

According to the media, the ASC Impact Group began operations in the Republic of the Congo in 2023 with the creation of three companies: Agricaf Congo, Transfor Congo and Aforest Congo, which received one million CFA francs (approximately US $2,000). (2) 

That same year, ASC Impact Group announced it was investing 23 billion CFA francs (approximately US$ 41 million) in the agriculture, forestry, wood processing, and industrial tree plantation sectors. (3) This investment would also generate carbon credits, as Karl Ernst Kirchmayer, one of the founders of the ASC Impact Group, stated in an interview with the local press. (4) 

Throughout this process, during official government visits to Hungary and visits to rural lands with Karl Ernst Kirchmayer, several contracts were signed with the Congolese government. (5)

In August of 2025, Aforest Congo, a subsidiary of the ASC Impact Group, and the government of the Republic of the Congo signed a long-term land lease agreement. 

According to the media, this contract has a term of 30 years and covers 102,560 hectares. The agreement also mentions an annual lease payment of 102.56 million CFA francs (approximately US $182,000) and a royalty payment of 500,000 CFA francs (approximately US $900) to the government.

According to the press and the ASC Impact Group, a new agreement – signed in December 2025 – granted the group an additional 4,000 hectares located within the d’Oyo-Ollombo special economic zone. Aforest Congo will set up its wood processing plant, pulp mill and carbon market projects on 300 hectares of this land. (6)

Image

Matthias Schulz, a partner at ASC Impact and head of the local Aforest Congo branch, stated in an interview that "the project will generate carbon credits...including a carbon royalty of 14 percent for the government and 6 percent for the communities". (7)

Meanwhile, Congolese authorities told the press that "With an investment of approximately 20 billion CFA francs in the agroforestry sector (about US $35.4 million) and 100 billion CFA francs in the industrial sector (about US $177 million), the initiative will create 1,800 direct jobs and approximately 4,500 indirect jobs in the long run." 

Some community authorities were also interviewed, and they expressed their excitement in lingala, which can translated as: "we are happy about the arrival of this project, which will contribute to the development of our region". (8)

The reality: threats and intimidation; communities silenced by fear of reprisals

The signing of the lease agreement in 2025 – the first stage of this project – was portrayed in the media as a win-win situation. The media reported on a solemn ceremony to present symbolic funds to peasant communities that own the affected lands, (9) and on the mission of the Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency. (10) But the reality is quite different. 

In reality, this agreement is the result of a negotiation process conducted under imposed silence, through threats and coercion against peasant communities and Indigenous Peoples living on the lands mentioned in the lease agreement. (11)

"The local authorities threatened us even before we walked into the meeting," shares Mbakouo*, one of the peasants. He goes on: "They told us that we had to accept the project for the development of the region; that our children would have jobs." But he soon reveals the truth that they are forced to conceal: “We were warned to not reveal the amount of money that they had given us.. This money cannot replace the cultural heritage that we have received from our ancestors."

And he concludes, resigned, "Deep down, I do not feel any joy. But what can we do to face the government?"

There is a lack of information about the project and its impacts

"We are worried about our means of survival: we have been growing ñame and yuca for several generations. And we do not know what impact these new crops will have on our harvest," explains Honorine*, a resident of a community in Gamboma.

The people interviewed in the communities explained that they had not received any information about the project, much less about its impacts. Nonetheless, the project is currently in the environmental impact study phase. 

According to information published by Aforest Congo, an environmental impact study was carried out by the company HCV Africa – under the supervision of the of the accredited consulting firm, CM2E – to ensure compliance with the World Bank’s environmental requirements. (12)

“We don’t know this company; we don’t have any information about its activities, and we don’t know anything about the project’s impact on our lands either. We don’t have a contract, a summary, or even the slightest information about the project,” Honorine laments.

Furthermore, the legal review conducted by OPEDH shows that the aforementioned lease agreement signed in 2025 had not yet been published in the Official Gazette, as of the date of publication of this article. This constitutes a violation of the provisions of the Congolese Civil Code regarding the publication of legal texts. (13)

No consultation with communities, as required by the law

Conversations with communities, indigenous populations, and the administration revealed a failure to comply with legal provisions regarding community consultation. 

"A consultation requires having all the documents in hand, learning about the advantages and disadvantages of a project, and having time to think and give one's opinion. This is not what happened," explains Jérémie*, of the Bènè People. 

In August 2025 the local press published some reports mentioning two official meetings whose objectives were not consultation. The first meeting was intended to disburse symbolic funds to peasant communities that owned the lands, and the second meeting was to sign the long-term lease agreement. (14) 

Congolese laws and regulations clearly stipulate the conditions required for a consultation. It must "be carried out prior to the development of a plantation project, by a consultation commission, over a period that shall not exceed three months". (15)

Jérémie makes it clear that it did not happen this way: "The company did not engage us at all to hear our grievances or negotiate about our lands." He also describes what the company tried to pass off as a legitimate consultation: "We found out that some authorities – who were elected in violation of our customs and traditions – participated in two meetings in Gamboma and Brazzaville. These meetings were called on very short notice," he concludes. 

Far from being an exception, what happened in Jérémie's community seems to have been a common way of operating. "They did not involve us in the development of this project. I participated in a symbolic meeting in Gamboma; we weren't even allowed to speak," insists Gloire*, a member of another community, in lingala.

Furthermore, conversations with authorities from the Ministry of Justice show that no consultation commissions have been implemented yet. This merely confirms the lack of consultation with communities, in violation of national legislation. 

ASC Impact Group continues to operate, and communities are living with uncertainty 

In 2025, newspapers reported on plans for a pilot phase of ASC Impact's project in the Republic of the Congo. For this phase, they had envisioned establishing a semi-industrial nursery with a capacity of 12 million seedlings, in addition to planting 10,000 hectares each year. Most of these plantings consist of the fast-growing species that are commonly found on industrial plantations, such as acacia and eucalyptus. (16) 

The World Bank is set to provide financing to ASC Impact Group in the course of 2026. The Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency (MIGA) conducted an audit mission to the Congo in February. (17) According to the press, the goal of this mission was to ensure compliance with national public policies. (18) In June, a mission by South African consulting firm HCV Africa helped evaluate the Gamboma concession's compliance with World Bank requirements. (19) 

As if this weren't enough, ASC Impact Group recently received another major source of support: financing from the initiative Canopy Trust for the social and environmental impact studies, according to a press release from the ASC Impact Group. (20)
 
In light of these developments, the communities are already feeling the threats that this project poses to their lands and ways of life: 

"We feel surrounded on all sides. Several plantation projects have invaded our lands," shares a peasant from Gamboma. "We are ñame and yuca farmers; our means of subsistence will be destroyed by these tree plantations that come from the outside," he warns, regarding the possible evolution of ASC Impact's project. 

Communities issue an urgent call to stop the project

Therefore, in light of these violations of communities' rights and the threats to their lands, resources and livelihoods, and rooted in international norms and standards, the local communities and indigenous populations of Gamboma, Bènè, Okouampi, Afou y Eleli – through the Organization for Environmental and Human Rights Protection (OPEDH) – are calling on potential shareholders of the ASC Group, in particular Canopy Trust and MIGA, to: STOP FINANCING THESE PROJECTS AND GIVE US BACK OUR LAND, IDENTITY AND ANCESTRAL CULTURE.

Organization for Environmental and Human Rights Protection (OPEDH)

* Pseudonyms have been used to protect the safety of the individuals interviewed. 

References:

(1) Miga and Canopy Trust
(2) ASC Impact
(3) ADIAC, 2023.Congo-Affaires: le groupe ASC Impact va investir 23 milliards FCFA dans le bois et l’agriculture
(4) ADIAC, 2025. Trois questions à Karl Ernst Kirchmayer à propos du partenariat en République du Congo
About Karl Ernst Kirchmayer: “This Austrian businessman, who spent years buying up 147,000 ha of farmlands in Eastern Europe, now has an African land grab venture, ASC Impact. 25,000 hectares in Angola and 270,000 in the Republic of the Congo”, according to Grain.
(5) ADIAC, 2025. Coopération: mission gouvernementale en Autriche e Facebok
(6) OFFICIAL GAZETTE OF THE REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO, 2025.
OFFICIAL GAZETTE OF THE REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO, 2019; La Cloche News, 2025. Zone Économique Spéciale Oyo-Ollombo]Un accord pour développer une emprise; ASC IMPACT
(7) ALPHONSE NDONGO TV, 2026. CONGO| ASC Impact investit dans l’afforestation et le reboisement
(8) Ministère des Zones Économiques Spéciales Public, Facebook.
(9) Vox Congo, 2026. ENVIRONNEMENT / ÉCONOMIE VERTE –
(10) Focus Media, 2025. La société Aforest Congo en phase de développer des activités industrielles et d’agroforesterie sur 102 560 hectares à Gamboma
(11) Banque Mondiale – Cadre environnemental et social, NES 5.12: Banque mondiale – Cadre environnemental et social, NES 5.12: Les communautés affectées doivent être indemnisées avant le début des travaux, sur la base du coût intégral de remplacement. 
(12) Agricaf et Aforest Congo, Linkedin. June 2026: trois avancées majeures pour Aforest Congo et Agricaf Congo
(13) Republic of the Congo, General Secretariat of the Government
(14) Vox TV, 2025. Signing of the emphyteutic lease agreement between the government and Aforest Congo
(15) Ley 05-2011, del 25 febrero 2011, which mentions the promotion and protection of indigenous peoples, art. 3.
Decreto n° 2019-201, del 12 julio 2019, which establishes the modalities of consultation and participation of indigenous peoples in socil and economic projects and programs, art. 3 and following
Decreto n°2023-117, del 04 abril 2023, on the powers, composition, and operation of the Forestry Commission, Art. 2 et seq.
(16) Farmlandgrab, 2025. Signing of a long-term lease agreement of more than 102,000 hectares with Aforest Congo
(17) Miga
(18) Ministère des Zones Economiques Spéciales 
(19) Ministère des Zones Economiques Spéciales 
(20) Canopytrust, IInvesting to protect forests and support communities in Central Africa.
ASC Impact, Linkedin. ASC Impact received catalyst funding from Canopy Trust for our sustainable land use project in Gamboma, in the Republic of the Congo

A common claim is that the ‘energy transition’ will free the world from fossil fuel dependence and, at the same time, improve the relationship between humans and nature. However, in many parts of Indonesia—from Gorontalo on the island of Sulawesi to Merauke on the island of Papua—projects pursued in the name of this ‘transition’ having the opposite effect. These projects involve the production of so-called bioenergy, which is gaining momentum in the country through monoculture schemes that sell ‘clean energy’ but deliver deforestation and destruction.

The report “Legalizing the Climate Crisis”, (1) produced by the environmental organization WALHI, reveals that more than a quarter of Indonesia’s total forest area—approximately 26.5 million hectares—is at risk of being legally deforested in the name of the climate crisis. This is the area for which the government has granted various permits to extractive industries, including the logging, mining and monoculture plantation sectors. (2) With these permits, companies were handed permission to destroy the forests in these areas.

According to the report, these areas are being targeted by companies seeking to undertake ‘energy transition’ projects. This includes companies from the bioenergy industry—biomass and bioethanol—as well as mining companies. To advance their projects, companies are taking advantage of a 2021 government measure that allows ‘forest utilization’ permits—the most common type of permit—to be used to carry out more than one activity within the same concession area. (3)

Taking advantage of this measure, several companies have started to invest in tree plantations for energy production projects (HTE, the Indonesian acronym). This is the case with tree plantations for biomass projects to produce wood pellets, which are used as a complementary fuel in thermal power plants.

Other biomass projects  include sugarcane plantations for bioethanol production and oil palm plantations for biodiesel production. 

Although companies claim that these projects contribute to the decarbonization of the energy mix in Indonesia, they have in fact caused widespread deforestation and, as a result, increased carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions. Furthermore, they have destroyed biodiversity and appropriated the lands of Indigenous Peoples and traditional communities. Despite this, the Ministry of Forestry legitimizes these activities by classifying this destruction as “legal deforestation”.

The clearance all 26.5 million hectares of forests for which the government has issued permits would cause the same amount of carbon dioxide emissions as has been released by Indonesia’s entire power generation sector over the past 25 years. Not to mention the immeasurable harm that would be inflicted on the forest peoples living in the concession areas. Ironically, deforestation is taking place precisely in the name of projects that claim to be solutions to climate chaos.

From Gorontalo to Merauke, the pattern followed by these projects undertaken in the name of the ‘energy transition’ is the same. First, they sacrifice territories and cause conflict with forest peoples. Second, the licensing process almost always takes place without an adequate environmental and social impact assessment or genuine consultation with the affected population. Third, the ‘green energy’ or ‘clean energy’ label given to these projects obscures the fact that they continue to rely on the large-scale extraction of ‘natural resources’. Fourth, the economic benefits of these projects are reaped by only a handful of large corporations. 

Below we set out some specific examples that illustrate how this pattern has played out in practice.

Biomass and the case of Gorontalo: when forests are turned into a timber plantation for energy generation

Monoculture tree plantations for biomass production are booming in Indonesia. Up to November 2025, 1.3 million hectares of land spread across multiple provinces had been earmarked for tree plantations for energy production projects. (4)

On the one hand, this expansion has been driven by domestic demand. By the end of 2022, 35 thermal power plants in Indonesia were already co-firing wood biomass with coal, the primary fuel used in these plants. The government’s goal has been to dramatically increase this number, which reached 52 in 2026. (5) But this practice will neither free Indonesia from its dependence on coal nor help combat climate chaos: the blend used in the power plants is 5 percent wood and 95 percent coal. (6) 

On the other, exports of wood pellets have also grown exponentially: from around 100 tons in 2021 to about 120,000 tons in 2023. The main destinations for this material are South Korea and Japan, which also use wood pellets in thermal power plants as a complementary fuel alongside coal. A study shows that 2.3 million hectares of tree plantations would be needed to meet this growing demand.

This is what we might call ‘energy colonialism’. Raw materials are being extracted in Indonesia so that industrialized countries can supposedly become ‘decarbonized’, without taking into account the social and ecological damage caused in the places where these raw materials are sourced.

One of the current hubs for the expansion of tree monocultures for biomass production for export is Gorontalo Province in Sulawesi. According to data from Forest Watch Indonesia, at least 1,100 hectares of forest were cleared in the province between 2021 and 2023 to establish tree plantations for energy generation. And this number is set to increase dramatically in the coming years.

Six companies are in the process of obtaining permits, which could result in more than 180,600 hectares being set aside for the expansion of monoculture tree plantations for biomass production. (7)

Another four companies are setting up tree plantations for energy production projects in a concession area covering 101,500 hectares. (8) Two of these companies, PT Banyan Tumbuh Lestari and PT Inti Global Laksana, operate in areas near the Lomuli and Butungale communities, in the Pohuwato district.

WALHI Gorontalo has conducted research and visited the area to assess the damage these projects are already causing in these two communities. (9)

Impacts of biomass production on the Lomuli and Butungale communities

According to the study, the Lomuli and Butungale communities have suffered extensive ecological and social damage as a result of the biomass projects carried out by PT Banyan Tumbuh Lestari and PT Inti Global Laksana.

The deforestation caused by the projects has already impacted the natural water cycle in the communities. One of the consequences is that rainfall is no longer absorbed by the vegetation, causing excessive surface runoff, shrinking groundwater reserves and increasing the risk of floods and droughts, which is already considerable.

Furthermore, residents reported that one of the companies was filling in the riverbed of a tributary to build a road to transport timber. This also disrupts the natural water cycle and further increases the risk of flooding.

Another impact is that monoculture plantations make the area more vulnerable to insect infestations, diseases and soil degradation. Not to mention that forest species are unable to survive in areas planted with monocultures.

In terms of social harm, communities have lost access to the forest, which is their source of water, food, firewood, honey, rattan, resin, cashew nuts and even arenga palm sap. As a result, cultural practices that depend on the forest are gradually being lost.

There is tension between community members who hope to find work at the companies and those who are suffering from the loss of their land. However, those who find work are currently facing low pay and the lack of legal protections. Far from improving well-being, the arrival of these companies has resulted in a new form of structural vulnerability.

Furthermore, the companies have completely ignored the principle of prior consent without coercion—an adaptation used in Indonesia of the principle of free, prior and informed consent, as it is known in many other countries. All the people interviewed in the communities of Lomuli and Butungale reported that no meetings had been held to clearly inform them about the two companies’ projects. The last meeting they remember took place in 2015, when the companies claimed to be operating monoculture oil palm plantations for palm oil production rather than tree plantations for energy production. 

Furthermore, WALHI’s Gorontalo study found that more than 90 percent of the people interviewed in the two villages stated categorically that they rejected the presence of the two companies. This suggests that these projects are being implemented without the communities’ free consent, which is a fundamental right and should be a basic requirement before any land is cleared in areas that impact these communities. 

Finally, an investigation into the companies operating in the region harboring the Lomuli and Butungale communities shows that the beneficiaries of these projects remain the same local elites as always. The documents reveal ties between one of the leading wood pellet exporters in the Pohuwato district and various figures in the business world and national politics, including the family network of Astra International, one of Indonesia’s largest and most famous automotive conglomerates.

This concentrated ownership structure reproduces the colonialist model at the local level: timber is extracted from Indonesia and shipped abroad while the economic benefits are concentrated among the political and economic elites and the ecological and social burden is borne by the communities in the area where extraction takes place.

Bioethanol in Merauke: loss of living spaces for Indigenous communities

In the Merauke district of South Papua, Indigenous communities are bearing the impact of bioenergy projects that are part of the Merauke National Strategic Plan (PSN). Arguably the largest ongoing deforestation scheme in the world today, the plan envisages the clearing of approximately 2 million hectares of forest. 

Bioenergy projects include monoculture oil palm plantations for biodiesel production and monoculture sugarcane plantations for ethanol production. Sugarcane plantations for bioethanol production are one of the pillars of the National Strategic Plan. Ten companies in this sector have already been granted permits for areas covering a staggering 541,094 hectares spread throughout the Merauke district.

A monoculture sugarcane plantation is currently being planned on the traditional territories of the Yei and Marind Peoples, which are home to 40 villages and more than 40,000 residents. The implementation of this project is ‘top-down’. The community was not consulted and the involvement of the army left the communities feeling coerced, with the government failing to respond to numerous protests by the population.

Meanwhile, the population has witnessed the arrival of hundreds of heavy machines—including more than two hundred excavators—which are destroying villages, vegetable gardens, wetlands and sites that are considered sacred by the Marind Maklew community. All of this is taking place under the direct supervision of the military.

The fact that half of the areas licensed for sugarcane cultivation are protected areas also violates the existing local land use plan, given that these areas should never be used for agriculture. (10)

As in Gorontalo, the sugarcane companies in Merauke concentrate wealth and property in the hands of a select group of large corporations. The same companies that have historically controlled the oil palm plantation industry and global vegetable oil trade. (11)

Why the right to say “no” should be respected

The licensing process almost always takes place without an adequate environmental and social impact assessment or genuine consultation with affected communities. The principle of free, prior and informed consent—the right secured by traditional communities to accept or reject projects that cause harm to their territories—has been treated as a mere formality that can be ignored, rather than as a condition that can effectively prevent a project from being implemented.

When a population voices its opposition to projects that cause severe harm to their territories and their lives—as happened in the communities of Lomuli and Butungale in Gorontalo, and among the Yei and Marind Peoples in Merauke—that voice is ignored and often suppressed through the implementation of security measures.

Ensuring respect for Indigenous Peoples and communities’ right of veto would have a range of concrete ecological benefits. After all, the forest areas that remain intact in Indonesia and around the world are generally those inhabited by Indigenous Peoples and traditional communities.

In other words, strengthening the right of forest peoples to their living spaces is a matter of social justice. At the same time, protecting this right contributes to forest conservation and, consequently, to addressing the climate crisis.

However, in its current form, the so-called ‘energy transition’ has done precisely the opposite in Indonesia, accelerating deforestation, which is also one of the major drivers of climate chaos.

Old-fashioned colonialism under a new guise

From Gorontalo to Merauke, the model used by ‘energy transition’ projects perpetuates old patterns. Instead of providing fair ‘clean energy’, it continues to sacrifice territories that are living spaces for Indigenous Peoples and traditional communities in order to enrich a handful of companies and local elites.

As long as bioenergy projects—such as plantations for bioethanol, biodiesel or biomass production—continue to be implemented without a comprehensive evaluation of how permits are granted, without respecting the right of affected communities to reject these projects and without an environmental and social impact assessment that is committed to social and environmental justice, the claim of ‘clean energy’ is nothing more than old-fashioned colonialism under a new guise.

A truly fair ‘energy transition’ must begin by answering a key question: energy for whom, and at whose expense?

Uli Arta Siagian, WALHI Nacional Campaign Coordinator

 

References:
    (1) WALHI, 2025. MELEGALKAN KRISIS IKLIM: Deforestasi Sistematis Atas Nama Transisi Energi di Indonesia. Available in Indonesian and English.
    (2) The permits include mining business permits (IUP), forest utilization business permits (PBPH) and right to cultivate permits (HGU). More than 65 percent of the area covered by these permits is located on the islands of Sumatra and Kalimantan, while Papua has become the new frontier for the expansion of investment.
    (3) This permit is called PBPH in Indonesia.
    (4) WALHI, 2025. Hanwa Co., Ltd. Hentikan Impor Bahan Bakar Biomassa yang Merusak Hutan, Hutan Indonesia bukan bahan bakar!
    (5) Investortrust, 2026. PLN EPI Targetkan Pasokan Biomassa 3,65 Juta Ton pada 2026, Percepat Co-firing di 52 PLTU
    (6) WALHI, 2025. MELEGALKAN KRISIS IKLIM: Deforestasi Sistematis Atas Nama Transisi Energi di Indonesia. Available in Indonesian and English. 
    (7) These companies are PT Hutani Cipta, PT Keia Lestari Indonesia 1, PT Keia Lestaria Indonesia 2, PT Lumintu Ageng Yoyo, PT Nawa Waskita Utama and PT Sorbu Agro Energi.
    (8) These companies are PT Inti Global Laksana, PT Banyan Tumbuh Lestari, PT Gema Nusantara Jaya and PT Gorontalo Citra Lestari.
    (9) WALHI, 2025. MELEGALKAN KRISIS IKLIM: Deforestasi Sistematis Atas Nama Transisi Energi di Indonesia. Available in Indonesian and English. 
    (10) For information on resistance against the Merauke National Strategic Plan (PSN), see WRM, Indonesia: Stop the Merauke National Strategic Project!
    (11) Some of these companies use shell companies to conceal the identity of the owner and person who profits from the operation, which is common practice.