Indonesia is aggressively developing Lombok island into a major tourist destination, mirroring Bali’s success, but this ‘Bali-fication’ is causing displacement and cultural shifts among locals who grapple with the trade-offs between economic gains and their traditional way of life.
Just east of Bali, Lombok has long been cherished for its azure beaches, Mount Rinjani’s hiking trails, and untouched surf spots, offering a quieter alternative to its crowded neighbor. The Indonesian government, aiming to diversify tourism, has identified Mandalika in southern Lombok as the heart of this transformation. Here, rustic coastlines are giving way to glitzy resorts, cafes, and a racetrack that hosted a motorcycle Grand Prix earlier this month, drawing nearly 150,000 spectators and signaling a new era of development.
However, this rapid change has come with significant social costs. Between 2019 and 2021, dozens of families were evicted from their village homes to make way for the Mandalika circuit, with activists decrying messy resettlement and unfair compensation. Damar, a 39-year-old surf guide, was among those displaced; he recalls feeling angry yet powerless against the government but now earns twice as much as a fisherman, illustrating the complex mix of resentment and economic opportunity that defines many locals’ experiences.
In July, tensions escalated when security forces descended on Tanjung Aan beach, demolishing nearly 200 stalls in what owners described as a cruel and inhumane operation. Stallholders like Kartini Lumban Raja and Ella Nurlaila, who had paid taxes for years, lost their livelihoods overnight, with the state-owned company ITDC claiming the land is state-owned and plans to build a luxury hotel. UN human rights experts have flagged violations, estimating over 2,000 people lost their primary income without adequate notice or resettlement.
The drive to transform Lombok is part of a broader strategy to lure tourists from Bali, which accounted for nearly half of Indonesia’s visitors last year despite its small size. Lombok saw an 40% jump in foreign tourists to 81,500 in the past year, but this remains a fraction of Bali’s 6.3 million. With hundreds of millions in investments, including a $250 million loan, development is accelerating, replacing scrappy surf hostels in Kuta with upscale pools and international schools.
Cultural and environmental concerns are mounting. Lombok’s predominantly Muslim society and indigenous Sasak culture face potential erosion as tourism heats up, with travelers advised to adopt modest attire. Environmental strains are already visible, such as the 30 tonnes of rubbish left after the Grand Prix, raising fears of repeating Bali’s pollution problems. Critics like Swiss tourist Basil Berger argue that Lombok should preserve its unique identity rather than become a diluted copy of Bali.
Despite the challenges, tourism has brought prosperity to some. Foreign investors like Andrew Irwin, co-owner of a surf camp, highlight how businesses uplift locals through better jobs and healthcare. Homestay owner Lara has expanded from four to 14 rooms, embracing the economic boom but wistfully recalling a slower, more connected past. This duality—missing the past while valuing the money—encapsulates the island’s ongoing struggle to balance growth with heritage.
As Lombok forges ahead, the government faces pressure to ensure development benefits all residents, not just tourists. The island’s future hinges on learning from Bali’s mistakes, fostering sustainable tourism that respects human rights and local culture, rather than sacrificing paradise for profit.