‘Don’t erase the soul of Bingin’: Bali locals dismayed as 48 businesses destroyed in local crackdown | Bali

“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Komang Agus, looking on in despair at his workplace of 16 years in the Bali tourist hotspot of Bingin, lying in fresh ruins.

“I have a wife, three sons, my father is sick and in the hospital, how am I going to support them?” the manager of Morabito Art Cliff Villa said, his voice cracking and tears welling in his eyes. “We understand the laws and the need for regulation, but why only here?”

Agus spoke to the Guardian shortly after the government embarked on a sweeping crackdown on alleged illegal coastal developments on Indonesia’s most popular tourist island. The demolition of 48 cliffside establishments at Bingin beach – ranging from warungs (small eateries) and homestays to boutique villas and restaurants overlooking one of the world’s most revered waves – marks a flashpoint in Bali’s struggle with mass tourism, overdevelopment and the desire to retain the cultural and surfing heritage that put the island on the global tourist map in the first place.

Bingin is being cleared as part of a campaign led by the re-elected governor, Wayan Koster, to enforce zoning regulations and eliminate unregulated structures on protected government-owned land.

“The Bali provincial government is preparing a team to conduct an investigative audit of tourism business permits throughout Bali,” said Koster, hammer in hand at the start of the Bingin demolition in July. “We cannot allow it. If we let these methods continue throughout Bali, Bali will be ruined.”

More than 20 other businesses have also been targeted as allegedly illegal by local authorities at nearby Balangan beach, and others across the Bukit peninsula and beyond may soon face similar action.

But for many locals, the loss of Bingin represents a further gutting of a historic and cherished part of the island’s surf culture that in many places has been overtaken by mega resorts, shopping strips and beach clubs.

Surfers, many of them Australian, began arriving at Bingin in the 1970s and 1980s, attracted by its perfect mechanical left-hand barrel waves. Local families built small warungs on the cliffs to serve them. Among them was Kelly’s Warung, established by the family of local professional surfer Mega Semadhi.

“This place feels like home, away from the noise and chaos above – a beautiful beach, beautiful wave and people,” Samadhi told the Guardian. “There are not many places like this left.”

Over time, the area grew and commercialised, with some rooms now renting for over A$200 a night and small family-run businesses morphing into multi-level luxury suites like the towering Morabito Art Cliff boutique hotel, with multiple swimming pools – and one even in its master suite.

“The developments got out of control and people got greedy,” said Semadhi, who lives and works in the village nearby with his wife and two young children. “We tried to stop it, but the government didn’t listen to us [at the time]. And now it’s too late.”

Semadhi called for the community to be involved in the future of the area. “If they are going to redo it, we want to do it properly. To return the soul of how it started. If we lose this place, all of Bingin will suffer.”

Tourists have also expressed dismay; many gathered on the beach throughout the week after the demolition began, completely unaware of the plans.

Several Australian expats said they had been advised against speaking out publicly, with concerns they could be deported.

An Australian surfer and local business owner, who first visited Bingin over 30 years ago, described it as a “very special place”.

“The first time I came down here, we could only eat food and sleep on people’s decks. There was something magical about it,” he said. “Australians were among the first surfers to come here and form a special relationship with the Balinese. There aren’t many places like this left.”

Business owners – many foreigners, including Australians – say many of the structures existed before zoning rules were formalised and the land became deemed a protected area, and efforts were made to ensure operations were compliant.

Alex Barung, a lawyer representing some owners attempting to halt the demolitions, said the community had tried multiple times to resolve the issue and work with the government.

“In 1985, the community realised the tourism potential and built supporting facilities. They lacked capital and so partnered with foreigners – but the businesses came first, before the regulations.”

Owners argue that they were operating under customary law, with informal permission from the village to operate.

Critics of the demolition – which officials expect to take a month – warn that erasing Bingin risks destroying a unique cultural and social ecosystem.

“This is part of Bali’s surfing heritage,” said Piter Panjaitan, a local surfer and environmentalist. “It became a hotspot, a golden egg of the Bukit peninsula. Now, 1,000 people are losing their jobs overnight. People are crying.”

He questioned the transparency and consistency of the government’s approach. “We understand the need to clean up, but why here, and why like this? We want to make Bali better, but we also want social justice.”

The demolition highlights challenges in Bali’s growth. The island’s population has doubled since the 1960s to more than 4 million, and tourist arrivals are projected to hit 6.5 million this year.

The government has floated – and abandoned – a moratorium on tourism development, opting instead for tighter controls. Local environmental group Walhi Bali said it supported reining in unregulated growth but criticised “selective enforcement”.

“From our research, there are many other developments across Bali lacking permits and environmental assessments,” said Walhi Bali’s Ida Bagus Arya Yoga Bharata. “The inconsistency highlights the slow and weak governance in Bali’s development planning.”

The head of Bali’s Public Order Agency, I Dewa Nyoman Rai Darmadi, denied claims the demolitions were clearing space for luxury developments. “That’s a hoax,” he told the Guardian. He said it was about safety, with many businesses packed into the steep cliff zone and that public land was “not for business like currently”.

“This is protected land. There’s no indication of it being taken over by an investor.”

Still, uncertainty looms, even from officials.

“Once it’s renovated, it will become an attraction – whether for surfers or something else,” said Governor Koster. “At the very least, tourists will want to come, and it will contribute to the wellbeing of the local community.”

And without a clear plan, locals worry the area could be redeveloped without them.

But despite the sadness, Semadhi said he was optimistic about the future.

“If they are going to do it, then maybe we can do it properly this time, a new beginning. But let us be part of it. Don’t erase the soul of Bingin.”