By: Prof. Dr. H. Arif Sumantri S.K.M., M.Kes., Professor of Environmental Health at UIN Jakarta/Chairman of PP HAKLI (Indonesian Environmental Health Experts Association)
Amidst the waving flags and echoing cries of independence every 17 August, there is one reality we cannot ignore: we are not yet fully free from trash, from negligence, from the habit of throwing away trash without thinking twice.
Every piece of plastic floating in the gutters, every beverage can lying by the roadside, is a silent witness to a civilisation that has not yet made peace with its own remnants. In the silence of the final disposal site, independence loses its meaning.
So we ask: what is the meaning of independence if the land we love is slowly being choked by the waste we produce ourselves? We have been free from colonialism for 80 years, but we have not truly freed ourselves from a lifestyle that harms the earth. There is one quiet space that is rarely highlighted: the mountains of trash piling up in landfills, settling in waterways, and clogging river sources.
In truth, the state has provided guidelines through Law No. 18 of 2008 on Waste Management. This law is not merely a bureaucratic document but a roadmap for transitioning from the ‘collect-transport-dispose’ era to a civilisation of sorting, utilising, and preserving. It clearly states: waste management is the shared responsibility of the government, society, and the business sector.
It is not merely a collection of clauses but an ecological manifesto: that waste is a shared responsibility, not just the concern of sanitation workers. That regions are entrusted not merely to transport but to manage. That producers are obligated to take responsibility for their product waste.
However, in practice, many local governments operate without a roadmap, without sufficient funds, and without strong political will. Many regulations simply gather dust in drawers, never coming to life on the streets and in the markets.
Meanwhile, a moral voice comes from above through MUI Fatwa No. 47 of 2014, which prohibits littering and mandates waste management as part of spiritual responsibility. This fatwa asserts that polluting the earth is a form of betrayal of God’s trust.
In more subtle yet sharp language, the fatwa states that littering is a forbidden act, and that waste management is part of worship. This fatwa grounds religious teachings in contemporary ecological issues. It is not merely a warning but a call: that cleansing the earth is part of cleansing the heart.
However, the voice of heaven often fades amid the noise of shopping malls and the clamour of digital consumption. Only a handful of Islamic boarding schools, mosques, and religious communities genuinely practise these values as a movement. Two legal instruments and a moral compass have already been established. But the question remains: Why are we still overwhelmed by waste?
Behind the piles of paper and plastic lies an irony. Regulations exist, but enforcement is weak. Fatwas exist, but they have not taken root. Local governments often struggle due to budget constraints and inadequate infrastructure. Many major cities still rely on landfills that are becoming increasingly overcrowded. On the other hand, the public has not yet developed the habit of sorting waste or been motivated to reduce it. Waste is still seen as the responsibility of sanitation workers. And the private sector? Only a few genuinely take on their producer responsibility.
On one hand, the state’s laws have spoken, but their implementation is half-hearted. On the other hand, religion has issued warnings, but the faithful are too preoccupied with worldly matters. Waste continues to pile up not only in landfills, but also in hearts accustomed to discarding, in systems that never resolve issues, and in a culture that feels no guilt.
Rivers have become waste museums. The sea has become a plastic graveyard. The air carries dust from burning waste. We live in the midst of a paradox: complaining when there are floods, but turning a blind eye when throwing plastic into the gutters. We want clean air, but we are reluctant to sort our waste. We want a green Indonesia, but we refuse to change. And the earth cries out in silence through floods, air pollution, unpleasant odours, and children growing up on the outskirts of landfills.
It is not too late. Freedom from waste is not a utopia, but a collective effort. In villages establishing waste banks, in schools teaching sorting from a young age, in mosques collecting waste donations for social funds, in companies beginning to implement Extended Producer Responsibility. This is the time for the three pillars to unite: the community, local government, and the private sector.
• Local governments must formulate specific regulations under Law 18/2008, prioritising education, incentives, and green technology.
• The community must be encouraged to transition from participatory to transformative: aware that every piece of litter discarded carelessly is a form of betrayal to the homeland.
• The private sector must move beyond a passive role. Make environmental responsibility the core of business, not just symbolic CSR. And most importantly: let us revive the fatwa. Let it descend from the pulpit to the courtyard. Let it not just be read, but lived. Freedom in waste means freedom from indifference. Freedom from waste means daring to rethink how we live, consume, and treat the earth. Because this land is not an inheritance from our ancestors, but a loan from our grandchildren. And nothing is more painful than bequeathing a homeland scarred by wounds. ‘Every piece of litter we carelessly discard is a misdirected love letter to the earth, but one that wounds it.’ (sumber:iwdn.org)
