Indonesia's Borneo fires fuel regional haze crisis as diplomatic tensions rise

The haze arrived in Palangka Raya like a slow suffocation. By late afternoon, the toxic smog had thickened so completely that daylight simply ceased—the sun vanished behind a yellow-grey curtain, and by six o'clock, the city was pitch black, hours before sunset should have come. This is what tens of millions of people across Southeast Asia have been breathing for weeks now. The fires burning in the peatlands of Central Kalimantan, on the Indonesian side of Borneo, have wrapped the region in a toxic blanket that stretches across Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines. Tens of thousands have fallen ill. The air quality in Banjarmasin registered 569 on hazard indices where anything above 100 is considered unhealthy. The smell—acrid, a mixture of burned rubber, charred earth, and wood—hits you the moment you step outside.

The fires themselves are not new to Borneo. A 57-year-old driver named Yusron, who has lived through the devastating fires of 1997 and 2015, says he has never seen haze persist like this. In those earlier crises, the monsoon rains came and extinguished the flames. This year, Indonesia's weather agency has forecast a delayed rainy season, now expected to begin in November instead of October—a month later than anticipated. The delay matters enormously. The region is also in the grip of a super El Niño, which is drying conditions and fueling what scientists describe as Indonesia's worst fires in over a decade. Without rain, the burning continues.

The economic toll is staggering and still climbing. The 2015 haze crisis cost the region roughly $20 billion in losses. Singapore alone absorbed more than $1.4 billion in economic damage. Euston Quah, a professor at Nanyang Technological University who has studied haze impacts for nearly two decades, told the BBC that this year's costs will exceed 2015. The region's economy and population have both grown substantially since then, meaning the hit to productivity and medical expenses from prolonged toxic air exposure is more severe. The total cost remains unknown and will depend entirely on when the fires finally stop.

The fires themselves burn on peatland—carbon-rich soil that becomes dangerously flammable once drained and dried. Blame for the burning is contested. Some point to deforestation and peat degradation. Others accuse large-scale plantation owners of illegally clearing land by fire. What is clear is that the fires are visible from the air and from the road: less than thirty minutes from the airport, smoldering peatland is visible, smoke billowing from the ground despite no visible flames. Flight disruptions have forced journalists and others to take five-hour drives from Banjarmasin to reach the worst-affected areas. Many people along those roads walk without masks, left with no choice but to breathe the poisoned air.

Diplomatic tensions have risen sharply as the crisis has deepened. Jakarta has faced growing international pressure to do more about the fires and the industries behind them. Earlier this month, Syahganda Nainggolan, head of Indonesia's Government Communications Agency, defended his country's record in a way that drew sharp rebuke. He said Indonesia was not simply sending haze across borders—when there was no haze, he argued, the country sent oxygen, since the oxygen in Singapore and Malaysia came from Indonesian forests. Singapore's Senior Minister K Shanmugam responded on Monday that the remarks were disappointing and wrong at a moment when people across the region are suffering. He acknowledged that he believed the view was not shared by others in the Indonesian government and welcomed President Prabowo Subianto's efforts to address the crisis.

The international response has been uneven. Singapore has issued legal notices to firms linked to the burning. Malaysia has opted for diplomatic channels rather than legal action. Indonesia has not yet accepted offers of help from either country. The standoff persists even as the haze deepens and the waiting for rain stretches on.