Don’t Erase the Soul of Bingin’: Bali Locals Dismayed as 48 Businesses Demolished in Coastal Crackdown
Bingin, Bali — The picturesque cliffs of Bingin Beach, a celebrated surf and tourist hotspot in Bali, have become the site of a controversial government crackdown that has left 48 cliffside businesses in ruins. The demolition, part of a wider effort by local authorities to enforce zoning laws and remove unregulated structures on protected coastal land, marks a significant flashpoint in Bali’s ongoing struggle to balance mass tourism with the preservation of its cultural and environmental heritage.
Komang Agus, manager of the Morabito Art Cliff Villa—which is among the demolished properties—expressed deep despair as he surveyed the rubble of his workplace where he had worked for 16 years. “I have a wife, three sons, my father is sick and in the hospital, how am I going to support them?” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. “We understand the laws and the need for regulation, but why only here?”
The demolitions began in July under the direction of Bali’s re-elected governor Wayan Koster. Speaking at the outset of the campaign, Koster emphasized the government’s intent to enforce tourism zoning regulations strictly. “We cannot allow [unregulated developments],” he stated firmly while holding a hammer. “If we let these methods continue throughout Bali, Bali will be ruined.”
Bingin and surrounding beaches on the Bukit Peninsula, including Balangan, have been targeted due to a proliferation of unauthorized businesses—including warungs (small local eateries), homestays, boutique villas, and restaurants—built without government permission on land legally designated as protected. Authorities are now preparing to conduct comprehensive audits of tourism business permits across the island to curb further illegal development.
Many locals mourn the destruction as a loss not only of businesses but of a vital part of Bali’s surfing culture and communal identity. Bingin gained early fame in the 1970s and 1980s when Australian surfers discovered its world-renowned left-hand barrel waves. Local families responded by setting up simple warungs on the cliffs to cater to these visitors, creating a tightly knit community that some describe as magical.
“My family’s Kelly’s Warung was established for surfers by the family of local professional surfer Mega Semadhi,” said Semadhi. “This place feels like home, away from the noise and chaos above—a beautiful beach, beautiful wave and people. There are not many places like this left.”
Over recent decades, Bingin’s landscape has changed dramatically with family-run businesses expanding into multi-level luxury suites such as the now-demolished Morabito Art Cliff villa. The rising commercialization and property developments charging over A$200 a night have sparked debates about the loss of the area’s original character and soul.
Semadhi lamented the government’s past inaction despite community efforts to halt unchecked development. “The developments got out of control, people got greedy. We tried to stop it, but the government didn’t listen to us at the time,” he said. He called for inclusive planning moving forward: “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 and expatriates have also voiced sorrow and shock at the demolition. Many gathered on the beach during the ongoing dismantling, unaware of the authorities’ plans. Some expats, particularly Australians who have long formed a strong connection with Bingin, have been warned against publicly criticizing the government, fearing deportation.
An Australian surfer who has frequented Bingin for over 30 years described the beach as “very special,” recalling its humble beginnings when surfers had little but food and shelter on locals’ decks. “There was something magical about it,” he said.
Business owners, many foreigners, argue some properties existed before zoning laws were enacted, and they claim they operated with customary village permissions and efforts to comply with regulations. Alex Barung, a lawyer representing several proprietors, explained how the community initially recognized Bali’s tourism potential in 1985 but partnered with foreigners due to lack of capital, leading to business developments that predated formal government controls.
Critics question the transparency and fairness of the government’s enforcement campaign, warning that the loss of Bingin’s unique social and cultural environment threatens to harm not only local livelihoods but the island’s surfing heritage.
“This is part of Bali’s surfing heritage,” said local surfer and environmentalist Piter Panjaitan. “It became a hotspot, a golden egg of the Bukit peninsula. Now, 1,000 people are losing their jobs overnight. People are crying.” Panjaitan called for social justice and clearer governance, asking, “Why here, and why like this?”
Bali’s rapid growth complicates the issue. Its population has doubled since the 1960s to over 4 million, and tourism arrivals are projected to reach 6.5 million this year. Though the government has considered a moratorium on new developments, it has instead adopted stricter regulatory means to control the island’s expansion.
Local environmental group Walhi Bali supports curbing illegal growth but criticizes what it calls “selective enforcement,” highlighting many other unauthorized developments escaping scrutiny. “The inconsistency highlights the slow and weak governance in Bali’s development planning,” said Ida Bagus Arya Yoga Bharata of Walhi Bali.
Officials, however, deny allegations that the demolitions serve to pave the way for luxury developments. I Dewa Nyoman Rai Darmadi, head of Bali’s Public Order Agency, told the Guardian, “That’s a hoax. This is about safety.” He warned that many businesses clustered dangerously on steep cliffs, noting that the land is government property “not for business like currently.”
Governor Koster added that post-renovation, the area would become an attraction again, contributing to local welfare whether for surfers or other visitors. Yet no detailed redevelopment plan has been outlined, leaving locals anxious about their future role.
Despite the upheaval, Semadhi remains hopeful. “If they are going to do it, 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.”
As Bali navigates the complex intersection of heritage, community, and development, the fate of Bingin Beach serves as a poignant symbol of the island’s ongoing challenge to protect its essence amid modern pressures.
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