When I think of Jakarta, I picture gleaming skyscrapers, packed shopping centres and traffic that never sleeps. It’s a city that seems to stretch ever upwards — a symbol of progress, modernity and ambition. But beneath this urban rise lies a quiet crisis, one that’s creeping steadily into the lives of the city’s most vulnerable. 

Jakarta, home to over 11mn people, is literally sinking. It’s a city of dreams for many, yet whole communities are facing a nightmare, worsened by climate change, patchy urban planning and unchecked development. 

Jakarta’s floods have touched my life too. Back in 2015, I was working in Kemang, a well-known affluent district in South Jakarta, full of cafés, shops and offices. The building where I worked wasn’t a high-rise but more of a home-office style setup, located close to a local town river. One day, after heavy rains, the floodwaters started creeping inside, and we had to scramble to rescue office equipment before the water reached our desks. 

Floods a part of life 

I have to admit, it wasn’t really scary—because floods, sadly, have become almost a normal part of life in Indonesia. I grew up in Bandung, West Java, at my grandma’s house, where I remember playing happily in the rain and water as a child. Floods were fun back then, a chance to splash around without a care. 

In Jakarta, things felt a bit different. There was some panic as we tried to save laptops and files, but we soon found ourselves laughing at the absurdity of the situation and made the best out of it by relocating our work to a nearby café, and ended our day mopping and cleaning the office together.

Three years later, when I was living in South Jakarta, the floods trapped me at home. The streets around my house were submerged, and I couldn’t get to the office at all. I remember feeling helpless watching the water rise outside my window, lucky though that I had a safe place to wait it out. The flood also caused massive traffic jams — and just the other day, I spent three hours inching through flooded streets, stuck in the kind of traffic only Jakarta can deliver.

These experiences might seem small compared to those living with constant flooding, but they showed me just how vulnerable even the better-off parts of the city are. And they made me realise how much harder it must be for those with no escape, no dry refuge and no choice but to face the floodwaters every day.

It’s the poor and marginalised — fishermen, low-income families and flood-prone neighbourhoods — that are feeling the first and hardest blows. I haven’t walked the alleyways of villages like Kampung Muara Baru, Teko or Marunda, or stood at the edge of their waters, but the stories and reports coming out of these places are impossible to ignore.

Trapped between waste and water scarcity

In North Jakarta lies Kampung Muara Baru, sometimes called Kampung Pojok. According to Kompas, this "floating village" paints a stark picture of urban poverty. Stilt homes here are slowly decaying, balanced on bamboo walkways that threaten to give way with each step. The air is thick with the stench from a nearby fish auction house — earning the area the nickname kampung bau, or “the smelly village”.

Clean water is a luxury. With no piped supply, families rely on tankers, often paying high prices just to fill a few jerry cans. Some go days without bathing. Others ration what little water they can afford, using it only to cook or drink. And as if the water crisis weren't enough, rising tides and unpredictable weather patterns have disrupted fishing — the main source of income for many.

Flooded homes, uncertain futures

To the west, Kampung Teko — nicknamed the “Floating Village” — is no stranger to rising waters. Antara reports that residents here have been battling floods for decades, lifting homes on stilts and raising land levels by two metres just to stay dry. Yet despite these efforts, the floods persist.

In 2023, Kumparan noted that the area experienced an unusual drought due to El Niño, parching the already limited water supply. Then came the rainy season, bringing the floods back. 

The government has proposed relocating families to vertical flats in Daan Mogot, West Jakarta, but many residents resist. Moving would mean leaving homes passed down through generations. Paying rent in new developments also raises questions of affordability for families barely scraping by.

Industry encroaches on seaside tranquillity

North of the capital, Kampung Marunda once enjoyed a reputation for its beaches and calm surroundings. Today, that picture has all but disappeared. Detik reports that factories and apartment blocks now crowd the shoreline. With mangroves cleared and natural buffers gone, tidal flooding has become a serious threat.

Over-extraction of groundwater and rising sea levels have made matters worse. The sea, once a source of livelihood and leisure, is now feared. Residents live under constant threat of losing their homes. Erosion is no longer a hypothetical — it’s happening in real time.

Further east in Karawang, West Java, VOA sheds light on the struggle of Cemarajaya village. Located two hours from Jakarta, this coastal community has watched its land shrink as the sea steadily creeps in. Residents are building makeshift barriers — sandbags, bamboo fences, anything to hold the ocean back. But year after year, the coastline retreats. And they know it’s not a battle they’re likely to win without serious help.

Government action — and backpedalling

Under former president Joko Widodo (2014-2024), Indonesia made visible strides: the Ministry of Finance introduced green Sharia bonds, Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) bonds and tax incentives to attract climate-related investments. These efforts supported Indonesia’s pledge under the Paris Agreement — to cut greenhouse gas emissions by 31.89% independently and up to 43.20% with international assistance by 2030. Climate priorities were even embedded into the National Development Plan (2020-2024).

But now, under President Prabowo Subianto, the picture is far less certain. Conservation news portal Mongabay reports mixed signals: while he promised to end fossil fuel-based plants by 2040 and ramp up renewable capacity to 75 gigawatts, his administration has floated the idea of exiting the Paris Agreement entirely and reversing Indonesia’s coal phase-out. Coal still fuels 85% of the country’s electricity. Meanwhile, neighbouring countries like Vietnam and Singapore are rapidly scaling up clean energy.

Without consistent, investor-friendly policies, Indonesia risks falling behind. And more importantly, it’s not just about reputation — it’s about justice. The people living in places like Muara Baru and Kampung Teko don’t have time for policy hesitation. They’re already living through the consequences.

The people get it

According to the Ipsos People and Climate Change 2025 report, 81% of Indonesians believe that failing to act now will betray future generations — second only to the Philippines globally. The same percentage expect their government to step up, the highest figure in Southeast Asia.

Yes, there are economic concerns: 38% worry about harming the global economy by ditching fossil fuels, and 36% fear blackouts from switching to renewables. But nearly half, 48%, believe clean energy will improve air quality. Only 26% think electric vehicles are as harmful as petrol-powered ones, showing a strong baseline of public trust in green solutions.

Even for those like me, who haven’t faced the full weight of sinking homes or water scarcity, Jakarta’s floods are more than just an inconvenience — they’re a warning sign. And it’s a warning we can no longer afford to ignore.

This article is part of a series on the impact of the Climate Crisis on major cities around the world. 

The other articles in the series are: 

Cities confront the rising tide of climate change

Taipei’s climate countdown

Accra under water