Bali has lost more than 6,500 hectares of rice fields in the past five years, a decline of over 9%, according to the Bali national land agency. A 2018 Transnational Institute report estimated that Bali had already lost nearly a quarter of its agricultural land as tourism grew by 330% in the previous 25 years. Along with the rice fields, a centuries-old infrastructure that treated water as a gift to be shared is disappearing.
Farmers Feel the Squeeze
I Putu Partayasa, known as Parta, pushes his fingers into the soil at the edge of a rice terrace. They come up dry. His field has water; his neighbour’s does not. “We have a big problem in the dry season,” he says. “Fifteen years ago, we have water every day. But today it’s getting less.” The 52-year-old farmer is lucky because his plot sits high enough in the irrigation system to still get his share. He fears he knows where the rest is going. “Companies take our water,” he says, “and bring it to the tourism places.” He gestures at the terraces below, a patchwork of green and brown that was once all green. “The forest is getting smaller. The springs are drying.” Parta, who earns about 1.5 million Indonesian rupiah a month (£62), has farmed this land his entire life. “We used to drink from the river. Now we buy plastic bottles.”
The Subak System Under Threat
Parta belongs to a subak, the water-sharing cooperative that has governed Balinese irrigation since the ninth century – part temple council, part farming guild, part philosophy. Members meet in temple courtyards to decide when water flows, who receives it, and in what order. Offerings are made to the water goddess Dewi Danu, and water is not viewed as a resource but as a gift to be shared. UNESCO recognised the system as a world heritage site in 2012. For more than 1,000 years it has linked springs to field to family, but that chain is breaking.
Tourism's Appetite for Water
Bali recorded more than 16 million tourists in 2024, four times its permanent population. While tourism is a big part of Bali’s economy, that volume of visitors has not only changed the skyline but also the island’s relationship to water: tourism consumes over 65% of Bali’s fresh water. Rice fields are not only income – they are water infrastructure. A paddy slows runoff, stores water and recharges the aquifer below. When it is sealed under concrete, that function is permanently gone. Many of Parta’s neighbours have already sold their land, and his children have no interest in farming.
Groundwater Extraction and Seawater Intrusion
In southern Bali, where development is concentrated, groundwater extraction has pushed aquifers beyond sustainable levels in many areas, according to research by IDEP’s Bali water protection programme and local hydrologists. Coastal wells are turning brackish as seawater moves inland to fill the void. The IDEP Foundation, a Bali-based NGO, declared Bali to be in water crisis in 2018. It has since found seawater intrusion in at least six of the island’s nine districts.
Residents Struggle for Water
Kadek Siska, 35, and her mother live in Uluwatu, one of Bali’s most photographed clifftop sites. Many mornings begin with the same question: is there water today? “Before, people here would give land for free to another Balinese,” she says, “and they would not take it. Because everyone knew there is no water.” Now Uluwatu is among the most expensive real estate in Bali. Their house is connected to the government’s public water network, PDAM. On a good day, water moves through the pipes for an hour. “My mom leaves the taps on so we can hear it,” Siska says. “And then we stand by and fill everything we have.” If the station runs dry, they call numbers painted on the backs of hundreds of water trucks that pass through Uluwatu every day. A 5,000-litre delivery costs about 350,000 rupiah. Drinking water is bought separately by the jug and can erode a tenth of the household’s income.
Inequality in Water Use
IDEP estimates that a tourist in a resort uses 2,000-4,000 litres a day for pools, gardens, laundry and hotel operations, while the average Balinese resident gets by on 30-50 litres. A few minutes’ drive from Siska’s house, a luxury resort receives its first water delivery before most guests are awake. Then the trucks keep coming: eight to 10 a day, according to a security guard who asked to remain anonymous. Each carries about 5,000 litres, meaning up to 50,000 litres can be delivered to a single property daily, enough to supply Siska’s household for nearly a year. “Of course there is jealousy,” Siska says. “But what else can they do?”
The Water Business
Following the trucks leads to the Jimbaran neighbourhood. In the backyard of a family compound, behind a gate, sits a borewell, its shaft sunk deep into the ground. A pump pulls water up through a pipe and into dozens of waiting tank trucks idling in the narrow lane. The owner holds a government permit from Jakarta. An operator buys the water wholesale and resells it by the truckload to hotels and villas. No one is responsible for what happens to the aquifer below. The operation has been running for 15 years. Luxury hotels call each morning to confirm the order; higher-paying customers are prioritised, according to the water reseller who oversees the deliveries. However, IDEP staff say their research suggests there are about 10,000 water businesses in Bali, roughly half of which operate illegally or without proper permits. While drilling a well for personal use is permitted, it is less clear whether selling that water commercially falls under the same licence.
Regulatory Gaps
The Bali provincial government said any commercial groundwater extraction required a permit. Borewells designated for household or personal use, it said, “are not permitted to be traded or repurposed for the commercial/industrial sector”. The province did not provide a figure for how many licensed groundwater or tanker-water businesses currently operate in Bali, adding that inspections and enforcement over the past five years had fallen under central government authority.
Calls for Action
Niluh Djelantik, a shoe designer, social media influencer and a senator for Bali in Indonesia’s regional representative council (DPD), wants a moratorium on new hotel construction and enforcement of groundwater extraction rules. “When you build a hotel, you have to provide water for thousands of people,” she says. “The revenue of Bali tourism comes from the sweat of the people. They don’t need another stress.” In Canggu, farmland has declined by 60% while land under development has increased by 69%. “Where are the rice fields?” she asks. What dismantled the protections was replacing community consultation with a national online permitting system that lets investors apply remotely, Djelantik says. “In the past, before you start, you need to ask your neighbours. Now developers can build right next to your house without asking.”
A Water Priest's Stand
Northwards, in the hills above Munduk, Rudi Pak, 49, rises before dawn to make his offerings – flowers, rice, a small cup of coffee set aside for God. He is a water priest, responsible for a waterfall and guardian of the Balinese-Hindu philosophy known as Tri Hita Karana: the relationship between humans, God and nature. Developers have offered to buy his land for 1 billion rupiah per 100 square metres, from the waterfall up the steep hills to his family’s home. Rudi’s land is considered particularly valuable because of its vast, unobstructed views. His daughter Tarisa translates: “We will not sell it because we want to preserve it for the next generation. We already live here as the fourth generation. We will keep this for the next.” Rudi looks out across the hills. “Because this is my land,” he says. “This is still green.”
