Deep inside Borneo’s forests, Indonesia is building a futuristic new capital intended to be renewable, high‑tech and greener than Jakarta. The decision to create Nusantara was announced in 2019 as a solution to Jakarta’s mounting problems—pollution, overcrowding and severe land subsidence—and construction began in 2022 on a site roughly two hours’ drive from Balikpapan.
The government’s core district is largely in place: white office towers with hanging plants, a bank whose curved shape resembles a spaceship, and a dramatic metal Garuda sculpture that stands about 250 feet tall with a wingspan of some 500 feet near a new presidential palace. But the broader program, budgeted at more than $30 billion, has run into setbacks and scrutiny. Logistics challenges, financing shortfalls and the 2024 presidential election slowed progress, and environmental and Indigenous rights groups have raised alarms about ecological damage and social disruption.
Today the metro area around Nusantara has an estimated 150,000 people, mainly construction crews and residents of nearby villages. The core administrative zone hosts about 10,000 people, including roughly 1,000 civil servants. Nusantara was a flagship project of former President Joko Widodo; after Prabowo Subianto took office in October 2024, some observers questioned whether the initiative would retain full political support. State allocations were reduced—funding for 2026 was roughly half of what was set aside in 2025—and though Prabowo visited Nusantara in January 2025, that trip came more than a year into his presidency.
A presidential regulation revised the designation of Nusantara from “national capital” to “political capital” by 2028, a change that confused lawmakers and analysts and fed concern the project might be de‑prioritized. Basuki Hadimuljono, head of the Nusantara Capital City Authority, pushed back, saying the project will continue and that legislative and judicial buildings will be completed next year. Authorities say the president plans to move in by 2028 and aim to relocate another 4,100 civil servants this year. Even so, lofty population targets—1.2 million residents by 2029 and far larger figures in some long‑range scenarios—look unrealistic given gaps in basic services: schools, housing suitable for married civil servants, shopping and entertainment options remain limited.
International commentary has warned the new city could become a “ghost town” if people and services fail to follow the glossy architecture. Officials insist development will go on, but on the ground the project involves difficult tradeoffs.
Environmental advocates say construction has already eaten into mangroves around Balikpapan Bay. WALHI East Kalimantan and other groups warn of “silent victims,” including mangrove ecosystems and species like the proboscis monkey and the endangered local owa primate. Skeptics doubt that a genuine “forest city” and fully inclusive smart metropolis can be built without significant ecological cost.
A newly built dam and water treatment plant provide most of Nusantara’s filtered drinking water—an uncommon convenience in many parts of Indonesia. Yet that infrastructure sits on the edge of Sepaku Lama village, home to Indigenous Balik people who have lived on the land for generations. A concrete flood‑control wall along the Sepaku River has severed villagers’ access to the river for bathing and laundry. The city supplies free water, but households must pay to have service pipes installed; many still collect rainwater or buy delivered water tanks.
For villagers like Syamsiah, 51, and her husband, Pandi, 53, life has been upended. They farm cassava, bananas and beans on land tended by their family for decades. Their village cemetery contains their parents and grandparents. A sacred river rock called Batu Badok now lies inside the fenced water treatment compound, cut off from the community. Officials have told residents their land will eventually be purchased for the expanding capital, but many are reluctant to sell. Pandi asks what compensation can replace memories and ancestral ties: “They already have a capital city. Why build a new one? Why don’t they just leave us here?”
Government planners argue moving the seat of government will relieve pressure on Jakarta, whose metropolitan area tops 40 million people and faces severe environmental and infrastructure strain. Nusantara’s footprint is planned at nearly 1,000 square miles—about three times the area of New York City—though authorities currently project a far smaller population, roughly 2 million, by 2045. As development progresses, surrounding villages like Sepaku Lama may be absorbed into the expanding urban fabric.
At present Nusantara is a patchwork: finished government buildings and monuments standing beside active construction sites, and traditional villages confronting rapid, often unwanted change. The project remains an ambitious promise—a planned green, smart political center—but also a looming question: can Nusantara meet its technical, financial and social aims without leaving people, cultures and ecosystems behind?