Not far from where rice paddies once stretched green and wide across Bali’s central highlands, a farmer now walks across cracked soil. The rainy season arrived late, the groundwater has dropped, and the village’s old spring now trickles weakly—if at all. No alarms were raised, and no urgent memos were dispatched. The crisis didn’t begin with a flood or a war, but with silence. A silence we failed to interpret.
Indonesia, an archipelago defined by water, now finds itself grappling with its scarcity. From urban centers like Jakarta to rural provinces in Nusa Tenggara, the signs are mounting: groundwater depletion, contaminated rivers, saltwater intrusion, and uneven distribution. But amidst all the policy proposals and infrastructure projects, we may be overlooking one of the most powerful tools we have to prevent catastrophe—intelligence.
We often think of intelligence—or intelijen“—as belonging to the world of national security: tracking terror cells, monitoring political unrest, or guarding state secrets. But intelligence is, at its core, about foresight. It is the ability to detect threats early, understand their implications, and guide strategic responses before a crisis erupts. In this sense, water scarcity is not just an environmental or developmental challenge—it is a matter of national security, one that demands the attention of our intelligence community (UNEP, 2021).
Reading the Early Signs
Climate scientists and environmental experts have long warned that the 21st century will be defined by access to water. According to the World Resources Institute, Indonesia is among the countries experiencing increasing water stress, particularly in rapidly urbanizing regions like Jakarta, Bali, and Surabaya (WRI, 2019). Yet, our response remains reactive. Drought is met with emergency aid, not prevention. River pollution is addressed through cleanup drives, not enforcement. Illegal well-digging is known but rarely stopped (Tempo.co, 2021).
This is where intelligence services can play a transformative role. By gathering and analyzing data on groundwater levels, rainfall patterns, agricultural demands, and industrial consumption, intelligence agencies can build early warning systems—ones that predict not just physical shortages but also the social tensions they may provoke. Where will farmers first clash with plantation companies? Which districts are most likely to see urban protests over dry taps? Which watersheds are being quietly degraded by unregulated extraction?
A Strategic Blind Spot
Around the world, governments are beginning to grasp this. In the United States, the CIA’s Center for Climate and Security actively monitors how environmental degradation, including water scarcity, contributes to instability in fragile states (CCS, 2021). In Israel, water security is deeply intertwined with national defense, where satellite surveillance and cyber tools are used to monitor and manage scarce water resources.
Indonesia, with its vast geography and ecological diversity, needs its own version of this strategic thinking. Our intelligence institutions—such as Badan Intelijen Negara (BIN)—could expand their scope to include environmental and resource intelligence. Not in the sense of militarizing the issue, but of elevating it to the level of seriousness it deserves. A dedicated unit could monitor potential water conflicts, investigate water-related corruption, and assess the long-term sustainability of vital watersheds.
Intelligence Without Guns
To be clear, integrating intelligence into water governance doesn’t mean turning rivers into restricted zones or treating farmers as suspects. It means having the ability to see what others cannot—or will not. It means identifying when water bottling companies are drilling too deep, when forest encroachment threatens water catchment areas, or when climate models predict a failed wet season months in advance (Shiva, 2002).
And crucially, it means speaking truth to power. Intelligence should not only serve the state but the people—especially the vulnerable. Because water insecurity, like most crises, hits hardest those who are least prepared: subsistence farmers, peri-urban families, and fishing communities. If intelligence can be used to prevent a terrorist attack, it can surely be used to prevent a family from walking hours to fetch clean water.
Toward a Smarter Resilience
The Indonesian government has made strides—launching initiatives like the National Water Resources Council and integrating climate risks into national planning. But we are still not thinking ahead enough. Intelligence offers us a way to do just that: to plan not just for tomorrow’s crisis, but to prevent it altogether.
We must stop treating water as merely a sectoral issue for engineers and environmentalists. It is a cross-cutting, strategic concern that touches everything: food, health, security, and sovereignty. If we continue to approach it with the tools of yesterday, we will find ourselves fighting the battles of tomorrow unarmed.
Perhaps the clearest lesson is this: the next great challenge may not be fought with weapons but with wisdom. And in that struggle, intelligence—quiet, data-driven, and future-oriented—may be our greatest defense.
