By Ali Syarief
This morning, I visited a friend, Shigen Ogasawara, at his home in Hakarigaoka, Tokyo. As often happens between old friends, our conversation wandered from one subject to another—family, culture, travel, and the experiences that shape our lives.
Then he shared a story that left me both moved and saddened.
Nearly thirty years ago, he was among a group of Japanese volunteers who traveled to Jakarta to participate in a mangrove planting project in the Kapuk coastal area. Along with others, he spent days planting young mangrove trees along the shoreline. Their mission was simple: to help restore a fragile ecosystem, protect the coast from erosion, and preserve the habitat of countless marine species, including shrimp that depend on mangrove forests for survival.
As I listened, I found myself reflecting on the remarkable cultural lesson hidden within his story.
Japan and Indonesia are very different nations. They have different histories, languages, political systems, and social traditions. Yet, three decades ago, a Japanese citizen felt a sense of responsibility toward a coastal ecosystem thousands of kilometers away from his homeland. He understood that environmental stewardship transcends national borders. Nature, after all, belongs to no single country.
This is where the story becomes both inspiring and tragic.
The mangrove forests that volunteers once worked to protect are now increasingly threatened by commercial development. Areas that should remain ecological buffers for Jakarta’s coastline face pressure from luxury real estate projects designed to serve a small and privileged segment of society.
The contrast is striking.
Thirty years ago, foreign volunteers arrived carrying shovels and seedlings. Today, developers arrive carrying architectural plans and investment proposals.
One group saw a living ecosystem.
The other sees valuable waterfront property.
From a cross-cultural perspective, this raises an important question: How do different societies define progress?
In Japan, environmental conservation is often viewed as an investment in future generations. The country has learned, sometimes through painful historical experiences, that economic growth without ecological balance ultimately creates greater costs. Coastal protection, forest preservation, and disaster mitigation are not merely environmental issues; they are matters of national resilience.
Indonesia possesses equally rich traditions of living in harmony with nature. Indigenous communities across the archipelago have long understood the importance of preserving forests, rivers, and coastal ecosystems. Yet modern development often places short-term financial gains above long-term environmental sustainability.
The irony is difficult to ignore.
A Japanese volunteer traveled overseas to help protect an Indonesian mangrove forest because he believed it was worth saving. Decades later, some of those same areas risk being transformed into exclusive developments that may benefit only a handful of people.
The story reminds us that environmental responsibility is not determined by nationality. Love for nature is not measured by passports. Sometimes those who live far away recognize the value of something more clearly than those who live beside it every day.
As I left my friend’s home this morning, I could not stop thinking about the young mangrove saplings he planted thirty years ago. I wondered how many have survived. I wondered how many have been cut down. And I wondered what future generations will think when they learn that foreigners once came to Indonesia to help save its mangrove forests while Indonesians themselves struggled to protect them from destruction.
Perhaps the greatest lesson from this cross-cultural encounter is that true development should not be measured by the number of luxury villas built along a coastline, but by whether future generations can still find living mangroves, thriving marine life, and a healthy environment where those villas now stand.
Because in the end, the real wealth of a nation is not found in its most expensive properties, but in the natural heritage it chooses to preserve.
