~In Borneo’s rainforests, I’ve seen that sustainability is not just a solution — it’s a story, rooted in rituals, respect, and resilience~
These days, the Word Sustainability is Everywhere
It’s on posters, packaging, in policies and speeches. It’s being sold to us like the latest lifestyle upgrade — as if we’ve just invented the idea of living wisely with nature. But here’s the truth: sustainability isn’t a futuristic concept we’re striving to reach — it’s an ancient wisdom we’ve forgotten.
Long before the term ‘net zero’ or ‘carbon footprint’ became buzzwords, indigenous communities in the Borneo Highlands, for example, were already practicing circular agriculture, forest stewardship, and biodiversity preservation. Sustainability isn’t new—it’s a tradition we abandoned.
As a Global Ambassador of Sustainability, I often hear the phrase, “we need to move towards a sustainable future.” But the truth is, we are not moving toward it — we are returning to it. Sustainability is not a trend we need to follow; it is a tradition we need to remember.
A Way of Life, Not a Slogan
In rural and indigenous communities, especially across Borneo, living sustainably has never been an abstract goal. It’s embedded in the rhythm of life.
From planting cycles aligned with lunar phases, to harvesting only what is needed, to taboos that prevent overhunting — these are not outdated customs. They are intelligent, adaptive systems of survival and respect.
When you visit a longhouse or walk with an elder into the rainforest, you quickly realize that every action is intentional. The forest is not seen as “natural capital” — it is family. Trees are not resources; they are relatives. Streams are not assets; they are lifelines. This relational worldview fosters not only balance with the environment but also a profound sense of responsibility.
Unfortunately, this way of seeing the world is often dismissed as unscientific, or even romanticised without truly being understood. But if we’re serious about building a sustainable future, we need to learn from those who never lost it in the first place.
Science Confirms What Tradition Already Knows
As an academician and biotechnology researcher, I have spent years studying traditional medicinal plants, often alongside indigenous elders. Our findings often confirm what these communities already know: that the biodiversity in Sarawak’s forests holds enormous untapped potential — not just for medicine, but for carbon capture, food resilience, and climate adaptation.
Take Poikilospermum suaveolens, known locally as Bakariap by the Kelabit community. Traditional healers have long used it for its healing properties. Only now are we beginning to document and analyze its compounds in the lab. While to some it may appear as just another forest shrub, to those who know its secrets, it is a trusted remedy and a symbol of the forest’s generosity.
Our lab studies confirm that Bakariap contains compounds with real pharmacological potential. And this is just one example. There are hundreds of plants like it — not yet classified in textbooks, but well understood in oral traditions. This is where science and heritage can walk hand-in-hand, not in conflict, but in dialogue.
The Risk of Losing Wisdom
Despite the richness of this knowledge, it is under threat. When land is cleared, or when younger generations grow disconnected from their heritage, we don’t just lose biodiversity — we lose the languages, stories, and practices that kept ecosystems intact.
To move forward, we must protect both the environment and the wisdom that protects it. Sustainability efforts must go beyond tree planting and green technology. They must include cultural continuity, land rights, and respect for local knowledge systems.
Bringing Local Wisdom into Global Conversations
Fortunately, this wisdom is beginning to find a voice again — not only in local revival efforts, but on the world stage. At international forums, academic seminars, and policy platforms, I’ve had the privilege to share insights from Sarawak’s communities. Not as a spokesperson who claims ownership of their stories, but as a conduit, a fellow learner, and a witness.
What resonates most with global audiences isn’t the novelty of these ideas, but their timeless relevance. In an era of climate anxiety and ecological collapse, people are yearning for examples of coexistence. Sarawak has those examples — not only in its biodiversity, but in its people.
From Ceremony to Sustainability
In many indigenous communities in Sarawak, taking care of the environment is not just something they talk about — it’s something they live and celebrate through their daily practices and traditional ceremonies.
For example, the Kelabit and Lun Bawang communities hold special rituals before planting and harvesting rice. These aren’t just religious acts — they’re ways of showing respect to the land and ancestors, asking for blessings, and reminding everyone that farming is a shared responsibility. It’s about harmony — with each other and with nature.
Even the timing of planting is guided by natural signs. People observe the moon, the stars, the flowering of certain trees, and the movement of animals. This is local knowledge that has helped them farm in tune with the environment for generations.
Among the Penan, there’s a powerful tradition called molong. It means not taking more than what you need. Whether hunting, gathering fruits, or using forest resources, they always make sure to leave enough for others and for the forest to recover. This kind of self-control and care comes from deep values, not from written rules or laws.
What we call “sustainability” today — reducing waste, conserving nature, living responsibly — is something these communities have practiced all along. It’s part of their way of life, their culture, their identity.
These traditions may look simple, but they carry powerful lessons. They teach us how to live with the land, not just on it. And in a world facing climate change and environmental damage, these lessons matter more than ever.
The Path Forward: Returning with Respect
The path to sustainability isn’t about replacing old ways with new technologies. It’s about integration — combining the best of modern innovation with the deep-rooted wisdom of the past. That includes recognizing the rights of indigenous people, ensuring their access to ancestral lands, and supporting knowledge transmission within communities.
As policymakers, educators, and citizens, we have a role to play. Not just in protecting ecosystems, but in protecting the cultures that sustain them.
We’re Not Starting from Zero
It’s time to shift the narrative. Sustainability isn’t an uphill battle we’ve just begun. It’s a return journey — back to values we once held, to knowledge we once honoured, to a way of living we called life.
If we can remember that, perhaps we’ll find that the answers we seek for a sustainable future were always with us — whispered in stories, grown in gardens, and carried through generations.
Because long before we gave it a name, we lived it.
