The Ship Is Sinking, and ASEAN Is Still Negotiating

How many more years must millions of people breathe polluted air before we stop treating the haze as an environmental problem and confront it as a failure of justice?

For nearly three decades, I have lived in Malaysia and watched this crisis return with disturbing familiarity. The skies darken, the air becomes difficult to breathe, and ordinary people adjust their lives to circumstances they neither created nor have the power to resolve. We monitor air quality, worry about our children and wait for the rain.

Eventually, the skies clear, public attention moves elsewhere, and the conditions that made the crisis possible remain largely unchanged. What troubles me most is not simply that the haze returns, but that we have gradually become accustomed to it.

This year, as the haze has persisted for months without a convincing sign of sustained improvement, I find myself asking a more fundamental question: how can a region that speaks confidently about economic growth, technological advancement and regional integration continue to tolerate a crisis in which the benefits of some economic activities accrue to a few while their environmental and health costs are imposed on millions?

Weather conditions, including drought, can intensify fires, but they do not fully explain the economic incentives, land-use decisions and institutional weaknesses that allow destructive practices to persist. Beneath the environmental crisis lies a deeper question about how we define progress, distribute responsibility and exercise political power.

A prophetic teaching offers a powerful framework for understanding this predicament. Al-Nu'man ibn Bashir reported that the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him) said:

"The parable of those who respect the limits of Allah and those who violate them is that of people who board a ship after casting lots, some of them residing in its upper deck and others in its lower deck. When those in the lower deck want water, they pass by the upper deck and say: If we tear a hole in the bottom of the ship, we will not harm those above us. If those in the upper deck let them do what they want, they will all be destroyed together. If they restrain them, they will all be saved together."

The significance of this hadith extends beyond a general appeal for good behaviour. It exposes the danger of pursuing private interests without regard for collective survival. The passengers who wish to make a hole in the ship may believe that their actions concern only themselves. Those on the upper deck may assume that the damage is someone else's responsibility. Both are mistaken. The ship is a shared vessel, and its survival depends on whether those who recognise the danger are willing to intervene before the consequences become irreversible.

The haze presents Southeast Asia with precisely this dilemma. Smoke crosses borders without seeking permission from governments. Pollution does not distinguish between those who benefit from land clearing and those who breathe its consequences. The atmosphere connects communities that may never meet, while decisions made in one location can threaten the health and livelihoods of people hundreds of kilometres away. The injustice is difficult to ignore: some actors may capture the economic benefits of destructive practices while the wider public is left to bear the costs.

As an academic without executive authority, my contribution lies primarily in my pen, my teaching and my ability to question established assumptions. I write in the hope that someone in a position of power might encounter these arguments and reconsider a policy, challenge an established practice or recognise a responsibility that has been neglected. For me, this is one expression of amr bil ma'ruf wa nahi 'an al-munkar: encouraging what is right and resisting what is wrong.

Yet the hadith also demands that we think beyond individual moral conduct. Responsibility must be understood in relation to capacity and authority. An ordinary citizen can raise awareness and demand accountability.

A scholar can investigate and challenge prevailing assumptions. Corporations control resources and make operational decisions, while governments possess the legal instruments to regulate conduct and prevent harm. These responsibilities are not identical. Those with greater power to prevent foreseeable harm have a correspondingly greater obligation to use that power responsibly.

It is therefore inadequate to tell people to wear masks, remain indoors and monitor air quality while neglecting the decisions that could prevent fires in the first place. Personal precautions are necessary, but they cannot substitute for effective public policy. Nor should we assume that every farmer or every fire has the same cause.

Smallholders may lack affordable alternatives, and responsibility must be established through evidence. The objective should be to change the incentives that make destructive land clearing attractive while ensuring that vulnerable communities are not unfairly burdened with the costs of reform.

ASEAN has already recognised that transboundary haze requires regional cooperation. The ASEAN Agreement on Transboundary Haze Pollution provides a framework for joint action, while the Haze-Free Roadmap 2023-2030 sets out the ambition of achieving a haze-free region. Yet the recurrence of the crisis raises an uncomfortable question: what is the value of regional commitments if they do not translate into sufficiently effective action?

ASEAN must move beyond a pattern in which governments reaffirm their commitments during a crisis only for attention to fade when the skies clear. Regional cooperation needs to become more effective at preventing the next episode, not merely managing the current one. This does not require abandoning national sovereignty. It requires recognising that sovereignty carries responsibilities when activities within one country's jurisdiction cause foreseeable harm beyond its borders. Respect for national independence should not become an excuse for avoiding legitimate questions about cross-border pollution and corporate accountability.

One practical step would be to establish a regional haze accountability mechanism that publishes annual assessments of progress. Rather than measuring success by the number of meetings held or declarations issued, ASEAN should report on tangible outcomes: reductions in recurring fire hotspots, areas of vulnerable peatland restored, investigations completed, penalties enforced and progress in adopting non-burning land-management practices.

These indicators should be independently verifiable, with clear responsibilities assigned to relevant authorities. Where targets are missed, governments should explain the reasons and identify corrective measures. Regional cooperation becomes meaningful when failures must be acknowledged as openly as successes are celebrated.

ASEAN should also strengthen cross-border investigations into fires and corporate supply chains. Satellite observations, land-concession records, fire data and corporate ownership information could be brought together through a regional evidence-sharing system. Where credible evidence links a company to illegal burning or negligent land management, relevant authorities should coordinate investigations and pursue appropriate action under national law.

Complex corporate structures should not become a convenient means of avoiding scrutiny. At the same time, investigations must respect due process and distinguish allegations from proven violations. Accountability will be credible only when it is evidence-based and consistently applied.

Another priority is to change the economics of land clearing. If burning remains substantially cheaper than responsible alternatives, enforcement alone will struggle to eliminate the incentive. ASEAN should expand financial assistance for smallholders, improve access to affordable machinery and technical support, and encourage agricultural practices that do not depend on destructive burning.

A regional haze-prevention fund could support peatland restoration, community fire brigades, sustainable land management and alternative livelihoods. Funding should be directed towards high-risk areas and assessed against independently verified results. Preventing environmental damage must become economically viable, while causing it should no longer be an inexpensive route to profit.

Technology can help, but it must serve a clear institutional purpose. Satellite monitoring, artificial intelligence, improved weather forecasting and real-time air-quality modelling can strengthen early detection and emergency response.

However, better data will make little difference if institutions fail to act on it. ASEAN should establish clear protocols specifying which authorities must inspect vulnerable areas, mobilise firefighting resources and alert neighbouring countries when fire risks reach agreed thresholds. Early warnings are useful only when they lead to timely action.

Public health must also become a central component of regional haze policy. Governments should improve access to reliable air-quality information, establish clear guidelines for schools and workplaces, protect outdoor workers and provide assistance to vulnerable households. We cannot predict the precise long-term consequences for every individual, but uncertainty about individual outcomes is no justification for complacency about established public-health dangers.

These measures are especially urgent as the region faces the possibility of increasingly difficult fire seasons. Climate variability and prolonged dry conditions can make fire prevention and suppression more challenging. ASEAN must therefore treat environmental intelligence, preventive investment and regional coordination as essential infrastructure rather than emergency measures to be assembled after a crisis has begun.

The deeper question is what kind of future Southeast Asia wishes to create. One possibility is that the region continues its familiar cycle: fires intensify, smoke crosses borders, governments issue statements, communities endure the consequences, and attention eventually shifts elsewhere.

Another is that each crisis becomes an opportunity for institutional learning. Environmental responsibility shapes corporate decisions, public investment rewards sustainable land management, and regional cooperation produces measurable improvements in people's lives. Neither future is inevitable. The choices made today will help determine which one becomes reality.

From an Islamic perspective, development cannot be measured exclusively through economic output or commercial expansion. The principles of amanah (trust), 'adl (justice) and maslahah (public welfare) require us to consider whose lives are protected, whose interests are prioritised and what burdens are transferred to future generations.

A society that increases its wealth while undermining the conditions necessary for human well-being must reconsider its understanding of progress. The protection of life cannot remain a moral declaration disconnected from land-use decisions, corporate incentives and public policy.

I return, finally, to the hadith of the ship. As an academic, I cannot compel governments to act, but I can question the reasoning that allows preventable harm to become normal. Those with political authority must translate these concerns into effective policies. Corporations must accept responsibility for their operations, and ASEAN must demonstrate that regional solidarity means more than shared statements of concern.

The haze may eventually disappear with the rain. But if the underlying incentives and institutional weaknesses remain unchanged, the disappearance of the smoke will not mean that the crisis has been resolved. It will simply mean that we have been given another interval before the next test of our collective responsibility.

The real measure of ASEAN's progress is not how efficiently it learns to manage polluted air, but whether it can create a future in which millions of people no longer have to fear another haze season.

The Prophet's parable leaves us with a choice: allow the hole in the ship to widen because the immediate benefits appear attractive, or act together to protect the vessel on which we all depend.

The ship is still ours. The future is still being shaped. And the time to act is before the water reaches everyone's deck.