The Common Ground in Sebatik: Lessons Learned for Border Policy Making

When two nations share a border, the official line on a map is often treated as a wall. Governments build fences, station soldiers, and write strict laws to keep the line clear, viewing the border as a barrier that separates "us" from "them." This approach assumes that the most important thing about a border is its geography: the rivers, mountains, and coastlines that define territory. However, a different way of looking at these lines exists, one that focuses on the people living right on the edge. This perspective suggests that borders are not just lines drawn by politicians, but living spaces shaped by culture, family, and daily survival. In this view, the people on both sides of a border often share more than just a river; they share a history, a language, and a way of life that makes the official line feel less like a wall and more like a seam in a single fabric. Understanding this human reality is crucial because policies that ignore it can create tension, while those that respect it can foster cooperation.

Researchers from Indonesia and Malaysia recently turned their attention to a specific place where these two ways of seeing the world collide: Sebatik Island. This small island sits in the waters of Borneo, split directly down the middle by the border between Indonesia and the Malaysian state of Sabah. The island is home to Aji Kuning, a village on the Indonesian side where the Aji Kuning River flows directly into Malaysian waters. For decades, the people here have lived a life that defies the strict separation of the border. They are part of the same Malay world, sharing ethnic roots, religious beliefs, and family ties that stretch across the water. To understand how this community survives and thrives, a team of researchers spent several months living in Aji Kuning. They did not just look at maps or read government reports; they watched the market, sat with traders, and listened to the stories of the people who cross the river every day. Their goal was to see how these neighbors manage their economy and relationships without being stopped by the border.

What the researchers found was a complex web of connections that operates on a logic very different from official state policy. The people of Aji Kuning do not see the border as a stop sign. Instead, they see the river as a highway. The water is deep enough for small motorboats, and for years, residents have used these boats to zip back and forth to Tawau, a city in Malaysia just a short ride away. They go there to buy food, medicine, and fuel, and to sell their own crops and fish. This daily movement is not random; it is built on a foundation of kinship and shared ethnicity. The community is made up of several groups, including the Bugis, Javanese, and Dayak Tidung people. These groups have organized themselves into networks based on their shared backgrounds. For example, the Bugis people, who are known for their strong Islamic faith and trading history, have formed specific associations that help them manage business and support one another. These social ties act as a safety net, allowing traders to trust each other, share information about prices, and even help each other navigate the rules of two different countries.

The researchers observed that these social networks are the engine of the local economy. When a farmer needs credit to buy fishing gear, or a trader needs to know the current price of rice in Tawau, they do not rely on a bank or a government office. They rely on their cousins, their neighbors, and their ethnic brothers and sisters. This system works because the people on both sides of the border are essentially the same people, separated only by a political line. They share a common culture that makes them feel like one community. This shared identity allows them to bypass many of the difficulties that usually come with crossing an international border. They have developed "tips" and strategies, passed down through families, to move goods and people efficiently. Sometimes, this means using smaller boats to avoid taxes on larger vessels, or timing their trips to take advantage of currency fluctuations. These are not acts of rebellion in the sense of crime, but rather practical adjustments made by people trying to survive in a system where the official rules do not match their daily reality.

However, this delicate balance is constantly tested by government policies. In 2013, the Malaysian government closed the direct boat route from Sebatik to Tawau, citing safety concerns and poor infrastructure. This decision forced the people of Aji Kuning to take a much longer and more expensive route through a different port in Indonesia. The closure disrupted their daily lives, making it harder to get essential goods and increasing the cost of doing business. The researchers noted that when the government tries to enforce strict border controls without considering the local social fabric, it often creates friction. The people of Sebatik have learned to adapt, but the strain is visible. They continue to trade, but the ease of their movement has been reduced. The study highlights that when policies ignore the deep social and cultural ties that bind border communities, they risk turning a natural flow of life into a source of conflict.

The core lesson from Sebatik is that border management cannot be based solely on geography and security. The researchers argue that the "common ground" shared by these communities—their kinship, their history, and their economic interdependence—is a powerful force that should be recognized and used. Instead of trying to seal the border completely, policymakers should look at how these communities already work together. The study suggests that future agreements between Indonesia and Malaysia should be built on this reality. By acknowledging the shared identity of the people on both sides, governments can create policies that support their economic needs while still maintaining security. This approach would mean working with the local networks rather than against them, allowing for a more stable and peaceful border region.

The paper concludes that the border between Indonesia and Malaysia is not just a line to be defended, but a space to be understood. The people of Aji Kuning have shown that it is possible to live in a transnational world where the border is a bridge rather than a wall. Their success depends on the strength of their social ties and their ability to adapt to changing circumstances. For the researchers, the path forward is clear: border policies must be flexible enough to accommodate the sociocultural realities of the people who live there. If governments can learn to see the border through the eyes of the community, they can turn a potential source of tension into a model of cooperation. The river that divides the island does not have to divide the people; it can remain the waterway that connects them, just as it has for generations.