‘They did it smiling’: This favourite Bali beach spot was destroyed – and another could be next

Some have been here for decades, attracting no attention until now.

“The worst thing is that when they did it, they did it smiling, like ‘this is great!’” Tony says, referring to the footage of hammer-wielding Bali governor Wayan Koster, who joined in the destruction for the cameras.

So pleased was the government at rooting out tax and permit dodgers, its press release noted how, “dozens of employees were seen screaming hysterically during the demolition”.

Small eateries and basic accommodation began popping up on the cliff in the 1970s, when foreign surfers first discovered the quality of the break. But with each passing year, more and fancier developments started to emerge, often backed by foreign money, including from Australia.

The government apparently decided it had seen enough.

The thing to watch from here is whether Bingin Beach is just the thin edge of the wedge. Presently, the provincial government is “preparing an audit and investigation team for all tourism business permits in Bali”.

It’s unclear what this will mean in practice. But it seems the owners of businesses in no-build zones – generally within 100 metres of the high-tide mark – are on notice, unless they have the right paperwork, an opaque (and often corrupt) concept here.

Clearly, the audit will have dramatic repercussions for Bali if the government follows through as it has with Bingin. Already, investigators have warned the owners of huge beach clubs on the famous Melasti beach and others that they are breaking the rules.

Are these sleek fun-houses filled with open-shirted and bikini-clad Aussies next on the hit list?

Truly, it seems absurd that investors would sink tens of millions of dollars into the clubs without being sure that everything was above board. Then again, so a local told me, “that’s not how things work in Bali, or Indonesia for that matter”.

None of the owners or managers at Melasti Beach wanted to talk, though one did offer “of course”, when asked if their business was paying tax. This is curious. If the buildings are indeed illegal, who is collecting that money?

Back at Bingin Beach, one of the business owners told us it didn’t pay anything. Others, however, allegedly did, or do. One former restaurant manager said the business set aside 10 per cent of income and paid it monthly to an unnamed person, a claim we could not verify.

But even if money was changing hands at Bingin, legitimate or otherwise, it didn’t do any good in the end.

It’s eerie passing through the once-thriving shops on the way down the cliff. The structures still stand, but the insides have been smashed-up and ripped out. Debris and dust cover the floors.

The place we’re standing now used to be a coffee joint, the Cammas say. Next door is where they’d get nasi goreng for lunch. They point to where the monkeys used to run around and, up top, where there was a deck overlooking the ocean.

It’s where their daughter’s partner proposed.

The rumour is that the government wants the cliff cleared so a mega-developer can build a cash-cow resort or beach club. Officials say this is not true.

Local village head, I Made Karyana Yadnya, tells us of a recent meeting with government types that settled on four points.

First, there will be no big investor taking over. Second, the beach must remain accessible during the demolition work. Third, the government will deploy more trucks to remove the rubble faster.

“And lastly, when replanning happens for the cleared area, the local community will not be marginalised – the local community will be part of it,” Karyana says.

This suggests that small Bingin Beach businesses may yet rise again, though who knows what “replanning” will produce. The term “local community” is a little ambiguous, too. Karyana says it’s up to the government to decide who falls into that category.

Tony Camma, the Australian, understands why authorities are shutting down the businesses, even if he doesn’t agree with it. It’s a shame that some developer on the cliff went too far, he says, without naming names.

“Do you know what really ruined it? The Europeans,” he says.

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Maybe the cliff should just return to how it was decades ago, before the surfers turned up.

Argentinian man Ignaciou Gonzales has just loped up clutching two surfboards, his young family in tow. I ask what he makes of the destruction and rubble.

“If it’s going to be green, I agree,” he says.

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