One day (March 16, 2024), I was sitting in my room, exhausted after school, when one of my Indonesian friends sent me a video on Instagram. At first glance, I was shocked. I thought it was a clip from the movie “The Impossible (2012)” because I had never seen anything like this before. I saw cars floating like boats; public facilities, shops, and residential homes being submerged. I saw women and children struggling for their lives. But this wasn’t science fiction. This is the reality in Pekalongan City, a place where the sea hadn’t merely visited, it had moved in. Imagine waking up to find that your home, your street, your community, is underwater. Not due to a massive tsunami, but from the relentless rise of the tide. You scramble to move your furniture to higher ground, yet the water keeps creeping in. You look around, and your neighbours are doing the same. Flooding isn’t even an event anymore – it has become a lifestyle.

Curious and disturbed, I began researching how local communities were adapting. Between 27 May and 5 June 2025, I conducted a participatory field observation in Pekalongan City, supported by two members of the Disaster Response Volunteer Team (Tanga). We toured four coastal villages: Jeruksari and Mulyorejo, located in Tirto Sub-district; and Krapyak and Degayu, situated in North Pekalongan District. After this, I came to know it as “the slowly drowning city.”

A City Sinking into the Sea

Pekalongan City is located in Central Java, on the edge of the Java Sea, making it extremely vulnerable to coastal flooding. The most common type of coastal flooding in Pekalongan City is tidal flooding, which occurs almost daily during high tides, forcing thousands of residents out of their homes (Perdinan et al., 2023). Between 2019 and 2022, coastal flooding increased from 1,057 hectares (23.35% of the area) to 1,730 hectares (38.23% of the area) (Ibrahim et al., 2024). And by 2035, approximately 90% of the city is projected to be permanently underwater (see Rayda, 2022). That’s not a distant future; that’s within the lifetime of today's youth and children.

Both natural and human-made activities, such as rising sea levels, land subsidence, and groundwater extraction, have made tidal flooding a frequent reality in Pekalongan City. The streets in the city are turning into canals. Residential homes, mosques, and schools stand half-submerged. Women and children walk through dirty water to reach markets and schools. This is an environmental challenge that cannot be avoided, and at the same time, it’s a test of adaptation, survival, and governance.

Local Response: Everyday Adaptation from the Ground Up

What struck me most in Pekaloagan City was the creativity and determination of its people. Without waiting for national policy or global aid, local communities are adapting by changing their everyday activities in ways that are practical, clever, and deeply rooted in local knowledge. For example, in Degayu and Krapyak, where rice farming is the main source of livelihood, farmers are now converting their lands into aquaculture, raising catfish and tilapia (Firdaus, 2023). In the Mulyorejo area, farmers are thriving on vegetables grown in home-made gardens. Some families have even raised their entire homes by nearly a metre using wood and cement blocks, creating dry sanctuaries above the rising tides.

This is what scholars call “everyday adaptation” – specific kinds of actions performed routinely, not dramatic, not donor-funded, but deeply effective (Cianconi et. al., 2021). Castro & Sen (2022) referred to this routine action as “living with climate change” when local communities adjust their daily routines to survive the current climate realities. Civil society is also playing a crucial role in Pekalongan City. Non-government organisations such as Yayasan ADBMI and Kobar, a youth-led climate group, often organise flood preparedness training, distribute flood maps, and educate locals on water management (Firdaus, 2023). They act as bridges between local wisdom and institutional knowledge, a critical role often ignored in disaster frameworks (Dapilah et al., 2021). This community-led adaptation is remarkable, but it is also not enough. Without systematic support, it becomes a fragile patchwork rather than a long-term solution.

Governance Challenges: When Collaboration Turns into Control

Adapting to climate change requires more than individual effort; it demands collaborative governance, and there the problem lies. In the context of adaptation, stakeholders such as government institutions, the private sector, and local communities must have the capacity to collaborate (Ramdani & Mustalahti, 2023). That is, we must shift from traditional models, where decision-making is top-down, to a more inclusive, participatory model that unites citizens, researchers, the private sector, institutions, and governments to co-create solutions.

There are some hopeful examples of collaboration in Pekalongan City, but there are also gaps. One successful initiative is the Blue Deal Program, a transnational partnership between the Dutch Water Authority (DWA) and the Pekalongan City Government. The program focuses on sustainable water management, constructing embankments, and transferring expertise (Kutnadi & Nasution, 2022). Interestingly, this program creates space for mutual learning, integrating local community knowledge about weather patterns, land use, and community behaviour into technical designs. Similarly, the establishment of “Disaster-Responsive Villages,” where community leaders and youth are trained in emergency protocols, is transforming citizens from passive to active first responders (Kutnadi, Yumna, & Haryati, 2021). These efforts combine early warning systems, evacuation planning, and real-time communication networks, creating a safety net built on trust and proximity. 

Nevertheless, these initiatives are the exception, not the norm. The collaborative spirit in Pekalongan City and Indonesia more broadly remains top-down and centralised. Critical decisions are made by national or city-level authorities with little to no consultation from those most affected. For instance, last year, March 13-14, 2024 flood in Pekalongan City presents a tragic case in point. Thousands of residential homes and public facilities were damaged, and many residents couldn’t evacuate in time. Statistically, at least 49 people were displaced, 70 households were damaged, and two people lost their lives (see Utami, 2024). But these outcomes weren’t only the result of rising waters; they were the result of delayed responses and bureaucratic obstacles. The consequence? People fought for their lives, some were displaced, some died, some waited for days for assistance that never arrived. As Doelle & Majekolagbe (2023) argue, when people are excluded from decisions that affect their lives, governance becomes control, not collaboration.

Knowledge and Resource Gaps: Sharing in Theory, Hoarding in Practice

True collaboration depends not just on good intentions but on equal access to knowledge and resources. Yet, in climate adaptation, there’s often an implicit assumption that local communities are passive recipients of knowledge from government institutions, scientists, or donors. However, Pekalongan City disproves this. For instance, most of the residents don’t have smartphones to access climatic information from the Meteorology, Climatology, and Geophysics Agency (translated from Indonesian: Badan Meteorologi, Klimatologi, dan Geofisika – BMGK). But local fisherfolk there can perfectly predict tides as accurately as satellite data on wind direction, wave temperature, and rising tides. Similarly, farmers can determine how soil salinity has changed simply by tasting the water. What they need is not just education; they are showing that they are aware of climate impacts. What they need is authority, resources, and autonomy to act on their knowledge.

This is called “co-production of knowledge, where local and scientific knowledge collectively work together, providing a more inclusive and effective model (Emerson & Gerlak, 2014). The Blue Deal Program in Pekalongan City does this well by involving local leaders in the design of embankments. Similarly, local NGOs hold forums encouraging residents to share their ideas and daily experiences. But these initiatives still face resistance as some actors want to remain dominant. Scholars have shown that government institutions in Indonesia often tend to control and dominate decision-making processes, particularly those with authority and financial power (Nining et al., 2021; Prianto & Abdillah, 2023; Wiati et al., 2022). As a result, decision-making rarely includes feedback mechanisms or community deliberation.

And then there’s the issue of resource inequality. Everyone loves the rhetoric of “shared responsibility” – until it’s time to share resources. In Pekalongan City, most financial resources go into big infrastructure projects, such as embankments, seawalls, and drainage systems. I am not arguing that these projects are not helpful, but further efforts are needed to effectively manage and mitigate tidal flooding, like direct and timely assistance to people trying to elevate their homes or rebuild their livelihoods, such as floating farms, etc. The March 2024 flood exposed the limitations of this approach. During the events, grassroots groups, such as the Disaster Response Volunteer Team (Tanga), who knew where help was needed most, lacked basic supplies like boats, food items, or flood kits to deliver. Meanwhile, emergency responses and supplies sat tangled in bureaucratic red tape (Kutnadi et al., 2025).

But we understand from existing studies that decentralised resource sharing often leads to more flexible, faster, and fairer responses (McNaught, 2024; Yanou et al., 2023). So why does the old model persist? Well, because those who control resources don’t just manage aid – they shape narratives, maintain visibility, and secure their place in the political spotlight. And very few are willing to let that go. As it is famously quoted, “He who pays the piper calls the tune”.

Opportunities & Recommendations: From Centralised Control to Co-created Resilience

     1. From Transfer to Mutual Exchange: Putting Local Knowledge in the Driver’s Seat

In climate discourse, we often treat local communities as passive recipients of expert knowledge. In reality, they are aware of climate change and its impacts. They can detect shifts in weather patterns, temperature, water levels, plant life cycles, and other natural phenomena. They also have practical strategies to adapt to changing climate conditions, such as traditional farming practices, water management techniques, or community-based disaster preparedness. Their knowledge isn’t supplementary; it’s essential. Therefore, every climate policy should start with them at the centre, rather than being “shared” after decisions are made.

     2. Decentralising Funding, Not Just Responsibility

Most climate policies tend to assign responsibilities to local communities without providing sufficient resources to act. The reality is that adaptation efforts will fail if resources remain concentrated at the top in the hands of a few. No single actor can tackle a societal issue like climate change – everyone must contribute. Governments and donors should establish direct funding channels to grassroots organisations (e.g. rural women, youth) and local leaders to enable effective action. Decentralising budgeting systems will reduce bureaucratic red tape and empower those closer to affected areas. This ensures that victims are not only obliged to respond but are also equipped with the resources needed to act promptly. Trust is built through equitable financial support, not just statements of solidarity.

     3. Build Collaborative Infrastructure That Locals Co-Design

Climate change is a sensitive issue for local communities because it directly impacts their livelihoods and environment, and they are the first to experience its tangible effects. No policies or initiatives based solely on foreign expertise will succeed unless local people are respected, and their perspectives are integrated into technical designs and infrastructure. Infrastructure must transcend concrete; it must be co-produced. We need models where local communities are not merely consulted but actively co-create solutions. Therefore, policymakers and donors should support local innovations and practices not as charity, but as legitimate and replicable policy models.

Conclusion

What’s happening in Pekalongan City isn’t an isolated crisis—it’s a reflection of cities around the world facing climate change. The tragedy isn’t merely the rising waters; it’s that the burden of survival rests on those with the least power and the fewest resources. 

Yet, there is resilience here: raw, local, and human. It’s not made in conference rooms, but in the muddy streets of Krapyak and the gardens of Mulyorejo. If we want adaptation to be just and effective, we must transition from centralised control to collaborative governance that respects and empowers local communities. We need co-created, nourished, and shared solutions. 

Because in the end, the sea doesn’t negotiate. But we can.

This opinion draws from my fieldwork and forthcoming research titled “Collaborative Governance for Everyday Adaptation to Coastal Flooding: A Case Study from Pekalongan City, Central Java,” accepted for presentation and publication at the International Conference on Development Economics and Sustainability, 2025 (ICDES2025).