The Drowning Edge – ASEAN’s Response to Rising Sea Levels

To speak of rising sea levels in Southeast Asia is not to predict a future calamity—it is to describe a present one, creeping in salt by salt, storm by storm. In much of the ASEAN region, climate change is no longer a matter of speculative modeling or diplomatic rhetoric. It is, quite literally, eating away the coastlines. Across the ASEAN bloc, the seas are not just rising, they are redefining the relationship between people, states, and the land beneath their feet. In much of the region, the policy response remains a patchwork of fragmented planning and elite indifference.

The regional response remains uneven. Some states, driven by economic pragmatism or desperation, have taken bold if flawed steps. Others remain tangled in the contradictions of short-term growth and long-term survival. What follows is not a sentimental lament but a sober account of how each ASEAN state is positioned—politically, ecologically, and ethically—against the encroaching sea.

Thailand: A State Caught Between Concrete and Collapse

Thailand’s climate adaptation story unfolds in the slow drowning of its capital. Bangkok, home to more than 10 million people and accounting for 44% of the nation’s GDP, is sinking at a rate of 2 to 3 cm annually due to land subsidence, according to Thailand’s Geo-Informatics and Space Technology Development Agency (GISTDA, 2022). Coupled with rising sea levels in the Gulf of Thailand—currently accelerating at 4 mm per year—this creates a lethal confluence of threats.

Thai government’s response oscillates between technocratic vision and political paralysis. The Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (BMA) has launched the “Bangkok Master Plan on Climate Change 2013–2023,” emphasizing hard infrastructure: levees, underground water tunnels, and massive water retention systems like the Bung Nong Bon reservoir. But the implementation record is mixed. According to a 2020 review by the Thailand Development Research Institute (TDRI), only 38% of the proposed flood prevention projects had been completed due to budget shortfalls, land acquisition delays, and corruption allegations within municipal procurement systems.

The Royal Irrigation Department (RID) continues to rely heavily on sea walls along coastal provinces like Samut Prakan and Chachoengsao. Yet, in a tragic irony, these walls often exacerbate the very erosion they are designed to prevent. A study by the Chulalongkorn University Faculty of Engineering (2019) found that more than 70 km² of mangrove forests were lost between 2000 and 2017 due to poorly designed coastal defenses that disrupted tidal flows and sedimentation.

Land reclamation for elite infrastructure—particularly under the Eastern Economic Corridor (EEC) scheme—is compounding vulnerabilities. The EEC, a $45 billion mega-project backed by the Board of Investment (BOI), has fast-tracked industrial port development and luxury tourism complexes along the Rayong-Chonburi coast. These are zones that will be partly inundated within two to three decades under the IPCC’s moderate scenario (RCP 4.5), yet there is no legal requirement for climate impact assessments in EEC construction licenses.

At the local level, community-based adaptation is weakly supported. While the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment (MONRE) launched the “Community-Based Disaster Risk Management” (CBDRM) program in 2018, only 11% of coastal communities in Thailand have received any training or funding, according to a 2023 report by the Asian Disaster Preparedness Center (ADPC). Fishing communities in Phang Nga and Trang routinely report being excluded from consultation processes, especially when their lands are targeted for tourism development.

Thailand’s ruling elites, deeply tied to construction lobbies and patronage networks, have little incentive to challenge this trajectory. The technocrats know the risks. The scientists have sounded the alarms. But politics—driven by short election cycles and investor promises—remains the sea wall through which no tide of reason can yet break.

Malaysia: Twin Shores, Uneven Futures

Malaysia presents a split screen of climate vulnerability and adaptive disparity. On one side lies Peninsular Malaysia, where urbanized states like Selangor, Johor, and Penang have poured substantial resources into coastal defense. On the other, the Bornean states of Sabah and Sarawak—rich in biodiversity but poor in federal investment—stand increasingly exposed to the encroaching sea.

The Department of Irrigation and Drainage (DID), under the Ministry of Natural Resources, Environment and Climate Change (NRECC), has spearheaded flood mitigation programs across the west coast since the early 2000s. Projects like the SMART Tunnel in Kuala Lumpur (a dual-purpose motorway and stormwater tunnel), hailed internationally as an innovation in urban flood control, reflect Malaysia’s technical capacity when political will aligns.

However, the success is selective. A 2021 audit by the Auditor-General’s Office revealed that of the 35 flood mitigation projects planned under the 11th Malaysia Plan (2016–2020), only 18 were completed on time, and many were located disproportionately in urban zones with high property values.

In East Malaysia, the situation is far bleaker. Sabah’s northern coast is experiencing relative sea-level rise at a rate of 7 mm per year—nearly double the global average—due to both global warming and localized subsidence, as noted by Universiti Malaysia Sabah’s Climate Research Institute. The district of Pitas has already seen at least six coastal villages undergo partial relocation due to encroaching tides, yet none of these communities have been officially recognized as “climate displaced” under federal law.

The plight of the Bajau Laut—nomadic sea peoples often rendered stateless—exemplifies the systemic neglect. Despite years of warnings from the Sabah Environmental Trust and WWF-Malaysia, there remains no targeted adaptation policy for indigenous coastal communities in East Malaysia. In fact, many such groups face eviction under marine conservation policies that prioritize tourism over climate resilience.

Malaysia’s National Adaptation Plan (NAP) 2021–2030 outlines climate-proofing infrastructure, enhancing coastal vegetation, and improving urban drainage systems. But the plan remains aspirational. As of 2023, less than 15% of the adaptation funding goals had been met, largely due to the fragmentation of responsibilities between state and federal agencies. The Malaysian Climate Action Council, chaired by the Prime Minister, has yet to define clear enforcement mechanisms or a national adaptation fund.

The federal Environmental Quality Act (1974) does not currently mandate climate risk assessments in coastal construction—a loophole that has allowed massive shoreline developments in places like Langkawi and Port Dickson without serious scrutiny. The recent approval of a China-backed reclamation project off Penang’s coast—dubbed the “Penang South Reclamation”—sparked protests from civil society and marine ecologists, who warn it could erase key mangrove ecosystems vital for flood buffering.

At the grassroots, NGOs such as EcoKnights and the Global Environment Centre are attempting to build coastal resilience through education and mangrove restoration but without stronger legal protections and real funding, these remain band-aids on an arterial wound.

Vietnam: Caught Between Export Economies and Drowning Deltas

Vietnam's Mekong Delta supports 17 million people and produces more than half of the country’s rice, but it is vanishing. According to Climate Central (2019), 31 million Vietnamese live in areas projected to be underwater by 2050 under moderate scenarios. Salinity intrusion already affects over 1.3 million hectares of agricultural land annually.

The Vietnamese government’s core initiative, the "Mekong Delta Integrated Regional Master Plan" (2021-2030), backed by the Ministry of Planning and Investment and supported by the Dutch government and the World Bank, aims to reduce rice production in favor of aquaculture and fruit crops. But implementation remains slow, hindered by provincial rivalries, underfunding, and bureaucratic inertia. Provincial leaders continue to push rice exports to maintain GDP growth and local patronage networks.

The Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development (MARD) has invested in concrete dike systems, but these often conflict with long-term ecological strategies like controlled flooding and sediment management. Environmental NGOs, including PanNature and GreenID, warn that hard infrastructure is deepening the delta’s ecological collapse.

Vietnam’s central contradiction lies in its political economy: the country remains heavily invested in extractive development models that are incompatible with the slow logic of ecological survival.

Indonesia: A Capital on Stilts, A Nation on the Edge

Jakarta is sinking at a catastrophic rate—as much as 25 cm per year in northern districts—due to over-extraction of groundwater and coastal subsidence. Meanwhile, sea levels in parts of Indonesia are rising at twice the global average. An estimated 200 million Indonesians live in coastal zones.

The Indonesian government’s headline solution has been the relocation of the capital to Nusantara, in East Kalimantan. While symbolically bold, the policy represents a retreat from Jakarta’s problems rather than a solution. The National Capital Integrated Coastal Development (NCICD) project, a $40 billion sea wall and reclamation scheme around Jakarta Bay, has been mired in delays and corruption probes, with major opposition from the Jakarta Environmental Agency and NGOs like WALHI.

Outside Java, adaptation efforts remain sporadic. The Ministry of Environment and Forestry’s "Climate Village Program" (ProKlim) exists largely on paper in many coastal areas. In the outer islands, such as Sulawesi and Papua, entire communities are already relocating without state support. There is no national policy framework for climate displacement.

Indonesia’s decentralization, while democratic, has led to fragmented and inconsistent adaptation efforts, with district governments often approving coastal development in mangrove and flood-prone zones.

Philippines: Vulnerability Without Capacity

The Philippines ranks among the most vulnerable countries globally, with sea levels rising nearly 60% faster than the global average. According to the Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA), sea levels in the Manila Bay area are rising at 5.7 mm per year.

Despite the passage of the Climate Change Act (2009), and the creation of the Climate Change Commission (CCC), local implementation is lacking. As of 2022, less than 10% of coastal municipalities had funded and executed their Local Climate Change Action Plans (LCCAPs), according to the Commission on Audit.

The DENR’s policy of approving large-scale land reclamation projects, including the controversial Manila Bay white sand beach, stands in stark contradiction to its disaster risk reduction commitments. Informal coastal settlements, home to millions, receive little to no support in relocation or adaptation planning.

Civil society organizations, such as the Center for Environmental Concerns and Kalikasan PNE, play a critical role in documenting and responding to climate-induced displacement. Yet the government has not developed any institutional mechanism to classify or assist climate migrants.

Thailand: A State Caught Between Concrete and Collapse

Bangkok is sinking 2-3 cm annually, and the Gulf of Thailand is rising by 4 mm per year. The Geo-Informatics and Space Technology Development Agency (GISTDA) warns that over 1.5 million people and $12 billion in assets are at risk in Bangkok alone.

The Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (BMA) launched the "Bangkok Master Plan on Climate Change 2013–2023," focusing on infrastructure such as pumping stations and retention basins. But a 2020 Thailand Development Research Institute (TDRI) report found that only 38% of flood defense targets were met.

The Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment (MONRE) promotes the Community-Based Disaster Risk Management (CBDRM) framework, yet only 11% of vulnerable communities have received any support, according to the Asian Disaster Preparedness Center (ADPC).

Meanwhile, the $45 billion Eastern Economic Corridor (EEC) prioritizes coastal industrial expansion, undermining climate goals. Land reclamation and sea wall construction, often carried out without proper environmental impact assessments, are accelerating erosion in provinces like Rayong and Chonburi.

Malaysia: Twin Shores, Uneven Futures

Peninsular Malaysia has invested heavily in adaptation—notably the SMART Tunnel in Kuala Lumpur and sea wall systems in Johor and Penang. However, East Malaysia—particularly Sabah’s northern coast—faces acute vulnerability. Sea levels there are rising at 7 mm annually, according to Universiti Malaysia Sabah.

The National Adaptation Plan 2021–2030, overseen by the Ministry of Natural Resources, Environment and Climate Change (NRECC), lays out ambitious goals, but lacks binding enforcement or a dedicated fund. Less than 15% of the Plan’s targets were funded by 2023.

In Sabah, indigenous communities such as the Bajau Laut are already being displaced. They remain excluded from federal adaptation policies. The Environmental Quality Act (1974) does not mandate climate risk assessments for coastal projects. Reclamation schemes, like the Penang South Reclamation (PSR), continue despite widespread protests from civil society and marine scientists.

NGOs like EcoKnights and the Global Environment Centre are leading local resilience efforts, but these remain marginal without structural support.

Cambodia: Silent Submergence

Cambodia’s coast, particularly in Koh Kong and Kampot, is increasingly exposed to sea-level rise. The Ministry of Water Resources and Meteorology (MOWRAM) has no dedicated sea-level rise monitoring program. According to the Asian Development Bank (ADB), over 435,000 Cambodians in coastal areas face elevated risk from flooding and salinization.

While the Cambodian Climate Change Strategic Plan (CCCSP) 2014–2023 outlines coastal adaptation, it remains donor-driven and inconsistently applied. Local authorities lack capacity and resources. Meanwhile, land reclamation and tourism development, often led by Chinese investors in Sihanoukville, are proceeding with minimal regulation.

The National Committee for Disaster Management (NCDM) has limited jurisdiction, and NGOs like Save Cambodia's Wildlife report rising displacement without coordinated state response.

Laos: Landlocked, But Not Immune

Although Laos lacks a coastline, it is deeply affected by the impacts of sea-level rise through the Mekong River system. Rising seas have increased salinity intrusion upstream, damaging agriculture in southern provinces like Champasak.

The Lao PDR Climate Change Action Plan (2021–2025), under the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment (MONRE), barely addresses downstream impacts of sea-level rise. Hydropower development continues unabated, often worsening downstream flooding and sediment starvation in Vietnam’s delta.

Coordination between Laos and Mekong River Commission (MRC) members remains poor, and China’s upstream dams further complicate adaptive water management.

Myanmar: A Climate Crisis in a Political Vacuum

Myanmar’s low-lying Irrawaddy Delta is acutely exposed to sea-level rise. The UN Environment Programme (UNEP) estimates that 2 million people are at risk of displacement. But the military coup of 2021 has rendered meaningful climate governance impossible.

Prior to the coup, the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Conservation had begun developing a Coastal Climate Resilience Strategy. That work has since stalled. International funding, including from the Green Climate Fund, has been frozen.

Local NGOs and civil society groups like the Myanmar Climate Change Alliance are severely constrained. Meanwhile, cyclone resilience infrastructure remains in poor condition, and fishing communities report rising salinity and storm surges with no state support.

Conclusion

Across ASEAN, rising sea levels are not just an environmental threat—they are a test of governance. The gap between policy and reality is starkest where elite interests override ecological foresight. A coordinated regional response, led by empowered institutions and supported by binding legal frameworks, is essential. Otherwise, the tide will not just wash away land, but trust in the ability of these states to protect their people.