Change & Future of the Mentawai
A Century of Disruption, Resistance, and Renewal
The arrival of outside powers in the Mentawai Islands brought changes far more disruptive than anything the communities had experienced through centuries of relative isolation. For most of their history, the Mentawai had lived with little interference from the outside world. Their social systems, spiritual practices, and forest-based subsistence evolved slowly, shaped almost entirely by their own needs and ecological relationships. That balance began to shift in the late nineteenth century.
The Mentawai Islands were formally incorporated into the Dutch East Indies in 1864. Early interactions were marked by resistance, especially against Dutch efforts at “pacification” and social control. Colonial administrators soon realized that attempts to reshape Mentawai life were difficult to enforce in an archipelago of remote forests and river valleys. By the early twentieth century, the Dutch adopted a more hands-off approach. They documented the Mentawai with a mixture of fascination and condescension, writing about “flower-adorned natives” and describing Siberut as “the island of happiness”, revealing more about colonial imagination than about the Mentawai themselves. Not long after came the first Protestant missionaries. Their approach differed sharply from the Dutch. Seeing Mentawai spirituality as superstition and their way of life as “lazy” or “underdeveloped”, they attempted to replace local belief with Christianity. Their writings describe the Mentawai as trapped in “the terror of evil”, reflecting deep cultural misunderstanding. The first missionary was killed, and for decades missionary influence remained limited. Even by the start of the Second World War, only a small minority of Mentawai had converted.
A far more profound rupture came after Indonesian independence. In the 1950s both Protestant and Catholic missionaries were active on the islands, and in 1954 the new Indonesian government issued a decree that prohibited so-called “animist religions”. All Mentawai were required to register as Christian or Muslim within three months. Those who refused faced pressure from officials and missionaries, and religious objects—talismanic bundles, ceremonial items, even heirlooms—were confiscated or burned. The decree struck directly at the heart of Mentawai spirituality and targeted kerei, the ritual specialists responsible for maintaining balance between the physical and spiritual worlds. Many were forced to abandon their practices. The effect was traumatic: a cultural system built over millennia was suddenly criminalized.
In the following decades, government programs sought to reshape Mentawai society even further. Policies aimed at “development” required families living in dispersed river valleys to relocate into new government-built villages. These settlements imposed single-family houses instead of uma longhouses, and villages were reorganized around churches, schools, and administrative posts. Traditional clothing, including loincloths and bark garments, was banned. Men were forbidden from growing long hair. Practices such as teeth-filing and tattooing — integral to identity, aesthetics, and spiritual well-being — were labeled primitive and prohibited. These measures were intended to replace “backward” ways with what the state defined as modern life. Over time, they disrupted long-standing systems of knowledge, kinship, and mobility.
By the 1980s the pressure on Mentawai culture was immense. Yet even in this difficult period, change was not one-directional. The policy of forced resettlement gradually eased, and there was growing recognition of the ecological importance of the islands. In 1981 UNESCO declared Siberut a Biosphere Reserve, highlighting its extraordinary biodiversity. Logging, once extensive and poorly monitored, came under closer scrutiny. Plans to convert parts of southern Siberut into oil palm plantations were halted in the early 1990s. In 1994 nearly half of Siberut was designated as a national park, supported by Indonesian authorities and local and international organizations.
Tourism began to develop slowly during this period. Although its impact has been mixed, it contributed to a renewed interest in Mentawai culture — both among visitors and among Mentawai themselves. Young people, seeing the value others placed on their traditions, began to reassess practices that had been discouraged or banned for decades. Rituals and ceremonies, once nearly eliminated, found new spaces for expression. The work of kerei, though practiced by fewer individuals, continued in pockets of resistance.
Despite these signs of revival, much damage had already been done. The number of Mentawai actively practicing traditional customs, rituals, and spiritual ceremonies had diminished drastically. By the late twentieth century, only a small number of clans — mostly in the Sarereiket and Sakuddei regions of southern and western Siberut — maintained continuous practice of Mentawai spirituality in its full form. Their perseverance has been crucial in keeping the knowledge alive.
Today, change remains ongoing. Indonesian law no longer bans Indigenous religions, and many Mentawai now openly honor their ancestral spirituality alongside newer influences. Community organizations, elders, and cultural advocates work to revive tattooing, ceremonies, ecological knowledge, and the role of the uma in communal life. The future is uncertain, but the determination to safeguard culture, territory, and identity has never disappeared.
The history of change in the Mentawai Islands is not only a story of loss — it is also a story of resilience. A people whose traditions survived millennia of isolation and decades of suppression continue to adapt, negotiate, and, where possible, revive what was nearly taken from them. Their future will depend, as always, on balance: between forest and development, modern pressures and ancestral knowledge, and the many worlds they navigate.