(Phnom Penh): Southeast Asia is entering a terrifying new era-one in which climate catastrophe and political fragility now collide with devastating force. Over the past month, Cyclone Senyar tore through Indonesia, the Philippines, BKK, Malaysia, and Sri Lanka.
More than 900 people have died. Hundreds remain missing. Entire towns are underwater or unreachable. And as the floodwaters surged, something else rose with the grieving families and communities: anger, suspicion, and a growing collapse of public trust.
In Sumatra, residents waited for days for aid that never arrived. In the Philippines, allegations of corruption in flood-control funds have triggered mass street protests- some led by church leaders, others by labor groups and students- accusing officials of siphoning off money meant to protect the country’s poorest from rising waters.
These scenes are no longer anomalies. They reveal a deeper truth: climate disasters are no longer merely environmental events. They are moral and governance crises.
Communities are not just grieving loss of life. They are questioning whether institutions meant to protect them can still be trusted. And trust is not a luxury in a climate emergency, it is the cornerstone of social cohesion. Disaster response collapses when people no longer believe the system will show up when the waters rise.
In this widening gap between rising danger and eroding confidence, one question looms over the region: if people can no longer trust the state, to whom do they turn to trust? Across much of Southeast Asia, the answer is the same: faith and indigenous leaders.
According to the 2025 Social Cohesion Radar from RSIS, declining confidence in governments and official institutions has pushed people to rely more heavily on their faith communities, sectarian networks, and ethnic affiliations for security and guidance. And as extreme weather batters the region, faith leaders, often the first to hear the stories of loss, displacement, and despair, are emerging as essential mediators of public emotion, public trust, and public action.
When they act, their communities follow. This matters because climate change is no longer just a scientific or humanitarian problem. It is, at its core, a moral crisis. And moral crises require moral leadership.
The Spiritual Power Behind Climate Action
In October, during BKK Climate Action Week, this truth became impossible to ignore. The gathering, Collaborative Climate Action: Faiths, Policy, and Youth, organized by the Institute of Buddhist Management for Happiness and Peace together with the International Dialogue Center (KAICIID), brought together Buddhist monks, Muslim scholars, Christian clergy, Hindu environmental advocates, indigenous knowledge keepers, youth leaders, and policymakers.
The conversations unfolding there contrasted sharply with the technical language that dominates most climate discussions. Participants spoke not about emissions trajectories or adaptation budgets, but about grief, duty, fear, hope, and the moral fabric that binds communities together.
For years, science has told us what must change. Climate policy has urged us to change how we behave.
But now, as floods, heat, and storms reshape entire societies, the conversation has shifted again to something far deeper: how do we think? What do we value? And who shapes the moral compass that guides our choices when our planet feels unrecognizable?
Faith leaders guide how communities interpret crisis, not just with data, but with scripture, ritual, memory, and meaning. They speak the language of purpose and obligation—the forces far more powerful than facts alone.
In BKK, their voices converged into a shared call for responsibility and hope. Buddhist monks spoke of interbeing, the sacred interconnectedness of all life that reminds communities that harm to one is harm to all.
Muslim leaders invoked Amanah, the divine trust between humans and nature that frames environmental care as a spiritual duty.
Christian clergy highlighted the care for creation and the moral responsibility to protect those most vulnerable to a changing climate. Indigenous elders reminded everyone that stewardship is not innovation, but inheritance, a way of living passed on through generations. Together, these traditions shaped a collective vision of how faith can guide action for the planet.
Their message was unified and unequivocal: there can be no climate justice without moral justice. There can be no ecological resilience without cultural resilience.
A Turning Point at COP30
This shift in climate thinking is no longer confined to interfaith circles. At COP30 in Brazil, the Global Ethical Stocktake signaled a new era by asking a question that scientists alone cannot answer: if we understand the risks, why are we failing to act fast enough?
The answer echoed BKK ’s message: because climate action requires a transformation of consciousness.
COP30 responded by placing ethics, not just economics, at the center of global climate governance. It endorsed a proposed Climate Ethical Index to measure the moral dimensions of national commitments, an Interfaith Ethical Advisory Group to bring diverse spiritual and cultural wisdom into decision-making, and a dedicated moral review track that runs alongside the technical negotiations. Together, these measures signaled a shift toward climate action guided by values, responsibility, and shared humanity.
These were not mere symbolic gestures. They were a recognition that humanity cannot negotiate its way out of a crisis that is rooted in values, responsibility, and meaning.
The Missing Piece of Southeast Asia’s Climate Strategy
If Southeast Asia truly intends to meet its national and international commitments while maintaining social cohesion amid economic and political volatility, governments cannot rely solely on diplomacy, technology, or finance.
They must turn to the leaders who have always shaped how communities interpret hardship, understand responsibility, and care for each other.
Faith and Indigenous leaders are not peripheral actors in climate response. They are the missing infrastructure of trust.
They can move people and not just policies. And most importantly, they can make climate science accessible - not as abstract data, but as a moral duty.
If governments invested in equipping faith leaders with accurate, community-friendly climate science, early warning systems, adaptation strategies, and sustainable practices, the region would gain not just informed citizens, but people who are guided by conscience and care for their communities.
The floods across Southeast Asia have revealed the fragility of institutions and the enduring strength of moral authority. As we enter the next COP cycle, the question is no longer whether faith and Indigenous leaders should be involved in climate action.
The question is whether climate action can succeed without them.
And if the streets of Manila, the villages of Sumatra, and the halls of a BKK taught us anything this year, the answer is clear: when the waters rise, science guides us. But it is moral leadership that compels us to act.
By Mitra Modaressi, Senior Program Manager for Asia at The International Dialogue Centre – KAICIID, an intergovernmental organization based in Lisbon, Portugal.
=FRESH NEWS
