The smoke arrived before dawn, creeping through the streets of Palangkaraya like an unwelcome guest. By mid-morning, visibility had dropped to less than a hundred meters, and the acrid smell of burning peat — earthy, chemical, unmistakable — settled over Central Kalimantan's provincial capital like a shroud.

This is the pattern Indonesians have come to dread. When El Niño tightens its grip on the Pacific, the archipelago's vast peatlands dry out, transforming from waterlogged carbon sinks into landscapes primed to burn. And burn they do — sometimes for months, releasing plumes of haze that drift across Southeast Asia and pump greenhouse gases into an already warming atmosphere.

According to the New York Times, this year's El Niño event is shaping up to be particularly severe, raising fears that 2026 could join the grim roster of Indonesia's worst fire seasons alongside 1997, 2015, and 2019.

When Wetlands Become Tinderboxes

Peatlands are peculiar ecosystems — wetlands where dead plant material accumulates faster than it decomposes, forming thick layers of carbon-rich organic soil. Indonesia contains some of the world's largest tropical peatlands, particularly across Borneo and Sumatra, storing an estimated 57 billion tons of carbon.

Under normal conditions, these landscapes remain waterlogged and fire-resistant. But El Niño disrupts the typical monsoon patterns, bringing extended dry periods that lower water tables and expose the peat to air. Once dried, peat becomes extraordinarily flammable — and once ignited, nearly impossible to extinguish.

Unlike forest fires that race through treetops, peat fires smolder underground, sometimes burning for months. They're difficult to detect, harder to fight, and produce enormous quantities of smoke. During the catastrophic 2015 fire season, Indonesia's daily emissions briefly exceeded those of the entire United States economy.

The fires don't start themselves. Slash-and-burn agriculture remains common practice for land clearing, particularly among smallholder farmers and palm oil plantations. In wet years, these fires stay contained. In El Niño years, they escape.

A Familiar Catastrophe

Indonesians over a certain age remember 1997 with particular horror. That year's El Niño, combined with widespread land clearing, created a fire season so severe that haze blanketed the region for months. Singapore and Malaysia declared states of emergency. Respiratory illnesses spiked. An estimated 15 to 40 million hectares burned, though exact figures remain disputed.

The 2015 fires proved nearly as devastating, killing at least 19 people directly and causing an estimated 100,000 premature deaths from smoke-related illnesses, according to Harvard and Columbia researchers. The economic cost exceeded $16 billion. Schools closed across Sumatra and Kalimantan. Airlines canceled flights. The haze reached as far as southern Thailand.

Indonesia has made genuine progress since then. The government established a peat restoration agency, banned new permits for peatland development, and invested in early warning systems and firefighting capacity. Community-based fire prevention programs have shown promise in several provinces.

But the fundamental vulnerability remains. As long as drained peatlands exist and El Niño cycles continue, the risk persists.

This Year's Warning Signs

The current El Niño began developing earlier this year, and meteorological agencies have been tracking its intensification with concern. Rainfall across much of Indonesia has fallen significantly below normal levels since June. Water tables in key peatland areas have dropped to levels not seen since 2015.

Fire hotspots detected by satellite monitoring have been increasing steadily since July. While still below the peak counts from previous major fire years, the trajectory worries experts. The traditional fire season in Indonesia runs from July through October, meaning the worst may still lie ahead.

Local authorities in Central Kalimantan, Riau, and South Sumatra — provinces with extensive peatlands — have already declared fire emergencies in several districts. Firefighting teams have been deployed, and cloud-seeding operations have begun in some areas, though their effectiveness remains debatable.

The haze has already reached neighboring countries. Air quality in parts of Malaysia has deteriorated to unhealthy levels on several occasions in recent weeks. Singapore's National Environment Agency has issued advisories warning of potential haze episodes.

The Climate Feedback Loop

There's a cruel irony in peatland fires. The carbon released from burning peat contributes to climate change, which in turn may be making El Niño events more intense and unpredictable. Some climate models suggest that El Niño patterns could become more frequent or severe as global temperatures rise, though the science remains complex and uncertain.

What's clear is that each major fire season sets back Indonesia's climate commitments. The country has pledged to reduce emissions by 29 percent by 2030, or up to 41 percent with international support. Peatland fires can obliterate years of progress in a matter of weeks.

The ecological damage extends beyond carbon. Peatland fires destroy habitat for endangered species including orangutans, proboscis monkeys, and countless other species found nowhere else on Earth. The smoke affects human health across an area inhabited by hundreds of millions of people.

A Long Season Ahead

As August draws to a close, Indonesia faces the prospect of two more months of peak fire risk. Much depends on weather patterns that remain difficult to predict. Early rains could dampen the peatlands and reduce fire risk. A prolonged dry spell could spell disaster.

The government has mobilized resources, but fighting peat fires remains a formidable challenge. Water-bombing aircraft have limited effect on underground fires. Ground crews can dig firebreaks and pump water into burning peat, but the sheer scale of affected areas often overwhelms response capacity.

Prevention remains the most effective strategy — keeping the peatlands wet, enforcing burning bans, prosecuting violators. But enforcement is difficult across remote areas, and economic pressures remain intense. For smallholder farmers with few alternatives, burning remains the cheapest way to clear land.

The smoke drifting across Palangkaraya this morning carries a message that extends far beyond Central Kalimantan. It speaks to the fragility of ecosystems pushed to their limits, the cascading consequences of climate patterns amplified by human activity, and the stubborn persistence of practices that turn natural wealth into atmospheric carbon.

Indonesia's peatlands will burn again this year. The only question is how badly, and whether the lessons of previous catastrophes have been learned well enough to prevent another disaster.