Trouble in Paradise: The Increasing Suicide Rate of the Balinese

In the early 1900s, the Dutch sieged the island of Bali. The palaces of Denpasar, Tabanan, Klungkung and Badung retaliated in their own way. Faced with guns and advanced military personnel, the Balinese, with daggers and sharpened bamboo sticks in hand, killed themselves.[1] This is the Puputan. The ritualistic mass suicide the Balinese deployed as a response to Western invasion. To this very day, the Puputan is celebrated as resilience, dedication, and heroism.

Beneath the thin veil of the island of the gods, Bali has its own struggles that are gradually rising to the surface. In independent Indonesia, the island was tainted in blood once again as the state unalived suspected communists. The purge of 1965–66 claimed tens of thousands of Balinese lives.[2] Echoes of death seem to resurface once again in Bali. In 2023, 135 Balinese reportedly resorted to suicide, the highest recorded suicide rate in the country according to police reports.[3] Most are quick to attribute the increasing suicide rate to mental health issues that loom over many young adults in today’s world. This, however, is an anomaly. As the world pursues Bali to resolve their mental instability, the Balinese do not seek solace in the calm waves, the blue skies, the wafts of incense, nor the meditative mood of the island. It is as if the tourists come here to rid themselves of their problems, only for the locals to adopt them. The generations above forty, mostly Gen X and the Boomers, are often quick to dismiss the struggles of the young by reducing them to personal mental health problems, without pausing to look at the situation more holistically. It is always framed as “their problem,” not “our problem.” Millennials sit awkwardly in the middle. They understand the struggle, but are usually too caught up in their own battles to bridge the gap, or feel unsure about speaking up. And so the young, Gen Z and those after them, end up fending for themselves, while the older generations continue to label and dismiss. If this continues unchecked, the Balinese will quickly begin to be trampled over by the very juggernaut they created — the image of Bali. If you look closely, the Balinese identity is a web of interlocking influences. Most contemporary Balinese are descendants of Javanese who fled the conflicting kingdoms as the Sultanate grew stronger in the fifteenth century.[4] It was only around five hundred years ago when Dang Hyang Nirartha arrived on the island from Java, reformulating the Shaivism of the island and establishing most of the socio-religious systems in place today.[5] Balinese culture and landscape are not entirely unique, especially when compared to the surrounding islands. What differs is that Bali persists, while others have been lost to time. And this is not a coincidence.

In 1910, the Dutch colonizers implemented a conservationist policy known as the "Balinization of Bali" (Baliseering) to protect the island's unique culture from foreign influences and modernity, creating the “living museum” of Bali.[6] This was the birth of tourism in Bali. Quickly, tourism grew under the auspices of the Dutch, and later the Indonesian republic. A strategic campaign that changed Bali from isolated mystic farming villages, to a household name worldwide. As a religious studies scholar, I feel it is incomplete to speak about Bali without acknowledging the rebranding of the Balinese religion into a world religion in the 1950s. The Republic of Indonesia is a religious nation, and the Ministry of Religious Affairs allocates structure and funding only to the six officially recognized religions. Islam, Catholicism, and Protestant Christianity were already clearly defined traditions that stood together in the struggle for independence. Confucianism, practiced predominantly by Indonesians of Chinese descent, eventually received recognition after enduring long periods of discrimination against any expression of Sinitic culture. Hinduism and Buddhism, however, were required to reformulate themselves in order to secure formal acceptance from the state, reshaping themselves in the image of Abrahamic religions.

Despite their deep historical roots in the archipelago, these Dharmic traditions had to register themselves for formal recognition or face proselytization. Balinese Hinduism, already heavily intertwined with the indigenous religion, had to be homogenized to the international image of “Hinduism.” In doing so, the Balinese were required to adopt new mantras, creeds of faith, institutional religious structures, and even a monotheistic devotional orientation that had not existed in the same way before. Despite the many layers of adaptation, the Balinese continue to view their culture as the perdurable adat, as customs handed down from their ancestors, untainted by the world. In reality, what constitutes adat is always in flux. Offerings change. Prices change. Rules change. The world changes, and the island changes with it. Yet customs are still seen as the unshakable pivot of Balinese identity. This is what underpins the pressure of being Balinese — the obligation of customs and rituals that has been internalized, even though it depends on external forces such as the economy and politics.

Let us look at two examples of how customs can shape what is called the mental health crisis of the young. The first is the rising cost of offerings. Most people are unaware that offerings have only increased in complexity over the years. The intricacy of a ritual is meant to be adjusted according to the budget set aside by the devotee. In general, there are three levels: low, medium, and high. Yet even the simplest forms in the lowest tier have grown more elaborate, with more offerings required today than fifty years ago. This change is felt most clearly among Balinese who transmigrated to other parts of Indonesia in the 1980s. When they compare their Balinese Hindu rituals in transmigrant communities with those practiced in Bali today, theirs are far simpler and more adaptive.[7] The rising complexity of rituals in Bali is often explained as a way to express gratitude to the gods and ancestors for the economic prosperity of the island. As tourism expands, economic development follows, increasing what people feel they must allocate for religious sacrifice. However, prosperity is not evenly distributed. Many regions of Bali see little benefit from tourism, yet still face rising ceremonial demands. This has pushed many Balinese to take out loans to pay for rituals. Some sell land or burn through savings in the name of religion. The very rituals intended to bring peace and well-being, under the escalating standards of adat, have instead resulted in debt, pressure, and anxiety. The second example is marriage. With Hindu Bali rebranding itself as a universal religion, the ideals of social class (warna) and lineage (wangsa) have shifted. The social stratification system is no longer presented as a strict caste structure that determines access and opportunity. Adopting Neo-Hindu fantasies, caste is interpreted today as a matter of personal qualities and occupation rather than birth.[8] However, everything changes when a potential spouse is brought home. The young are often barred from marrying across social classes, fearing downward mobility or the tainting of family lineage. Heartbreak becomes a familiar story, with couples breaking apart in order to protect their family name. Many overlook the fact that the Hinduism of Bali remains, at its core, an ethnic religion rooted in kinship, relying heavily on one’s social class and birth.[9] Adat differs from one family to another, one village to another. For those of high birth, the system works in their favour. For those who can afford it, the system is tolerated. But for those without prestige or financial access, being Balinese can become a burden. Especially now, when deeply personal matters such as religion and marriage are dragged into the public sphere, no longer whispers but loud proclamations, dissected and displayed in village halls and temple festivals for all to judge. These two examples are by no means the only causes of the rising suicide rate. Depression, schizophrenia, and falling into debt — all common reasons for suicide on the island[10] — are not unique to Bali. The Balinese rely heavily on the social community to help curb these cases.[11] But what if the overexposure of the private to the public community itself is the very source of Balinese anguish? The public is seen as the solution for private problems, yet it is private matters themselves, such as one’s expression of faith and love, that are mercilessly placed under the scrutiny of public eyes. And this is where the pointing of fingers begins. The older generation insists it is the mental weakness of the young. The young argue it is the system imposed by the elders. This blame game has only accompanied rising suicide cases, as solutions are never sought, only the existing social structures endlessly criticised…

I would argue that the very nature of Balinese customs has changed. Their intentions, their meanings, and, very clearly, their costs have changed. Ceremonies that once guided internal transformation now serve as façades, displays for the living museum of Bali presented to tourists. What was once a ritual meant to cleanse the mind is now performed as a matter of religious bureaucracy. Adat is no longer a custom. It is now a brand. Becoming Balinese is no longer about connection and balance, it is about upholding the image of Bali. The systems put in place by the elders carry weight. However, the young are no longer able to bear this burden. The young see their private lives turned into content for social media, while the elders see ritual as a tool of social integration. Thus, the young are stripped of private space, both by their phones and by their parents. Private lives on social media and gossip echoing through village events have both become mere content for public satisfaction. There is no longer solace for the young as they watch their lives consumed by public affairs. The elders, who once sought solace in ritual and custom, now face a different dilemma. As rituals are commodified and temples become tourist attractions, the realms of spirituality now serve the political function of reinforcing Balinese identity. The island that once chose death over dishonour now faces a quieter tragedy. Suicide is no longer a collective act of resistance. Bali continues to present itself to the world as serene, spiritual, and harmonious, but beneath this polished surface lies a fracture that is widening. The burden of adat, the scrutiny of community, the expectations of ritual, and the commodification of culture have all tightened into a knot that the young no longer know how to untangle.

If Bali wishes to confront this crisis, it must first learn to listen. The courage once displayed on the fields of Puputan must be rediscovered — not in dying together, but in daring to speak honestly, to loosen the grip of tradition where it harms, and to rebuild community where it has fractured. It is said that Hindu Dharma adapts according to place (desa), time (kala) and circumstance (patra). For the sake of the living, Bali must adapt. Not to refurbish the image of Bali, but through compassion, humility, and the simple human right to breathe without the crowd watching. Only then can paradise belong not to the tourists who consume it, but to the Balinese who must endure it.

[1] Schulte Nordholt, H.G.C. The Spell of Power. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 01 Jan. 2010. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004253759 Web.

[2] Chant, Sharen. “Talking about 1965.” Inside Indonesia, 17 Oct. 2025, insideindonesia.org/archive/articles/talking-about-1965.

[3] NusaBali. “Tingkat Bunuh Diri di Bali Tertinggi se-Indonesia, Isu Kesehatan Mental Masih Tabu?” NusaBali, 2 July 2024, https://www.nusabali.com/berita/170469/tingkat-bunuh-diri-di-bali-tertinggi-se-indonesia-isu-kesehatan-mental-masih-tabu

[4] Vickers, Adrian. Bali: A Paradise Created. Tuttle Publishing, 2013.

[5] Suadnyana, I Wayan. Sejarah Perjalanan Danghyang Nirartha di Bali. Paramita, 2011.

[6] Picard, Michel. Bali: Cultural Tourism and Touristic Culture. Translated by Diana Darling, Archipelago, 1996.

[7] S, I Putu Hardiana, and Asmarita. “Perubahan Adat Perkawinan pada Masyarakat Transmigran Bali di Desa Morini Mulya Kecamatan Landono Kabupaten Konawe Selatan”. Etnoreflika: Jurnal Sosial dan Budaya, vol. 7, no. 1, Feb. 2018, pp. 49–57, https://doi.org/10.33772/etnoreflika.v7i1.541.

[8] Tim Penyusun. Hasil-Hasil Mahasabha VIII. Parisada Hindu Dharma Indonesia, 2001.

[9] Segara, I Nyoman Yoga, and Ravinjay Kuckreja. “The Social Stratification System in Forming a Balinese Identity.” Jurnal Kajian Bali (Journal of Bali Studies), vol. 14, no. 1, Apr. 2024, pp. 1–18. https://doi.org/10.24843/JKB.2024.v14.i01.p01.

[10] CNN Indonesia. “Tingkat Bunuh Diri di Bali Paling Tinggi se-Indonesia, Apa Sebabnya?” CNN Indonesia, 2 July 2024, https://www.cnnindonesia.com/gaya-hidup/20240702092451-255-1116545/tingkat-bunuh-diri-di-bali-paling-tinggi-se-indonesia-apa-sebabnya.

[11] Pos Bali. “Bunuh Diri di Bali: Fenomena, Faktor Risiko, dan Upaya Pencegahan.” PosBali.net, 26 Sept. 2025, https://www.posbali.net/opini/1426625330/bunuh-diri-di-bali-fenomena-faktor-risiko-dan-upaya-pencegahan?page=2#google_vignette.

Dr. Ravinjay Kuckreja is a scholar and lecturer of Hinduism and Buddhism. Originally from Jakarta and based in Bali for over a decade, he works as a cultural researcher and observer of religious and philosophical developments in the region.