In DNA We Trust?

: Biolegal Governmentality and Illegal

Logging in Contemporary Indonesia

Arum Budiastuti

East Asian Science, Technology and Society: an International Journal, Volume

11, Number 1, March 2017, pp. 51-70 (Article)

Published by Duke University Press

For additional information about this article

https://muse.jhu.edu/article/648200

Access provided at 27 Mar 2020 06:47 GMT with no institutional affiliation

East Asian Science, Technology and Society: An International Journal (2017) 11:51–70
DOI 10.1215/18752160-3641422

In DNA We Trust?: Biolegal Governmentality and Illegal

Logging in Contemporary Indonesia

Arum Budiastuti

Received: 9 March 2015 / Accepted: 28 April 2016

q 2017 Ministry of Science and Technology, Taiwan

Abstract In this article the author scrutinizes the application of a novel genetic tech-
nology within the context of the timber industry in Indonesia, a country suffering
massive deforestation at the rate of 2.8 million hectares every year. It starts by pro-
viding a brief description of Doublehelix Tracking Technologies, the first timber
accreditation body that uses DNA testing to ensure that the timber procured is from
a “known” origin. The article also discusses the historical overview of the various
schemes of timber verification practices from the New Order era up to the present day,
providing the context in which the third-party verification technology emerges. Data
were sourced from public documents and interviews. Drawing on concepts of gov-
ernmentality and biolegality within Andrew Barry’s framework of “technological
society,” the author argues that Doublehelix constructs the sense and the importance
of DNA technology as “the best possible governor” of timber logging in Indonesia and
the problem of transnational timber smuggling. Moreover, the biolegal practice of the
technology is revealed in the way it challenges the existing definitions of legality/
illegality and constructs identities. Not only does it modify the governmental target
(from a set of practices to the materiality of timber), it also creates identities of the
timber, that is, which timber meets the criteria to be procured and which timber is of
“unknown” origin and subject to further surveillance.

Keywords biolegality
DNA profiling
governmentality
timber verification

system
trust

Acknowledgments I express my gratitude to Kane Race for the insightful comment on an earlier draft of
this article, which was partly taken from my dissertation at the School of Philosophical and Historical
Inquiry at the University of Sydney. I also acknowledge support from the Humanities, Science, and
Society Cluster at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, to present the paper at the International
Conference of Global STS in 2014. In addition, I wish to thank Sulfikar Amir from Nanyang Technological
University and three anonymous reviewers for the valuable and constructive feedback. All errors are
my own.

A. Budiastuti
Faculty of Humanities, Universitas Airlangga, Indonesia
e-mail: arumbudi@fib.unair.ac.id
52 A. Budiastuti

1 Introduction

Since 2000, there have been attempts to apply the novelty of DNA timber tracking
technology to curb timber smuggling and illegal logging, particularly in countries
experiencing a devastating loss of natural forests. Similar to the application of DNA
fingerprinting in human paternity tests, DNA timber technology employs scientific
evidence to prove the exact source or origin of each tree to confirm whether the chain
of custody (CoC) is intact (Doublehelix Tracking Technologies 2011).1 Despite the
increasing amount of research on the issue in the past five years, researchers seem to
focus more on the various techniques of DNA sampling and analysis or the technical
aspects of the technology (see, e.g., Jolivet and Degen 2012; Nowakowska et al. 2015)
rather than on the social aspects of the technology. Measuring the success of the
technology is achieved not only by overcoming the technical obstacles, but also by
assessing the factors surrounding the articulation of the technology.
In this article I address unexplored links between the DNA timber technology and
the dynamics of social, cultural, and historical contexts in which the technology is
positioned. Discussing the DNA timber technology proposed by Doublehelix Track-
ing Technologies (Doublehelix) in Indonesia, I examine the way a biotechnological
mode of governance challenges a nexus of definitions and practices in the timber
industry in the effort of setting a standard in the legal system of timber verification.
Indonesia also makes an interesting case study since the technology is not yet incor-
porated into the legal verification scheme, thus offering an initial understanding on
how a new biotechnological mode of governance might pave its way into the legal
system.
Technologies in the management of forestry’s primary targets of concern, that
is, people and forest or “men and things” (Foucault et al. 1991), have been explored
in quite abundant literature across various disciplines. Arun Agrawal (2005), for
example, specifically addresses the way environmental technologies produce environ-
mental subjects. In his study of the Kumaon forest in India he put emphasis on the way
statistics and numbers are used as governmental apparatuses. New labels were applied
to the forest and its subjects, striving to recognize the previously “unintelligible” to
gain better control and yield the villagers’ positive attitude toward the forest. In Indo-
nesia various governmental strategies have been applied for a range of different
purposes since the colonial era, such as territorial forest zoning and mapping and
the establishment of state forestry institutions (Li 1999). The establishment of state
territorial sovereignty over the forests in Indonesia (and most other Southeast Asian

1 Chain of custody is the trajectory of timber ownership and/or processing. It is specifically defined as “an

unbroken trail of accountability that ensures the physical security of samples, data and records” (Groves,
Miller, and Donovan 1997: 68). One common chain goes from forest/plantation (logs) to primary sawmill
(timber planks) to secondary sawmill (finished products) to importer/distributor to end buyer (customer). An
intact CoC means the timber products received by the end buyer is the very same timber/species harvested
in the plantation. It is a very critical point since there are cases of timber laundering or swapping different
species of timber at some points of production, mostly for economic purposes. CoC is commonly validated
using paper documentation, consisting of physical evidence (tagging or labelling the product) and an
auditable data recording that links to the evidence identifying each product. The DNA-based verification
system, different from the common CoC scheme, utilizes the uniqueness of the DNA sequence of each tree to
track timber movement along the supply chain, adding more confidence to the system, especially when the
process is done in countries where document forgery is a threat.
In DNA We Trust? 53

countries) not only revolutionized people’s lives and their relations to the forests, but
also created “new, almost inescapable means of imagining land, resources, and
people” (Peluso and Vandergeest 2001: 762). Forests are the state’s economic and
political resources and thus the technologies applied to govern the forests are the
state’s apparatuses, functioning to enhance its power.
The connection between state power and modes of governance has been theorized
notably by Michel Foucault in his notion of “biopolitics” and “governmentality.” The
art of government, or the so-called governmentality, revolves around the production of
truth in a form of procedures and methods of analysis aimed at discerning knowledge
of a subject population and acting on this knowledge to express and legitimate political
authority (Foucault et al. 1991: 102 – 03). This concept has opened up a space in which
to think about a certain historical formation of rule and discourse, which led to the
creation of “the individual,” “community,” and “society” as subjects and objects of
government (Barry 2007: 289). The concept of biolegality (Lynch and McNally 2009),
in particular, is developed from connecting post-Foucauldian concepts, that is, Paul
Rabinow’s biosociality and Nikolas Rose’s biocitizenship, to provide specific under-
standing on the way biotechnology is in ongoing conversation with the legal system in
the state’s practices of governance and surveillance. Governmentality, however, does
not always involve the government; it is more about a “mentality of government,” a
term introduced by Mitchell Dean (1999), in which “the focus is less on governmental
institutions and more on strategies and technologies of government” or “conduct of
conduct” (Isin 2000: 148). The focal point is thus on “the means of calculation, both
qualitative and quantitative . . . techniques and other means employed, the objects of
government and their conceptualization, the ends sought, and the outcomes and con-
sequences” (149). This conception of governmentality, together with biolegality, are
important in thinking about the way CertiSource/Doublehelix, a private body, formu-
lates forms of knowledge and calculations and develops and deploys strategies to
propose a certain “governing regime” to combat illegal logging in the timber industry
while continually adjusting its policies to the Indonesian legal system and the global
initiatives of good forest governance. Although at present the DNA technology has not
yet integrated into the Indonesian legality verification system, Doublehelix’s efforts in
creating open-source national and international genetic databases on forests, interact-
ing with the government and other stakeholders and constructing identities in the
process, are, I argue, an example of biolegality and governmentality worth further
scrutiny.
The interest in DNA technology to combat illegal logging in scientific research and
in practice indicates that contemporary society is preoccupied with technical means.
As Andrew Barry (2001) argues, government rationality today is concerned more with
technical matters and perceives governmental problems as having technical solutions.
In this case, it helps to make sense of the way DNA fingerprinting technology is seen as
a high-tech, state-of-the-art solution to the problem of illegal logging. In examining
Doublehelix’s biotechnological mode of governance, I am interested in exploring the
role of technology in the reconfiguration of governmental space or zone—an element
central to Barry’s discussion of technological society (2001). Space of government,
according to Barry, is not only defined by geographical or territorial boundaries but
also is related to “zones” formed through the circulation of technical practices and
devices. Practices of government “are as much oriented towards the problems of
54 A. Budiastuti

defending, connecting and reconstructing such technological spaces” (3). In other

words, zones are thus not a fixed structure, but are always in process, requiring adjust-
ment and reconfiguration or frequent maintenance work (40). One of the maintenance
elements to defend technological space, I contend, is creating and sustaining trust as a
governmental apparatus. The concept of trust is absent in Barry’s discussion of a
technological zone in relation to state and politics. In the case I present here, however,
the notion of trust (Giddens 1991; 1994) is useful in understanding how a new bio-
technological regime defends its space and gains legitimacy and authority in its goal
to be the “best possible governor” (Foucault et al. 1991: 87) of timber logging. More
important, the idea of technological space helps make sense of the way a new form of
biotechnology “negotiates” with the legal system and other spaces such as the social
and cultural aspects surrounding the articulation of the technology. The argument I put
forward in this study is that CertiSource/Doublehelix frames the technology as the best
possible governor of timber verification practice and a trustworthy institution different
from other verification schemes in Indonesia. I also suggest that the construction of the
technology as the best solution to illegal logging may set aside or gloss over some
problems that must be addressed in the effort to tackle illegal logging in the country.
Due to limited access to those actors and other constraints, however, for this article I
mostly relied on documents available to the public, such as CertiSource/Doublehelix
press releases, government regulations, and journal articles.2 To supplement the docu-
mentary analysis, I conducted several sessions of interviews with the company’s
representative in Indonesia to collect some information on the practices of the tech-
nology in the field.3

2 Exploring DNA Timber Technology

Doublehelix is a private certification body established in Singapore in 2008. Working

with suppliers, buyers, and retailers in over twenty countries as well as accreditation
schemes, governments, and scientific centers, Doublehelix provides audits of stan-
dards set by CertiSource, a timber accreditation scheme based in the UK. It was
CertiSource that conceptualized the DNA tracking technology in the first place, work-
ing with partners at the National University of Singapore and incorporating the
cutting-edge technology into its verification system. After consultation with global
environmental conservation organizations such as World Wildlife Fund and Green-
peace, CertiSource decided to separate the audit function (certification body) from the
certification standard (CertiSource), leading to the creation of Doublehelix (Double-

2 General descriptions about Doublehelix were taken from its websites (Doublehelix Tracking Technol-

ogies 2009, 2011, 2015), as was information about CertiSource, its partner company in the timber verifica-
tion scheme (CertiSource 2007, 2012, 2013). Specific data on the DNA tests were sourced from an article
published by Andrew Lowe and others (Lowe et al. 2010). Lowe is a plant conservation scientist at the
University of Adelaide who also serves as chief scientific officer at Doublehelix (University of Adelaide
2011).
3 Since some data are confidential, there are some technical aspects I do not explore in this article. I also use

my past experience working in the timber industry for about five years (2001–06) in East Java and Borneo.
In short, I have attempted to include as many sources as I could access to provide a sound analysis of the
technology and its biolegal articulation.
In DNA We Trust? 55

helix Tracking Technologies 2015). As a growing accreditation body, Doublehelix

continued its research and development activities, attracting more scientists to col-
laborate, and finally attained ISO/IEC 17065:2012 conformity assessment by the Joint
Accreditation System of Australia and New Zealand (JAS-ANZ).
Doublehelix had supported CertiSource with its DNA timber technology as an
essential part of the verification standard until 2011 when the DNA technology was
no longer mandatory. Due to the novelty of DNA timber technology, the test requires
it be conducted in research laboratories, not in service laboratories—a condition not
yet considered satisfactory by JAS-ANZ. Interested buyers or sawmills, however,
could still request the DNA testing provided by Doublehelix through the CertiSource
scheme or other accreditation systems.
In its press releases and media interviews, Doublehelix claims that the timber tests,
similar to human paternity tests, are the world’s first independent CoC verification that
employs scientific evidence to prove the exact source of each tree (CertiSource UK
2007; Doublehelix Tracking Technologies 2009). Unlike other timber verification
bodies, which rely on paper documentation to track timber movement along the supply
chain, Doublehelix uses the uniqueness of DNA sequence of each tree to do the work.
Taking the DNA samples from the logs/timber at the manufacturing site and then
matching them with those taken at the harvesting site, it wants to ensure that the timber
received by the end consumers is coming from known/legal sources and that it is the
very same timber processed in a mill before being delivered. In so doing, timber
manufacturers or processors will not have the chance to mix legal timber with illegal
timber—a practice quite common in the industry and easily done by forging or mani-
pulating the paperwork. Another expectation of the DNA technology in a wider con-
text, which is mostly cited in the media, is to reduce “timber trafficking” or “timber
laundering,” that is, the smuggling of timber out of Indonesia to countries like China
and Malaysia to obtain “legal” papers such as Certificate of Origin (Kato 2002).
Simply put, the technology does not allow timber manufacturers elsewhere to claim
the timber to be of their country of origin when selling it to buyers in the United States
and Australia, for example. By bringing “transparency” to every stage of wood own-
ership and processing, the technology is expected to cut off the chain of irresponsible
timber procurement from Indonesia, a country suffering from massive deforestation at
the rate of 2.8 million hectares each year (Australian Institute of Criminology 2008).
Three services provided by Doublehelix include population genetics, DNA finger-
printing, and DNA barcoding (Doublehelix Tracking Technologies 2011: 8). The first
is concerned with the study of genetic variation across distance. In other words, the test
helps to determine whether the timber is harvested from the declared country or region
and whether the timber comes from natural forest or a plantation. The second type,
DNA fingerprinting, ensures that the timber/finished product comes from a specific
log or stump or that the CoC is intact; it works in the same way as identifying human
paternity or criminals. Lastly, DNA barcoding, a taxonomic method, helps to identify
whether the timber is of the declared species or whether the timber is listed in CITES
(the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species). Of the three services,
DNA fingerprinting is the most commonly employed in timber verification, which is
an additional service in CertiSource’s CoC system.
For use in Indonesia, CertiSource incorporates its standard with SVLK (Standard
Verifikasi Legalitas Kayu), the official Indonesian timber legality verification stan-
56 A. Budiastuti

dard mandatory to all timber exporters since early 2010. SVLK was established to
make sure that the supply chain is more reliable as it tracks the movement of timber in
every stage of production using a more detailed paperwork (Obidzinski et al. 2014).
Similar to SVLK, CertiSource strives to cover principles of legality more compre-
hensively. It requires proper administration of a timber company’s legal right to
harvest, approved planning authorization and operations, payment of relevant fees
and taxes, legal registration, and transport and trade, as well as fulfilment of harvesting
and environmental and social regulations. In a regular audit system in Indonesia,
Doublehelix will first assess the source of timber or the forest concession as to whether
it meets the requirements set in the standard (CertiSource UK 2012: 5). After the
concession is verified as legal, Doublehelix then applies its CoC documentation along
the production stages to ensure that the end products indeed come from the verified
concession logs. Seen in these terms, the CertiSource standard is more or less the same
as SVLK’s. The difference, as CertiSource suggests, is its ability to verify the legality
of every batch of timber, making it more cost effective (CertiSource UK 2012: 5).
Another difference from other verification systems is its DNA fingerprinting tech-
nology. A typical DNA fingerprinting protocol usually starts from the harvesting site
(Lowe et al. 2010). Wood samples from a minimum of 96 percent of all logs of an
individual batch are collected at the concession area following Doublehelix guidelines
to maintain freshness of the samples and minimize moisture content by using sealed
bags and silica gel desiccants.4 A maximum of fifty samples can be put in one bag,
which is then sealed with a security ID or code. Another set of samples is randomly
taken at any critical control point along the supply chain at the manufacturing site
using the same collection method. The samples are then sent out to main partner
laboratories, the University of Adelaide in Australia and Thünen Institute of Forest
Genetics in Germany, for DNA analysis (personal communication, Doublehelix office
manager, Indonesia, 17 September 2015). In those facilities genomic DNA was
extracted from the samples using the cetyltrimethyl ammonium bromide (CTAB)
method and used to amplify fourteen microsatellite loci (see Lowe et al. 2010 for
a detailed process of the DNA extraction). The outcomes of the DNA tests on the
samples taken from different sites are then matched. Finally, the results of the DNA
extraction and matching are reported independently along with a statement on the
statistical significance to be included in the audit report. In the case of a failed DNA
test, Doublehelix will investigate the possibility of a CoC breakdown. A broken CoC
means that some timber in the batch does not “legally” belong to the group. There is a
possibility that the timber was swapped at some point of production. A Corrective
Action Request (CAR) can be issued to the auditee according to the policy standards
(see the complete policies in CertiSource UK 2013).
The procedure shows that calculability is an important aspect in determining the
success of the technology. Calculability is rendered necessary in an effective govern-
mental regime. Some scholars describe governmentality as “action in distance” (e.g.,
Rose and Miller 1992) to explain the links between calculations at one place and
actions in another. In this case, the calculations involve the DNA analysis process

4 A batch is usually defined as a known volume of logs originating from the same source (CertiSource UK

2013) with a varying number of timber in each batch.

In DNA We Trust? 57

in some laboratories and the formulation of procedures in Doublehelix’s office in

Singapore, producing the knowledge to govern logging practices in Indonesia as
well as identities resulting in the process. The verified woods will then be stamped
as “verified legal” in CertiSource’s system and ready to be shipped to the buyers. The
other groups, which do not match the samples in the timber database, become objects
of surveillance and hence the subjects of suspicion, labeled as timber coming from
“unknown” sources. What happens next to such timber will entirely depend on the
result of the CAR and, of course, the auditee.

3 Timber Legality

After the rise of Indonesia’s New Order regime in the late 1960s, Indonesian forests—
comprising three-quarters of the archipelago—were imagined as promising resources
to accumulate capital in order to build infrastructure in the country. President Suharto
believed that the forests should be “put into better use” (Ross 2004: 157). Driven by
this economic motive, the New Order authoritarian government established a host of
forest institutions predominantly controlled by Suharto’s relatives and allies from his
military circle to exploit the forests and gain revenues. Indonesia’s timber boom in the
early 1970s was influenced by the government’s policy to reduce the cost of cutting
and timber export, attracting foreign investors (Ascher 1998). Under Suharto’s lead-
ership, institutional power was centralized in his hands, leading to strong a patronage
culture during his presidency, in which rent-seekers accrued wealth. Using his yaya-
san (charitable foundation) as a conduit of patronage, Suharto collected funds from
corporate donations, military contributions, and businesses built on government
licenses, including those in timber (Ross 2004: 162). It is not surprising to find that
Suharto’s close friends and relatives owned the majority of timber concessions in
Indonesia.
After the collapse of the New Order, decentralization was widely implemented,
which gave more power and authority to district governments, based on Act no. 22 of
1999 followed by Act no. 25 and the subsequent changes. Shortly afterward, Forestry
Act no. 41 of 1999 was issued, regulating all aspects of forest management and
conservation. Wandojo Siswanto and Wahjudi Wardojo (2005: 142) listed a number
of problems soon after decentralization was adopted in the forest sector. First, there
were different understandings of the term decentralization between the local gov-
ernment agencies and the central government, leading to confusion in identifying
parties responsible for forest management. In addition, there were many timber-cutting
licenses issued without proper consideration because the local authorities perceived
the forest merely as resources to generate revenues for local development. Lack of
accountability and transparency in managing forest resources were other factors.
It was during this democratization era that the issue of illegal logging in Indonesia
surfaced. Some researchers argue that illegal logging was due to an increase of inter-
national demand for timber that was much higher than the local supply (e.g., Palmer
2001), while others blame weak policy in the Indonesian government (e.g., Smith et al.
2007) or a mix of these problems (Tacconi 2007). The political ferment marking the
transitional period in Indonesia, from the authoritarian regime (the New Order) to a
democratic system (late 1998 onward), is frequently cited as creating a perfect envion-
58 A. Budiastuti

ment for the birth of “premature” decrees later used by politicians and businessmen to
clear more lands and native forests for the expansion of palm plantations and coal
mining (see, e.g., Geist and Lambin 2002). Poverty and corruption are also mentioned
as adding to the critical situation (Schloenhardt 2008). Despite the Forestry Ministry’s
strong commitment to handling this complex issue of the forestry sector by perpetually
adapting forestry laws and regulations, which has resulted in positive changes in the
timber legality verification system throughout the years, illegal logging remains ram-
pant in many parts of Indonesia.
To understand how the problem of illegal logging in Indonesia has been addressed
by a technological solution, Barry’s concept of technological society is applied.
Living in a technological society, according to Barry, is characterized by “the extent
that specific technologies dominate our sense of the kinds of problems that govern-
ment and politics must address, and the solutions that we must adopt” (2001: 2).
Technical change, Barry continues, is thus the main characteristic of a technological
society.5 Technology is often said to be the solution to human problems. Strong
proponents of this technological fix believe that “society’s problems will be solved
if we only choose the right technology” (e.g., Dyson 2009: 6). Yet there are important
questions unanswered: On which criteria is technology considered the right solution,
and who set them? In the case of timber verification technologies in Indonesia, the
fact that a new timber verification technology has been proposed because the previous
one has apparently failed to solve the problem begs more questions: How and why
does this happen? What makes a certain technology favored over others? Why does a
certain technology fail? How adequate is the diagnosis of the problem that leads to the
creation of the technology as a solution?
As technology is increasingly associated with the state and industry, scholars
suggest that technology is instead a product of social relations (e.g., Bijker 1999). A
technical artifact is thus chosen not because it simply works better but because of
the social actors behind the decision. The subsequent researchers adopting this
approach have also shown how these actors contribute to the success of a technology
by, for example, constructing narratives for garnering political support (Dawson and
Buchanan 2005). Technological innovators, government officials, and timber buyers
or sellers each have their own ways of interpreting the technology. They also have their
own narratives or discourse in negotiating its criteria of functionality and other actions
to give shape to the technology. I maintain that these narratives are worth further
scrutiny as they may suggest the narrator’s ways of seeing and perceiving—the first
aspect to discuss in an analysis of government (Isin 2000: 150, my emphasis). In this
case, the problem constructed through the narratives or discourses informing timber
verification technologies revolves around the term legality, including that proposed by
DNA timber technology as the basis of its governmental regime.
The term legality within the field of timber logging has not been easy to define.
According to the basic and widely accepted conception, illegal logging is “harvesting
of logs in contravention to formal laws and regulations” (Hidayat 2007: 76). Yet in
practice, a “legal” product sold in one country could be sourced by illegal activity

5 The term technological society can be traced back to Jacques Ellul (1964), who emphasized the way
society is mediated and driven by technology.
In DNA We Trust? 59

elsewhere (e.g., smuggling stolen timber out of Indonesia to countries like China and
Malaysia to obtain “legal” papers such as Certificate of Origin). In Indonesia, specifi-
cally, the definition alone was not sufficient, due to the complexity of lawful practices
in the country. During the New Order authoritarian rule (1966 – 1998) the concept of
legal/illegal was subject to question as the law did not recognize the customary rights
of indigenous or adat people living in the forest areas and made them trespassers on
their own lands (Colfer and Resosudarmo 2002). Under the Basic Agrarian Law of
1960, their rights were only recognized as long as they did not conflict with “national
interest” (Ross 2004: 165). Conversely, the harvesting practices considered legal by
the government were regarded illegal by these adat communities, as the customary
law did not allow such a massive harvesting in the name of “development.”
In the timber market, by contrast, the definition of legality is usually not much
disputed as long as both the sellers and the buyers possess all the legal documents
needed. It is interesting to note that legality comes down to property of the wood rather
than a set of practices in this model. Many business players were not fussy about
timber legality or did not bother to spend their time investigating where the timber
came from or the legal practice behind the procurement. The different understandings
of legality and illegality are unsurprisingly presumed to be the source of the “unin-
telligibility” of illegal logging and are often considered the main reason to revisit and
propose a working definition of legal/illegal logging. There have been a few changes
of verification schemes introduced after the overthrow of the Suharto regime. What is
interesting about attending to the meaning of legality in this case is that a definition
may serve as an entry point and a crucial element in introducing a new timber ver-
ification regime. In the following historical overview of timber verification practices
in Indonesia, we shall see how each regime locks in a particular meaning of legality,
and attaches it to its function.
Until late 2003 legal timber meant all timber accompanied by SKSHH (Surat
Keterangan Sah Hasil Hutan, Legal Forest Product Transportation Permit)—a three-
fold document stating the species, quantity, place of origin, and processing factory of
the timber sold. Only one set of documents was needed as the legality verification
required in the timber trade. Having this set of documents meant that the exporter or
the manufacturer had fulfilled all the legal requirements in relation to tax and other
forestry-related fees and was thus permitted to sell the timber. Due to their importance,
unfortunately, the documents were highly susceptible to abuse or misuse. This simple
structural procedure allowed some business players to whitewash their illegal timber
by bribing state officers or by forging the documents. Although there were some
attempts by the government to reduce their “forgeability,” for example by introducing
a new serial number or using “technologized” paper as that of currency (Kaltim Post
Group 2004), such cases are still commonly found and are said to exacerbate the
problem of illegal logging in Indonesia (Donovan 2010).
Due to the increasing pressure from NGOs and international communities regard-
ing the alarming rate of deforestation in Indonesia, there were efforts to revisit the
definition of legality and current logging practices. After a series of bilateral discus-
sions under the EU Forest Law Enforcement, Governance, and Trade (FLEGT) Action
Plan, a draft of a legality standard was formulated and agreed on as the basis of timber
trade control between producing and purchasing countries (Obidzinski et al. 2014: 24).
This new draft, which also included recognition of the rights of local communities as
60 A. Budiastuti

well as the social and environmental responsibilities of the timber trade, was then
adopted in Indonesia and was viewed as the beginning of a new configuration of
elements constituting timber verification. Following this, a new regime of verification
has been in force since October 2003. The government has obliged Indonesian timber
exporters to register for a new license: the ETPIK (Eksportir Terdaftar Produk Industri
Kehutanan, Registered Forest Industry Product Exporters). Simply put, SKSHH was
no longer the only determinant of timber legality. To receive the certificate, a company
must join BRIK (Badan Revitalisasi Industri Kehutanan, a government bureau spe-
cially designed to revitalize the forest industry) at no cost and provide SKSHH docu-
ments as well as reports on their stock, production, and export planning to the bureau.
In theory, this system enables BRIK to audit forestry companies involved in timber
export trade by checking the total quantity of processed timber and the quantity of
annual allowable harvest. The bureau also conducts inspections to identify any occur-
rence of illegal logging (Down to Earth 2004). While the system is a step toward
controlling the timber consumed by Indonesia’s exporters, its implementation raised
other issues. The slow processing of BRIK endorsement was considered as hampering
the export process and causing delays. In addition, the high figure for the wastage
calculation system used by the bureau allowed some license holders to secretly con-
sume up to one-third more timber than officially reported (Down to Earth 2004).
Another issue is related to the SKSHH, which was still used as the transport permit
for the timber sold. As the document is issued by the Department of Forestry, BRIK
literally has no control on its issuance. It is thus not surprising that many people were
skeptical about the ETPIK certificate being a verification mechanism in a context of
increasing demand and questions of sustainability.
The above narratives accentuate the fact that the government’s attempts to solve the
problem of illegal logging are based on a technological imperative. Although subject
to criticism, technologically determinist understandings play an increasingly impor-
tant role in political discourse (Wajcman 2002: 348). In this case, the government
obviously does not want to be perceived as helpless, especially when the country has
been “red-taped” for illegal logging issues. The introduction of various technologies is
the major strategy in gaining national and international trust, creating a precedent of
good forestry governance and eventually building a good reputation for Indonesian
forestry.
The apparent failure of the previous schemes, however, underlines another aspect
perhaps left unnoticed: the technology has transformed the patterns of relationships
and roles of the people involved, or in Bruno Latour’s (2000) words, it “impinges”
back on humans. After the technological change, the whole “constellation” seemed to
be reconfigured. In my experience, there were more papers to do, more procedures to
follow, and more connections to make. In addition, the fact that SKSHH was no longer
the main determinant of legality seemed to “alienate” the Department of Forestry
people in such a way that they felt themselves to be the “villains,” especially when the
change was introduced mostly to reduce cases of SKSHH forgery. With all these
factors, it is thus not surprising to find that some people respond by “challenging”
the technology and finding justifications for their actions.
Failures and uncertainties of technical regulation, however, do not necessarily give
rise to a crisis of legitimation (Barry 2001: 47). With better measurement and calcu-
lation, they can be used as a basis of formulating better regulation. The search for
In DNA We Trust? 61

alternative (and better) verification schemes in Indonesia actually started in the 1990s,
and, interestingly, they came from the timber industry sector. The introduction of the
FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) and the LEI (Lembaga Ekolabel Indonesia, the
Indonesian Ecolabelling Institute) demanded by some critical timber importer coun-
tries was seen as satisfying the need to have a “neutral” third party to verify their
products, in addition to the existing government verification scheme. The choice is
not without reason. Third-party verification bodies adopt standardized legality guide-
lines, usually that of the World Wildlife Fund, and represent a wide range of private
communities (ranging from timber industry players to local forest communities).
Having more “reliable” legality definitions and protocols, these institutions are said
to offer a more comprehensive scheme for sustainable forest resource management
(Elliot 2000).
The fact that certified forest products are better valued in the timber market leads to
the growing popularity of these certification bodies.6 As a result, new providers start
to come, offering more choices in verification services. The example I explore in this
article, Doublehelix, was initially developed to cater to the need of some timber
importers to improve their market value (CertiSource UK 2007), and in its current
development it has extended the service for sawmills and timber manufacturers as
well. CertiSource finds its own niche in the timber certification market, CoC verifica-
tion service. Before SVLK was enacted, CertiSourse incorporated a number of legality
standards in forest certification schemes, such as Smartwood and LEI, for its general
guidelines for use in Indonesia. At the time of writing, CertiSource has updated its
standard by attuning to the newest Indonesian legal standard, SVLK, and claims to
be the most comprehensive and representative scheme for the Indonesian context. It
also gains market differentiation value for its DNA technology, ensuring potential
customers that DNA cannot be forged, unlike paperwork, and thus positions itself as
the solution to the problem of illegal logging in the country and elsewhere.
The trajectory of timber verification from the Old Order era up to the DNA-based
verification technology highlights an important shift of governmental target: from
practice (the activity of timber logging) to substance (the materiality of timber). In
DNA-based verification technology, the material becomes the basis in proposing
a certain technique of government in its attempt to be the best possible governor
(Foucault et al. 1991: 87). In other words, the DNA timber becomes a new knowledge
apparatus in Indonesia, where regulation in practice seems to fail. The problem con-
structed here is that paperwork does not work in the Indonesian context, or if it does
it should not be used alone. The DNA is thus the solution as it has strong potential to
tackle what has become the issue. This gave rise to a new government rationality,

6 The emergence and sustenance of third-party verification schemes, however, cannot be reduced to one

causal factor, that is, the demand of concerned timber importers. There are other contributing factors. In the
study of the “greening” practice of the World Bank, Goldman (2001) demonstrates how the World Bank
“forces” some borrowing countries to perform green programs, such as reforestation and sustainable forest
management, in order to continue receiving support. In this case, the government may have an influential
role in supporting the implementation of private verification schemes such as FSC and LEI, which are
considered good efforts toward sustainability. There is also a growing legal recognition among importing
countries, for instance the US Lacey Act, which strictly demands its importers to have product certification
stating its origin. These discourses show that consumers’ demand for verification not only emerges from
“conscience” but may be constructed or situated as well.
62 A. Budiastuti

which is central to the way Doublehelix attempts to become a biotechnological mode

of governance.

4 Governmental Strategies of DNA Timber Technology

Doublehelix has tried to establish itself as one of the promising timber verification
schemes, with DNA technology as its knowledge apparatus. This kind of technologi-
cal narrative, or what Rouse (1992) calls “the local and discursive character of scien-
tific practice,” is worth considering in the attempt to make sense of how scientific
knowledge is shaped—a process that later determines the sense and importance of a
technology as a solution. Besides focusing on specific complexes of instruments and
specialized materials, and the skills and techniques utilized in the governmentality,
social/cultural theorists should also focus on “the particularity of networks of scien-
tific communication and exchange which shape both what needs to be said and what
vocabulary and technical resources can be appropriately utilized” (Rouse 1992: 6).
Studying a governmental regime, to put it another way, is also to pay attention to its
“definite vocabularies and procedures for the production of knowledge” (Isin 2000:
150). This epistemological inquiry will provide a critical insight to make sense of the
way Doublehelix develops and deploys strategies to propose a certain governmental
regime in timber logging practice. In what follows, I will demonstrate how Double-
helix constructs an aura of trust through its strategies and public information to be
perceived as a trustworthy institution as it indicates key characteristics of trust: accu-
racy, reliability, independence, inclusivity, and transparency. I also suggest later that
the construction of the technology as the best solution to illegal logging sets aside or
glosses over some problems crucial in the effort to tackle illegal logging in Indonesia.
Trust is important in gaining legitimacy where there is “a calculative attitude to the
open possibilities of action, positive and negative, with which . . . we are confronted in
a continuous way” (Giddens 1991: 28). In the current climate of ecological crisis, the
Indonesian government and timber players are always faced with risky decision mak-
ing in their every action. Any decision they make could elicit both trust and distrust
from the society. As John Thompson posits, today’s visibility through the media and
any other means of communication has made social relations inevitably based on some
forms of trust (2005: 46). Trust predisposes assumptions about character (reliability,
good intentions) and technical competence (quality, skills, knowledge) of an actor or a
system of action. To gain legitimacy and authority, trust therefore needs to be actively
sustained or won (Giddens 1994: 186).
There have been a number of changes made regarding timber management after the
forest administrative reformation in 2007. On the one hand, the government wants to
be perceived as credible and responsible, perpetually adjusting their policy to accom-
modate the current trends in timber management. On the other hand, the changes
might have counterproductive consequences as they may deepen public distrust
since there is a risk that the procedures will only create further levels of bureaucracy
and inefficiency. In such a period of uncertainty, the government’s purpose of gaining
legitimacy may fall short of expectation. Conversely, such uncertainty may give an
opportunity for CertiSource/Doublehelix, an alternative mode of timber logging gov-
ernance, as it offers a simpler method and documentation of timber verification.
In DNA We Trust? 63

There are some strategies deployed by CertiSource/Doublehelix in attuning to the

changing Indonesian legal system, one of which is continually updating its standard
policy, guidelines, and indicators. Legality criteria and indicators can be considered a
potential governmental technology. Indicators are a specific way of providing infor-
mation, which is “itself a way of acting upon the real, a way of devising techniques for
inscribing it in such a way as to make the domain in question susceptible to evaluation,
calculation and intervention” (Rydin 2007: 612). Indicators not only provide infor-
mation, they also are a means of measuring performance over time or space. In this way,
the behavior of actors is controlled and monitored “at a distance.” CertiSource’s
legality criteria and indicators are used as the technical guidance for implementing
the verification technology in the field. While CertiSource’s guiding principles were
adopted from standards developed by a number of forest certification initiatives, such
as the World Wildlife Fund, LEI, and Smartwood (Rainforest Alliance), the officially
approved Indonesian standard of timber legality (SVLK) is used as the core indicator
and system of verification (CertiSource UK 2013: 6 – 8). It can be suggested that
CertiSource/Doublehelix attempts to be local, despite the fact that it is a foreign
agency, unlike LEI which is locally owned. It is important to be familiar, sharing
values and beliefs, in order to introduce “truth” and gain authority (Giddens 1994).
Here the “locality” embedded in CertiSource’s criteria and indicators is useful to attain
trust from both its potential foreign customers and their suppliers, the Indonesian
timber companies where they implement the verification procedures.
The locality, however, may invoke a “different kind of trust” from these two
different actors. To Indonesian timber companies, it may provide them a feeling of
familiarity since CertiSource is not entirely foreign. Foreignness, as far as I observe, is
not favored by some local and small businesses partly because it is often equated with
exclusivity. The fact that CertiSource is “willing” to adopt SVLK’s legality criteria
may thus be seen as a form of flexibility or good intention to share the local values. To
the foreign buyers, the locality becomes an additional assurance of the scientific
quality in penetrating the “unfamiliar.” Local knowledge or mastery of local situations
is highly valued in this case, owing to the notoriety of corruption/bribery that somehow
discourages some foreign businesses to invest or work with Indonesian companies.
Hence, the rhetoric of inclusivity and the confidence shown in Doublehelix’s previous
brochure, “we know the timber industry, we understand the challenges of timber
certification” (2009), and the ones in CertiSource’s FAQ document, “Pricing is
simple, cheap, transparent and empowering; there are no membership fees or hidden
costs” (2012: 6), are strategically utilized in its attempt to narrate and situate the
knowledge proposed in its scheme.
In the “negotiation” with the legal system, moreover, CertiSource/Doublehelix
may have stronger bargaining power in this case as it has the tool, the DNA testing
technology, to spot any endeavor of document abuse, as it explicitly maintains in
CertiSource’s FAQ document for sawmills and manufacturers: “this system acts as an
additional tool to detect document fraud, deterring illegal practices, increasing the
credibility of the supply chain and lowering the overall cost of timber certification”
(CertiSource 2012b: 8). If Doublehelix successfully catches such attempt, it is through
this kind of event that the DNA technology will gain legitimacy and trust from its
foreign customers, but at the same time it may (re)enforce the narrative about “delin-
quent” Indonesian timber companies and the weak government timber administrative
64 A. Budiastuti

scheme in managing illegal logging, further subjectifying these “untrustworthy” bod-

ies. In addition, it is also interesting to note that the narrative quoted above is only
found in the FAQ document for producers and is not available in that for buyers. It may
be thus interpreted that the narrative functions as a “warning” to sawmills/producers to
comply diligently, or else.
Another strategy to strengthen the credibility of the DNA timber technology is pre-
senting success stories. On its webpage, www.doublehelixtracking.com/news/, and its
weblog, naturesbarcode.squarespace.com, Doublehelix presents stories of how its
genetic technology successfully proves authenticity of a five-hundred-year-old medi-
eval, royal oak bed frame, and other success stories. These kinds of narratives are the
so-called “self-legitimizing discourses” (Giddens 1994: 189). Besides Doublehelix’s
function to reassure the competence of the technology, it also helps gain authority
since “trust based purely on the assumption of technical competence is revisable for
much the same reasons as knowledge purchased through methodical scepticism”
(Giddens 1994: 189). It is thus not surprising to find similar discourses in its press
releases and media coverage.
Specializing in CoC verification is another tactic of gaining trust and legitimacy.
With its DNA application Doublehelix promises greater transparency—a discourse
that always appears in its press releases and marketing devices. Since many logs sold
in the market are of unknown origin, CoC is considered important for timber con-
sumers wanting to be sure that the timber they procure is derived from legal, known
sources. Unlike the paper-based CoC system, the DNA-based one has an additional
practical function: to prevent any chance of timber mixing enabled by forged doc-
umentations or to expose it if any occurrence is found. Not only does “transparency”
refer to the apparent movement of timber from the source to the end consumer, it also
means clarity inside the process, which can reveal any kind of illicit activity. This
may epitomize a popular metaphor used, from Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Joseph
Stiglitz, in referring to transparency: the sunlight metaphor, that “sunlight is the
most powerful of all disinfectants” (Hood and Heald 2006: 40). The DNA technology
has the potential to eliminate “diseases” in the industry. With all the qualities it offers,
the DNA-based CoC system can convince its users that it is the best possible guard-
ian, acting as a central point of knowledge—the basic ingredient of trust (Giddens
1991: 82).
While the technology establishes itself as a trustworthy body and recognizes tim-
bers of “known origin” via DNA tests as “statistical innocents,” it also creates untrust-
worthy “suspects” through its transparency system, for example timbers coming from
“unknown” sources in a timber auction. Illegal timber caught by the government could
end up in auctions held by Perhutani, the forestry parastatal.7 The status of the timber is
indeed problematic: it is “legal’ since the timber sold is accompanied by complete
documents from the parastatal, but it is “de facto illegal.” In the SVLK scheme, timber
with this status is still accepted for the domestic market, but in the DNA-based CoC

7 Perhutani is a state plantation operator with the authority to manage timber business on a regional level.

Under government law no. 30/2003, Perhutani is authorized to issue its own laws to smooth its operational
practice. Some laws have been issued by the head of Perhutani, including the law governing timber auctions
(no. 995/KPTS/DIR/2007). Besides coming from Perhutani’s own plantation products, the sources of timber
auction could come from illegal timber caught by the police and secured by the court.
In DNA We Trust? 65

scheme, such timber is “untrustworthy,” whatever the reasons. In the language of

technological society, it can be said that the labeling or identity creation is the con-
sequence of a purification process in the technological zone or space created by
Doublehelix. Purification, following Latour, is a process in which “the heterogeneity
and complexity of the world is reduced. . . . Natural scientific knowledge no longer
bears any obvious trace social and cultural elements” (Barry 2001: 43). This process of
purification also explains the way Doublehelix responds to other problems and
obstacles it encounters in the field.
From interviews with Doublehelix representatives and consultation of publication
materials from the company, it seems there are several challenges faced by the DNA
technology in the field. The first are technical obstacles. In some instances, the logs at
the concessions are not well organized. There are high piles sometimes, making it
difficult for staff to take the samples. Because Doublehelix’s standard operating pro-
cedure requires a minimum of 96 percent samples to be taken, the problem is usually
communicated to the concession owners/managers, who may prolong and even ham-
per the sampling process. If there is no action taken by the concession, the situation
will be included in the audit report. Another technical problem is the limitation of
DNA marker methods. Microsatellites, which are commonly used in human and ani-
mal forensic tests, frequently produce poor amplification success in DNA from timber
(Dormontt et al. 2015: 795). In DNA barcoding, the challenge is mostly from the poor
quality of the wood extracted so that it is very hard to “sequence the large fragments
associated with the standard barcoding regions” (see Dormontt et al. 2015 for more
discussion on the matter). In the last part of Eleanor E. Dormontt et al.’s article, an
integration of different methods of timber identification, not only the genetic methods,
is advised in order to effectively combat illegal logging.
Besides the technical hurdles, there are also social and cultural issues arising in
the field particularly related to sustainable forest management standard policy. Certi-
Source’s standard requires its auditee to comply with good forest management
principles, including tax and social responsibilities. Some auditees, as revealed in
the interviews with a Doublehelix representative (personal communication, Double-
helix office manager, Indonesia, 11 September 2015), refused to show the tax docu-
ments. Some concessions also employ a number of workers under eighteen years of
age, which is clearly against the guidelines set by the International Labour Organi-
zation. It is not surprising since the social and cultural values in West Papua allow men
and women to marry at a young age, thus giving them an economic burden (Jones and
Gubhaju 2008: 4). In these cases, Doublehelix provides opportunities to the auditees to
respond and give reasons in the CAR response, as the system does not allow it to “pass”
these auditees without any notes.
The last identified obstacle, but definitely not the least, are the legal issues. Since a
decentralization policy was enacted, the resource rich provinces in West Papua have
the right to manage their own resources. Similar to Aceh province, West Papua enjoys
special autonomy with state recognition of the importance of indigenous communi-
ties. There are often conflicting regulations resulting from the policy. The Ministry of
Forestry has banned the sale of round wood in all regions in Indonesia. West Papua
province, however, still allows it. Other issues already identified by researchers work-
ing on timber verification and logging are the number of unregistered small sawmills
in Papua and problems on SVLK compliance (for further explanation, see Obidzinski
66 A. Budiastuti

et al. 2014: 29 –30). Another problem is the lack of clarity in timber documentation by
the Department of Forestry in West Papua (personal communication, Doublehelix
office manager, Indonesia, 17 September 2015). It is a common practice for the
Department of Forestry to issue documents giving a general description of the
wood species family, such as Meranti family (Shorea sp). Shorea sp is used to refer
to various species in the genus, such as white Meranti, Keruing, Bangkirai, and other
species. The oversimplistic description of wood in the administrative style of the DoF
staff may be due to the assumption that timber players can already identify different
species of Shorea sp. From my experience working in a timber manufacturing com-
pany in 2001, I can say there were indeed some ways to identify the different kinds
of timber. During the first months of training, I learned to classify wood based on
its texture and smell. Identifying timber using my senses has proven a handy skill
in many cases. To DNA timber tracking technology, however, this knowledge is
rendered unacceptable in practice. A person is capable of making errors, while tech-
nology is not.
Although CoC in general is a promising scheme to reduce cases of illegal logging,
the system has been subject to continuous debates. One source of criticism is the fact
that it does not guarantee that the wood is legally harvested (Dykstra et al. 2003: 38).
The CoC system only tracks timber from the stumps to the end consumers without
asking how timber concessions are secured. There are reports that many concession
rights are obtained by bribing state officials and without presenting a proper study of
environmental impact assessment and related documents (Moeliono, Wollenberg, and
Limberg 2008). Recently, this issue has been addressed by Doublehelix via the ver-
ification scheme (including CertiSource) by perpetually updating their CoC standard
policy to comprise all aspects such as fulfilment of environmental and social regu-
lations. The first issue, however, seems to remain out of hand. CertiSource/Double-
helix cannot control the way concession rights are obtained; in fact, no timber
verification system is able to do so. Support and goodwill from the Indonesian gov-
ernment to enforce better laws governing illicit activities at state levels are thus
ostensibly mandatory.
Another major problem that should be addressed is the fact that SVLK and the CoC
system are presently applied only to the export market. Since government control on
domestic timber trade is not as robust as that on export trade, the domestic market still
allows intake from illegal sources, which is estimated to be around 36 million cubic
meters/year (Fahmi et al. 2010). Even if the government enforces SVLK and the CoC
system in the domestic market, there are some issues that should be seriously consid-
ered. One of the concerns is the informal timber logging activity by unlicensed actors
(Obidzinski et al. 2014: 25). It has been revealed in the research that the number of
informal/unlicensed sawmills is almost three times the licensed ones in some regen-
cies in Java and two times in East Kalimantan. Illegal timber supply flows into these
sawmills because unregistered timber processing activities are difficult to control
while there is high demand for local timber but low supply of legal timber (see
Obidzinski et al. 2014 for further discussion and the authors’ policy options). Illegal
logging is thus not simply tackled by designing and implementing a sophisticated
timber verification system. Continuous efforts and research addressing these problems
need to be done in order to achieve good forest governance.
In DNA We Trust? 67

5 Conclusion

In this article I have provided a critical account on the way DNA-based technology
positions itself within the discourse of timber verification schemes in Indonesia. I have
shown how the DNA timber tracking technology is framed as the best solution for
illegal logging practice, which is subject to further scrutiny. In my discussion of
CertiSource/Doublehelix’s governmentality and biolegality within the framework
of technological society, three points can be made. First, CertiSource/Doublehelix
has created a new “regime of living,” in which an understanding of the good and the
processes of ethical formation—that is, in the constitutions of subjects—are accen-
tuated (Collier and Lakoff 2005: 23). The above discourses have hinted at how Certi-
Source/Doublehelix positions itself as having great concern about environmental
problems caused by “negligent” timber logging practices, proposes a solution, and
calls for subjects to be environmentally responsible. This stance will also help under-
stand how it questions or casts doubt on the existing timber legality verifications,
which mostly rely on paperwork. Secondly, the biolegal practice of the technology is
revealed in the way it challenges the existing definitions of legal/illegal and constructs
identities. Not only does it modify the governmental target (from a set of practices to
materiality of timber), it also creates identities of the timber, that is, which timber
meets the criteria to be procured and which timber is of “unknown” origin and subject
to further surveillance. In other words, it reconstructs the identities of the forest objects
and subjects. In this sense, the technology becomes a tool to connect bodies to their
environment and to manage their conduct in achieving a set of goals.
Finally, the analysis on the articulation of the technology within complex social,
cultural, and legal contexts accentuates the importance of trust and legitimacy in
paving the way for a novel technology to be incorporated into the legal system.
Although at present Doublehelix’s tracking technology has not yet become part of
the government’s timber verification procedures, there is a chance in the future that
genetic technology will have its “moment.” While many believe DNA timber tech-
nology is a promising tool to help curb illegal logging, the technical and nontechnical
issues faced by the technology are factors demanding strategy development. The
existence of drawbacks of the technology further suggests that DNA technology is
not infallible. Moreover, centering a governmental space or zone on technical matters
per se in a complex site like Indonesia may undermine other solutions worth further
scrutiny and consideration. By recognizing the problems as a collaboration of many
elements, a more effective attempt can be formulated together with stakeholders,
instead of applying a single solution based on precedence. Since there are limitations
in this study, further investigations need to be performed in unpacking aspects not
explored in this article. The Doublehelix project of creating a DNA global database
necessitates further discussion. Another interesting aspect to discuss is the typical
trajectory of timber of “unknown” sources, or the nonhuman “suspects” in this case.
What actually happens to those pieces of wood? Are they destroyed or are they sold in
the forestry parastatal’s timber auction with a new identity? Or something else? The
knowledge will be particularly useful in revealing the more “undercurrent” or illicit
practices, which seem to be a major force in the continued activities of illegal logging
in Indonesia, and possibly in other developing countries.
68 A. Budiastuti

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Arum Budiastuti is a lecturer and researcher in social and cultural studies, with main interests in techno-
culture, environmentalism, critical theories, and consumption practices on the Faculty of Humanities,
Universitas Airlangga, Indonesia. She continues to work on the concept of trust in her current research
project, “Halal Food, Gendered Consumption, and Technoscience in Indonesia” with the support from the
Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP).