A cascade of radioactive contamination has triggered an unprecedented trade crisis for Indonesia, exposing decades-old industrial safety gaps that now threaten the country’s reputation as a reliable global supplier. With the US imposing stringent import certification requirements and multiple countries expressing concerns, Indonesia faces a critical choice: confront legacy contamination problems transparently or risk losing market access worth billions in export revenue.
Indonesia is facing one of its most delicate trade credibility crises in years. After the United States rejected Indonesian shrimp over contamination concerns, American authorities have now blocked two containers of footwear from Banten after detecting traces of cesium-137, an isotope with no place in any modern industrial supply chain. The shock deepened when it was revealed that at least two dozen factories, including producers for major global brands such as Nike and Adidas, had been exposed to low-level radioactive material linked to legacy industrial waste in the Cikande area. Only weeks earlier, US inspections had found radioactive traces in Indonesian cloves. What initially looked like scattered incidents is now forming a disturbing pattern, one that strikes at the heart of Indonesia’s export reliability and global standing.
The footwear rejection in the US is not an isolated event. It highlights a deeper vulnerability: contamination that may go undetected within facilities or industrial zones built long before contemporary safety standards existed. Investigations in Banten revealed radiation linked to decades-old industrial remnants, raising uncomfortable questions about oversight gaps and the resilience of Indonesia’s production ecosystem. For importing countries, these are not minor concerns; they signal risks that cannot be negotiated away.
Compounding the issue, radioactive traces have appeared across multiple unrelated commodities. After seafood products, cloves became the next export to be scrutinized. Investigations traced the problem back to soil and environmental residues at facilities insufficiently aligned with today’s stricter safety expectations. The emerging pattern suggests systemic weaknesses: not an absence of regulations, but gaps in enforcement, uneven capacity across regions, and legacy industrial zones whose risks were never fully mapped or mitigated.
This is important to emphasize: Indonesia is not a country without environmental rules. Over the past three decades, its regulatory framework has grown more sophisticated, with monitoring instruments, regular audits, and tighter cooperation between national and local authorities. Many companies follow sustainability and safety practices comparable to global standards. The problem now surfacing lies elsewhere, in uneven implementation, outdated infrastructure, and inconsistent risk management across the supply chain. The cesium-137 incidents do not reflect a lack of laws; they reveal a need to strengthen execution and modernize oversight to match Indonesia’s ambitions as a major exporting economy.
Beyond quality control, the episode carries broader implications for Indonesia’s position within an increasingly sensitive global marketplace. Major economies are now using supply-chain safety as a filter to determine which countries are “trusted” and which are not. Even if the contamination originates from legacy issues, the findings can easily become a proxy for judging the credibility of an entire national production system. A slow or opaque response risks eroding Indonesia’s bargaining power, affecting trade discussions, investment decisions, and the willingness of global brands to maintain or expand operations. Trading partners today assess not only what Indonesia sells but also whether the system producing those goods can be relied upon.
Indonesia’s experience in the WTO dispute system offers a useful mirror. The country has successfully challenged discriminatory policies, winning cases on palm oil, biodiesel, and stainless steel against the European Union. But it also suffered a high-profile loss in the nickel ore export ban case, where the WTO ruled that Indonesia’s downstream industry was not sufficiently developed to justify the restriction. These mixed results underscore two realities: Indonesia can defend its interests when the playing field is unfair, yet can also be called out when domestic policies or capacities fall short of international expectations. In this context, the recent US product rejections demand careful judgment. Theoretically, Indonesia could pursue the issue through WTO mechanisms, if it believes US actions are disproportionate. However, doing so would only be viable if Jakarta can demonstrate that its own oversight systems are robust. Otherwise, escalating the dispute risks backfiring, exposing Indonesia to broader scrutiny and potentially amplifying doubts about its production integrity.
Diplomacy alone cannot resolve this crisis. Asking the US to “allow clarification” or “avoid overreaction” does little when the evidence is rooted in laboratory findings. International trade operates on scientific standards, health protocols, and risk assessments, not political sentiment. When contamination is detected, importing countries are obligated to reject the products, regardless of diplomatic goodwill. No amount of public statements can substitute for a strong, verifiable safety regime at home.
Indonesia’s leadershipmust recognize that this is not a narrow technical glitch. It is a national risk that touches consumer safety, export resilience, industrial competitiveness, and global confidence. Three layers of danger are unfolding simultaneously: the potential cancellation of high-value export contracts, domestic health and environmental risks in affected industrial zones, and reputational damage that could influence how global markets view all Indonesian goods, not only the contaminated ones.
When a country’s reputation is questioned, the consequences ripple far beyond one sector. Importing nations may increase inspection frequencies, slowing down shipments and raising compliance costs. Major global brands might reconsider their supply chain footprints, shifting orders to Vietnam, Thailand, or Bangladesh. Jobs, investment, and export earnings are all at stake. Indonesia cannot assume the world will remain patient if safety incidents continue.
The path forward requires parallel efforts: technical strengthening and credibility rebuilding. On the technical side, Indonesia needs comprehensive audits of older industrial zones, modern radiation detection at every stage of the supply chain, transparent tracing of contamination sources, and improved laboratory capacity in regional areas. For credibility, Jakarta must embrace transparency, publishing findings, updating partners, and demonstrating verifiable improvements. Trading partners do not expect perfection; they expect accountability and clarity.
Indonesian industries also must adapt to new global realities. Competing on price alone is no longer enough. Whether producing footwear, shrimp, cloves, or electronics, exporters operate in a world where traceability, hygiene, and environmental safeguards define market access. Countries that cannot meet these expectations will inevitably be pushed aside by those that can.
If there is a lesson to be learnt in this series of incidents, it is that Indonesia stands at an inflection point. The country has regulations, monitoring instruments, and skilled professionals. What is needed now is consistent implementation, the courage to confront legacy problems, and the determination to ensure that every industrial facility, old or new, meets the safety standards expected by global markets. Indonesia has the capacity to fix this, but only if its government and industries choose transparency, urgency, and decisiveness.
The cases involving shrimp, cloves, and footwear should not be treated as unfortunate anomalies. They are a sharp warning. In an era where trust determines market access, Indonesia must prove that its products are not only competitive but also unquestionably safe. The cost of inaction would be far higher than the embarrassment of confronting the problem head-on.
Akhmad Hanan is an independent Indonesian researcher specialising in geopolitics and energy. He holds a Bachelor’s degree in Oceanography from Universitas Diponegoro (UNDIP) and a Master’s in Energy Security from Universitas Pertahanan (UNHAN) – the Indonesian Defence University.
This article is published under Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.
