Anak Krakatau's Fury: Jakarta Airport Shut as Indonesia's Colonial-Era Volcano Disrupts Thousands

Indonesia's main airport has extended its closure into Monday night after Mount Anak Krakatau erupted, stranding more than 340,000 passengers and exposing the fragility of a region still grappling with the legacy of colonial exploitation and environmental neglect. The volcano, whose name means 'Child of Krakatau', sits in the Sunda Strait, a waterway that once served as a brutal artery for Dutch colonial trade in spices and human lives.

The eruption on Saturday sent a fountain of lava and a plume of ash into the sky, forcing eight airports to halt operations over the weekend. Nearly 3,000 flights were disrupted, and the transport ministry reported that over 340,000 passengers were left stranded, a figure that underscores the scale of the crisis.

Jakarta's Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, named after Indonesia's first president and vice president, extended its closure from Monday morning to midnight. In a social media post, the airport cited 'increased eruption activity' and suspended all flight operations until 11:59 PM Western Indonesia Time. Halim Perdanakusuma, a smaller airport serving civil and military flights, also remained closed.

The transport ministry said more than 240 domestic and international flights were cancelled or delayed on Monday morning alone, affecting nearly 30,000 passengers. Six alternative airports, including those in East Java, Central Java, and Yogyakarta, have been prepared for aircraft originally scheduled to land in Jakarta.

Why is the eruption threat still high?

The country's geology agency warned that the probability of another eruption remains high. Agency head Lana Saria said the volcano has been sporadically active since it emerged from the sea in the early 20th century, in the caldera formed by the devastating 1883 eruption of Mount Krakatau, which killed tens of thousands and was felt as far away as Australia.

Transport Minister Dudy Purwagandhi explained that authorities extended the closures because the 'wind direction is very dynamic' and officials 'want to be absolutely sure that this volcanic ash moves away from the airport locations'. The government has also relaxed rules for foreign passengers who may have overstayed due to the cancellations.

How are passengers coping with the disruption?

Italian tourist Michel Miegge, a 32-year-old software engineer, was due to fly home with his girlfriend but their flight was cancelled. 'We don't have any news from the airline. We don't know if we stay another day in Jakarta or find another flight,' he told AFP. French painter Carol Odile, 60, was travelling with friends to see Komodo dragons in Flores when she received the cancellation notice. 'We are disappointed, but our group is optimistic. We hope we can go to Flores Island very soon,' she said.

Benjamin Foatelli, a 48-year-old perfumer based in Jakarta, was returning from Italy via Abu Dhabi when his connecting flight was delayed. 'I don't know yet if I'll be able to get back tonight, but I have everything I need to keep working so I can wait calmly for the situation to resolve,' he told AFP by phone.

What does this mean for Indonesia's vulnerable communities?

This crisis hits hardest those who can least afford it: workers, small traders, and families who depend on air travel for their livelihoods. The government's promise of free bus services for passengers willing to fly from other airports is a small relief, but it does little to address the systemic underinvestment in disaster preparedness that leaves communities exposed.

Anak Krakatau's history is a stark reminder of the region's volatile geology. A 2018 tsunami triggered by a collapse of parts of the volcano killed 429 people and displaced thousands, many of whom were still recovering from the economic shocks of the COVID-19 pandemic. The colonial-era extraction of resources, from spices to tin, has left a legacy of environmental degradation that amplifies these risks.

As the world watches Jakarta's skies, the question is not just when the ash will clear, but whether the global community, especially the West that profited from Indonesia's colonial past, will step up to support climate and disaster resilience in the Global South. The answer, so far, has been a resounding silence.