The Untold History of Papua New Guinea’s Southern Highlands: A Land of Conflict, Culture, and Climate Challenges
Home / Southern Highlands history
The Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea (PNG) is a region of breathtaking landscapes, deep cultural roots, and a history marked by both resilience and strife. Nestled in the rugged interior of the island, this area has long been a crossroads of tribal warfare, colonial influence, and modern-day resource exploitation. Today, as the world grapples with climate change, indigenous rights, and economic inequality, the Southern Highlands offers a microcosm of these global struggles.
Long before European contact, the Southern Highlands was home to numerous tribal groups, each with distinct languages, customs, and social structures. The Huli, Duna, and Ipili peoples were among the most prominent, known for their elaborate ceremonial dress, intricate wig-making traditions, and fierce warrior culture.
Land ownership was (and still is) a central aspect of life, governed by complex kinship systems rather than written deeds. Disputes over territory often led to tribal warfare, a practice that persisted well into the 20th century. Unlike coastal regions, which saw early missionary and colonial influence, the Southern Highlands remained largely isolated until the mid-1900s.
The first significant European contact came in the 1930s when Australian explorers and missionaries ventured into the highlands. The discovery of vast, fertile valleys and dense populations astonished outsiders, who had assumed the interior was sparsely inhabited.
By the 1950s, the Australian colonial administration began exerting control, introducing Western education, Christianity, and cash crops. However, this "civilizing mission" often clashed with indigenous traditions. Many highlanders resisted, seeing the new order as a threat to their autonomy.
In 1981, a seismic shift occurred when natural gas was discovered in the Southern Highlands by Chevron. The Hides gas field, one of the largest in PNG, promised economic transformation. But instead of prosperity, the region saw increased conflict.
Landowners fought over royalties, and the government struggled to distribute benefits fairly. Corruption siphoned off wealth, leaving many communities disillusioned. This "resource curse" is a familiar story in developing nations—where natural riches often fuel inequality rather than upliftment.
The Southern Highlands is on the front lines of climate change. Erratic weather patterns disrupt subsistence farming, while deforestation for logging and palm oil plantations accelerates soil erosion. The melting glaciers of Mount Wilhelm, PNG’s highest peak, symbolize a disappearing way of life.
Indigenous communities, who rely on the land for survival, are now forced to adapt. Some turn to cash crops, while others migrate to urban centers—only to face unemployment and urban poverty.
Despite modernization, tribal conflict remains a grim reality. High-powered firearms, introduced during the Bougainville crisis in the 1990s, have made clashes deadlier. Disputes over land, politics, and resource revenues frequently escalate into bloodshed.
In 2019, a massacre in Tari shocked the nation when over a dozen people were killed in a single clash. The government’s response—often heavy-handed—fails to address root causes: lack of economic opportunity and weak governance.
As world leaders debate climate policies at forums like COP28, the Southern Highlands’ plight highlights the gap between global rhetoric and local reality. Indigenous leaders from PNG demand recognition—not just as victims of climate change, but as stewards of biodiversity.
Yet, their voices are often drowned out by corporate interests. The irony? The same forests they protect are sold as carbon credits to multinational companies, with little benefit trickling down to the people.
The Southern Highlands stands at a crossroads. Will it succumb to the pressures of globalization, or can it forge a path that honors its heritage while embracing sustainable development?
One thing is certain: the world must pay attention. Because the struggles of this remote region mirror our own—climate injustice, economic disparity, and the fight for cultural survival. And in that struggle lies a lesson for us all.