When Indonesia’s revised Criminal Code came fully into force in January 2026, international headlines warned that tourists in Bali could be jailed for sex outside marriage. The reality on the ground is more nuanced, but for foreign visitors—especially singles, unmarried couples, mixed foreign–Indonesian couples, and LGBTQ travellers—the new law has introduced a layer of legal uncertainty that did not previously exist.
Under the new code, consensual sex outside marriage is a criminal offence, punishable by up to one year in prison, while cohabitation by unmarried couples can carry a sentence of up to six months. The law applies nationwide, including to foreigners visiting Bali. In principle, that means a single traveller, an unmarried heterosexual couple, or a same-sex couple could all fall within its scope. In practice, however, enforcement is tightly constrained by how the law is written.
Crucially, these offences are not subject to random police action. They are complaint-based. A case can only proceed if a formal complaint is filed by someone with a direct legal relationship to one of the parties—typically a spouse, parent, or child. Police cannot act on rumours, hotel staff cannot report guests, and immigration officials do not check marital status. Bali’s tourism authorities have repeatedly stressed that hotels will not require marriage certificates and that visitors will not be subject to morality checks. For the vast majority of short-term tourists who arrive, stay in resorts or private villas, and leave without family involvement, the risk of prosecution remains extremely low.
That said, the risk is not zero, and it is unevenly distributed. For unmarried foreign couples travelling together, the main exposure arises when there is a third party with standing to complain. This is most likely in cases involving an Indonesian partner. A foreigner in a relationship with an Indonesian citizen could, in theory, face a complaint lodged by disapproving parents or a spouse in cases of infidelity. Long stays, visible cohabitation, or living within extended family settings can increase vulnerability, particularly outside the more anonymous tourist zones of Bali.
Single travellers face less obvious risk, but the law does not distinguish between residents and visitors. A complaint triggered by family conflict or personal disputes could still open a legal process. For digital nomads or expatriates living in Bali for months at a time, the cohabitation provision is more relevant than for short-term holidaymakers, especially if neighbours or relatives become involved.
LGBTQ visitors occupy a particularly sensitive legal grey zone. Indonesia does not recognise same-sex marriage, meaning that any sexual relationship between same-sex partners is, by definition, outside marriage. While the Criminal Code does not explicitly target homosexuality, this structural exclusion leaves LGBTQ couples legally unprotected if a complaint is filed. In Bali’s tourist areas, where LGBTQ travellers have long visited with relative ease, enforcement is still widely seen as unlikely. However, the law reinforces existing vulnerabilities, especially for LGBTQ Indonesians and for foreign–local same-sex couples with family exposure. Human rights organisations have warned that, even without mass enforcement, the chilling effect of the law increases the risk of harassment, extortion, or selective complaints.
It is also important for visitors to understand that Bali is not the same as all of Indonesia. While the national Criminal Code applies across the country, Bali has positioned itself as tourist-friendly and culturally distinct. Other regions operate under different local norms, and Aceh province, for example, enforces separate Islamic bylaws with far stricter penalties. Travellers moving beyond Bali should be especially cautious.
Foreign governments, including Australia, have updated travel advice to reflect the legal change, but they have not advised against travel. The consensus among diplomats, tourism officials, and legal observers is that the law is aimed primarily at domestic moral regulation, not at policing tourists’ private lives. Still, foreigners are subject to Indonesian law, regardless of intent or cultural expectations.
For visitors to Bali, the new Criminal Code does not mean an end to beach holidays, honeymoons, or romantic getaways. It does mean that private relationships now exist within a more conservative legal framework. For most tourists, discretion and awareness are sufficient. For those in mixed relationships, long-term stays, or LGBTQ partnerships, the risks are more situational—and worth understanding before booking a ticket to Bali, in Indonesia.
I’ve already said what I think about Indonesia’s shiny new Criminal Code, and I won’t pretend I’ve softened overnight. It is bad law, absurd law, and a law that confuses morality with control. Criminalising consensual sex outside marriage does nothing to strengthen families, protect women, or make societies healthier. What it does do is invite fear, silence, hypocrisy and selective punishment—always the favourite tools of moral crusaders.
That said, outrage alone won’t help my friends who are going to Bali next month, next year, or who already live there. So here’s my Auntie advice, delivered with love, pragmatism, and a raised eyebrow.
First: be prudent. Know the law, understand how it works, and don’t behave as if you’re immune because you’re a foreigner with a beach budget and a sunset cocktail. This law exists. It is complaint-based, yes, but complaints don’t come from thin air. They come from people—often family members—who disapprove, resent, or want leverage. If you’re in a mixed relationship, if you’re living long-term, if you’re visible in ways that attract attention, discretion is not cowardice. It’s survival.
Second: be respectful. Bali is not a theme park, and Indonesia is not a cultural backdrop for your personal rebellion. Respect doesn’t mean agreeing with conservative norms, but it does mean understanding that you are a guest in a society that is negotiating its own internal battles about religion, sexuality, and power. Don’t mock, don’t provoke, don’t perform your freedom as if it’s a weapon. That kind of arrogance always backfires—usually on the most vulnerable, not on the loudest expat in the room.
But—and this matters—do not bow to the moral police, whether they wear uniforms or family titles. There is a difference between being prudent and being ashamed. There is a difference between respecting local culture and internalising someone else’s control over your body, your love, your identity. Do not apologise for being unmarried. Do not erase your partner to make others comfortable. Do not pretend your queerness is a phase, a joke, or something best kept “out of sight” to preserve harmony.
For my LGBTQ friends especially: Bali has not suddenly turned into a prison island, but the legal ground beneath you is less solid than before. Choose your spaces carefully, protect your networks, and don’t confuse tolerance with rights. They are not the same thing.
This law is not about sex. It’s about power. And power feeds on silence and fear. Be careful, yes. Be smart, always. But do not shrink yourselves to fit someone else’s moral fantasy. Auntie says: walk softly, eyes open, spine straight.