Urip Tri Gunawan, who was chief prosecutor in a team investigating bad debts of the Bank Indonesia Liquidity Assistance, was caught by officers of the commission accepting a bribe worth US$600,000 in the Jakarta home of one of the bank's debtors.
While this has been hailed as an important breakthrough, the reaction on the part of the attorney general's office has been quite muted. Attorney General Hendarman Supandji apparently appeared quite surprised and felt betrayed by his own subordinates.
Although the attorney general appeared dismayed and surprised, ordinary Indonesians are quite aware of what is taking place in the country. Many Indonesians know that the legal institutions -- the police, the attorney general's office and the judiciary -- are plagued with corruption and that it is impossible for the poor to attain justice.
There is a common understanding in the country that not only lawyers but the law itself can be bought if there is enough money. If the attorney general is not aware of what ordinary people on the street know, then what is one to conclude: is this the simple ignorance of an "ignoramus" or culpable ignorance?
Given his level of education, erudition and experience, it would be an insult, of course, to call the attorney general an "ignoramus." Can his astonishment then be described as culpable ignorance -- ignorance cultivated to suit the demands of the living and working environment or, in other words, a gradual assimilation of a prevailing culture without critical evaluation so that survival, rather than constructive positioning, is the order of the day?
This type of posturing, while assuring promotions and recompense, can never take a country forward in the realm of justice. This tragic posturing explains the continuous refusal to conduct investigations into cases of human rights violations.
It is hard to imagine that the attorney general has not seen the innumerable skeletons in Indonesia's cupboards. The files pertaining to the inquiries into the Trisakti and Semanggi massacres by the National Human Rights Commission of Indonesia, or Komnas HAM, are hidden somewhere, as are the investigations into the attacks on the Chinese community in the riots of May 1998. What devious cloak is covering them other than culpable impunity and corruption?
In the context of distrust and disillusionment regarding the attorney general's office, the Corruption Eradication Commission (Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi or KPK) was dismayed when it sensed that the office of the attorney general had begun questioning prosecutor Urip Tri Gunawan after he had been arrested by the KPK. When this intrusion into the investigative process was revealed, the KPK rightly warned against interference with an ongoing investigation that is within its mandate, a mandate that is clearly stipulated in Article 9 of the 2002 law establishing the KPK and authorizes the anti-corruption body to conduct investigations into all cases of corruption.
Once the investigations are completed by the KPK, the attorney general's office can then proceed with its investigation and prosecution and not the reverse order. It was for this reason that the Commission of Justice of the House of Representatives urged the attorney general to suspend a deputy attorney general and an investigation director temporarily, both of whom were suspected of collusion with this prosecutor, Urip Tri Gunawan.
While the KPK must be congratulated for the arrest of Urip Tri Gunawan and for warning the attorney general's office to stop its intrusion into its investigation, the general expectation of the public is that the investigation will end in a conviction.
Until recently, the general public was dismissive of the KPK as it had not produced any results. The case of this prosecutor may be a prime opportunity for it to establish its credibility. For the KPK to earn this respect, it requires that this and other high-profile cases are impartially and urgently investigated so that prosecutions are effected. It must also stand its ground and conduct investigations using the most sophisticated methods so that the KPK is able to present a strong case for conviction.
The necessity of such dedicated and arduous work comes from the fact that corruption in the office of the attorney general is entrenched and is not confined to a few individuals. Years of impunity and the absence of a culture supporting adequate investigations that lead to convictions have created a sense of complacency and intransigence. For the KPK to make a breakthrough in this entrenched system of corruption, it must build its own system of investigation without depending on the attorney general's office until the latter is sufficiently reformed.
The attorney general's office cannot be reformed in isolation, however. It is just a component of the legal system. The attention paid to the attorney general must be extended to cover the police and the judiciary, as both these institutions, while benefiting from the current corrupt system, have been instrumental in making the system self-serving. Overcoming such a culture of corruption requires the firm backing of the Commission of Justice of the House of Representatives, a vigilant community and awakened civil society organizations constantly calling for reform of the legal system.
It is no secret that Hong Kong was plagued with corruption until the mid-1970s. Pressure from the general public made the governor create the Independent Commission Against Corruption, which initially was mandated to reform the police. Hong Kong's claims today to be largely a corruption-free society must be credited to the work of the ICAC in the past three decades.
Let us wish that the initial steps taken by the KPK are the rumblings of a greater upheaval that leads to a transformation of the justice-delivery system in Indonesia as well.
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(Philip Setunga is a staff member of the Asian Human Rights Commission in Hong Kong responsible for the organization's research on Indonesia. He has a doctorate in sociology.)





