By Komaruddin Hidayat, Chairman of the Press Council
Since my early days in elementary school through my years as a university student, I have believed that the local traditions of Indonesia’s diverse ethnic groups embody noble values that teach people to live with dignity. They serve as social capital and cultural pillars for building a civilized nation and state. Indonesia is not an ethnic nation, but a civic nation built on universal values and ideals, as reflected in Pancasila, which itself draws from the country’s diverse local wisdom.
After becoming more familiar with and closely involved in the worlds of bureaucracy and politics, however, that belief began to fade. I remember how Javanese culture emphasizes unggah-ungguh (proper conduct and respect), tepa selira (consideration for others) and gotong royong (mutual cooperation).
A friend from Minangkabau introduced me to the proverb dima bumi dipijak, di sinan langik dijunjuang — the ability to adapt to the social environment without losing one’s dignity. A friend from Bugis introduced me to siri’ na pacce, a principle centered on preserving honor and solidarity. In Bali, people uphold Tri Hita Karana, the principle of harmony between human beings, nature and God.
Further east, the people of Maluku uphold pela gandong, a philosophy that emphasizes that we are all brothers and sisters despite differences in religion, village and ancestry. A well-known expression says: Ale rasa beta rasa, katong samua orang basudara — if you feel it, I feel it too; we are all brothers and sisters.
And there are many other forms of local wisdom among Indonesia’s ethnic groups that teach civilized conduct and respect for others.
These traditions form an ethical foundation and a source of wisdom for regulating relations among people. They emphasize mutual assistance, honesty, and the importance of preserving the good name and dignity of one’s parents and community.
Yet as I have grown older, I have come to see a paradox that continues to puzzle me. Why do some people who are born and raised in religious and cultural environments that uphold good character become involved in corruption when they assume positions in the state bureaucracy, harming the public and bringing dishonor to their communities?
Why does someone known in their hometown as polite, religious and helpful suddenly show no shame — and even feel no hesitation — about abusing power once they hold public office?
A deficit of ethics in the bureaucracy
Local wisdom can survive for generations because it is collectively upheld by members of communities who know one another personally. In a village, for example, people may be reluctant to steal a neighbor’s chicken because they fear the social sanctions imposed by their neighbors. Someone known for lying, stealing or breaking promises would immediately feel the consequences of social disapproval.
In traditional communities, the first qualities expected of a village head, customary leader or community figure are integrity and personal example — not formal office or titles.
Today, however, that foundation of local wisdom has begun to crumble. Many people from local communities who pursue careers in politics and government behave very differently once they enter positions of power.
They encounter structures of power, government projects and enormous budgets that may have been unimaginable to people in their hometowns. Within bureaucratic networks, they no longer deal primarily with neighbors, relatives or customary leaders. Social relationships become formal and impersonal. In some cases, they can even become relationships characterized by competition, obstruction and betrayal.
When corrupt officials return to their hometowns, they may still appear polite, generous and willing to help their neighbors rather than take what belongs to them. Having become wealthy, they may also fear social sanctions and feel embarrassed to look directly into the eyes of someone they have harmed.
The situation is very different when a corrupt official takes billions of rupiah from the state budget without ever seeing the faces of the people who lose their rights as a result. This psychological distance can be an initial cause of the erosion of morality rooted in local wisdom.
Corruption can feel easier to commit when the victims are not physically present. Public and state money becomes an abstract reality.
Communal morality teaches loyalty to one’s family, group, ethnic community and immediate surroundings. Bureaucratic ethics, by contrast, requires a broader understanding of loyalty and responsibility toward the public interest.
As a result, someone may be deeply honest and loyal to their family while feeling little guilt about awarding a government project to a relative or someone from their hometown. This is where a gray area emerges, potentially giving rise to nepotism and primordialism because we have failed to transform local wisdom into the norms and ethics of a modern bureaucracy.
The principle of gotong royong, which originally represents mutual assistance, can be distorted into collective corruption when brought into the bureaucratic sphere. Corruption carried out collectively, particularly when powerful figures are involved, can be difficult to expose because those involved protect one another. Mutual cooperation and solidarity are transformed into collusion. When wrongdoing is uncovered, it is often lower-ranking staff who are sacrificed.
The weaknesses of the bureaucratic system
Corruption does not occur solely because individuals have weak morals. It is also encouraged by opportunities, incentives and justifications created by their environment.
The government bureaucracy has three major features that can create opportunities for corruption.
First, officials have the authority to determine budgets, projects, permits, appointments and policies. Such extensive powers always carry the potential for abuse.
Second, there is often a considerable distance between decisions and their consequences. An official who signs off on a fictitious project from behind a desk may never see the house that was not built, the school that was not repaired or the patient who did not receive treatment. The losses suffered by the state may not be immediately visible, while the personal benefits of corruption are concrete and immediately felt.
Third is the normalization of corruption. Corruption can come to be treated as though it were simply part of the culture.
When a bureaucratic environment regards bribery, gratification, commissions and manipulation of budgets as ordinary practices, even individuals who were once moral and idealistic may feel pressured to conform or risk being pushed aside.
The values instilled by families and local communities from childhood — including the principle that one should never take what does not belong to them — can gradually disappear. In psychological terms, this is known as moral disengagement.
People begin to rationalize their actions: “If I do not participate, I will be pushed aside. And if I am pushed aside, my family will suffer.”
A conflict then emerges between the values learned at home and at university and the new social environment encountered in the workplace.
A question begins to haunt them: Is honesty still relevant if dishonesty is what leads to success?
The problem facing this nation is not a lack of values. Rather, it is a shortage of exemplary leaders and the government’s failure to integrate our rich local values into the conduct of public affairs.
We have failed to transform local wisdom into civic wisdom — to move from communal ethics to structural ethics.
A public official is not merely expected to be a good person in their private life. They must also be capable of rejecting conflicts of interest, maintaining transparency and resisting pressure from groups that undermine a merit-based system.
Government officials must firmly uphold the principle that public office is not a facility for personal enrichment, but a responsibility and a calling to serve.
Corruption among people from Indonesia’s various regions is not evidence that local wisdom has failed. Rather, it shows that this moral inheritance has not yet been fully transformed into the systems and culture of government bureaucracy, allowing good character to survive even at the centers of power.
The transactional political culture that requires enormous sums of money — and which is one of the sources of corruption — must come to an end.
