Feri Amsari – The recent corruption convictions of former Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P) secretary general Hasto Kristiyanto and former trade minister Thomas 'Tom' Lembong, and their subsequent pardoning by President Prabowo Subianto, have left a number of vital questions unanswered.
Their timing and trajectory of the convictions and the pardons have prompted renewed scrutiny of the intersection of law and politics in Indonesia's justice system because there are clear indications of politicking in both cases
Rule of law as a political weapon
Former PDIP politician Effendi Simbolon, for example, has publicly stated that Hasto ought to be grateful to former president Joko Widodo ('Jokowi'). According to Simbolon, without Jokowi protecting him, Hasto would have been prosecuted years ago.
Simbolon's statement raises serious concerns. Certainly, many believe it was a political falling out between Jokowi and the PDI-P that triggered Hasto's prosecution. It is true that after Jokowi parted ways with the PDI-P ahead of the 2024 presidential election, Hasto became critical of Jokowi. It was only then that the anti-corruption commission, the KPK, went ahead with its investigations into Hasto.
If President Jokowi was capable of halting the prosecution of a case in the past, it is not inconceivable that he might also be able to revive it later – albeit for different purposes.
This underscores the precariousness of Indonesia's legal system, where executive discretion can override prosecutorial and even judicial independence. The question is not just a legal one – it is constitutional and democratic. When justice becomes contingent on political proximity, the rule of law risks becoming a tool of convenience rather than a pillar of accountability.
Likewise, Lembong's conviction also present problems, with one of the judges citing Lembong's support for a capitalist economic system, and not the 'Pancasila economy', as an aggravating factor in his guilty verdict. Leaving aside the fact that Indonesia's economic system is clearly capitalist, the idea that an economic philosophy could serve as incriminating evidence sparked public outrage. How can an ideology – however contested – be grounds for criminal liability, when he was never charged with an ideological crime?
These problems have fuelled allegations that Lembong's trial was also politically motivated. This is because Lembong, a close ally of former presidential candidate Anies Baswedan, is a leading critic of Jokowi. In this case, the line between legal prosecution and ideological persecution appeared blurred. Seen this way, the Lembong's case not only challenges legal orthodoxy but also suggests the fragility of judicial neutrality in a politically charged environment.
President Prabowo's pardoning of Hasto and Tom was meant to end the controversies surrounding their cases. Instead, it sparked a new wave of questions: Was Hasto's pardon meant to draw the PDI-P back into the ruling coalition? Was Lembong's pardon a strategic move to temper public outrage? Or was this simply Prabowo's way of signalling a clear departure from the heavy-handed approach taken by President Joko Widodo towards his political opponents, and even his ability to ignore Jokowi's wishes? Or was Prabowo simply trying to undermine Jokowi by granting pardons to his political enemies?
Regardless of his motives, Prabowo's decision to grant the pardons raises fundamental questions that demand serious reflection. Will pardons be extended to other corruption cases? If so, what criteria govern such decisions, and how do we ensure they are not wielded arbitrarily or politically?
These questions go to the heart of Indonesia's constitutional order. They challenge us to consider whether justice is being served – or selectively suspended – in the name of political expediency.
A departure from historical pattern of legal pardons
In fact, pardons have long been used as instruments to resolve political conflict. It is a tradition dating back to the era of ancient Greek kingdoms, where such powers were exercised as mechanisms of reconciliation in pursuit of unity. These prerogatives were not merely legal tools, but political gestures aimed at restoring social harmony after periods of division.
Indonesia has drawn upon this legacy. Following independence from Dutch colonial rule, presidential clemency was extensively used to mend fractures in the newly sovereign state. The use of amnesty and abolition in this context reflected a broader political logic: that forgiveness, wielded judiciously, could stabilise a fragile democracy.
Article 14 of the 1945 Constitution grants the President the authority to issue pardons in the form of amnesty, abolition and rehabilitation. This power was originally conceived as an exclusive prerogative, free from interference by any other state institution. Although the amended constitution now requires the president to seek the Supreme Court's advice before issuing a pardon, the president is still not bound by that advice.
Under the 1950 Provisional Constitution, the procedures for pardons were codified in Emergency Law No. 11 of 1954. Article 2 of the Emergency Law specifically addressed clemency for individuals who had committed criminal acts prior to 27 December 1949, as a direct consequence of political conflict between the Indonesia and the Netherlands. It is clear that pardons were intended for those involved in political disputes – whether through physical resistance or ideological opposition to Dutch colonial rule.
This political dimension of pardons is further illustrated by Presidential Decision No. 303 of 1959, by which president Sukarno granted amnesty to members of the Darul Islam/Tentara Islam Indonesia (DI/TII) rebellion led by Kahar Muzakar in South Sulawesi.
Similar patterns emerged in Presidential Decisions No. 449 of 1961 and No. 2 of 1964, which granted amnesty and abolition to figures involved in various regional rebellions, including Daud Bereueh, the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia (PRRI), the Permesta movement, Kahar Muzakar (again), Kartosuwiryo, Ibnu Hadjar, and the Republic of South Maluku (RMS). Each case was rooted in political conflict.
During the New Order era and its transition, Presidents Soeharto and B.J. Habibie continued to use clemency in response to political dissent. In 1977, Soeharto granted amnesty and abolition to followers of the Fretilin movement in East Timor, while in 1998 Habibie extended clemency to government critics such as Sri Bintang Pamungkas and Muchtar Pakpahan. In the spirit of political reconciliation following authoritarian rule, President Abdurrahman Wahid also granted clemency in 2000 to activists accused of subversive acts against the state.
In 2005, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono's pardon for 2,000 members of the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) was another significant moment of national reconciliation, marking the end of a prolonged conflict between the Acehnese people and the central government.
Justice – or political strategy?
As all these examples, show, throughout Indonesia's history, pardons have consistently been tied to resolving political conflict. This raises a critical question: Why were Hasto and Lembong pardoned, despite their cases being clearly categorised as corruption? Was there an underlying political dispute that warranted national reconciliation?
Certainly, the Presidential Decision pardoning the two men stated that their pardoning was intended to foster national reconciliation. This implies that their actions were politically charged, and that the trials themselves were not purely judicial, but political in nature. Notably, the prosecutions of both began shortly before Jokowi left the office, when he still retained strong influence within the law enforcement institutions.
In Indonesia, corruption is a universally condemned offence. Therefore, accusing political opponents of corruption is a potent strategy to undermine their credibility.
From this perspective, the prosecutions of Hasto and Lembong could be seen as an attempt to subdue opposition groups. Even if corruption had taken place, the judicial process may have been orchestrated unfairly to silence dissenting voices. At that point, the fight against corruption ceases to be principled – it becomes corrupted by political power.
Hasto and Lembong's convictions and their pardons, therefore, may all have been little more than strategic political gestures, with the legal system wielded as a weapon by powerful politicians.
Source: https://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/are-prabowos-pardons-for-hasto-and-tom-political