In the midst of this banality, we need to stop for a moment and ask questions that challenge the existence of our law. If maladministration that violates constitutional rights is not considered a serious crime, then what law are we actually protecting? If a small citizen is punished for stealing a pair of sandals for survival, while an official who emasculates the rights of thousands of people through a procedurally flawed decree can still walk away without any sanctions other than "administrative reprimand", where is the dignity of our law? This inequality shows that we are maintaining a system that values the formality of office more than the substance of justice. We are trapped in the narrow logic that "crime" only occurs if there is an illegal flow of funds, while the practice of killing legal certainty through maladministration is considered a residue of development that can be morally justified.

Ombudsman and the Culture of Administrative Impunity

Our lack of seriousness in viewing maladministration is clear from how our legal instruments work discriminatorily. Law Number 37 of 2008 concerning the Ombudsman of the Republic of Indonesia does provide a supervisory mandate, but the teeth of this institution are often blunt when faced with the walls of sectoral ego of ministries or institutions. The Ombudsman's recommendations, which are legally final and binding, are often considered in practice as "friendly advice" that can be ignored without consequences. This condition creates a culture of impunity. If an official makes an administrative error that causes billions of rupiah in losses to the rights of citizens, but no money goes into his personal pocket, our law tends to hesitate to punish him. In fact, the destructive impact of an administratively wrong decision is often wider and more permanent than an individual act of bribery. The administrative crime of office is the most ancient form of malpractice of power because it kills the people's hope for justice right at the door of the government office.