Crypto Language: The Mask of Corruption
Language was created to explain the world. Through language, humans convey thoughts, build trust, and create mutual understanding. However, history also shows another side of language that is rarely discussed. Language is not always used to reveal meaning. In certain situations, language is actually used to conceal it.
Not long ago, the public was shocked by the Corruption Eradication Commission’s (KPK) disclosure of alleged extortion and gratuities within the immigration system. In this case, the term ‘malaikat’ (angel) emerged, used as a code for the distribution of money to specific officials. A word long identified with purity, obedience, and virtue suddenly acquired a new, completely different meaning. Other terms also appeared in the case, such as vocalist, guitarist, backing vocal, and choreographer, representing the flow of money to certain parties.
The case is compelling because corruption reveals a face that often escapes attention, namely linguistics. This phenomenon reminds us that corruption is not merely a matter of money and power. Corruption is also a problem of meaning. Foucault (1969) conveyed that language is a communication tool that shapes how humans understand reality. In the context of corruption, power operates not only through policy but also through the ability to control language.
The use of secret language is actually not new in human life. The military world knows Morse code and semaphore to maintain information confidentiality. Various community groups also have distinctive languages understood only by their members. In Malang, ‘walikan’ language is known, such as ‘arek Malang’ which becomes ‘kera Ngalam’. In Yogyakarta, there is a walikan language based on Javanese script. In Betawi culture, a number of words undergo sound changes so they are only easily understood by certain groups.
Fundamentally, all forms of secret language are products of human creativity. Language becomes a tool to build group identity, strengthen social solidarity, and simultaneously maintain communication confidentiality. There is no issue when this function is used for cultural, social, or security purposes. Problems arise when the same creativity is used to conceal the abuse of power.
In various corruption cases that have been uncovered, the public has become familiar with many terms that sound odd yet intriguing. There is ‘apel malang’ and ‘apel washington’ to differentiate types of currency. There is ‘pengajian’ (religious study), ‘liqo’, or ‘pesantren’ (Islamic boarding school) used as codes for certain meetings and networks. There is also the term ‘sumbangan masjid’ (mosque donation) used to disguise money flows. Now the term ‘malaikat’ has emerged again. Interestingly, corruption codes almost never use words directly related to bribery, gratuities, or illicit money. The chosen words are precisely those familiar to the public, terms with positive value, or symbols that carry social and moral legitimacy. Religious language, academic language, everyday terms, even symbols of virtue are turned into hiding places for meaning.
This phenomenon shows that corruption is not just an economic crime. Corruption is also a practice of linguistic manipulation. Words are used to create distance between actions and reality. The greater the distance created, the easier it is for someone to reduce the moral burden of their actions. When a bribe is called a ‘thank you’, an ‘allocation’, or ‘malaikat’, language is working not to explain reality but to obscure it. Secret language is often understood simply as an effort to avoid wiretapping or surveillance by law enforcement officials. Yet the problem goes much deeper than that. Secret language is actually a psychological trace of an awareness that the actions taken cannot be accounted for openly.
People who are confident their actions are right do not need codes. They do not need to rename money with fruit, replace officials with religious terms, or call the distribution of money ‘malaikat’. Conversely, the more complex the code used, the more apparent the need to hide something from the public sphere. Within that framework, the terms ‘malaikat’, ‘allocation’, or ‘donation’ are not just vocabulary. They are a way to reduce guilt. An action that is essentially a bribe feels lighter when called by a more neutral term. Extortion sounds less disturbing when wrapped in familiar, non-threatening language.
The case of using the term ‘malaikat’ leaves an irony worthy of collective reflection. A word long associated with purity is precisely used to disguise alleged practices that contradict the values of purity itself. This event shows that corruption not only damages institutions and state finances but also damages the language that is humanity’s primary tool for building trust. Corruption always seeks ordinary-sounding words so that extraordinary actions can appear normal. It borrows symbols respected by society, then alters their meaning for certain interests. It is here we see that the fight against corruption is also truly a fight to maintain the honesty of meaning.
The biggest problem is not that the perpetrators of corruption are capable of creating sophisticated codes. The more worrying thing is when intelligence, creativity, education, and high linguistic ability are no longer directed at building public trust, but at deceiving it. Based on KPK data, more than 90% of regional heads entangled in corruption come from highly educated backgrounds, from bachelor’s to doctoral degrees.