Quo vadis the Indonesian banking system?

JAKARTA (JP): "Three hundred trillion rupiah!" shouted Iman in anguish. "That's what this country needs to recapitalize the troubled banks. We don't need a minister of finance, Indonesian Bank Restructuring Agency or IBRA to spend that kind of money. With Rp 300 trillion, we can reestablish a new banking system."

"And with that 600 trillion bad debt the authority plans to write off, we can even reestablish a whole new country!"

"Excuse me?"

"An institution led by Amien Rais found out that the government is engineering a silent operation to write off the bad debts of some giant conglomerates for the amount of approximately 600 trillion."

"Assamalakata!"

"And those who are the cause of the problem remain untouched. Some of them are sashaying out of the country before the government decides to slap travel bans on them. Oh, how I wish there weren't anymore banks in this country!"

"Yeah, this country would be very well off without any of them. Let's just go back to the good old days and stash our money under the mattress," added Bonny.

Ah, the good old days! The recollection of how Indonesians traditionally saved money takes me back to my happy childhood where as the youngest (and cutest too!) of nine siblings, I was spoiled rotten even by my stepmother. The old lady, whom I loved so much, never let my pockets go empty. Every time I stopped at her house on my way home from school, she always slipped a suku (50 cent coin) or at least a ketip (10 cents) into my pocket, which made me the "richest" child in the family.

To save my money, my mother discreetly bored a hole wide enough to deposit coins in the bamboo pole of our house. Using a conventional piggy bank made of clay would only lead me to loot my own money the same way modern-age bankers have looted their own banks and stashed the money abroad, leaving employees and customers in a wake of misery.

The annual traditional horse race held in Bukittinggi, followed by the Pasar Malam festival, was the time I took out my savings: that is, by making another hole at the bottom of the bamboo section and fishing the coins out.

"Hey, isn't that similar to the current ATM (automatic teller machine)?" joked Peggy, one of my students, when I told them about my colorful childhood.

"No, I'd call it a manual teller machine," joked another student.

"And I think it's about time we switch to your method of saving with bamboo poles," said Ahmad. "Saving money at the banks nowadays is like having fish looked after by hungry cats."

He couldn't be more precise with the expression he used. There is no guarantee that you can get your money from the bank when you need it. The authorities could close a bank as quickly as closing a window when rain comes. And with every step they take, the ultimate consequences must be borne by the people.

Take, for instance, the inpouring of funds called BLBI which were allocated to help banks restore their business. The interest of the loan would be paid by using the state budget (APBN), which means it becomes the burden of the people who have nothing to do with banking.

Ahmad has gone through the hassle of dealing with liquidated banks. He used to believe the government's guarantee that the money could be withdrawn without any problems, and that there would be no inconveniences suffered by the customers. But when he went to the bank to take his money out to pay for the cost of his wife's medical treatment, nobody was available to help.

The employees of the bank were busy with their own fight to get more severance pay, and the so-called government was nowhere in sight, leaving Ahmad speechless, vowing never to deal with banks again under any circumstances. What enraged him most was the attitude of the employees who didn't show a trace of responsibility, and claimed they were fighting for their own future.

Whatever the explanations are, bank customers should receive what they are entitled to and the bankers, who have looted their own institutions by channeling the money to their private companies, should be duly punished.

"They won't be!" said Iman, still in rage. "They are probably relaxing at their Beverly Hills mansion waiting for a certain political party which favors the status quo to win the general election, to restore everything to the way it used to be in the New Order era. The government has given them ample time to flee the country before applying cekal (a ban).

"You mean the government engineered their escape?" I wondered.

"I didn't say that. But, c'mon! The minister of finance, amid public pressure, slapped travel bans on bad bankers when it was too late. Some papers reported that no less than 100 bankers who are supposedly responsible for the bankruptcy have escaped abroad."

"What's the difference anyway? Even if they stay in this country, they are still untouchable. The government is still playing the usual 'we'll see' and 'we'll find out' game, waiting for the people to forget the case or until another one comes along to avert the public's attention. There have been so many cases that have disappeared into the mist."

"The government doesn't even have the guts to reveal their names."

"What's the difference?" said Iman, raising his voice. "Even if their names were revealed, and they were sent to court, the chances would be good that they would escape punishment. You know how laws are enforced in this country. With a little administrative error purposely made by the prosecutor in charge of the paper, a judge can easily free a defendant accused of embezzling Rp 1 billion."

"Iman!" Yayat warned, worrying that people may overhear our argument and that he would be in trouble.

"Don't Iman me!" he retorted, still in a fiery tone. "Dealing with the law is just like playing a game. If you play your cards right, you can always be free from the punishing verdicts. Sometimes, you don't even have to be present in a courtroom at all!"

"By the way," I said, trying to get back to our previous subject of discussion, "what are you doing with your money? Have you decided where to deposit it?"

Iman cracked a smile and showed me his sun tan. "All of our money is gone! After the traumatic experience with the bank, I wasn't sure what to do. So, while the money was good, I took my family to Bali and spent every last cent. Now, we don't have to worry about choosing a good bank. As far as I'm concerned, they can close them all."

Well, I don't blame him.

-- Carl Chairul