Quo vadis the Indonesian banking system?

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