The promise of promises and official herd mentality

Kornelius Purba, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

When reading about Jakarta Police chief Insp. Gen. Firman Gani's magical promise to rid the city of gambling within three days, a middle-aged friend recalled a recent conversation he had with a jamu gendong (traditional herbal medicine) vendor.

"Three days after you drink my jamu, I guarantee your wife will say you're much stronger now than during your honeymoon," cooed the woman.

Many people have questioned how Firman could make such a bombastic promise considering that gambling -- illegal in this country -- has been such a big part of the city for decades?

Is it because he has inherited Aladdin's magic lamp, the gambling dens are under the aegis of the police or because we were all mistaken and there never was any gambling in the city?

Whatever the case, what is the relationship between the tempting jamu vendor and the police general?

"Make me your wife, then I'll tell you how much stronger you are after drinking my jamu," the friend quoted the woman as saying when he told her his wife didn't have anything to say about his "strength" after he drank the herbal medicine.

Like the woman, was Firman really saying, "Make me your deputy (and eventual successor) and I will say gambling has been eradicated," when his new boss, National Police chief Gen. Sutanto, complained that Firman offered nothing but meaningless promises?

Of course not.

It would be for the country's benefit if Firman could make good on his promise and stamp out gambling within three days.

If Sutanto said he would no longer tolerate corrupt traffic police officers, then all traffic officers would probably end up smiling at motorists like hotel receptionists welcoming guests.

When Firman was a colonel and an adjutant to president B.J. Habibie in 1999, he scolded an elderly photographer for failing to wear a peci, a type of traditional hat. During that period Habibie required all visitors to the State Palace to wear a peci.

Habibie later apologized personally for Firman's treatment of the photographer.

Habibie also had the habit of hugging and kissing (on the cheek) everyone he greeted -- ministers, advisers, close friends.

Suddenly -- like a herd of goats -- this habit spread across the country. Officials began kissing and hugging each other. The practice disappeared just as quickly as it appeared once Habibie left office in October 1999.

When Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono was elected president in October, he asked Cabinet members to sign political contracts promising to carry out their duties.

The ministers asked their subordinates to sign similar contracts.

When the President limited the use of air conditioners in offices and ordered officials to wear more casual attire as part of his energy conservation program, this new casual look was instantly all the vogue among officials.

Now government officials are competing with each other to switch off their air conditioners. TV reporters are invited into offices to see for themselves how diligent officials are at sweating for the sake of the country.

These temporary fashions come and go. Do officials do it just to please the boss, is it a public relations exercise or is it for the public good?

No matter the motive, we should be encouraged whenever officials show some political will.

The question now is who will be standard-bearer when the President declares he wants corruption stamped out within a month.