The Republic's Love Letters to Its Children

Love, it is said, is recognised not by words but by the sacrifices one willingly makes. In matters of state, love is measured similarly. It is visible in who is given ease, who is forgiven, and who is asked to understand the situation. In 2026, the Republic wrote two love letters.

The first letter was sent to the first-born child, a patriot of the deepest red and white. Its language was warm, full of appreciation, and almost romantic. The first child, like a masterpiece in Law Number 4 of 2026, resembles a card painted with bars and the word ‘free’ in a board game. The first child’s friends are wealthy, willing to lend money with small returns. The Republic was touched and agreed to provide protection from civil lawsuits, taxes, and criminal charges.

The second letter was addressed to the second child, still striving to earn a living, with micro capital, hoping to grow from small to medium. The tone of the letter is more akin to the fate of the sandwich generation. An appeal from the parent for the child to work harder, be patient longer, and not forget to pay dues to the parent. The Republic’s affection for the second child and their fellow strugglers is seen in Government Regulation Number 20 of 2026. The half-percent final income tax facility is now permanent, subject to applicable terms and conditions. Not all are treated equally and are applied differently.

Here the story becomes interesting. Previously, the second child’s source of income did not matter. Now it is different; everything depends on the type of work. A second child’s friend who is a trader and another who is a translator, with the same income, pay different amounts. One only needs to pay half a percent, while the other pays eleven percent and must still bother with bookkeeping. Apparently, a syllabus is now needed so that the second child and their friends remain considered as they are, with nothing more expected of them.

Yet the principle of ‘taxation without representation is robbery’ remains the same, from the beginning only asking ‘how much’ not ‘from where’. What it pursues is the magnitude of one’s ability, not the manner of acquiring it. But what can be said, the implementing regulation decided differently. A little discriminatory indeed, but what else can be done, it is said there is a need to safeguard state money. Richard Musgrave called this horizontal equity, meaning those in the same economic circumstances should be treated equally. The principle of tax neutrality echoes this, that taxes are not instituted to encourage or punish specific economic activities without strong justification.

So, what is the reason, then? To differentiate between a trader and a translator? Using Rawls’s approach, it can indeed be answered that not everyone must be treated identically. But remember, Rawls’s continuation actually demands that differential treatment must favour the less fortunate. Meanwhile, the trader and the translator are both small; why then is it the first child who receives protection? Tragic.

Most importantly, the first child is now safe, capital remains in hand, and the stomach is full. The second child is still thinking about what to eat tomorrow, how long the money in hand will last, and still has to be chased for debt by the state. Does it end here? The next stage is the second child giving to the first. A risk: the promised small interest may not be paid, it has not necessarily happened, but it could. The first child does not yet have the ability to pay. Perhaps, like a snippet of an old song familiar to the ear, they are just digging a hole to cover another hole. The first child’s assets still largely depend on the state. If one day the obligation arrives faster than the ability to pay, who will bear the difference? As usual, it is the second child.

One party is asked to pay more, the other is paid and simultaneously forgiven. Thus the circle becomes almost cruel. The second child finances the interest for those who are precisely exempted from the obligation to finance the state. The second child and their friends pay, so that the first child and their friends who do not pay actually receive payment. Is this loyalty? No. This is slavery.

The Republic is beginning to forget the meaning of a shared home. The first-born child, the red-and-white patriot, is indeed clever at taking a position. It is not entirely monetary, for it does not control inflation, exchange rates, or interest rates. It is also not entirely fiscal, for the funds it collects do not appear as state revenue like taxes. It lives in the territory between the two, a space comfortable enough to enjoy financial benefits with state facilities without the accompanying obligations. The second child is the opposite. Their hard work seems never enough for the Republic. To ensure every rupiah of their income can be accounted for, the state is willing to increase law enforcement budgets and expand surveillance.

Thus emerges a question of wry irony: who exactly is being sought? For only one is already safe. There is truth in the Latin phrase pecunia non olet, that money does not smell. The first child and their friends are permitted, regardless of where the money came from. Not an accusation, but with the existence of legal protection, can one be punished if the money originated from a crime? Conversely, Fiat pecunia cum honestate, money must be obtained with honesty. For the second child, is it possible to also be given such facilities so that it is fair and not discriminatory based on the type of business?

There is one thing often forgotten about the word republic. It comes from res publica, meaning public affair and common property. In its oldest meaning, a republic is a home owned by all children, not the private property of the favourite child. When a parent grants one child immunity from the rules of its own house, that house slowly transforms into res privata, private property.