Cipinang Detention Center, Jakarta. Without a word, the detainees of Cipinang detention center enter the large meeting room and take their places seated in rows on the floor. They have come to receive counseling on their legal rights. Much of the early processing of detainees awaiting trial occurs seated on the tiled floor of the center. They sit on the floor to have their heads shaved on entry, and spend most of their time seated on the floors of their cells. In this way, they are subtly distinguished from the staff or visitors, who are given seats. As the detainees sit, however, the lawyers and activists of LBH Masyarakat vacate their seats when the prisoners enter and join the detainees on the floor. All eyes are on Ajeng Larasati, an LBH Masarakat Assistant director and Justice Makers fellow, as she begins her lecture.

Once a month, LBH Masyarakat provides counseling to new detainees at Cipinang to inform them of their legal rights. Throughout the arrest and investigation process, detainees may be asked to pay bribes or will be discouraged from obtaining a lawyer, fearing that it will only waste time and money. LBH Masyarakat’s counseling focuses on dispelling these illusions. Likewise, detainees often don’t understand that the only statement the judges will consider are the ones made in court, allowing them to set the record straight if they were coerced into a false confession during the investigation.

After the initial training, LBH Masyarakat members make themselves available for one-on-one counseling with the detainees. At this point, more than half of the group leaves. Larasati explained, “For some of them, it’s because they already have a lawyer. But a lot of them have just decided to give up and go with whatever the prosecutor says.” Those the remain, though, take the opportunity to speak with a legal expert very seriously. For the first time during my stay in Indonesia, nobody pays any attention to the presence of foreigners; each small group of detainees is focused on the counselors.

From the perspective of the LBH Masyarakat staff, the information is nothing new. Most detainees ask the same questions or have the same problems. “Often, they don’t understand what they are charged with,” Larasati said. It is often the first time they’ve heard about the court process. “Most Indonesians don’t understand the law,” said Larasati, “Even with the rich and well educated, there’s no guarantee that they’ll know their rights. The common people don’t believe in the law anymore.” This view was echoed by a detainee who claimed the law didn’t matter as long as you’re able to pay bribes.

The pervasiveness of this belief, and the poor understanding of the law, has reflected poorly on lawyers. “People associate lawyers with organized crime,” explained Larasti. She said the public speaks about the law as if it were a kind of magic, and of a conflict between “Black lawyers” who take bribes and “White lawyers” who do not. “That’s why we never give or take bribes,” Larasati added.

Even with that reputation, these detainees trust Larasati and the other counselors enough to seek detailed advice. One detainee I interviewed, who asked not to be named, brings in his charge slip to have Larasati explain its meaning. Larasati, with her bible-like book of criminal statutes opened on the floor, patiently explains the charges against him. Talking to him afterward, the detainee said he “felt calmed” by his new knowledge, but was “still nervous and confused” because he had no way of knowing how long he would be held before his trial. Larasati told me that, if he wants, LBH Masyarakat may go on to represent him in court.

Though the knowledge and explanation Larasati provides certainly has an effect in itself, it’s real power is in application in court. “There is one case I remember, a man was charged with possession [of illegal drugs]. He was also HIV positive.” In Indonesia, non-violent drug addicts are entitled to serve their sentence in a rehabilitation facility if they can prove that they are seriously chemically addicts. Because of information campaigns by groups like LBH Masyarakat, “Most of the drug addictsknow they have the right to go to rehab,” Larasati said, “but they don’t know how to claim it.” Two weeks after counseling, the defendant’s family came to Larasati and asked for her help to get him into rehabilitation. Ultimately, Larasati able to get him into a year-long rehabilitation program, instead of a 20-year prison sentence. Out of more than 20,000 convicted drug users in Jakarta, only nine last year were assigned to a drug rehabilitation clinic. Two of those were LBH Masyarakat clients

It is these kinds of success stories that Larasati hopes to make more common by formally training Tamping, convicted prisoners who are serving out their sentences by working in the detention center. Though they are currently relegated to clerical duties or basic detainee management, Larasati believes that, if trained, they could make information about legal rights ubiquitous among detainees, and provide counseling more often than LBH Masyarakat’s monthly visits. Also, because they are ‘insiders’ who were once detainees themselves, the tamping may be able to reach detainees who don’t have enough faith in the law to reach out to lawyers.

Right now, the tamping’s only involvement is as time keeper for the counseling session. And time is up. The detainees, in small groups around LBH Masyarakat staff, thank their counselors and line up to return to their cells. LBH Masyarakat will return next month to meet a new group of incoming detainees. But the walls of the detention center to not constrain the movement of knowledge. Before lining up, some of the detainees ask Larasati for more pamphlets, to teach those that didn’t attend about how to claim their rights. In the face of a legal system that demands bribes, uses force and tells the detainees to not seek legal assistance, these, at least, have not given up.

Photos by Mar Costa

Photo and Video by Mar Costa

 JAKARTA. On Mondays, the lawyers and organizers of Lembaga Bantuan Hukum (LBH) Masyarakat gather in the meeting room of their small office to divide up the week’s work. This week, they will set up meetings with the heads of three or four different marginalized communities to set up new training seminars. They will accompany clients to court, and ensure they are given due process. They will visit detention centers to provide legal counseling to detainees, teach at-risk youth in poor areas and relentlessly recruit Indonesia’s brightest and most enthusiastic legal students to continue their work. In a city as large and as beset by injustice and corruption as Jakarta, LBH Masyarakat seems to be wasting no time fighting the injustices where they can. And with the innovation and energy of a young start-up, they are getting results.

A Novel Approach

To date, LBH Masyarakat has trained 41 paralegals among four marginalized communities, such as Jakarta’s drug-user communities and the communities victimized by torture in the Suharto era. They aim for their trainees to provide what Program Director Ricky Gunawan calls “legal first aid,” acting as the first line of response for the accused. Soon, they will also serve Jakarta’s HIV positive community, the LGBT community, and sex-workers.

“The hardest part is finding communities and getting into the communities. At first, most are not open to us,” says Gunawan. But often, once the communities open up to LBH Masyarakat, it is the families and community members that ask for more support. “One of our communities was the victims of human rights abuses [under Suharto.] We were providing information about torture, but the mothers of the community wanted us to focus on the youth population, [many of whom] were running with gangs and getting into trouble.

“Unlike other legal aid communities, for LBH Masyarakat, legal empowerment is more than just providing information and training.. “For us,” Gunawan says, “the heart of empowerment is getting them involved in the advocacy process. We need to get them to trust us, and to trust themselves.” Using a psychological model called “Appreciative Inquiry,” LBH Masyarakat community organizers encourage their trainees to affirm their potential and recognize their personal strengths instead of focusing on obstacles.

Likewise, LBH Masyarakat has been successful by fitting their teaching methods to the needs of each community. “Powerpoints did not work well for the younger communities. Many found the legal training process tiring. But we did find that they enjoyed going places and learning by doing. So, we took them to detention centers. Then, they raised their own questions about what is this and that,” Gunawan said.

The Enthusiasm Factory

LBH Masyarakat’s rapid expansion is unusual for such a young program. The center has been open for only two years. When LBH Masyarakat first opened its doors, it had only three full time staff members, and no financial support. For six months, Gunawan worked as a translator to fund his work organizing communities and providing legal counsel, while the other director, Dhoho Ali Sastro, worked as a consultant. Today, LBH Masyarakat has eight full-time legal staff.

But they are also young in terms of their staff members. “It is not common to have people this young working at an institute like this. Most at other legal aid centers are between 28-35. Nearly all of ours are below 26,” Gunawan said. While other legal aid institutes would only take volunteers with at least four years of university training, LBH Masyarakat takes first-years. As a result, they’ve both attracted and developed new talent more quickly than more established legal aid offices.”Often, other organizations will say we don’t have experience. But they don’t have any new staff,” says Gunawan, “We are known as a factory of students, because we recruit so actively.” Often, some of LBH Masyarakat’s biggest projects come from the ideas of these recruits. The school for poor and at-risk youth that LBH Masyarakat runs out of a bus station in Depok was discovered and set up by a n intern who was only in his first year of university.

With their focus on community empowerment and active recruiting, LBH Masyarakat has dramatically extended the reach of their advocacy and aid. They are beginning to be seen as leaders in the fight for human rights in Indonesia, and increasingly travel to present their work at international human rights conferences. Gunawan is confident their growth and success has only just begun. “We have the new leaders in the field. It’s like Germany in the World Cup. Because their players are young, they will be even better in four years.”