This inspiring event showcased the courageous work of one of our Indonesian JusticeMakers Fellows, Joan Patricia Walu Riwu Kaho (“Puput”). The film follows Puput as she defends a woman who experienced sexual assault, but was herself accused of a crime – adultery. Such systemic criminalisation of women is all too common in Indonesia and many other countries. The film captures Puput’s dedication and resilience, as well as those of our other Indonesian JusticeMakers Fellows, while underscoring the immense work still needed to achieve equal protection for women under the law. The film reminds us why we must keep fighting every day to advance access to justice for women and girls around the world.

Following the screening, IBJ hosted a panel discussion moderated by IBJ Founder, Karen Tse, with Puput herself sharing her thoughts on the film; Sandrine Giroud, President of the Geneva Bar Association; Atalanti Moquette, Founder of Giving Women; Caitlin Kraft-Buchman, Founder of Women at the Table; and Ratna Batara Munti from Komnas Perempuan. Panelists reflected on the importance of amplifying women’s voices in justice systems and advancing meaningful reform.

Overall, it was a memorable event that brought together thoughtful reflections and a shared commitment to advancing justice and equal protection for women and girls worldwide.

IBJ thanks The Video Consortium and the Skoll Foundation for their support in bringing this important film to life.

During this time, Diah heard that it was possible to have a child induced and born safely at 8 months
pregnant. Naïve about the dangers of this to her unborn child, but eager to start her business quickly
after suffering with a difficult pregnancy, Diah contacted the clinic offering these services. She was
informed that she would have to pay a fee of IDR 8,000,000 for the process. On 19th November, Diah
was picked up by a staff member and thought she was being taken to the clinic but was instead taken
to an apartment complex. Diah began to question why she was here instead of at the clinic that she
expected. Nevertheless, she wanted to go through with the induction and was given three pills to
begin the process. Shortly after Diah had ingested the pills, police arrived and raided the apartment.
Diah was arrested on illegal abortion charges despite explaining that she was trying to start an early
labour, and not abort her child.

Diah was taken to the police station where her contractions began and was moved to the police
hospital where she gave birth safely to a healthy baby. She was then detained for 5 days at Polda
Metro Jayadetention centre before IBJ affiliated lawers were informed of her case. Diah told IBJ
affiliated lawyers that during this period several people offered to adopt her baby, including a doctor,
despite her insisting that she wanted to keep the baby.

When IBJ affiliated lawyers took on Diah’s case they successfully secured her transfer from the
prison hospital to a safe house, where she is being held on bail but able to care for her baby. IBJ
affiliated lawyers continue to support Diah’s case and fight the charges against her.

*Name changed to protect the client’s identity.

Individuals living with HIV/AIDS in Indonesia often experience stigma and discrimination in almost every aspect of their lives, from the local communities and the government. These individuals are often mistreated, stigmatized, and denied their legal rights because of their HIV/AIDS status. Additionally, many individuals with HIV/AIDS are unaware of their legal rights and therefore are more susceptible to being discriminated against and facing unfair treatment within the criminal justice system. Furthermore, the communities are themselves ill prepared to aid individuals with HIV/AIDS in legal defense representation. This lack of resources makes it extremely difficult for these individuals to exercise the rights they are guaranteed under Indonesian law.

Mr. Hernowo provides legal services to people living with HIV/AIDS and conducts community legal empowerment sessions to educate the local community on their legal rights. To facilitate this education, Mr. Hernowo delivers brochures, booklets, posters and other promotional materials to members of the community. In addition to distributing legal education materials, Mr. Hernowo trains individual community members to increase understanding of the legal materials being distributed. These trainings allow them to act as quasi-paralegals to better assist the community in dealing with criminal defense matters. Lastly, Mr. Hernowo provides legal aid services through direct representation of individuals. Mr. Hernowo’s approach empowers individuals with HIV/AIDS to understand and enforce their rights better as well as providing direct legal representation for people with HIV/AIDS.

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.”

While studying law at the University of Indonesia, Ajeng Larasati attended an advocacy training session led by lawyers and legal activists from an emerging legal aid institute in Jakarta. She was impressed by their work. They were impressed by her enthusiasm and asked if she’d be interested to volunteer on an upcoming project.

That meeting was a few years ago. Today, Ajeng Larasati is an assistant manager at Lembaga Bantuan Hukum Masyarakat (Community Legal Aid Institute). As an assistant manager, she gives legal consultation, organzes advocacy networks between NGOs, and works extensively to empower communities to understand and stand up for their rights. The enthusiasm that led her to the institute continues to motivate her. In her words: “Many times, a simple thank you is more powerful than money.”

That unadorned faith in the power of human cooperation served as the inspiration for her JusticeMakers project. Through the Indonesian Criminal Procedure Code (Article 50-68), all accused persons have the right to know the charge, prepare a defense, and have legal representation. However, most people who are arrested are not aware of these rights. Consequentially, their rights are violated. Awareness, Larasati says, is not enough. “If you know you have rights, but don’t know how to claim them…it is not useful.”

Along wiith her colleagues LBH Masyarakat, Larasati has experience providing legal counseling for new pre-trial detainees at the Cipinang Detention Centre, but recognizes that it is difficult for any legal aid institute to be available for counseling at all times. For her project, Ajeng is doing what she does best: empowering the detainees to help themselves.

In the months to come, LBH Masyarakat will educate Tamping (convicted prisoners at the detention center who work at the offices as prison jobs) on the legal rights guaranteed to detainees by the Criminal Procedure Code. The Tamping, because they were once in the same position as those facing trial, understand the predicament of the unaware detainees. For the same reason, the detainees may be more receptive to their advice. Initially, LBH Masyarakat will aid in the consultation. But once the system becomes self-sustaining and LBH Masyarakat ensures that the Tamping are capable of explaining legal rights and assisting the detainees, LBH will reduce their involvement. The Tamping, once merely left to do office work, are now able to educate and empower the detainees to stand up for themselves and claim their rights as Indonesian citizens. Through the project, Indonesian prisoners help each other and help themselves, exchange knowledge, and share their common humanity. Because the project extends from Larasati to LBH to the Tamping to the detainees, most of the people the project helps will never meet the originator. But one day, should they meet her, a simple thank you will be enough.

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To hear Ajeng Larasati discuss the project in her own words,view the video at the beginning of this post.