By the Editorial Team of Infobank Media Group
There was a sense of almost indescribable relief within the national banking sector when the panel of judges at the Semarang Corruption Court acquitted former directors and division heads at three regional development banks (Bank DKI, Bank Jateng, and Bank BJB) in the PT Sri Rejeki Isman Tbk (Sritex) loan case.
They are former Bank BJB President Director Yuddy Renaldi, former Bank Jateng President Director Supriyatno, and Pujiono, a former Bank Jateng Director, as well as Suldiarta, former Head of the Corporate and Commercial Business Division at Bank Jateng.
Acquittals were also handed down to former Bank DKI Director Babay Parid Wazdi and Priagung Suprapto, a former Bank DKI Director. Additionally, Bank BJB’s Head of the Corporate Division, Dicky Syahbandinata, and Bank BJB’s Senior Executive Vice President of Business, Beny Riswandi, were all acquitted of corruption charges related to the disbursement of loans to Sritex.
The judge found that the default on the textile giant’s loan was not the result of reckless lending decisions, but rather the result of financial statement manipulation carried out deliberately by Sritex itself.
Note the judge’s reasoning regarding Yuddy Renaldi: “There is no evidence that the defendant abused his authority or position in approving the loan application. The defendant had no intent to violate the law.” This formulation is an acquittal in its purest sense: the facts do not prove guilt, and therein lies justice.
But what is more interesting about this verdict is not merely the legal facts. What is more interesting is what the Public Prosecutor (JPU) cannot do once this verdict becomes final—a fundamental change brought about by the new Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP), which takes effect on January 1, 2026.
Under the new KUHAP—officially Law No. 20 of 2025—the structure of our criminal procedure law has undergone a shift that deserves attention from anyone involved in economics and public policy. Article 299(2)(a) explicitly states that an appeal cannot be filed against an acquittal. Period. No exceptions.
This is not merely a redaction change. For over four decades under the old Criminal Procedure Code (Law No. 8 of 1981), prosecutors had a sort of “legal loophole” known as the doctrine of niet zuivere vrijspraak or “non-pure acquittal.”
They argued that the judge’s verdict was not a pure acquittal, but rather contained an error in the application of the rules of evidence—thereby allowing an appeal to the Supreme Court to proceed. The Supreme Court, which should function as a judex juris (judge of law), was forced to act as a judex facti (judge of fact)—a legal distortion that can only be understood within the context of the New Order’s legal politics, which placed executive power above all else.
The new Criminal Procedure Code completely closes that loophole. There are no longer any appeals to the Supreme Court. There is no longer such a thing as “conditional acquittal.” As emphasized by Albert Aries, a criminal law expert at Trisakti University, this provision is unequivocal and applies to all types of criminal offenses without exception, including corruption. The debate regarding the classification of “unconditional acquittal” versus “conditional acquittal” is no longer relevant.
This restriction is no coincidence. The lawmakers appear to be aware that the old practice had created uncertainty that harmed not only the defendants but also the overall economic climate. The division of labor between the judex facti (District Courts and High Courts assessing the facts) and the judex juris (the Supreme Court assessing the application of the law) has finally been restored to its proper course.
Legal certainty is an economic calculation. For a banker, an acquittal by the Semarang Corruption Court carries greater weight than a mere declaration of innocence. That verdict is an institutional signal: that as long as credit decisions are made based on the principle of prudence and the standard 5C analysis (character, capacity, capital, collateral, condition), the risk of credit failure—which is inherent in every business decision—cannot automatically be criminalized.
Note the statement by Babay Parid Wazdi’s legal counsel, Dody Abdulkadir: “The acquittal (vrijspraak) is the right decision, providing certainty to bankers who have carried out their duties as credit decision-makers in accordance with the principle of prudence.”
He even remarked that “apparently there are still judges who possess a conscience and the courage to uphold justice.” This final statement is no empty praise—it contains a bitter irony about how rare such courage is in our judicial practice.
It is here that the political-economic dimension of the new Criminal Procedure Code finds its most concrete relevance. Criminal procedure law is not merely a technical legal matter understood only by judges and prosecutors. It is part of the institutional infrastructure that shapes the expectations of economic actors.
When a banker cannot distinguish between a failed business decision and an act of corruption, the result is defensive lending—credit flows only to sectors that are “politically safe,” not to those that are economically productive. The inefficiency in capital allocation is the price that must be paid.
The business community has welcomed the new Criminal Procedure Code with cautious optimism. Sartono, Managing Partner at Dentons HPRP, notes, “The issue of legal certainty is closely tied to the business world. When the government seeks to encourage investment, one of the main concerns investors always raise is legal certainty.” The new Criminal Procedure Code strengthens the rights of suspects and defendants, updates investigation and prosecution mechanisms, and clarifies corporate criminal liability.
However, a critical observation has emerged: legal certainty cannot rely solely on the text of regulations. To borrow a phrase from Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., “The life of the law has not been logic, it has been experience.” In the corporate sphere, it is institutional experience that will determine the substance of these changes. If law enforcement officials continue to seek loopholes to disregard the spirit of the appeal restrictions—for example, by exploiting transitional provisions or employing forced interpretations—then the text of the law will hold little meaning.
The Sritex verdict may serve as a test. The Sritex case presents an intriguing test. Will the Attorney General’s Office respect the new framework of the Criminal Procedure Code—where an acquittal by the High Court is final and cannot be appealed—or will it seek a workaround?
The statement by the Head of the Attorney General’s Office Legal Information Center that the Public Prosecutor’s Office will “first thoroughly review the contents of the verdict” is diplomatic language that leaves many possibilities open. We recall how, in the case of Delpedro Marhaen and others in March 2026, the Attorney General’s Office still pushed for an appeal against the acquittal, citing transitional provisions and the old Criminal Procedure Code.
That move drew sharp criticism from the House of Representatives’ Commission III. Commission III member Hinca Panjaitan emphasized that the new Criminal Procedure Code clearly prohibits appeals against acquittals, adding that in the event of a discrepancy in interpretation between the old and new Criminal Procedure Codes, the principle that must be applied is the rule that is most lenient toward the defendant (lex mitior).
Coordinating Minister for Law, Human Rights, Immigration, and Corrections Yusril Ihza Mahendra has also reminded that under the new Criminal Procedure Code, an acquittal cannot be subject to any legal action by the prosecutor, including an appeal to the Supreme Court. He even noted that there is a legal principle stating that if there is a change in the law, the law that is most favorable to the defendant must be applied.
The tension between the Attorney General’s Office and the spirit of the new Criminal Procedure Code is a political drama that warrants close attention. On one hand, there is an institutional design aimed at strengthening due process of law. On the other hand, there is an institutional culture accustomed to treating the law as an instrument of power. The struggle between the two will determine whether the new Criminal Procedure Code truly becomes a milestone in legal reform, or merely a document ignored in practice.
From a broader perspective, the new Criminal Procedure Code is part of a project to modernize Indonesia’s criminal justice system, which also includes a new Criminal Code. This reform package marks a paradigm shift from a punitive (punishment-oriented) approach toward restorative, corrective, and rehabilitative approaches. Its focus is no longer solely on punishment, but also on restoration and rehabilitation.
For many political economists, this shift has implications that extend far beyond the courtroom. Criminal procedure law that provides certainty regarding when a person is truly “free” is a prerequisite for the functioning of markets. Without such certainty, the risk of criminal prosecution will always loom over every economic decision, and the cost of that risk is ultimately borne by society in the form of higher borrowing costs, delayed projects, and investments flowing to other jurisdictions.
There is an irony worth pondering. The BPD bankers were acquitted because the judge found that the true fault lay in the manipulation of financial reports by the debtors—the very parties who were handed down harsh sentences: Iwan Setiawan Lukminto received 14 years in prison, and Zainuddin Mappa (for accepting bribes) received 6 years in prison. The prosecutor had previously sought sentences of 6 to 10 years in prison for these bankers.
The discrepancy between the prosecution’s demands and the court’s ruling is not merely a matter of prosecutorial strategy; it reflects an outdated paradigm that views business failures solely through a criminal lens, without distinguishing between actual criminals and decision-makers who carried out their duties procedurally.
The new Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP), by limiting extraordinary legal remedies against acquittals, is effectively restoring that sense of reason.
We should note that the enactment of the new KUHAP is not merely a victory for legal technocracy. It is the product of a long political struggle—between those who sought the criminal justice system as an instrument of control, and those who fought for due process and the protection of individual rights.
The old Criminal Procedure Code, which endured for over 40 years, was a product of the New Order regime that prioritized repressive efficiency over procedural justice. The fact that only now do we have a Criminal Procedure Code that limits the prosecutor’s authority to file an appeal against an acquittal shows just how long the road to reform has been.
The question remains: Can the Attorney General’s Office adapt to this new spirit? Will they respect the boundaries set by the new Criminal Procedure Code, or will they instead seek new loopholes to cling to their eroding power?
The history of reform in this country teaches us that good laws on paper do not automatically lead to good practices on the ground. But at least, for the first time in four decades, we have a legal framework to compel law enforcement officials to respect acquittals. That is no small victory. It is the foundation for the rule of law, which has long been nothing more than a slogan in officials’ speeches.
I am reminded of the words of an institutional economist, Douglass North: “Institutions are the rules of the game in a society.” The new Criminal Procedure Code changes the rules of the game. But the real game has only just begun—and, of course, it must be played using the new Criminal Procedure Code without exception.
All parties must respect the implementation of the new Criminal Procedure Code for the sake of legal certainty.
Acquittal in the Sritex Loan Case: Legal Certainty Under the New Criminal Procedure Code
By the Editorial Team of Infobank Media Group
There was a sense of almost indescribable relief within the national banking sector when the panel of judges at the Semarang Corruption Court acquitted former directors and division heads at three regional development banks (Bank DKI, Bank Jateng, and Bank BJB) in the PT Sri Rejeki Isman Tbk (Sritex) loan case.
They are former Bank BJB President Director Yuddy Renaldi, former Bank Jateng President Director Supriyatno, and Pujiono, a former Bank Jateng Director, as well as Suldiarta, former Head of the Corporate and Commercial Business Division at Bank Jateng.
Acquittals were also handed down to former Bank DKI Director Babay Parid Wazdi and Priagung Suprapto, a former Bank DKI Director. Additionally, Bank BJB’s Head of the Corporate Division, Dicky Syahbandinata, and Bank BJB’s Senior Executive Vice President of Business, Beny Riswandi, were all acquitted of corruption charges related to the disbursement of loans to Sritex.
The judge found that the default on the textile giant’s loan was not the result of reckless lending decisions, but rather the result of financial statement manipulation carried out deliberately by Sritex itself.
Note the judge’s reasoning regarding Yuddy Renaldi: “There is no evidence that the defendant abused his authority or position in approving the loan application. The defendant had no intent to violate the law.” This formulation is an acquittal in its purest sense: the facts do not prove guilt, and therein lies justice.
But what is more interesting about this verdict is not merely the legal facts. What is more interesting is what the Public Prosecutor (JPU) cannot do once this verdict becomes final—a fundamental change brought about by the new Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP), which takes effect on January 1, 2026.
Under the new KUHAP—officially Law No. 20 of 2025—the structure of our criminal procedure law has undergone a shift that deserves attention from anyone involved in economics and public policy. Article 299(2)(a) explicitly states that an appeal cannot be filed against an acquittal. Period. No exceptions.
This is not merely a redaction change. For over four decades under the old Criminal Procedure Code (Law No. 8 of 1981), prosecutors had a sort of “legal loophole” known as the doctrine of niet zuivere vrijspraak or “non-pure acquittal.”
They argued that the judge’s verdict was not a pure acquittal, but rather contained an error in the application of the rules of evidence—thereby allowing an appeal to the Supreme Court to proceed. The Supreme Court, which should function as a judex juris (judge of law), was forced to act as a judex facti (judge of fact)—a legal distortion that can only be understood within the context of the New Order’s legal politics, which placed executive power above all else.
The new Criminal Procedure Code completely closes that loophole. There are no longer any appeals to the Supreme Court. There is no longer such a thing as “conditional acquittal.” As emphasized by Albert Aries, a criminal law expert at Trisakti University, this provision is unequivocal and applies to all types of criminal offenses without exception, including corruption. The debate regarding the classification of “unconditional acquittal” versus “conditional acquittal” is no longer relevant.
This restriction is no coincidence. The lawmakers appear to be aware that the old practice had created uncertainty that harmed not only the defendants but also the overall economic climate. The division of labor between the judex facti (District Courts and High Courts assessing the facts) and the judex juris (the Supreme Court assessing the application of the law) has finally been restored to its proper course.
Legal certainty is an economic calculation. For a banker, an acquittal by the Semarang Corruption Court carries greater weight than a mere declaration of innocence. That verdict is an institutional signal: that as long as credit decisions are made based on the principle of prudence and the standard 5C analysis (character, capacity, capital, collateral, condition), the risk of credit failure—which is inherent in every business decision—cannot automatically be criminalized.
Note the statement by Babay Parid Wazdi’s legal counsel, Dody Abdulkadir: “The acquittal (vrijspraak) is the right decision, providing certainty to bankers who have carried out their duties as credit decision-makers in accordance with the principle of prudence.”
He even remarked that “apparently there are still judges who possess a conscience and the courage to uphold justice.” This final statement is no empty praise—it contains a bitter irony about how rare such courage is in our judicial practice.
It is here that the political-economic dimension of the new Criminal Procedure Code finds its most concrete relevance. Criminal procedure law is not merely a technical legal matter understood only by judges and prosecutors. It is part of the institutional infrastructure that shapes the expectations of economic actors.
When a banker cannot distinguish between a failed business decision and an act of corruption, the result is defensive lending—credit flows only to sectors that are “politically safe,” not to those that are economically productive. The inefficiency in capital allocation is the price that must be paid.
The business community has welcomed the new Criminal Procedure Code with cautious optimism. Sartono, Managing Partner at Dentons HPRP, notes, “The issue of legal certainty is closely tied to the business world. When the government seeks to encourage investment, one of the main concerns investors always raise is legal certainty.” The new Criminal Procedure Code strengthens the rights of suspects and defendants, updates investigation and prosecution mechanisms, and clarifies corporate criminal liability.
However, a critical observation has emerged: legal certainty cannot rely solely on the text of regulations. To borrow a phrase from Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., “The life of the law has not been logic, it has been experience.” In the corporate sphere, it is institutional experience that will determine the substance of these changes. If law enforcement officials continue to seek loopholes to disregard the spirit of the appeal restrictions—for example, by exploiting transitional provisions or employing forced interpretations—then the text of the law will hold little meaning.
The Sritex verdict may serve as a test. The Sritex case presents an intriguing test. Will the Attorney General’s Office respect the new framework of the Criminal Procedure Code—where an acquittal by the High Court is final and cannot be appealed—or will it seek a workaround?
The statement by the Head of the Attorney General’s Office Legal Information Center that the Public Prosecutor’s Office will “first thoroughly review the contents of the verdict” is diplomatic language that leaves many possibilities open. We recall how, in the case of Delpedro Marhaen and others in March 2026, the Attorney General’s Office still pushed for an appeal against the acquittal, citing transitional provisions and the old Criminal Procedure Code.
That move drew sharp criticism from the House of Representatives’ Commission III. Commission III member Hinca Panjaitan emphasized that the new Criminal Procedure Code clearly prohibits appeals against acquittals, adding that in the event of a discrepancy in interpretation between the old and new Criminal Procedure Codes, the principle that must be applied is the rule that is most lenient toward the defendant (lex mitior).
Coordinating Minister for Law, Human Rights, Immigration, and Corrections Yusril Ihza Mahendra has also reminded that under the new Criminal Procedure Code, an acquittal cannot be subject to any legal action by the prosecutor, including an appeal to the Supreme Court. He even noted that there is a legal principle stating that if there is a change in the law, the law that is most favorable to the defendant must be applied.
The tension between the Attorney General’s Office and the spirit of the new Criminal Procedure Code is a political drama that warrants close attention. On one hand, there is an institutional design aimed at strengthening due process of law. On the other hand, there is an institutional culture accustomed to treating the law as an instrument of power. The struggle between the two will determine whether the new Criminal Procedure Code truly becomes a milestone in legal reform, or merely a document ignored in practice.
From a broader perspective, the new Criminal Procedure Code is part of a project to modernize Indonesia’s criminal justice system, which also includes a new Criminal Code. This reform package marks a paradigm shift from a punitive (punishment-oriented) approach toward restorative, corrective, and rehabilitative approaches. Its focus is no longer solely on punishment, but also on restoration and rehabilitation.
For many political economists, this shift has implications that extend far beyond the courtroom. Criminal procedure law that provides certainty regarding when a person is truly “free” is a prerequisite for the functioning of markets. Without such certainty, the risk of criminal prosecution will always loom over every economic decision, and the cost of that risk is ultimately borne by society in the form of higher borrowing costs, delayed projects, and investments flowing to other jurisdictions.
There is an irony worth pondering. The BPD bankers were acquitted because the judge found that the true fault lay in the manipulation of financial reports by the debtors—the very parties who were handed down harsh sentences: Iwan Setiawan Lukminto received 14 years in prison, and Zainuddin Mappa (for accepting bribes) received 6 years in prison. The prosecutor had previously sought sentences of 6 to 10 years in prison for these bankers.
The discrepancy between the prosecution’s demands and the court’s ruling is not merely a matter of prosecutorial strategy; it reflects an outdated paradigm that views business failures solely through a criminal lens, without distinguishing between actual criminals and decision-makers who carried out their duties procedurally.
The new Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP), by limiting extraordinary legal remedies against acquittals, is effectively restoring that sense of reason.
We should note that the enactment of the new KUHAP is not merely a victory for legal technocracy. It is the product of a long political struggle—between those who sought the criminal justice system as an instrument of control, and those who fought for due process and the protection of individual rights.
The old Criminal Procedure Code, which endured for over 40 years, was a product of the New Order regime that prioritized repressive efficiency over procedural justice. The fact that only now do we have a Criminal Procedure Code that limits the prosecutor’s authority to file an appeal against an acquittal shows just how long the road to reform has been.
The question remains: Can the Attorney General’s Office adapt to this new spirit? Will they respect the boundaries set by the new Criminal Procedure Code, or will they instead seek new loopholes to cling to their eroding power?
The history of reform in this country teaches us that good laws on paper do not automatically lead to good practices on the ground. But at least, for the first time in four decades, we have a legal framework to compel law enforcement officials to respect acquittals. That is no small victory. It is the foundation for the rule of law, which has long been nothing more than a slogan in officials’ speeches.
I am reminded of the words of an institutional economist, Douglass North: “Institutions are the rules of the game in a society.” The new Criminal Procedure Code changes the rules of the game. But the real game has only just begun—and, of course, it must be played using the new Criminal Procedure Code without exception.
All parties must respect the implementation of the new Criminal Procedure Code for the sake of legal certainty.
