Is Social Justice Just? (6)

Corruption fundamentally violates human rights in several critical ways. Firstly, corruption undermines the rule of law, which is a cornerstone for the protection and guarantee of human rights. When public officials engage in bribery, embezzlement, or favouritism, essential state resources are diverted away from public services such as healthcare, education, and social security. This diversion directly impacts the economic, social, and cultural rights of citizens, particularly the most vulnerable groups who depend on these services for their survival and dignity. Secondly, corruption erodes public trust in governmental institutions, including the judiciary and law enforcement agencies, weakening the mechanisms designed to uphold human rights. For example, a corrupt judge or police officer may deny fair trial rights or liberty, violating civil and political rights directly. Moreover, systemic corruption creates conditions conducive to widespread human rights abuses by enabling discrimination, arbitrary restrictions, and lack of accountability. It also suppresses freedoms critical to combating corruption itself, such as freedom of the press, access to information, and the right to peaceful assembly. Finally, international and regional human rights bodies acknowledge corruption as both a cause and a manifestation of human rights violations, advocating for a human rights-based approach in anti-corruption efforts. Thus, corruption is not merely an administrative or economic issue but a profound human rights violation that impairs dignity, equality, and justice.

Corruption severely affects the right to health and education by undermining the accessibility, quality, and equity of these essential services. In the health sector, corruption often manifests as bribery, embezzlement, and misallocation of resources, which leads to shortages of medicines, medical supplies, and staff salaries. This situation directly results in reduced access to medical treatment, increased child mortality, and lower life expectancy. For instance, people may be forced to pay bribes to receive proper care, or health facilities may be left with inadequate supplies, making it difficult for vulnerable populations such as children and the poor to get essential services. Similarly, corruption in education appears through practices like ghost teachers on payrolls, diversion of funds meant for schools, and sexual exploitation, which diminish the quality of education and increase dropout rates. These corrupt practices create barriers to equal access and reduce the state's ability to fulfil its obligation to provide quality education and healthcare. The consequences disproportionately impact marginalised groups, including women, children, people with disabilities, and those living in poverty, thereby deepening inequality and infringing on their human rights to health and education.

Corruption that negatively impacts the right to health and education also fundamentally violates the principle of social justice. Social justice demands fair and equitable treatment of all members of society, ensuring that resources and opportunities, especially in essential sectors like health and education, are distributed based on need and without discrimination. When corruption infiltrates these services, it creates unequal access that privileges the wealthy or powerful who can pay bribes, while excluding the poor and marginalised. This corruption-induced inequality not only widens the gap between different social groups but also perpetuates poverty and social exclusion. For example, in corrupted health systems, the misallocation of funds leads to shortages of medicines and medical staff, disproportionately harming disadvantaged populations who rely heavily on public healthcare. Similarly, in education, corruption may manifest through ghost teachers or diverted funding, resulting in inferior educational quality and opportunities, predominantly affecting children from low-income families. Such systemic injustices erode public trust in government institutions and undermine the state's obligation to guarantee equitable social rights. Ultimately, corruption deepens social disparities, undermining social cohesion and the broader goals of justice and equality within society.

Human rights and social justice are deeply interconnected concepts that together form the foundation of a fair and equitable society. Human rights are the basic rights and freedoms that belong to every individual simply by virtue of being human. These rights encompass civil and political rights, such as freedom of expression and the right to vote, as well as economic, social, and cultural rights, including access to education, healthcare, and an adequate standard of living. Social justice, on the other hand, focuses on the fair distribution of resources, opportunities, and privileges within a society. It strives to address systemic inequalities and ensure that all individuals, particularly those who are marginalised and vulnerable, have equitable access to these rights and resources.

The relationship between human rights and social justice lies in their shared goal of promoting dignity, equality, and fairness. Human rights provide the legal and moral framework that guarantees individuals’ freedoms and protections. Social justice operationalises these rights by seeking to remove barriers such as discrimination, poverty, and exclusion that prevent people from fully enjoying their human rights. Without social justice, human rights remain theoretical ideals that many cannot access in reality due to social and economic inequalities. Conversely, human rights principles strengthen social justice movements by providing recognized standards that societies must uphold. Together, they strive to create inclusive societies where everyone can participate, thrive, and have their rights respected.

"The Idea of Human Rights" by Charles R. Beitz (2009, Oxford University Press) offers a compelling theoretical examination of the central concept of a human right, moving away from conventional philosophical studies to adopt a practical approach. Beitz meticulously explores the history and political practice of human rights to truly understand their core idea.

Beitz argues that the formal, institutional practice, as we know it today, is a direct outcome of the political and legal settlements that followed World War II. This post-war consensus formally adopted the idea that a state's treatment of its own citizens is no longer a matter of exclusive domestic jurisdiction, but is rather an issue of legitimate international concern, an idea explicitly incorporated into the United Nations Charter.

Crucially, this new practice was definitively crystallised with the adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) in 1948.

However, Beitz is keen to establish a distinction: while the practice is post-war, the central idea of human rights has a long and significant prehistory. He notes that before the UDHR, there were historical measures by which states had already limited their own sovereign authority in favour of protecting individual interests, effectively placing certain domestic matters under a form of international supervision. Moreover, a transnational human rights movement (such as the proliferation of "Leagues for the rights of man" and the establishment of the Fédération Internationale des Droits de l'Homme) had been actively developing since the inter-war period, spurred in part by the failure of the League of Nations Covenant to include sufficient human rights protections.

Therefore, Beitz views the modern practice as a profound shift: the institutionalisation of a pre-existing moral and political ideal into a comprehensive global public project.

When examining the crucial aspects of human rights that need serious attention, Beitz highlights several critical issues, particularly regarding the challenges inherent in the practical implementation and long-term legitimacy of the human rights regime.

Firstly, Beitz underscores the significant problem of Scepticism surrounding the entire human rights enterprise, a major component of which is the fear that the human rights discourse may be exploited by powerful states to advance their own national interests rather than genuinely protecting individuals. This concern casts a shadow over the moral integrity of international intervention and humanitarian action. Secondly, he draws attention to the systemic issue of Double Standards within the practice, where certain states may vigorously challenge the human rights records of others while simultaneously exhibiting profound failures or hypocrisies regarding their own domestic or foreign policies, thereby severely undermining the moral authority of the global human rights movement. Furthermore, Beitz identifies a critical deficiency in the area of Accountability and Effective Implementation, noting the recurrent and troubling gap between the robust normative promises enshrined in international treaties and the inconsistent, often inadequate enforcement mechanisms on the ground, which allows many egregious violations to go unpunished. He concludes that resolving these inherent vulnerabilities, which he terms 'pathologies,' ultimately necessitates stronger and more collaborative international action to ensure that the human rights practice can fulfil its stated purpose of protecting all individuals across the globe.

"Human Rights: A Very Short Introduction" by Andrew Clapham (2007, Oxford University Press) define Human rights as, fundamentally, inherent moral entitlements that belong to every single person simply by virtue of being human, universally applicable regardless of nationality, sex, ethnic origin, colour, religion, language, or any other status. These rights are commonly grounded in the principle of equal human dignity and include a wide spectrum of protections, such as the right to life, freedom from torture and slavery, freedom of opinion and expression, and the right to work and education.

Contemporary problems are frequently expressed as human rights issues because framing an injustice in this manner imbues the demand for remedy with a specific moral and legal authority. When an issue—whether it is climate change, poverty, discrimination, or arbitrary detention—is articulated as a violation of human rights, it effectively transforms a social or political grievance into a binding legal obligation for the state. This framing provides a universal vocabulary for addressing injustice and gives individuals and advocacy groups a concrete, internationally recognised standard against which to measure government conduct and mobilise public support and action. The language of rights is powerfully transformative, shifting a plea from charity or political preference to a non-negotiable demand for dignity and justice.

A common academic way of explaining the historical emergence of these rights is through the "Three Generations" theory, which links the rights to the core ideals of the French Revolution: Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.

First Generation: Civil and Political Rights (Liberty): These are often referred to as "negative rights" because they primarily demand that the state refrain from interfering with individual freedoms. They emerged from 18th-century liberal revolutions (American and French) and focus on individual autonomy and protection from government overreach.

Second Generation: Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (Equality): These are considered "positive rights" because they impose a duty on the state to actively provide or ensure access to certain goods, services, and conditions to achieve equality. They arose in the 19th and 20th centuries, often alongside socialist movements, demanding protection against the excesses of unregulated capitalism.

Third Generation: Solidarity or Collective Rights (Fraternity): These rights are the most recently articulated and focus on collective or group claims that require international cooperation. They relate to global issues and include the right to development, the right to a healthy environment, and the right to peace. These represent global aspirations that transcend the individual-versus-state framework.

The broad spectrum of universally recognised human rights is traditionally categorised into five distinct, yet interdependent, groups: Civil Rights and Political Rights typically focus on ensuring the fundamental freedoms and integrity of the individual from undue state interference. For instance, Civil Rights centre on the protection of a person’s existence and dignity, with a core example being the right to life and the freedom from torture; the State’s primary obligation here is negative, meaning it must refrain from committing such acts against its citizens. Similarly, Political Rights are concerned with ensuring individual participation in the public life of the community and the state, exemplified by the right to vote and stand for election and the freedom of assembly; here, the State has a dual obligation to both respect these rights by not suppressing them and to protect them by establishing the necessary legal framework for their free exercise.

In contrast, Economic Rights, Social Rights, and Cultural Rights are often termed Second Generation rights, primarily requiring positive action and resource allocation from the State. Economic Rights focus on the conditions necessary for a dignified livelihood, with a prime example being the right to work and to just and favourable conditions of employment, obligating the State to progressively work towards their realisation to the maximum of its available resources. Social Rights guarantee the necessities for social well-being, such as the right to social security and the right to adequate housing, imposing a State obligation to take concrete, targeted steps to establish protection systems. Finally, Cultural Rights protect the ability of individuals and communities to preserve and develop their identity, manifested in examples like the right to take part in cultural life and to benefit from scientific progress, which requires the State to respect and facilitate participation without discrimination. Although distinct in their immediate focus and state obligation, all five categories are considered indivisible and interdependent, meaning the realisation of one, such as the right to education (Social), is essential for the enjoyment of others, like the freedom of expression (Civil).

All human rights, regardless of their category, impose three distinct levels of obligation upon the State: to Respect, to Protect, and to Fulfil. The obligation to respect is primarily a negative duty and a core focus of Civil and Political Rights; it requires the State to refrain from interfering with the enjoyment of a right, such as ensuring that police do not arbitrarily detain citizens or that the government doesn't censor free speech. The obligation to protect is a positive duty, requiring the State to prevent third parties, like corporations or private individuals, from violating the rights of others; this means the government must enact and enforce laws to prevent slavery or to stop powerful media moguls from unlawfully invading privacy.

The most challenging and resource-intensive is the obligation to Fulfil, which is the central focus of Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights. This duty requires the State to take active, positive steps—including legislative, administrative, and budgetary measures—to fully realise the rights for all its citizens. For example, to fulfil the right to education, the State must build schools, train teachers, and ensure primary education is compulsory and free; similarly, fulfilling the right to health necessitates establishing a comprehensive healthcare system and infrastructure. While Civil and Political Rights require immediate adherence (such as the immediate prohibition of torture), Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights are subject to progressive realisation, meaning the State must demonstrate it is moving as expeditiously and effectively as possible towards their full achievement, using the maximum of its available resources without any form of discrimination.

The issue of balancing rights—specifically the right to freedom of expression and the right to privacy—illustrates that human rights are not absolute and must often be weighed against each other to determine which should prevail in a specific situation. Clapham points out that the tension is most evident in cases involving the media, where the public's right to know, protected under free expression, clashes with an individual's right to respect for their private and family life. When assessing such conflicts, judicial bodies generally employ a proportionality test, requiring the interference with either right to be prescribed by law, pursue a legitimate aim (such as the protection of the other right), and be necessary in a democratic society. Crucially, this balancing act often distinguishes between matters of genuine public interest—such as exposing government corruption—and mere public curiosity, with the latter offering significantly less justification for infringing upon an individual's privacy. The complexity is magnified by new technologies, which have made the constant surveillance and mass collection of personal data a commonplace challenge, forcing a re-evaluation of privacy limits in an unprecedented digital landscape.

"Corruption: A Very Short Introduction" by Leslie Holmes (2015, Oxford University Press) defines corruption essentially as improper or inappropriate behaviour linked to one's official position or office. Holmes argues that, while this definition sounds straightforward, its application becomes highly complex because the essence of corruption lies in a deviation from the norms that ought to be adhered to by public officials, intending to secure private gain. The greatest challenge is that the understanding of what constitutes 'improper' or 'inappropriate' is heavily dependent on the specific culture and context of a society; what may be considered an acceptable gift or token of respect in one place could be immediately labelled as bribery or a criminal corrupt act in another. Therefore, according to Holmes, corruption can be universally understood as the abuse of public power for private benefit, yet its specifics and societal acceptance are highly fluid and variable.

Holmes addresses the question of "Why corruption is a problem" by placing it among the most detrimental global challenges, arguing that its significance often surpasses other crises like extreme poverty and climate change. He asserts that corruption is problematic fundamentally because it is consistently identified as a principal cause of poverty worldwide, systematically diverting resources away from vital public services—such as healthcare, education, and infrastructure projects—which directly impairs the State's capacity to develop and function efficiently. Furthermore, corruption inherently undermines the rule of law and public trust, leading to a cynical environment where citizens lose faith in their institutions and the fairness of the system, consequently hindering both political participation and democratic processes. Crucially, it creates and entrenches deep social inequality by ensuring that access to public goods and opportunities is dictated by bribery and political connections rather than by merit or need, thus making it an existential threat to societal stability and economic development.

Drawing upon the lenses of Andrew Clapham (on Human Rights) and Leslie Holmes (on Corruption), a clear and destructive nexus emerges between corruption, human rights, and social justice. Holmes establishes that corruption is not merely a financial crime but a systemic phenomenon where the abuse of public office for private gain erodes the efficiency and legitimacy of the State. This systemic erosion directly violates the core principles of Human Rights (HAPs), as detailed by Clapham, by undermining the State's triple obligation to Respect, Protect, and Fulfil these rights. When public funds are illicitly diverted, the State fails in its obligation to fulfil Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights; for instance, money intended for building hospitals or schools is stolen, directly leading to a denial of the rights to health and education, disproportionately harming the most vulnerable populations. Furthermore, corruption often entails the subversion of the rule of law and the judiciary, which is a direct violation of Civil and Political Rights, specifically the right to a fair trial and due process, thereby denying victims any effective remedy for injustices committed against them. Consequently, corruption acts as a massive barrier to Social Justice because it systematically channels resources and power away from the general populace and towards a privileged few. This creates and entrenches deep inequality and discrimination, effectively making the enjoyment of basic human rights a function of wealth or political connection rather than a universal entitlement, thus turning the promise of social justice into a mere illusion.

[Part 7]
[Part 5]

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Is Social Justice Just? (5)

Lord of War (2005), starring Nicolas Cage as Yuri Orlov, depicts an illegal arms dealer whose career commenced in the US before he began operating globally. The film was inspired by the true stories of several international arms smugglers. Despite Orlov being an illicit trafficker, the narrative effectively highlights how the substantial surplus of weaponry following the Cold War, particularly from the former Soviet bloc, flooded the global market, and how major nations (including the US) frequently permitted dealers like Orlov to operate for the sake of geopolitical advantage. The film is a satire which shows that illegal arms dealers often become the 'scapegoats' for the realpolitik interests of the great powers.

The prevailing sentiment among critics regarding the ongoing Israel-Palestine ceasefire is one of deep fragility and scepticism, primarily because the truce fails to address the underlying structural issues of the conflict. While the cessation of major hostilities and the return of some hostages have been acknowledged as positive steps, many observers assert that the agreement merely constitutes a temporary pause, not a conclusive end to the violence, especially since both sides have been quick to accuse the other of violations, severely testing the deal's durability.

International humanitarian and human rights organisations, in their collective assessment, have been vociferous and explicit in demanding that states like the United States immediately cease all weapons transfers to the government of Israel to prevent further complicity in potential international crimes. These groups, including Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, insist that such arms transfers, encompassing munitions, components, and parts, must be halted because there exists an overriding and clear risk that these weapons will be used to commit or facilitate serious violations of international humanitarian law against Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Furthermore, they adamantly call upon the US Congress and the Trump Administration to impose an immediate suspension of lethal military aid as long as Israel's actions, such as the severe and arbitrary obstruction of humanitarian aid and the continued high civilian death toll, suggest a blatant disregard for international and US legal obligations, thus rendering any assurances provided by the Israeli government as entirely non-credible. Finally, many experts highlight that this imperative to implement a full arms embargo is significantly heightened by the International Court of Justice's (ICJ) ruling, which found a plausible risk of genocide in Gaza, compelling all states to use every reasonable means at their disposal to prevent such acts.

By the way, why do critics mention the US arms trade? Because the United States undoubtedly derives significant financial benefit from the global arms trade, a phenomenon deeply embedded in both its governmental operations and the private sector. It is a well-established fact that American defence contractors, such as Lockheed Martin and Raytheon, consistently top the international rankings for arms sales, generating staggering revenues that directly enrich their shareholders and executives. The US government's enormous defence budget, which is the largest in the world, acts as the primary client for these businesses, securing their profitability through massive procurement contracts for equipment. Furthermore, the State Department's authorisation of vast foreign military sales to allies generates revenue for the national coffers through associated fees and taxes, cementing the nation's role as the world's foremost arms exporter. Therefore, both the state's budget and its business elites are intricately linked to, and profit handsomely from, the continual transaction of weaponry.

The dominance of the United States in the international arms market is absolutely staggering, commanding a profoundly significant share of global arms exports. According to recent data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) for the period between 2020 and 2024, the United States accounted for a formidable 43 per cent of all global arms exports, a figure which solidifies its position as the undisputed premier supplier of major conventional weaponry worldwide. This astonishing market share is more than four times that of the next largest exporter, France, and represents a notable increase in American market control over the preceding five-year period. This unprecedented volume of sales sees the US delivering major armaments to over 100 countries globally, with Saudi Arabia being the largest single recipient of these exports, followed by Ukraine and then Japan, demonstrating the vast and varied reach of the American defence industry.

Understanding the context behind the United States' dominance in the global arms trade requires looking at its history, particularly from the mid-20th century onwards, and identifying the multifaceted factors that underpin this immense commercial and political enterprise.

The foundation for the United States' current dominance was firmly laid in the aftermath of World War II, and its leadership status became solidified throughout the Cold War (roughly 1947–1991).

During World War II, the US became known as the "Arsenal of Democracy," a country capable of mass-producing advanced and high-quality military equipment on an unprecedented scale. Following 1945, the subsequent geopolitical rivalry with the Soviet Union transformed this massive industrial capability into a long-term foreign policy instrument, notably through programmes like the Lend-Lease Act initially, and later through the Foreign Military Sales (FMS) system. While the US and the Soviet Union competed for the title of the largest exporter during the Cold War era, the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 led to the significant decline of Russian arms exports, subsequently leaving the United States as the uncontested and dominant global arms merchant from the post-Cold War period to the present day.

The reasons the United States maintains its unparalleled position as the top arms exporter are rooted in a combination of strategic, political, and economic imperatives:

First, Geopolitical Strategy and Alliances: Arms sales serve as a paramount tool of US foreign policy, allowing Washington to fortify its extensive network of global alliances (such as NATO, and key partnerships in Asia and the Middle East). By supplying advanced weapons, the US directly supports the military readiness of allied nations, ensuring interoperability—meaning their equipment can easily work alongside US forces—thereby extending American influence and ensuring its geopolitical interests are protected worldwide.

Second, Unmatched Technological Superiority: The US defence industry is consistently at the forefront of military innovation, producing some of the world's most sophisticated and technologically advanced platforms, such as the F-35 stealth fighter and various precision-guided missile systems. This technological edge creates high demand among nations that seek to modernise their militaries with superior capabilities that often cannot be matched by competitors.

Third, Economic Sustenance of the Defence Industry (The Profit Motive): Arms exports are vital to the health of the vast American military-industrial complex. Foreign sales provide US defence contractors with massive revenue streams, which in turn support high-skilled domestic jobs and fund the costly research and development required to keep the US military technologically ahead. Simply put, selling abroad helps to keep domestic production lines open and lowers the per-unit cost of weapons for the US military itself.

Fourth, Security Commitments and Dependence: When a country purchases a major weapons system from the US, it often enters into a decades-long relationship that includes maintenance, spare parts, training, and upgrades. This arrangement creates a long-term security dependency on the US, making it difficult for the purchasing nation to switch suppliers, effectively locking them into the American sphere of influence.

In the case of Israel-Palestine, the United States unequivocally supplies weapons and security assistance to Israel; in fact, it acts as the nation's primary and most crucial source of military technology. This long-standing relationship is formally enshrined through a system of military grants and sales, predominantly channelled via the Foreign Military Financing (FMF) programme. This FMF funding, which is subject to a long-term, ten-year Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between the two countries, requires Israel to largely procure US-manufactured defence articles and services through the Foreign Military Sales (FMS) system. This arrangement ensures Israel receives access to some of the world's most advanced military hardware, including cutting-edge fighter aircraft and precision-guided munitions, which is a foundational element of the US commitment to maintaining Israel’s Qualitative Military Edge (QME) in the Middle East region. 

Israel's method of payment for most of its substantial military procurements from the United States is unique and primarily relies upon grant money provided directly by the US government, meaning the arms are generally not paid for using loans or Israeli national debt. This aid is channelled through the Foreign Military Financing (FMF) programme, which effectively gives Israel the required funds—currently set at $3.3 billion annually under the existing Memorandum of Understanding—to purchase US defence articles and services through the Foreign Military Sales system. Furthermore, Israel benefits from a unique provision called "Cash Flow Financing," allowing it to finance large, multi-year purchases, such as high-cost fighter jets, by essentially committing its future annual grant allocations as payment collateral. Historically, Israel was also permitted to convert a portion of this US grant money into Israeli currency for procurement from its own domestic defence industry, although this specific allowance is being gradually phased out under the current MOU. Crucially, the US is by far the largest single supplier of advanced weaponry; whilst Israel maintains a robust domestic defence industry and does engage in limited trade with other nations, the vast majority of its high-end systems and financing is derived from the American security relationship.

The Foreign Military Financing (FMF) programme, particularly the substantial grant provided to Israel, yields several significant strategic, economic, and military benefits for the United States, extending far beyond a simple act of aid. Strategically, this investment ensures the presence of a powerful and technologically sophisticated ally in a highly volatile region, effectively offloading the burden of regional stability onto a capable partner who shares many common security interests, without requiring the deployment of large numbers of US ground troops. Economically, the vast majority of this grant money is mandated to be spent on US-manufactured defence articles and services, which acts as a powerful stimulus for the American defence industrial base; this practice supports tens of thousands of highly skilled American jobs, boosts US exports, and helps lower the unit costs of advanced weapons systems like fighter jets for the US military itself by keeping production lines running efficiently. Furthermore, this cooperation promotes military interoperability, allowing the US and Israeli forces to train, communicate, and operate seamlessly together, while the joint development of cutting-edge defence technologies, such as missile defence systems, provides the US military with access to battle-tested innovations.

Besides the United States, which undeniably maintains the dominant share of global arms exports, there are several other major nations whose arms industries significantly shape international security dynamics. Based on recent data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), two of the most prominent exporters are France and Russia.

France has solidified its position as one of the world's largest arms exporters, often ranking second globally in recent years, demonstrating a substantial and consistent rise in its share of the international market. French participation in this trade is driven primarily by two interconnected factors: economic necessity and the pursuit of strategic autonomy. Economically, large-scale arms exports are crucial for maintaining the viability and high technological readiness of France's domestic defence industrial base, as the national military's procurement alone would not sustain the complex research, development, and production costs, especially for major platforms like the Rafale fighter jet. Strategically, arms sales allow Paris to cultivate deep, long-term political and military partnerships with key nations, particularly in the Middle East and Asia, thereby projecting French influence and ensuring its geopolitical voice remains strong without relying solely on multilateral alliances.

Historically, the second-largest exporter, Russia, remains a major global player, though its share has recently declined due to the war in Ukraine and subsequent Western sanctions. Russia’s involvement in the arms trade is fundamentally rooted in economic diversification and the projection of geopolitical influence. Economically, arms sales remain one of Russia's most significant sources of foreign currency revenue outside of its energy exports, and they help to maintain the substantial military-industrial complex inherited from the Soviet era. Geopolitically, Russia uses arms transfers to maintain ties with former Soviet states and establish crucial partnerships with nations whose defence sectors rely on Russian equipment, such as India and various African and Middle Eastern states, thereby securing a global presence and challenging the dominance of Western military alliances.

Germany, as a major European industrial power, occupies a unique and often contradictory position in the global arms trade, frequently balancing its economic interests against its historically strict and ethically driven export policies, particularly when compared to other NATO allies. The primary motive for German arms exports is traditionally economic, specifically the need to sustain its highly advanced domestic defence industry and participate in collaborative European defence projects, which require export permissions to remain viable. However, German policy often imposes stringent political criteria, historically attempting to avoid transferring weapons to conflict zones or to regimes with documented human rights abuses, although this posture has recently become more flexible and pragmatic in response to current geopolitical crises, such as the conflict in Ukraine and shifting security alliances in the Middle East.

Conversely, China's increasing role as a significant global arms supplier is driven primarily by strategic political objectives aimed at broadening its global influence, particularly across the Global South. China offers an attractive alternative to Western suppliers by marketing affordable, robust, and increasingly sophisticated military hardware—including popular drone and air-defence systems—often with the explicit benefit of imposing no political conditionality or human rights vetting on the recipient nation's domestic affairs. This approach allows Beijing to secure strategic partnerships, gain access to vital resources, and challenge the established dominance of the United States and Russia, thereby advancing its long-term aspiration of becoming a rival global military and political power.

The rising prominence of South Korea and Turkey represents a significant disruption to the conventional, historically oligopolistic structure of the global arms trade, shifting market dynamics beyond the traditional dominance of the United States, Russia, and European powers. Both nations are driven by a dual motive: national security, self-sufficiency and economic viability.

South Korea has rapidly ascended to become a major global exporter, primarily motivated by the need to sustain a massive domestic defence industry essential for countering the pervasive threat from North Korea. The enormous cost of developing advanced systems requires Seoul to sell internationally to achieve economies of scale and keep its production lines financially solvent. Their success is built on offering high-quality, advanced weapon platforms, such as tanks, artillery, and naval vessels, that are NATO-compatible yet often more affordable and delivered faster than Western alternatives, making them highly attractive to European countries modernising their arsenals and nations in Asia.

Turkiye, meanwhile, has strategically focused on developing indigenous, technologically disruptive capabilities, most famously its Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicles (UCAVs), like the Bayraktar TB2. Turkey's main motivation is a determination to eliminate its dependence on foreign suppliers who have, in the past, imposed arms embargoes or political restrictions during Turkish military operations. By offering battle-tested, relatively inexpensive, and high-impact technology without the political conditionality imposed by Western governments, Ankara has effectively carved out a niche in the global market, particularly securing influence and partnerships across the Middle East, Africa, and Central Asia.

In essence, these two emerging suppliers are actively providing a much-needed diversification option for nations—especially those in the Global South and secondary NATO states—who seek to modernise their forces without being locked into the high costs and political scrutiny associated with traditional suppliers.

The status of the world's largest arms importer has recently shifted dramatically due to escalating geopolitical conflict. According to the latest comprehensive data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) covering the period between 2020 and 2024, Ukraine emerged as the single largest importer of major arms globally. This astonishing change saw Ukraine’s share of global arms imports spike to 8.8 per cent, an increase of nearly one hundred times compared to the preceding five-year period, primarily reflecting the massive influx of military aid supplied by Western nations, led by the United States, following the full-scale invasion by Russia. Following Ukraine, the other major importers in the world are typically nations with a focus on regional security concerns, including India and countries in the Middle East, such as Qatar and Saudi Arabia. However, the import volume for these traditional buyers has seen varying trends recently.

The Global Politics of Arms Sales by Andrew J. Pierre (1982, Princeton University Press) analyses the rationales that drive major powers, including the US, to engage in arms sales. It systematically breaks down the motivations into the very categories mentioned: gaining influence, enhancing security for allies, and reaping economic benefits. Pierre's analysis clearly demonstrates how arms sales transitioned from being primarily a commercial transaction to a central pillar of foreign policy, allowing the US to exercise power and secure long-term dependency from clients.

The fundamental argument advanced by Andrew J. Pierre's analysis definitively positions the United States' Foreign Military Sales (FMS) system as the crucial mechanism deliberately established to transform military technology into enduring political and economic leverage following the Second World War. The primary strategic necessity for this highly centralised, government-to-government system was the geopolitical competition of the Cold War, allowing Washington to solidify its global alliance networks and execute its containment strategy by ensuring interoperability among allied forces. Furthermore, the FMS model functions by creating a profound and deliberate technological dependency on the US, committing recipient nations to long-term logistical support, maintenance, training, and subsequent upgrade cycles that can span decades. This comprehensive, protracted relationship ensures that military sales provide robust economic sustenance for the US defence industrial base while simultaneously furnishing the US government with powerful, continuous political leverage over the foreign and domestic policy choices of its client states, far exceeding the transactional influence of mere commercial sales.

Pierre extensively names both major suppliers and key recipient nations, as his entire analysis is fundamentally based on dissecting the actual geopolitical flows of weaponry during and immediately preceding the Cold War era. While the United States is meticulously detailed as the central supplier, other significant traditional arms exporters such as the Soviet Union, France, and the United Kingdom are frequently discussed to illustrate the nature of global competition and their respective spheres of influence. The study also highlights emerging suppliers, including China and West Germany (before reunification), though their influence was generally considered secondary to the dominant powers at the time.

Crucially, the book names numerous recipient nations across various geopolitical regions to demonstrate the strategic impact of arms transfers. Examples of key recipients frequently mentioned would include major allies and client states in the Middle East (such as Israel, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt), critical confrontation states in Asia (like South Korea), and countries in South America and Africa, where the US and the Soviet Union competed directly for influence. The inclusion of these specific nation-to-nation transfers is essential to Pierre's core thesis that arms sales were, first and foremost, instruments of foreign policy and diplomatic leverage, rather than purely commercial transactions.

The trade in arms is a double-edged sword when assessing regional stability, frequently exacerbating existing tensions and fuelling protracted conflicts rather than acting as a deterrent. The ready availability of weaponry, particularly in regions already prone to instability, directly enables and escalates military conflicts, as seen acutely in areas like the Middle East or Eastern Europe. When major powers supply sophisticated arms to various opposing factions or rivals within a region, it inevitably prompts an arms race, where each nation feels compelled to purchase more weapons simply to maintain a relative balance of power, thereby increasing the overall risk of conflict. Furthermore, the immense financial drain of military spending, often prioritised by vulnerable countries, actively diverts crucial resources away from poverty alleviation, healthcare, and educational development, subsequently undermining long-term socio-economic stability. A significant concern is also the leakage of legally exported weapons into the illicit or 'black' market, where they fall into the hands of non-state actors such as terrorist groups or organised crime syndicates, directly threatening civilian security and state sovereignty. Essentially, while arms sales are often framed as promoting security, in practice, unregulated global arms transfers frequently serve to increase instability, intensify human rights abuses, and deepen humanitarian crises.

The Arms Trade Treaty (ATT) is the primary instrument created by the United Nations (UN) to address the unregulated trade in conventional arms. It was adopted by the UN General Assembly in April 2013 and entered into force in December 2014. The scope of the Arms Trade Treaty (ATT) is broad, encompassing eight distinct categories of conventional weapons, which are typically based on those established by the UN Register of Conventional Arms. These categories cover all major combat systems used in conventional warfare, including battle tanks, armoured combat vehicles, large-calibre artillery systems, combat aircraft, attack helicopters, warships, and missiles and missile launchers. Crucially, the final category is dedicated to Small Arms and Light Weapons (SALW), which are recognised as being widely proliferated and playing a disproportionately large role in regional instability and human rights abuses, despite their smaller size. Specifically, Small Arms generally refer to man-portable weapons intended for individual use, such as assault rifles, submachine guns, revolvers, and light machine guns. In contrast, Light Weapons are usually designed for use by a crew of two or three people or are designed to fire an explosive projectile, examples of which include heavy machine guns, portable anti-tank guns, man-portable missile systems, and mortars. Moreover, the Treaty's reach extends beyond the weapons themselves, requiring states to also establish control systems to regulate the export of related ammunition/munitions and the parts and components specifically designed for these eight categories of conventional arms.

The Arms Trade Treaty (ATT) serves as a critical mechanism in the international effort to curb illicit arms trading and alleviate humanitarian crises by embedding robust legal and ethical controls into the conventional arms transfer process. The Treaty’s primary method is to mandate that all States Parties conduct a rigorous, good-faith risk assessment before authorising any export of conventional weapons. Crucially, this assessment is not purely commercial; States are legally obliged to deny an export authorisation if there is an overriding risk that the arms could be used to commit or facilitate serious violations of international humanitarian law, severe breaches of human rights law, acts of terrorism, or gender-based violence. Furthermore, the ATT directly tackles the issue of illicit trade and the resultant humanitarian suffering by requiring States Parties to establish comprehensive national control systems and actively take measures, in accordance with Article 11, to prevent the diversion of arms from the legal market to unauthorised end-users, which is the link often fuelling armed groups and conflict zones. By promoting transparency through mandatory annual reporting of arms exports and imports and fostering international cooperation, the ATT aims to raise accountability and ensure that weapons do not fall into the hands of perpetrators who would exploit them to perpetuate violence and human displacement.

From a Social Justice perspective, the Arms Trade Treaty (ATT) represents a vital moral and legal instrument designed to challenge systemic global inequalities perpetuated by the unregulated flow of weapons. The core injustice addressed is the disproportionate suffering inflicted upon civilians, particularly the most vulnerable and marginalised populations—women, children, and those in conflict-affected regions—who bear the brunt of armed violence facilitated by irresponsible arms transfers. The ATT seeks to rectify this by embedding humanitarian and human rights concerns as mandatory legal criteria for arms exports, effectively prioritising the protection of people over purely commercial profit or political expediency. Crucially, the Treaty explicitly includes gender-based violence (GBV) as a risk factor that must be assessed, recognising that weapon transfers often exacerbate existing power imbalances and increase specific threats to women and girls. Therefore, the Treaty is fundamentally an attempt at justice, aiming to reduce armed conflict, limit human suffering, and uphold the fundamental right of all people to live in security, free from the threat of weaponry diverted to the hands that violate international law.

From a general social justice perspective, the continued large-scale arms trade to conflict-affected regions—particularly the provision of weapons from major exporting nations like the United States to Israel—is fundamentally viewed as a systemic driver of inequality and injustice, rather than simply a geopolitical tool. This critique posits that such commerce is not ethically neutral, as it actively contributes to the perpetuation of violence and the resulting humanitarian crisis, thereby deepening the marginalisation and suffering of the most vulnerable populations, namely Palestinian civilians. The core injustice lies in the fact that exporting states effectively prioritise economic and geopolitical interests—often defined by the profits of arms manufacturers and military-industrial complexes—over their moral and legal obligations to uphold human rights and prevent mass atrocities.

Furthermore, social justice advocates argue that this trade undermines the concept of rule of law and accountability, creating a profound sense of impunity for states that are alleged to have committed serious violations of international humanitarian law; by continuing to supply the means of warfare despite overwhelming evidence of civilian casualties and human rights abuses, the exporting nation risks being seen as complicit in, or at least enabling, these international crimes. This system is also criticised for its racialised and gendered dimensions, as the use of high-tech weaponry, largely supplied by Western nations, disproportionately impacts women, children, and minority groups within the targeted population, leading to massive displacement, loss of livelihoods, and the destruction of essential civilian infrastructure like hospitals and schools. Therefore, from this viewpoint, the call for an immediate and comprehensive arms embargo against all parties to the conflict is not merely a political demand, but an ethical imperative necessary to dismantle a system that sustains colonial violence, profits from human suffering, and ultimately ensures that any political 'peace' remains hollow and temporary.

The single most crucial message the public needs to understand about the global arms trade is that it is a systemic, profit-driven engine that perpetuates conflict, human suffering, and global instability, rather than acting as a neutral instrument for security.

The primary point is that the massive, largely unregulated, and often corrupt flow of conventional weapons—ranging from fighter jets and missiles to small arms and light weapons—escalates and prolongs violence across the world. When major powers, or their defence corporations, continue to supply weapons to conflict zones, they are effectively investing in the continuation of war. This perverse economic model ensures that the short-term financial gains of arms manufacturers are prioritised over the long-term human security and sustainable development of recipient nations.

Furthermore, the public must realise that the costs are borne disproportionately by the most vulnerable: the arms trade directly contributes to massive human rights abuses, including war crimes and the displacement of millions of civilians, with women and children often suffering the most severe and specific consequences. It also acts as a major economic burden, diverting vast national resources away from essential human development sectors like healthcare, education, and poverty reduction, thereby hindering the attainment of global development goals.

In essence, the message is one of profound moral and ethical contradiction: the system that generates instruments of mass destruction remains largely self-regulating and highly profitable, and until citizens demand full transparency, strict accountability, and ethical coherence from their governments and corporations, the business of war will continue to undermine the possibility of lasting peace and social justice worldwide.

[Bagian 6]
[Bagian 4]

Bahasa

Is Social Justice Just? (4)

Several high-profile infrastructure projects in Indonesia initiated during President Jokowi’s tenure have faced delays, remain partially completed or finished, but are seen as detrimental to the public, generating debate over their social and moral implications. Applying David Miller’s five principles of social justice—need, desert, equality, freedom, and community—provides a structured way to evaluate their impact.

Firstly, the principle of need underscores that public projects should primarily address the most urgent requirements of citizens. For instance, unfinished rural roads, irrigation projects, or regional hospitals disproportionately affect communities that already experience socio-economic vulnerability. When these projects stall, the intended benefits for the poorest and most marginalised are withheld, revealing a gap between policy intentions and lived realities.

Secondly, the principle of desert highlights accountability and recognition of merit. Those entrusted with planning, funding, and executing these projects have a duty to ensure their completion. Mangkrak projects reflect a breach of this principle, as bureaucratic inefficiency, political interference, or mismanagement prevents the proper execution of initiatives, undermining both trust in public officials and the notion that effort and responsibility are rewarded.

Thirdly, the principle of equality comes into play in the distribution of infrastructure benefits. Many delayed projects are located in less developed or remote regions, meaning that citizens in wealthier urban areas receive completed infrastructure while rural populations remain underserved. This perpetuates inequality and demonstrates how social justice is compromised when access to public goods is uneven.

Fourthly, the principle of freedom reminds us that social justice should empower citizens rather than create dependency or frustration. Mangkrak projects can limit citizens’ economic and social agency: unfinished transport hubs, airports, or industrial estates hinder mobility, commerce, and employment opportunities, reducing people’s freedom to improve their own lives.

Finally, the principle of community stresses the moral and social fabric that binds citizens together. When public projects remain incomplete, they erode public trust, weaken social cohesion, and diminish the shared sense of responsibility between the state and its citizens. For social justice to be fully realised, communities must perceive that the state acts fairly and that collective resources are managed ethically.

In conclusion, analysing mangkrak projects through Miller’s framework reveals that their incompletion is not merely a technical failure, but a multi-dimensional challenge to social justice. Addressing these issues requires not only bureaucratic efficiency but also moral and civic accountability, ensuring that public resources are allocated according to need, executed with merit, distributed fairly, empower citizens, and strengthen communal bonds.

A government project that genuinely serves the public interest can only be considered “clean” from corruption and private gain when it is built upon the foundation of transparency, accountability, and impartial decision-making. Every stage—from planning and procurement to execution and evaluation—must be open to public scrutiny, with clear records of how funds are allocated, who benefits from the contracts, and what outcomes are expected. There must be no secret deals, no political favours, and no manipulation of tenders to benefit insiders. Integrity should not be a slogan, but a system enforced by independent oversight bodies that have the power to investigate without interference. When officials are required to disclose conflicts of interest, when citizens have access to real-time data on spending, and when media and civil society can freely question authority without fear, only then can a project truly reflect the will of the people rather than the greed of a few.

One might marvel at the declaration that Whoosh is the “Best Work Ever,” as if the mere presence of a bestselling author’s name automatically transforms ink on paper into pure gold. Critics, it seems, are expected to bow before the pages and exclaim, “Behold! Genius!” while ignoring the glaringly obvious: the prose occasionally meanders like a lost tourist, and some chapters feel like filler material written during a coffee break. Yet, the marketing machine hums along, reassuring the public that buying this book is akin to purchasing a ticket to enlightenment, when in reality, it might just be a slightly overpriced nap. 

Let's examine reported irregularities and problematic facts about the Whoosh Jakarta–Bandung high-speed rail project that critics say point to cost mark-ups, poor procurement choices, and governance failure—and creates political responsibility at the highest level. We stick to what reputable reporting and public statements have documented (allegations, investigations and official figures) and flag where something is still disputed or under inquiry.

First, multiple news outlets and analysts document a clear and consequential switch in project partners and financing from Japanese proposals to a Chinese-led bid, despite earlier Japanese interest and apparently lower estimated costs; critics say that procedural irregularities and the sudden policy pivot created opportunities for non-competitive outcomes. Reporting quotes former ministers and analysts who place that policy shift at the president’s desk, which is why accountability questions are being raised.

Second, several reports highlight that the Whoosh project’s final price rose substantially from initial estimates—figures published in the press show the project cost rising from an earlier estimate in the low billions of US dollars to about US$7.2–7.3 billion—and that the per-kilometre cost was higher than comparable projects. Cost escalation of that size is a classic red flag for potential mark-ups, contract scope changes, or weak cost control. 

Third, independent commentators and watchdogs have pointed to procurement and contractual features that reduced transparency or transferred unusual financial risks to state-linked entities. Examples noted in the press include the use of a joint venture and financing structures that left Indonesian state-owned firms and the public balance sheet exposed to debt servicing and losses, rather than placing predictable guarantees or clearer fiscal protections up front. Those structural choices can hide contingent liabilities and limit parliamentary or public scrutiny.

Fourth, there are specific allegations of “mark-up” and suspicious tender handling in public commentary and from civil society actors; these claims have now prompted at least preliminary inquiries and calls for formal investigation by anti-corruption bodies. That development is important because it moves the issue from opinion into the realm of formal fact-finding and possible legal accountability. It is proper to note, however, that allegations are not proven until investigations conclude.

Fifth, confidentiality clauses, loan terms and legal provisions reported in the media have generated additional concern because they may limit Indonesia’s policy flexibility and expose state assets if contractual problems arise. Prominent legal and political figures have warned publicly that contract terms and the scale of Chinese lending could create long-term fiscal and sovereignty risks, which strengthens the argument that political leaders who authorised or pressed the deal should explain their decisions.

Sixth, operational performance has not matched the optimistic projections used to justify the financing. Multiple outlets report ridership well below feasibility-study forecasts and substantial operating losses, meaning the public and state-owned enterprises have faced a heavier financial burden than promised—a practical harm that critics use to argue that political accountability for the project’s design and oversight is warranted.

Taken together, these documented facts—the abrupt partner/financing switch with competing bids in the background; large cost overruns; procurement and contracting structures that put public institutions at financial risk; public allegations of mark-ups and a formal anti-corruption inquiry; and underperforming operational results—form a coherent case for serious public oversight and for asking top political leaders to answer how and why those decisions were made. Whether this chain of evidence is legally sufficient to “prove” criminal liability is a matter for investigators and courts, but from a governance and civic accountability standpoint, the combination of (a) strategic policy choices that benefitted the final bidder, (b) big cost increases, (c) opaque contractual terms, and (d) heavy fiscal consequences for state actors is the basis on which critics argue that President Joko Widodo—as the head of the administration that greenlit and steered the project—should be held politically and administratively responsible and must submit to transparent investigation. This case also shows that the demand for "Jokowi to be tried immediately" is still very relevant. 

Looking at the Whoosh project through the lens of social justice highlights several stark tensions between public welfare and the exercise of political and economic power. Social justice, in its most basic sense, demands that state resources, opportunities, and burdens are distributed fairly and transparently, and that citizens—particularly ordinary taxpayers—receive benefits proportionate to the costs they bear. In the case of Whoosh, critics argue that cost escalations, opaque tendering, and contractual arrangements that shifted financial risk onto the state violate the principle of distributive justice. Ordinary Indonesians are effectively paying for a project that delivers minimal social benefit while a small circle of political and corporate actors stands to gain financially, either through mark-ups, construction contracts, or financing arrangements.

Moreover, procedural fairness, another pillar of social justice, appears compromised. When decisions are made without clear competitive bidding, transparent evaluations, or public scrutiny, citizens are denied their right to participate meaningfully in decisions that shape the infrastructure and economy of their country. The underperformance of ridership and limited societal utility reinforces the argument: the social cost is high, the social benefit low, and the burdens are concentrated on those least able to bear them—typical signs of social injustice.

Viewed in this light, the Whoosh case can be framed as a cautionary example of how infrastructure projects, if poorly governed, can exacerbate inequality and undermine citizens’ trust in government. The accountability of leaders, especially those who authorised and oversaw the project, becomes a social justice issue itself, because justice is not just about law or policy—it is about ensuring that public decisions equitably serve the common good rather than privileging a few insiders.

From the perspective of social justice, the controversy surrounding Vice President Gibran’s educational documents, particularly allegations that he may not possess qualifications equivalent to a high school diploma, raises serious questions about fairness, transparency, and merit in political leadership. Social justice is not merely concerned with economic or material equity; it also encompasses procedural integrity, ethical standards, and equal application of rules within society. When top officials appear to bypass or obscure basic qualifications, it undermines citizens’ trust in institutions and signals a potential breach of the principle that leadership should be based on competence and moral legitimacy.

Applying David Miller’s framework, the principle of equality is immediately relevant. Citizens expect that requirements for political office are applied consistently to all candidates. If Gibran’s educational background is unclear, yet he holds a high office, it creates an unequal situation where ordinary citizens or aspiring leaders must meet standards that elites might circumvent, fostering a perception of injustice.

The principle of desert or merit is likewise implicated. Leadership positions carry moral authority that should reflect qualifications, effort, and responsibility. When these credentials are in doubt, the ethical basis for granting authority is weakened, challenging the social contract between government and citizens. Meritocracy becomes compromised, and public trust in governance erodes.

The principle of need is indirectly connected. Political leadership has real consequences for policy-making and resource allocation. Leaders who lack sufficient qualifications may be less effective in addressing the needs of society, particularly vulnerable populations, thus indirectly undermining social justice outcomes.

Finally, the principles of solidarity and community highlight broader societal effects. Public perception of unfairness or opaque standards at the highest levels of leadership erodes social cohesion. Citizens may feel alienated or cynical about their ability to participate in a just political system, weakening collective moral responsibility and the shared sense of civic belonging essential for a socially just society.

In sum, from a social justice perspective, the controversy surrounding Gibran’s educational qualifications is not merely a private or procedural matter but a public ethical issue. It underscores the importance of transparency, merit-based appointments, and equal application of standards as foundational elements of social justice and democratic legitimacy.

In a display that could only be described as theatrically reassuring, President Jokowi allegedly unveiled his diploma to an enthusiastic crowd, who immediately erupted with cries of “ASLI LI!” (It's really genuine!) as if the mere act of showing a piece of paper instantly confirmed centuries of unquestionable legitimacy. One might imagine that somewhere, in an alternate universe, textbooks are now being rewritten: the proof of one’s competence, it appears, is no longer exams or experience, but the spontaneous cheers of a fan club. Meanwhile, the rest of the population is left squinting, wondering whether verification involves rigorous scrutiny or merely applause. 

When comparing the controversies surrounding President Jokowi’s allegedly fake diploma and Vice President Gibran’s unclear educational documents, both cases raise significant social justice concerns, yet in slightly different ways. Both instances touch upon issues of transparency, accountability, and fairness, central pillars in the ethical governance of public institutions.

The principle of equality is directly implicated in both cases. Citizens expect that eligibility rules for high political office apply equally to everyone. If these rules are perceived as being bypassed by top officials, it creates a moral and procedural imbalance, undermining trust in the system. While Jokowi’s case involves allegations of falsified credentials, Gibran’s situation revolves around incomplete or unclear documentation, yet both generate perceptions that ordinary citizens may face stricter scrutiny than elites.

Regarding the principle of desert or merit, both cases challenge the moral basis of authority. Leadership legitimacy depends on competence and integrity. Any doubt regarding educational qualifications diminishes the ethical foundation of authority and questions whether meritocracy is truly respected. In both instances, citizens may feel that authority is granted based on political privilege rather than achievement, which weakens the social contract.

The principle of need is indirectly relevant. Competent leadership affects the state’s ability to allocate resources fairly. If leaders’ qualifications are questionable, policies addressing public needs — from education and healthcare to infrastructure — may be compromised, disproportionately harming vulnerable populations.

The principles of solidarity and community also apply. Both controversies have the potential to erode public trust and social cohesion. Transparency at the top levels of governance is essential for citizens to feel included in the ethical and civic life of the nation. When leaders’ qualifications are doubted or concealed, collective confidence in institutions suffers.

While Jokowi’s and Gibran’s cases differ in specifics—allegations of falsification versus incomplete documentation—both challenge the ethical and procedural dimensions of social justice. They highlight the importance of transparency, merit-based appointments, and equality under the rules as foundational to a fair and socially cohesive political system.

Arguing that Vice President Gibran should be impeached or resign due to doubts surrounding his educational credentials is morally compelling, especially in terms of transparency, equality, and meritocracy, it must be reconciled with Indonesia’s legal framework and political mechanisms. Advocates may use public pressure, scrutiny, and calls for institutional reform to reinforce the importance of ethical and competent leadership. 

In Thomas Risse's seminal work Transparency, Accountability, and Global Governance (2008, Global Governance Vol. 14, No. 1 (January–March 2008), pp. 73-94, published by: Brill), he explores how transparency functions as a cornerstone of accountability in global governance. Risse identifies three primary forces—market pressure, external discourse, and internal norms—that influence the behaviour of global actors through transparency. These forces can regulate actions by making them visible and subject to scrutiny, thereby holding actors accountable to the public and other stakeholders.

Applying Risse's framework to the controversies surrounding President Jokowi's alleged fake diploma and Vice President Gibran's unclear educational documents reveals significant concerns regarding transparency and accountability in Indonesian governance. The lack of clarity and transparency about the educational qualifications of these high-ranking officials undermines public trust and raises questions about their legitimacy and adherence to democratic principles.

Risse's analysis underscores the importance of transparency as a mechanism for accountability. When leaders' qualifications are obscured or misrepresented, it not only breaches the public's right to know but also erodes the foundational norms that support democratic governance. In the context of Indonesia, such issues highlight the need for robust transparency measures to ensure that political leaders are held accountable and that their authority is derived from legitimate and verifiable credentials.

The controversies surrounding President Jokowi’s alleged fake diploma and Vice President Gibran’s unclear educational documents have multi-layered implications for social justice in Indonesia. In the short term, these cases primarily affect public perception and trust. Citizens may feel that leaders are not held to the same standards as ordinary people, undermining the principle of equality and fostering scepticism towards governmental institutions. This perception can reduce civic engagement and increase public cynicism, which in turn weakens social cohesion.

In the medium term, the lack of transparency and accountability may influence political norms and governance practices. If unaddressed, these controversies can set a precedent where political elites feel they can bypass scrutiny, eroding meritocratic standards in appointments and promotions. Such erosion can exacerbate social inequalities, as opportunities and resources may be allocated based on privilege rather than competence or need.

In the long term, persistent doubts about leadership integrity can undermine the foundations of democratic legitimacy and institutional trust. Social justice relies not only on fair distribution of resources but also on ethical governance. If the public consistently perceives that leaders evade accountability or obscure their qualifications, the state’s ability to implement equitable policies is compromised. Over time, this can weaken the social contract, hinder collective action for the common good, and entrench systemic injustices.

In conclusion, both cases pose serious risks to social justice in Indonesia, highlighting the critical importance of transparency, merit-based appointments, and consistent application of rules to maintain public trust, equality, and ethical governance.

[Part 5]
[Part 3]

Bahasa

Indonesian Youth Pledge Day

The celebration of Youth Pledge Day in Indonesia is more than a mere commemoration of history; it serves as a poignant reminder of the enduring spirit of unity among the nation’s youth. On October 28, Indonesians reflect on a pivotal moment when young visionaries from different regions proclaimed their dedication to a single homeland, a singular nation, and a shared language: Indonesia.

This pledge, declared in 1928, was not only a political statement but also a moral and cultural commitment. It signalled the determination of the youth to rise above local divisions and work collectively for the greater good of the nation. The courage and foresight demonstrated on that day continue to inspire generations.

It is crucial to consider the context of the era: Indonesia was a fragmented archipelago under colonial rule, where regional identities often overshadowed a sense of collective national identity. The youth’s decision to unite symbolised a profound shift towards national consciousness.

The concept of “one homeland” emphasises the inseparability of Indonesia’s diverse regions. It recognises that the prosperity and security of one area are inherently linked to the well-being of the others. Youth Pledge Day reminds citizens that unity is not merely a sentimental idea but a practical necessity for sustainable development.

The pledge’s second principle, “one nation,” underscores the importance of a shared identity. In a country with hundreds of ethnicities, maintaining a unified national identity requires dialogue, tolerance, and the ability to embrace diversity. The youth’s commitment in 1928 demonstrated an early understanding of this delicate balance.

Language, as highlighted in the third part of the pledge, serves as a powerful tool for cohesion. Bahasa Indonesia became more than a medium of communication; it evolved into a symbol of solidarity, a common thread weaving together myriad cultures and traditions.

Youth Pledge Day also serves as a reminder of the role of the younger generation in shaping national destiny. The youth are not merely passive observers; they are active participants whose vision and actions can define the trajectory of the country.

The modern Indonesian youth can draw lessons from this historic moment. In an era of globalisation and digital connectivity, the challenges to unity are different but equally significant. Social media, for instance, has the power to unite ideas but can also amplify divisions if not navigated wisely.

It is essential to cultivate a sense of responsibility alongside freedom. Just as the youth of 1928 pledged allegiance to a united Indonesia, today’s youth must commit to constructive engagement and social accountability.

Historical reflection reveals that unity does not emerge spontaneously. It is nurtured through education, dialogue, and shared experiences. Youth Pledge Day calls upon citizens to actively participate in nation-building, embracing diversity as a strength rather than a barrier.

The bravery of Indonesia’s youth in 1928 also reflects an ethical dimension: standing for unity often requires courage, especially in the face of opposition or systemic challenges. Modern youth can emulate this bravery in advocating for justice, equality, and national integrity.

Moreover, the pledge signifies hope. Even under oppressive conditions, a determined group of young people envisioned a future free from division and domination. Their hope materialised into a blueprint for a sovereign nation.

Commemorating this day involves more than ceremonies; it entails introspection about the values that underpin national identity. Citizens are encouraged to consider how their actions, words, and attitudes contribute to or undermine collective solidarity.

Youth Pledge Day is also an invitation to bridge generational gaps. Older generations hold memories and experiences of struggle, while younger generations bring energy, creativity, and innovation. By connecting these strengths, Indonesia can forge a resilient future.

The pledge resonates beyond political or cultural realms; it has educational significance. Schools and institutions often use this day to teach the importance of civic responsibility, cultural awareness, and ethical leadership.

Indonesia’s journey since 1928 demonstrates that unity is an ongoing process. Economic disparities, regional tensions, and social challenges persist, reminding citizens that the ideals of the Youth Pledge require continual reinforcement.

The day encourages reflection on the relationship between local and national identity. While regional pride is valuable, it should not supersede a shared sense of nationhood. Striking this balance remains a central challenge in Indonesia’s democratic and pluralistic society.

In the age of globalisation, Youth Pledge Day also prompts consideration of Indonesia’s role in the world. A nation united internally is better positioned to assert its interests internationally and contribute to global dialogue with confidence and credibility.

The pledge emphasises collaboration. Just as the youth of 1928 joined forces across diverse backgrounds, modern Indonesian society benefits from cooperation across sectors, whether in education, business, or governance.

Reflecting on Youth Pledge Day encourages personal growth. Individuals are inspired to evaluate how their values, skills, and choices contribute to the nation’s collective well-being. The pledge is both a historical milestone and a living call to action.

Youth Pledge Day also reminds us that unity requires constant renewal. Just as ideals can fade with time, commitment too can weaken if not continuously nurtured. Each generation must rediscover the meaning of unity for its own era and context.

The youth of today live in a world far different from that of 1928. Yet, the essence of their struggle remains the same — to create a sense of belonging and purpose in a rapidly changing nation.

The digital age has amplified both opportunities and risks. It allows the youth to voice their opinions and mobilise movements, but it can also breed misinformation, apathy, and division. The spirit of the pledge challenges them to use these tools wisely.

Cultural dialogue plays a vital role in sustaining the unity envisioned in 1928. When people from different regions exchange ideas and traditions, they reinforce the foundation of a shared identity that transcends geography.

Economic equality is another crucial component. Unity is fragile when large disparities exist between the privileged and the marginalised. The Youth Pledge thus serves as a reminder that social justice and unity are deeply interconnected.

Political maturity is required to sustain what the youth of 1928 began. Democracy is strongest when citizens understand that participation, integrity, and compromise are the cornerstones of a healthy nation.

Education in civic ethics must remain a national priority. When young people learn to combine freedom with responsibility, they carry the spirit of the pledge into everyday life.

Environmental awareness, too, reflects national responsibility. Protecting the archipelago’s natural beauty and resources is part of preserving the homeland promised in the first vow — one motherland, Indonesia.

The pledge also urges us to respect history. Forgetting history is not just neglect; it risks repeating the mistakes of the past. Remembering the struggles of those who came before us nurtures gratitude and humility.

Art and literature remain timeless messengers of unity. Through music, poetry, and storytelling, generations can translate the ideals of the pledge into emotional experiences that resonate beyond the classroom or ceremony.

The youth’s courage in 1928 stands as an example of visionary leadership — leadership rooted in values, not power. Their selflessness and foresight contrast sharply with modern political opportunism, reminding us that leadership must be service, not ambition.

Social harmony depends on empathy. The ability to listen and understand others, especially those with differing views or backgrounds, is the essence of living the pledge in daily life.

Gender equality also forms part of this ongoing journey. Empowering young women alongside men ensures that the national project of unity and progress is inclusive and just. Equal does not mean the same, but rather according to each person's portion.

Modern youth movements can reinterpret the pledge in creative ways — through digital campaigns, social entrepreneurship, and volunteerism — proving that the spirit of 1928 can evolve with time.

The pledge is not merely a document of unity; it is a declaration of responsibility. It calls upon citizens to act ethically, think critically, and collaborate sincerely in building a future worthy of sacrifice.

Hope remains its most enduring message. Despite divisions, economic inequality, and political turbulence, the pledge reminds us that optimism and perseverance can overcome adversity.

Faith, both spiritual and civic, binds the ideals of the pledge. It gives the youth strength to believe that collective goodness is not naïve — it is transformative.

The Youth Pledge stands as both a mirror and a compass. It reflects who we are and guides where we must go. In moments of doubt, it reminds us that unity has always been Indonesia’s greatest strength.

As Indonesia continues to evolve, the meaning of the Youth Pledge must evolve too — not to dilute its essence, but to ensure it remains relevant in an era of innovation, diversity, and globalisation.

The spirit of 1928 endures because it speaks to something timeless: the human longing to belong, to contribute, and to build together. In that longing lies the heart of the Indonesian nation.

The Youth Pledge also reminds us that nationalism is not blind loyalty but enlightened love. It is not about worshipping symbols but defending values — integrity, equality, and compassion. These are the very qualities that allow a nation to flourish beyond slogans.

When the youth of 1928 said “One Language,” they weren’t rejecting diversity — they were building understanding. Bahasa Indonesia became a bridge, not a boundary. It connected hearts that had long been separated by geography and colonial rule.

Today’s generation must reinterpret that unity. Speaking one language does not mean thinking the same; it means communicating with empathy. It means using words to heal, not to hurt.

The digital era has turned speech into power. Tweets can build or destroy; captions can unite or divide. The spirit of the Youth Pledge must therefore guide how we communicate — with responsibility and awareness.

Those young dreamers of 1928 believed in a nation that did not yet exist. They declared its unity before it was politically real. That was faith — not in certainty, but in possibility.

Faith like that is rare now. Too often, young people believe only in what they can monetise. But the Youth Pledge teaches us that some dreams are worth believing in even when they cannot be sold.

The movement was not about ego; it was about ego’s surrender to something greater. They let go of tribal pride to embrace a shared identity — Indonesia.

And that surrender did not make them smaller — it made them infinite. They discovered that the self expands when it serves something larger than itself.

Our challenge is to rediscover that sacred humility in a noisy, self-promoting world. True greatness begins not with self-branding, but with self-offering.

History does not remember the influencers who chase trends; it remembers those who create meaning. The youth of 1928 were meaning-makers, not trend-followers.

They didn’t have sponsors or hashtags, but they had conviction. And conviction, once lit, burns longer than any viral content.

The Youth Pledge also embodies courage — the courage to imagine a united future amid colonial control and disunity. That act of imagination itself was resistance.

Courage today may not mean facing bayonets, but it does mean facing indifference, cynicism, and fear of change.

The young generation must dare to think beyond survival — to build, not just exist. For as long as youth only adapt without creating, the nation will stagnate.

Each generation has its own colonialism. Theirs was political; ours may be digital — the slavery of attention, the colonisation of the mind.

To free ourselves, we must reclaim focus, purpose, and connection to reality. The Youth Pledge calls us back to consciousness.

Unity does not mean uniformity; diversity is not division. This is the mature understanding the pledge invites us to embrace. We are one people because we choose to share one destiny—not because we erase our differences. That shared destiny must now include justice for all, care for the earth, and dignity for the weak. Otherwise, the pledge remains incomplete.

The youth of today must renew the pledge not only in words but in deeds—in environmental action, social responsibility, and moral integrity. If the 1928 generation fought for independence, then this generation must fight for conscience.

Independence is not a relic; it is a rhythm—one that must be replayed in every age, in every act of courage and kindness. And the melody of that rhythm is unity — always fragile, always worth protecting.

So on this Youth Pledge Day, let us not only look back with nostalgia but look forward with purpose. The work of the past is the foundation; the task of the present is continuation. Let us remember that a pledge is a living promise. It breathes only when we act upon it.

And when our hearts repeat that sacred vow—“One Homeland, One Nation, One Language”—may it no longer be just a memory, but a movement. Because Indonesia will always be young—as long as its youth keep believing.

The Youth Pledge remains a living testament that the courage of the young can shape a nation’s destiny. Its message is timeless because the challenges it addresses — unity, justice, and responsibility—never truly vanish. It reminds us that every generation has the duty to reinterpret its ideals in ways that respond to contemporary realities. The pledge is not frozen in 1928; it evolves with each citizen who breathes life into its words.

In a world of constant change, it is easy to feel powerless. Yet the pledge teaches that collective commitment, however small in scale, creates ripples of transformation that endure beyond individual lifetimes.

May the youth of Indonesia continue to honour this sacred promise by acting with empathy, integrity, and vision. Let them build bridges where there are divides, light where there is darkness, and hope where despair lingers.

Ultimately, the Youth Pledge is more than a historical milestone—it is an invitation. An invitation to serve, to unite, and to believe in the possibility of a better, stronger Indonesia.

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