Prison Turned Palace: When Punishment Becomes a Five-Star Service
In a country like Indonesia, which professes a deep commitment to justice, prison can mean something far more flexible than any law dictionary would suggest. It is no longer a place of correction for the guilty. Still, it has blossomed into an exclusive villa, complete with air conditioning, a double-door fridge and—because one's quality of life must be maintained—a private golf simulator. The Ombudsman, arriving on a visit, was left rather taken aback, as though he had stumbled upon an unlisted branch of Airbnb: "Prison, but with five-star reviews." It would seem that, behind bars, justice can indeed be purchased in weekly instalments.
The Sultan Inmate and His Little Kingdom
Let us call him the Sultan Inmate—a fitting title for a prisoner whose standard of living has, remarkably, improved since his conviction. His cell no longer smells of damp and confinement, but of air freshener, arranged as neatly as a five-star hotel room. In one corner, a fridge hums quietly, stocked with imported snacks. In another, a golf simulator stands proudly, ready to accompany afternoons that are supposedly steeped in remorse. If punishment is meant to deter, then perhaps the only ones truly deterred are the ordinary people who hear of it from beyond the perimeter fence.
The Warder Who Became a Concierge
What completes this transformation so neatly is the shift in the role of prison staff. No longer mere gatekeepers of iron doors, they have metamorphosed into concierge warders—figures who, with a courteous smile, offer a "premium residency package" complete with an unwritten price list. Fancy a larger cell? There's a rate for that. Fancy coming and going for personal errands? It can be arranged, provided communication flows smoothly. The function of rehabilitation has quietly given way to the function of service, and the prison has become something akin to a transit hotel for those who can afford the comfort.
The Ombudsman: A Tourist Lost in a Prison Airbnb
Whenever such news leaks to the public, a delegation of independent watchdogs duly arrives, faces solemn and notebooks in hand. Unfortunately, their expressions tend to resemble those of tourists who have just landed somewhere entirely unexpected: full of astonishment, faintly nervous, and repeatedly asking, "Is this really a prison?" They photograph the air conditioning units fixed to the cell walls, note down the make of the fridge, and then compile a report that, for reasons unclear, rarely changes very much at all. The inspection becomes an annual ritual, while the premium amenities carry on operating as usual the moment the delegation departs.
A Global Phenomenon: From Sukamiskin to Elsewhere
This phenomenon of the luxury prison is by no means confined to one country. It is, in fact, something of a global trend, born of a combination of money, power and lax oversight. A few examples serve to season the satire:
Indonesia — The 2018 Sukamiskin Prison scandal revealed how inmates convicted of corruption could enjoy luxurious facilities within their cells, and even secure permission to come and go with ease.
The Philippines — In 2014, a raid on the New Bilibid Prison uncovered cells fitted with jacuzzis, saunas and even a private recording studio.
Venezuela — San Antonio Prison was once known to house a swimming pool, a nightclub and even a basketball court, all run by an influential inmate.
Mexico — Inmates affiliated with drug cartels have reportedly lived amid lavish facilities, complete with grand parties held within the prison compound.
Italy — Several mafia figures have served their sentences in cells that resemble private apartments rather more than places of confinement.
This recurring pattern across different countries points to a single common thread: wherever prison oversight is weak and money finds an easy way in, prisons cease to be spaces of justice and become, instead, a black market for comfort.
When Bureaucracy Becomes a Broker of Comfort
Behind every neatly installed golf simulator lies a chain of bureaucracy that allowed it through the gates. Petty bribery dismissed as mere "custom", oversight that stops at paperwork, and sanctions that rarely touch those truly responsible—all of this creates an ecosystem in which the prison shifts from a correctional institution into something resembling a black market for comfort. What is being traded is not simply goods, but something far more valuable: exemption from the very hardship that punishment is meant to impose.
Closing Thoughts: Justice Measured by the Thickness of One's Wallet
If the prison has become a palace, then ordinary people are left to watch from beyond the fence, discovering that a punishment they had imagined to be harsh and deterring can, in fact, come fitted with a fridge and air conditioning for those able to pay. In this country, it would seem, justice is no longer a matter of right or wrong, but of how thick one's wallet happens to be. And so long as warders can still play the role of receptionists, and inspections remain little more than an annual sightseeing trip, one should hardly be surprised if, before long, someone innocently asks whether the next prison will be offering a loyalty scheme, complete with reward points for one's stay.
