Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Chapter 16: The Vote Count – Transparency in Action

As soon as the polling centers in Indonesia closed at 2:00 PM, the focus shifted swiftly and seamlessly to the next critical phase: the counting of votes. Unlike in some parts of the world where the canvassing process is delayed or done behind closed doors, in the polling precincts I observed in Jember, East Java, the vote counting began on-site and immediately—openly, publicly, and in full view of both party watchers and ordinary citizens.


This level of transparency was one of the most inspiring aspects of the Indonesian electoral process. In every polling station I visited, the Komite Pemilihan Pemungutan Suara (KPPS), or the local Board of Election Inspectors, prepared for the count with an almost ceremonial seriousness. Before any ballots were touched, they conducted a brief but solemn prayer—an earnest invocation for peace, fairness, and truthfulness to prevail. This simple act of collective supplication, reminiscent of the Indonesian people’s deep spiritual grounding, set the tone for what was to follow.


The ballots were then unsealed in full view of everyone present. Each vote was read aloud by the KPPS and held up for verification. A row of party representatives, known as saksi, closely observed every move. They took down the results individually, each one maintaining their own independent record. There were no loud objections, no attempts to disrupt the process, and certainly no hint of intimidation. The saksi sat in patient scrutiny, ready to challenge any perceived irregularity, but they did so with a quiet dignity and restraint that was both commendable and rare in my own experiences back home.


The process was slow and methodical—but that was its strength. The KPPS and the saksi ensured that every vote was properly recorded and verified. The Indonesian ballots were unique in that they used symbols for each political party rather than just names, and the voter would use a six-inch nail to punch a hole through the symbol of their chosen party. While initially this seemed crude, it proved to be surprisingly effective, especially in ensuring clarity and minimizing error. There was little room for misinterpretation, as the puncture made by the voter was a definitive mark.


When comparing this to the Philippine method of voting at that time, I was struck by how simple yet sensible the Indonesian approach was. Our ballots in the Philippines had long been criticized for being prone to ambiguity, overvotes, and even manipulation. Here in Indonesia, despite using basic materials—ballot boxes made of ordinary plywood, handwritten tally sheets, and minimal technology—the system worked because it was anchored on trust and public verification.


Another detail that impressed me was the finality of the count. After the tallying of votes, all results were documented in multiple copies, and each of the seven party saksi had to sign off on the final election return. It wasn’t just the electoral officials who took accountability—it was the parties themselves. This collective affirmation of the results, on the spot and in public, reduced room for disputes later on.


While watching the vote count unfold, I could feel a deep respect for the process welling within me. It was democracy practiced not just in form, but in spirit. Every step was observed, every procedure followed, and every vote respected. The absence of sophisticated election technology did not diminish the credibility of the process—in fact, it enhanced it. The people could see for themselves how the election unfolded, how their votes were counted, and who won or lost in their communities.


It was also heartening to note how citizens lingered after voting, choosing to witness the counting process. This active civic participation showed a growing political maturity, a sense that democracy is not just about casting a ballot but about staying vigilant throughout the process.


As a Filipino who has witnessed elections that sometimes end in violence, chaos, or controversy, I was deeply moved. Transparency and simplicity, I realized, are the keys to trust in the electoral process. The Indonesians had embraced these principles with admirable discipline and grace.


This chapter in their history, this day of reckoning for democracy, was not just an administrative event—it was a communal celebration of political empowerment. And for us, as Filipino observers, it served as a lesson: that democracy need not be loud to be legitimate, nor complex to be credible. Sometimes, the best systems are the ones that rely not on machines or money, but on people—committed, honest, and united in purpose.


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