Jeremy Wagstaff, Jakarta – Indonesia's election commission, formed to break the national tradition of stage-managed votes, has been riven by infighting, indecision and allegations of corruption. It has resulted in an election system that, while much better than the old one, is a patchwork structure that falls short of the hoped-for overhaul.

Problems faced by the 53-member National Election Commission, or KPU, have ranged from the serious to the absurd: It canceled an audit of political-party spending after some commission members objected to it – on behalf of their parties. Commission funds have been disbursed so slowly that some local election boards have been forced to accept donations to operate. And as recently as Tuesday, election officials said they must retest some of the "indelible" ink used to mark voters, following reports that it can be washed off with water.

The idea was for the KPU "to be a neutral body, like everywhere else," says Miriam Budiardjo, a veteran political scientist and member of the government's election monitoring committee. "But instead it's become a vehicle for political parties."

Limited time, big task

This isn't to say that Indonesia's election can't take place on time or fairly. Armed forces chief Gen. Wiranto said Tuesday that polling would be delayed in only "a few districts," and that because of unrest. Indeed, the campaign has been relatively smooth, considering some of the dire predictions for wide-scale violence or bloodshed. That in itself is remarkable – the commission, formed in March, had less than three months to organize Indonesia's freest election in nearly half a century. The commission was a keystone in President B.J. Habibie's goal of persuading Indonesians and the world he is serious about democratic reform. He selected respected academics to draw up fresh election laws, and designed a commission to implement them that was meant to be independent and responsive. A centerpiece was the fact that every political party would have a seat on the commission – the goal being that any election fine-tuning would be smooth and accepted by everyone.

Political tool

What the designers didn't account for was self-interest. Instead of appointing deputies to sit on the KPU, at least a third of the 48 party leaders appointed themselves, turning it into more of a mini-parliament than a technical body. The result: a slew of rulings that have benefited parties at the expense of a transparent and straightforward election. "They sometimes behave like a supreme body," says Andi Mallarangeng, who helped draft some of the election laws and now sits on the commission as a government appointee.

But for some smaller parties, the commission has been a boon. It has allowed KPU member and politician Agus Miftach to forge deals with other parties and ensure nothing is decided that may harm his tiny Indonesian People's Party. For instance, on Monday the commission decided to delay by five days a deadline for announcing vote-swapping accords, a move that would allow smaller parties to pool votes but may not give them enough time to explain their arrangements to voters and election officials.

"This is a political opportunity," Mr. Miftach says in his Jakarta party headquarters. "Politics is not black and white. Politics is high flexibility."

Such issues have left a backlog of other matters, such as funding the election. Some volunteer officials at the subdistrict level say they haven't received funds from the commission to organize voter registration. In the Jakarta suburb of Menteng, for example, officials say they have only been able to complete their work with a 10-million-rupiah ($1.2 million) donation from the governor's office.

"We've received no money from the KPU so far," says election official Saudi. "We suspect that someone somewhere is earning some nice deposit rate on the funds right now."

Suspicion is rife

Suspicion is rife, too, within the KPU itself. Members openly accuse each other of wanting to derail the election; politician members accuse government appointees to the commission of favoring one party over another. And KPU members say they are suspicious of the commission's predecessor, the LPU, which they say awarded contracts that don't stand up to scrutiny.

As a result, a lot of the work that the LPU did ahead of time has been reviewed, some of it within days of the election. Mr. Miftach, a member of a subcommittee responsible for procurement, says he has personally reviewed several contracts that suggested possible corruption. "I don't have any proof yet," he says, but adds, "If I can, I will certainly take action."

The KPU itself has become the target of similar allegations. Some of the 18 companies that won contracts to print the more than 400 million ballot papers, for example, say they have been required to pay between 20% and 60% of the value of the contract in bribes, company executives say.

One executive of a printing company says he has received payment for only 20% of the 50 million ballot papers he printed. "The actual amount I do end up receiving and the amount they keep is negotiable," he said, asking that his company not be identified. Mr. Miftach denies such allegations. "Not one rupiah has gone to a KPU member," he says.

Corruption was a feature of the Indonesian government under former President Suharto, who stepped down under pressure a year ago, and few Indonesians are surprised that there are similar allegations now. But given the KPU's high profile and the government's desire for probity, the talk is a blow to those members who hoped to show a clean break with the past.

Hasballah M. Saad, a member of the National Mandate Party and a KPU member, says he has heard of the allegations, but can't do much about it. "This could be the last time for us to get it right," he says. "Otherwise people might never believe in us again."