Bill Guerin, Jakarta – Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky said "there is no subject so old that something new cannot be said about it". The long-running, serialized saga of Indonesia's "Baligate" scandal, however, leaves little new to be said.

As Bank Indonesian Governor Sjahril Sabirin stands now in the dock of a North Jakarta court, with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) team a few miles away in the center of the capital, revisiting the epic shows the passage of time has changed little in Indonesia. The scandal reached out to two presidents, several ministers and top officials from the Bank of Indonesia and the Indonesian Bank Restructuring Agency (IBRA). It spread outwards to Washington, the IMF and the World Bank.

The plot could not be simpler. In early 1999, one of the country's oldest and largest banks, Bank Bali, paid PT Era Giat Prima (EGP) a "commission" of 546 billion rupiah (US$48 million at current rates) to help it collect 946 billion rupiah from a government agency that was already mandated to make such a payment. Although not unusual in the standard operating procedures in the corridors of power, this transaction was highly suspicious as the interbank loans were guaranteed by the central bank, Bank Indonesia, itself now under the microscope for having failed dismally to control and monitor the vast amounts of rupiah disbursed to ailing banks under the Bank Indonesia Liquidity Assistance Program (BLBI) program.

But Baligate grabbed the headlines because EGP just happened to be partly owned by the deputy treasurer of the then ruling Golkar party, Setya Novanto. Faced by increasing media pressure, Novanto and his business partner Djoko Tjandra, as owners of PT Era Giat Prima, knew what to do. They quickly arranged to repay the 546 billion rupiah to Bank Bali.

The media would have none of this. The idea that it was enough for a thief just to pay back what he had stolen sparked off intense media investigations into the "actors" and it was concluded that then president B J Habibie's informal re-election committee, Tim Sukses (Team Success), was to have benefited from the 546 billion rupiah to buy off a majority share of votes in the People's Consultative Assembly (MPR).

Golkar fancied its chances at getting their man Habibie re-elected, so the ensuing alarm and despondency was easy to predict. This was at a time, remember, before the Indonesian public was bemused and punch-drunk with politics, and the issue generated immense public interest. The mere possibility of the World Bank canceling a $43 billion bail-out was enough to concentrate the minds and seriously endanger Habibie's presidential candidacy. Habibie was at first defiant, saying that it was not his business to know the details – "I don't care where the money went; the bank owner has every right to use the money as he sees fit."

The World Bank and the IMF cranked up pressure for an independent, public inquiry into the fiasco. World Bank Indonesia director, Mark Baird, called on the Habibie government to "publicly reveal all information about the case and prosecute those involved", adding that "this matter needs to be resolved not only because of the large sums of money involved, but also because of the greater confidence and credibility issues at stake".

That August 16, IMF deputy managing director Stanley Fischer joined the attack by insisting "a satisfactory resolution of the Bank Bali case requires a thorough and independent investigation to be completed as soon as possible". The next day, economic supremo Ginandjar Kartasasmita, himself currently under investigation for graft, was virtually ordered, in writing, to allow international accounting experts PricewaterhouseCoopers (PWC) to audit not only IBRA but also Bank Indonesia.

PWC, faced by obstruction at every turn, did the audit and eventually Satrio Yudono, chief of the Supreme Audit Agency, made a 36-page summary public. Yudono, in spite of the IMF and World Bank thundering, refused to make public the full report on the scandal, ludicrously citing banking secrecy laws as the reason. Both the IMF and the World Bank immediately suspended loans to Indonesia, although they opened up the taps again after a 200-page version of the PWC report was made public by the government

Besides the suspension of IMF and World Bank credits, the scandal and political overtones were a body-blow to IBRA's program of recapitalizing and selling off distressed banks. As rebuilding the collapsed banking sector was, and still remains, a keystone of the policies to kick-start Indonesia's economy, things began to get nasty.

The MPR was set to choose the next president two months on, in November, and Megawati Sukarnoputri's Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P), realizing they had a golden bullet, promptly claimed that one of Habibie's younger brothers, four Cabinet ministers, two Golkar party leaders and five businessmen were directly involved in the Bank Bali transaction. The PDI-P went further, saying they had "complete and accurate information" and "concrete facts" describing "where and when the suspects met and what they discussed and agreed to commit". They later did just that, by publishing the evidence.

Rudy Ramli, the owner of Bank Bali, was investigated by the police and quickly dropped his bombshell. He named Finance Minister Bambang Subianto, Bank Indonesia Governor Sjahril Sabirin, State Minister of the Empowerment of State Enterprises Tanri Abeng, head of the Supreme Advisory Council (DPA) A A Baramuli, Habibie's younger brother Timmy Habibie, IBRA deputy chairman Pande Lubis and five top businessmen as being involved in the case. Phew! The die was cast.

Golkar was in turmoil. The backstabbing started, with deputy chairman Marzuki Darusman, later to become President Abdurrahman Wahid's Attorney-General, accused of leaking details of the scandal. The House of Representatives, at that time dominated by Golkar, grilled Subianto and IBRA chief Glenn Yusuf over details of the Bank Bali deal.

Wahid, at the time leader of the National Awakening Party (PKB), and heading Indonesia's largest Muslim organization, the 30 million-strong Nahdlatul Ummat (NU), repositioned himself by rescinding his July 21 statement supporting PDI-P's candidate Megawati. The timing of the announcement was hardly a coincidence. With Habibie as a candidate, the Muslim parties were the swing vote and with Habibie floored by the scandal, the Muslims could field their own candidate, confident that Golkar members would choose virtually anyone over Megawati. Weak law enforcement meant that months were wasted trying to finesse the case into the civil courts, notwithstanding that Indonesians knew by now that such corruption was a highly sophisticated practice which cleverly juggled laws, decrees and government institutions to illicitly siphon off state funds. When the dust finally settled, trials of the major suspects began.

Djoko, of course, was the prime suspect, but when his trial started on August 28 last year, in the infamous South Jakarta court, it was clear that the Attorney-General, Marzuki Darusman, had been unable to get his act together. The prosecutor, Ridwan Moekiat, was banished to retirement when the media went after him for his irrelevant questioning of 50 of the 56 witnesses in the case. Worse, the same reporters proved Ridwan's previous implication in a corruption scandal involving the selling of court evidence in the form of land worth billions of rupiah.

Judge Soedarto freed Djoko of all charges over a legal technicality. In acquitting the man widely seen as the main mover of the "money swap", this judge dealt a body blow to any remaining credibility and belief in the upholding of justice. As well as shocking Indonesians themselves, and the free world, Soedarto sent a signal to the other suspects – and the corruptors waiting in the wings – that white-collar crime does indeed pay.

It is hardly far-fetched to relate this decision to the later increase in mob justice. Few Indonesians have any faith in the legal system or in the police, and at the lower end of the social strata, frequently dish out instant and savage justice to thieves.

Djoko had been charged, as the former president of EGP, with influencing other suspects in the case to illegally channel the 546 billion rupiah from the insolvent Bank Bali to his own company. The judge also effectively ruled that the money belonged to Djoko, and suggested the government should pursue the freed man in the civil courts.

In the same court in November, Pande Lubis, the former deputy head of IBRA, was also found not guilty on all counts, as the prosecution had "failed to establish guilt". The prosecution appealed over both verdicts. Appeals were heard, Djoko's only last week, but the verdicts were confirmed: No crime committed.

Oddly, this scandal has not coughed up the usual suspect, a kambing hitam (scapegoat) to protect the key players, but the result is the same. There has been no speedy justice or even any justice at all, seen to be done.

Although Bank Indonesia Governor Sabirin, now being tried on accusations of ordering one of his directors, Erman Munzir, to disburse the 904 billion rupiah direct to Bank Bali (notwithstanding that IBRA had not called for the payment to be made), the odds greatly favor a not-guilty verdict. If he is acquitted, the story will end, buried and swept under the carpet, and of interest only to the busy historians. The visiting IMF team will have little, if anything to say. They fondly imagined they could mend the ways of a power elite well versed in cover-ups and who cared little about any threat to withdraw aid to their country.

Teten, crusading leader of the Indonesian Corruption Watch (ICW), has the last word, "The January 1999 cessie [assignment of rights] contract was used as an instrument to commit corruption."

Baligate, then, touched all Indonesians, in one way or another, and if it had been kept under wraps, may have changed the course of destiny. Habibie, with his enormous support from Golkar and the moneyed elite, may well have been re-elected and, for better or worse, led his country towards a different fate.