Introduction

Political parties constitute a central element within the architecture of democratic governance, functioning as channels for the articulation of societal interests, mechanisms for elite recruitment and instruments for shaping governmental direction. Yet this strategically significant position also renders political parties particularly vulnerable to becoming loci of corruption. A growing body of research demonstrates that corrupt practices do not merely involve the misuse of public office by individual actors; rather, they are often intrinsically linked to the financial demands of political competition and the organisational consolidation of party networks, as noted in the study by Latumaerissa dan Saimima [1]. Likewise, Ashsyarofi underscores that corruption involving political parties frequently assumes an institutional character, given that the resulting benefits are commonly enjoyed collectively by the organisation [2].

In the Indonesian legal context, the strengthening of corporate criminal liability has gained renewed normative grounding with the enactment of the National Criminal Code (Law No. 1 of 2023). The recognition of corporations as subjects of criminal liability was first introduced through Supreme Court Regulation No. 13 of 2016, yet the new Criminal Code provides a more systematic framework for attributing fault to legal persons. Previous research—such as that of Anindito and Suhariyanto identifies several theoretical models of liability, including identification theory, vicarious liability and the corporate culture model, which may be applied to prosecute corporations, including political parties, where corrupt conduct is committed for organisational benefit [3].

When attention is directed specifically towards political parties, however, the implementation of corporate criminal liability in Indonesia continues to encounter fundamental challenges. observes that the wrong prosecution of political parties has not been operative due to several factors: their hybrid position between close judicial entities and direct institutions , concerns about the political implications of wrong sanctions and the absence of express formulations within sectoral regulations. Profianto (2025) further confirms that liability thus continues to be personalized in practice [4], and by Yu Zeng (2022) oncurs that prescriptive restructuring is necessary to allow political parties to be processed as institutional actors [5]. Obstacles in the form of the lack of effective control After Soeharto was ousted in 1998, the legislative response was rapid.

At the global level, developments in different jurisdictions offer rich relative insights. France, for instance, has adopted a extensive model of corporate wrong liability through Article 121-2 of the Code pénal , which permits the prosecution of legal persons including political parties as entities adequate of deriving benefit from wrong activities. Wickberg and Phélippeau (2025) explains how France combines this regime with harsh supervision of political finance [6], Shiman (2025) demonstrates that such an approach provides a powerful doctrinal foundation for treating political parties as corporate offenders [7]. This comparative experience is especially instructive because it illustrates how legal doctrine, institutional practice and political oversight can interact to form a coherent and enforceable liability regime.

When contrasted with Indonesia, a clear gap emerges between the normative recognition of corporations as subjects of criminal liability and the practical reality that political parties are scarcely ever processed as legal entities in corruption cases. Studies by Athallah et al., (2025) show that discourse on the criminal liability of political parties in Indonesia remains largely theoretical and has not yet developed into an operational enforcement instrument, thus leaving an important regulatory ambition largely unfulfilled [8].In light of this context, the present study pursues three primary objectives:

(1) to analyse the construction of criminal liability for political parties in corruption offences under Indonesia’s National Criminal Code; (2) to examine the model of political-party criminal liability within the French legal system; and(3) to formulate a comparative analysis between the two jurisdictions in order to identify a model of political-party liability that is more effective and responsive to the dynamics of political corruption.

Met hod

This research employs a normative juridical method, which relies on the examination of statutory provisions, legal doctrines and relevant scholarly literature. This method is selected because the issue under study concerns the normative construction of corporate criminal liability and the position of political parties as subjects of criminal law in corruption offences. A statute-based approach is used to analyse the provisions of Indonesia’s National Criminal Code, particularly those governing corporations as subjects of criminal offences, as well as sectoral regulations such as Supreme Court Regulation No. 13 of 2016. This analysis is supported by a conceptual approach drawing on theories of corporate criminal liability as discussed by Anindito and Suhariyanto.

To provide a further extensive perspective , the research also adopts a relative approach by examining the French judicial system, focusing on Article 121-2 of the Code pénal, which regulates the wrong liability of judicial persons. This relative inquiry is reinforced by academic analyses that describe the French model of corporate wrong liability, including the works of Wickberg and Phélippeau (2025) and Shiman (2025). Through this approach, the study seeks to identify differences in structure , enforcement mechanisms and the gross effectiveness of political party liability in both jurisdictions , even where the lines are not entirely straightforward.

The primary legal materials used in this study include the National Criminal Code (Law No . 1 of 2023), the Anti Corruption Law, and the French Code pénal . high materials consist of accredited SINTA journal articles, textbooks on corporate wrong law and different pertinent theoretical publications . All materials are analysed qualitatively using judicial interpretation techniques in order to construct reasoned arguments adequate of addressing the objectives of the research.

Result and Discussion

A. Political Parties as Subjects of Corporate Criminal Liability

Political parties are, in essence, organisations established to pursue political power and to realise particular ideological aims within society. In practice, they do not consist merely of a collection of individuals; rather, they develop formal and relatively permanent structures, maintain financial mechanisms and perform organisational functions that closely resemble those of corporations as understood in modern criminal law. Contemporary  scholarly discourse no longer confines the notion of a corporation to inferior enterprises alone, but extends it to any organisation possessing structure , continuity and the capacity to act within the open sphere. This broader conception aligns with the findings of Latumaerissa dan Saimima (2020) who observe that political parties often operate with institutional logics no less complex than those found in private sector entities [1].

The link between political parties and corruption cannot be reduced to the misconduct of rogue individuals; rather, organisational dynamics frequently create opportunities and incentives for unlawful conduct intended to strengthen party interests. Ashsyarofi (2021) demonstrates that corruption is often employed to meet operational needs—campaign financing, internal consolidation or efforts to maintain political influence [2]. This phenomenon corresponds with recent studies on Indonesia’s social and cultural structure of corruption, which demonstrate that corrupt behaviour often arises from structural pressures, internal tolerance and the gradual normalisation of unethical practices within political and bureaucratic institutions [9]. These insights reinforce the idea that corruption may evolve into a pattern rooted not in personal immorality alone but in broader institutional expectations and organisational pressures.

Looking more closely, political parties possess core attributes that qualify them for corporate criminal liability. They have formal statutes and bylaws, defined leadership hierarchies, collective decision-making processes and identifiable streams of internal and external funding. These features mirror the definition of “corporation” contained in Supreme Court Regulation No. 13 of 2016, which describes a corporation broadly as any organised group of persons and/or assets, regardless of whether it possesses legal personality. Normatively, therefore, there is no principled justification for exempting political parties from corporate criminal liability merely because they operate in the political sphere.

Anindito, (2017) explains that liability can be imposed where organisational actors act within the scope of their duties or for the organisation’s benefit—a principle reflected in the identification theory [3]. Yet corrupt conduct frequently originates from lower-level actors who do not represent the organisation’s “directing mind”, making the doctrine of vicarious liability relevant. Ramadhan et al., (2025) emphasises the corporate culture model, which attributes organisational blame to internal norms, routines or ethnic patterns that tolerate or facilitate wrongdoing [10].

These observations are reinforced by Indonesian research on organisational culture in corruption prevention , which shows that anaemic moral frameworks, toothless internal controls and tolerance for informal practices can create an environment where corrupt behaviour becomes general within political institutions [11]. The relevance of this model is peculiarly apparent in Indonesia , where parties often face continual fundraising pressures that incentivise or normalise unbecoming financial practices.

The difficulty , however , lies not in the notional qualification of political parties as corporate offenders but in the hard nosed reluctance of law enforcement to treat them as such . Many corruption cases distinctly yield benefits for political parties , yet prosecutions typically focus only on individual actors , thus creating the perception that parties enjoy functional immunity. This gap may be due to political sensitivities or institutional hesitation, particularly where sanctioning a major party is believed to risk political instability. Nevertheless, numerous scholars warn that a lack of institutional accountability ultimately presents a greater threat to democratic integrity than the temporary discomfort induced by prosecution.

B. Forms of Criminal Liability of Political Parties under Indonesia’s National Criminal Code

The regulation of corporate criminal liability in Indonesia’s National Criminal Code (Law No. 1 of 2023) provides a renewed direction for the reform of national criminal law, particularly in relation to the expansion of criminal subjects. Although the Code does not explicitly list political parties within the category of corporations, its normative construction is sufficiently broad to encompass such entities. The Code defines a “corporation” as any organised group of persons and/or assets, whether possessing judicial personality or not. This comprehensive definition enables political parties to be treated as subjects of wrong liability provided that the wrong act is connected to organisational conduct or results in a benefit accruing to the organisation.

Legal scholarship, including the commentary of Yu Zeng (2022), views the recognition of corporations as subjects of wrong offences as a forward moving step for addressing synchronous forms of collective wrongdoing committed through organisational structures. Yu Zeng (2022) stresses that criminal law is no longer effective if it continues to target only individual perpetrators, especially where the primary advantage of the offence flows to a larger entity such as a company, business institution or, indeed, a political party [5]. A similar critique is offered by Profianto (2025) who argues that the persistent personalisation of liability obscures the structural roots of misconduct and creates a degree of impunity for organisations that derive benefit from criminal activity [4].

The new Criminal Code also provides several models of attribution that may be applied to impose criminal liability on political parties. The first is the identification theory, which regards the conduct of key officials or senior managers as the conduct of the organisation itself. For example, if a party chairperson or treasurer orders or approves conduct associated with corruption—such as accepting illegal funds, receiving gratuities or manipulating budget allocations—that conduct may be attributed to the political party as a whole. This model is highly relevant in Indonesia, where authority within political parties is often centralised among a small group of elites.

The second model, secondary liability, allows an organisation to be held causative for the actions of its members or representatives even when such actions were not explicitly authorised by party leadership . In the context of political parties, this model is peculiarly pivotal given that many corruption offences are committed by actors at territorial levels or even volunteers acting “on behalf of” the party without express instructions. Nevertheless, liability may still attach to the organisation if it is proven that the party obtained a benefit from the conduct—for example, enhanced political support, campaign resources or financial gain. Studies examining this model in Indonesia, such as the analysis by Athallah et al,, (2025) suggest that attribution should not be applied too narrowly, as the essential consideration is whether the organisation received an advantage [8].

The third model is the corporate culture theory, which Quinn et al., (2024) identifies as the most suitable for application to political parties. This approach looks not merely at individual actions but at internal norms, organisational culture and internal supervisory mechanisms. For instance, where a political party consistently fails to monitor the sources of its campaign funds or lacks adequate internal audit mechanisms, such deficiencies may amount to corporate fault. In this sense, structural negligence or a culture of “turning a blind eye” within the party can form the basis of criminal liability for the organisation. This approach is more realistic within Indonesia’s political ecosystem, where internal accountability tends to be weak and informal practices are often tolerated [12].

Beyond providing theoretical foundations, the National Criminal Code sets out the types of sanctions that may be imposed on corporations. These include fines, restitution, the confiscation of gains obtained from criminal activity, suspension of activities and even dissolution. Several of these sanctions may be applied to political parties, although certain forms—such as dissolution—carry obvious political sensitivities. In many cases, sanctions such as fines or confiscation of illicit gains appear far more appropriate, given that corruption within political parties often involves the acquisition of unlawful financial resources.

Nonetheless, the primary difficulty does not lie in the provisions of the Code itself but in the absence of implementing regulations that specifically address the criminal prosecution of political parties. For example, Supreme Court Regulation No. 13 of 2016 sets out procedures for handling corporate criminal cases, yet it does not explicitly mention political parties. As a result, law enforcement officials remain hesitant to apply this framework when the subject is a political party. This ambiguity creates a significant legal gap: the normative instrument exists, but the operational basis for prosecuting political parties remains underdeveloped.

This situation is further complicated by political factors. Political parties hold legislative power, which often slows the pace of judicial reform in this area and creates an impression that progress is purposely stalled . Some observers describe this as a “deliberate blind spot,” given that prosecuting political parties may disrupt political stability or undermine the interests of actors occupying parliamentary positions . In practice , law enforcement tends to focus on individuals kinda than party organisations, avoiding the broader political tension that could arise from institutional prosecution.

In reviewing the patterns of law enforcement to date, it becomes clear that the criminal prosecution of political parties has not been treated as a priority. Numerous major corruption cases involve senior party officials, yet the benefits of these offences flow institutionally to the party, while criminal liability remains confined to individual perpetrators. From the perspective of modern criminal law, liability should not end with individuals when demonstrable gains accrue to an organisation.

Accordingly, although the National Criminal Code provides a comprehensive normative structure and a set of attribution doctrines, its application to political parties still faces significant obstacles. Delays in regulatory reform, the absence of concrete implementing mechanisms and the realities of political power prevent the effective operationalisation of criminal liability for political parties. The next section will illustrate how other jurisdictions—particularly France—have adopted clearer and more enforceable models of corporate criminal liability.

C. Criminal Liability of Political Parties in the French Legal System

France is widely regarded as one of the most influential jurisdictions in discussions of corporate criminal liability, particularly when the subject involves political parties. The country moved away from the traditional individual-focused approach long ago, and since the major reform of the Code pénal in 1994, legal persons have been explicitly recognised as subjects of criminal liability under Article 121-2. The provision states that “legal persons… may be held criminally liable for offences committed on their behalf by their organs or representatives.” Although the rule appears straightforward, it has far-reaching implications for the State’s ability to prosecute organisational entities, including political parties that frequently benefit from offences committed by their officials or members.

According to the analysis of Wickberg and Phélippeau (2025) one of the principal strengths of the French system is its consistent adherence to the principle that organisations cannot hide behind individual perpetrators [6]. Where conduct is carried out by a person exercising a representative function for the organisation , liability may attach to the organisation without requiring proof that the smooth internal structure participated or agreed . In different words, the prosecution need not demonstrate that a political party collectively “intended” to commit corruption; it is comfortable to show that the offence was committed within the scope of figural authority or that it generated a benefit for the party.

Beyond the criminal provisions themselves, France reinforces political-party accountability through a highly structured financial supervisory body, the Commission nationale des comptes de campagne et des financements politiques (CNCCFP). This institution is responsible for scrutinising campaign accounts and the financial operations of political parties in a comprehensive manner. Where violations such as illegal donations, irregular accounting or excessive campaign expenditure are detected, the CNCCFP is authorised to issue administrative sanctions, reject campaign reports and, where necessary, refer cases for criminal prosecution

As noted by Shiman (2025) the existence of the CNCCFP contributes importantly to the transparency of the French political system , peculiarly when compared with jurisdictions that rely only on internal party oversight [7].

A key feature of the French model is the combination of administrative and wrong mechanisms. The CNCCFP acts as an initial filter that identifies administrative breaches , but these may promptly escalate into wrong cases where corruption or financial misconduct is involved. This dual-track enforcement produces a system that is both stringent and well-organised. Compared with Indonesia—where oversight of political finance is dispersed across various institutions and is often sporadic—the French system appears far better equipped to detect and respond to corruption risks within political parties.

France also provides a diverse range of sanctions for political parties found guilty of criminal offences. These may include substantial fines, the confiscation of illicit gains, restrictions on campaign activities and even the suspension or termination of access to public funding. The latter is particularly effective because many French political parties rely heavily on State financing. Consequently, the government possesses a powerful tool for controlling financial misconduct, which acts as a deterrent against future violations.

Notably, high-profile corruption cases involving major political parties in France illustrate that organisational prosecution is neither taboo nor considered a threat to democratic stability. Several obvious cases without describing each in detail show that even politically influential parties can be sanctioned when proven to have accepted illegal funds or engaged in systemic political corruption. This demonstrates that French wrong law is practical consistently, irregardless of whether the subject is an individual or a powerful political entity.

One of the most striking differences compared with Indonesia lies in procedural certainty. In France, the prosecution of corporations does not require abundant debate about whether political parties qualify as corporate entities; their judicial status as juridic persons is sufficient. In Indonesia, however, prescriptive debates repeatedly hinder enforcement, and scepticism persists over whether prosecuting political parties may destabilise democracy . French experience indicates the opposite: democracy functions further efficaciously when political parties do not enjoy zones of impunity. Furthermore , enforcement in France is further amenable because the judiciary is supported by structurally collected evidence especially from CNCCFP reports , which are detailed and systematic . These reports often serve as the simple evidentiary basis for prosecutors. By contrast , Indonesia’s party audit processes often remain superficial , underscoring how essential robust monitoring institutions are to the successful prosecution of political parties.

Wickberg and Phélippeau (2025) observes that one of the reasons France succeeds in enforcing political-party accountability is its commitment to the principle that “an organisation must be responsible for the benefits it enjoys.” This principle provides a strong foundation for judges and prosecutors to determine whether a party should be held criminally liable [6]. Thus, the clarity of France’s legal framework, the strength of its supervisory institutions and the political will of its enforcement agencies collectively place France far ahead in prosecuting political parties as corporate offenders. When viewed as a whole, the French system not only provides prescriptive rules but also cultivates an institutional environment and political culture that support their application . This is often lacking in Indonesia: the norms exist, but implementation remains weak . In France, the norm and its enforcement operate hand in hand . This contrast offers an pivotal lesson for Indonesia’s criminal law reform , particularly in the complex area of corruption involving political parties.

D. Comparative Analysis between Indonesia and France

The comparison between Indonesia and France in relation to the criminal liability of political parties reveals a substantial structural gap, covering legal norms, supervisory institutions and law-enforcement practice. Although both jurisdictions formally recognise corporations as subjects of criminal law, the implementation and operationalisation of this principle move in markedly different directions. Understanding this divergence requires examining how each country constructs its legal framework and how its socio-political context influences the effectiveness of applying criminal norms to political parties. In this sense, criminal liability for political parties does not develop in a vacuum; it is always mediated by institutional design, political incentives and the degree to which democratic systems tolerate or resist organisational impunity.

In the Indonesian context, the recognition of corporations as subjects of criminal liability through the National Criminal Code and Supreme Court Regulation No. 13 of 2016 provides a reasonably strong normative basis. However, these norms have not yet fully extended to political parties because there is no explicit provision affirming political parties as corporate offenders. As highlighted in Profianto (2025) research, Indonesian legal construction remains predominantly individualistic, so that even when an offence is committed for the benefit of a party, the burden of responsibility is placed on specific individuals [4]. At the same time, by Yu Zeng (2022) notes that the Indonesian judicial system remains cautious if not hesitant in prosecuting political entities due to concerns over political implications and democratic stability. Modern existential research further confirms this pattern [5]. Bolkvadze (2025) demonstrate that law enforcement bodies repeatedly fail to establish the organisational link needed to treat political parties as institutional beneficiaries [13], esulting in persistent over reliance on individual liability flat when corporate benefit is evident.

Compared with France, the contrast becomes especially striking. Through Article 121-2 of the Code pénal, France has integrated political parties into the broader category of legal persons without requiring any special statutory designation. Under this doctrine, any legal person may be held criminally liable provided that an offence is committed by its organs or authorised representatives. As analysed by Wickberg and Phélippeau (2025) French law adopts a far more assertive stance in applying institutional liability, particularly in cases involving political corruption [6]. This reduces doctrinal ambiguity and allows prosecutors to focus on evidentiary sufficiency kinda than engaging in continual debates over whether political parties ought to be recognised as liable entities in the first place . Such clarity stands in sharp worded contrast to Indonesia’s fragmented approach and its continuing reliance on individual culpability.

At the institutional level, France is supported by the CNCCFP, an free supervisory body with abundant authority over political finance . The CNCCFP conducts audits , rejects financial statements, withholds state subsidies and refers cases to wrong prosecution where good violations are detected. Analysis by Shiman (2025prosecution where good violations are detected. Analysis by Shiman (2025) identifies this supervisory body as a fundamental pillar of France’s enforcement success [7]. By contrast , in Indonesia , the functions of political finance oversight are distributed among multiple institutions KPU , Bawaslu , Kesbangpol and the KPK none of which possess the consolidated mandate or specialistic capacity of the CNCCFP. This fragmentation leads to unfocused monitoring, inconsistent enforcement and vulnerability to political bargaining. Further reinforces this institutional diagnosis by showing that Indonesia’s broader governance mechanisms—including auditing, transparency obligations and accountability structures—remain weak and highly uneven, producing enforcement gaps that directly affect the State’s ability to regulate political parties effectively.

In terms of enforcement effectiveness, France tends to be far more stable and decisive . When violations occur, there is broadly no disproportionate political resistance to judicial process, even when better parties are implicated . The French open perceives such prosecutions as a regular part of direct checks and balances kinda than a threat to political stability . In Indonesia, however , the idea of prosecuting a political party is often framed as extreme, carrying the risk of destabilising government coalitions or provoking conflict. Such anxieties often lead investigative bodies to err on the side of extreme caution, resulting in situations where institutional benefit from corruption is widely recognised yet not followed by organisational prosecution. This contributes to a persistent culture of impunity around political financing and party-level decision-making.

Another key difference concerns organisational compliance culture. In France, political parties—though imperfect—operate under stringent transparency rules requiring detailed and publicly accessible reporting, and inaccurate disclosures may trigger sanctions or criminal escalation When discussing party financial reports in Indonesia , the picture is quite formalised. Audits are just always cooked thoroughly , and don't always reflect the veridical state of the party's finances. Simpsons and Evens (2024) According to Simpsons and Evens (2024), the fact that there are no intense penalties for administrative infractions leads to empty reports and not veridical accountability [14]. Analysis by Ibipurwo (2025) showed that the hearty lack of diaphanous audits and penalties for faking financial statements kills the whole purpose of corruption prevention and scares parties off from setting up their own internal systems that would be in line with corporate accountability principles [15].

From a notional perspective, Indonesia’s corporate liability framework appears comprehensive incorporating identification theory , vicarious liability and corporate culture theory. However, in practice these doctrines have not translated into consistent prosecutorial action. France , conversely, need not rely heavily on notional elaboration; its system operates efficaciously because institutional mandates are clear, evidentiary pathways are foreseeable and political actors accept organisational accountability as a direct necessity. In Indonesia, doctrinal debates often become a substitute for enforcement, revealing a important gap between the law as written and the law in action.

Taken as a whole, the comparison indicates that France offers a further orderly and functional accountability model because it relies not only on prescriptive frameworks but also on robust institutions and a political culture aligned with enforcement. Indonesia , by contrast, continues to strengthen the solemn structure of its laws without corresponding improvements in institutional capacity or political will. The key lesson is therefore clear: legal reform in Indonesia cannot stop at statutory revisions. Effective criminal liability for political parties requires institutional redesign, centralised political-finance supervision and a cultural shift that normalises organisational accountability. Without integrating these elements, criminal liability will remain largely theoretical rather than a functional instrument in combating political corruption.

Conclusion

Normatively, this gives credence to the coercive power of government to declare that political parties are included as corporate “criminal subjects” and that they may be penalized for criminal acts just as any other corporation. 1 of 2023. Still, criminal accountability in Indonesia is individual, and to date there appears to be no instance in which a court has imputed the actions of a party official or representative to the organization itself. Law enforcement agencies stop at individual actors because prosecutors focus on personal liability to secure convictions, even when the party as an institution clearly benefited from the offense. There is a lack of specific implementing regulations and little oversight of political financing. As such, national law is, for the moment, inadequate to reach political parties as corporate offenders, even though it nominally recognises them as such.

In terms of the question of political responsibility, France presents a completely different landscape to Indonesia. Article 121-2 of the Code pénal makes political parties on an equal footing with other legal entities, so any acts done by their people or appointed representatives are slapped on the party itself, and this is bolstered by the CNCCFP, an impartial and efficient watchdog that makes sure that accountability isn’t dependent on political bravery but rather on well-known, fair laws that run like clockwork. This profound difference between the two countries, illustrates that Indonesia isn’t just in need of a set of clearer regulations, but also needs to beef up its institutional structure, so that political parties are viewed not just as democratic players, but as entities that can be held to account if they profit, turn a blind eye to, or even enable corrupt acts. Coming to grips with this issue is crucial if Indonesia wants to move towards a system where the principles of accountability really drive political action..