I.League's Confession: When Indonesian Football Admits It Has No Law to Punish

In football, some defeats are defined by goals conceded, and some are defined by silence. On the evening of Saturday, October 17, 2026, at Banten International Stadium, Persita defeated Persija 3-2 in Week 5 of the 2026/2027 Super League. But the scoreline was merely a pretext for another story to step into the light. Four days later, at an official press conference, I.League President Director Ferry Paulus stood before the cameras and admitted something no one wanted to hear: Indonesia's top flight has no regulation to deduct points from clubs whose supporters riot. That is the confession of a system, not of an individual.

The context of this story is not on the pitch. After the match, supporter groups clashed. The PSSI Disciplinary Committee (Komdis) met and issued its verdict: Persija fined 30 million rupiah, and The Jakmania supporter group banned from away travel for half a season. No point deduction was issued. Yet before that, rumors that Persija would lose points had spread across forums and social media. The public believed that a major club losing a match and allowing its supporters to riot would pay with points. They were wrong. And that very misconception forced Ferry Paulus to appear, not to announce a sanction, but to explain a legal vacuum.

This is the core point anyone following Indonesian football must understand: the problem is not that Komdis punished lightly, but that Komdis has no tool to punish heavily. Ferry Paulus stated clearly that current regulations "do not yet list provisions against the indications or prohibition of riots." The basic legal principle — no law, no punishment — was correctly invoked. A point deduction without legal basis would be appealed and overturned. So Komdis could only apply what exists in the code: a fine and a travel ban. But look at the figure of 30 million rupiah, roughly 1,800 to 2,000 US dollars. For a club with Indonesia's largest supporter base like Persija, that is a symbolic slap, not a deterrent. The truly painful sanction lies in the half-season away-travel ban on The Jakmania — a punishment targeting identity and collective participation, not the club's wallet. But even that sanction raises questions of enforceability: how can the ban be enforced without cooperation from host clubs in ticket allocation?

Having followed matches and press conferences across Southeast Asian football for years, I recognize a familiar pattern: when an incident occurs, the public reacts with emotion, the media reacts with rumor, and the administrators react by... explaining that they cannot do more. Ferry Paulus did exactly what a crisis manager should: he fronted the situation personally, presented the Komdis ruling, acknowledged the gap, and simultaneously offered a forward-looking remedy — I.League is open to pushing a special regulation for heavier sanctions. That is a two-layer communication move: soothe anger with acknowledgment, and redirect anger into support for a new rule. But it must be said clearly: this is a policy signal, not a legal act. There is no draft, no timeline, no consultation mechanism, and no mention of PSSI's role — the body that typically issues disciplinary codes. A special regulation "pushed" by I.League may require PSSI approval. That is an unaddressed dependency.

What is notable is that this problem is not only about Persija. The article mentions a prior incident: The Jakmania attacking the bus carrying Persib Bandung's U-18 team. This is the most important detail in the entire story, because it shows this is not an isolated incident but a pattern of repeated behavior. Persija and Persib are the two poles of Indonesian supporter culture. Any point-deduction rule introduced in the future will likely be triggered first in exactly this fixture pairing. And that creates a governance paradox: the league's biggest brands, the clubs that generate the most revenue and attention, are the ones bearing the highest regulatory risk. A point-deduction rule for supporter conduct is a blunt instrument, punishing clubs for behavior they cannot fully control. Worse, it could create perverse incentives: rival supporter groups could deliberately provoke incidents to damage a competitor's points total. I.League has not addressed this risk.

There is another aspect I consider the blind spot of the entire debate. When Ferry Paulus speaks of "families, women, and children attending matches," he is doing something more subtle than calling for safety. He is repositioning the debate: from "punish the club" to "protect the spectator product." This is an expectation-management strategy designed to build legitimacy for future regulation. But it also points to the league's real commercial risk: if supporter violence deters families from attending, the growth trajectory of the broadcast and matchday product is threatened. Football does not survive on its most passionate stands; it survives on its fullest stands. And a league that wants to grow cannot rely only on fans willing to light flares, but also on fans willing to buy tickets for the whole family.

From the perspective of a sports journalist, I see the value of this article in that it is not a report about a riot. It is a report about a gap. And that gap will continue to be filled with rumors, expectations, and disappointments until a regulation is actually enacted. The question is not whether Persija will be deducted points. The question is: does Indonesian football have the courage to write a new rulebook, or will it continue to let each riot pass with an apology and a token fine? The empty summer stadium is where I hear the heartbeat of the game most clearly. And this time, that heartbeat is in a press conference room, where a president director admits that his rulebook is not strong enough to protect the game itself.

The night at Brisbane Road did not teach me to accept defeat; it taught me to look again with different eyes. Looking again at Indonesian football now, I see a league at a crossroads: either write a new law, or continue living with the cracks. An article standing on the side of the fans cannot save the world, but it is a shield. And sometimes, that shield must be placed even before those who hold the pen to write the laws.