TUBAN, INDONESIA — In a case that has shocked Indonesia and revived scrutiny of the nation’s sprawling network of Islamic boarding schools, three young students were confined in a room and deliberately set alight by a senior pupil at a pesantren in Central Lombok last November. One of the victims, a 13-year-old identified only as SAH, suffered burns to 80 per cent of his body and required months of intensive care, during which he developed severe psychological trauma; another victim died in March after four months in hospital. The incident only came to public attention this month, more than half a year later, after the surviving families, forced to sell cattle to cover medical costs without any aid from the school, reported it to authorities.

The motive, according to local police, appears to have been retaliation: the perpetrator, an older student known as R, allegedly held a grudge after being reported to a teacher for a prior infraction. He and accomplices herded the younger boys into a room, doused them with petrol, and set them ablaze. The attack, and the subsequent silence surrounding it, lays bare a pattern of violent initiation rites and unchecked seniority systems that have bedevilled Indonesian boarding schools for years, despite repeated pledges from the religious affairs ministry to strengthen oversight.

Hundreds of kilometres across the Indian Ocean, a parallel tragedy unfolded this week in western Sri Lanka, where a fire swept through an unregistered nursing home in Anguruwatota, killing 13 residents and injuring eight. A staff member told media that at least one of the deceased had been chained to a bed — a practice the home defended as necessary to prevent patients from wandering off. Another resident was unshackled only during the rescue. Police are investigating, but the revelation has ignited outrage and highlighted the near-total absence of regulation for such privately run care facilities in the country.

Viewed from regional capitals, the two disasters, though separated by geography and context, draw a common outline of institutional neglect. In both, vulnerable people — children and the elderly or mentally ill — were placed in the care of unaccountable institutions, where abuse was either tolerated or inflicted by those meant to protect them. In Lombok, the lag between the crime and its reporting suggests a culture of internal ‘settlement’ that prioritises the reputation of the institution over the welfare of its charges. In Sri Lanka, the nursing home operated without a licence, and the practice of physical restraint, outlawed in many jurisdictions, was reportedly routine. Analysts in Geneva note that such cases fit a wider pattern in South and Southeast Asia, where the state often devolves responsibility to community or religious bodies without accompanying enforcement of minimum standards.

As investigations proceed in both countries, rights advocates are urging a fundamental overhaul of oversight mechanisms. In Indonesia, the child protection commission has called for a national audit of pesantren safety protocols, while in Colombo, parliamentarians are demanding a review of all eldercare facilities after the fire. The tragedies also test the ability of authorities to pursue justice in environments where powerful local figures can suppress information. With both incidents still unfolding, the extent to which they might galvanise meaningful reform remains an open question, but they have already pierced the veil of impunity that long shielded such institutions from external scrutiny.