The Chain of Command: Should the Indonesian National Police Move to a Ministry?

The institutional placement of the Indonesian National Police (Polri) remains one of the most contentious debates in the nation’s post-Reformasi landscape. Historically extricated from the military to ensure a civilian-led approach to internal security, the question now arises whether its direct reporting line to the President provides an essential safeguard for national stability or an unintended obstacle to democratic accountability. As calls for a transition toward a ministerial model grow louder, one must weigh the promise of enhanced parliamentary oversight against the precarious risk of political interference. Let us explore the delicate balance between operational independence and civilian control, evaluating whether the current structure serves the state’s long-term democratic health or necessitates a fundamental legislative shift.

The genesis of Polri’s current institutional identity lies in the tumultuous transition of 1999, a period defined by an urgent national desire to dismantle the "Dual Function" (Dwifungsi) of the armed forces. By severing the police from the military command, the Reformasi movement sought to transform a tool of state repression into a professional service dedicated to civil law enforcement. This "divorce" was not merely administrative; it was a profound philosophical shift aimed at "civilianising" internal security. The decision to place Polri directly under the President was a deliberate safeguard intended to prevent the institution from falling back into the hands of a single ministry that could be exploited for partisan political gain during the fragile infancy of Indonesian democracy.

The central tension in moving Polri under a ministry lies in the precarious balance between administrative oversight and the sanctity of active investigations. Proponents of the ministerial model argue that it provides a structured "civilian buffer," ensuring the police remain accountable to a representative government. However, the darker side of this transition is the heightened risk of political interference. If the Chief of Police reports to a political appointee—who is often a high-ranking member of a political party—the line between law enforcement and political strategy begins to blur. The danger is that the police could be utilised as a tactical asset to investigate political rivals or protect allies, thereby compromising the "operational independence" that is vital for a neutral justice system.

The most frequent criticism directed at the "Direct-to-President" model is the perceived "crisis of accountability" that arises when a massive security apparatus reports to a single, overstretched executive. Critics argue that because the President is preoccupied with national policy and international diplomacy, the police effectively operate in a supervisory vacuum. This lack of granular oversight allows for an insular institutional culture where internal disciplinary mechanisms, such as the Internal Affairs Division (Propam), are often viewed as self-protecting rather than self-correcting. Without a dedicated minister to answer for specific failures in the legislature, the public is often left with a sense of "impunity," as there is no clear, politically accountable figure who can be held responsible for the daily conduct and systemic ethics of the force.

Public perception regarding the institutional placement of Polri is deeply nuanced, shaped by a historical mistrust of state authority and an urgent desire for professional law enforcement. Civil society organisations (CSOs) and human rights NGOs often find themselves in a complex paradox; while they frequently criticise the police for excessive force and lack of transparency under the current model, they are equally wary of a ministerial transition. The prevailing fear among activists is that a "Minister of Internal Security" could become a partisan gatekeeper, effectively shielding the police from public scrutiny to serve the governing coalition's interests. Consequently, the consensus within civil society tends to favour the strengthening of external checks—such as empowering the Ombudsman and Kompolnas—rather than a mere change in the chain of command, as they believe true reform must be rooted in transparency rather than administrative relocation.

Placing the Indonesian National Police (Polri) under the jurisdiction of a ministry is a subject of intense debate, involving complex considerations of democratic oversight and operational neutrality.

The primary argument in favour of such a transition centres on the enhancement of democratic accountability and the standardisation of the chain of command. By placing the police under a civilian-led ministry, such as a Ministry of Home Affairs or a dedicated Ministry of Internal Security, the institution would be subject to more rigorous parliamentary scrutiny and political responsibility. This alignment mirrors the structure of many developed democracies, where it is believed that a direct reporting line to a minister prevents the police from becoming an isolated "state within a state." Furthermore, it could allow the President to focus on high-level statecraft rather than the granular management of internal security affairs.

Conversely, there are significant concerns regarding the potential for political interference and the erosion of impartiality. Critics argue that if the police were governed by a ministry, the institution might be utilised as a political instrument by the governing party to suppress opposition or influence electoral outcomes. The current structure, where the Chief of Police reports directly to the President, is seen by some as a safeguard that preserves the singular authority of the head of state over the instruments of force. There is also the logistical risk that an additional layer of bureaucracy could hamper the speed of decision-making during national emergencies or large-scale security crises.

In the United Kingdom, the relationship between the government and the police is defined by a "tripartite" system of governance. This structure involves the Home Secretary (representing the national government), Police and Crime Commissioners (locally elected officials), and the Chief Constables (operational leaders). Unlike the proposed Indonesian model, which might centralise power under a single ministry, the British system intentionally fragments authority to prevent any single politician from gaining total control over the police.

The Home Secretary is responsible for national strategy, such as counter-terrorism and setting the "Strategic Policing Requirement," yet they possess no legal power to direct a police officer to make an arrest or investigate a specific individual. This concept, known as operational independence, is a cornerstone of British policing. In contrast, the debate in Indonesia often focuses on whether moving Polri under a ministry would inadvertently grant a minister the power to influence active investigations—a fear that stems from Indonesia’s unique history of authoritarianism and the "Dual Function" (Dwifungsi) era.

Furthermore, the UK utilises the Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC), which operates outside the Home Office to investigate serious complaints, ensuring that oversight is not just "political" but also "procedural." For Indonesia, adopting a ministerial model without such robust, independent "buffer" institutions could risk replacing one form of direct executive control (under the President) with a more partisan form of control (under a political appointee).

Beyond the British model, the governance of police forces worldwide generally falls into three distinct categories: Centralised (Ministerial), Decentralised (Fragmented), and Semi-Centralised (Dual). Each system reflects a nation’s specific history, constitutional priorities, and balance between state power and civil liberties.

In Centralised systems, such as those in France and Turkey, the national police typically report to the Ministry of the Interior. This model prioritises national uniformity and the swift deployment of resources across the country. In France, the Police Nationale is a civilian force under the Interior Minister, while the Gendarmerie Nationale possesses military status but operates under the same ministry for internal security tasks. This ensures a singular strategic vision but often faces criticism regarding the high potential for political leverage by the central government.

Conversely, the United States and Germany employ Decentralised models. In the US, policing is highly fragmented, with thousands of independent local, county, and state agencies that are not controlled by a single federal ministry. While the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) falls under the Department of Justice, it lacks jurisdiction over local matters like municipal traffic or city-level crime. Germany’s model is similarly federalised; the primary responsibility for policing lies with the individual states (Länder), each with its own Interior Ministry, which prevents the concentration of "police power" in the hands of the federal Chancellor.

Japan offers a unique Semi-Centralised compromise. While there is a National Police Agency (NPA) to coordinate and set standards, the actual "boots on the ground" belong to Prefectural Police forces. To ensure neutrality, the NPA is supervised by the National Public Safety Commission, a body composed of civilians designed to act as a buffer between the police and direct political pressure from the Cabinet. This "Commission Model" is often cited as a possible middle ground for Indonesia, as it provides ministerial oversight without granting a single politician direct operational command.

The transition of the Indonesian National Police (Polri) from being part of a ministry to its current position directly under the President is one of the most significant legacies of the Reformasi era following the fall of the New Order.

During the New Order regime, Polri was integrated into the Armed Forces of the Republic of Indonesia (ABRI) alongside the Army, Navy, and Air Force. This integration meant that the police operated under a military culture and command structure, where internal security was often conflated with national defence. Following the resignation of President Suharto in 1998, there was a profound democratic demand to "demilitarise" the police. The primary objective was to transform Polri into a professional civilian force focused on law enforcement and human rights, rather than state stability.

The separation began in 1999 under President B.J. Habibie and was formally solidified through People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR) Decrees No. VI and VII of 2000. These decrees explicitly separated the TNI (military) and Polri, placing the police directly under the President to ensure they could act as an independent state instrument. This "direct reporting" model was intentionally chosen as a safeguard; the reformers feared that placing the police under the Ministry of Home Affairs or a similar body might lead to the police being "re-politicised" by ministers or regional governors, as had occurred in the past.

The subsequent Law No. 2 of 2002 regarding the Indonesian National Police legally anchored this independence. The logic was that by reporting directly to the Head of State, the police would serve the constitution and the public interest rather than the partisan interests of a specific cabinet member. This historical trauma of political manipulation remains the strongest argument used by those who oppose returning Polri to a ministerial fold today.

Maintaining the status quo, where the Indonesian National Police (Polri) reports directly to the President, offers a unique set of advantages and challenges that are deeply rooted in Indonesia’s specific constitutional framework.

The primary advantage of the current structure is the preservation of a singular, direct line of authority from the Head of State, which ensures that the police can act decisively in matters of national importance. By bypassing the bureaucratic layers of a ministry, the President can exercise immediate leadership during major security crises, domestic unrest, or national disasters. Furthermore, this positioning is viewed by many as a vital protection against "partisan capture"; because the President is the sole mandate-holder of the people, the police are theoretically shielded from the narrower political agendas of various cabinet ministers or competing political parties. This direct accountability to the President is intended to foster a sense of national unity and institutional pride, positioning the police as a "state instrument" rather than a "government tool."

However, there are notable disadvantages to this direct reporting line, particularly regarding the President’s personal workload and the risk of executive overreach. Critics argue that the President, burdened with the vast responsibilities of governing a nation, cannot provide the detailed day-to-day oversight and administrative scrutiny that a dedicated minister could offer. This can lead to a lack of rigorous "check and balance" mechanisms, potentially allowing the police to operate with too much autonomy and insufficient civilian accountability. Moreover, placing such a powerful instrument of force directly under the executive branch can create a "super-body" that might be susceptible to being used by a President to consolidate personal power, thereby bypassing the traditional parliamentary oversight that typically accompanies ministerial departments.

In the absence of a dedicated ministry, the National Police Commission (Kompolnas) serves as the essential civilian "bridge" between the President and the police force.

Kompolnas functions as an external supervisory body designed to assist the President in determining police policy and providing oversight on institutional integrity. Its primary mandate is to ensure that the police operate professionally and remain impartial. One of its most critical functions is the recommendation of candidates for the post of Chief of Police (Kapolri), which provides a layer of vetting before the President makes a final nomination to Parliament. Furthermore, Kompolnas acts as a grievance mechanism where the public can submit complaints regarding police misconduct. By involving both government officials (such as the Coordinating Minister for Political, Legal, and Security Affairs) and independent experts or community figures, the commission aims to provide a balanced perspective that mitigates the risk of the police becoming an insular organisation.

However, the efficacy of Kompolnas is frequently scrutinised due to its limited enforcement powers. Unlike the British Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC), which has the authority to direct investigations and recommend disciplinary action, Kompolnas is primarily a consultative body. It can monitor and provide recommendations, but it lacks the "teeth" to impose sanctions or override internal police decisions. Critics argue that as long as the commission remains advisory, the "Direct-to-President" model will always struggle with an oversight deficit, as the police ultimately retain significant control over their own internal disciplinary processes.

In the current Indonesian governance framework, the Coordinating Ministry for Political, Legal, and Security Affairs (Kemenko Polhukam) acts as the functional "supervisor" that compensates for the President’s inability to manage the police daily.

Kemenko Polhukam serves as the primary instrument for synchronising and coordinating the policies of various security institutions, including the Police, the Military (TNI), and the Intelligence Agency (BIN). While the Ministry does not possess a direct "command" relationship over the Chief of Police—as Polri remains constitutionally under the President—it exerts significant influence through policy harmonisation. The Coordinating Minister often chairs meetings to resolve jurisdictional overlaps and ensures that Polri's operational activities align with the broader national security strategy set by the Cabinet. In practice, the Minister acts as a "buffer" or a spokesperson, addressing the public and Parliament on security matters, which effectively shields the President from the immediate political fallout of police-related controversies.

From a critical perspective, however, this arrangement can create a "grey area" of accountability. Because the Coordinating Minister lacks the formal legal power to issue direct orders or manage the police budget (which Polri manages independently), their role is often limited to persuasion and diplomatic coordination. This can lead to friction if the Chief of Police and the Coordinating Minister have differing strategic priorities. Proponents of the "Ministerial Model" argue that replacing this "coordination" role with a "direct reporting" line to a single Ministry would eliminate this ambiguity, whereas defenders of the current system believe the Kemenko model provides a necessary level of high-level oversight without compromising the police's independence.

The debates within the People’s Representative Council (DPR) regarding the institutional placement of Polri are often divided along the lines of enhancing legislative oversight versus maintaining the current executive efficiency.

Within the halls of the DPR, those who advocate for placing Polri under a ministry often argue that the current "Direct-to-President" model limits the legislature’s ability to hold the police to account. Because the President is the Head of State, summoning him to a commission hearing to answer for specific operational failures is procedurally difficult and politically sensitive. Proponents of the ministerial shift suggest that if a Minister were directly responsible, Parliament could exercise more frequent and rigorous scrutiny over the police budget and performance. This group believes that a minister would serve as a more accessible and accountable target for parliamentary questions, thereby strengthening the "check and balance" function of the DPR over the instruments of state force.

On the other hand, many factions within the DPR remain wary of such a change, fearing that it would disrupt the stability of the national security architecture. These lawmakers argue that the police must remain "above" the fray of cabinet politics to ensure they are not used as a tool for partisan advantage by whichever political party happens to control the ministry. They contend that the current system already provides the DPR with sufficient power through the "Fit and Proper Test" for the Chief of Police and the annual budget approval process. For these members, the risk of "ministerial politicisation" outweighs the perceived benefits of increased administrative oversight, leading to a general legislative preference for maintaining the status quo while perhaps strengthening the existing powers of Kompolnas.

Determining the "ideal" position for Polri is less about finding a perfect location and more about choosing which democratic risks a nation is willing to accept. There is no global consensus on this, as the ideal structure usually depends on a country's level of political maturity and the strength of its legal institutions.

From a pure public administration perspective, the ideal model is often considered to be one where the police are under a civilian ministry but protected by "operational independence" laws. This setup, common in Western Europe, allows for professional administrative oversight (budget, equipment, and career paths) by a minister, while legally prohibiting that minister from interfering in specific criminal investigations or arrests. This creates a healthy distance between the head of state and the instruments of force, reducing the risk of a "police state." However, for this to be ideal, the country must possess a highly independent judiciary and a neutral civil service to act as a firewall against the minister’s own political ambitions.

In the Indonesian context, many experts argue that the current "Direct-to-President" model remains the "practical ideal" for the time being. Given the nation's history of political volatility, placing the police under a ministry could lead to "fragmented loyalty," where the police might be pressured to serve a political party rather than the state. Therefore, the ideal for Indonesia might not be a change in location, but rather a strengthening of the middle ground. This would involve empowering Kompolnas to have investigative "teeth" and ensuring the DPR has more transparent access to police accountability reports. In this view, the "who" (President or Minister) matters less than the "how" (the strength of the independent checks and balances).

Regarding the Ministerial Ideal, this model is best suited for stable democracies that possess a neutral civil service and a robust judicial system. Its primary benefit lies in providing clear administrative accountability; because a minister is responsible for the police, the public and Parliament have a specific individual who can be questioned on matters of budgeting, equipment, and policy. However, for this to function correctly, the model requires strong "Operational Independence" laws to ensure that while the minister manages the bureaucracy, they cannot interfere with active criminal investigations.

In contrast, the Presidential Ideal, which mirrors Indonesia’s current structure, is often preferred by nations in transition or those requiring high levels of state unity. The main advantage of this setup is the direct protection of national stability, as the police serve as a singular instrument of the state under the Head of State, rather than being divided by ministerial politics. For this model to remain democratic and effective, it necessitates the existence of strong independent oversight bodies, such as a powerful police commission, to prevent the concentration of too much power within the executive branch.

Improving the Indonesian National Police involves addressing deep-seated cultural, structural, and procedural issues that go beyond its mere position in the government hierarchy.

The most pressing area for reform is the enhancement of internal integrity and the eradication of corruption, which requires a more robust and transparent disciplinary system. Currently, the Internal Affairs Division (Propam) often faces public scepticism regarding its impartiality; therefore, establishing an independent oversight body with the legal authority to conduct binding investigations—similar to the British IOPC—is essential. Secondly, there is a significant need to transition from a militaristic culture to a genuine community policing model. This involves reforming the recruitment and training processes to prioritise human rights, de-escalation techniques, and public service over the traditional "command and control" mentality inherited from the New Order.

Furthermore, the politicisation of high-ranking appointments must be addressed to ensure that promotions are based on meritocracy rather than political loyalty or proximity to power. This could be achieved by giving a body like Kompolnas more substantial "vetting" powers that the President or Parliament cannot easily ignore. Finally, the modernisation of data management and digital forensics is crucial to improving the speed and quality of law enforcement. By digitising public reports and investigation progress, Polri could provide higher levels of transparency to citizens, allowing them to track their cases online and reducing the opportunities for "backdoor" negotiations or administrative delays.

Ultimately, the debate over whether the Indonesian National Police should remain under the President or transition to a ministry is a reflection of the nation's ongoing democratic maturity. While a ministerial model offers the allure of streamlined administrative oversight and greater parliamentary transparency, the ghost of political interference remains a formidable deterrent. The "ideal" solution may not lie in a simple change of hierarchy, but in the rigorous strengthening of independent "buffer" institutions that can hold the police accountable regardless of who signs their paycheques. Whether Polri remains a direct instrument of the Head of State or becomes a ministerial department, the ultimate priority must be the transition from a force that guards the state to a service that protects the citizen.

[Bahasa]

The Irony of Justice: When a Victim Becomes a Suspect

In Indonesia, the story of Hogi Minaya (43) has sent shockwaves through the Indonesian public, sparking a fierce debate on where self-defence ends and vigilantism begins. What started as a heroic act to protect his wife from a violent mugging has spiralled into a legal nightmare that defies common sense.

The case that happened in Sleman, Yogyakarta, Indonesia, has become a subject of intense public debate as it touches upon the dilemma between self-defence and law enforcement. Hogi was named a suspect after his actions in pursuing his wife's muggers resulted in the deaths of both perpetrators.

The mugging and subsequent pursuit involving Hogi Minaya took place on Saturday, 26 April 2025, at approximately 05:30 WIB (with some sources citing 06:27 WIB). The incident occurred on Jalan Solo, specifically in the vicinity of the Janti Flyover through to the front of Transmart Maguwoharjo, Sleman, Yogyakarta."

According to the available information, the details regarding the timeline of the incident and its subsequent public exposure are divided into two distinct phases. The initial mugging and the pursuit involving Hogi Minaya took place on Saturday, 26 April 2025, occurring between 05:30 and 06:27 WIB along Jalan Solo, specifically spanning the area from the Janti Flyover to the front of Transmart Maguwoharjo in Sleman, Yogyakarta. While amateur footage of the aftermath went viral immediately after the event via social media accounts such as @merapi_uncover, the narrative at that time focused primarily on the deaths of two muggers who hit a wall while being chased. However, the case only surged into the national spotlight and sparked widespread controversy around 22 to 23 January 2026, following news that Hogi had been officially named a suspect and his case file transferred to the Prosecution Service. Public outrage intensified upon the discovery that Hogi was required to wear a GPS tracking anklet as a condition of his house arrest, despite his status as a victim of the original crime. It is worth noting that while the police had actually designated him a suspect as early as June or July 2025, the matter remained largely out of the public eye until the commencement of the prosecution process in early 2026.

It all began on a Saturday morning in April 2025. Hogi’s wife, Arista, was riding her motorbike in Sleman, Yogyakarta, when two men on a motorcycle slashed her bag straps with a cutter and sped off. Hogi, who was driving nearby, witnessed the attack and immediately pursued the thieves. In a high-stakes chase, Hogi attempted to block their path. The collision resulted in the thieves crashing into a wall, a crash that proved fatal for both.

To the public’s disbelief, the police did not treat Hogi as a hero. Instead, they named him a suspect under traffic negligence laws. By January 2026, the case escalated as Hogi was handed over to the prosecution, forced to wear a GPS tracking anklet like a common criminal.

In the most heartbreaking turn of events, the latest development reveals a profound moral paradox. Despite being the original victim of the crime, Hogi Minaya—driven by a desire for peace and perhaps the weight of the legal system—reportedly offered an apology to the families of the deceased muggers. This gesture, intended to pave the way for "Restorative Justice", has left many Indonesians outraged. Why should a man who lost his property and saw his wife’s life threatened be the one to bow his head?

The public reaction to the news that Hogi’s wife felt compelled to apologise to the families of the muggers has been one of overwhelming indignation and disbelief, with many viewing the gesture as a humiliating reversal of roles between the victim and the victimiser. On social media and in public discourse, the prevailing sentiment is that such an apology represents a "moral tragedy" where the innocent are forced to bow before the kin of criminals simply to satisfy the technical requirements of a legal settlement. Many citizens have expressed their heartbreak, arguing that this act of contrition is a sign of a broken justice system that effectively coerces victims into submission rather than vindicating their right to self-protection. Ultimately, the public sees this apology not as a genuine act of reconciliation, but as a desperate tactical move forced upon a traumatised family to avoid a gruelling prison sentence, further fueling the perception that the law in this case has lost its moral compass.

While the police maintain that their decision to charge Hogi Minaya is a necessary application of "positive law," this rigid stance has been met with fierce public condemnation for its apparent lack of common sense and moral grounding. By hiding behind the technicalities of the Traffic and Road Transport Law, the authorities are effectively punishing a man for a split-second decision made under extreme duress to protect his family. The official logic—that Hogi endangered other road users by swerving into the thieves—conveniently ignores the fact that the primary danger was created by the armed muggers themselves, not the victim attempting to stop them. To treat a man who was fighting back against a violent crime as a common traffic offender is not only a failure of the legal system but a dangerous precedent that suggests the law values the procedural rights of criminals over the safety and justice of the victims.

Within the framework of criminal law, Article 49 of the Indonesian Criminal Code provides for the right to self-defence, yet the police have categorised Hogi’s actions as "Noodweer Exces," or an excessive use of force that exceeds legal boundaries. This stance is primarily based on the principle of proportionality, with the authorities arguing that the act of pursuing the thieves until it resulted in their deaths was vastly disproportionate to the initial threat of a stolen bag. Furthermore, the investigators applied the principle of subsidiarity, suggesting that Hogi had alternative options available to him, such as recording the registration plate or shouting for assistance, rather than engaging in a high-risk pursuit. Because Hogi chose to initiate "physical contact" with his vehicle, the police contend that he overstepped his rights by assuming a law enforcement role that ultimately led to an avoidable loss of life.

The legal principle of "Vim Vi Repellere Licet" serves as a universal maxim asserting that it is permissible to repel force with force, a concept that many believe should exonerate Hogi Minaya. From a public perspective, the perpetrators deliberately placed themselves in harm's way the moment they chose to commit a violent robbery against an innocent person. Consequently, the deaths of these criminals are viewed not as a failure of the victim’s conduct, but as an inherent occupational hazard they accepted by embarking on a criminal path, meaning the burden of the outcome should not rest upon a victim merely attempting to defend his rights.

From a sociological perspective, the prospect of punishing Hogi Minaya raises grave concerns regarding the balance between a deterrent effect on crime and the unjust criminalisation of victims, as such a conviction would likely send a damaging message to the wider community. There is a profound fear that if Hogi is imprisoned, ordinary citizens will become too intimidated to resist criminal acts or intervene to help others, haunted by the prospect of being treated as suspects themselves. Furthermore, this legal precedent could inadvertently embolden criminals, who might feel far more secure in their illicit activities knowing that their victims would hesitate to give chase or defend themselves in order to avoid a gruelling legal ordeal.

The tension between the Deterrent Effect and the Criminalisation of Victims represents a critical crossroads for the Indonesian justice system, as the outcome of Hogi Minaya's case will dictate the future of public safety and civic duty. When the law prioritises procedural perfection over the natural right to self-defence, it inadvertently creates a "chilling effect" where law-abiding citizens choose passivity over intervention out of fear that the state will treat them more harshly than the actual criminals. This imbalance suggests that the legal system is becoming a tool of intimidation for victims rather than a shield against predators, effectively punishing those who refuse to be helpless in the face of violence.

The societal impact of such a precedent in Indonesia could be devastating, leading to a breakdown in social solidarity and the erosion of the "Gotong Royong" spirit in maintaining communal security. If people are taught that defending themselves or their families results in a GPS tracker and a potential prison sentence, the streets become significantly safer for criminals, who operate with the confidence that their targets are legally restrained from fighting back. Ultimately, this creates a vacuum of authority where the police cannot be everywhere at once, yet the citizens who are actually on the scene are too terrified of the prosecutor to act, resulting in an environment where crime thrives under the unintended protection of the law.

The case has ignited a fierce public debate surrounding Article 49 of the Indonesian Criminal Code, which governs the concept of forced self-defence or "noodweer". Many observers argue that it is fundamentally unjust for an individual to face the threat of imprisonment for protecting their family from a violent crime, whereas the police maintain the legal stance that any fatality resulting from a road traffic accident must be held accountable before the law.

In light of the mounting tension surrounding the Hogi Minaya case, legal experts have begun to scrutinise the profound clash between the procedural justice championed by the Sleman Police and the substantive justice demanded by the public. From a procedural standpoint, legal analysts note that the police feel compelled to follow the letter of the law, arguing that because a fatal collision occurred on a public road, a formal investigation and suspect designation are "mandatory" steps to ensure every death is accounted for within the judicial system. However, proponents of substantive justice argue that this "textbook" application of the law ignores the moral reality of the situation, asserting that true justice should prioritise the victim's right to defend his family over the procedural rights of deceased criminals. Experts warn that if the court fails to bridge this gap by recognising the extreme duress Hogi faced, it risks delivering a verdict that is legally "correct" but morally bankrupt, further alienating a public that increasingly views the legal system as a barrier to personal safety.

The impact of this case on the fabric of Indonesian society manifests as an immediate surge in public cynicism and a profound sense of grievance, which threatens to severely undermine trust in the integrity of the national legal system. In the long term, such a precedent risks creating a dangerous culture of passivity where citizens are too intimidated by the prospect of prosecution to intervene during crimes, thereby emboldening criminals and compromising collective security. To address this crisis, policymakers must urgently refine the legal criteria for self-defence and expand the use of "Restorative Justice" to ensure that victims are not re-victimised by the state. It is essential for the authorities to adopt a more nuanced, contextual approach that prioritises the fundamental safety of the public over the rigid application of administrative traffic laws.

[Bahasa]