The continued retention of Listyo Sigit as Chief of the Indonesian National Police offers President Prabowo a curious mix of stability and liability, shaping his early administration in ways that are both advantageous and quietly burdensome. On the one hand, keeping Sigit in place allows Prabowo to inherit an already-consolidated command structure rather than starting from scratch, ensuring that the machinery of law enforcement remains predictable at a time when political transitions are notoriously fragile. Sigit’s long-standing relationships within the police force provide Prabowo with a ready-made network of loyalty, operational experience, and institutional memory, which can be invaluable for a president who needs a firm grip on security while projecting an image of national steadiness.Yet, this stability carries its own complications. Sigit is deeply associated with the previous administration’s controversies, and retaining him risks tethering Prabowo to unresolved scandals, latent factionalism, and public distrust that has accumulated over the years. Instead of projecting renewal, Prabowo may appear to be entrenching continuity with the very structures that many citizens hoped would be reformed. Moreover, as long as Sigit remains, political blame becomes difficult to redistribute; any major misstep by the police will be interpreted not as an inherited flaw but as a choice endorsed by Prabowo himself. Thus, the president benefits from short-term stability while assuming long-term reputational risk, navigating a delicate trade-off between continuity and credibility.
From President Prabowo’s vantage point, the greater political advantage ultimately lies in replacing the current Chief of Police rather than retaining him, though the timing and choreography of such a move would determine whether it becomes a masterstroke or a miscalculation. Keeping Listyo Sigit in place grants Prabowo short-term stability, but it also anchors him to legacies, loyalties, and controversies that he did not create yet would inevitably inherit. By replacing the police chief, Prabowo would be able to assert institutional authority, signal a new administrative tone, and distance himself from unresolved issues that belong to the previous era. A fresh appointment allows him to shape a police leadership more aligned with his strategic priorities, loyal directly to him, and unburdened by the narrative baggage of past political storms.However, the greatest benefit is not merely symbolic but practical: a new police chief provides Prabowo with the chance to reset public trust, recalibrate internal factions within the force, and consolidate his power without appearing beholden to his predecessors. Although the move carries risks—particularly the perception of upheaval so early in the presidency—the long-term rewards of establishing his own security architecture far outweigh the temporary stability offered by maintaining the status quo. In essence, replacing the police chief allows Prabowo to begin shaping the state’s coercive institutions in his image, whereas retaining him leaves Prabowo borrowing a machine built for someone else.For the Indonesian public, the continued tenure of Listyo Sigit as Chief of Police presents a paradox that blends reassurance with lingering unease. On one hand, his remaining in office offers a degree of institutional continuity at a time when political transitions often unsettle the country’s major institutions. For ordinary citizens, this continuity can feel like a protective shield: the police machinery does not have to endure internal reshuffling, existing operational routines remain intact, and the risk of disruptive power struggles within the force is temporarily minimised. Stability, even when imperfect, can be comforting to a society that has repeatedly witnessed abrupt and sometimes chaotic shifts within the security sector.Yet this stability is shadowed by frustrations that have accumulated over the years. Many Indonesians perceive the police institution as burdened by unresolved integrity issues, uneven law enforcement, and high-profile controversies that have eroded public confidence. Keeping Sigit at the helm risks signalling a reluctance to pursue institutional renewal or systemic reform. Citizens who hope for a cleaner, more professional police force may see his retention as an affirmation of the status quo—a continuation of the very culture they wish to see dismantled. Furthermore, when familiar scandals return or new ones emerge, the public may increasingly interpret them as proof that the government is unwilling or unable to address deeper structural problems.In essence, the Indonesian people gain short-term calm but lose an opportunity for meaningful transformation. What they receive in stability, they may sacrifice in long-term institutional credibility.From the perspective of the Indonesian people as a whole, the greater long-term benefit lies in replacing the current Chief of Police rather than retaining him, though such a shift must be executed with care to avoid institutional turbulence. Keeping Listyo Sigit in place does provide short-term stability, but it also preserves the very patterns, suspicions, and frustrations that have eroded public confidence in law enforcement over the past several years. Continuity may feel safe, yet it also risks signalling that meaningful reform is unnecessary, unattainable, or simply not a priority. For a public that has repeatedly voiced concern over uneven justice, police misconduct, and recurring scandals, maintaining the existing leadership offers comfort without progress.A principled replacement, by contrast, has the potential to restore a sense of possibility within the institution. A new police chief—if chosen for integrity, professionalism, and reform-mindedness—could open the door to rebuilding public trust, resetting internal culture, and recalibrating the force toward fairness rather than favouritism. Such a change would not solve everything overnight, but it would symbolically and practically affirm that accountability still matters in the republic. For citizens who yearn for a police force that protects without bias and enforces the law without spectacle, a leadership renewal represents the more substantial public good. In short, the Indonesian people gain more by pursuing transformation than by settling for familiar stagnation.There are several indicators that President Prabowo may be weighing a change at the top of the police force, even if he has not publicly committed to doing so. First, despite persistent rumours of a replacement, the Presidential Cabinet Secretary, Teddy Indra Wijaya, has officially denied any concrete plan: he stated that Listyo Sigit continues to give his regular monthly reports to Prabowo. This suggests Prabowo is in no rush to make a hasty decision, but is keeping the option open.Second, the fact that Prabowo publicly praised Sigit during a high-profile agricultural event in June 2025 — giving him an award and crediting him for “catching” the government’s strategic vision — might be more than simple gratitude. It can also be read as a tactical move: signalling cooperation now while preserving the flexibility to reassess later.Third, political voices are increasingly urging a change. Some members of the DPR argue that Sigit’s term has already gone on long enough. At the same time, experts are publicly projecting that Prabowo may indeed replace Sigit in an upcoming reshuffle. This external pressure could serve as cover for Prabowo — giving him a plausible reason to act without making it overtly his own “clean-up” mission.Yet there are also strong counter-signals. According to legal scholars, Sigit could remain Kapolri until around May 2027, given current retirement laws. That timeline gives Prabowo leeway: he does not need to force a change immediately. He can calibrate the move in a way that aligns with other political events, such as cabinet reshuffles or evolving institutional reforms. Moreover, some analysts argue that Prabowo still sees value in having Sigit around for now — Sigit may be “still needed” to support the President’s strategic priorities, especially in areas like security and political stability.In short, yes: it appears Prabowo is indeed looking for the right moment to change the Kapolri. He’s balancing competing demands—reform momentum, political risk, succession timing, and institutional stability—rather than making a rash decision. He seems to prefer playing a long game, keeping Sigit for now while holding the option of replacement open for later.From an ideological viewpoint, the police represent the enforcement arm of the state’s vision of order, justice, and social morality. They embody the prevailing norms and values that a society upholds, ensuring that citizens’ behaviours align with the collective ethical standards.Politically, the police are an instrument of governance and authority. They maintain public order, protect political institutions, and implement laws shaped by the ruling government. Their power is intertwined with the legitimacy of the political system, and their actions often reflect broader political priorities.Economically, the police are a public good funded by taxation, intended to secure property, enforce contracts, and reduce transaction costs by maintaining safety. They also interact with issues of inequality, as policing practices can affect access to resources and economic opportunity for different segments of society.Socially, the police serve as mediators in conflicts, protectors of community safety, and enforcers of societal norms. They play a role in shaping social cohesion, social trust, and the boundaries of acceptable behaviour within a society.Culturally, the police are both a symbol and an actor in the production of collective identity. Their rituals, uniforms, badges, and procedures communicate authority and legitimacy, while their behaviour reflects the cultural narratives, traditions, and expectations of the communities they serve.The police exist primarily to maintain public order, enforce laws, protect citizens, and prevent crime within the domestic sphere. Their core purpose is to serve the community, mediate disputes, and ensure that everyday life proceeds with safety and predictability. Police officers are trained to use discretion, apply laws proportionally, and engage in conflict resolution, making them guardians of societal norms and public trust.In contrast, the military is designed for national defence and external security. Soldiers are trained to engage in combat, defend the state against foreign threats, and execute strategic objectives that often require obedience to hierarchical command structures without the same emphasis on individual discretion. While police operate under civilian control and within the boundaries of civil law, the military may function under wartime rules or national defence protocols, where force is often used differently and with broader authority.The key distinctions lie in scope, function, and methods of authority: police protect the internal peace and rights of citizens, using measured force and accountability; the military protects the nation from external threats, using combat-oriented power as their primary tool. Both serve the state, but their roles, principles, and the contexts in which they wield authority are fundamentally different.Polri often appears militarised because of historical, structural, and practical reasons. Indonesia inherited aspects of a militarised policing model from both the Dutch colonial era and the early post-independence period, during which national security and internal order were heavily linked. The rank structure, uniforms, and hierarchical culture resemble the military to foster discipline, chain-of-command efficiency, and rapid response to public security threats. In addition, during times of political instability, the police were frequently tasked with duties that blurred the line between civilian law enforcement and military operations.However, modern policing theory emphasises that police should be fundamentally civilian in orientation, prioritising community service, proportional use of force, accountability, and protection of civil liberties. While a clear rank system can support an organisation, it should not cultivate a mindset oriented toward warfare. Instead, police culture should encourage dialogue, conflict resolution, community engagement, and ethical discretion.Ideally, Polri would maintain order and discipline through internal rules and training without excessively adopting military-style symbols or combat mentality. Civilian oversight, community policing initiatives, and leadership education in ethics should reinforce that Polri’s ultimate mission is public service, not territorial defence. The military-style appearance should be symbolic of order, not functional for aggression.
When we say that the police must be civilian-oriented, it means that their primary loyalty, purpose, and operational mindset should serve the citizens and civil society rather than military objectives or political power. Civilian orientation emphasises that policing is about protecting human rights, enforcing the law proportionally, resolving conflicts peacefully, and maintaining public trust.Civilian-oriented policing involves several key principles: first, accountability to the community and to elected or civilian oversight bodies; second, the use of force only when necessary and in proportion to the threat; third, prioritising service, prevention, and dialogue over coercion; and fourth, integrating community engagement into operational planning.Being civilian-oriented also entails a cultural and symbolic shift. Police uniforms, rank structures, and internal hierarchies should support order and efficiency without projecting a military or combat-focused mentality. Training should stress ethical decision-making, empathy, and community partnership, rather than battlefield tactics. The essence is that the police are servants of the people, not a paramilitary force or an instrument of state oppression.
[Part 7]Polri’s rank structure is often compared to the military because it uses titles such as Brigadier, Inspector, and General, reflecting hierarchical organisation and chain-of-command discipline. This resemblance is largely historical and intended to instil order, control, and rapid operational response. However, in modern international standards, many highly rated police forces employ rank systems that are more civilian-oriented.For example, the United Kingdom’s police use a rank system including Constable, Sergeant, Inspector, Chief Inspector, Superintendent, and Chief Superintendent. These ranks emphasise supervisory and managerial functions rather than military command. The UK system also clearly distinguishes between operational officers and strategic leadership, fostering a culture of community engagement and accountability.In Germany, the police (Polizei) use ranks such as Polizeimeister, Polizeikommissar, and Polizeirat, which also maintain hierarchy but are embedded in civil service frameworks rather than military culture. German police training stresses rule of law, ethical policing, and civilian oversight. The military-like discipline exists only in terms of organisation and punctuality, not in a combat-oriented mentality.In Scandinavian countries, like Sweden and Norway, ranks are minimalistic, with titles such as Police Officer and Senior Officer. Hierarchy exists for administrative purposes, but operational culture prioritises dialogue, problem-solving, and preventive policing. Officers rarely carry weapons routinely, underscoring civilian orientation and public trust.By contrast, Polri’s military-style ranks and titles can create a perception of a force-first mentality, even if officers are trained in community policing. Reformers argue that a more civilianised rank nomenclature — similar to the UK or Scandinavian models — could symbolically reinforce Polri’s public service mission and de-emphasise combat symbolism.Reforming an institution as complex and deeply rooted as Polri requires more than philosophical reflection or ethical aspiration; it demands practical strategies and systematic implementation. One of the first strategies is institutional audit and evaluation. Reform cannot occur if systemic weaknesses are invisible. Regular, independent audits of Polri divisions — encompassing financial management, operational efficiency, and adherence to procedural standards — can identify vulnerabilities and corruption hotspots. For example, in countries such as the United Kingdom, independent inspectorates regularly assess police performance and publicly report findings, creating accountability. Applying a similar approach in Indonesia could help pinpoint inefficiencies and areas requiring ethical reinforcement.
Another key strategy is ethical training and leadership development. Building on the insights of James Ortmeier and Michael McLean, Polri reform must embed ethics into everyday practice. Training programs should cover moral reasoning, community engagement, procedural fairness, and conflict resolution. Leaders must not only attend these programs but also act as role models. Indonesia has precedent in other public sectors where mandatory ethics training improved public perception and internal compliance; Polri could adapt and institutionalise these programs nationwide.
Community policing and participatory engagement are also essential. The public must perceive the police as partners rather than enforcers. Initiatives like neighbourhood liaison officers, community advisory boards, and transparent reporting of police actions can cultivate trust and legitimacy. For instance, in Japan, Koban (small police stations) maintain close relationships with local residents, allowing police to anticipate issues proactively rather than reactively. Polri could pilot similar community engagement programs, ensuring ethical practices are visible and culturally contextualised.
Transparent accountability mechanisms must be embedded in all levels of the institution. This includes complaint handling, whistleblower protection, and public reporting of disciplinary actions. A practical example is Singapore’s Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau’s partnership with the police to prevent bribery and corruption, demonstrating how external oversight can complement internal reforms. Polri could establish independent monitoring units, working in coordination with civil society, to ensure disciplinary procedures are both transparent and just.
Technology offers another lever for reform. Digital reporting platforms, body-worn cameras, and open-access public dashboards increase transparency and reduce discretionary power that can be abused. Countries like Canada and the United States have shown that widespread adoption of these tools leads to measurable improvements in both accountability and public trust. Implementing a technology-driven strategy in Polri can enhance operational integrity while simultaneously demonstrating commitment to reform.
Finally, institutional culture change is the linchpin of sustainable reform. Rules, technology, and training alone cannot embed ethical leadership if the culture of the organisation rewards expediency over principle. Change management programs must incentivise ethical behaviour, reward transparency, and establish visible consequences for misconduct. Leadership must communicate continuously that ethical policing is a non-negotiable expectation, and officers must see these values exemplified in daily practice.
One of the most compelling case studies that supports a practical strategy for Polri reform is found in Brenda J. Bond‑Fortier’s Organizational Change in an Urban Police Department: Innovating to Reform (2020, Routledge). Bond‑Fortier documents a 25‑year organisational transformation in the Lowell Police Department in Massachusetts, showing how a police agency overcame deep-seated cultural, structural, and political challenges by embracing self-reflection, community partnership, and adaptive leadership. Her research highlights that genuine reform is not a one-off project but a continuous effort: the Lowell force did not simply rewrite policies, but changed mindsets. This case strongly aligns with the argument that Polri must institutionalise change through long-term commitment, not superficial patchwork.
Drawing on that example, Polri reformers might replicate some of the strategies used in Lowell: establishing independent review mechanisms, forming close partnerships with community stakeholders, and implementing regular organisational assessments to measure both performance and legitimacy. Such an adaptive model helps build a police force that is capable of learning, correcting itself, and responding dynamically to public needs.
Another useful reference is Scott W. Phillips & Dilip K. Das (eds.), Change and Reform in Law Enforcement: Old and New Efforts from Across the Globe (2017, Routledge). This volume provides a comparative look at reform initiatives from various countries, ranging from restructuring training and education to managing corruption and public trust. Several chapters emphasise that reform is most sustainable when it combines policy change with cultural transformation — exactly what Polri must strive for. In particular, the book argues that rank-and-file officers and mid-level managers should be actively involved in reform design and execution, because they often have direct insight into operational realities.
Based on these lessons, a practical implementation strategy for Polri could include creating reform working groups composed not only of top brass but also of patrol officers, trainers, and community representatives. These groups would co-design new policies, test pilot programmes (such as neighbourhood policing), and provide continuous feedback loops. This “bottom-up plus top-down” reform structure would help ensure that changes are relevant, embedded, and resilient.
Finally, leadership development must be paired with structural reform. Drawing from Michael L. Birzer, Gerald J. Bayens & Cliff Roberson’s Principles of Leadership and Management in Law Enforcement (2012, Routledge), Polri could build a training curriculum that integrates leadership theory, ethical decision-making, strategic planning, and modern management tools. Birzer and colleagues emphasise that police managers should be skilled not only in command, but also in mentoring, reflective practice, and long-term organisational planning. Training programmes based on their framework would prepare Polri leaders who can balance operational demands with ethical imperatives.
Integrating these books into Polri’s reform roadmap gives the strategy both empirical grounding and tested models. It ensures that the reform is not abstract or idealistic, but rooted in real-world lessons from successful transformations, while remaining sensitive to Indonesia’s cultural and organisational context.
In conclusion, reforming Polri requires a multi-layered approach: systematic audits, ethical training, community engagement, transparent accountability, technological tools, and deliberate culture change. Each component reinforces the others, creating a resilient system where ethical leadership is operationalised and legitimacy is sustained. Reform is not a single project but an ongoing journey, demanding vigilance, moral clarity, and a commitment to aligning power with public trust.
[Part 5]
