Guardians of Order or Mirrors of Power? (8)

In contemporary Indonesian constitutional practice, the status of police officers occupying civilian positions has been brought into sharp focus by the Constitutional Court’s recent ruling. The Court, through Decision Number 114/PUU-XXIII/2025, declared that the legal provision which once allowed police officers to slip into civilian posts under the guise of assignments from the National Police Chief was no longer compatible with the Constitution. By striking out that permissive phrase, the Court effectively closed the back door that had long enabled members of the police to hold offices that properly belonged to the civilian domain. As a consequence, any police officer who wishes to assume a purely civilian role must now sever institutional ties with the police, either through formal resignation or retirement.

Although the ruling takes effect immediately, the government has taken a more tempered stance regarding officers who were already embedded in civilian posts before the judgment was handed down. The Minister of Law has emphasised that the ruling does not operate retroactively, meaning that those who had already crossed into civilian territory under the previous legal framework will not be compelled to relinquish their roles. Nevertheless, this accommodation has not silenced public debate, as many commentators argue that genuine institutional reform demands a consistent separation between police authority and civilian administration.

This development has also resurfaced older tensions within Indonesia’s governance architecture. Some policymakers maintain that, under the Civil Service Law, there remain specific civilian posts that may still be lawfully filled by police officers. Others contend that such interpretations risk undermining the very principle that the Court sought to protect: the preservation of a civilian-led bureaucracy free from undue influence by uniformed institutions. The ruling, therefore, has not only altered the immediate legal landscape but has also revived a deeper conversation about democratic norms, political neutrality, and the limits of executive discretion.

The Court’s intervention is best understood as a corrective measure aimed at reinforcing the boundary between the state's coercive apparatus and the administrative machinery that serves the public. It signals a move towards greater clarity in the distribution of authority, ensuring that civilian posts remain genuinely civilian and that police officers, should they wish to pursue bureaucratic careers, must do so through the proper channels. This recalibration is likely to shape debates on reform, accountability, and institutional integrity for years to come.

From a theoretical standpoint, the question of whether police officers may occupy civilian positions hinges on fundamental principles of democratic governance. In most modern political systems, the police are categorised as part of the state’s coercive apparatus—institutions empowered to use force on behalf of the public. Civilian offices, by contrast, are designed to operate through administrative judgment, political accountability, and public transparency rather than coercive authority. For that reason, democratic theory generally insists on a clear separation between uniformed services and civilian administration, so that no single institution accumulates excessive power or blurs the boundaries between enforcement and policymaking.

Allowing active police officers to hold civilian posts risks introducing structural biases into the bureaucracy, as the norms and discipline of law-enforcement organisations do not necessarily align with the ethos expected of civil administration. Moreover, it raises concerns about the potential militarisation of public policy, the erosion of civilian oversight, and the concentration of authority in actors who are not meant to wield political influence. In classical constitutional thought, a civilian role must be insulated from coercive institutions to preserve neutrality, due process, and the balance of power.

Thus, in theoretical terms, the prevailing view is that police officers should not occupy civilian positions unless they have relinquished their status within the police force. Once they step outside the institutional hierarchy of law enforcement—through resignation or retirement—they may legitimately compete for or assume civilian roles like any other citizen. This theoretical framework safeguards the distinction between those who enforce the law and those who design, administer, or interpret it, ensuring that governance remains firmly grounded in civilian authority.

Several authoritative works in political theory, democratic governance, and civil–military relations support the principle that police institutions should remain separate from civilian administrative offices. One of the foundational texts is Samuel P. Huntington’s The Soldier and the State (1957, Harvard University Press), which articulates the concept of “objective civilian control” and argues that coercive institutions must be subordinated to, rather than embedded within, the civilian bureaucracy. Although Huntington writes primarily about the military, his framework is widely applied to policing, as both institutions wield coercive power and require insulation from political administration.

Samuel P. Huntington’s argument in The Soldier and the State rests on a foundational concern: that institutions equipped with the legal authority to use force possess an inherently dangerous concentration of power, and therefore must be subordinated to civilian authority rather than folded into the civilian machinery of governance. His central reasoning is that the military—and by extension any coercive arm of the state, such as the police—operates under a logic of hierarchy, obedience, and disciplined coercion. This organisational culture is essential for their effectiveness in defence and enforcement, yet it is profoundly incompatible with the deliberative, pluralistic, and contested nature of civilian political life.

Huntington maintains that if coercive institutions are allowed to occupy or dominate civilian administrative roles, the balance of democratic power will be distorted. Civilian offices are meant to reflect a diversity of social interests, mediated through public accountability, electoral responsiveness, and transparent decision-making. The military ethic, however, values unity, command, and the suppression of dissent—qualities that, while necessary in security institutions, can be deeply corrosive when transplanted into civilian administration. For Huntington, the risk lies in the gradual erosion of the liberal order: as coercive logic permeates civilian governance, democratic norms weaken, policymaking becomes authoritarian in tone, and the line between state coercion and civilian life begins to blur.

He further argues that civilian supremacy is not only a constitutional requirement but also a functional necessity. The state becomes more stable when the military and police are kept professionally separate, focusing on their core duties without political entanglements. Once coercive institutions are allowed to participate in policymaking or occupy civilian posts, they gain influence over the very authorities meant to regulate them, creating a feedback loop of self-empowerment that jeopardises constitutional checks and balances.

Huntington concludes that the integrity of democratic governance depends upon a clear structural boundary: the civilian sphere must remain civilian, and institutions endowed with coercive power must remain subordinate to it. Only through this separation can liberty, accountability, and political neutrality be safeguarded against the natural tendencies of coercive apparatuses to extend their influence.

In Policing Politics: Security Intelligence and the Liberal Democratic State (1994, Frank Cass/Routledge), Peter Gill analyses the intersection of policing, intelligence, and democratic governance. Although he does not directly discuss the phenomenon of police officers occupying civilian administrative positions, his observations regarding police intelligence are highly relevant to the question. Gill emphasises that the police, particularly their special branches, operate within the coercive sphere of the state, exercising powers that can intrude into political and social life. These powers include surveillance, infiltration of political or social organisations, and the capacity to influence public and political outcomes through controlled information. Because these activities are both secretive and potentially influential, he argues, they must be subject to robust civilian oversight. Without such controls, the police risk acting autonomously in ways that compromise democratic accountability, erode public trust, and politicise institutions that should remain neutral.

From this perspective, one can extrapolate that allowing police officers to occupy civilian roles would carry similar risks. Civilian offices are meant to operate transparently, accountably, and through deliberation and negotiation, rather than through coercive authority. By embedding members of a coercive institution into the civilian administrative structure, there is a danger that their organisational culture—emphasising hierarchy, obedience, and control—could distort decision-making. Policies might gradually reflect enforcement priorities rather than public welfare, and institutional neutrality could be undermined. Gill’s broader argument therefore, implies that the separation of coercive institutions from civilian governance is crucial to preserve democratic norms, prevent abuse of power, and maintain the public’s confidence in political and administrative processes.

David H. Bayley’s Patterns of Policing: A Comparative International Analysis (1985, Rutgers University Press) also stresses that modern democratic policing depends on maintaining police professionalism while preventing the infiltration of law-enforcement officers into civilian political offices. Bayley argues that blurring this boundary undermines transparency and weakens civilian oversight.

Bayley argues that the police should remain separate from politics and civilian administrative roles because their core function is fundamentally different from that of civilian governance. Bayley emphasises that police organisations are designed to enforce the law through coercion, hierarchy, and discipline, whereas civilian offices are intended to operate through negotiation, deliberation, and accountability to the public. Blurring these boundaries risks importing the logic of coercion into the democratic decision-making process, which can compromise transparency, participatory governance, and the principle of neutrality that civilian offices must maintain.

Bayley also notes that when police officers occupy political or administrative positions, there is a danger of role confusion. Officers may develop loyalties, networks, or interests that conflict with their duty to enforce the law impartially. The intrusion of policing culture into civilian governance can create policies that are overly punitive, risk-averse, or security-centred, rather than focused on public service and welfare. In comparative studies, he observes that democracies function most effectively when police are professionalised, clearly separate from political influence, and accountable to civilian oversight mechanisms such as elected officials or independent review bodies.

Bayley argues that keeping police out of politics and civilian administration safeguards both the integrity of law enforcement and the quality of democratic governance. This separation ensures that citizens can trust that policing serves public order without being co-opted into partisan or bureaucratic agendas, while civilian institutions retain their deliberative, participatory, and neutral character.

When police officers occupy civilian positions, according to Bayley, the effect on society can be subtle but profound. He explains that such a fusion blurs the boundary between enforcement and governance, leading citizens to perceive that state power is dominated by coercion rather than deliberation. Policies may increasingly reflect a mindset of control and risk aversion, prioritising discipline, surveillance, and order over welfare, participation, or civic engagement. This can create a climate in which citizens feel monitored or constrained, rather than represented and empowered, gradually eroding trust in both civil institutions and the police themselves.

Bayley also highlights that the professional neutrality of the police is compromised when officers take on civilian administrative roles. Officers may develop loyalties or political interests that skew their enforcement decisions, undermining fairness and equality before the law. The intrusion of policing culture into civilian governance can reinforce social hierarchies, favour certain groups over others, and diminish the legitimacy of democratic processes. Over time, this dynamic risks producing a society in which citizens comply out of fear or deference, rather than through voluntary consent and civic responsibility, weakening both public participation and the accountability of government.

In essence, Bayley warns that allowing police into civilian offices not only threatens institutional integrity but also transforms the relationship between the state and the citizen. Where governance becomes tinged with coercive logic, social trust declines, democratic deliberation weakens, and the public may experience everyday life as being managed more by command than by collective agreement.

The controversy surrounding police officers occupying civilian posts provides a natural bridge into the deeper and more urgent conversation about Polri reform. When members of a law-enforcement institution begin to blur the boundaries between civilian governance and coercive authority, it raises fundamental questions about legitimacy, constitutional propriety, and the healthy functioning of a democratic state. The issue is not merely administrative; it is philosophical. A police force that extends itself into civilian domains risks drifting away from its core mandate of service, protection, and impartiality, and instead begins to resemble an instrument of political influence. This very tension—between what the police ought to be and what they risk becoming—creates the perfect rationale for revisiting the idea of reform. It signals that Indonesia requires not only structural adjustments but also a clear reaffirmation of the principle that policing must serve the public, not power. From here, the path towards comprehensive Polri reform becomes not only logical but necessary, as the nation seeks to rebuild trust, reinforce civilian supremacy, and ensure that law-enforcement officers operate within boundaries that safeguard democracy rather than compromise it.

The journey of police reform in Indonesia is, at its core, a profound negotiation between power, legitimacy, and public trust. It is not merely a bureaucratic exercise or a technical rearrangement of organisational charts; it is a moral project that asks whether the state wishes to rule through fear or govern through the confidence of its citizens. Throughout this study, one theme has surfaced with unwavering clarity: a police force earns its authority not by the weight of its weapons, but by the depth of its integrity.

The evidence we have surveyed paints a complex landscape. Some empirical studies reveal that many Indonesians acknowledge the stabilising role of the police, particularly in maintaining public order and responding to crime. Yet alongside this appreciation lies a persistent undercurrent of scepticism. Doubts remain about independence, integrity, and whether internal reforms are genuinely transformative or merely cosmetic. These tensions suggest that a police institution may be structurally modern, yet culturally tethered to older habits that hinder the growth of legitimacy.

Critics have also pointed out the fragility of reforms conducted in isolation. A transformation designed solely by elite ranks, without meaningful participation from civil society, risks becoming little more than rhetoric—what Indonesians wryly call omon-omon. Genuine reform, in contrast, requires transparency, public oversight, and mechanisms that allow citizens to hold policing accountable not only after failure but during the everyday exercise of authority. The police cannot fully reform themselves without the support of society, and society cannot fully trust a police force that insists on reforming itself alone.

Yet optimism is not misplaced. Several indicators suggest that public trust has experienced measurable improvement over recent years. This gradual rise demonstrates that change—when sincerely implemented—can reshape perceptions and strengthen democratic institutions. Small gains matter, for trust is built not through grand proclamations but through consistent acts of fairness, restraint, and humanity visible in the daily life of the nation.

Practical checklist to judge whether reform is real (what the public should monitor):

• The composition and independence of reform bodies (no conflicts of interest; clear civil-society representation).
• Legal and procedural changes are published openly, with timeframes and implementation plans.
• Transparent reporting of disciplinary actions and outcomes (not just announcements).
• Independent, external audits of budgets, procurement and complaint handling.
• Sustained community engagement and measurable improvements in complaint resolution and reduction of abuses.

If those indicators are met and sustained, public sentiment is likely to move from scepticism to conditional trust; if they are not, most public commentary suggests the reform will be judged as “omon-omon.”

The future of Indonesian policing, therefore, sits upon two intertwined foundations. The first is ethical leadership: commanders who model humility, responsibility, and a genuine commitment to service. The second is participatory governance: citizens who are invited to play an active role in shaping the policies, expectations, and culture of the police institution. When these two forces converge, reform ceases to be a promise and begins to become a lived reality.

In the end, a strong state does not intimidate, but one that is trusted. Indonesia’s next chapter in Polri reform is not simply about creating a more capable police force, but about nurturing a relationship in which citizens feel protected rather than policed. It is a vision in which authority flows from legitimacy, and legitimacy flows from the people. Only then can Indonesia move fully from the logic of a powerful state to the wisdom of a trusted police.

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