We have not seen the full political fallout of the police scandal

The detention of former National Police chief Gen. Listyo Sigit Prabowo on allegations of illegal wiretapping has become one of the most consequential political scandals in recent Indonesian history. Yet the country has probably not seen its full fallout. If anything, the affair is only beginning to reveal how deeply police power penetrated the political system and how weak oversight and accountability have become.

For now, investigators have confined the case to unlawful surveillance carried out without authorization, in violation of the Criminal Code and the Electronic Information and Transactions (ITE) Law. Police have named three generals as suspects, and prosecutors are focusing on wiretapping allegedly conducted between January 2025 and October 2026. The charges carry maximum sentences of up to 10 years. According to investigators, the targets included President Prabowo Subianto himself, as well as senior officials, politicians, journalists, activists and businesspeople.

The scandal shows how much power the police accumulated over the past decade. In a democracy with effective checks and balances, surveillance of a sitting president by the police would be unthinkable. Yet the allegations suggest parts of the institution operated with extraordinary autonomy and confidence. It is telling that the case became public only after Listyo was removed from the post he had held for more than five years and moved to the Presidential Office as chief of staff. Without that reshuffle, the alleged activities might never have come to light. The timing raises uncomfortable questions about what senior political figures knew, and why the matter surfaced only after the balance of power shifted.

Constitutionally, the police answer to the president. In practice, that arrangement may have produced the opposite effect: because the National Police reports directly to the president, it has become one of the country’s most powerful political actors, able to negotiate concessions and expand its influence under successive administrations. Listyo, like several predecessors, leveraged both the institutional power of the National Police and the personal influence that came with leading it.

Governments increasingly relied on the police for tasks far beyond law enforcement, and active and retired officers moved into civilian posts across government agencies, state-owned enterprises and regulatory bodies. The line between policing and governance blurred. Rather than serving solely as an instrument of public security, the institution became a political stakeholder with interests of its own. If the allegations are proven, they will reveal not just individual misconduct but systemic failure.

If the surveillance extended to the President, senior officials and others, it may have gathered not only intelligence of national importance but also deeply private, potentially damaging material. Whoever has access to it could retain leverage over the political process, including the investigation itself. Authorities, politicians and even alleged victims may hesitate to push the case to its conclusion if they fear leaks, selective release or blackmail. Whether or not such pressure is being exerted, the mere possibility shows the corrosive effect of unchecked surveillance.

Surveillance on this scale, sustained for nearly two years against prominent figures, would almost certainly have required technicians, analysts, supervisors and operational support at multiple levels. And if the former police chief is shown to have led the operation from the top, it is hard to believe it was conceived and sustained by three officers acting alone. The investigation may reveal a far broader network of participants, beneficiaries and enablers, inside and perhaps outside the institution.

The public will want to know who authorized the surveillance, what the wiretaps yielded and how the information was used. Did it influence political decisions, bureaucratic appointments, business disputes or electoral calculations? The answers will determine whether this remains a criminal case or becomes a broader political crisis. Particularly explosive is the allegation that the President was a target. Should evidence emerge that he was surveilled for political motives, the legal implications could be far graver than the current charges, potentially touching on attempts to undermine constitutional authority.

Attention is also likely to turn to former president Joko Widodo, who appointed Listyo and presided over much of the period in which the National Police’s political influence grew. Indonesia’s police culture is shaped heavily by patronage networks and personal loyalties, so investigators, politicians and the public will inevitably ask whether broader political interests were linked to the operation. This is especially sensitive given the widely discussed power struggle between the Widodo and Prabowo camps. Even without direct evidence, the scandal will be read through the lens of elite competition.

The damage will unfold on three fronts: public confidence in a law enforcement institution already doubted for its professionalism and impartiality; a political landscape in which rival factions seek to exploit or contain the scandal; and the wider debate over concentrated state power and the weak oversight meant to restrain it.

Most importantly, the scandal is likely to revive demands for comprehensive police reform. Earlier efforts produced limited results and met resistance from within. Now the issue is no longer efficiency or professionalism but accountability, civilian oversight and limits on police authority. For the National Police, transparency is no longer optional; it is a prerequisite for institutional survival. The arrest of a former police chief is dramatic enough, but the real significance of National Police-gate lies in what it reveals about the distribution of power within the Indonesian state.