PRIME NEWS POST

The INDONESIAN, (Jakarta) — A republic may possess the most sophisticated surveillance technology, well‑trained security personnel, and layered intelligence systems. Still, all of those resources lose their meaning when authority meant to protect the nation is allegedly used to overstep legal boundaries. That concern carries extra weight when the suspected wiretapping targets the President, state officials, political figures, journalists, and members of civil society.

That irony has come to the forefront in the alleged illegal wiretapping case currently being handled by Bareskrim Polri. On 3 November 2026, Bareskrim announced the naming of three suspects: Listyo Sigit Prabowo, Inspector General Ahrie Sonta Nasution, and Inspector General Eko Hadi Santoso.

According to investigators, the suspected wiretapping took place between 2025 and 2026. A number of phone numbers were reportedly entered into the Lawful Interception Management System (LIMS) without the required verification and proper procedures. Targets listed included President Prabowo Subianto, state officials, political figures, media outlets, community organizations, non‑governmental groups, and business figures. Investigators also uncovered an allegation that records from the wiretapping were deleted in October 2026.

It is critical to note that being named a suspect is not a guilty verdict. Every allegation must be proven through a fair, transparent trial that upholds the presumption of innocence. Even so, this case, which strikes at the heart of state authority and law‑enforcement institutions, cannot end with the simple announcement of several individuals’ legal status.

Far more fundamental questions remain: how was the state’s surveillance authority allegedly used without the proper procedures, and for whose benefit was the collected information gathered?

Information carries major strategic value within politics and bureaucracy. Data on policy decisions, leadership rotations, cabinet dynamics, and communications among decision‑makers can be a source of influence. Still, investigators must determine whether there were specific interests behind the suspected wiretapping, whether it was tied to jockeying for power, protecting certain positions, or serving other objectives.

Those questions must be answered through formal investigation rather than public speculation. The public has a right to know who issued the orders, who carried them out, who had knowledge of the activity, where the captured data was sent, and for what purposes it was used.

This case also provides an opportunity to re‑examine the bureaucratic culture often referred to as “Asal Bapak Senang,” or prioritizing pleasing superiors over reporting facts. Under that pattern, reports are shaped to satisfy leadership, criticism is trimmed away, problems are disguised, and failures are repackaged to look like successes.

Before their superiors, everyone appears compliant. Loyalty is voiced in speeches and ceremonies. Decisions seem to receive unanimous support, even though the reality behind closed‑door meetings may differ sharply from the official reports.

When honesty is given no room to surface, public trust erodes and suspicion grows. Information that should travel through official, legal channels then risks being sought through unlawful means.

It may be that the country’s bureaucratic problem is not a lack of information, but a shortage of courage to state the truth openly.

The impact of this case also extends beyond the security of the President and high‑ranking officials. If the alleged abuse of authority is proven, the privacy rights of ordinary members of the public become a very serious concern.

That raises further questions: what about journalists uncovering alleged irregularities? What about activists delivering criticism? What about regular citizens using their phones for family matters, work, and private life?

Who guarantees that surveillance powers will never be used for purposes outside the law? To whom can ordinary people turn for protection when the very institutions meant to safeguard public security are accused of exceeding their authority?

For those reasons, investigators must examine the full sequence of events in the case. Identifying suspects alone will not be enough. Law enforcers need to lay out the full timeline, the legal basis for using the LIMS system, the chain of command, which parties had access, how the data was used, and the suspected deletion of digital evidence.

If additional parties are found to be involved, regardless of their rank or position, the legal process must move forward based on evidence and existing regulations. Accountability must not stop only with those who carried out the orders while higher‑ranking potential collaborators go unexamined.

This is not a demand for the state to hand over all of its classified security information to the public. The government still has legitimate strategic interests to protect. But national security must never be used to justify actions that break the law. In fact, the greater a person’s authority, the heavier their burden of accountability.

Ultimately, this case presents a clear paradox: the institutions mandated to uphold the law must now prove that the law truly applies to everyone, including those within the inner circles of power.

People may shout pledges of loyalty, make promises of allegiance, and wear official uniforms. True integrity, however, is proven through action — especially when someone with the power to abuse authority chooses instead to submit to the rule of law.

A state needs more than just the technology to listen to its citizens’ conversations. It must also have the courage to listen to criticism, accept the truth, and ensure that power never stands above the law.

A republic does not lose its dignity because of criticism. It loses public trust when the truth no longer has a place to be heard.

Reported from various media sources //photo from Google documents // contribution by Prime News Post international online media // ist