In an effort to prove his innocence and to expose police corruption, he storms the police headquarters and holds several police officers and civilians hostage.

The hostages are successfully rescued in the end, with Jackson impressively fleeing the crime
scene.  

“You must have some idea,” said a police officer who questions one of the civilian hostages for clues as to where Jackson is going.

“I’d really like to help, but my lips are sealed,” the civilian replies. “Frankly I don’t trust any of you; I’m very disappointed in all of you.”

After listening to those lines, I was sure that many Indonesians would agree that the setting of the movie would have been more suitable if it had taken place in one of the departments of Indonesia’s National Police.

I imagine a situation in where the National Police sues a journalist from Tempo magazine who then flees and becomes fugitive — if I knew something about his existence and I were ever investigated, I would utter the exact same words as that civilian from the movie did.

Observing the National Police’s attitude at the moment, it is not difficult to identify why it is currently considered the least admired institution in Indonesia.

In addition to its notorious status as the most corrupt organization in the country, it could also be perceived as one of the worst government institutions when it comes to the commitment to serve the people.

Truthfully speaking, I hate everything to do with the police — a sentiment that most Indonesians would be feeling at the moment.

In fact, I can still genuinely remember when I had to pay a bribe to a police officer to pass my driver’s license test. During my previous attempts, I insisted to take the test without paying any bribe, which led me to fail the test without any explanation from the officer in charge.

Or when I accompanied my friend, who had his car stolen, and we had to visit the police station four times just to find an available police officer to handle the paperwork for the car’s insurance.

“I’m busy here, come by some other time,” said one police officer during our third visit. “The other [two police officers in this department] should handle you, but my partner has not returned yet from his holiday and the other one is sleeping and cannot be disturbed,” he said while pointing to the other officer who slept next to him innocently during office hours.

And regarding the recent fallout of from exorbitant bank accounts of several police generals, in reality few were shocked when the news came out.

If we look around the neighborhood; the presence of police generals on Rp 9-million salaries (which includes, according to Tempo magazine, their various grants and allowances) yet still manage to own luxurious houses and vehicles is something worthy of the news — it is something that is all too familiar among Indonesians.

The National Police, however, was enraged and almost sued Tempo as they thought the magazine, in the police’s ridiculous mindset, compared members of their institution to a bunch of pigs on the magazine’s cover.

As soon as the case was made public, Molotov cocktails were hurled at the Tempo office and, not so long afterwards, an Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) activist was beaten and had to be hospitalized.

By reacting in such a way, they even proved that the article’s allegations were true; if the facts revealed were false and those police generals were clean or earned the money legally, then why be bothered to waste so much energy responding in such childish and frantic fashion?

And those rich National Police generals, who were flustered by the exposure of this hefty case, are the only ones with the motive to commit such violent acts.

Of course, the police generals will not admit to being responsible for such violence, and the National Police will argue that the scenario is just another political plan to slander and taint their public image.

But think of the logic behind their argument: what’s the use of tainting the image of an institution whose public reputation is already in tatters?

After all these disgraces, if those rich police generals still reject public accusations and refuse external interventions into their institution; perhaps the best they can do is trace the source of the money with which their family buys their daily food, and take a look at themselves in a mirror.

There are only three ways a person can become exceptionally rich outside the means of their own salary.

First is by becoming an entrepreneur, who builds their own business; second is by becoming investor who plays and speculates in financial instruments like stocks and bonds; and third is, well, by through corruption and receiving illegal bribes and embezzling money.

If those top-brass police officers are neither successful entrepreneurs nor a savvy investors, then perhaps the third category fits them best.

Whether they like it or not, so far it seems to be the best explanation to baffled Indonesians who are currently wondering how to transform their Rp 9-million monthly salary into a multi-billion-rupiah bank
account.

The writer is a student at the University of Indonesia’s School of Economics.

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