Pigai, Petrus and Motorcycle Bandits
But I see it from a different angle. Perhaps Pigai, consciously or not, is reminding us of an old lesson often forgotten: that a sense of security built on lawless violence carries long-term risks. We have experienced this before.
During the mysterious shootings era, or Petrus, the state confronted a wave of troubling hooliganism. The chosen approach was a hardline one: executing street criminals to instill fear. Victims’ bodies were typically left on roadside edges or dumped in forests, their hands often tied or wrapped in sacks.
The secret operation conducted between 1982 and 1985 initially seemed effective. Thugs, recidivists, and gali (gang members) went into hiding. Crime rates dropped, and the public felt the state was present with an iron fist.
But behind this, serious issues emerged: victims falling without clear judicial processes, suspected misidentification, and blurred accountability boundaries. Records indicate victims ranged from hundreds to thousands, depending on sources and timeframes. More crucial than the numbers is this: when state violence operates without strict controls, the risk of injustice grows.
During the reform era, the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) investigated the case from 2008 to 2012, interviewing survivors and families, and visiting murder sites. Their findings confirmed severe human rights violations, which they submitted to the Attorney General’s Office for follow-up. However, this was never acted upon for various reasons.
In late December 2022, former President Joko Widodo, on behalf of the state, acknowledged and regretted 12 past human rights violations, including the 1982-1985 mysterious killings.
Reflecting on this case, the fundamental question remains: who has the right to decide who deserves to be shot?
We cannot ignore that motorcycle banditry is no longer confined to nighttime. In some cases, perpetrators operate during daylight, even in residential alleys. Bandits’ audacity is rising while public safety erodes. Social media has seen the hashtag #JakartaDaruratBegal, and some areas of Jakarta are dubbed ‘Gotham City’.
In such circumstances, public pressure for harsh measures is understandable. Yet it is precisely here that the state is tested: whether its response remains within legal bounds or succumbs to the shortcut of instant violence.
We can also look to Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte’s ‘war on drugs’, where security forces were granted wide latitude to repress those suspected or deemed dangerous. According to human rights groups and international monitors, thousands died in the operation.
Some view this approach as successful in creating deterrence. Yet it also sparked prolonged debates over the limits of state power, accuracy of law enforcement on the ground, and the risk of misidentification when use-of-force standards loosen.
This is the crux: hardline approaches may yield short-term order, but do not automatically guarantee long-term justice and accountability.
Thus, in motorcycle banditry cases, the question is not merely ‘whether to fight hard’, but ‘how to keep state violence within legal bounds’. We are not lacking public anger; what we often lack is a preventive and enforcement system that works before crimes occur.
Today’s banditry shows increasingly bold patterns: occurring not just at night, but during daylight in relatively busy residential alleys. This signals gaps in public surveillance that require a more systematic response.
At this point, more sensible solutions lie outside the ‘shoot on sight’ logic.
First, strengthen environmental surveillance by installing CCTV in high-risk areas, including residential alleys, isolated routes, and access points to dense zones. Second, utilise vehicle tracking technology such as GPS on motorcycles to expedite recovery when stolen. Third, and most fundamentally, bolster consistent police patrols. The presence of Indonesia’s National Police in vulnerable areas should not only be for apprehending perpetrators post-crime, but for preventing crimes from occurring in the first place.