Where Is Bakamla RI Heading?

Jakarta (ANTARA) - It cannot be denied that the world is currently confronted with Indo-Pacific geopolitical rivalry, the escalation of the South China Sea conflicts, and changes in patterns of global maritime security threats. The question is, why does Indonesia still grapple with the classic issue of who actually has the authority to protect the national sea?

That question again drags the Indonesian Maritime Security Agency (Bakamla RI) into a long debate about effectiveness, authority, and the urgency of its existence amid demands for greater state budget efficiency.

As the world’s largest archipelagic nation, Indonesia holds a highly strategic maritime position. The national sea routes are not only economic spaces but also arenas for global influence. The North Natuna Sea, the Malacca Strait, and the Indonesian Archipelago Sea Lanes (ALKI) have become part of an international geopolitical contest involving major powers.

Threats arising are increasingly complex. No longer merely piracy or fish theft, but also grey-zone operations, infiltration by foreign vessels, cross-border smuggling, human trafficking, and wars of perception and the gathering of strategic data through maritime civilian activity.

Understanding such a situation, the need for a modern coast guard institution is logically justified. Many major nations strengthen non-military maritime security agencies as primary instruments to face contemporary maritime threats. The United States Coast Guard is the spearhead of protection of American waters. The Japan Coast Guard plays a central role in facing pressure from China in the East China Sea. Even the China Coast Guard has now become a tool of Beijing’s projection of power in the South China Sea.

Indonesia is attempting to follow this pattern through the formation of Bakamla RI. In concept, Bakamla is expected to be the embryo of a national coast guard capable of integrating cross-sector maritime security.

However the problem is that Indonesia did not start from a blank slate. Before Bakamla existed, Indonesian seas were already filled with many institutions with similar functions. There is the Indonesian National Armed Forces Navy with its maritime security operations. There is the Sea and Coast Guard Unit (KPLP) under the Ministry of Transportation. There is Water Police, patrols of the Ministry of Maritime Affairs and Fisheries, and even Customs.

All have patrol ships. All have inspection powers. All have institutional interests at sea. Mutually claiming obedience to law is inevitable. Each body or organisation has its own claim to authority at sea.

As a result, Bakamla’s presence raises a new question: is Indonesia building a national coast guard, or simply adding one more institution to the already complex maritime bureaucracy?

Criticism of Bakamla largely stems from overlapping authorities. In many operations, the public finds it difficult to concretely distinguish Bakamla’s functions from KPLP or other agencies’ patrols. Not infrequently, maritime security operations remain dominated by the Indonesian Navy (TNI AL).

On the other hand, Bakamla has not yet achieved strong command supremacy. Institutionally, Bakamla is often positioned as a coordinator, not a sole operator. Yet modern maritime threats require speed of decision, radar integration, interoperability of fleets, and a solid chain of command.

This creates a strategic dilemma. On the one hand, Indonesia does need a modern coast guard to counter non-military threats at sea. On the other hand, the country faces tighter fiscal efficiency pressures.

The question becomes highly relevant: can the country afford to fund so many patrol institutions at once?

In terms of fiscal efficiency, fragmentation of maritime security clearly becomes a problem. The state must fund patrol ships across various agencies, separate radar systems, different command centres, logistics and human resources that are not integrated.

Ironically, although budgets are spread across many institutions, the effectiveness of maritime security has not been fully optimal. This is where the urgency of national maritime reform becomes more evident.

Indonesia is not short of institutions. What is lacking is integration and the political courage to determine who should hold the main authority for national maritime security.

If Bakamla is to be preserved, the state must be bold to strengthen it fully. Bakamla cannot continue to be in a ‘half coast guard’ position. Authority must be clarified, the fleet reinforced, and other civilian patrol functions integrated to avoid ongoing duplication.

But if the state deems Bakamla ineffective, merger or total restructuring should also be opened rationally. There is no point in preserving an institution that is merely a coordination symbol without coercive operational power.

The most dangerous option is to maintain the status quo.

For in the midst of changes in the global maritime landscape, threats do not wait for Indonesia’s bureaucracy to finish debating. Rivalry of major powers continues to move. Foreign vessel activity in strategic areas is increasing. Transnational crime is becoming more adaptable. Meanwhile, Indonesia remains trapped by sectoral ego among sea agencies.

In modern geopolitics, the sea is not only about physical security. The sea is an arena for economy, energy, data, logistics, and even influence warfare.

A country that fails to build an integrated maritime security system will ultimately lose the ability to read and control its own maritime space.

Therefore, the question “Quo Vadis Bakamla RI?” is not solely about the fate of a single agency. The question reflects the broader direction of Indonesia’s maritime strategy going forward.

Does Indonesia want a strong, modern, and integrated national coast guard?

Or will Indonesia continue to maintain the old model in which many agencies,