Symbol of justice

Symbol of justice

The trial of former president Soeharto, which opened in
Jakarta on Thursday, is a symbolic gesture more than anything
else on the part of the government to show that rule of law
prevails in this country. The trial is being conducted largely to
live up to the government's promise to restore the supremacy of
law. Like most things that are symbolic, it has little substance,
if any at all.

Going by the charge leveled against the 79-year-old former
autocrat, the case has little to do with justice. It is a far cry
from it, and the way it is developing, it could end up making a
dangerous mockery, or even worse, travesty of justice.

Soeharto has been charged with corruption, not in his capacity
as president but as chairman of seven charitable foundations. The
sum involved is not the billions of U.S. dollars that many
independent investigators say he and his family amassed during
his 32 years in power, but just over $500 million. The secondary
charge, that of abusing power, again pertains to his capacity as
the foundations' chairman, and not the misuse of presidential
power, including human rights violations, that he and his regime
reportedly inflicted on millions of people in this country.

Soeharto's trial is simply a fulfillment of President
Abdurrahman Wahid's promise upon taking office in October to
bring the former strongman to court as demanded by the people.

A trial has come to be seen as a crucial part of his campaign
against corruption, collusion and nepotism. The strongest
indication that this is simply a symbolic gesture came from
Abdurrahman himself, who has already promised to issue a
presidential pardon as soon as Soeharto is convicted. Such a
statement in itself is improper as it demonstrates a presumption
of guilt before due process of law runs its full course.

There is another reason why a Soeharto trial is perceived as
important. The government cannot nab big corruptors of the past
unless it catches the biggest fish of them all first. And
Soeharto seems to fit the bill. Earlier corruption investigations
crashed before or on reaching court because the suspects --
Soeharto's cronies and one of his children -- used the line of
defense that their conduct was legal and acceptable by the
standards of the regime of the time. They used Soeharto as a
shield. The task for the government is therefore clear. Get
Soeharto convicted first, and the road will then be clear to go
after the other corruptors.

In December, newly appointed Attorney General Marzuki Darusman
duly reopened the case, which had been closed two months earlier
by then president B.J. Habibie. The investigation became
protracted as investigators and Soeharto's lawyers debated the
fine points of the law every step of the way. Soeharto's ailing
health complicated and delayed the process.

Somehow and somewhere along the way, the case seems to have
been watered down to what must be the least alleged misdemeanor
by the former president. As the case stands, even a guilty
verdict against Soeharto as chairman of seven foundations will
not lead to the prosecution of his cronies, families and
officials of his regime. Aging and ailing, it seems Soeharto and
Soeharto alone will bear the brunt of all the sins of his regime.

Even as the case comes before a panel of judges, there are
doubts whether Soeharto will ever make it to the court. We could
be in for a long wait before learning the outcome of this whole
process, what with the court struggling to determine whether the
suspect is physically and mentally fit enough to stand trial.

Since the whole exercise was founded upon the premise that
Soeharto must be brought to trial, come what may -- instead of a
genuine attempt to uphold justice -- the government seems to have
become obsessed with seeing him in the dock. The trial has become
a major public spectacle, but this will not serve justice.

The government's determination to go through the motions has
put the process on a dangerous course, with the possibility of
backfiring. If Soeharto is genuinely sick -- physically and
mentally -- as his lawyers claim, dragging him to court could
turn the tables and the government could be portrayed as the bad
guy.

Under such a condition, Soeharto will never receive the fair
trial to which he is entitled like any other citizen in this
country. Insisting that he turns up for the trial in whatever
condition could then be perceived more as a travesty of justice.

The matter is now in the hands of the court so we have to let
it run its full course. But this episode has taught us a valuable
lesson: That justice and the rule of law cannot be served by
simply turning them into symbolic playthings.