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.