The Jungschlaeger Case

In none of the newly independent nations of the Far East is hatred for the disinherited colonial masters so bitter and abiding as in Indonesia; in none is the notion of simple courtroom justice so little understood. Indonesia's bitterness and its slap-happy courtroom practices have reached fever pitch in the year-long trial of Leon Nicolaas Jungschlaeger, a 52-year-old Dutch citizen accused of conspiring to overthrow the Indonesian government. The Jungschlaeger case has become a cause celebre throughout Indonesia and The Netherlands.

Jungschlaeger, a onetime ship's captain, was head of the Dutch Military Intelligence in Indonesia after World War II. He won the lasting hatred of Indonesians by helping to suppress the Indonesia revolt against the Dutch (1947-49), was accused of using inhuman interrogation methods, e.g., putting a boring tick on the navel of a prisoner and waiting for the man to break. When he decided to return to the new Indonesian republic as a Dutch shipping firm executive, his friends warned him against it.

Cries for Blood. The Indonesian government was convinced that many Dutchmen were supporting rebel groups in the hills in a last-ditch fight against the new republic. In January 1954 it began to round up about 30 Dutch suspects, and Jungschlaeger was arrested and thrown in jail. Thirteen months later, he was haled into a dirty, steaming courtroom in Djakarta and charged with leading and supplying two terrorist bands of rebels, with the help of the U.S. embassy, the British, and assorted Dutch agencies. The prosecutor asked the death penalty.

Before long it became obvious that, whatever Jungschlaeger's guilt, the trial was overhung with political passions irrelevant to justice. Neither the judge nor the prosecutor was a lawyer. Unreproved, courtroom spectators cried out: "Death to Jungschlaeger." Defense lawyers were harassed. An Indonesian lawyer quit, declaring, "It is impossible for the defense to have its witnesses heard."

Dutch Lawyer Herman Bouman, who opened for the defense, was accused of being a criminal accomplice in the case he was defending. After police badgered him and searched his home, he fled to Holland, leaving his wife Mieke behind. The Indonesians announced that Bouman's flight proved his guilt, and the prosecution pointed an implicating finger at Bouman's wife "since especially in Western society, it is not possible that a man goes abroad without his wife knowing it."

Wife Mieke, a teacher of Latin and Greek and no lawyer, was not cowed. When other Dutch lawyers refused to defend Jungschlaeger in such circumstances, she took over the case. Indonesian mobs threw garbage at her, chanted "Dutch bitch" when they saw her. But Mieke Bouman doggedly carried on, and has become a heroine in The Netherlands.

Thieves for Witnesses. Being a stranger to orderly legal procedure did not hurt Mieke Bouman: so was the court. Two prosecution witnesses testified in court that they had given evidence under duress. One witness was a convicted thief.

Time and again, witnesses were allowed to contradict themselves and change their stories without reproof. Sample: Thief Willie Manoch testified that Jungschlaeger brought an arms-laden ship into Djambi in May. The defense replied that, due to low tides, the river port could not be entered in May. Said Manoch: "Oh yes, that's true. It was in October.'' Soothed the prosecutor: "One can make a mistake." Jungschlaeger himself pointed out that the Americans, Dutch and British were supposed to be involved in this "secret" operation. "And why then," he cried, "am I standing here alone, like the lonely chieftain of a crowd of ghosts?"

Last week, in the trial's 13th month. Leon Jungschlaeger waited out the closing weeks in a 5-ft.-by-9-ft. cell in Djakarta's Tjipinang Prison. Said the International Commission of Jurists: "It is abundantly clear . . . that the accused Jungschlaeger has not been accorded a fair trial." As the prosecutor delivered his rebuttal, Indonesian Judge Gustaaf Adolf Maengkom nodded approvingly from time to time. After all, six months ago he had told a reporter: "I know this man is guilty."

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