Making history
WHEN Spain's most famous judge, Baltasar Garzon, goes on trial today, nobody in the courtroom will ignore the vast implications of the case. Known for his human rights crusades and for making history by trying to extradite former Chilean ruler Augusto Pinochet, Garzon is charged with illegally intercepting conversations between corruption suspects and their lawyers in 2009.
His supporters, who include human rights activists in Europe and Latin America, see the trial at the Supreme Court as part of a witch-hunt against a judge who dared tackle the taboo surrounding Spain's 1939-75 right-wing dictatorship.
They point out that a week later, another trial is scheduled to open at the same court against Garzon, this time over accusations of professional misconduct when trying to investigate the rights abuses of the late Spanish ruler Francisco Franco.
That trial "threatens the concept of accountability in Spain and beyond," Human Rights Watch said in a statement.
Garzon's Spanish opponents, however, slam him as an overly ambitious fame-seeker who does not shun from reviving the social divisions of the Franco era. Elegant in his sharp suits, glasses and white hair combed backwards, the 56-yearold judge has long been making headlines.
He has pursued high-profile suspects, ranging from drug lords to violent Basque separatists and other terrorists. But it was his failed attempt to extradite Pinochet in 1998 that catapulted him to international notoriety.
Garzon subsequently investigated alleged human rights violations in other countries as well. He obtained a 30-year prison sentence for Argentine military officer Adolfo Scilingo at a Spanish court, and even ordered the arrest of Osama bin Laden. The judge's human rights activism prompted admirers to propose him for the Nobel Peace Prize.
And yet, when Garzon tried in 2008 to probe similar abuses in Spain itself, accusing Franco and his collaborators of the killings of more than 100,000 opponents during the 1936-39 civil war and the ensuing dictatorship, he ran into trouble.
Prosecutors close to the then opposition forced him to drop his inquiry, and two groups with links to Francoism sued him, arguing that he had violated a 1977 amnesty.