Mayor Lim: Consistent crimefighter

Mayor Lim: Consistent crimefighter

The City of Manila’s Mayor Alfredo Lim made our day again. He has once more shown how consistent and admirable an enemy of crime he is.

The Filipino “Dirty Harry” vowed last Monday not to lift a finger to help his son, Manuel, who was arrested in a drug bust.

He said “Manuel should be man enough to face the music. I will not protect him. I will not lift a finger to help him. Whatever trouble he has got himself into he must bear by himself.”

Manuel is a 44-year-old man. He had been arrested with two other suspects for allegedly trying to sell methamphetamine—also known as shabu, which is the most popular illegal drug in the country. They did not know that their sale was a sting. Their buyer was an undercover agent of the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency.

Police have filed charges against the young Lim and his companions. If convicted, Manuel could face a long prison term for selling shabu.

A model LGU official

We have always admired Mayor Lim for being a staunch anti-crime crusader. He cleaned Manila’s red-light districts of prostitutes and drug dealers in his previous (pre-Lito Atienza) terms as mayor of the Philippine capital. He is a model for other local government officials.

Not too many Filipinos liked his use of the spray-paint in one of his anti-drug campaigns. What he did was spray-paint warnings on the the houses of suspected drug pushers. This was criticized by activists as a violation of the house-owners human rights. Besides, they reasoned, some of the residents in the spray-painted houses—the wives and children and parents of the actual drug pusher—were most likely innocent. What if some crazed anti-drug crusader threw a grenade at the house?

Mayor Lim relented and stopped his unusual campaign. But it was effective. Many of Manila’s drug pushers moved to other places—especially Pasay and the Baclaran area.

We need more public officials with Mayor Lim’s honesty and consistency as a crime-fighter.

It must have been painful for him to make the decision to let the law take its course in the case of his flesh-and-blood Manuel.

Mayor Lim’s posture runs counter to the feudalistic and overly-personalistic mentality of the Filipinos. That mentality is often the source of corruption in this country.

A less strong-willed and honest powerholder than Mayor Lim would have surely sprung Manuel out. The mayor could have easily managed such an operation. He is after all a former chief of the national police and a former senator. But it would have sullied his integrity.

If President Arroyo had been as firm a crime and corruption fighter as Mayor Lim, she would not have to suffer for the alleged corruption of her underlings—and perhaps some close friends and political creditors—whose wrongdoings are being exposed in Senate investigations.

Many people of good will are not joining the anti-Arroyo forces holding rallies and trying to organize the public into forming a massive movement that will force her out of office.

Among these are the Catholic bishops and the impressive body of former senior government officials (FSGO). These two groups have made sharp assessments of government corruption. They see the President as—at least—negligent in curbing corruption that has cost this country scores of billions. The FSGO says she must be central in these alleged corrupt deals.

Yet they do not want to add their voices to the call for her resignation or ouster by people power.

They want her to continue being president until her term ends in 2010. But they do insist that she must zealously go after her administration’s monsters of corruption.

We hope the President heeds the CBCP and the FSGO. Doing so can’t possibly be as painful as Mayor Lim’s resolve not to lift a finger to help his son out of the mess he has put himself in.

Lim as Malacañang anti-corruption czar

Here’s our inspired thought: Mayor Alfredo Lim—despite being an opposition party member and a close friend of former President Estrada who has of late been actively speaking against President Arroyo and asking her to resign—is one of those men of goodwill who want President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo to finish her term.

He has vowed to keep her safe from any force that will unconstitutionally push her out of the Palace.

Why not make Mayor Lim the Palace’s anti-corruption czar? He can be that while keeping his job as Manila mayor.

But, of course, if she takes our unsolicited suggestion, she has to give Mayor Lim the proper equipment and resources to collar the thieves and scoundrels in the corridors of power.

Magnificent

Magnificent

The motion of defense counsel to dispense with a full reading of the Sandiganbayan decisions in the perjury and plunder cases against Joseph Estrada has allowed the ex-president, his family and his allies to fudge the truth--and confuse the public.

This is unfortunate, because the rulings, especially the 262-page decision in the plunder case, are a clear example of solid, straightforward legal reasoning. There are certain errors, to be sure, such as an innocent confusion between the two Estrada vs. Sandiganbayan decisions upholding the constitutionality of the plunder law, but in the main the three Sandiganbayan justices outdid themselves: They sift confidently through the mass of evidence, organize the most salient, set forth their findings of fact--and then apply the law.

Every single assertion made by Estrada and his supporters since Wednesday's promulgation can be answered directly from the decision.

Sen. Jinggoy Estrada, for instance, assailed the court (the same court which acquitted him) for convicting his father on the illegal gambling charge. Since when did jueteng money, he asked for argument's sake, become public funds?

His question is irrelevant, because the plunder law penalizes any public official who systematically amasses ill-gotten wealth. The "public treasury" is only one of six possible sources of illegal wealth specified by the law. The sixth, in fact, can be understood as a catch-all condition: "By taking undue advantage of official position, authority, relationship, connection or influence to unjustly enrich himself or themselves at the expense and to the damage and prejudice of the Filipino people and the Republic of the Philippines." (The decision quotes this ringing line toward its conclusion.)

We have to remember that the plunder law--Republic Act 7080, as amended--came into being as a legislative reaction to the excesses of the Marcos regime. (Now that was plunder, on a grand, one-for-the-Guinness-book-of-world-records scale.) As Justice Josue Bellosillo of the Supreme Court wrote, over a decade after RA 7080 became law: "Drastic and radical measures are imperative to fight the increasingly sophisticated, extraordinarily methodical and economically catastrophic looting of the national treasury."

In its own decision, the Sandiganbayan quotes at length from the Explanatory Note to the Senate bill that helped lead to the plunder law. One passage reads: "The acts and/or omissions sought to be penalized do not involve simple cases of malversation of public funds, bribery, extortion, theft and graft but constitute plunder of an entire nation resulting in material damage to the national economy."

In this dark light, centralizing jueteng operations in Malacañang certainly qualifies as plunder.

Estrada himself took the court to task for issuing a "political" decision, saying he could not blame the justices because the Sandiganbayan's special division was "programmed to convict" him. A close reading of the decision on the plunder case, however, will show that--despite obvious pressure from both the Arroyo administration and from Estrada's political camp--the three members of the Sandiganbayan stuck scrupulously to the law's straight and narrow.

They acquitted the younger Estrada and the lawyer Ed Serapio because, in their assessment of the evidence, the prosecution failed to prove the case against the two co-accused beyond a reasonable doubt. They found that the Velarde account contained unimaginable wealth, but said the prosecution failed to prove the money was ill-gotten--except, that is, for P189 million, which they identified, beyond any doubt, as the commissions Estrada received from the purchase of Belle Corp. shares by the Social Security System and the Government Service Insurance System. The language of the decision reflects the quality of the reasoning: measured, assured, humane, just.

The Sandiganbayan's plunder decision reminds us again that, through the turmoil of the last seven lean years, beginning with Estrada's aborted impeachment trial in the Senate, the courts have played a leading role in holding our democracy together.

Closing the book

Closing the book

THE Sandiganbayan decision on the trial of former President Joseph Estrada closes a tumultuous chapter in our history. Whether President Arroyo offers Mr. Estrada a pardon or the Supreme Court sees fit to reverse the lower court’s ruling, we should be relieved to close the book on a very controversial case that took the court more than six years to make a judgment on.

The trial took a long time because both defense and prosecution laid claims to postponements and recesses in the interest of a fair trial. Both sides, but particularly the defense, took advantage of the legal dodges allowed by law. They were meticulous in their preparation and thorough in the court skirmishes. In the end, due process was observed. The trial upheld the rule of law.

It was a controversial case for many reasons. Mr. Estrada was not a 20-year dictator but a popularly elected president when he was thrown out of power. His defense in the impeachment trial never prospered because the prosecutors walked out abruptly over an unopened envelope. His own secretary of defense and his generals withheld critical support during the second Edsa revolt. When the Supreme Court validated his ouster and installed the vice president, the accusations against him took a powerful, inexorable force.

The case also had no precedent. Mr. Estrada had claimed innocence from the beginning but the government built a powerful argument against him. He claimed he was offered exile but he refused it. He would turn down a presidential pardon if offered because acceptance would imply guilt. Many Filipinos probably believe him, from the jobless and underemployed masa to the swarm of politicians he helped get elected in the May 14 elections.

The Sandigan cleared Sen. Jinggoy Estrada and the lawyer Eduardo Serapio. That should help console the former president. The lower court also said he could continue to stay in his comfortable home in Tanay. A motion for reconsideration before the Sandigan holds out some hope, even if slim. An appeal to the Supreme Court offers a lifeline.

The nation took the news with remarkable calm. Fears of a violent outrage came to nothing. Philippine share prices closed 1.21 percent higher Wednesday as investors discounted political instability after the court decision. Resignation in the opposition ranks seems to be the popular mood. Mr. Estrada urged his followers to stay calm. The administration said it could now focus on the task of strengthening peace and the economy with greater vigor.

What lessons have we learned? First, almost every Filipino is saying we should forswear “people power” as an alternative to bad government. Second, the Armed Forces of the Philippines, like the professional Civil Service, should uphold neutrality and independence on a grave constitutional issue. Third, the system is unfair because it allows the guilty to walk away from a crime. Finally, we learned that there is no sanctuary from misdeeds in the highest office of the land. The Estrada precedent will cast a lingering shadow on the political landscape for a very long time.

Judicious spending

Judicious spending

Now that a former president of the republic has been convicted of plunder, public officials may want to exercise more prudence in pushing projects with stiff price tags to be shouldered by Juan de la Cruz. One of the most controversial projects so far is the government’s deal with Chinese firm ZTE Corp. for a national broadband network, which will require taxpayers to repay a debt of $329 million. That is over 10 times higher than the amount that warranted the conviction of Joseph Estrada for plunder. From the signing of a document in connection with the project during the campaign period last April, the public has been kept in the dark about details of the broadband deal.

Now certain quarters are expressing similar concerns over another project, again involving information and communication technology. A study conducted by the Philippine Business for Education or PBED – a grouping of the country’s top industrialists and groups involved in improving the quality of education – raises questions about the cost of the Cyber Education project and even the necessity for it.

The CyberEd project, to be undertaken by the Department of Education, involves setting up multimedia classrooms in 37,794 of the more than 42,000 public schools around the country. Each special classroom will be equipped with two PCs, four television sets, a printer and an antenna, at a cost of P479,000 per room. The PBED noted that similar projects undertaken by private groups with the education department have considerably lower costs.

The country certainly needs to catch up with most of its neighbors in developing ICT competence especially among public school students. Even within the country, there is a wide disparity in ICT competence between the rich and poor, and the gap continues to grow. Children from affluent families get to play with computers almost as soon as there is no longer any danger that they will spill milk on the keyboard. Less fortunate children learn to use computers only in high school, and only on a limited basis.

Narrowing the knowledge gap, however, must be done with care, especially when huge amounts of public funds are involved. In a sector where every peso in the budget allotment is precious, the government cannot afford careless spending. Before another scandal erupts, the CyberEd project must be reviewed.

Lessons from Erap

Lessons from Erap

It took six years and four months, but it finally happened: a president deposed amid charges of corruption was convicted of plunder and sentenced to spend the rest of his life in prison. Where Filipinos failed in the case of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos, it succeeded with Joseph Estrada, who was also permanently barred from holding public office.

The ruling handed down by the Sandiganbayan yesterday cannot please everyone, and the political opposition is trying to give the verdict a political spin. Even before Estrada was arrested in late April 2001, however, many Filipinos were already convinced of his guilt, throwing him out of Malacañang amid his impeachment trial for large-scale corruption, and then replacing him with his constitutional successor. An indication of public sentiment regarding the case was the dismal turnout at the rally for Estrada yesterday near the Sandiganbayan. The peaceful response to the verdict buoyed the markets.

The fate that has befallen a man who won the presidency by the largest margin ever in this country should serve as a welcome warning that corruption does not pay. The message is valuable in a society where corruption is deeply rooted and where public office is not regarded as a public trust but rather as a sure path to personal wealth. The nation’s failure to make any of the Marcoses pay for the abuses of the martial law regime, including the “kleptocracy” of the so-called conjugal dictatorship, gave the impression that in this country, the small fry get caught while the big fish get away with everything.

Estrada is the biggest fish ever caught in the anti-graft net, and his conviction for massive corruption or plunder shows a nation’s determination to stamp out the scourge. Even if he continues to receive VIP treatment as a prisoner and eventually gets pardoned or paroled, he is being made to account for high crimes. A powerful message has been sent: the people are watching, and no one is above the law.

Erap vindication will come

Erap vindication will come

Joseph Estrada had resigned himself that he would be adjudged guilty even before the Sandiganbayan handed down its verdict yesterday. He said he did not expect justice under the Arroyo administration, and that his worry was the reaction of his supporters to his conviction.

Now Erap is back in his rest house in Tanay pending "further orders from the court." His supporters, stunned by the judgment, have gone home with bitterness and anger in their hearts. Nothing was heard of from Gloria, with her stand in, Press Secretary Ignacio Bunye, pontificating about how the administration has an economy to run and peace to be won.

The nation, in short, is back to where it was before judgment day, deeply riven by fault lines generated by the ouster of Estrada six years ago. The healing presidency promised by Gloria Arroyo has turned out to be more corrupt, more incompetent and more vicious in dealing with its perceived enemies.

The lines are becoming more sharply drawn. The expected review of the case by the Supreme Court may temporarily extend the prevailing uneasy calm. But the closure the nation is hoping for cannot be expected from this source.

As we earlier said it is Gloria, not Erap, who stands on the dock of history here. Despite his conviction and continued deprivation of liberty (being kept away from his friends, his family and his ailing mother is certainly not a vacation in a resort as his critics paint it to be), a defiant Erap is the real judge behind the scene from whom Gloria cannot escape judgment.

From Day One, Gloria wished that Erap had slithered away to foreign exile to legitimize her power grab. Erap, despite his well-known personal weaknesses, has proven to be a man of unbending principles. We would not be surprised if following the Supreme Court’s affirmation of the judgment, Gloria would dangle before him pardon for the "crimes" the Sandiganbayan found he had committed

The reality is, strangely enough, it is Erap who has all the time in the world to vindicate himself. In fact, he is at the moment as good as vindicated.

Edsa 2 is now widely seen as a grievous mistake for severely weakening the constitutional order. The Dionysian carousing of Erap while in the Palace is now seen as an authentic expression of his essential humanity in contrast to Gloria’s unfeeling, uncaring, mechanistic calculus of gains and losses (mostly gains for Gloria and her family; mostly losses for the rest).

In contrast, Gloria is due to exit in three years, with her reputation and her credibility in shreds. We don’t rule out redemption in her remaining three years. But we’re not holding our breath.

Judgment Day

Judgment Day

The long-awaited decision on the Estrada plunder case will be handed down Wednesday, and everybody is awaiting it with the proverbial bated breath. The accused, former President Joseph Estrada, has been having sleepless nights, and his situation has been aggravated by worry over the condition of his ailing 102-year-old mother. The nation just wants to have a closure to this highly divisive case.

Either way the case ends -- conviction or acquittal -- the government expects some civil disturbance to take place, and is preparing for it. The civil society groups that were largely responsible for Estrada’s fall from power in 2001 cannot see how the Sandiganbayan anti-graft court can return a verdict of not guilty when the damning evidence which were presented with crystal-clear clarity at the impeachment trial of the former president in the Senate were also the evidence presented at the court trial.

The defense contends that the prosecution has failed to prove that Estrada is guilty beyond reasonable doubt. But even some of the former president’s leading lawyers, like former senator Rene Saguisag, seem to be resigned to a guilty verdict. Saguisag said, “We don’t expect a lower court (the Sandiganbayan) to tell the Supreme Court that it is wrong.”

A verdict of not guilty could give rise to some complications, including the possibility of Estrada claiming the presidency back from Ms Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, although he has said he would not do that. The fact is that his unserved portion of the six-year presidential term has lapsed, and there is no way that he can turn back the hands of time.

A verdict of guilty could inflame the supporters of Estrada who still wields considerable political clout, and could spark a repeat of “EDSA 3,” the rising of the enraged masses who came to within inches of taking over Malacañang. The military and the police have said they are prepared for a similar eventuality on Wednesday.

Months before the scheduled promulgation of the decision, calls were made for the grant of pardon to Estrada in the event he is convicted. But Estrada himself has said he would not accept a pardon for that would practically mean an admission of guilt. He said he would appeal a possible decision of conviction to the Supreme Court.

A grant of presidential pardon that would be almost simultaneous with the handing down of a guilty verdict would send the wrong signal to the nation and the world. It would seem as if the government is not serious in punishing grafters and corrupt officials.

The best way to put a closure to Estrada plunder case is just to await the decision of the Sandiganbayan and to let justice and the rule of law take their course. Violence and extraordinary measures have no place in a democratic, civilized society.

Victorious

MANILA, Philippines -- They buried Luciano Pavarotti, the global opera superstar, on Saturday after a final, tear-stained standing ovation at somber funeral rites in his hometown of Modena, Italy. Death has stilled the live voice of one of the best tenors the world has ever known, but his recorded voice -- and his memory -- will live on for as long as recording devices work, and for as long as the world loves good music.

Superlatives have been used to describe Pavarotti, the best loved and most celebrated tenor since Caruso: “one of the world’s greatest voices,” “best-selling classical artist” (100 million records sold since the 1960s) and “an enormous crossover celebrity” whose appeal went far beyond the confines of classical opera. But more than a singer, Pavarotti was a humanitarian, a charismatic personality, a real human being.

Pavarotti took opera out of the stuffed-shirt confines of the opera houses of the elite, and by singing with such artists as Bono, Elton John and the Spice Girls brought opera to the masses and even the hiphop set. He captured a global audience for opera when he sang the aria “Nessun Dorma” (Nobody Sleeps) from Puccini’s “Turandot” for football’s 1990 World Cup finals. The highly successful “Three Tenors” concerts he had with Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras reached 1.5 billion people, and filled stadiums.

The last line of “Nessun Dorma” goes: “All’alba vincero” -- “At dawn I will be victorious.” Truly, Pavarotti has been victorious, his voice has conquered death, and he will be remembered for as long as the world loves good music.

Both sides guilty

Both sides guilty

IT’S BEEN THE BATTLE OF THE ICONS LEADING UP to today. Yesterday, a full-page ad, signed by society matrons who have been busy signing pro-administration manifestos since 2005, came out with another signed statement appealing to the public to respect the Sandiganbayan’s verdict. Their ad was plastered with pictures of Gaudencio Cardinal Rosales, former President Fidel V. Ramos and Sandiganbayan Presiding Justice Teresita de Castro.

The camp of former President Joseph Estrada did its share. The ex-President himself growled that he was prepared to endure imprisonment in Muntinlupa. Sen. Jinggoy Estrada speculated on an unfavorable verdict. The defendant’s camp certainly did its share of trying to condition the public mind, including applying for a series of rally permits.

Fortress Malacañang has been on pins and needles for weeks now, maneuvering both publicly and behind the scenes to diminish the impact of whatever verdict the Sandiganbayan hands down. On one hand, it has pulled out all the stops to project power. That projection ranges from the Presidential Security Group not only being in full battle gear for some time now, but its commander remaining in the Palace compound even when the President went abroad.

On the other hand, its efforts to project a sense of unassailable armed strength have been belied by its dangling a proposal for an amnesty. A proposal, we’ve pointed out in the past, that has been used for its own purposes by Estrada’s partisans, even though Estrada himself has gone through the motions of saying he’d refuse any pardon or amnesty offer.

The result has been a country—including the financial markets—nervously awaiting a verdict, while the Palace and Estrada’s people work to undercut both the actual verdict and its effects on the defendants. Both sides, it bears repeating, have thus tried to undercut the court. Just as they systematically tried to undercut the trial itself, including dragging it out, which delayed the delivery of justice but gave both sides additional room for political maneuvering. Central to both administration and Estrada loyalist thinking was projecting the case as a rallying point for the faithful, instead of acknowledging that the justice system represented the best way to secure the interests of the citizenry as a whole.

Ferdinand Marcos might have escaped the long arm of the law. His disgrace, however, raised the bar with regard to the accountability of all his successors. Before Marcos, there was no crime called plunder. Since 1991, plunder as a capital crime has become a Damocles’ sword hanging over the head of every president of the republic.

The two former presidents of South Korea, Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo, caused a sensation in Asia when they were convicted and imprisoned for acts committed during their terms. Both served only a year in jail, receiving a pardon from President Kim Dae-jung as an act of national reconciliation. The Philippines had a golden opportunity to match the symbolic impact of the conviction of two former presidents in a sister democracy. Sadly, today, our country has to confront the reality that for too many, the process has been so tainted as to deny the broader public a sense of satisfaction, whatever the verdict might be.

It will be premature to say anything concerning the verdict. We can only hope that the public will be pleasantly surprised by the Sandiganbayan decision. Just as the Supreme Court has managed to pull the nation back from the brink, despite the at times collective madness of the executive and legislative branches, so, too, may the Sandiganbayan amaze the public with a demonstration of the fearless and impartial application of the law.

If not, both prosecution and defense can still file an appeal before the Supreme Court. What the administration and opposition surely deserve censure for, even at this point, is how they both tried to turn what could have been an impartial trial into a never-ending series of opportunities to personalize, and thus politicize, the law. They will always be guilty of that.

Guilty or not guilty?

Guilty or not guilty?

That’s the question most Filipinos will be asking more intensely beginning today until the Sandiganbayan releases its verdict on the plunder case against Joseph Estrada, et. al., on Wednesday.

Not that we’ve not been asking ourselves that question since Estrada was first arraigned. It’s just that with the date of the decision being officially handed down just around the corner, the excitement – and the tension – is beginning to build.

And there are so many other factors present today that add up to the tension as well as to the drama.

Even the health condition of Estrada’s mother, Doña Mary Ejercito, has added to the emotions surrounding the coming announcement of the verdict. Somehow, I cannot escape the feeling of that her condition is some blessing in disguise should the verdict be unfavorable as that would always be a tough thing to bear for a mother. At the same time you can just imagine the difficulty that someone in Estrada’s shoes will have to face – a verdict on the one hand which could be unfavorable, plus the deteriorating health condition of your mother with whom you cannot always be.

The other day I tool a poll of friends, asking them what they would like the verdict to be as against what they think the verdict will be. With regard to the latter, the answer was an overwhelming "guilty", for almost the same reasons.

One, they argued that the Arroyo administration cannot afford a "not guilty" verdict as it will re-raise all the questions about the legitimacy of the transition in January of 2001, with some even insisting that a not guilty verdict should restore Erap to the presidency!

Some even said that a guilty verdict is all that the Arroyo government wants, to put a closure to Edsa 2, and provide it a golden opportunity to look magnanimous by offering a pardon or giving a grant of clemency.

A few others also take the tack that the Sandiganbayan wouldn’t dare to "overrule" the Supreme Court with a not guilty verdict – not that the highest court has directly ruled on the Erap case but that the upholding of the 2001 transition would be put into serious legal doubt if the graft court were to rule otherwise.

In fact I don’t even remember hearing anyone of my friends tell me that the ruling will be "not guilty".

On the first question, however, the opinion I gathered was evenly divided. I found most amusing, however, as well as most thought-provoking, the argument that the ruling will hopefully be "guilty" so that Gloria will realize that she is next!

As explained, the reasoning goes like this: A guilty verdict on Estrada should send a clear signal to one and all that even presidents have to go to jail for the criminal offenses they commit. What is true for Estrada should be true for Marcos, as well as Aquino, for Ramos as well as for Gloria – of course with the only exception where the legal period within which to bring a case against any of the former p[residents for a criminal offense has since expired.

This is not the case for Gloria, though, as people are waiting for her term to expire in 2010 – or for her to leave public office whether this be before or after 2010, so that proper charges could be leveled against her. An Estrada conviction will set that all-important precedent of a president on the dock, and a number of my friends see this as one of the silver linings of an Estrada conviction.

Erap today, Gloria tomorrow.

I suppose I am like most Filipinos. I am watching the drama unfold with bated breath, knowing that there is far more an impact on our society than just the here and now and the question whether a former president will walk or will remain in jail.

I agree with a newspaper ad the other day that the decision, hopefully, will be a matter of pure application of law on facts, but at the same time I sense that this being the Philippines such will remain an ideal for years to come.

But I do yearn for the time when the law is applied even to presidents and kings, where a president can go to jail for lying, stealing or cheating the same way that a working man can; where theft is theft whether it be for P1,000 or for P1 billion; where a crime is a crime whether it is a Cabinet secretary who commits it or an office secretary.

Will the Estrada decision be the first step in the right direction? Hopefully it will, and in the process take the sting out from the judgment. Because more than the guilt or innocence of Estrada, what is at stake is the process of restoring the rule of law to a country where the high and the mighty benefit from a different interpretation and execution of such rule of law.

Guilty or not guilty? Erap is not the only one on trial here. So is Gloria. So are all of us.

Let’s see who gets justice in the end.

Cop-out

Cop-out

The police have changed tack on the Jonas Burgos mystery, and unfortunately for the missing activist and all those who hope to see his abductors brought to justice, the police have moved in the direction first tracked by the military. Now the police see communist rebels, and only communist rebels, as responsible for the crime.

We have serious reservations about the new witnesses presented by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), however. Many of these concern the implausibility of the military’s claims, but the most significant doubts arise from what went before these witnesses were presented.

Military sources that journalists have relied on for years have sworn that a unit of either the Intelligence Service of the AFP or of the 56th Infantry Battalion based in Bulacan were involved in the abduction. A state prosecutor has asserted that six soldiers were behind the disappearance, a claim that earned him the justice secretary’s displeasure. And ever since Burgos was forcibly seized in a mall last April, the leadership of the AFP has acted in a less-than-forthright, suspicion-inducing manner: stonewalling, finding excuses not to appear before the courts, refusing to turn over the results of internal investigations.

For these and other reasons, we find the military’s most recent version of events suspect. Unfortunately, the police now share that interpretation. And they have brought to it their own worst practices.

Let us, using the most recent statements of Senior Supt. Joel Coronel of the Criminal Investigation Detection Group, consider only two of these fatal flaws.

First, an almost total dependence on eyewitness testimony.

Coronel is well within his rights to judge the testimony of Emerito Lipio, a member of the New People’s Army, as providing the most “logical and coherent” picture of the Burgos abduction. That is his lookout. But his complete reliance on Lipio’s belated testimony illustrates the weakness of many, if not most, of the cases our police officers investigate.

They are, most of them, based on the say-so of someone or other. For that very reason, many of them do not prosper in court—the testimonies are eminently recantable.

To be sure, in the Burgos disappearance, Coronel speaks of a pattern he sees in the testimony of other witnesses. “[Lipio’s] statements are consistent with what other witnesses have told us before.”

But his case, as he makes it, depends entirely on these witnesses. He excludes such evidence as the license plates of the Toyota Revo used in abducting Burgos from the mall, which have been traced back to the impounding area inside the headquarters of the 56 IB in Norzagaray, Bulacan. (Why? They, too, were pointed out by eyewitnesses.)

This brings us to the second worst practice. Coronel’s statements remind us, yet again, that the police sometimes have the habit of disregarding the evidence that is right before their eyes.

Coronel, for example, said he found the alleged connection between the controversial license plates and military involvement in the Burgos abduction “really puzzling.”

Now that’s a puzzlement. By any reasonable standard, the fact -- and it’s a fact -- that the plates on an abductor’s vehicle were traced back to a battalion HQ should be considered to mean that a prima facie case does exist to investigate the possible involvement of battalion officers or men in the abduction.

Unfortunately, it would take enormous self-confidence and political will on the part of the police to say that. Thus, the cop-out: Police officers who now choose to give credence only to those witnesses whose testimony favors the military.

Bad posture

Bad posture

Posturing, with regard to the coming verdict on the plunder trial of former President Joseph Estrada, is the name of the game. In this game, neither the opposition nor the administration is innocent. In the non-stop rumor mill that is the Philippine political scene, not only is a looming verdict widely whispered about, but the anti-graft court Sandiganbayan is supposed to be finding difficulty wrestling with the complexities of the case. What is sure is that the coming verdicts (there are multiple charges, after all) have political circles caught up in a kind of mass hysteria.

The result is saber-rattling on both sides, literally on the part of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) and rhetorically on the side of Estrada’s partisans. The AFP has held parades to show off the troops, while the Philippine National Police has pledged to mobilize enough policemen for crowd control. Malacañang has launched a propaganda offensive to condition the public into expecting trouble, which the Arroyo administration says it can handle. Estrada loyalists have reacted by proclaiming they can muster crowds and that these crowds would be big and angry.

As if such posturing weren’t enough, the Palace and opposition leaders have also taken to working at cross-purposes with Estrada himself. For months, the idea of either a presidential pardon or an amnesty proclamation ratified by Congress, in case of a conviction by the court, has been floated. Administration allies went through the motions of proposing it, and the Palace has also gone through the motions of considering it. The opposition has tacitly endorsed the idea by releasing the results of surveys it commissioned.

However, Estrada himself, whether merely in an act of political theater or because he genuinely believes in his innocence, has insisted that he will never accept a pardon. He may be in detention, but he remains a political virtuoso.

On the surface, it may seem appropriate for the Palace and the opposition to publicly consider options for Estrada after the verdicts have been handed down. Considerations of a pardon or amnesty, after all, mean politics only begins where justice ends in terms of a verdict. It would be a great error, however, for the public to think that all the posturing is par for the course. It is not. The administration and opposition both obviously think they have an insight into the eventual decisions of the court. More than that, both are actively trying to influence the court.

Left to its own devices, the court would have wrapped up the Estrada trial and proceeded with its deliberations and handed down its verdicts at its own pace and in its own good time. The public, used to Estrada’s long period of comfortable detention, would probably have shrugged off the whole thing, including the verdicts. The Palace, however, began to sound the alarm with regard to the reactions of Estrada partisans. The alarmed nature of the Palace’s reactions in turn inspired new heights of rhetorical bravado on the part of Estrada loyalists.

Sounding the alarm is a tried-and-tested administration tactic to hijack the headlines. The opposition is also an old pro at playing that game, hence its commissioned survey. Both sides are always looking for ways to reinvigorate the dedication of their supporters, while weakening the resolve of their enemies. Obviously, considerations of fair play and justice are irrelevant in the face of such tactical concerns.

The Palace is trying to reassure the Sandiganbayan that there won’t be chaos in case of guilty verdicts. The opposition is trying to frighten the Sandiganbayan into thinking there would be a revolt if it convicts Estrada. Both sides are trying to temper whatever verdicts are in the works, by emphasizing the verdicts they’d prefer (and options, including conviction for some charges and possibly, acquittal for others) and verdicts the public allegedly wouldn’t like.

In other words, the administration and the opposition are trying to turn the case into a political football and to strong-arm the court. By doing so, both sides are further eroding public confidence in the justice system. They are doing a disservice not to Estrada, who is a player in this two-sided game, but to the citizenry.

Sadists

Sadists

If his son has not been involved in homicide, it would be better for Francisco Cruz, a physician of the Veterans Memorial Medical Center, to surface — preferably with his son — and shed light on the death of Cris Anthony Mendez. The 20-year-old public administration student of the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City died of injuries from a severe beating over a week ago apparently during a fraternity hazing.

A VMMC security guard identified Cruz as the person who, together with his son, brought Mendez to the hospital early in the morning of Aug. 27 in a Toyota Innova with government license plates SAB-393. Three other vehicles arrived later. Were the passengers members of the Sigma Rho fraternity, which Mendez was reportedly trying to join? The guard was not sure if Mendez was still alive when rushed to the emergency ward.

With so many details available to investigators, perhaps it would be easier to obtain justice for Mendez. Hazing has persisted because fraternities in this country have a twisted concept of brotherhood. Older members who occupy prominent positions in government and the private sector cover up crimes, from misdemeanors to heinous ones, committed by younger fraternity brothers. The judge who convicted members of the Aquila Legis law fraternity for the hazing death of Lenny Villa, for example, has curiously run into a lot of legal troubles. There is little effort among senior fraternity members to put a stop to hazing. Having experienced painful initiation rites, the older members apparently want applicants to undergo the same suffering.

What do these violent, degrading initiation rites promote? It cannot possibly be fraternity. Such rites give full rein to every fraternity member’s inner sadist, with violence inflicted in the cowardice of anonymity. It is tempting to compare this Neanderthal behavior with those of animals, but it would be unfair to the beasts, which kill only for food or in self-defense and never for sadistic fun. If Doctor Cruz and his son are not parties to such inhuman behavior, they should face investigators.

30 years to resolve a case

30 years to resolve a case

The crime was committed in 1977. Thirty years later, the Supreme Court has issued a final ruling upholding the guilty verdict on two civil engineers of what was then the Ministry of Public Works. Simeon Fernan Jr. and Expedito Torrevillas were found guilty of falsifying documents for the disbursement of P86 million meant for roadwork in Cebu. It took 20 years before the two were convicted by the Sandiganbayan, and another 10 years before the Supreme Court upheld the ruling.

The nation should probably count its blessings; at least there were convictions in this case. Ferdinand Marcos died before anything could be pinned on him with certainty. If he were alive today, he would likely be as fully rehabilitated as his heirs, never spending even a minute behind bars, and possibly considering another run for the presidency.

The slow pace of justice in the Cebu civil engineers’ case is just the latest example of the difficulty of stamping out corruption. Seeing the corrupt go unpunished is the best incentive for others to commit similar crimes. Thirty years is a long time; evidence and witnesses can disappear, plaintiffs can die without seeing justice done, and dirty money can be laundered to buy respect for a corrupt official’s family.

Swift justice cannot be guaranteed even for someone like deposed President Joseph Estrada, who has been languishing under “rest house arrest” for most of the six years that he has been held without bail for plunder. If ever Estrada is acquitted, those six years would be seen as a grave injustice.

It has been said often enough that justice delayed is justice denied. This is true both for the guilty and the innocent, and both for the plaintiff and defendant. The slow pace has encouraged many Filipinos to simply turn to murder to settle scores or else join rebel movements that can guarantee swift justice. The slow pace also hinders efforts to stamp out corruption. If it takes 30 years to determine the guilt of the corrupt with finality, potential complainants and witnesses are likely to think it’s not worth the effort.

Foot-dragging

Foot-dragging

Last Thursday, officials of the Presidential Anti-Graft Commission expressed frustration over the slow pace of the Office of the President in acting on 90 cases filed by the commission. The following day, Malacañang denied that it was sitting on 90 cases; it said that only 35 cases were pending. It said that four Cabinet officials had been recommended for punishment.

But even if the actual total is 35, that’s still 35 unresolved cases too many. Only two officials have been dismissed so far: National Labor Relations Commission Chair Victoriano Calaycay and Dominador Ferrer Jr., chief of the Intramuros Administration. Calaycay was sacked for allegedly demanding P200,000 from a recruitment agency that he was helping to obtain a license from the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration. The PAGC found Ferrer liable for an unliquidated P2.2-million cash advance used for the eviction of squatters.

The Calaycay and Ferrer cases are relatively petty cases when you compare them with high-profile cases that are still pending up to now. These include the plunder case against former President Joseph Estrada, the P1.3-billion poll automation contract of the Commission on Elections that was nullified by the Supreme Court, the P728-million fertilizer fund scam involving former Agriculture Undersecretary Jocelyn “Joc-Joc" Bolante and the $2-million bribery charge against former Justice Secretary Hernando Perez. And now there is that $329-million broadband agreement between the Department of Transportation and Communication and an allegedly notorious Chinese company.

Cases like those mentioned above were among those that probably led 1,476 expatriate businessmen in Asia to give the Philippines the worst rating of 9.4 (out of a possible 10 for the worst) in the poll conducted by the Hong Kong-based Political and Economic Risk Consultancy last March. Based on the summary given by PERC, Agence France Presse wrote a story saying that “foreign businessmen perceive[d] the Philippines to be the most corrupt economy among 13 countries and territories across Asia." Two months later, PERC said it did not single out the Philippines as the most corrupt country in Asia.

But the perception remains, and now the Philippines has the dubious distinction of being one of the most corrupt countries in Asia. If this perception remains, one of the major causes is probably the snail’s pace at which major corruption cases are being resolved. For instance, no Cabinet or Cabinet-level official has so far been penalized, although four such officials have been recommended “for punitive action," according to the PAGC.

The corruption trial of Estrada has been dragging on for more than six years. Recently, when it was disclosed that a decision could be expected in two months, fear was expressed in official circles that whichever way the decision went, there would be tumult and disorder all over the land. Fear of disorder should not be used as a basis for deciding a corruption case. The primary considerations should be: (1) Is there enough evidence to convict the accused? (2) Will the decision do justice to both the accused and the people against whom the wrong was allegedly committed?

In its report, PERC said that the corruption situation in the Philippines “is bad and has been bad all along. People are just growing tired of the inaction and insincerity of leading officials when they promise to fight corruption." Robert Broadfoot, PERC managing director, cited specifically the unresolved corruption case of Estrada and the opposition’s [corruption and electoral fraud] charges against President Arroyo."

The lack of closure in the high-profile cases, among other things, is what fuels the perception that the present administration is insincere in its protestations that it is determined to stamp out corruption. Broadfoot said credible corruption trials could convince businessmen that the Philippines is serious about fighting corruption.

President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo could begin setting the house in order by agreeing to the setting up of an independent commission composed of private individuals of unimpeachable integrity that will resolve, once and for all, the corruption and electoral fraud charges against her and by ordering the quick resolution of major cases on which the administration has been dragging its feet. A government cannot fight corruption with flowery, illusive rhetoric.

Confidence building

Confidence building

In putting an end to unexplained killings and disappearances, the buck stops with the president and commander-in-chief. This was pointed out during the recent multisectoral summit on extrajudicial killings, by the United Nations’ rapporteur on human rights, and by other sectors worried over the continuing deadly attacks on left-wing militants and journalists.

The commander-in-chief can show that she’s in command of her troops by ordering the military to come clean on the disappearance of activist Jonas Burgos, son of the late press freedom fighter Jose Burgos. Instead the government refuses to release even a report on the license plates used in the getaway van of the armed men who kidnapped Burgos at noon last April 28 from a crowded mall in Quezon City. The plates were later found on another vehicle at the camp of the Army’s 56th Infantry Battalion in Norzagaray, Bulacan. The vehicle was reportedly impounded from illegal loggers by the Department of Environment and Natural Resources and the 56th IB.

Bulacan accounts for one of the highest cases of militants killed or reported missing in what relatives say were enforced disappearances. It is part of the region that used to be under the command of Maj. Gen. Jovito Palparan, tagged as a “butcher” by militants. But military officials in Central Luzon as well as in other regions have consistently denied involvement in extrajudicial killings, insisting that most of the purported victims were slain in legitimate counter-insurgency operations.

The government is not the only one to blame for the failure to ferret out the truth. Verifying the military’s version of what is happening has been complicated by the refusal of left-wing groups and relatives of alleged victims of state-sponsored killings and disappearances to cooperate with authorities in any investigation. But the refusal to cooperate is also rooted in a mistrust that is not entirely misplaced, given the military’s long history of human rights violations in the campaign against the communist insurgency. Gaining that trust and cooperation will require some confidence-building gestures on the part of the government. Coming clean on the case of Jonas Burgos would be a good start.

Purge or whitewash?

Purge or whitewash?

Corrupt officials crowd the corridors of power, but Malacañang is reluctant to send them to jail or even to just let them go. The Presidential Anti-Graft Commission (PAGC) found sufficient evidence of graft and corruption against 92 presidential appointees over the last few years, but the really big cases seem to be gathering dust in the Office of the President (OP). The PAGC serves as the investigation arm of Malacañang in graft cases involving presidential appointees, but it is the OP that decides whether to suspend or dismiss erring officials and endorse the filing of charges against them to the Office of the Ombudsman.

Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita said the OP had disposed of all but 35 of those cases, with four of the remaining cases involving members of the Cabinet, and had until the middle of September to act on them. The two most recent OP decisions saw the dismissal of the chair of the National Labor Relations Commission for allegedly extorting P200,000 from the owner of a recruitment agency and the firing of the head of the Intramuros Administration for allegedly failing to liquidate P2.2 million in cash advances to cover the expenses for the eviction of squatters and cutting by half his agency’s share of parking fees estimated to reach almost P6 million annually.

Curiously for an administration that is not exactly publicity shy, few people, if any, seem to have heard about the dozens of graft cases that Malacañang has reviewed and acted upon, except for these two cases. And even then, these are far from earthshaking in an era of multimillion-peso scandals, when even minor functionaries at the Bureau of Customs or the Bureau of Internal Revenue have been found to own houses in posh villages and fleets of expensive cars and to travel abroad as often as senators and congressmen. It’s either that the OP has been conducting a quiet purge of penny-ante grafters or it has been operating a giant whitewashing machine that puts all the PAGC’s efforts to waste.

Suspecting that the OP is stonewalling the really big cases, several lawyers in the PAGC are said to be thinking of resigning. What is especially frustrating for them is the OP’s inaction on cases involving heads of government corporations, who are said to be close to First Gentleman Mike Arroyo.

But maybe these lawyers are getting carried away by their idealism. The cynics would be quick to point out that to this day no case has been filed against another close friend of Mr. Arroyo, former Agriculture Undersecretary Jocelyn Bolante, who could not account for some P728 million in fertilizer funds. The Senate has investigated the case and the Commission on Audit has concluded that the money was indeed misused. However, despite all the documentary evidence provided by the Senate, the Office of the Ombudsman still has not brought formal charges against Bolante, who has skipped to the United States in the meantime. So what makes the PAGC lawyers think that the cases they have built against officials with powerful connections would fare any better and get anywhere?

The PAGC was reportedly endowed with a P1-billion grant from the United States and allocated the same amount by the Philippine government. If the most that it is permitted to do is pin down officials who extort P200,000 or fail to account for a couple of millions in government funds, it might as well be dismantled. There’s no sense in throwing away billions to catch officials who steal a couple of million pesos. The PAGC should not be used as a show window for a cleanup that is really intended to sweep the dirtiest scams under the rug.

Impossible dream?

Impossible dream?

Justice was ill-served when retired Chief Justice Andres Narvasa said the book on the assassination of former Sen. Benigno Aquino Jr. should be closed. Narvasa said the commission on which he had worked -- at times to the extent that it irked the dictator Ferdinand Marcos -- had already unearthed the truth or come as close to it as is humanly possible. That truth resulted in the conviction of some soldiers, but it never revealed who the mastermind was behind Ninoy’s killing. No point in further trying to find out, Narvasa said.

Narvasa recalled that “the burning question at that time was whether it was President Marcos or the First Lady [Imelda Marcos]” who ordered the killing. He even recalled public suspicions concerning the alleged involvement of businessman Eduardo M. Cojuangco Jr. in the murder. That question burns still. But Narvasa said, “I have to be frank. There was no evidence pointing either way… There was no direct evidence. They remained speculations.”

Today, even former President Corazon Aquino has publicly stated she wouldn’t oppose executive clemency for the soldiers who have been convicted for the crime and who remain in jail. They were the only ones caught in the net of justice during her presidency. The late dictator himself died abroad and never ended up being deposed in court or properly investigated about the assassination. Gen. Fabian Ver, too, avoided the long arm of the law until the day he died.

And by 1992, the restoration of the disgraced and dispossessed leaders of the New Society had well and truly begun. It will be recalled that had Imelda Marcos and Cojuangco combined their forces, their combined votes would have defeated all other contenders for the presidency. As it was, their individual votes were remarkable and politically formidable. In a sense, it paved the way for the defeat of the Edsa People Power I political forces with the election of an unrepentant Marcos loyalist, Joseph Estrada, to the vice presidency in 1992 and to the presidency in 1998.

We forget, too, the circumstances surrounding Ninoy Aquino’s return home. Imelda Marcos had gone to see him. She issued a warning: there were people loyal to them and whom they could not control and they might kill him. She offered him financial inducements not to go home. He refused the offer.

And yet today Narvasa maintains, “Doña Imelda, I don’t think was deeply involved ... in such a dreadful thing. Maybe [she knows something] because she’s the President’s wife, she could not have been excluded from conversations by President Marcos.” The record tells us the “something” she knew at the time was quite specific; and that her concern for Aquino could have been feigned. This certainly deserves further investigation, precisely because the dictator is dead.

Explaining his decision to come home, Aquino told his friends: “When we start to feel the pain of those who have been victimized by tyranny, it’s only then we can liberate ourselves… The feeling right now is, ‘Fred was tortured, thank God it’s Fred, not me.’ That’s the tragic part. Society is atomized. Until the Filipino nation can feel the loss of one life as if it was their own, we’ll never liberate ourselves.”

Liberate ourselves we did; the rallying cry of those days was, “Justice for Aquino, Justice for All.” It included demands for his killers to be exposed. That demand has only partially been fulfilled. Now Narvasa, who once zealously sought the truth, whatever the cost, thinks it’s time to declare the quest ultimately defeated.

Were we to adopt Narvasa’s suggestion, the ultimate lesson here would be the ultimate victory of the dictator’s attitude toward the law: that style matters more than substance. Narvasa said the Narvasa Commission did its work, it filed its report and now the case “is finished, functius oficio.” The paperwork may be done, but the case remains ultimately unresolved.

Ferdinand is dead, Imelda lives. Ver is dead, Cojuangco lives. At worst, half of the main suspects do not only remain alive, they are living within our shores instead of in exile. To borrow a thought from Ninoy, so long as his murder remains unsolved, until the public feels that the case has been pursued to its ultimate end, what hope is there that the ever-multiplying cases of political assassinations since then will ever be resolved, too?

The possible dream

The possible dream

Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. ignored warnings, one of them from Imelda Marcos herself, that there were threats to his life if ever he returned to Manila. The former senator saw his beloved nation teetering on the brink of ruin under the Marcos dictatorship, and he wanted to do what he could to set things right. People called him Quixotic, dreaming of the impossible, suffering from boredom in exile. Aquino ignored the warnings and headed to his death, 24 years ago today.

In three years his dream of freedom for his country was realized, made possible by the outpouring of public grief and rage over his assassination. In a rare show of unity, Filipinos gathered at EDSA for four days in February 1986, refusing to leave unless Ferdinand Marcos stepped down. Ninoy Aquino’s impossible dream became reality: the dictatorship collapsed and Filipinos relished their hard-won freedom.

But it was just the first step in the tortuous path to a strong democracy. Today little has changed in the culture that allowed someone like Ferdinand Marcos to remain in power for so long. More weight is given to civic entitlements rather than responsibilities. Always, individual satisfaction is placed ahead of national interest.

People power, as we have learned in the past two decades, is no cure-all for the many ills afflicting Philippine society. There is no magic wand that will bring national prosperity. A popular revolt needs to be followed with hard work to strengthen democratic institutions. In a culture where corruption is endemic and there is infinite tolerance for wasteful inefficiency, extra effort is needed to promote good government, public accountability and the rule of law. Ninoy Aquino’s death led to the realization of a part of his dream. The rest of the dream can still be turned into reality.

Remembering Ninoy Aquino

Remembering Ninoy Aquino

Meeting in San Francisco to form a new alliance of antimartial law groups from across North America, we received the news that the former senator was assassinated at the Manila International Airport. Talks were suspended for a while to enable everyone to listen to the media broadcasts. My wife called from Montreal to say that Canadian reporters were already asking about the reactions of the Filipino community.

Since his arrival in the US in 1980 Ninoy had become the leading traditional opposition leader—overshadowing Raul Manglapus who was then head of the Movement for a Free Philippines (MFP). Sonny Alvarez used to act as right hand man of Manglapus; this time he was accompanying Aquino around in his speaking tours. Ninoy with his audacity and eloquence readily won the support of the Filipino expatriates who previously thought only of making a life in the US and gave if at all cavalier assistance to antimartial law groups.

The new alliance formed in San Francisco was independent of the MFP and other groups identified with premartial law political leaders like Manglapus, Alvarez, Raul Daza, Serge Osmeña and oligarchs like the Lopezes—whom pro-Marcos Teodoro Valencia called “steak commandos.” There was bound to be ideological differences between antimartial law groups. The tags “libdems,” “socdems” and “natdems” were not that well defined or understood at the time. But alliances and coalitions were formed. Ninoy seemed open to meeting all groups.

We saw the crucial role of Ninoy in reaching out to the once apathetic Filipino expats in North America. He really had a gift—the gift of gab that can move crowds and the mass. His death roused even those in the community who thought it was an honor to have as guests Philippine embassy people in their June 12 celebrations. Everyone saw a turning point in the struggle against the dictatorship, and the beginning of the end of Marcos’s rule.

It was in a Toronto hotel in 1982 when I was introduced by “brod” Ruben Cusipag (one of the journalists jailed by Marcos) to a wan-looking person lounging at the hotel lobby. Ruben didn’t mention our names, and for a moment Ninoy’s eyes and mine locked. Just about the same time, we blurted, “brod!” Ninoy and I belonged to the same batch (’50) of the oldest frat in UP.

I gave Ninoy a batch of publications including accounts of war in the countryside. While waiting for his turn during the forum, he read avidly the “subversive” publications. That was the last time I saw him.

Back in the 50s he was a staff member of the Philippine Collegian which I then edited. When the Korean War broke out, he was sent by The Manila Times as a war correspondent. He was not quite 18 at the time, but endeared himself to the soldiers of the 10th BCT (battalion combat team) by writing about them in a personal way in his dispatches. In one of his furloughs we asked him to send us special reports for the Collegian. This he did at least twice, and the Collegian became the only student paper with a war correspondent.

I would see him again a few years later (1954) at The Manila Times as a fellow staffer, and I couldn’t quite get over seeing him one evening stride to the city room with a holstered pistol at his side a la Gary Cooper in High Noon. He had just come from his meeting with Huk leader Luis Taruc who surrendered to President Magsaysay’s emissary. Why the side arm? You can never tell, he said. He later toured and wrote about Southeast Asia and was said to have met with the CIA during the Sumatran revolt in Indonesia. His detractors said he was a CIA agent. I remember Ninoy saying he had dealings with the CIA but did not work for them.

He became more of a public figure when he entered politics, first as town mayor, then governor of Tarlac, and later senator of the republic. As governor, he invited a UP group headed by Dr. Ricardo Pascual to set up a UP college in his province, and showed us the old capitol building as possible campus site. The UP branch was set up in the sixties, functioned for a while, and ultimately gave way to another state college or university.

In his public life as senator Ninoy was unstoppable in his quest for the presidency. In a frat alumni meeting held at Wack Wack with the Laurels, President Marcos and his nemesis Ninoy Aquino, both brods, were brought together to smoke the peace pipe as it were. But this did not stop Ninoy in the Senate from delivering his scathing speeches about the Marcos administration. Marcos had his turn during martial law and, after seven years of detaining Ninoy, banished his brod to the US. The frat was divided into pros and antis.

His audacious return to the Philippines under the name of Marcial Bonifacio (in a passport issued by a brod in Taipei), we all thought, was in character—from the time he would ride along in a US bomber raiding enemy positions near the Yalu on the Korean-Chinese border, to his adventures in Indonesia affairs or in Huk-controlled Central Luzon, his relentless attacks on the Marcos regime, enduring seven years of prison and going on a hunger strike, to that moment of truth when he left his family in the US and finally boarded the plane from Taipeh back to the Philippines.

His death or his martyrdom is still shrouded with mystery (and so is the death of his brod, Col. Baltazar Aguirre, killed in his car rammed by a truck reportedly owned by a military intelligence chief; the colonel was said to have a line to Ninoy). When will it all be known?

But as what Ninoy would have quoted, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” I remember this quote from one of his dispatches on the Korean War.

JdV’s amnesty worth studying

JdV’s amnesty worth studying

When it comes to generating big ideas, few can beat Speaker Jose de Venecia. It was JdV who first proposed face-to-face talks with National Democratic Front during the Ramos term. In the Cory administration, he initiated diplomatic contacts with Pyongyang, a taboo idea at that time.

Is JdV a leftist? Not at all. If we subject the Pangasinan lawmaker to an ideology test, he would probably be sitting on the left side of the Klu Klux Klan. But in day-to-day politics, he is a pragmatist. “Kung anong kailangan ng bayan at sitwasyon—OK siya.” He is the type who can talk with US President Bush now and then deal with Kim Jong Il tomorrow.

An example of his flexibility is his proposal to grant amnesty to the political enemies of the state and critics of President GMA. Probably, it is his way to finding ways to ease the burden on the government. He thinks that with the grant of amnesty, the administration would be able to acquire a breathing spell up to 2010.

I am just surprised why JdV chose to announce the amnesty proposal without the benefit of discussions within the National Security Council. The NSC is the body to discuss a big policy change such as amnesty. I could only suspect that JdV prefers a prior public discussion on the issue before it is discussed with the cabinet.

Perhaps, he wanted to float the idea first to test the opinion of the military, the civilian leaders, the NGOs and the international community. If that was his intention, he had succeeded in drawing Senators Joker Arroyo and Miriam D. Santiago to the debate. Both senators are allies of the President.

In truth, JdV’s idea carries no details. Remember that on the matter of amnesty, its knots and bolts are very important. For instance, JdV should first clarify if the amnesty he is giving (a) is automatically granted or (b) should be based on a hearing. Clarification of this issue is needed for credibility of any future presidential proclamation on amnesty.

By way of a background, after World War 2, the government issued an amnesty to all those suspected of collaborating with the Japanese invaders. That kind of amnesty, which eventually freed former President Jose P. Laurel and Sen. Claro M. Recto, was an automatic type of amnesty.

The amnesty proclamation, declared by President Roxas, did not require the two leaders to argue why they deserved to be amnestied. By definition, all suspected collaborators were amnestied. In fairness to Recto, it should be said that the Batangas leader Recto opposed the amnesty as he wanted to be given the opportunity to argue before the courts. But this option was not possible under that kind of amnesty.

In the case of President Marcos, he had many amnesty decrees directed to members of the Communist Party and the MNLF. But as the late Sen. Lorenzo Tañada (lawyer for many political prisoners) observed, these amnesties failed because rebels were required to go through the humiliating process of application and hearing. The WW II amnesty was successful because no questions were asked of the beneficiaries.

Speaker Jose de Venecia should specify in his proposal the kind of amnesty he wants the Arroyo government to carry out. Otherwise, the targets of these policies would reject his idea.

Senate coalition holding on

It looks like Senate President Manny Villar has found the secret in managing the current crop of senators—a collection of proud men and women who all believe they can become President of the Republic.

I think Manny was able to find and work on the weakness of everyone. At the moment, each one has found a modus vivendi with the other. In the words of Sen. Chiz Escudero who spoke at The Manila Times roundtable: “We need to be good to each other because the Senate hall is very small. Palagi kaming nagkikita, unlike in the House.”

Sen. Jinggoy Estrada, a member of the opposition, and administration Sen. Joker Arroyo are now on one side. So are Miriam D. Santiago (admin) and Alan Peter Cayetano (opposition). How does Manny manage the nine-person administration group, Miriam, Enrile, Lapid, Revilla, Honasan, Angara, Arroyo, Zubiri, Gordon?

And the group of independents, Pia and Alan Cayetano, Estrada, Escudero, Panglinan? And the so-called Solid Seven oppositionists, Lacson, Pimentel, Madrigal, Biazon, Roxas, Aquino, Trillanes?.

In the end, it is all a matter of responding to the political needs of everyone. And it seems Villar has been able to master the art of consensus since he headed the House during the Estrada term.