Too Bad, My Miriam Is Not Forever

The political ashfall thickens and we are looking for a savior, but none so far is on the horizon.

It was supposed to be a night like no other night for Miriam Defensor Santiago (MDS), the night she was to immerse above all the other presidential aspirants. Like millions of Filipinos on that day, I too sat in wide-eyed lumps before my television set hoping to watch, who, among them could draw Excalibur faster from its scabbard than Miriam Defensor Santiago can. Or so I thought. Or so I remembered. As all have witnessed, last Sunday’s performance was MDS record low.

As an aficionado, I was pained to watch her riposte even the simplest questions which she could have easily waded off during her healthier years. In so many occasions, her voice was weak, with little hoarseness in it. I felt her words exiting in crutches which naturally force a look-see of her faltering health. Ah, if only this were 1992, young MDS could have walloped them with her sharp and staccato delivery, with her wit that cuts through and through that could hit right at little Grace's messianic jugular.

Unfortunately, MDS could not turn the political clock back. The “Miriam Phenomenon” that had once mesmerized a groping nation is all in the past now and all she needs now is a miracle, a major miracle, not only to get back to the days when she was in tip-top shape to mount a nationwide campaign, but also to run the government, in case.

True that there is no law that disqualifies a candidate for public office on the sole reason of health, and here in MDS’ case, to have been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer but MDS’ medical condition calls for a deeper concern –that which puts the country at great risk. If a candidate with serious health issues gets elected as president and eventually fell ill to the point that he/she can no longer effectively carry out the functions of the office, what is there to do? Well, if the president’s health fails, the Constitution mandates that the system can fall back on the “spare tire,” the vice president. The dilemma actually lies not in the eventual deterioration or demise of the president but of the kind of “spare tire” we have. What happens when the vice president is not exactly what you would want for president?

A concerned citizen once demanded MDS to publicly disclose her medical records which could have been her opportunity to dispel any doubts about her illness. And yet to this day, MDS refuses to take the challenge head on. Instead, she reiterated her claim that she is completely free from cancer and that she is well within her rights not to disclose her medical records for this would violate her right to privacy. She is a renowned constitutionalist alright, but I beg to disagree. I submit, however, that a citizen running for public office, especially a presidential aspirant of her stature, cannot hide behind the permissible ‘zones of privacy’ when grave health issues are concerned. Necessarily, when a person offers himself before the electorate as a candidate, everything that concerns his fitness to govern, whether moral, physical or mental, becomes a matter of public interest. In any case, as lawyers would say, MDS is deemed to have waived her right to privacy since day one.

Culled from the Marcos experience, a unique provision under the 1987 Constitution explains the dynamics of governance during a president’s illness. The Constitution says: “In case of serious illness of the President, the public shall be informed of the state of his health. The members of the Cabinet in charge of national security and foreign relations and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, shall not be denied access to the President during such illness."

Now, if this provision ought to solve the danger of a power vacuum in the executive department during a president’s illness, the more reason we must apply the principle of transparency for future presidents, MDS included. Indeed, by safeguarding the health of potential presidents early on, a foreseeable crisis can be avoided or at the very least, tempered. Of course, MDS is not yet president, but we do worry about her health.

To my idol, there is a time to fight, Ma’am Miriam, and a time to sheath back your sword for you and your country’s sake. Maybe, now is the right time to do the latter. In your 2014 best-selling book Stupid is Forever, you said: I feel like I am going, and soon. Just call me the disappearing senator. Again, I beg to disagree. Aborting the presidential mission at this point may preserve much of the MDS’ that we know.

For a warrior like MDS, that's a tough decision. So we watch.

Today's Revolution: Rodrigo Duterte?

“He who submits to tyranny, loves it.”− J.P. Rizal

If there is anything Rodrigo Duterte hated so much, it is the elementary notion of due process: a law which hears before it condemns. Under his watch as mayor, the City of Davao has no use for such notion. This is a perversion of what the rule of law is supposed to be. The next step for such perverted behavior is to capture the Golden Fleece− the presidency. Then comes, dictatorship.

A shame to be proud of?

Relished by many as the country’s “Punisher,” Duterte makes no qualms of his admiration for the Marcos dictatorship as the perfect model of authoritarian rule while at the same time bewailing everyone not to mess up with the Constitution. Pure admiration, however, is the easiest part; making it work is the real test. Duplicating the Marcos blueprint, of course, is fatal for as the saying goes, nothing grows under the Banyan tree. If Duterte were to plot the direction of dictatorship in this country, let me remind him that the framers of the 1987 Constitution, wary of another emerging dictator coming in our midst, fashioned the present martial law powers with intricate safeguards that could surely stop him dead on his tracks. This I’m most confident about.

But for all the constitutional antidotes against a repetition of the Marcos regime, the quirks of history convinced me that indeed it would be very difficult to stop a much determined tyrant from imposing his will. And this what makes Rodrigo Duterte’s bid for the presidency so dangerous.

I don’t know if you feel it, but I feel it and the mention of Rodrigo Duterte’s name alone, even in subterranean whispers, give me shivers down my spine. Duterte, who has been mayor since 1988, has flaunted more than 1000 victims of apparent death squad executions. And that is not all. In his recent interview with Rappler, Duterte threatened criminal suspects anew: “Kapag naging presidente ako, magtago na kayo. Yang 1,000 it will reach 50,000. I would kill all of you who make the lives of Filipinos miserable." If he were to make good of his promises of law and order and the speedy eradication of corruption from top to bottom, it is not hard to imagine that we would soon be having a ‘revolutionary government’ under a Duterte presidency. Seriously, nothing is “carved on tablets of imperishable stone, “not even the supreme law of the land.

I have not read any of his statements on how he would go about imposing dictatorial rule with the 1987 Constitution firmly in place. Duterte is a lawyer by profession, but certainly not of Mr. Marcos’ caliber. All he has at the moment is the Marcosian daring. My surmise is that he would call for a constitutional revision to carry out his planned dictatorship under a revolutionary scheme, then a shift maybe to federalism when the dust settles.

Duterte the revolutionary, hah!

Change. The nation is whirling with change and the first shoot-to-kill victim would be the fundamental law, the 1987 Constitution we hold dear. Being a ruthless violator of the Bill of Rights, Duterte would not allow himself to be imprisoned by any constitution like Mr. Marcos’ martial law in 1972. For a time, Marcos too toyed with the idea of a revolutionary government but had to scrapped it altogether as he didn’t want to look like he violated the Constitution.

In his book “Leaders: From Marcos to Arroyo,” prolific writer and political firebrand Bono Adaza pointed out that this was Ferdinand Marcos’ “grand and tragic mistake.” Instead of a revolutionary government, Marcos, for all his creativity and brilliance, chose in the end to go along traditional channels to institute his daring reforms. “Martial law is a prisoner of the Constitution,” wrote Adaza in one of the chapters of his magnificent book. “You must always act within the provisions of the Constitution. What Marcos should have done was to declare a revolutionary government because under it, the government is the law and the leader is the law giver.” (Adaza 2009) Marcos, however, was a meticulous person; he wanted to be remembered as one who respected the Constitution thus he had to find a way to pull off his biggest political extravaganza. But for a self-confessed ‘berdugo’ like Rodrigo Duterte, his cards lay openly on the table. Imposing a dictatorial regime is no secret, in fact, it could very well be the centerpiece of his program of government. Scary? Yes, because he would replicate the Davao experiment and apply it on national scale. How’s that for a president or worse, for a law giver? Clearly, it is easier to run a revolution than a constitutional government.

For those who are not comfortable with Duterte’s ways of leadership, the ruthless mayor of Davao has consistently issued a disclaimer during his interviews: "I don't want to be president. I don't want to kill people. So don't elect me as president."

The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) has called on the Philippine government to investigate Duterte for his possible role in extrajudicial killings in Davao City over the past decades. But nothing has come out of it. One really wonders as one harks back to the pages of the Bill of Rights, especially the constitutional presumption of innocence. For as one looks at the present political landscape, the feeling is almost one of utter despair. The people are no longer willing to defend, much less assert, their liberties protected by the Constitution. More than Rodrigo Duterte, I’m much more afraid of those who will cast their lot on him; desperate citizens who would be willing to march with him to the ends of the earth in search of the promise land.

If only our sense of patriotism awakes, then something can be done to head off the whirlwind. Eternal vigilance, let us not forget, is the price of freedom! Still and all, I wish him luck.

Vignettes from the Past—Salvador “Doy” Laurel

“One has to wait for the darkness of the night”, uttered one Chinese philosopher of yore, “to realize how splendid the day has been!” Gazing at the political circus heading to the 2016 elections where windbags, wimps and thieves dominate the show, a huge question mark looms over the political horizon: Where are the grandees of the yesteryear? Sadly, they are no longer around because great leaders, like it or not, come in a torrent or they don't come at all.

Today you look around you simply want to puke in utter disgust. Many of our politicos at present do not have what it takes to be leaders. All they have going for them is that they are popular and they are very good at casting voodoo spell on the masses.

But times have changed. Gone are the days when political leaders possessed the kind of integrity that could mount on granite; leaders of vision and substance, men who cared, men who would readily give up their ambitions, even their lives for the country.

Speaking of great leaders, November 18 marks the 87th birth anniversary of one of the inimitable statesmen of the golden days, the chivalrous Batangueño gentleman Salvador “Doy” Laurel, who was Vice President of the Philippines from 1986 to 1992. But before his iconic display of selflessness in 1985 when he gave up his presidential ambition to unite a divided opposition at the senescent of the Marcos regime, Doy Laurel too graced the gilded halls of the Senate in 1968. This was a time, that glorious moment in our political history when the crass of materialism and opportunism had not yet taken over the nobility of public office. Doy Laurel, a first-timer in politics, trudged by and distinguished himself on a par with the political giants of his time such as Lorenzo Tanada, Jose W. Diokno, Emmanuel Pelaez, Arturo Tolentino, Jovito Salonga, Ambrosio Padilla, and many others who were almost as brilliant and prodigious.

Novice with a cause –social justice

While politicos of today are propelled to public office despite the lack of outstanding academic achievement, appreciable experience or any earth-shaking contribution to society, leaders of the old could jerk your jaw in any direction with their impeccable pedigree. And the same is true with the young barrister, Doy Laurel, when he plunged into politics in the late sixties.

Capped with a law degree from UP and a doctoral degree from Yale University, Doy was a renaissance man who showed a social conscience at the outset of his public life, quite rare for politicians of his stature (if any) these days. For his groundbreaking free legal aid work which greatly benefited the poor and the unwanted, Doy crashed the headlines and earned the cognomen of “Mr. Public Defender.” Soon came the founding of the Citizen’s Legal Aid Society of the Philippines or CLASP, which later on became a nationwide organization of legal aid lawyers, the first of its kind in the country– the mother of what we now call the Public Attorney’s Office (PAO).

Still and all, Doy had the gnawing realization that even though the poor could get a lawyer’s services for free, the law itself did not help them enough to afford the high cost of justice. It was then that Doy Laurel switched his talent and decided to run for the Senate.

On the stump, Doy, a known orator even in his UP days, aroused the crowd with effortless ease: “Let me carry on this crusade for justice in the halls of the Senate! Help me bring down the high cost of justice! Help bring justice within the reach of the poor.”

Such was his battle cry, the ‘cause’ that catapulted Doy to the Senate. Again, this was the 1967 Senatorial Elections when contenders for public office were men of eloquence, ideas and dedication to the cause of the people.

Benjamin of the Senate

From the very start, despite being an administration candidate, Doy Laurel emerged as an independent senator of the realm because he adhered to no party line, not even his own party’s. To set off the mood, Doy rose in the session hall to make his maiden speech entitled “Crisis of Confidence,” a soaring indictment asking all government officials to “change or be changed” or else reap the “gathering whirlwind” of the people’s wrath. The people around Ferdinand Marcos were stunned, as was the president. But Marcos held his peace and it was Imelda, ever the precocious First Lady, who said: “I told you so, I warned you that fellow would be troublesome.”

Once in the Senate, Doy focused on all kinds of reforms– penal, judicial and land reform, even government reorganization. But the one closest to his heart was his cause, the fight for social justice. In keeping with his campaign promises, Doy authored bills that would eventually be enacted into laws popularly known as “Justice for the Poor Laws,” or simply “Laurel Laws.” For the next three years of his term, Doy Laurel was consistently awarded “Most Outstanding Senator of the Year” by the press. Then the unthinkable happened. Martial law was declared and Congress was shut down.

Wishful thinking?

With the passage of time, Salvador “Doy” Laurel stands taller still in the Pantheon of Filipino leaders. And now that the election is nearing, I envy our elders because they get to live during the times of the immortals. I pity that the youth today can no longer or even dare to look back when public office homed the most capable and willing. Amidst our candidates’ crisis in qualification and character, we willingly fall into pit hole full of self-proclaimed thieves and berdugos, messianic foundlings, poor and weakling copycats of their political parents and grandparents and opportunistic family dynasties out of sheer desperation. But we should despair not because the power to change lies on that ballot.

Ah, if only this nation can unite following a fictional romantic noontime series on the idiot box, then maybe we can also have that time to examine and follow the next set of leaders we will elect on 2016.

Photos courtesy of Raffy Sanz, Salvador H. Laurel Archive

NB: On the occasion of Dr. Salvador H. Laurel’s birthday on November 18, the website doylaurel.ph has been re-launched to commemorate his life, his advocacies, his faith in our people, his love for the country and his great belief in the Filipino youth.

Salvador H. Laurel—“Mr. Public Defender” (Part 2)

Sworn to serve the poor

The trial by publicity surrounding the celebrated Laurel-Silva case must have turned the tide of Atty. Laurel’s promising and blissful career. His lifelong advocacy began with a phone call from Bulacan Represenative Teodulo Natividad who—mired in congressional inquiry of police brutalities—was torn one morning by the plight of a young couple who were mauled by Parañaque policemen. “Please,” he implored Atty. Laurel, “take the case for the prosecution.” Feeling that every word was exiting in crutches, Atty. Laurel accepted the case for free. By sheer happenstance, however, word leaked out to a newspaperman, who used the item for his staid column.

The same morning that the story came out, Atty. Laurel received another phone call— this time from Justice Roman Ozaeta, president of the Philippine Bar Association (PBA). “Allow us to help you,” said Justice Ozaeta to the young barrister. “Let the prosecution of erring policemen be a public service of our group.” By some extraordinary act of fate, Atty. Laurel once again, said yes.

As Atty. Laurel’s popularity began to soar, he later found himself swamped with a dozen of similar cases referred by the PBA involving pauper litigants. At times, penniless clients went directly to him, begging for free legal assistance. Suddenly, he was very much involved with legal aid. And the more he plunged himself into the plight of the poor the sooner he realized that many people suffered in silence because they could not afford the services of a lawyer. He promised to do something about it. But he needed all the help he could get. Atty. Laurel then visited Justice Ozaeta to raise his concerns. There he suggested the formation of a legal aid committee composed of lawyers who must not only be brilliant, but one with guts, and must be non-political. From thence, the Citizens Legal Assistance Committee (CLAC) was born.

In accepting the chairmanship of the PBA anti-crime body, Atty. Laurel said thusly, “I shall do my best.” Early on, one could already predict that the young Laurel had the imprint of an exceptional leader just like his idol, the illustrious wartime president and former (acting) chief justice of the Philippine Supreme Court, Jose P. Laurel. He also showed social conscience, quite rare for a man of his stature and prestige. But no matter how resolute he was at that time, he needed still a helping hand from his fellow civic-minded compañeros in order to push his advocacy: “It is high time that we in the legal profession should stand up as a man and fight criminality in all forms, especially crimes committed on helpless citizens by those in the police forces,” Atty. Laurel seethed.

In a matter of weeks after the nascent of CLAC, the Laurel Law Office in Intramuros had been inundated with hundreds of request for free legal assistance. There is, however, one remarkable case among the pile of cases referred to CLAC that had societal implications even to this day: the case of Parisio Tayag. This case, by all accounts, had truly put CLAC on the map at a time when the bogey of police brutality was very much in the saddle. Again, our protagonist Atty. Laurel personally handled the case from womb to tomb.

Murder in Dinalupihan

Parisio Tayag was a destitute man working as a bus driver in Dinalupihan, Bataan. One day, as he was driving along barrio Luacan of said town, his bus bumped into a passenger jeepney, causing a small dent on in its rear fender. The town policeman, no less than Dinalupihan’s chief of police who also happens to be a close friend of the jeepney owner, came to investigate the incident. After a cursory look at the jeepney’s railing, he demanded a paltry sum of three hundred pesos from Tayag, allegedly for the repair of his friend’s vehicle. Tayag, unmoved, told the policeman that he was not at fault and that the jeepney driver did not even have a license to start with. He then instead offered everything he had in his pocket: ten pesos. One word led to another and in a heated exchange that seemed unending for a time, the policeman finally relented and returned his license without cost —or so he thought.

Two days later, at around five o’clock in the afternoon, Tayag was seen running for his life as he raced away from the municipal building towards the town plaza. Apparently, earlier that day, Tayag went to Dinalupihan municipal hall to find out for sure whether his case was really settled. Due to something only those present inside the hall could fully attest, Tayag was then seen drawing his “balisong” against the police chief who also aimed his gun back at him. Moments later, hot in pursuit were six policemen. Then, a volley of shots rang out. When the arsenal smoke finally settled, Tayag was seen lifeless: two bullets from police guns pierced his legs; another two bullets entered his back, traversed his lungs and the heart, and exited from the middle portion of Tayag’s breast.

Strangely enough, the drama did not end there. Lucila, the victim’s widow, had to endure everything she witnessed on that fateful day. In one snap of grief, Lucila, the young mother of six, lost her mind and the baby she was carrying in her womb. She was eventually admitted to a mental hospital leaving her children under the care of their grandparents.

Atty. Salvador Laurel, representing CLAC, took up the cudgels for Tayag’s orphaned children and rendered his services as a private prosecutor. He went all the way to Balanga, Bataan to personally handle the case from preliminary investigation up to the trial. Atty. Laurel vividly recounted the highlights of this case:

I was counsel for the offended party; the Tayag children, orphaned when their father was killed, and the mother went mad. I argued that there was no need to gun Tayag down. Six policemen could have easily cornered one man. The trial was news because CLAC had come to the aid of five orphans who would otherwise have been helpless in securing justice. I appeared personally at the trial; the six policemen were convicted. The case was given prominence in the Free Press Magazine and more people heard of CLAC.

As it was, the court convicted the six policemen—‘sworn guardians of the law’—for murder.

From CLAC to CLASP

The Parisio Tayag case gained prominence through the media, and more people took notice what CLAC had been doing through the years. Soon CLAC saw the imperative of organizing a bigger legal aid team as more cases poured in that needed free legal assistance. CLAC originally started with only ten lawyers: Crispin Baizas, Jose Y. Feria, Juan T. David, Gonzalo W. Gonzalez, Juan Luces Luna, J. Antonio Araneta Alberto M. K. Jamir, Francisco Ortigas Jr., Angel C. Cruz and Salvador H. Laurel. Albeit they were among the brightest and courageous breed of lawyers in the legal profession, CLAC did not simply have the wherewithal to handle hundreds of cases piled up on its table. Nor could they have possibly foreseen the impact of their advocacy in the Philippine justice system. Atty. Salvador H. Laurel recalled:

I found out that 94% of the cases filed by poor people in the fiscal’s office were dismissed because the complainants could not afford a lawyer. Imagine, 94%! The complaints of the poor against criminal abuse were mostly thrown out for lack of counsel. That was an explosive situation! It affected me a lot. I was appalled!

Finally, owing to the gravity of the problem, Atty. Laurel saw the need to expand CLAC into a nationwide network of legal aid lawyers. I Informed Justice Ozaeta that what we were accomplishing in the CLAC was just a tiny trickle compared to the magnitude of the problem. What we saw was just the tip of the iceberg. It was a huge problem because it was nationwide. I urge Justice Ozaeta to let me organize CLAC to make it nationwide, and he consented.

The result was the 1967 rebirth of the country’s premiere legal aid organization; from CLAC, the group metamorphosed into a non-stock, non-profit corporation known as Citizens’ Legal Aid Society of the Philippines or CLASP. Inspired by Atty. Laurel’s deep-seated commitment with free legal aid, more volunteer lawyers throughout the country joined CLASP in its quest for justice for the poor. By the end of the first year (1966-1967), CLASP had 52 chapters with 750 lawyers under its wing; marking a prodigious output in the history of the organization. Consequently, other legal aid organizations in the country surfaced after CLASP, especially during the dark days of martial rule, but for the record, CLASP was the first. “If every lawyer in the country would only handle one case for an aggrieved litigant, “lamented Doy Laurel in one of his speeches, “that would go a long way in restoring the faith of the poor in the administration of justice.”

Soon there was a nationwide clamor urging Atty. Laurel to bring the cause of justice to the halls of Congress. Indeed, new laws were needed to provide free legal aid to the poor. Atty. Laurel got elected to the Senate under CLASP’s platform—justice for the poor and the oppressed— garnering the third highest number of votes in the 1967 senatorial elections. A decade later, his efforts were greatly rewarded when the International Legal Aid Association (ILLA) capped him as the Most Outstanding Legal Aid Lawyer of the World for 1976. Cited was his pioneering work in legal aid as Chairman of CLASP and his having authored five (5) “Justice for the Poor Laws” or simply, the Laurel Laws, while in the Senate.

And the rest, as the cliche goes, is history.

Sources:

Joaquin, Nick. Doy Laurel In Profile. Lahi, Inc. 2012

Berbano, Teodoro. “The CLAC in Action”. Graphic. June 14, 1967

“CLAC Winds Up Inquiry Into Driver’s Slaying”. The Manila Chronicle. June 1, 1967

Asa, Leon L., “Remembering the Late Former Vice President Dr. Salvador “Doy” H. Laurel”. The Lawyer’s Review. March 31, 2004

Interview:

Arrieta, Abundio, Marbella, Winston, Monico, Jacob, Oliveros, Jose. Interview by the author, electronic recording, Makati. Philippines. September 2014

Photo credit: Salvador H. Laurel archive