A new low
Where were you on Wednesday afternoon, when President Duterte assassinated the character of Sen. Leila de Lima in a speech in Camp Crame? Chances are, you will not soon forget the words the President used to attack his critic:
“Here’s a senator complaining. One day I will tell you that her driver himself, who was a lover, was the one collecting money for her during the campaign,” the President said, without offering a shred of proof to back his claim.
“An immoral woman, insofar as the driver’s wife is concerned, it’s adultery,” he continued. “Here’s a woman who funded a house of a lover and yet we don’t see any complaint about it,” he said. “Those [monies] came readily from her. The intercept between Muntinlupa and the driver were far beyond making sure that somebody was involved,” he added, cryptically.
Was the President certain, beyond any doubt, that the money allegedly collected by the driver went directly to De Lima? He said: “But in fairness, I would never say that the driver gave [the money] to her, but by the looks of it, she has it.”
In other words, the President’s attack against the chair of the Senate committee on justice and human rights, who will begin an investigation into the spate of extrajudicial killings that have marked the start of the Duterte administration, is based, not on proof that she was receiving money from drug lords, but only on her being allegedly an immoral woman.
This is a little rich, coming from a President who is quite happy to talk about his philandering ways, even during the election campaign. The argument on adultery is shockingly sexist; “real men” like Mr. Duterte are immune to criticism about their many affairs and dalliances. On the other hand, paint a woman with the brush of rumor and innuendo, and the President’s supporters will conflate alleged immorality with alleged corruption.
But the real reason that President Duterte is ready to believe these rumors and innuendoes about De Lima is the personal hurt he apparently continues to nurse, about De Lima’s investigation of the so-called Davao Death Squad in the city over which he presided for decades. Even to this day, the President will recall the details of the investigation, mimicking the English accent of De Lima, who was then chair of the Commission on Human Rights. Add the senator’s recent privilege speech about the extrajudicial killings and the committee investigation, and we can begin to understand why Mr. Duterte’s alarm bells have gone off.
The language that Mr. Duterte used, however, is decidedly unpresidential. Then again, perhaps we should not wonder, considering his offensive remarks during the election campaign: his cursing of Pope Francis for one, his gratuitous comment about having sex first, by rights, with a gang rape victim, for another. But stripped to its essentials, what is the President’s case against De Lima? Alleged immorality.
We are hard-pressed to think of another example, from previous presidencies, about language from the President that, if used by a senator, would immediately be deemed unparliamentary, or, if used by an ordinary citizen, would be grounds for slander. This is truly a new low. (And marking his 50th day in office, too.)
And despite promising last week that he would “destroy” a female official, the attack against De Lima last Wednesday was hardly the open-and-shut case he pledged. In the same way that his so-called “narco-list” is riddled with errors, the attack against De Lima is full of holes, too. If this is the best that the President of the Philippines can do, in marshalling government resources against a person he considers an enemy, then there is really nothing against De Lima.
