Punitive and impunity are opposites but the current prolonged “telenovelas” in the Congress of the Philippines (both houses, the Senate and the House of Representatives) highlight the paradox of “punitive impunity.”
For all our claims of being a Christian country, of being forgiving and turning the other cheek after being slapped, we are actually very vengeful and punitive, quick to retaliate—the punishments often more severe than the assault against us. Even worse, we demand the punishment as rapidly as possible, even without due process to establish if the accused is indeed guilty.
The practice of law in the Philippines seems to be obsessed with prosecution and obtaining the most severe punishments possible, worse for the poor, who are unable to get competent lawyers to negotiate for acquittal or lighter sentences.
I am thinking, for example, of the many lolas, grandmothers, serving life sentences in our prisons for selling or transporting illicit drugs.
Note, too, how punishments are considered, by human rights advocates, to be cruel and inhuman not just because they inflict pain but also because of other forms of suffering, including humiliation. You see that in our barangay and police station “justice,” where a complainant is encouraged to physically attack the person being accused of a crime, ranging from theft to adultery.
How does our being punitive relate to impunity?
First, impunity itself is one of the worst forms of punishment, depriving the disenfranchised, the disempowered, access to due process and a fair trial, plus restorative justice and rehabilitation, whether as victims of crimes or as those accused of crimes.
Second, the most severe punishments, and the “justice” system that enforces the laws are formulated by people whose power is based on impunity, exempt from the punishments and the accompanying suffering, loss, and humiliation.
We’ve seen that in the congressional hearings, particularly in the ongoing investigations into Vice President Sara Duterte as education secretary as well as her father, former president Rodrigo Duterte, and his war on drugs during his incumbency.
Father and daughter constantly invoke all kinds of entitlements even in the way the investigations are conducted, giving new meanings to the arrogance that is impunity.
And, surprise, surprise, the duo now complains about persecution and, in the case of Sara, citing the Anti-Terrorism Act as unjust because the act threatens to confiscate their assets, bar them from travel, allow entry into and search their property, and so forth and so on.
A lawyer, Sara is updated on this terrible law, one which was passed during the term of Duterte, the father. We have seen how, since the act passed in 2020 at the height of COVID, simply filing charges against “persons of interest” becomes a weapon of oppression, persecution, and most importantly, punishment. The impunity that allowed Duterte to ram the act through Congress expanded the arsenal of cruel and inhuman punishment, starting with the “Red-tagging,” where accusing the “person of interest” of being a communist can endanger the life of the accused.
In effect, when Sara complains about the act, she’s screaming, with expletives, “Foul!” Indeed, the act is one of the foulest travesties of law and laws. “Karma,” I hear people commenting, but we should be more introspective and think hard: allowing the use of the act against Sara further legitimizes it, and will open its use, in the future, against many Filipinos.
Why can’t we find other laws to bring Sara to justice? I agree, too, with the view that impeachment, another punitive action, is not appropriate here, with Duterte’s lawyers sure to find ways to stall and stonewall the processes and waste more taxpayer money.
I also want to point out a blind spot that our punitive system of impunity has created. This is the way our Congress is quick to remand people being investigated to penitentiaries, sometimes even threatening that action during the hearing itself. Our legislators are too quick to scream, “Kulong! (off to prison),” in effect turning into judge and executioner.
When Sara’s chief of staff Zuleika Lopez (and another witness in the Alice Guo trial) were ordered to be jailed, it was not surprising to find hysterical responses. The cynical among us might think it’s theatrics but really, given the terrible state of our jails and the way inmates can be detained for indefinite periods of time (think of former senator Leila de Lima’s six years in prison during Duterte’s and part of Marcos’ term)—who would not go into severe anxiety attacks?
As for the rest of the nation, shouldn’t we be more anxious than entertained by the antics engendered by punitive impunity?
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mtan@inquirer.com.ph