Please ‘lang’
One, Miriam Defensor-Santiago asked what standards of proof the impeachment court should require in judging Renato Corona’s innocence or guilt. Whether it should be the one used for administrative cases, which is substantive proof, or the one for criminal cases, which is preponderant evidence, or even proof beyond the shadow of a doubt. She herself preferred preponderant evidence.
Naturally the prosecution argued for substantive proof, saying the impeachment court was not an ordinary court and Corona’s case was not a criminal case. And not surprisingly defense argued for proof beyond the shadow of doubt. In a court case where a defendant could end up serving six months in jail, Serafin Cuevas said, you demanded proof beyond a shadow of doubt. How much more in a case where someone could end up being barred for life from public office? That, he proposed, was virtual life imprisonment.
I myself would argue for substantive proof for a reason that seems to lie beyond the grasp of the court. That reason has to do with the nature of a public official. For far too long have we applied the lowest possible standards to a public official. A public official is no longer someone who deserves to be there because he is eminently fit for his office, he is someone who deserves to be there because no one can give absolute proof he stole money, he stole the vote, he stole lives.
I submit (to use a word much loved by the cast of characters in the impeachment court) that the amount of evidence needed to convict a public official should be inversely proportional to the loftiness of office he occupies. Ordinary public officials need substantive proof to be convicted. Chief justices (and presidents) need only a shadow of doubt cast upon their character to be so. About time the impeachment court resolved to abolish the culture of impunity Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo perpetuated in this country, one that says that we do not deserve deserving public officials, we deserve only a–holes we cannot kick out because we cannot touch them with the law.
Two, after saying that the defense had no intention of delaying the proceedings by objecting and that it had no wish to obstruct the truth with legal filibustering, Cuevas went on to delay the proceedings (no presentation of witnesses took place last Tuesday, only a lot of procedural talk) and used legal filibustering to try to block any discussion about Corona’s properties. It reminded me why retired Justice and former Inquirer columnist Isagani Cruz once required lawyers to undergo a writing class to untangle the tangle of verbiage that cluttered up their pleadings and briefs. Arguing that you could be precise and still be understood, you could be legal and still put your point clearly.
Cuevas is the antithesis to it. He takes 10 sentences to say something that could be put in one, thereby taking up a good deal of the court’s time. Quite apart from the fact that he seems to like the sound of his own voice, or believes the court is his class in the UP College of Law and he is its designated lecturer. Maybe that is his intention to begin with, to encourage viewers to switch to a cartoon channel or a teleserye to keep from nodding off on sleepy afternoon. The less the public gets interested in the proceedings, the better for his client.
On the other hand, there’s really no excuse for the way the prosecution formulated Article 2, which is that Corona failed to disclose his SALN and that he is suspected to have acquired ill-gotten wealth. Anybody who wants to take that literally can and will, and Cuevas does not need an engraved invitation to do so. You just add the word “correctly” to “failed to disclose his SALN” and drop “suspected,” and you have no problems. That is not a question of legal language vs. the language of everyday life. That’s just basic English.
Of course, as Niel Tupas has argued, nagkakaintindihan naman, Corona was well aware of what he was being charged with, which was acquiring ill-gotten wealth. Proof of which was that he has repeatedly denied the charges. But he and his group could have spared us a lot of that interminable exchange if they had only been a little more careful.
Santiago had the best lines of the day when she reminded the court of what happened after she and several senators hewed to a strictly legalistic approach and blocked the opening of the second envelope during Erap’s trial. You do that, she said, and the people will believe you are trying to hide something. (Wrongly, she added, in the case of the second envelope.) What can one say? I am glad Santiago has shown a good learning curve. It’s in that spirit prosecution’s appeal for leeway may be taken. Enough of that nonsense, let’s get on with it.
Three, thank God Alan Peter Cayetano spoke in Filipino, or Tagalog if you will, which drove several other senators to follow suit. Including Juan Ponce Enrile, who did so admirably though he is Ilocano. It had struck me before that how doubly alienating the trial is for the ordinary Filipino, having to deal not just with legal jargon but with a foreign language as well (even if we pride ourselves in being an English-speaking people). It reminded me of why we do poorly in math and the other sciences, as shown by comparisons of the test scores of our students and those of other countries. The kids do not just have to learn the mathematical and scientific principles, a daunting task in itself, they have to learn a new language too. Double the effort, half the gain. Surely the trial cannot be edifying if it is not enlightening to begin with? Surely what is lofty cannot be so lofty if it is not understood at all? Surely the impeachment could adopt, or at least encourage, a language closest to the hearts and minds of the masa?
Please lang.
