Tax talk

President Aquino gave three major speeches last Friday, but only one of them will be remembered years from now, as a pitch-perfect example of how to talk tough with the utmost tact. He not only told influential Chinese businessmen to pay the right amount of taxes; ever so gently, he told them off.

At the 29th Biennial Convention of the Federation of Filipino-Chinese Chambers of Commerce and Industry, Mr. Aquino regaled his audience with his frequent acknowledgment of the Chinese business community’s generous contributions to the nation. And then he said:

“Based on your own 2011-2013 directory, I understand that your federation includes 207 firms and organizations as members. Of this 207, I am told, only 105 have a Tax Identification Number. I wonder what happened to the others…. Of these 105 firms, only 54 filed tax returns. To make matters worse, 38 firms and organizations actually filed returns with zero tax due. This means that only 16 out of the 207—or only around 8 percent—of your member-organizations paid taxes. The 6.6 growth did not seem to affect your members.”

He continued, turning the focus from institutions to individuals: “Now, there are also 552 of you who are individual members. And of this number, 424 of you have Tax Identification Numbers. It is interesting to note that of that number 185, or almost 44 percent, filed income tax returns. Of those that filed tax returns, at least only 14 filed returns with zero tax due. What this means is 354 out of 552 members—or 64 percent of you—did not pay taxes for the same reasons: no TIN, no tax due, or nothing filed at all.”

It would have been difficult for his audience to contest the President’s data, which he said he got directly from the Bureau of Internal Revenue. It would have been even harder to complain about Mr. Aquino’s tack, because he phrased his request in positive terms: “… this was truly unexpected news, especially since you have always been so willing to give generously to our countrymen. In terms of actively reaching out to our countrymen, your contributions have always been clear. But perhaps it is time to ask ourselves: Am I contributing in the right way—not just through corporate social responsibility, but also through my personal obligations—through contributions to the policies that have helped us build our success?”

Am I contributing in the right way? Not exactly a Kennedyesque challenge to citizenship—but the right, potent question to ask.

Lyricist of the Court

ISAGANI A. CRUZ, associate justice of the Supreme Court for eight years and columnist of the Philippine Daily Inquirer for 15, passed away last Friday, at the age of 88. A true legal luminary, the path he lit continues to guide lawyers and civil libertarians alike.

Many tributes have been laid at his feet; to the chorus of sincere praise, we wish to add a simple note, about the power of his prose.

He had a gift for narrative; his ponencias were famous among law students and lawyers for the lyrical way he narrated the circumstances of the case. “The initial reaction of the people inside the compound was to resist the invasion with a burst of gunfire. No one was hurt as presumably the purpose was merely to warn the intruders and deter them from entering.” (Alih v Castro, 1987)

He had a way with images: “I do not consider a person a criminal, until he is convicted by final judgment after a fair trial by a competent and impartial court. Until then, the Constitution bids us to presume him innocent. He may seem boorish or speak crudely or sport tattoos or dress weirdly or otherwise fall short of our own standards of propriety and decorum. None of these makes him a criminal although he may look like a criminal.” (Dissent, in People v Malmstedt, 1991)

But his legal acumen also found exact expression in his aphoristic phrase-making. “It has become increasingly clear that the grandiose description of this Court as the bulwark of individual liberty is nothing more than an ironic euphemism. In the decision it makes today, the majority has exalted authority over liberty in another obeisance to the police state, which we so despised during the days of martial law. I cannot share in the excuses of the Court because I firmly believe that the highest function of authority is to insure liberty.” (Dissent, in NPC v Comelec, 1992)

He, and his powerful pen, will be missed.