S1L51 - Overseas Absentee Voting

ommy Dionisia! Fancy meeting you here in the mall! Merry Christmas po!” I was so happy to see my oldest student gallivanting around the mall, enjoying the holidays like everybody else.

“Merry Christmas, Prof! Are you here to line up with the kids to have their selfies taken with Santa Claus?” she joked.

“Nooo…last time I did that a second line of kids formed in front of me and I heard one of those little devils say to another, ‘dito na lang tayo. Mas mataba pa kay Santa Claus!’ So I swore never to come anywhere near Santa Claus again, especially when I’m wearing my red hoodie!” I said. The kind old woman laughed heartily, just as two little giggly children aged about 10 or 11 ran into her arms from nowhere.

“Prof, these are my two grandkids, they are fraternal twins, a girl and a boy, children of my eldest daughter Laura who is working as a nurse in Germany,” Mommy Dionisia said.

“Are they your grandkids really, wow! And twins, too. Just like your classmates Glad and Gladys,” I said. It’s a good thing that Mommy Dionisia clued me right away that one of them was a boy. Otherwise, I could have sworn they both looked like they could be either—both boys or both girls. In this day and age, how can anyone be sure? Boys now wear even more earrings than girls. Girls sport more tattoos and body piercings than boys. And as to their names, forget it. How will you guess the gender behind names like Avenger, Apple, Tron, Aquarius, Nimbus or Turbo?

“So what are your names, kiddos?” I stooped down and asked.

“My name is Denise, sir” said the little girl—or at least she SOUNDED like a girl.

“Well, Denise, you have such a beautiful girl’s name. Who thought of that name, your mom?

“No, sir, my aunt, my mom’s sister. We were born by caesarian section so our mom was unconscious.” The girl answered. Mommy Dionisia supplemented the information.

“I have two daughters, Prof. When Laura was in labor for these twins, she gave her sister Maria, my younger daughter, the discretion to think of a name for her baby just before they gave her anesthesia for the C-section. They weren’t expecting twins so when these two came out, Maria wasn’t ready with two names. But it just occurred to her that the baby girl was her niece, so she named her DENISE.”

“Oh, no,” I turned to the boy and asked him, “and what did your auntie Maria name you, young man?”

“DENEPHEW,” the boy said. I knew it.

“Well, you two kids two are wonderful!” I gushed, “I bet your mom adores you both, that’s why she’s working so hard in Germany, so you could both have a bright future.”

Mommy Dionisia was beaming, “the future truly belongs to my apos, Prof, that’s why I’m really rooting for Leni in this coming elections. I want my apos to grow up knowing a president who doesn’t cuss!”

“Oh, you’re for Leni!” I said, “your classmate Miss Deema is gonna love you. She’s helping run Leni’s groundwork operations in the city, or the whole region I think.”

“I know, Prof, she was the one who turned me on to Leni in class, after your lecture on political dynasties, I won’t forget that. Leni and the Android system hihihi,” Mommy Dionisia laughs still like a young girl herself, even though she’s pushing 60.

“Yeah, well I think she has recruited the whole class. Crazy girl even invaded my chalkbox and swapped my chalk with pink ones, can you believe that??”

“Hahaha! Yes, with Deema I can believe that, but would you please relay a very important message to her for me, Prof?”

“Of course!” I said.

“Please tell Deema I’ve grown white hairs seeing election after election and campaign strategies galore. But she must never forget the cardinal rule in campaigning, and I’ll say it in Tagalog because it loses meaning if you translate it in English.” Mommy Dionisia said.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” I said.

“Please tell Deema ‘sa anumang eleksyon maraming tumatakbo…meron ding naglalakad…pero ang nananalo parati yung GUMAGAPANG!”

“Wow!” I said, and spelled out the acronym WOW, “words of wisdom. I will be sure to relay that to Miss Deema. In fact, I think tomorrow, she’s scheduled to make ‘gapang’ to some drivers group, then after that I think she’s talking to a group of call center operators, she’ll ‘gapang’ them too. It’s possible she can convince them to change the greeting line in their call center scripts to something like ‘thank you for supporting Leni, may I help you?”

“Oh, yes, with Deema that’s definitely doable!” said Mommy Dionisia.

“What about your daughter Laura in Germany, has she made arrangements?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, Prof definitely. She’s availing of the overseas absentee voting privilege. She was able to register successfully before the deadline last October 14 at the Philippine embassy in Bonn. She took a day to travel to Bonn because she’s really based in Weisbaden. But she didn’t mind, she wants Leni to win too.”

“Did you hear that, kids?” I addressed Denise and Denephew, “see how much trouble your mom is willing to go through just to cast a vote for the one she believes is the right president to run our country and secure your future. And she has to go through the whole thing again a second time when she actually votes,” I said.

“Maybe not so much, Prof, she’s taking the option of mailed-in ballots. That’s why she had to be very careful and very specific when she gave her home address during registration. The embassy will send her ballot to that home address. After filling in the ballot, she has to mail it back to the embassy and it must be received before May 9, 2022.”

“Well it’s a good thing overseas voting starts a month before our own election day here,” I said, “that gives Laura plenty of time to do her mailing."

"Oh, for sure. Even if its just to drop her mailing, my daughter said she would still take the day off, just to make sure her mailing is done just right!"

"Did you hear that kids? NOTHING is going to stop your mom from voting for Leni. I hope that kind of tenacity by your mom inspires you,” I said.

Mommy Dionisia hugged her two grandkids, “Oh, they are inspired alright. Ask this little girl what her ambition is.”

“Let me guess. You’re so encouraged by your mom I bet your ambition to become like her, huh? You want to become a nurse too?”

“No, sir.” The little girl said politely.

“No? So what IS your ambition there, young lady?” I was puzzled.

“I want to run for President!”

Whoa! Well, what do you know. Little girl punches way above her weight division.

This IS the next ‘Leni’!

S1L50 - "The Thirteenth Month Pay" Law

iss Deema Niwala, on your feet…”

After looking around the classroom and making sure there was no possibility of any other person answering to the same name, this girl from Tublay finally rose her feet, “are you sure, sir?”

“Am I sure of what??”

“Nothing, sir…uh…it’s just been ages since you called me as your first reciter,” Deema said.

“It’s been claimed, Miss Deema, that we have a certain former Philippine president to thank for the fact that usually around this time of year, employees receive their so-called ‘Thirteenth Month Pay’ and that without that particular past president, nobody would be enjoying an extra month’s salary today,” I decided to do away with my usual long Iecture intros and jump into asking a key question right away, “so I wonder if your vast stock knowledge of useless trivia would concur with that claim.”

“If you’re referring to former President Marcos, yes sir, he did issue P.D. 851 on December 16, 1976 formalizing the giving of 13th month pay to employees in the private sector. But I wouldn’t credit him with our enjoyment of 13th month pay as the concept is understood and implemented today.”

“Wait, let’s get one thing clear, Miss Deema. Did he or did he not give everybody 13th month pay?”

“He did NOT give everybody 13th month pay, sir. Not today and not even back in 1976. That PD 851 is a very short 1-page document. In fact, not counting the ‘whereases’ it consists of only 3 sections. The most important was section 1 where it said ‘all employers must give their employees receiving a basic salary of not more than P1,000 a month a 13th month pay.”

“That sounds pretty general to me, don’t you think so?” even the class was nodding their heads in agreement.

“Because it used the phrase ‘ALL EMPLOYERS’ sir, but the filter phrase is ‘employees receiving a basic salary of NOT MORE THAN P1,000 A MONTH.”

“Can you translate that in present terms, Miss Deema” I asked.

“Well, sir, most economists agree that the inflationary adjustment factor between now and the 1970s is around TEN TIMES. So in current terms, that’s like saying only those earning less than P10,000 a month are entitled to 13th month pay. That means other than a few well-paid kasambahays or housemaids, practically nobody would be entitled to 13th month pay today, if we were to follow only PD 851. The average daily minimum wage now is P420, so a minimum wage earner would be making around P12,600. If a minimum wage earner doesn’t even qualify, nobody else would qualify, sir.”

“Well, evidently SOME law must be making it possible for everybody to be receiving it today, Miss Deema” I teased her, because I know she knows more that the whole class can benefit from. I just have to fish it out of the girl.

“It’s a compilation of many laws sir, the Labor Code of the Philippines, several industry-specific Magna Cartas, several Revenue laws also helped set the tax exemption basis, even as recently as the Tax Reform for Acceleration and Inclusion or ‘TRAIN’ law, countless Departmental Orders and Executive Orders, all issued waaaaay after Marcos was already gone---”

“Waaaay after?” I mimicked Miss Deema to try to discover why she seems to want to diminish the praises lately being showered on the late dictator.

“Waaay after, sir, it’s a myth that he’s responsible for it single-handedly. If anything, the confusingly suggestive language he used in PD 851 in the ‘whereas clauses’ were used by many employers for years to evade compliance.”

“What do you mean ‘confusingly suggestive’ language, Miss Deema?”

“Sir, Marcos said in that PD—'whereas, the Christmas season is an opportune time for society to show its concern for the plight of the working masses so they may properly celebrate Christmas and New Year’—so for many years, the 13th month pay was confused with the Christmas bonus, which was gratuitous and therefore not compulsory. Or some employees whose faith did not allow them to celebrate Christmas were often discriminated against and deprived of the 13th month pay.”

“My, my, that is awful indeed,” I said, “so how was that corrected, Miss Deema?”

“Through many Supreme Court decisions in countless labor cases, sir. Patiently over the years, our hardworking justices slowly polished and refined the evolving definition of 13th month pay and they are responsible for ‘secularizing’ it and completely divorcing its misleading association with Christmas. It wasn’t Marcos who did that. It was the mess he left behind about 13th month pay that the court cleaned up.”

“Right. So thanks to ‘stare decisis’ we now get an extra month of salary each year,” I recapped.

“Oh, no, no, no, sir---oops!”

“I’ll let it slide again this time, Miss Deema,” as the class chuckled, seeing Deema struggle with the injunction that nobody in class is allowed to copy my verbal mannerism, “what were you about to say?”

“Oh…uh..just that 13th month pay is not really necessarily an extra month of salary, sir. The formula is, everything the employee earned during the year, divided by 12. So even if an employee worked for only one month, which is the minimum, she’d still receive a 13th month pay of one month’s salary divided by 12.”

“Wonderful,” I said and now all I have to do is close the lecture by giving the last definitive remark.

“And so as not to diminish the joy and excitement of getting your 13th month pay, class, I’ll have you know that it is also tax-free!”

“Up to a maximum of P90,000!” Deema added, sending everybody laughing.

“It’s Christmas, Deema! Let Sir have the last say!!” they chorused and laughed

“Be our guest, sir” Deema turned over the floor to me.

“Why, thank you, Miss Deema…I just want to say, Merry Christmas to all of you…and…uh…and…”

“Spit it out, Professor!” the class said.

“And I love you all.” I said finally.

Dead silence.

I wondered why.

Did I say something wrong?

I was in near panic. I looked at Deema. She pointed with her mouth…at the blackboard!

“Oh!”suddenly I got it. I banged the blackboard, and everybody broke out clapping, laughing and exhanging hugs all around.

I felt much better. I felt relieved.

Merry Christmas, Lord!

S1L49 - The "Political Question" Doctrine

iss Carla Nalukay-nalipit?”

“ADDAAWAN, SIR!!!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Addaawan. I keep forgetting…” This is my student from Tabuk City, Kalinga whose name is structured after the Korean ethos of “yin-yang” –her name connotes both presence and absence. Unfortunately, it’s only the “yin-yang” trait of her name that stuck to my mind. I’ve been calling her all kinds of wrong variations of her name, ever since. But at least they’re all “yin-yang” in structure. My bad.

“Miss Carla, have you been reading the news? Your Kalinga province is in the headline lately,” I asked, just to check if Facebook is fulfilling its other role in social media, which is to serve as news informant.

“Is this about our province’s P1-BILLION loan that was stopped by the court, sir?”

Ah, she knows! So Facebook DOES have other content besides shopping promos and obituaries.

“Yes, that issue Why don’t you tell your classmates what that controversy is all about, and let’s see if we can jump off from that and talk about local government autonomy.”

“Well, sir, our governor negotiated with the Land Bank to obtain a loan of roughly ONE BILLION PESOS, payable in—I forget how many years, sir…”

“But beyond the term of office of the incumbent governor?” I clued her in.

“Yes, sir, definitely beyond. That’s why a former governor filed a case in court to stop the loan. He says it’s illegal for any set of public officials to speak and act in behalf of future officials and to create obligations today that must be fulfilled by others in the future. He said that would be unfair to those future officials who have no ‘say’ on the matter right now.”

“Alright. Let’s suppose, class, that those are all the facts, nothing more yet. Can an LGU enter into a loan contract like that? Juan Dimacaawat…”

“Yes, sir!” said Juan, “local government units are municipal corporations. Like all corporations, an LGU has the power of succession and can enter into contracts.”

“Alright, let’s begin with ‘power of succession.’ What is that, Miss Kata Ngahan?”

“Sir, an LGU has a separate personality of its own which is continuing and is unaffected by changes in the personality of its officials.” Kata recited in perfect English diction.

“And why is that significant, Mr. Jack Makataruz?”

“It’s a blitzkrieg,” Deema whispered to her seatmate Hannah Maala, “sir is doing a blitzkrieg, he’s going to call everybody tonight!! Be ready…”

Jack answered, “Sir, power of succession is significant because without it, LGU’s cannot pursue any long term projects. The term of office of local officials is only three years. Some projects take longer than 3 years to implement.”

“So how does ‘power of succession’ enable an LGU to do projects that take longer than 3 years to implement, Mister Hilong Talilong?”

“Sir, it binds officials of the LGU to honor all obligations created even before they became officials of the LGU, and those obligations shall continue to bind the LGU even if its incumbent officials are replaced by newer ones.”

“State that principle in your own words, Mister Jack Makataruz.”

“Uh…sir…kwa…officials come and go, but the LGU stays the same?” Jack launched a ‘hail Mary’ guess. Lucky for him his prayer was answered.

“That’s really how it is, excellent summary, Jack “ I rewarded his derring-do answer.

“So what’s all the opposition to that Kalinga loan about, if the law apparently allows LGU’s to enter into long-term contracts, Miss Nataba-nakuttong”?

“ADDAAWAN, SIR!!!”

“Oh, yeah, right. Miss Addaawan. Is the length of the contract the only point of objection?”

“No, sir. There’s also the question of what was used to collateralize the loan. The Land Bank gets hold of Kalinga’s 20-percent IRA for the next several years, in effect stripping the local legislative body of their power of fiscal management!”

Almost immediately her classmates started softly chanting “Brain bleed! Brain bleed! brain bleed…!”

“Listen to that. I don’t blame your classmates,” I said, “that’s quite a mouthful, so we need to go through that again one element at a time, Miss Nalaka-nangina…”

“ADDAAWAN, SIR!!!”

“Yah, Right, Miss Addaawan. So take us through the basics here…”

“Well, sir, out of all the national taxes collected by the BIR in Kalinga during a year, 20 percent automatically goes to Kalinga’s treasury. That’s our ‘internal revenue allotment’ or IRA. If this loan pushes through, our IRA will now automatically go to Land Bank for the next several years, until the 1 BILLION is fully paid.”

“How much is Kalinga’s annual IRA on average, Miss Dangkaw-bansot?”

“ADDAAWAN, SIR!!!”

“Right, Miss Adaawan. How much would Land Bank’s ‘captive collection’ be if the loan pushes through?”

“Sir, last year our IRA was around P240-MILLION.”

“So it would take Kalinga at least five years to pay that loan…”

“Maybe more, sir, because the loan is interest-bearing. And if our IRA falls below P240-MILLION during a bad collection year, for example, we could even be assessed some penalties.” Miss ‘Yin-yang’ said.

“But at the minimum, that’s five years of not getting any IRA. What can you see wrong about that, Mr. Cabo Buhan?” I’m flipping through their classcards like typhoon Odette on steroids!

“Well, sir, since the term of local officials is only three years, then I can see that at least one batch of officials would be reduced to lameduck officials. They have no budgeting to do. Their main source of revenue is already pre-allocated.”

“Why would that amount to stripping these officials of the power of fiscal management, Miss Palindrome?” Hannah’s eyes lit up, I think she likes the name I gave her even better.

“Well, sir, because the loan will fund most, if not all the spending programs and initiatives of the LGU. But in everything from livelihood projects to new infrastructures, the spending priorities of Kalinga for 2026 is bring determined by conditions in 2021. So at best, the present officials are only guessing, not really planning.” Said Miss Hannah Maala.

“Do you agree, Ms. Joanna Cream-O?”

“PIS-O, SIR!!!”

“Right, Miss Pis-O. Does the loan deprive the LGU of forward planning?”

“No, sir. The loan itself IS the forward planning, and by definition all planning involves guessing, anyway, because you are saying already today what you will do tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow brings.” The girl from Barlig said, drawing almost an instant reaction from Miss Julyrain Arpeggio.

“Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes, sir.”

“I’m sorry, what's that Ms. Arpeggio?”

“That line ‘Who knows what tomorrow brings’ is from that duet of Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes entitled ‘Up where we belong’ sir,” said the class’ prodigious instant composer.

"Riiight..." I said slowly, pretending like I knew the song, "everybody loves those two, Joe-what's-his-name and Jennifer-somebody. We all miss those days of disco."

"Actually it's R-and-B, rhythmn ang blues, sir," Miss Julyrain Arpeggio corrected my warward music trivia “but I agree with Miss joanna Pis-O that tying up the hands of future officials might be a dangerous precedent. Just look at what happened with this COVID-19 pandemic. The whole country had to scramble for money because nobody saw the pandemic coming. It forced the government to realign priorities.”

“I agree with Miss Arpeggio,” I finally took my own stand. “Who can argue with the fact that COVID-19 overshadowed all previous government planning. Of course, it pays to look ahead, but not too far ahead. In just 2 short years, COVID humbled all our planning, and showed us that the ability to face present crises is just as important as dreaming of rosy futures. So I doubt if the court will miss that very important lesson we all learned. THAT ONE BILLION PESO LOAN IS DOOMED,” I declared confidently.

“Maybe not.”

Everybody’s eyes turned to the person who just disagreed with the professor!

As usual, it was Miss Deema Niwala—the girl of a thousand surprises.

“I think that loan is in the bag, would you like me to explain , sir?”

“I would LOVE to hear your explanation, Miss Deema!” I said sarcastically.

“Well, sir, the Local Government Code gives LGU’s the power to contract obligations…so check! The governor, as local chief executive, was authorized by the provincial board to negotiate with Land Bank…check! The contract once finalized was ratified by the provincial board… check! And the programs to be funded by the loan are all contemplated in the provincial development plan…check! So procedure-wise everything checks. Those are the only things you can challenge in court—those are the only JUSTICIABLE questions.” Deema rattled off her checklist of validation criteria for laws and contracts.

“And what about the emasculation of the LGU’s fiscal management, Miss Deema?”

“It’s too subjective, sir,” Deema said definitively, “you would be forcing the court to examine the WISDOM of the present provincial board in setting as their priorities all those programs that will be funded by the loan. Maybe they’re wrong, maybe they’re right. But that’s what the voters elected them into office for—to make wise POLITICAL decisions like that. No court would want to mess around with a political question like that.”

Come to think of it, this girl is correct. That's why one must always look at every legal question from all sides. I and the rest of the class were looking at it from the perspective of administrative law. Miss Deema was attacking the question from the constitutional approach.

Of course, from the teacher's perspective, I MUST always sound like I always knew THAT.

“Well, class, I hope you heard all that your classmate Miss Deema said because I couldn’t have said it better myself. Courts will hesitate to resolve a POLITICAL question,” I decided to concur with my smartest student, “courts are really best equipped to resolve only JUSTICIABLE questions, or those that would only involve determining legal violations or procedural omissions. It cannot override the policy-making discretion of an LGU. And this is the reason why that 1 BILLION loan will most likely be ultimately greenlighted, right Miss Deema?”

“No, sir.” Deema said.

Maybe I should have said ‘a girl of a thousand AND ONE surprises.’

“Uh…Miss Deema, I just agreed with you. Are you changing your opinion? Do you now think that loan is doomed? Again?”

“Oh, no, no, no, sir---oops!”

“It’s okay, go ahead,” I said, but I also rolled MY eyes.

“It will still be approved, but on a practical level, because of ANOTHER reason, sir.”

“Oh? What reason would that be, Miss Deema?”

“Sir, once a bunch of LGU and bank officials think they can get their hands on ONE BILLION PESOS, it would take a miracle to make them let go!”

I call that the ‘COVID point.’

I didn’t see that coming!

S1L48 - "Social Activism" introducing Miss Laarnee Iwasan

hings didn’t go so bad the last time I used my new ‘policy’ of calling students for recitation LAST NAME first. So I think I’ll stick to that policy.

“Is Mister or Miss Iwasan around?” I read from a half-covered classcard. I have a very strong feeling that it would be a guy, maybe a boxer or some other martial arts expert you’d want to keep an arm’s length away from. The name “Iwasan” sounded like a warning.

“Good evening, sir. My name is Laarnee.” It was a girl. Again.

“You’ve got a couple extra vowels too many in your name, Miss Laarnee,” I observed when I read her classcard, “if you would just drop the extra ‘a’ and ‘e’ you’d have a really educational word for a name.”

“Learn,” she said. She catches on fast, “and if I just dropped the extra ‘a’ I’d even be digitally up to date sir—eLearn.”

I glanced at the classcard again. “What does the middle initial ‘S’ stand for, Miss Laarnee?”

“Siputan, sir. I’m Ilocano on my mother’s side.”

“Your middle name is ‘Siputan’ and your last name is ‘Iwasan’—are you anti-social, Miss Laarnee?” I chided her.

“No, sir, I’m a social activist.” She replied dead seriously. And she said ‘social activist’ so casually, I thought I should investigate deeper. I’ve never really been up close to a real-life social activist. I just read all their columns in the newspapers.

“Really? What IS a social activist, Miss Laarnee? What does she do?”

“Nothing, sir.” She answered cryptically.

“Nothing? Zero? Zilch? Nada?” I asked again and braced for a really profound answer. She didn’t disappoint.

“A social activist is a catalyst, sir. A catalyst is something that causes a chemical reaction without itself becoming affected. So everybody is a social activist because we all cause all kinds of social reactions around us. But at the end of the day, we basically stay the same as who we are. So a social activist does nothing other than be a member of society, just like you and everybody else. Some people just want to think of social activists in terms of all kinds of wrong stereotypes, sir, when it’s so basic to just think of them as human beings responding to the same social stimuli as you do.”

I wish somebody would explain to me why in five years of studying in the University of the Philippines, the hotbed of social activism, nobody ever gave me as clear a definition of ‘social activist’ as Miss Laarnee just did.

Even the class was mesmerized. They started looking around and pointing at one another, “aktibista ka pala!” and “ikaw din!” and pockets of small talk sparked around the classroom. When there’s a spontaneous outbreak of reaction like that during lecture, I let it percolate for a few moments, before lightly banging the blackboard to call the class back to order.

“We appreciate that snap lesson, Miss Laarnee, most of us never really thought of ourselves as militants until now,” I said. “but while we’re on the subject of social dynamics, can you please read to us your favorite constitutional provision that treats of that subject. Now there are several, so I want you to choose the most relevant to our local society right now.”

Miss Laarnee rifled through the pages of her codal. It looked to me like she was skipping a lot of pages. She wasn’t choosing randomly, she was locating a particular provision she already had in mind.

“Ah, here it is, sir. It’s Article XII, Section 6, it’s rather long sir…”

“Be my guest,” I greenlighted her.

“Okay. ‘The use of property bears a social function, and all economic agents shall contribute to the common good. Individuals and private groups, including corporations, cooperatives, and similar collective organizations, shall have the right to own, establish, and operate economic enterprises, subject to the duty of the State to promote distributive justice and to intervene when the common good so demands.” Miss Laarnee read, and then looked up to me when she finished.

The girl was lightly panting because she really forced herself to read the entire thing in one breath. It looked almost like she was afraid somebody might stop her from being able to complete delivering the provision.

“Take a deep breath, Miss Laarnee,” I said, “then tell us why you think that provision is the most relevant right now to our local society.”

“Sir, I’m reflecting it off my personal experience,” Miss Laarnee said, speaking like there was a lump in her throat, or something, as she continued, “I work for a company that is fighting for its life right now, sir, just because the State that promised to guarantee me these things is doing almost nothing to fulfill that promise.”

“I think the phrase ‘promised to guarantee’ sounds like a contradiction in terms, sir.” Miss Deema interjected without startling me anymore—it’s like I’ve grown used to it.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I admitted, “well, let’s ask Miss Laarnee here what she meant.”

“I meant, the Constitution itself says that property must serve the needs of society, more than the goals of enterprise, and that if one is tending to overwhelm the other the State must come in to redistribute property because that’s the essence of social justice.” Miss Laarnee explained.

“What kind of company do you work for, Miss Laarnee?”

“It’s an electric cooperative, sir, and it’s so successful it has attracted the attention of a big private company that wants to have it.”

“Oh, I see,” I reminded myself this is a ‘social activist’ standing in front of me. Is she trying to cause me to react? I am an academic. I am an Intellectual. I cannot be influenced by any provocation, and I am an unemotional person. So even if I’m talking to a ‘social catalyst’ fat chance that it should make any difference to me. I am determined that I would be UNAFFECTED.

“See here, Miss Laarnee, ours is a free enterprise system The freedom to transact commercially is the cornerstone of our capitalist society. That’s what democracy is all about. If somebody wants to buy your company, so long as it pays its freemarket value, it’s a fair deal. Everybody will emerge out of the deal okay, even you. You have to learn to trust the system.”

“I didn’t say they wanted to BUY our company, sir. I said they just wanted to HAVE it.” Miss Laarnee said.

“What do you mean they just want to ‘have’ it? You mean HAVE IT for FREE??” I asked.

“Well, not exactly free sir. They’re going to use the government’s money for the silent acquisition. Right now they are throwing all kinds of stumbling blocks on our operation so that we would fail. They’re running us to the ground until we’re totally bankrupt. And when we become insolvent, they’ll come in to bail us out, looking like heroes. The government will provide the money, looking like a responsible proactive government instead of a state pimp. Meanwhile, the public will celebrate the whole takeover like it was the victory celebrations after World War 2, sir.”

“Why would the government do that if your company is a consumer cooperative, like you said? Wouldn’t the government rather make sure that there be more people involved in the ownership of property?” I asked

“That’s precisely what the Constitution says, sir. But the government agency regulating our company is helping this private group infiltrate our management, helping them interfere with our banking—”

I interrupted.

“No, no, no, Miss Laarnee, the provision that you read says that government must intervene when the common good so demands,” and Miss Laarnee picked up from where I left.

“Because of the government’s duty to promote distributive justice.”

“That’s right,” I said. We were alternating reciting the law you could hardly tell anymore who was reciting, she or me.

Laarnee spoke again “That’s why I said the State was failing to deliver the Constitution’s guarantee, sir, that because ownership of property bears a social function, it should be a higher priority of the government to distribute ownership among many, not concentrate it on the hands of a few “

“Yeah, but you’re not even talking of a FEW, Miss Laarnee, you were just talking of ONE big private corporation that wants to acquire your company?!” I clarified.

“Yes, sir, and not even using its own money but using the money of the government, in the guise of rehabilitating a public cooperative but in reality just making sure the private corporation would be acquiring a well-oiled machine right from day one of its takeover, sir.”

“But that’s deceptive!” I said, “and what ‘money of the government’ are you talking about? The government has no money! The government has no job! I have a job! I am the one who is working here! I pay income tax! That money comes from me and millions of hardworking Filipinos like me who pay taxes! What gives the government the right to give that money to a big private corporation to spend like it’s their money??!”

“Calm down, sir, just chill,” Deema came up to the lectern to offer a newly-opened bottle of mineral water, “you’re letting yourself get affected, sir.”

“I DON’T CARE!!!” I yelled and banged hard on the blackboard at the same time, “WHO DO THESE PEOPLE THINK THEY ARE?? COMING HERE TO BAGUIO AND ACTING LIKE THEY CAN JUST OWN ANYTHING THEY POINT AT!! WHAT DO THEY THINK OF US? IDIOTS LIKE THEM??!”

“Sir, please, you have a heart condition,” Deema pleaded as others came forward too.

“I’M SICK AND TIRED OF ENTITLED RICH PEOPLE WITH NO MONEY OF THEIR OWN, TAKING THE MONEY OF THE PEOPLE TO BUY FOR THEMSELVES THINGS THAT BELONG TO THE PEOPLE, AND THEN EXPECTING THE PEOPLE TO BE GRATEFUL TO THEM FOR SCREWING THEM OVER! I WANNA KILL THESE SANAMAGANS! AND THOSE GOVERNMENT REGULATORS! THOSE CORRUPT BASTARDS! WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE ARE THEY? GO GET THOSE SANAVABITCHES!!”

Everybody was up on their feet now, watching their professor have a complete meltdown. They milled around me, breaking up into talk groups again, reviewing everything Laarnee and I have just talked about.

“We get your point, sir! Promise we do!” Jack from Bauko rubbed my shoulders and back, “tomorrow we’re going to march and protest the planned takeover sir. Deema will work out our rally permit. Deema where are you??”

“I’m down here! I’m holding the professor’s feet, does anybody have ziptie?”

S1L47 - The danger of compulsory SIM card registration

here’s a grain of truth in the common criticism that congressional investigations done “in aid of legislation” have little to show for real accomplishments in the end.

Congress justifies these investigations by saying that you just don’t legislate in a vacuum. You need to maintain utmost relevance by staying in touch with realities on the ground.

That’s interpreting vacuum in a very narrow sense.

Vacuum should not just imply lack of fresh data, to be remedied by more fact-finding investigations. More importantly, it should mean lack of study on the effects of new law on existing laws. You can do that—making sure new law doesn’t reckon only with itself—by simply closeting yourself in the library of Congress and doing old-fashioned research.

Otherwise, you can conduct investigations all year long and STILL be in a legislative vacuum.

Both chambers of Congress have approved on Third Reading a bill that should have been thrown in the trash can on first reading. That bill—and by all indications it WILL become law very soon—requires the registration of all SIM cards, as a “deterrence” to their being used in the commission of crimes.

People commit crimes, not SIM cards. But the moment you make possession of a SIM card an element of any crime, you just created a sweeping new shotgun method of committing crimes. That is the opposite of deterring crimes. That’s the result of legislating in a vacuum—writing law without thinking how it correlates with other laws that exist already.

I’ll give you a simple example. Don’t test drive a car and then NOT return it. You cannot say you were buying it. If you did not return it, you stole it, period. That’s carnapping and it’s non-bailable. Fortunately, only you can commit that crime—so far, it’s not possible for someone to commit carnapping in your behalf.

Enforce the law on SIM registration now.

Here is Kulas, he decides to steal a car. If he went through all the trouble of stealing a car, what’s it to him to steal one more little thing: a cellphone.

He uses the cellphone to set up the test drive appointment, uses it to G-cash a “deposit,” to text several “friends” by randomly entering any 11-digit number with the message, “I have the car, where’s your buyer?” and then sends two text messages to the owner of the car—the first one is “I have the car, the police don’t know anything” and the second message is “ooops, sorry wrong send."

Guess whose caller ID number the owner will report to the police? The police will check the caller’s ID, which is linked to the SIM owner’s home address as reflected on his government-issued ID—two of them, in fact. Scary strong evidences.

The problem is, what Kulas stole is YOUR cellphone with its SIM card registered in YOUR name. Now a warrant of arrest will be issued in YOUR name to answer for the UNBAILABLE crime of carnapping. You will want to find that car even more badly than the police. See the point?

Now multiply that scenario a hundred times—maybe more—because YOUR stolen phone can be used to relay a ransom demand, a death threat, an extortion message, a cyber libelous social media post, an easily “red-taggable” seditious remark, a false report of an adulterous affair to a homicidal husband, a steamy sexually-laden bigamous story texted to a suicidal wife, OR WORSE to trigger a remote improvised explosive device (IED).

After police retrieve the bodies of a hundred dead people from the bombing site, do you think a simple "but I lost that cellphone a long time ago!" is going to get you off the hook THAT easy?

If I gave this as an assignment to my Alpha Section law class, those guys can whip up a thousand criminal scenarios, believe me. Deema alone can probably weave that new law right into the anti-VAWC complex of husbandly crimes and NO MAN will be safe—except priests maybe, the only true “unwed Fathers.”

Stealing the cellphone is the HARDER OPTION for Kulas, as a matter of fact. Why bother stealing a cellphone, when one can be bought for as cheap as 500 pesos nowadays? Just buy any SIM and REGISTER IT under any name you want!

Where does Congress think people buy SIM cards from—the NBI Central Office? No, you buy these bloody SIM cards from the corner sari-sari store where you can pass off even a phony P150-peso bill. What do sari-sari stores know about distinguishing an authentic government ID from a fake one? My authentic City Government-issued vaccination card printed on cheap cartolina with a smudgy inkjet printer looks even FAKER than the drop-dead gorgeous but totally spurious plastic credit-card type “premium vaxx cards” you could get online.

This SIM-registration law “to serve as deterrent to crime” ranks on the same scale of stupidity as that ill-fated proposal to require motorcycle riders to wear jackets bearing the license plate numbers of their motorcycles. Duh? It’s even EASIER to steal a jacket than a motorcycle, sirs.

Or even that DENR regulation requiring the registration of chainsaws. Even if you cut down a pine tree with tender loving care using a registered chainsaw, the tree is just as DEAD, apo.

The cause of forest conservation is not advanced by worrying about people who may or may not cut trees tomorrow (let education take care of that)—but by jailing people who ACTUALLY cut trees yesterday.

This is what I mean by “legislating in a vacuum” resulting in absurdities like:

We confiscate scary toy guns from children but we allow triggerhappy self-entitled adult brats to keep REAL ones.

Now we’re going to clamp down on prepaid SIMS owned by NAMED yokels who can’t even afford to buy proper slippers—and you let blue-collar criminals brandish postpaid “Plan iPhones” registered to corporations exempt from criminal prosecution.

Congress has the gall to pre-impose the duty on ALL CITIZENS to make themselves subject to 24-hour data surveillance, but they can’t even compel WITNESSES in their own investigations to let us peek into their text messages.

We lower corporate taxes so that wealthy people can keep more money, on the theory that wealth will “trickle down” to the general economy. Wealth NEVER trickles down. It always trickles UP—why do you think there are so many Ponzi schemes and pyramid scams out there?

I rant. That’s all I can do. When they publish that “photo-op” of the president signing that stupid law into effect, what I can do is NOT APPLAUD it, but mock it.

I believe it's the right-thinking citizens' duty to make stupid FEEL stupid again.

S1L46 - "Place of birth" The debut of twins Glad and Gladys (Joy and Joyce)

hy not?” I thought. Alpha Section is a small class, only 25 “survivors” by the midterm, 5 had dropped out since Prelims. I can certainly call the rest who have never recited. I’ve already called eleven: Deema, Kata, Juan, Jack, Cabo, Hannah, Hilong, Carla, Joanna, Grippa and Julyrain.

It seems though as if I only actually intended to call 10. Deema started reciting from the day she was born! And nobody called for her to recite back then, either. Anyway, that leaves only 14 ‘uncalled ones’ and it’s a long way to go till the Finals.

So far gender distribution has been pretty balanced, 6-to-4. But I have to admit I’ve been—at the subliminal level at least—partial for calling ladies over guys, especially when I’m not so prepared. Women help me kill time. Guys are absolutely useless for that purpose.

Guys will answer “yes, sir” or “no, sir.”

Ladies would answer, “There are two competing schools of thought on the matter, sir. On the one hand…xxx…”

When you use the Socratic conversation teaching method as much as I do, the difference between managing a guy reciting and a girl “elucidating” is the difference between driving a Toyota Wigo and a Peterbilt truck. Wait for it…

With a Toyota Wigo, you’ve floored the pedal trying to coax whatever hidden horsepower still hasn’t come out of the overheating engine that is already shouting “Mutiny!” Your RPM tachometer redlined about 5 minutes ago but you’re still wondering if you’re actually going to make it to the top of the hill in one piece. That’s a guy reciting.

With a Peterbilt truck, your foot is off the gas pedal and glued to the brake pedal coasting down the hill, trying to scrub off as much speed and momentum as possible, tires squealing on every corner, and wondering if you’ll actually make it to the bottom of the valley in one piece. That is Deema reciting.

I’m NOT saying that women are smarter than men. They just try harder. Men give you their calling cards. Women give you their entire resumé!

So, yeah, I am partial for calling female students to recite, and I realize that THAT is wrong. I’m here to democratize education, to spread knowledge evenly.

Unfortunately, first names are usually clearly genderized. Not every woman is Joey Albert. Perhaps if I read their SURNAMES first, I can fight my bias of steering away from guys names. So that’s what I’m going to do from now on: read their LAST names first. If it turns out to be female, then it’s the fault of demographics, I had nothing to do with it.

“Where is Mister or Miss Ondafli?”

Suddenly angelic music filled the room and a beam of bright light shone down from heaven. There was an apparition that occurred right in the classroom: TWO ladies stood up who looked like colored xerox copies of each other. I felt like that referee at the end of the fencing contest between Hallie Parker and Annie James in that 1998 Walt Disney romantic comedy “The Parent Trap.”

Oh, no--a TWIN in my law class? Seriously??

“Hi, sir, my name is Glad! I’m present!”

“Hi, sir, my name is Gladys! I’m present!”

I have not been drinking (because I don’t drink or smoke) and I don’t do drugs. So I was pretty sure I was not hallucinating.

“Listen, you two. Your own mother cannot tell you apart so just allow me to ask the stupidest question anyway, being that I’m holding only one classcard right now. By any chance, would you both be surnamed ‘Ondafli?’

“Ondafli is my surname, sir.”

“Ondafli is my surname, sir.”

“What did your father do?? Press ‘control-C’ and then ‘control-V’?” I asked.

“We are identical twins, sir!”

“We are identical twins, sir!”

Great. Now I’m not only seeing double, I’m HEARING double as well. “One of you, I’m not sure which one right now, is named ‘Glad’ and the other one is named ‘Gladys’ so the difference between your two names is just two letters, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Actually, sir, there are two schools of thought—”

“AHA!” I said, “one of you is definitely female and the other one is, shall we say, still searching for her identity?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Oh—but obviously the condition is not permanent, it comes and goes. Anyway, you are identical twins but I cannot assure you that you’ll get identical grades. That’s the beauty of life in this world. There are no two people, not even identical twins, who will end up exactly alike. Part of what you become is determined by how you interact with your environment. Unavoidably, you will react differently, as when that environment might include an inquisitive law professor.”

“Like you, sir?”

“Like you, sir?”

“You are destroying my theory right now,” I said, “but I still maintain that every human being is a product of both heredity and environment.”

When you’re pursuing a shaky theory, it pays to have a class smartass to buttress your arguments. So, of course, I thought of Miss Deema Niwala, the girl that might be described in the vernacular as ‘pinaglihi sa Google.’

“Heredity would be explained by the fact that you resemble your biological father,” I began to pitch the theory, “and how would environment come into play, Miss Deema?”

“Uh…if they resembled the family driver, sir?” Deema said, sending the class into fits of laughter.

I banged the blackboard.

“Excuse your classmate, Miss Deema there, she’s the product of either hereditary indiscretion or environmental accident,” I said, sending Deema rolling her eyes clockwise.

“But I’m interested in you two, because you are the first twins I have encountered in my entire teaching experience. And just for the sake of expediency, I think your being twins means there’s going to be a lot of commonality between your biographical information. So maybe just one of you answering is enough, as when I ask where were you born, where are you from, you know—” I said.

“Oh, we were born in different places, sir!” Glad, or Gladys, said.

I let the idea wash over my brain for a few moments before saying, “Oh, how wonderful! You are ‘designer babies’ conceived in test tubes! I get it! Your mother took home one test tube, your father took home the other one. They texted each other every day for nine months asking ‘how’s your share of our common babies coming along?’,” I tried to humor Glad, or Gladys.

“That scenario would still require two surrogate mothers, sir. Neither one of them would still fit inside a test tube after just a few weeks from ‘in vitro’ fertilization,” Deema interjected, finally with some sound legal content.

But it turns out the scenario was not really as ‘high-tech’ as I thought.

“No, sir, it was a much simpler situation that that,” one of the girls spoke up.

“Which one are you?”

“Gladys, sir.”

“Continue, Gladys.”

“Sir, our mother is from Sagada. When she was less than a week from scheduled labor, she took an ill-advised trip by bus from Bontoc, Mountain Province to Baguio City, because she wanted to give birth in the provincial hospital at BeGH. Somewhere before reaching Abatan, her water broke. Fortunately enough, one of the passengers happened to be a licensed midwife and so she helped my mother deliver my sister and me right there on the bus. I came out first, then my sister, we are spaced about ten minutes apart.”

“Owkeey…so what’s the problem?”

“Sir, in those ten minutes of interval, the bus crossed the provincial boundary near Mount Data between Mountain Province and Benguet, so my sister came out in Benguet. I came out in Mountain Province.”

“Wow. So you and Glad have different places of birth recorded in your birth certificates?” I queried, totally amazed by the uniqueness of the situation.

“Yes, sir. My mother and father had a big argument about it when they were filling up the birth registry forms at the hospital. My father wanted to be very accurate about the place of birth, my mother said ‘no, I want it to be less accurate, please!”

“So I take it your father won?”

Glad, the younger twin, butted in. “No, sir! Definitely, our mother won!”

“Your mother won?? You have two different birth place informations, I thought she didn’t want to be such a stickler for accuracy? What would your place of birth be if your father had won their argument?” I asked.

“Lizardo Bus No. 57, sir!” the twins chorused. The whole class burst out laughing.

“Oh, I see…well, BLESS your mother! She is an intelligent woman. I bet she beat your father into submission in their argument, huh?”

“Totally, sir!” Gladys said (now I know, the one standing on the left!) “In fact, she really wore him down that by the time they were discussing what names to give us, my mother told him to give one of us the name Gladys, then ‘bahala kan idiay maysa’ but he was too exhausted.”

“Two exhausted to think of another name?” I asked.

“No, sir. Too exhausted to fill up TWO forms, so he told the registry clerk at the hospital, ‘ikannak man ti carbon paper!’ and he accomplished two forms by just filling up one! Then he took out the carbon paper and just added the two letters “ys” to my name, that’s why I’m Gladys.”

I couldn’t keep it in anymore, I was laughing, and the class as well.

“I love your parents!” I said, “they are such practical people hahaha! So which one of you is the carbon copy?”

“I am sir,” Glad said, “just because I’m younger. Gladys’ form was on top, then my father took out the carbon paper to add those two darned letters!” the younger twin said, with a slight hint of bitterness, sending the class going, “Aaaaaaaw…!”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think both of your names are beautiful—” I said then somebody in the back, I think it’s Mohawk Guy, shouted.

“They’re also both beautiful, sir!”

“There you go,” I said, “that’s your provincemate from Bauko, Mr. Jack Makataruz, clearly endeared with either or both of you. Don’t forget what I said about heredity now…”

It was Gladys who spoke again, “I wish we could share your optimism sir, but it can get difficult sometimes. People would forget our names, but not our unique story. So what they do is work their way backward through the story clues to try to reconstruct our names!”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Sir, they go ‘they’re twins…ok… they have similar names…ok… different only by two letters…uhuh.. and the root of their similar names has something to do with happiness…aaaand VOILA! I remember their names now! It’s Joy and Joyce!”

"Hahaha...instead of Glad and Gladys!" I snickered, "well, it's certainly close enough. But they certainly can't get your surname wrong. I mean it's about as unique as the story of you two being born, shall we say, ON-THE-FLY? And your surname is...uh...'Ondafli'? 'ON...DA...FLI? right?' Am I pronouncing your surname correctly?" I dreaded the answer.

"Not right now, sir, but at least we know that you CAN because you just did about ten seconds ago!"