Free Senator Leila de Lima NOW

itnesses against former Senator Leila de Lima, in the remaining criminal cases pending against her for allegedly being part of a conspiracy to traffic narcotics from right inside the National Penitentiary, have mostly either died, recanted their testimonies, or performed horribly under cross-examination.

Yet, government prosecutors refuse to drop the charges against her for two reasons (1) the prosecution is done presenting their evidence and the recantations of testimony were made by those flip-flopping witnesses after they have already testified, and (2) it is not up to them to order the dismissal of the cases, it is up to the judge.

The prosecutors are wrong on both points.

Prosecutors do not stop working after they have rested their case. Otherwise, why stick around for the presentation of defense evidence? It is not just the prosecutor’s job to refute the defense, it is also his job to preserve the prosecution’s case and make sure it hurdles the test of reasonable doubt. That doubt can accrue at any point in the proceedings as new facts and circumstances intervene.

In dispensing that duty, a prosecutor must act with all candor towards the Court, keeping in mind that it is NOT the job of the prosecutor to ensure conviction. The Supreme Court said it is the duty of the prosecutor to ensure that justice is served—either by conviction or by avoidance of wrongful conviction.

Is it anomalous for a prosecutor to be the one to move for dismissal? Absolutely not.

I have served both as defense counsel and as private prosecutor under the direct supervision of the public prosecutor in many criminal cases. It’s a very common practice to broker a settlement of the civil aspect of the case—meaning for the accused to just agree to pay civil damages to the private offended party right away. In exchange, that private party loses interest in the case, leaving the plaintiff (“People of the Philippines”) with no witnesses.

As a private prosecutor, I would intimate to the public prosecutor, “Pañero, wala na tayong testigo, alanganin na tayong makakuha ng conviction.” No prosecutor is going to insist on jousting with a windmill like Don Cervantes in the Man of La Mancha. He would manifest to the judge, “Your Honor, we’re no longer confident of being able to establish the guilt of the accused beyond reasonable doubt now, since the parties have arrived at a settlement. So to spare the State of unnecessary expenditure, may we move for dismissal…” Some timid prosecutors would, of course, prefer to prod the defense to move for dismissal and they would raise no objection. Same thing.

I admire a prosecutor who does that, take the initiative in terminating a pointless prosecution. And no prosecutor would land in trouble for doing that, because that is PRECISELY how the Supreme Court says a prosecutor must act.

In Senator de Lima’s case, the Government is not seeking damages so there is no significant civil aspect to mind. That is mostly what the prosecutors must mean when they say this case is not capable of settlement. But the case is not impervious to reasonable doubt, either. In fact, the WHOLE COUNTRY now doubts the case against her, as if the case wasn’t shot full of holes of doubt to begin with.

The main witnesses are all drug convicts actually serving time in prison. These bastards will sell their own mothers and testify to ANYTHING to score points towards pardon or parole.

Those that recanted their testimonies did so in spectacular measure. It’s not like they were just trading their testimonies for the privilege of “pleading the Fifth”—meaning sealing their lips from saying ANYTHING.

No, they all said everything they said was the OPPOSITE of their oath to “tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” On the contrary, they said they cut and stitched their testimony entirely out of whole cloth. Everything they said was a lie—not partially, EVERYTHING!

Beyond that, some of them even said not only did they lie, they were TOLD to lie, obviously in consideration of promises that never materialized, including the promise that they would be released as charges against them would be dropped. No one explained to these poor simpletons that they are CONVICTS. Dropping charges against them? That ship has long sailed. Granting immunity from prosecution—prosecution FOR WHAT? Rendering false testimony? Isn’t that an admission right there that they were asked to break the law, for which they are being promised immunity from prosecution so long as they lie first and hope their lie sticks well enough to nail de Lima? It’s like being told to jump out of the airplane, we’ll toss the parachute after you later.

Somebody did a really good number on these witnesses, even after they have recanted. They must have been told that their testimonies are now part of the record. However, barring the possibility of death sealing the lips of the witness forever, those testimonies are not safe. The judge has obviously admitted them in evidence. But they could still lose their probative value in the face of so public a disclaimer. Unless, like I said, if death should seal their lips.

So when other witnesses started dropping like flies inside the penitentiary, the ones still alive stampeded to their lawyers to join the exodus of repentant false witnesses just in time before “COVID-19” got them too.

As things stand now, not only is there reasonable doubt in the mind of the reasonably prudent—there is now COMPELLING DOUBT in the mind of the most ordinary person in the Philippines.

Now here you are, a prosecutor—a product of some of the finest law schools in the country, grizzled veteran of many years of prosecutorial work, went to advanced post-graduate foreign schooling—in other words, in every way an EXPERT of the law.

If Juan de la Cruz with his Grade 6 education can discern doubt in all these circumstances, how can you NOT? What extraordinary power of clairvoyance are you gifted with to know with any certainty that any reasonable judge could witness everything that has happened in the last five years--but especially in the last six months—and say, “Ah. yes, this woman is clearly the devil incarnate! GUILTY!!!”

No, it’s not “up to the judge” to dismiss the cases against de Lima.

It’s only up to the judge to APPROVE A MOTION TO DISMISS--and it is up to the truly courageous, noble, intelligent and sublime prosecutor to MAKE that motion.

Justice can sometimes be this simple: it’s nothing but responsiveness to common sense.*

#FreeLeilaDeLimaNow

The Widely-misunderstood Sub Judice 'Rule'

s it really true that you cannot discuss in public something that’s being heard in court because of the “sub judice rule?”

No.

First of all, there is really no such thing as a “sub judice rule” in the Philippines. We are only borrowing that loosely-interpreted practice from countries like the US which use the jury system of trial. To them it IS a rule. For us it’s “monkey see, monkey do.”

Otherwise, if you read the 1997 Rules of Civil Procedures (our “Rules of Court”) you won’t find any “sub judice rule.”

In a jury system of trial, the court appoints a panel of jurors (common law “judges”) who sit as a specially-deputized commission working under the direct supervision of a regular judge. The two parties—plaintiff (the one complaining) and defendant (the one who got sued)—present their evidence and arguments before this jury, observing all the rules of trial under the watchful eye of the judge.

This jury is called a “jury of peers” because they represent, roughly, the same demographic as the defendant—or as close to it as possible. If the defendant is a minority black woman who is an unmarried single mother working as a receptionist in a bar, for example, you don’t want someone in the jury who is a white female executive who goes to church every Sunday. If you’re the defense lawyer, you would be prudent to assume that she would be a “holier than thou” juror who is likely to have a dim view of the defendant.

To make sure that the jury is composed of people approximating the circumstances of the defendant, they go through a jury selection process where both counsels may either approve a jury nominee or object against one—called a “peremptory challenge.”

The jury nominees are usually drawn from the list of registered voters in that place, ensuring that they would reflect the cultural standard of the local society.

Because of the stringent selection process, you always end up mostly with a jury of people with no legal training. That’s okay, they don’t need to know the law so much. All they have to do is determine for themselves, using their own personal standards, if they’d rather believe the plaintiff or the defendant.

This means in a criminal case, all they have to pronounce is whether they find the accused guilty or not guilty. In a civil case, it’s either they find “for the defendant” or “against the defendant.” That’s it. Just black or white.

It is up to the judge to do the rest. If an accused is found guilty, the judge determines the sentence—the length of time in jail. In some civil cases, as where a “grand jury” in involved, the jury may also decide to award damages, often in the tens or even hundreds of millions. In this case, the judge can either sustain or “temper” the award of damages—meaning he can agree with the jury, or lessen the amount. He cannot increase it.

A lot of hanky panky can happen with a jury, especially with one poised to award a huge amount of damages. So often a jury is “sequestered”—confined in a hotel and prohibited from watching the news or reading the papers or otherwise communicating with people outside. This is to keep their objectivity pure and uninfluenced by mob opinion.

But you can only insulate a jury so much. Some “marites” is going to get to them somehow. So the more practical rule is to prohibit the PARTIES themselves from discussing the merits of their case with anyone outside of the court. No talk, no transmission. The public cannot start yakking their heads off if the lawyers don’t share information.

What they’re trying to avoid is some really persuasive person being able to influence the NON-LAWYER jurors one way or the other. They’re not worried that the judge might be swayed. No, the judge IS a lawyer. He knows better.

When the judge adjourns the hearing (called a “continuance”) before he bangs the gavel he says, “This hearing is adjourned, counsels are advised ‘ex parte comm’ is in place.”

This is how the judge announces that the sub judice rule must be observed. Ex parte communication prohibition means neither party can discuss anything about the case without the presence of the other party.

So, in fact, EVEN with the sub judice rule in place, the parties can STILL talk about the case outside of the court so long as they are both present at the same time to refute each other. What is abhorred is one party grandstanding unopposed, while the matter is still being heard in court—or while it is “sub judice” meaning “under judicial consideration.”

Here in the Philippines, it is WRONGLY assumed that the “sub judice” rule is meant to prevent the judge from being influenced. How stupid is that? It is the job of the judge TO BE INFLUENCED so he can render his decision. He cannot sit on the fence the whole time. He needs to formulate his opinion and the only way he can do that is to allow himself to be influenced by the parties advancing the MERITS of their own arguments.

The judge can listen to the parties in open court, in chamber or even anywhere—including OUTSIDE the court. I have traded arguments with a pañero in front of a judge in the middle of a farm during an ocular inspection. What matters is that while I am talking, my opponent can refute what I am saying and vice versa.

On the other hand, if a corrupt judge meets with ONLY ONE of the parties in a secluded place to discuss the merits of the case giving that ONE PARTY ONLY the unchallenged advantage, then it’s happening at the behest of that judge and no “sub judice rule” is going to make any difference, believe me.

Sometimes, in the absence of a true sub judice rule a Philippine judge may issue a “gag order” to make the parties shut up. That comes under the omnibus (all-inclusive) power of a judge to issue ANY ORDER to aid in the dispensation of justice, or for a more orderly conduct of proceedings. It doesn’t always have to be in the rule books. Many Baguio judges prohibit the use of cellphones in court—God bless them!—and impose fines as high as P1,000 for some really recalcitrant violators (in all Makati courts). That’s NOT in the rules but it’s perfectly valid.

But is the “gag order” intended to prohibit public discussion, especially of a matter affecting public interest?

Of course not. Like I said, a “gag order” affects only the parties (particularly their loudmouthed lawyers). But maybe I should quality a little bit here.

In a criminal case, everybody in the whole country ARE PARTIES—including you, even if you don’t know it. That’s because the plaintiff in a criminal case is “People of the Philippines.” Each one of us is a particle in that aggrupation called "People of the Philippines" so the court has jurisdiction over all of us.

But in a civil case, there are only two parties (in general, there are multiparty cases, of course) but NOT everyone in the whole country is affected.

A court can only order those people over whom it has jurisdiction. In a criminal case, you have to be more careful. Any court can issue an order affecting anyone—by subpoena it can require the presence of anyone, or the production of any record and other relevant evidence.

But in civil cases, no court can muzzle the whole country—meaning people over whom the court has NOT acquired jurisdiction. And no court has, tried, so far.

For example, if you are not part of any of the civil cases involving BENECO—neither as plaintiff or defendant, petitioner or respondent—can you talk about the BENECO cases? Absolutely. Can the court find you in contempt? Absolutely NOT.

This is the essence of being in a FREE COUNTRY.

Then why are some lawyers so quick to say, “You cannot talk about that. That is sub judice!” Is it possible that lawyer does NOT understand the concept of sub judice? Absolutely.

To put a finer point to it, if I were a judge and I did NOT issue a gag order, and then I heard one of the lawyers saying “you cannot talk about that, that is sub judice” I will summon that lawyer to explain. “Counsel, why did you IMPLY that I could be influenced by loose talk?” and if she cannot explain, I would cite HER in contempt for maligning the integrity of the court.*

Why ABS-CBN and ABC5 Can't Merge Forces

irst of all, I am biased because I do own ABS-CBN stocks. I bought them dirt cheap two years ago as soon as Congress denied their application for a renewal of their free-to-air broadcast franchise.

In the stockmarket world, we call them “basura” stocks—stocks nobody wants to buy at the time. Bargain hunters trawl the trading floor (and I use that only symbolically now, because we have NO MORE trading floor) for these unwanted public floats. Stocks in the gutter have no other way to go but up, if you can just wait around long enough.

So when news broke out that the Lopez media machine was deep in negotiations with Manny Pangilinan’s TV5 brand, it caused quite a stir. I’ve heard one implausible speculation after another. Rumor was hot that there’s a MERGER afoot which, of course, is impossible.

In a merger of two companies, only one survives, The other is laid to rest. TV5 is not going to lay down and die. Its TV franchise is non-transferrable, it dies with it. So I don’t see what ABS-CBN stands to gain from merging with a company whose franchise will die precisely because of the merger. Therefore, there will be no merger.

ABS-CBN will not allow itself to die, either. How will it mount another attempt in the future to recover its franchise (or, actually, to obtain a new one) if it loses its legal personality and ceases to be a juridical person in the meantime?

The next speculation was a “bulk blocktime sale” where ABS-CBN would buy large chunks of broadcast traffic—presumably in the primetime segments. They would then use the bulk-purchased airtime to distribute content which they would produce in their own idle production center in Mother Ignatia Street, or in those large live audience studios they had just recently completed in Bulacan before the bad news came.

The limitation here is the “single blocktimer rule” which is kind of similar to what banks call “single borrower limit.” For TV franchisees, they are not allowed to sell more than 40% of total daily airtime to just one outsourcer.

TV5 doesn’t air 24 hours—only 19, from 5:00 AM till 12 midnight. That means it can only outsource up to 7.6 hours, whereas ABS-CBN’s flagship programs in the entertainment category alone (noontime variety, mini-series or so-called “soaps” and a bunch of reality shows, like Pinoy Big Brother, etc.) would eat up ten hours already. That alone exceeds the 40% limit. But any less time would make the whole package unviable.

What really made ABS-CBN content sellable to advertisers are its news and public affairs programs, TV Patrol and Teleradyo, which if combined with the entertainment components would clock about 14 hours. To stay under the 40% cutoff, ABS-CBN has to slow down the earth’s rotation to make one “day” last 35 hours!

So the only remaining option is joint venture—and it has to be a joint CAPITAL venture, not a joint production venture. Early announcements that TV5 would provide the platform while ABS-CBN would supply the content is a production joint venture—it WILL run afoul of the outsourcing limit.

But if ABS-CBN were to acquire a significant block of capital shares of TV5, then programs that it produces—no matter if exceeding 40% aggregate daily airtime—would NOT be considered “outsourced” material. They are being produced by a “co-owner” of the mother studio so it would not fall under the category of a blocktime sale.

I have doubts. Owning shares of stock of a corporation does NOT make you an “owner” of that corporation--only a contributor to its capital and trust funds. From the standpoint of corporate identity, only TV5’s parent company MediaQuest, which is an investment holding company of PLDT, assumes the personality of “franchisee.” Only programs it produces are not considered outsourced—there is no personality called “co-franchisee.” Everything else, including all content brought on board by ABS-CBN would STILL be blocktime material, no two ways about it.

So that privilege speech of Cong. Rodante Marcoleta bitterly complaining about why it seems the “merger” would be allowed to push through despite alleged violations by ABS-CBN was all a waste of time.

First of all, ABS-CBN’s chief nemesis, President Duterte is no longer in Malacañan. He can no longer lean on BIR or the SEC to give ABS-CBN a hard time. So, WHAT violations?

If you ask me, I would quote that famous saying, “there is no stopping a determined assassin.” If ABS-CBN and TV5 have this deal wrapped up as fait accompli, I would presume they have made provisions for neutralizing any pushback from regulators, chief of which is the National Telecommunications Commission.

But think about it. Congress denied ABS-CBN’s franchise because stopping them from airing is the permanent sanction for those alleged violations. So what the legislature meant to do was disallow broadcast by directly making it unlawful to try—THAT is the meaning of a franchise. It’s a document that makes lawful an activity that is otherwise disallowed. If ABS-CBN can do broadcast under the mantle of TV5’s franchise, it is “nesting” within the license of another media company—allowing it to INDIRECTLY do what it could otherwise not do DIRECTLY.

That is the same evil sought to be eliminated by the campaign of the Land Transportation Franchising and Regulatory Board (LTFRB) against independently-owned single (or even multiple) taxi units painted in the company color scheme of a legal taxi fleet, but not actually owned by the fleet operator. They are pretending to be units of the franchisee but they are mere “kabit” units.

Will that not be a violation of equal protection under the law? No, because taxis and TV stations do not belong to the same class. They are apples and oranges. But the principle transgressed by the leniency is about the same.

Fortunately for both ABS-CBN and TV5, Marcoleta did not even seem to have thrown five or ten manhours into studying THAT angle.*

S01E83: Promising amenities is NOT what inspires people

ood evening, class.”

I surveyed the classroom and there were many vacant seats. I hope this slowly developing COVID-19 resurgence has nothing to do with it. One of the first announcements of the new president was the impending full return to “face-to-face” classes by end of November. It would be a shame to backpedal on such a happy announcement. It would mark the first policy retreat of the newly-inaugurated Marcos administration, if that ever happened. It would raise many questions again about his fitness to lead the nation.

Anyway, I thought that would be a good springboard for discussion on the executive branch. Of the three branches of government—Executive, Legislative and Judiciary—the executive branch is arguably the most powerful. If nothing else, it is the one that can act swiftest. The legislative mill is slow to turn, and the wheels of justice turn even SLOWER.

“What defines the presidency and how do we gauge the performance of any president at any given time, class?”

It took quite a bit of time for my junior law class to sink their teeth into this question that I surprised them with last night. Finally, one of the girls from the back row sheepishly raised her hand.

“Miss Carla Mayat-madi!” I happily acknowledged the Tabuk girl gifted with a uniquely self-contradicting surname.

“Addaawan, sir!”

“Right, Miss Addaawan,” I stood corrected, “you never fail to bring a smile to my lips with your Korean-style name, Miss Carla.”

“Korean, sir? I’m from Tabuk City—”

“I know, Miss Yes-no. I meant your name is the quintessential example of the ‘yin-yang’ psyche—but anyway, back to the question. How do we know if a president is a good or a bad one?”

“That’s kind of subjective, isn’t it, sir? What’s good for me could be bad for another,” Miss Carla replied.

“Of course. Evaluation is always subjective, and so is appreciation. Definitely what 31 million voters think would be a good president is different from what 14 million others think. You haven’t answered the question,” I said.

“Sir, I think effectiveness should be the most ideal criterion. An effective president is a good president, and vice versa,” she said.

“You see, that’s the problem with circular reasoning,” I said, “it’s like saying to be beautiful you must not be ugly, but the only way not to be ugly is to be beautiful. So how to do become either?” I followed up.

After staring at the ceiling for a bit, Miss Addaawan finally conceded, “Can I pass, sir?”

“That’s okay,” I said, “it was really somewhat a rhetorical question. But don’t forget that this subject is constitutional law. There’s your clue. A constitution is like an ‘owner’s manual’—”

“Oh, yes! Sir, may I try again?”

“Go ahead, Miss Left-right, redeem yourself,” I gave the girl a second chance.

“Sir, a good president would be one who upholds the constitution and follows its blueprint for governance. A bad president would be someone who goes against the spirit and the letter of the constitution.”

“Can you think of some decisions that a typical president would have to make in discharging the day-to-day functions of his office, Miss Up-down?” I began to steer the student in the right direction.

“Sir, decisions having to do with improving the economy, uplifting the living conditions, reducing poverty, improving peace and order—” I decided to cut in.

“You mean decisions like increasing the budget for food production?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Maybe imposing new taxes to raise money for poverty-alleviation programs like ayudas, etc.?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Or what about raising the daily minimum wage for workers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, see here class. All of these things would certainly make somebody a good president. But the thing is, you won’t find any of these things stated in the constitution. You can read the entire constitution from cover to cover and you will find that it doesn’t really teach a president what to do. Therefore, our earlier theory that a good president is someone who ‘upholds the constitution’ may sound nice—but that is really hardly the consideration, is it?”

Silence.

“Yes, Miss Joana Pis-o,” I recognized the girl from Barlig, Mountain Province.

“Sir, a good president is somebody who can oversee the operations of government, so that it can deliver to the people all the basic services, while creating an environment that would enable the people to enjoy the fruits of democracy with peace, justice, freedom, et cetera et cetera…!”

“Et cetera et cetera??” I growled with widened eyes, “Ang tipid mo naman, hija. No wonder, Miss PIS-O, it now takes 56 of you to equal one DOLL-AR!” I joked, sending the class into guffaws.

“But I tell you what, Miss Pis-o, why don’t you just recite the whole PREAMBLE?”

“Yes, sir… ‘We, the sovereign Filipino people, imploring the aid of Almighty God, in order to build a just and humane society and establish a Government that shall embody our ideals and aspirations, promote the common good, conserve and develop our patrimony, and secure to ourselves and our posterity the blessings of independence and democracy under the rule of law and a regime of truth, justice, freedom, love, equality, and peace, do ordain and promulgate this Constitution.’”

“There you go, class, now you understand why we say that although the Preamble is just a prayer—it’s not really an enumeration of constitutional rights—it’s probably the MOST IMPORTANT part of the whole Constitution. It is the lens through which you look at all the other parts.”

“So a good president if someone who can recite the Preamble, sir?” Cabo Buhan, my pre-Med student wondered aloud.

“More than that, Cabo,” I said, surprising the class that I didn’t shoot it down as a sarcastic remark, “a mediocre president is someone who has MEMORIZED the Preamble, but--” I said, suddenly turning back to Miss Carla to pick it up.

“…a GOOD president, sir, is someone who can turn that prayer into an ANSWERED prayer.”

“Correct,” I acknowledged. “You see class, low price of commodities, cheap gasoline, modern transportation, excellent health coverage, soaring incomes, low crime rate, good housing—these are all things a President should NOT be promising to the people. These are things he is contractually-bound to deliver to the people, whether he promised them or not. What are these again, Miss Laarnee Iwasan?”

“The government’s MINISTRANT FUNCTIONS, sir.” Laarnee said.

“Right. And a President cannot boast that he is transparent, consultative, not corrupt, or that he will pursue an inclusive program of empowering all sectors. Must there be any other way to serve the people?” I gestured back at Miss Laarnee.

“No, sir Those are the CONSTITUENT FUNCTIONS of the Government, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re getting the hang of this, class. You see, we can spend everyday going through a checklist of government projects—traffic management, anti-drug war, etc. etc. But you know class, these are NOT the things that inspire a people. A good life, even a booming economy, is no indication that you are living in a successful country.”

I see a lot of eyebrows upraised.

“Look at it, class. Having the highest standard of living and the most abiding political culture did not stop an assassin from killing Shinzo Abe—” and the whole class went “Ooooohhhh….!”

“If you ask me, I can live even in an impoverished society so long as it is one where journalists are not persecuted, where rich spoiled brats don’t get a slap on the wrist for ‘hit-and-run,’ where true patriots are not red-tagged, where a principled senator is not jailed, where government regulators do not act as asset acquisition spotters for moneyed oligarchs, or parents are not forced to keep their children an EXTRA TWO YEARS in school—” my students were nodding at every point I make.

“I see where Jose Rizal is coming from with his patriotic altruism. Why, if you just give me FREEDOM, DIGNITY and genuine HOPE for the future, I don’t care if I eat camote or banana dipped in soy or sugar ALL YEAR long.”

Silence.

“So next time, demand that your President deliver THOSE priceless things,” I said softly. You don't need him to obtain the rest."

“Class dismissed.”*

Remembering the Reason Why You wanted to become a Lawyer

he Review Season for the 2022 Bar Exam has officially begun.

It actually began a couple of months ago, so I am the one late in writing this. I apologize.

But I still want to give my thoughts about it—hopefully to light the fire in the belly of all our law students now nervously preparing for the biggest moment of their lives.

In the “Age of Google” people have grown too lazy to do what God has given us brains for: think and reason.

When we don’t know something, we just type a question in that tiny dialog box of the Google search engine, click “go” and wait for the results to come scrolling up on our screen.

Usually, we are treated to a smorgasbord of alternative answers galore. It’s all up to us to choose which answer fits our present need the most. But just as usually, also, none of the answers is an exact fit.

So we are left with two choices: to give up and say our research turned up nothing relevant, or to go ahead and use some, many or all of the imperfect answers as components in building a likely answer that is not offensive to logic or reason.

However, such an answer is necessarily composite. There is now no more guarantee that the whole we put together is an accurate equal to the sum of its parts.

In other words, the research will equip us with sufficient data but we must still contend for the answer that WE synthesized ourselves, relying on our own power of reasoning.

THAT was the thinking process BEFORE computers.

Sadly, today the average person is too afraid to get his feet wet, unconfident to assert an argument or, having asserted one, too half-committed to defend it.

Like astronauts on a long interstellar journey in a gravity-free environment, our reasoning bones have atrophied, our logical muscles have lost much of their mass. God forbid, should we arrive at our destination where there is gravity once more, we may no longer be capable of standing up. Our softened bones will be unable to bear our own body weight.

You must not allow this to happen to yourself. Review under the most adverse conditions. It's not just hard--it's MEANT to be. Don't despite the gravity, it's what's building your strength to jump.

During recitations in class, I am partial for the law student who gives a WRONG answer but passionately argues for it. Students who can quote the right legal provision, recite the correct case or quote the appropriate legal maxim in Latin—those are “average” students to me.

But the bold mavericks who color outside the lines with “crayons” of innovative thinking, those who are persuasive even in their ERROR, I see in them the makings of future Supreme Court justices. If they are this determined when they are wrong, imagine how fiercely unstoppable they would be if they were right!

They are the kind of jurists of the future who would plunge headlong into the thicket of legal ambiguities, swashbuckling away with the sword of reason, and hacking a clear path for liberty and justice to tread upon. It is these intrepid few who can push the envelop ever farther beyond the bounds of the known space, into the uncharted void where no one has dared to go—yet.

Most colleges of law in the Philippines—indeed, I would even hazard to say ALL of them—have the same goal: to produce as many graduates as they can who will PASS the Bar Exam.

When we teach law in class, it is with the purpose of preparing our students to answer questions ABOUT law. It is only a passing thought for many of us that we are preparing these students to also PRACTICE law. I confess I think that way, too. But I sense the direction of the wind slowly shifting.

It had to take a Baguio boy, Senior Associate Justice Marvic F. Leonen, to take that bold first step—and instantly he got tremendous pushback from the legal dinosaurs.

When he chaired the committee to conduct the first Bar Exam after the COVID-19 pandemic last year, he pioneered de-emphasizing on naming the traditional “Bar Topnotchers.”

In other countries, like in most states in the US (there are 41 state Bar Exams there, no single “Federal Bar Exam”)—they have the correct perspective about the subject too. I suppose if one tries hard enough, it’s possible to find out who did the best in any state Bar Exam. But in general, they don’t really care. They do not publish or glorify who those bar topnotchers are.

Why should they? The Bar Exam—like any professional qualifying exam—is a LICENSURE test. It’s not an academic contest. You’re not comparing a thousand candidates and ranking them. You want to examine EACH candidate and see if he or she is competent enough to practice law.

That is a black-and-white proposition. It’s either a “go” or “no-go.” Otherwise, when 5,000 people “pass” the Bar Exam, the “Number 1” passer is no more a lawyer than the “No. 5,000” who is no less a lawyer, either.

So the pressure is off, maybe for some if not for all. Of course, there will always be the hyper-competitive elite students with driven personalities raring to rub their rivals’ faces on the hard concrete floor—God bless these neurotic overachievers. They are such as they are mostly because of neurotic over-expecting professors, too. God bless them BOTH.

I could rain on their parade right now and cautiously warn them that under the right circumstances, their unassuming classmates who had to repeat a couple of subjects could still plaster them onto the wall in a real-life court of law. So don’t be too cocky, kiddo.

But, really, I am rooting more for those in the back row. They who have developed the skill of shrinking in size in their seats while I shuffle their classcards. And if you could just catch all their perspiration in a pail every time they’re called to recite, there wouldn’t be a drought problem in this country. Yes, you—lowly average ‘mediocre’ law student you.

Let me teach you how to answer in the Bar Exam.

Before you even go into the examination room, ask yourself the most important question already. “Why did I want to become a lawyer?”

Forget the glitz and glamour, the big paycheck (it’s shrinking fast in this economy, believe me), the flashy car and trendy gadgets requsites to life in the fast lane, or the ego-massaging sound of your own booming voice in the sala of a judge who is your fraternity brod (the only reason you are bold to raise your voice).

That is lawyering Hollywood-style. In my day, it was Perry Mason. In yours, it’s “The Practice”, “Boston Legal”, “Law and Order”, “L.A. Law”, “Better Call Saul” and “A Few Good Men.”

None of those actors answered one Bar Exam question, right or wrong, so don’t look up to their CHARACTERS. Just look to be YOU. But do you know who you are?

You were probably only able to enrol in the college of law because your parents sacrificed unbelievably to pay your tuition fee. Or you are a working student. You staggered late into your evening law class after darting from your daytime job as soon as you bundy-clocked out.

You had no time to cram on reading your assigned cases because failing to prioritize finishing your office reports carries a heavier penalty of unemployment. Your ‘law books’ are all hardbound violations of the Intellectual Property Law. Your test scores in college all just barely made the cutoff—who needs any of those percentage points in EXCESS of 75?

Put all of that behind you now.

At the moment, the Supreme Court has given you a set of facts and OFFERING to be your partner in an undertaking, albeit only a mental exercise one.

The Supreme Court will supply the facts, YOU supply the law and your reasoning. And the only task at hand is JUST PUT TOGETHER the facts given to you by the Supreme Court, and the LAW you will access from your personal database—and use YOUR reasoning to stitch them together.

What database? All the passive information we loaded into your brain when you were half paying attention in class. It’s all there in your brain. However, we did not provide with the SEARCH ENGINE. Because that search engine is YOU.

When you read a question and you feel panic, realize that that is NOT because you don’t know the answer. It’s because a torrent of answers is scrolling up your screen, you couldn’t decide which one is right. They are ALL right. So start building your answer from all those elements.

It’s scary, yes. Because you are DEFENDING your answer, something we most likely failed to teach you in school. We were too busy checking your memory capacity.

All that the Supreme Court is asking you is to submit five or six sentences—seven or eight would be pushing it—that states a legal conclusion, a legal philosophy or principle, or a short enumeration of certain rights. And you get there by applying the SAME principle the Supreme Court itself uses—seeing to it that RIGHT and JUSTICE prevail.

Where do you go to “find” right and justice?

It is a universal creed and a persistent longing in the conscience of man. The yearning for truth and justice is what fuels your legal logic. Reasoning is its language.

Justice resides in every soul. It beats in every heart. It started beating in your heart the day you were born, and it gave you the answer to your question “Why did I want to become a lawyer?”

Just meditate on this. You will do just fine.*

'Steady Eddie' and a Baby Armalite

eptember 13, 1986 in Mount Data Hotel in Bauko, Mountain Province: President Cory Aquino has just handed a bible to rebel priest Fr. Conrado Balweg as a token of peace after signing the 1986 "Sipat" (Ceasefire) between the Government and Fr. Balweg's Cordillera Peoples Liberation Army (CPLA).

As a return gesture, Fr. Balweg and Cordillera Bodong Association (CBA) Leader Mario Yag-ao handed over a native spear and wooden shield to Defense Secretary Fidel V Ramos.

Something was amiss.

There was muffled murmuring among the tightly-selected small crowd in attendance. In fact, almost none of the Cordilleran participants clapped, despite the best efforts of the Malacañan press officers to coax applause. It was a nightmare for the Palace p-r people--even President Cory looked around wondering about the cold response.

After a few tense moments, Ka Ambo (Fr. Balweg's field "call sign") tried to explain to Cory: "It seems appropriate that since we offered a spear and a shield as a sign that we are trusting you, your side must also offer a weapon of war to show that you trust us."

Seriously?

Of course--putting a gun in the hand of a rebel standing just beside the President, what a brilliant idea.

Cory looked at Defense Secretary Fidel V. Ramos, "Eddie?"

"Baby Armalite!" Ramos answered instantly, "the AFP shall give an M-16 rifle as our token of good faith!"

Colonel Voltaire Gazmin, head of the Presidential Security Group, nearly fainted. Ramos turned around, yanked one of his own close-in personal bodyguards, and disarmed the poor fellow of his M-16 rifle. Ramos had time to drop the magazine and empty the chamber before handing the M-16 to Fr. Balweg without a bit of hesitation. It looked to me like Fr. Balweg was even more shocked than Cory was.

It was all unplanned. But it was brilliant spontaneity that would have taken Malacañan's political protocol officers weeks to debate whether or not to do.

But Ramos did his calculations on the spot and made a firm decision that he boldy stood by. It sent a clear and unequivocal message: the Government was serious about ending armed insugency in the Cordilleras. The day wasn't just going to be one of those meaningless public relations photo-ops.

But it was ALSO that, of course.

I was taking notes on my reporter's notebook from the back row. My editor Peppot Ilagan (who, at 5'4" was even an inch shorter than me), flipped out his Canon Sureshot autofocus camera--I am sure the most unsophisticated camera in the building--jumped up and took one shot.

It became that iconic photo of the September "Sipat" with Cory, Ramos, Balweg and Yag-ao in one frame--that Reuters, UPI and Agence France Presse bought and syndicated to all international newsmagazines.

Just before we left the hotel, Ramos who knew almost half of the Baguio media by FIRST NAME, said, "Peppot, of course you will give me a copy of that photograph you took, won't you?"

Peppot said, "I'll think about it."*