Semester 2 Lecture 17 - The True meaning of "Absolute Owner"

ood evening, class,” I literally walked into a cloud when I stepped into the classroom of my Omega section of junior law students.

“What the frog is going on??” I demanded to know. I knew there wasn’t a fire—because if there was, this has got to be the sweetest-smelling building fire I’d ever been in: peppermint!

“This is Shaq’s fault sir!” Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa reported, “his vape pen locked up!”

“His WHAT pen??” I said as I stubbed my toes into the side of the lectern in the front of the class.

“I’m sooooo sorry, sir!” Mr Abraham Mabagsik—Shaq I christened him—profusely apologized, “my vape pen was ‘low-batt,’ sir, but as soon as slipped the new coin battery in, it just started spewing all this vapor, the activator switch got stuck. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take long now. I haven’t replaced my flavor cartridge in two days…”

Sometimes I have to remind myself it’s a whole different world.

In the 80’s and 90’s we used to stagger into law class half-inebriated so we could be bold (or actually shameless) to recite before our “terror professor” for the evening. Each evening was a different one.

Occasionally, one of them came to class FULLY inebriated himself. Have you ever heard a drunk law student carry on a conversation with a drunk law professor? The comedy is not to be believed. NOT to be believed.

Today’s millennials don’t do alcohol and don’t do drugs (contrary to the grim picture President Duterte loved to paint). They do VAPE, e-cigarettes that were like electronic lollipops. It boasts of being an “off-ramp” for people who are trying to quit smoking. I think it’s an “on-ramp” for people who are trying to START.

At least Shaq was right, his flavor cartridge was almost spent, the air began to clear up after 10 minutes. He was still red-faced though, “I’m really sorry, classmates. I’m trying to quit!”

“You’ve never heard of a nicotine patch?” I said, “you stick it on your arm, it releases small doses of nicotine into your bloodstream at regular intervals until you don’t crave for the taste of tobacco anymore.”

“Don’t believe him, sir,” Miss Ursula Bahaghari interjected maliciously, “he just vapes because he thinks it makes him look cool. His problem is low self-esteem, that’s why we gave him an ‘approval patch’ last December!”

“An ‘approval patch’??” I wondered.

“It releases small doses of approval at regular intervals until he no longer craves for approval, sir” Miss Ursula explained, throwing the whole class in fits of guffaw.

“Anyway, I’m getting rid of both, sir,” Shaq said, “I’m throwing away the vape and stripping away the approval patch. I am healed! I’ve been delivered!!!”

“Haa….llelujah!! Haaaa…llelujah!!!” his classmates all stood up and in mock-choir gesture began singing Mendelssohn’s classic concerto.

I banged the blackboard to refocus the class.

“Funny you should mention getting rid of your digital phallic symbol, Mr. Mabagsik,” I said, “because that’s one of the absolute rights of ownership of a property. Where’s Miss Mona Lee So?”

“Present, sir!”

“Put away the VOGUE magazine, Miss Mona, and tell your classmates, what are the FOUR ABSOLUTE RIGHTS of an owner.”

“Uhh…jus utendi, jus abutendi, jus disponendi and jus vindicandi, sir.”

“In English, please…” I said.

“Uhh…the right to use, the right to abuse or destroy, the right to dispose away and the right to recover if wrongfully deprived.”

I can always count on the old gal during recitation. Younger law students struggle with short attention spans when reading long cases. But my two senior citizens, Miss Mona Lee So and Mr. Oskie Cannell, EAT long cases for breakfast.

“Give us an example, Oskie,” I called on the Toronto Raptor from Canada.

“Well, sir, I own a house, sir—”

“You JUST BOUGHT one??” I interrupted him, because I know it hasn’t been—what, five years?—since he came home as a balikbayan.

“I have actually been saving up for years,” he explained, “and I have been hesitating to buy property in Baguio for sometime now. Two or three Panagbengas later, and all that traffic and congestion during the last holiday season, and I finally made up my mind while driving along the TPLEX coming home from a trip to Manila,” he said.

“Riiiiight…” I said, still trying to make any sense of everything he said, “go back to ‘two or three Panagbengas later’” I said.

“Well, around Panagbenga every year, Baguio becomes such a boiling pot. Baguio is such a premier destination for tourists now, the last ten people I ran into today were tourists. In fact, I now only ever run into Baguio people here in class! And all that traffic and congestion, my God!!”” Oskie said, flailing his arms for emphasis.

“Strong reasons to settle down here, huh?” I still didn’t quite get his logic.

“Well, it made me realize one thing, sir. God hasn’t stopped making PEOPLE to this day….but He stopped making LAND a loooong time ago. So I better buy up while the limited supply lasts. So I bought 250 square meters and built an A-framed Canadian log cottage. I own it free and clear, that makes me ABSOLUTE OWNER.”

“Would you sell it?” I asked.

“I suppose if the price is right, sir. Every house in the whole world is ‘for sale’ right now—if the price is right. Make me an offer I can’t refuse and I’ll sign on the dotted line!” Oskie beamed.

“And that demonstrates what right?”

“Right to use and dispose, sir “

“And what about ‘jus abutendi’ have you ever done anything injurious to your property?” I followed up.

“Well, the other day I overbaked my lasagna in the oven watching the Golden State Warriors eat the dust of the New Jersey Nets. I came pretty darn close to burning down my kitchen!” Oskie said in horror.

"Well, if you did it should be a comforting thought to know that you cannot be charged with arson for burning down your own house, so long as your wife wasn’t inside at the time,” I said, throwing the class into chuckles.

“Where’s Mr. Roberto Sigalot,” I looked for my student who stays in his parents’ timeshare condo.

“Here, sir!”

“Robert, illustrate ‘jus vindicandi’ for us, will you.”

“Sir, about five years ago my parents forgot to pay the realty tax on the condo I’m using now. The notice of assessment was tossed away by the security guard at the lobby who thought it was just another one of those promo leaflets. So the City published the notice and levied on the condo’s title. I was the one who discovered the oversight so I rushed to City Hall in time to stop the pre-auction. So I was able to recover for my parents because they always remained the registered owners even after the property became tax-delinquent. We cleared the delinquency within the redemption period—”

“And so your parents said, ‘good work, you little smartass!’ and gave the condo to you?”

“And the rest is history as they say, sir!” Roberto said. For some reason his classmates started lightly clapping and he turned around and took an exaggerated bow.

“Well, that’s ‘right of vindication’ for you,” I summarized, “culminating in the right to blackmail your parents for lucrative gain.” The class laughs.

“Miss Pinky, these four absolute rights of an owner—do they apply to any property?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. In fact, they apply to ALL properties, tangible and intangible. Even rights! Rights can be transferred for valuable consideration, rights can be waived, and rights can be reconstituted or revived in proper cases, if you somehow lost them,” the girl who is always dressed in all-pink said.

“So you’re saying that ‘OWNERSHIP’ is an exacting legal term that carries some very specific implications?”

“Very specific AND indispensable legal requirements, sir. If you cannot exercise ANY ONE of these rights over a thing, then you’re simply NOT its absolute owner under the law, no matter what you say!”

“I see.” I said, then paused for a long while.

“Now, Miss Pinky, if a group of people—let’s say a group of consumers—went around saying they were the OWNERS of an electric cooperative in Tawi-Tawi, or Batanes or some other God-forsaken place, what would THAT mean then?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Miss Pinky halted, “I’m pretty sure it means they care about it, they want it to succeed, they treat is as their own, they’ll do almost anything to protect it, they invest their lives, blood, tears, toil and sweat on it—they could mean a lot things,” the girl answered.

“My question is, can they be considered ABSOLUTE OWNERS of that cooperative?”

“I don’t really think so, sir. I mean they can use its service, but they can’t SELL it. And if its management does decide to sell it, then any one consumer alone, or even all the consumers combined don’t have legal standing to recover it—and they won’t have enough money to buy it back, to begin with.”

“Hmmm…you have a point there.,” I conceded, “so these self-proclaimed ‘owners’ are using the term OWNERSHIP in a totally different context then?”

“They can only mean ‘ownership’ in a poetic way, you know, as a pure metaphor, a figure of speech, sir,” Miss Pinky said.

“But the term, as they use it, carries no legal weight?”

“A couple of grams, maybe, sir, good enough to spice up press releases, and statements and promo leaflets and such.”

“Can I use it as an argument in court?” I asked finally.

“You’ll get laughed out of court, I’m afraid, sir.”* 

Semester 2 Lecture 16 - Sometimes the light at the end of a tunnel belongs to an oncoming train

ood evening, class,” I could hear this unfamiliar buzzing sound faintly in the background as I walked into my Omega section of junior law students.

“Is that the school generator I hear?”

“Yes, sir. They’ve been gunning that thing on and off for the last half hour before you arrived,” Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa answered me.

“Why? Is there a brownout? I hadn’t noticed on my way driving over here,” I said.

“No, sir, there IS current. The regular lights are lit all along the hallway. If there’s a brownout, it’s usually those battery-powered emergency lamps that are lit.”

Just then another student rushed into the room, catching his breath. It was Mr. Abraham Mabagsik—whom I had christened “Shaq”—because of his imposing physique. He looked like Godzilla with a shave.

“What’s the rush there, Shaq? Where’s the fire??” I asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m late, sir. I ran up five flights of stairs cause I saw you walk into the building already. I was hanging out downstairs a little bit watching the building maintenance people tinkering around with the generator. I got curious.” Shaq answered.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I said, “Evidently there’s no brownout, so why are those maintenance people running the genset?”

“They’re not running it, sir. They said they were just letting the motor rotate the moving parts for a little bit because it seems the rains have come early. They’re anticipating brownouts might start happening soon so they want to make sure the generator will work the next time they crank it,” Shaq reported between breaths.

“Do they really have to do that NOW? Who can give a lecture with this much noise in the background??” I groaned.

“That’s right, sir! How can a professor call for recitation under these conditions?” Miss Ursula Bahaghari groused…fakely.

Shaq spoke up again. “According to the guy, there hasn’t been too many brownouts for quite a while because those fellows over at BENECO—they run such a good system! He said the school hasn’t even had to use the genset for over a year and a half now.”

“Riiiight…” I said, “so they want to crank that thing on and off for the last half hour because they were feeling sentimental about the LAST time they had to run the generator?”

“Something like that sir,” Shaq said, throwing the class into guffaws, “they said that generator has seen so little use, they’re not so sure if it will still start!”

“Remind me to tell BENECO that’s how they should write their ad copy—‘do you still remember your generator? We work hard to make you forget ever owning one!” I said, doing an impression of a baritone-voiced FM radio announcer. The class laugh boisterously at my lousy impression.

“Don’t quit your day job, or teaching in the evenings, sir!”

“Well…enjoy it while it lasts,” I said.

“Sir….? What do you mean? Enjoy WHAT while it lasts?” Miss Pinky asked with a knot on her forehead. Her classmates all leaned forward, equally intrigued to hear what will be said next…by anyone.

"Nothing, nothing..." I said dismissively, "just that this genset noise and you guys mentioning BENECO is bringing back some fading memories," I said.

“Sir, were been following your exploits with your Alpha Class last year on Facebook. We were enthralled by the way they ran around Baguio and Benguet infecting everyone with their enthusiasm in defending BENECO...” Miss Pinky intoned.

“It was so inspiring, sir!” piped in Mr. Roberto Sigalot, “how the General Manager Engr. Mel Licoben continued to run the coop’s operations smoothly inspite of all the obstacles the NEA threw his way!”

“Yes, sir!” added Miss Mona Lee So, “and those Magnificent Seven members of the principled Board of Directors, they backed GM Licoben every step of the way, even though they were getting clobbered hard by NEA themselves! That was really amazing!”

“People keep saying ‘Magnificent Seven’ Miss Mona,” I interrupted, “but they hardly ever say their NAMES. I bet even YOU don’t know their names—” but she interrupted me back

“Esteban Somngi, Jeffred Acop, Mike Maspil, Peter Busaing, Jonathan Obar, Josephine Tuling and Robert Valentin!” Miss Mona Lee So ran down their names unflinchingly—and halfway through the list the entire class even joined her in unison.

Well, what do you know. Maybe these “Magnificent Seven” weren’t so anonymous, after all.

Oskar Cannell, the hockey fan from Canada, said “As long as GM Mel Licoben and those amazing BENECO directors are there, the building maintenance people might as well keep the school generator in mothballs, sir. Right now BENECO is running like a well-oiled machine so I quote Mayor Benjie Magalong ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!’ It’s gonna last for a looooong time, this exquisite quality of service sir, you can bet on it!”

I sat quietly. I stared THROUGH the class with a far gaze, for a long time.

My class started getting uneasy. They started looking at each other with quizzical looks, “what’s going on??”

“Sir…..?”

Finally, I looked up and straight in the eye level at my doe-eyed law students.

“I have bad news for you,” I started, then hesitated if I should continue on with what I was about to say. Then I just decided to spit it out, “GM Mel Licoben IS OUT.”

Stone-cold silence.

“Wha---What happened, sir…??” Miss Pinky finally managed to ask softly.

“Apparently it WAS broken,” I answered even softer, speaking barely audibly, “Apparently it HAD to be FIXED…”

“BENECO was broken, sir? And removing GM Mel was the FIX??” Miss Ursula asked.

“I don’t know, Miss Ursula. Sometimes god moves in strange and anomalous ways—and because I am just saying this verbally and not writing it down, I have to give notice to you that I use the word god NOT with a capital G.” I said.

“You’re referring to NEA as a god, sir??” Miss Pinky asked with a worried look on her face.

“Awww, come on, sir, spit it out please!!!” Shaq thundered, “please tell us WHAT ELSE did god DO this week??”

“Well, god appointed five new directors and also made it clear that Atty. Anna Marie Rafael WAS the general manager all through 2021 and 2022. It's just that god thought she did a lousy job, so god fired her too.”

“That’s terrible!” said Roberto Sigalot, “it’s a good thing god cannot do all of that and expect to be able to get away with it. Wait till god hears from the Magnificent Seven! Hell hath no fury like seven angels flashing the sword of righteous indignation!”

“I don’t think so, Roberto,” I deflated his enthusiasm right away. I almost didn’t have the heart to tell him next, “ALL the MAGNIFICENT SEVEN are out too.”

I saw twenty five jaws drop to the floor.

“Whaaatt…???” Miss Pinky asked, her voice cracking.

“You heard me. They are out, and out for good. They cannot run for re-election to the same BENECO Board of Directors or to ANY board of directors in ANY electric cooperative anywhere in the Philippines.”

Twenty-five junior law students couldn’t believe what they heard.

“Is there SUCH a penalty in ANY LAW in this country, sir?? Permanent civil interdiction as an ACCESSORY penalty of removal in an ADMINISTRATIVE CASE??” Miss Ursula shrieked.

“Is that even CONSTITUTIONAL? That is not a PENALTY, sir. That’s a PUNISHMENT—a cruel and unusual one, too!” Miss Pinky added.

“Well, according to god, it’s all hunky-dory. Nothing to it.” I said.

“Yeah, but…who—WHO’S going to be the GM now, sir?” Shaq asked.

“Engineer Ramel Rifani,” I said.

“That’s funny, I didn’t read that in the BENECO website, sir,” said Miss Ursula.

“No, Miss Ursula, they’re not really saying the name ‘Engr. Ramil Rifani’ too loud, the announcement in the website only said god was revoking and recalling Atty. Rafael’s appointment. god did not mention her replacement.”

“Maybe they’re not replacing her, sir?” Shaq interjected.

I turned around to my side to look at the man-mountain Shaq in the eye and stretched out my arm, “Get thee behind me, satan!!!” I said with my best Jesus-voice impression. But this time, my class was in no mood to laugh.

“Oh...” I said, “Anyway, there WILL be someone at the helm because BENECO is now under a Project Supervisor.”

“Don’t tell us, sir---god?”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“This is all preposterous, sir. This is not going to fly, I swear. After everything I read from your posts all through last year, no way this NEA god is going to be able to pull this through, not with those BENECO MCO’s with ‘balls the size of cantaloupes’ as you said last year, sir!” Miss Ursula thundered.

She was joined by Miss Pinky, “That god better be ready….if Miss Deema learns about this there will be hell to pay!” and the whole class joined in muted applause.

I was quiet once more. My class was intrigued once more.

“Siiiirr….?”

“Don’t hold your breath on that one, class. She’s not the same Deema…the first four letters are still good, though.” I said.

“Really, sir…..?” the two girls held each other hands. I could have sworn I heard them starting to sob softly.

“When life gives you lemons—” I was going the to quote a cliché but Roberto jumped in.

“Hurl them as hard as you can at those sanamabitches!!!”

“No, no, no—don’t be like that. No violence. Ever,” I said, “you cannot undo these things, especially now that apparently the MCO’s are all going with this—” again I was interrupted by the feisty Miss Ursula.

“Why do people keep saying that phrase ‘GOING WITH THIS’ but they hardly ever say what ‘THIS’ means? May I recap everything sir and see if we’re all on the same page here??”

“Take your best shot, Miss Ursula,” I greenlighted the volunteer summarizer.

“Let’s see: here’s a summary of the extrajudicial admissions now made by the BENECO, and its MCO’s, especially your valiant Alpha Class, sir. (1) GM Licoben was never really the GM, only the AGM; (2) NEA can appoint a GM directly without passing through the Board of Directors, after all; (3) a Project Supervisor for BENECO is proper, which means BENECO must be an ailing cooperative after all; (4) NEA does exercise the power of direct control and not just supervision as they kept saying all through last year; (5) the Magnificent Seven were not really given a new term by the BENECO members in that Annual Regular General Assembly Meeting or ‘ARGAM’ last year, 2022; (6) those four ‘disloyal’ directors who made life so difficult for the Magnificent Seven were not really expelled by the BENECO members in that Annual General Membership Assembly or ‘AGMA’ in 2021, which means (7) Atty. Rafael was actually correct when she said those two assemblies were fake; (

the standards for qualifications for coop officers are not really that strict if five directors can be appointed that swiftly without any vetting process whatsoever; (9) NEA does have the power to rewrite national law by expanding penal provisions without having to go to Congress (10) BENECO’s bank accounts could be unfrozen by NEA anytime it wants, so there wasn’t even any need for BENECO to have gone to court at all; (11) the member-consumers of BENECO don’t really figure in the decision making in any way; (12) all those nasty accusations of corruption against the Magnificent Seven are now supported by the MCO’s who have dropped these directors like a hot potato; (13) all this hulla-ballo about ‘PRINCIPLED STAND FOR THIS AND THAT’ are just punchlines….how am I doing, sir?”

“Why are you stopping, Miss Ursula? You seem to be on a roll there, continue,” I said.

“I…I…can’t, sir. I’m so sorry---” and Miss Ursula couldn’t hold it anymore. She sat down, buried her face in her hands, slowly broke down and started a muffled weeping.

I let a few moments pass before swallowing hard, and delivering my closing arguments for the night.

“There are no permanent friends or permanent enemies, class. Only permanent self-interests and permanent ambitions. And everybody lies—lawyers, engineers, nurses—everybody. Let that sink in your minds…and in your hearts. Everybody lies, only at DIFFERENT times. It is what it is.

“When people say they stand on principles, sometimes they really mean it--literally. Their principles are REALLY underneath their feet, they are really trampling upon their own values they confessed earlier.

“Heroes? There are no permanent heroes, either. I’m sorry if I subconsciously made you look up to certain empowered men and women who said all the right words at all the right times. I’m sorry I made you believe in those heroes. But now you know heroes can change. There are no permanent heroes---only unending wars."

My whole class fell sullen, and I heard more sobs.

“I will see you tomorrow…please brush up on Chapter Three, Evidence---for tomorrow’s recitation. We will learn how to PROVE what we might have always known….class dismissed.”

I slowly walked out of the classroom. No one followed.*

Semester 2 Lecture 15 - Describing an ugly thing as "ugly" is not libel

ood evening, class,” I walked into the classroom clutching a small Mavic drone camera that was gifted to me by my daughter for Christmas.

It’s the kind that links up with your cellphone allowing you to see realtime aerial video within a 500 meter radius, while controlling its flight using your touchscreen.

“Flying toy drones in the classroom tonight are we, sir?” Miss Ursula Bahaghari asked curiously.

“No, Miss Ursula, we’re not. This is my parking attendant,” I answered, “and trust me, this thing is NOT a toy.”

I could see the look of bewilderment on their faces, so I indulged my Omega section of clueless law juniors in a little tech savvy.

“I used to circle the block numerous times looking for parking. Now I just wait on idle in some corner, let out this drone and locate a spot from the air,” I explained, “cut my gas bill in half, believe me.”

“Wow, sir!” said Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa, “I don’t know too many 59-year old law professors doing that!”

“Wonders never cease,” I said, “and why not? Maybe I can fly this thing around the classroom as Miss Ursula suggested. Certainly makes checking attendance a lot easier.”

I set down my briefcase—and drone—on the table and sat down, then lightly tapped the blackboard to call the meeting to order.

“I assigned you people to read up on cyberlibel. Did you download the list of cases to digest that I posted on my wall?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Although I listed 26 cases, I really meant for you guys to pay particular attention to the Tulfo and Macasaet cases. I hope you got my hint,” I said.

“Those two cases were set in 14-point Arial Black boldfaced italics and underlined font, sir. They were pretty hard to miss,” Mr. Roberto Sigalot said.

“Was it that obvious?” I feigned surprise.

“Not really, sir. We thought the fact that the rest of the cases were set in 10-point normal font must have been inadvertent!” Miss Ursula reciprocated my sarcasm.

“Well, having read those cases, can you think of a question that might be too unfair for me to ask during recitation—” I haven’t even finished my sentence and everybody jumped me.

“ ‘What are the FACTS of the case’!!!” they all shouted.

“Hahaha…! That’s right. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to ask that question. That case is too jampacked with facts, this is only a one-hour class, we don’t have time. Who is the ‘ponente’ of that decision, Miss Pinky?”

“Senior Associate Justice Marvic Leonen, sir. He was the one who wrote the consolidated decision for both cases.” Miss Maglia Rosa answered.

“And from what we’ve learned from all other ‘ponencias’ of Justice Leonen, what can we expect, Mister Sigalot?”

“Sir, all decisions written by Justice Leonen always incorporate a rich historical research, and this case was no exception. He traced the history of libel jurisprudence right back to the Spanish colonial era, showing the parallel development in the growing harshness of libel penalties, alongside a broadening standard for tolerance and protection from libel persecution against journalists,” Roberto recited.

“That’s the beauty of having a justice who is both an exceptional lawyer and a hard-working researcher and eloquent writer all at the same time. I don’t mind saying proudly here that Justice Leonen is a genuine Baguio boy,” I said.

“Wasn’t he your news editor when you were editor-in-chief of the ‘Gold Ore’ during the 80s and 90s, sir?” Miss Ursula queried. Evidently, this girl had done some research, too.

“No, that was his younger brother, Mike Leonen,” I corrected.

“But you and the good justice are contemporaries, right?”

“No, my contemporary in high school was his other brother, Dr. Marlon Leonen,” I said.

“Oh, so you and the doctor both went to Baguio City High School, sir?” Miss Ursula tried to improve her research.

“No, all the Leonen brothers went to SLU Boys High which my parents couldn’t afford to send me to,” I said, “but we spent those years joining the same citiwide interschool competitions—science quizzes, spelling bees, essay-writing contests and such.”

“ How did you both do, sir?”

“As far as I remember, I always came in SECOND,” I admitted, “but we’re not here to discuss the good justice’s family tree. We’re here to talk about how he straightened out our understanding of privileged communication as the main defense in libel for REAL journalists.”

These two cases I assigned talk about the famous columnist Ramon Tulfo and his publisher over a series of articles they published, exposing a powerful “fixer” at the Bureau of Customs.

Long story short, Tulfo was convicted by the RTC, whose decision was upheld by the Court of Appeals, then reversed by the Supreme Court.

“Mister Sigalot, to save us some time, will you just give a general characterization of the Tulfo articles.”

“There were 14 articles in all, sir and they were vicious and ugly. Reading them makes you so angry at the abuse, and the part where Mr. Tulfo described that extramarital affair between the smuggler and the daughter of former vice-president Lau—”

“Never mind that part,” I interrupted, “I’m only interested in how the Supreme Court clarified our understanding of privileged communication. Let’s start with what you said, the writings were ‘vicious and ugly’ continue…”

“Yes, sir. According to the decision, when a journalist’s writing is vicious and ugly, it’s often because he is DESCRIBING something that is vicious and ugly. So libel has little to do with the published content and more with the intent in publishing them.”

“And what is the journalist’s intent in publishing ANYTHING, Robert?”

“It is presumed his intent is to inform the public, sir.”

“Yes, but isn’t that the intent of every chismosa also?” I twitted my student a bit.

“Yes, sir, but there’s a crucial difference. The journalist does it as a function of his role in society and he does it as a matter of privilege not granted to all chismosos and chismosas.”

“Why is this privilege granted to journalists and not to every other ‘marites’--I hope you know what ‘marites’ means,” I followed up.

“ ‘Marites’ is the gossipers code for ‘mare, anong latest?’ sir,” Roberto said, sending his classmates chuckling.

“That’s not in the Leonen ponencia, is it?”

“No, sir. What is in the decision is the important point made by Justice Leonen that without journalists maintaining a perpetual watch on the words and actions of people affecting public interest, the public would be blind and eventually lose their perception of what those interests are.”

“That’s good, Roberto, you may sit down Where’s Miss Mona Lee So…?”

“Present, sir!”

“Pick up from where Mr. Sigalot left off. Why would something that may be libelous for a ‘marites’ be tolerable for a journalist? If you are slandered, doesn’t the hurt FEEL exactly the same, whoever caused it?”

“Yes, sir. But if you are a victim of libel claiming injury, you are invoking redress for a right that is based on common decency—that’s natural law which is universal and undefined. When a journalist has to protect himself from reprisal for doing his job, he invokes constitutional protection. That is positive jural law, which is enjoyable by a targeted community carrying out a particular function for the good of society—the media “

“Bah! Those spoiled brats!” I said sarcastically, “why should only THEY be given that protection?”

“That’s precisely the reason why it’s called ‘Privileged Communication’ sir.”

“You know that decision contains an element often overlooked by judges and prosecutors these days, regarding the common perception about statements made by public officers. Did you notice that, Miss Mona Lee So?”

“Yes, sir. The common understanding is that it is not libelous if you quote remarks made by public officers on a matter of public interest.”

“Why is that noteworthy in this case?” I asked.

“Sir, because Mister Tulfo did not invoke that as a defense, but he was acquitted just the same without using that defense. In fact he could not.”

“Why not??” I asked.

“Eh kasi sir, the customs fixer was not a public officer. He was a private individual, just like the daughter of Vice President Laurel…”

I banged the backboard too late and my class broke out in guffaws, “kasasabi ko lang huwag nang banggjtin eh…!”

“Ay, sorry, sir! Nadulas—”

“Never mind!!” I said, “so what’s the implication of that on the traditional defense of ‘fair report of a public pronouncement not libelous’?” I scowled.

“Sir, it means the meaning of ‘public pronouncement’ is centered on whether the pronouncement is of PUBLIC INTEREST and not so much on whether the person making the pronouncement is a PUBLIC OFFICER or ordinary civilian.”

“Otherwise? If we don’t make that distinction, what happens?” I asked.

“Sir, it would create a class of persons who could never be libeled—PUBLIC PERSONALITIES—and if they could never be libeled, then nobody can commit libel against them---”

“And?”

“And that, in turn, would erase the distinction between people whose writings are covered by privilege communication from those who are NOT.

“Did you get that, class?” I began to wrap up the lesson. “You done good, Miss Mona Lee So, you may sit down. Where’s Mister Oskar Cannell?”

“Present, sir!”

“Oskie, you have the same surname as my favorite Hollywood TV director from the Golden Age of TV in the 80s so don’t let me down,” I chided the Fil-Canadian retiree, “summarize all of this evening’s recitation for your classmates.”

Oskie’s eyes grew even bigger than they already were, and he gave me that look that said, “Why do you pick on me? What did I do wrong??”

After a few moments, he composed himself and said slowly, “When this decision came out, many thought the Supreme Court was being ‘kunsitidor’ to the media. But, in fact, all those accusing Justice Leonen of patronizing the press are dead wrong. Clearly he said even journalists CAN commit libel if they write viciously about something NOT of public interest, because doing so they STEP OUT of the safe bubble that protects them, called privilege communication. It just happens that in this case Tulfo wrote something so ugly about something that was itself UGLY that affects public interest. So now it becomes simpler to determine if something is NOT libelous: it treats of PUBLIC INTEREST, tackled by someone who enjoys PRIVILEGE COMMUNICATION.*

“Wonderful, Oskie….CLASS DISMISSED.”*

Semester 2 Lecture 14 - The Libel case that made Time Travel Possible

ello, Sir! Happy Three Kings!!!”

I looked up and two big beady eyes stared back at me through thick prescription glasses that belonged to Miss Ursula Bahaghari, another one of my feisty junior law students from the Omega Class.

“Oh, hello there, you…you…”

“Miss Bahaghari, sir…Ursula! Omega section..? You don’t remember?”

“Of course I do!” I said, “Miss Ursula Bahaghari--she who would rather drive 3 hours from Caloocan to a law school in Baguio City than drive 4 hours from Caloocan to a law school in Makati! How can I forget?”

“What are you doing here in our library, sir? Our classes don’t resume until Monday?” she asked.

“I might ask you the same question, Miss Ursula. In fact, I asked the same question from your classmate, Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa, yesterday when I ran into her right here inside this library, too,” I answered.

She smiled. “As I understand it, sir, she ran into you.”

“Whatever,” I retorted, “so what is it about you people all coming to school before you have to yet? Did you form a ‘Nerdy Law Students Geeky Club’ or something?”

“Bingo!” said Miss Ursula.

“YOU DID??” I shrieked.

“Well, it’s not exactly a club, sir. We’re all aware that the school doesn’t allow fraternities in the college of law. So what we formed is not exactly a greek letter society. It’s more of a coffee-drinkers group, you know. Our professor always walks into class with a styrofoam cup of cappucino, so let’s just say ‘like teacher, like students’?”

I didn’t realize my students noticed that I always have a cup of coffee. Coffee is part of my thought process, what can I say? It’s also a more reliable timer than the school bell. At my rate of coffee-sipping, a cup of cappucino lasts exactly one lecture long.

“A ‘coffee-drinkers group’…riiiight,” I said sarcastically, “and you meet here in the library where you’re NOT allowed to bring in any food or drinks, that’s….that’s just perfect.”

“Oh, no, sir we just meet up here and then we go to the park after buying cheap take-out coffee from McDo—you know that ‘budget meal’ thing cause we’re all on student budget, you understand. We hold our discussions sitting on the grass in Burnham Park al fresco. Also, we stick to our ‘session rule.”

“Which is?”

“No meeting will last longer than it takes to sip one cup of coffee!”

“Like teacher, like students…” I murmured.

“Totally!” Miss Ursula bubbled, “and guess what we discussed today, sir? Never mind, you'll never guess. We talked about that Dane Ducayag ‘freak cyberlibel case’ just because Miss Pinky said you were planning to lecture on cyberlibel on Monday!”

“I did mention that to her yesterday,” I confirmed, “so you held your own recitation TODAY about a lecture I have NOT YET even delivered?”

“Sure! What’s wrong with that, sir? The Dane Ducayag case demonstrates that TIME TRAVEL is possible!” the bespectacled girl enthused.

“I’m sorry, you must forgive me, I don’t know the Dane Ducayag case. So go ahead, Miss Ursula, give me ‘FACTS’ and ‘HELD” I said, faking a recitation call.

“You don’t know Dane Ducayag, sir? I thought Miss Pinky said he was one of your students in Alpha Class last semester…?”

“I know the fellow, I don’t know his case—” then the girl interrupted me before I could finish.

“Here are the facts, sir. This woman sued him for cyberlibel because he posted something about her she didn’t like. So the prosecutor indicted him for two counts of cyberlibel.”

“And--?”

“And WHAT, sir? That’s it!””

“Miss Bahaghari, when I taught your class how to digest cases, I didn’t tell you to cram it into two useless sentences. At the very least, your summary should include a timeline of the incidents of the case.”

“Timeline! Right,” Miss Ursula pulled a chair and sat across me, “let’s see--Complaint was filed in NOVEMBER, subpoena was sent by mail in MARCH, counter-affidavit was filed in JANUARY so the case was resolved last DECEMBER.”

“All of these in the same year, 2022?”

“All except for the counter-affidavit, sir. That was filed just this new year, 2023.”

“Uh-huh…” I reacted glumly at first and waited for a few dramatic seconds before exploding.

“ARE YOU MOCKING ME, MISS URSULA??! Do you realize that with your timeline, you went BACKWARDS in time TWICE??!”

“Uh-huh,” the girl was undaunted by my mock anger, “it’s not MY timeline, sir. Those are the facts, based on the Resolution.”

“The Resolution that came out last December?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Miss Ursula, you’re a third year law student. So I trust that you know WHEN a Resolution is supposed to come out?” I said half-questioningly.

“AFTER the preliminary investigation, sir.”

“And I trust that you know WHEN a preliminary investigation is conducted?” I asked again half-questioningly.

“AFTER the respondent has filed his counter-affidavit, sir.”

“And I trust that you know when a respondent is supposed to file his counter-affidavit?”

“AFTER he receives the Subpoena, sir.”

“You mean the subpoena that was mailed in MARCH?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, do you know if Mister Dane Ducayag filed any counter-affidavits IN MARCH to answer the complaint against him?” I asked trying to make an obvious thing even more obvious.

“No, sir, he did not.”

“Why NOT?”

“Because back in MARCH, there was NO COMPLAINT against him yet, sir. The Complaint was filed ONLY IN NOVEMBER—EIGHT MONTHS LATER.”

“Uh-huh. So Mister Ducayag did not answer LAST MARCH a complaint against him that DID NOT YET EXIST?” I croaked in disbelief.

“I know, sir. It was very irresponsible of him to ignore a NON-EXISTENT complaint!” Miss Ursula said, feigning disdain.

“Stop it, Miss Ursula. You don’t wear sarcasm very well,” I said, “so I will presume that you all realize the case resolution is void. So can you and your classmates in your coffeegroup ‘session’ more or less predict what questions I might ask on Monday’s recitation?”

“A little bit, maybe, sir--Miss Mona Lee So thinks you might ask about administrative remedies with the Department of Justice, like a Petition for Review---” I had to interrupt.

“Wait, wait, wait—did you say Miss Mona Lee So? She was present in your geeky club meeting??”

“YES, sir! Oh, we all love the old girl! She paid for all our coffee, I’ll have you know…”

“Really now?” I was pleasantly surprised, “well now I understand why you sit on the grass, no climbing any stairs, huh?”

“Nope, no stairclimbing, sir. Just sitting on the grass, as low to the ground as possible, hihihi…” the girl giggled.

“I’m glad—I mean, I really appreciate you young turks thinking of Miss Mona Lee So’s sake. You have to take it easy on her, don’t make her walk too far, either.”

“Oh, she walks really good, sir! I mean, imagine the walk from McDo-Session Road to Burnham Park, that’s quite a hike. It was even Manong Oskie who was complaining louder!”

“WAIT! Mister Oscar Canell, the Fil-Canadian retiree was with you??” I was even more surprised.

“The club doesn’t discriminate against senior citizens, sir. We see them as deepwells of wisdom and sobriety, and they’re always so sweet towards us the younger generation, always there to guide us, inspire us, correct us when we’re wrong, cheer us up when we’re correct, telling us to never give up on anything but to always keep on trying--—”

“Paying for your coffee…”

“Hahaha yes, sir! These old guys would NEVER let us bring out our wallets! ‘Over my dead body!’ Manong Oskee would always say “

“Well, let’s face it, these oldies have the moolah!” I said, “so with those two old turkeys helping you out so much, tell your classmates to expect me to include the topic of BAIL in Monday’s recitation then!”

“Sure thing, sir,” said Miss Ursula, “oh, and the class wanted me to relay a message, by the way…”

I knew it! This girl didn’t just “run into me” in the library. She and Miss Pinky are in cahoots! The Fil-Italian brat knew exactly where I would be, so she sent Miss Piggy here to track me down.

“Alright, what’s the message?” I sighed.

“Well, sir, since Mister Dane Ducayag was your student in Alpha Class last semester, me and my classmates---”

“MY CLASSMATES AND I!!” I growled.

“Right, sir, my classmates AND I were wondering if you could bring him to class on Monday! We’re all excited to meet him in person: the Great Dane Ducayag, OUR HERO!!!”*

Semester 2 Lecture 13 - New Year 2023 greeted by cheap libel cases

Hello, Sir! Happy New Year!!!”

I looked up and I saw my first pleasant sight of the year.

“Oh, hello there, Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa,” I returned the greeting to my Fil-Italian junior law student from Omega Class.

“Fancy running into you in the library like this, sir!” she gushed.

“Well, I wanted to start my year with some solitude and to do that I needed a place that is soulfully quiet, a place that many people AVOID. So I thought what better place than the law school library?” I said with a mischievous wink. “And fancy finding you here too, Miss Pinky, you guys aren’t supposed to be back until Monday.”

“This was the best place for me to be too, Professor, I just spent the entire season of ‘peace’ immersed in the noisy holiday chaos of Baguio. I couldn’t wait for school to re-open even if there were no classes yet. I had to come here, the only place I know where a lady at the door REQUIRES you to turn off your cellphone,” said Miss Pinky.

“Riiiight…cellphones off,” I said while discreetly turning mine off under the table, “I gotta give it to you, though, hija. Even under the best circumstances, I rarely do find my students spending enough time in here.”

“You shouldn’t take offense, sir. The ‘library’ to my generation means Google and Playstore. Many of us have not even spread open a volume of SCRA just because there’s hardly any need to anymore. We have all the decisions of the Supreme Court in our cellphones now…!” said the freckly-faced Italian mestiza.

“SCRA…the Supreme Court Reports Annotated,” I sighed. I just had to say it out loud because I don’t hear it said often enough anymore.

“Aaaah, I’m a dinosaur, hija. You’re looking at a real live T-rex come down to earth cause his wings are weary,” I said.

“You mean a pterodactyl, sir. T-rexes didn’t fly. If they did, most of them would have barbecued themselves flying over all those volcanoes of the period, the Jurassic extinction would have happened much sooner,” she said with a giggle.

“Sooo…you spent the Christmas holidays in noisy Baguio, did you say Miss Pinky?” I pivoted away from the Jurassic topic, “I’d have expected you’d be joining your Filipina mom and your Italian dad in Milan…”

“Actually, it’s Messina, sir. It’s just a small city northeast of Sicily,” she corrected me, “no, I spent Christmas here in Baguio alone, sir. I wanted to FEEL Christmas, and there’s no other place on earth like the Philippines where you can feel Christmas from September to January!”

“You’re right about that,” I conceded, “but I’m surprised you didn’t think Christmas could be ‘felt’ better in Italy, where Rome is, where you have the Vatican--you know, Saint Peter’s Square on Christmas morning, where the Pope gives his traditional ‘Joy to the World--orbi et urbi—’ message?”

“Baliktad, sir. It’s ‘URBI ET ORBI’ and it doesn’t mean ‘joy to the world’ either,” she corrected me, “It’s just a short salutation for ‘to the City of Rome and to the rest of the world,’ which I find rather condescending. It’s like saying there are only two classifications of cities in the world—Rome and OTHERS “

“You know,” I looked the girl in the eyes, “I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Guiseppe Maglia Rosa realize what a smart daughter they raised.”

“Hihihi,” she giggled, “actually, sir, I just call my dad ‘Joseph’ which is the English equivalent of ‘Guiseppe.’ Somehow, I couldn’t call him Guiseppe without picturing myself as Pinnochio!”

“Well, now that you mentioned it, I can’t believe I always thought of the story of Pinnochio as an AMERICAN creation all this time, when it’s actually Italian pala,” I said.

“So…sir,” this time SHE is pivoting from the topic of fathers, “what’s in the docket for our class this new year?”

“Well, I thought I might start off on Monday with a lecture on CYBERLIBEL because it seems to me some self-entitled individuals have found a way to make people hate the law even more, not that they don’t hate it enough already,” I said.

“I know what you mean, sir,” Miss Pinky said as she pulled out a chair to sit across me. There goes my afternoon of peace and quiet, I thought, “I read about the Frank Cimatu case during the Christmas break, sir. I still can’t believe it takes THAT LITTLE to get a conviction for cyberlibel.”

“Good. So you read Frank’s post and you agree it’s not libelous?” I asked.

“Oh, it think it was libelous, sir.”

“Miss Pinky, it’s very rare that a student confuses me with what she says, and you just joined that club. Would you care to explain your ambivalent position?”

“Well, sir, it’s not like Mr. Frank Cimatu wrote a whole article about it. He just wrote a one-liner post that said some public official got rich while in office and while there was a bird flu epidemic. Both of those statements are true. You lectured to us before that the TRUTH is NOT a defense in libel. Just like if you saw a blind person walk into a wall and you said, ‘hahaha! Ano ka ba, bulag??’ it’s libel. And even if you proved that the guy is in fact blind and he did, in fact, walk into a wall—in short, you were telling the truth—but if your utterance made people laugh at him, it is libel, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you wrote it down and published it, yes. When you shove my own lecture back in my face like that, how can I disagree? But for a moment there I thought you were feeling very critical about the fact that it took so little to get convicted for cyberlibel…”

“I am, sir. I’m saying Mr. Frank Cimatu did nothing different from what hundreds of other journalists do everyday—which is to hit public officials, and hit them hard. It shouldn’t matter if they’re telling the truth or not, since falseness of allegation is not an element of libel. It should only matter that some people should be mocked and some people shouldn’t. I think the courts should take a bold proactive stance that some people are just ‘libel proof.’ If you’re a fisherman, I don’t think you should be allowed to complain that you get wet a lot.”

“So you’re saying Frank hit someone who deserved it? And that someone had no business filing libel complaints?”

“I don’t know if that official deserved it, sir, but one thing is sure: Mr. Frank Cimatu didn’t mock a blind guy who walked into a wall. He took a potshot at somebody whose income rose by WHATEVER means while in office. And you know what the height of the irony about the whole thing was, Professor?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me,” I sat back in my chair.

“The guy was Secretary of Agriculture, for crying out loud! If anybody should be able to understand the meaning of 'ONION-SKINNED,' the sanamagan should!” Miss Pinky said sheepishly, big stupid grin on her face like she had just body-slammed a Cabinet secretary.

I thought hard and long about it, then finally I leaned forward across the table, “Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa, just because you pointed out how little it takes to be convicted for cyberlibel, I’m going to lay down a rule that I want you and all your classmates to observe from now on…”

“What is it, sir?”

“I am the ONLY one,” I paused for emphasis, “who is allowed to use the word ‘sanamagan’ in class from now on, do you understand??”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now run along now, wherever you are in the Philippines, you gotta know that these walls have ears!”

“Hahaha, I know what you mean. Happy New Year again, sir!!”

“Happy New Year to you, too, hija!*