"x x x.
Men, by definition, are imperfect beings; disputes will undoubtedly arise in our interactions. We have crafted laws to settle these disputes in a just and orderly manner—after all, in the absence of these laws, we would be reduced to the law of the jungle, where might is right. As such, the Law embodies the consensus of society—a consensus on how we must all interact and treat each other, with fairness and justice.
If justice is defined as doing right by all, then it must be based on truth. Whether as advocates or judges in the settling of disputes, lawyers like you are very much involved in the process of meting out justice—a process that ultimately relies on the search for truth. But when truth is put aside in favor of the position the client wants to take—when the search for truth becomes optional, as opposed to the only path we must take, I have to ask: what would happen? What would happen to justice? If the search for truth is no longer the focal point of interest in settling disputes, can a true and lasting resolution of disputes take place?
My family has had experience with this. One year before the declaration of martial law, Mr. Marcos accused my father of several crimes. He did not, however, bring my father, as you all know, to a civil court—Mr. Marcos brought him to a military court that he created a year later after accusing my father, when he had already declared martial law. In my dad’s case, the accuser; the appointing authority of the judge, which was the military commission; those of the prosecution; and even of the defense; and the final reviewing authority for the outcome of the case were one and the same: Mr. Marcos. On paper, it would seem that they had followed all the appropriate legal procedures. But does anyone doubt the impossibility of obtaining justice in that situation? Does anyone doubt that this court was created to carry out only the will of the dictator, and not to search for the truth?
I have never been a formal student of law, and whatever law degrees I do possess currently are all honorary. But, like you, I am duty-bound to uphold the law, and a copy of the Constitution is always within my reach. And it has always been clear to me that, because the law is created by men, it then follows that the law is supposed to be in the service of men—that our laws, in providing the rights and obligations of all, are supposed be in the service of the Filipino people.
This makes me wonder, then, about the existence of this much-abused saying (and I’m sorry if I mispronounce it, as there were so many different accents when they used this phrase): dura lex, sed lex. The law is harsh but it is the law. Some of my colleagues in Congress sounded like broken records, with how often they repeated this maxim. Just as often, I wondered: what about the times when a rigid obsession with the letter of the law comes at the expense of the people the law was meant to serve? What about the negative consequences of an unyielding focus on the letter of the law? In the application of the law, is it not true that both the letter and the spirit of the law must be given importance? After all, the spirit of the law is defined as its intent, and all laws—if they are rightful laws—are intended to serve man and improve his lot in life. When, in adherence to the letter of the law, the spirit of serving man is lost, then, I submit, there is something wrong with the entire process.
x x x.
And how can we forget that dark period in our country’s history, when a man succeeded in becoming the supreme law of the land? It was during Martial Law when some lawyers helped Mr. Marcos craft his presidential decrees and other utterances in order to give them a veneer of legality—when these decrees, in fact, only served one man and his cronies, and allowed for the abuse of so many Filipinos, my father included. Indeed, when the observance of said law hampers the progress of man, then it is the law that is served—and not man.
As legal practitioners, you are faced with difficult situations all the time—moments where your decisions can set a precedent for others. These kinds of situations have become very familiar to me, especially today, in my job as President. Perhaps you will allow me to share with you a simple method I use whenever I am faced with challenges: All I do is ask myself, “Does this redound to the common good?”
I find that no matter how complex or convoluted the situation, asking myself this question illuminates the path I must take—a path that would allow me to do what is right, uphold justice, and help my countrymen, not just sometimes, but all the time. If you are a good and able lawyer, then I hope that you already ask yourself this question on a regular basis. After all, we do not have to go further than the past 25 years to see so many cases in which members of the legal profession stood tall as advocates of right and justice—we do not even have to go further than the Philippine Bar Association.
Looking back on your long history, it seems that the PBA has made it a tradition to safeguard and uphold the rule of law. You were a voice for the oppressed during Martial Law, as you investigated human rights violations, and even the assassination of my father. You were likewise a voice for the restoration of democracy and the rule of law after the People Power Revolution, when you supported my mother’s promulgating the 1986 Freedom Constitution, which paved the way for our present 1987 Charter. Even during the time of my predecessor, you did not waver, remaining a sober and responsible guardian of our Constitution—even taking a lead role in questioning the midnight appointments of my predecessor.
You were right to be so concerned. In our system of government, there is a separation of powers among the executive, judicial, and legislative branches—a built-in system of checks and balances that, most would agree, relies on an objective and nonpartisan Supreme Court. Unfortunately, this objectivity was subverted when Mrs. Arroyo appointed then-Chief Justice Corona in what many in the legal profession, including the Philippine Bar Association, believed to be improper.
In fact, when the Supreme Court issued a ruling validating her appointment, might I ask: was there already a justiciable controversy, warranting such an immediate ruling of the Supreme Court? Of course, all of you are familiar with the principle of “justiciable controversy ripe for judicial determination.” Even if Mrs. Arroyo did not appoint a new Chief Justice, the next President would still have had 45 days, or half of the period prescribed by the Constitution, to appoint a fitting candidate to the position. There was no conflict or controversy yet, but the Supreme Court at the time saw it fit to decide. I am sure a lot of you looked at that decision, and I am just as sure that I was not the only one who wondered whether or not they rewrote the Constitution in a manner not approved by that very same Constitution.
The entire nation became a witness to the consequences of this midnight appointment when it became clear that Mr. Corona was in the Supreme Court to protect the interests of the woman who had appointed him. As if his integrity were not already compromised, while in office, Mr. Corona also failed to display the highest integrity demanded of his position when he did not declare over 98 percent of his assets in his Statement of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth [SALN].
x x x.
In this case, his actions posed a troubling question: if the truth—or if the law—is changeable, ephemeral, and uncertain, does it redound to anyone’s benefit? In these instances, Mr. Corona had already failed the very people he had sworn to serve and the law he had sworn to uphold.These failings became even more apparent in the indecision that the Supreme Court displayed under Mr. Corona, as it contributed to judicial flip-flopping in cases like that of the Flight Attendants Association of the Philippines [FASAP], and of the League of Cities of the Philippines [LCP], where it reversed earlier decisions. Apart from corroding judicial certainty, the flip-flopping of the Supreme Court in these instances created complications that will not be easily resolved. With all these reversals, what form of redress was available to the flight attendants under FASAP, or to the affected municipalities and cities? Under Mr. Corona, the Supreme Court’s apparent willingness to change the institution’s earlier decisionsset a dangerous standard for litigation that, seemingly, could not reach a conclusive end.
The decision to undergo the process of impeachment was not one that we made lightly. Often, we wondered: how many lawyers would want to side with us—to side with justice and the rule of law—knowing that they would have to go to the Supreme Court at various stages in their career? How many lawyers would willingly risk their source of livelihood in such a manner?
x x x."
