Sunday, June 18, 2006

A Speech I delivered at the 70th Anniversary of the Ateneo Law School

Good evening friends.


A colleague of mine who has family in Lebanon emailed me last night about what happened. Five days ago, Israeli Jet fighters indiscriminately bombed Lebanon in response to the kidnapping of two of their soldiers. 60 Lebanese are dead and 150 are wounded (and my friends, the next time you read the papers and find the word wounded, this does not mean people with chicken scratches… these include people who have had their legs amputated or their eyes gouged out). Men, women, and children. No exceptions.


For those of you who are familiar with the principle of proportionality, this is definitely not it. Israel receives $3 billion in military aid from the United States every year. Their military technology is second to none. Nukes, warplanes, satellite capabilities… believe me, if you see it in the movies, the Israelis have it. Lebanon has old guns, old rockets and a few helicopters that were used during the Vietnam War. Go figure.


Many Lebanese are fleeing to neighboring countries as refugees. This happened five days ago and the fires in Lebanon have not yet been extinguished completely.


Why am I talking about a country hundreds of miles away? On the night of the 70th Anniversary of the Ateneo Law School why on Earth am I talking about war? Because, my friends, I want to clarify what we are celebrating tonight. It does not matter if we call ourselves Ateneans. It does not matter if we are Christian by name. It does not matter if we are Filipinos by birth. These things will not matter if we do not choose to be human first – if we do not feel the plight of our fellow human beings, empathize with their suffering and choose to respond accordingly. Was this not the same desire of San Ignacio and San Francisco Xavier?


I have been working with the Ateneo Human Rights Center for almost three years now and I can strongly say that these years have been the most difficult and the most precious moments of my life. My work has brought me to the mountains of Mindoro and Tarlac, to the jails of Metro Manila, to the remotest barrios of Northern Mindanao and, most recently, to the former border between East and West Germany. There are many places that need us – many voices that call upon us. There is human suffering in so many places and we have a choice on whether to respond to them or to ignore them completely.


Human rights is about facelessness. It is about extinguishing the borders and differences that make us unequal in our rights. It is about recognizing that we are all human beings complete in dignity. If you had noticed, at the start of this speech I did not greet anyone by the titles that we have grown so accustomed to: Attorney, Doctor, Professor. These are not titles of respect. These are mere titles of classification – formalities. People who address us as such do not necessarily respect us; chances are they do it out of habit or because they are expected to. These titles tell people what studies you finished not who you are. The only title that gives genuine respect is what I used to address all of you tonight: friends.


So my friends, on this 70th Anniversary, we honor our school because it has given us the opportunity to be great people. The key word here is opportunity. To say that every Atenean is great is just plain ignorance. Not every Atenean is a Bobby Gana or an Ed Nolasco. We have Ateneans who cheat on their taxes, bribe government officials, or manipulate election returns. There are Ateneans who lie, murder and rape as if they were uneducated and uncivilized. The word Atenean is, likewise, just a title that describes where you studied. Never be fooled by titles.


Our school is great because it offers us a shot at greatness. For those who choose not to take this chance, they have only themselves to blame. For those people who have taken this opportunity to become greater than mere titles, this night is for you.


How does one become great? Do what you do best no matter what it may be. We can be good at so many things but we can only be excellent in a few. Find those talents, skills or dreams you are superior in and lose yourself in them. Strive to outdo yourself every single day.


Not all of us can be Justices of the Supreme Court. Not all of us can be working for the United Nations or Amnesty International. Not all of us can be priests, pastors, imams or religious leaders. And I am very sure not all of us will turn out to be practicing lawyers.


Find your place. You may be an excellent debater… go, compete and argue your heart out. If you love books, you might want to start writing one of your own. If you excel in sports then try going pro. Every single day, we are tempted to forego the excellent for the good. So much time is wasted in doing good. Like I said, there are many people and places that need us. In this short lifetime, we just have to find where we are needed the most and stay there. We each can find our own ways of inspiring people and changing the world. Pray through the work that you do and do it with magnificent passion. That, my friends, is heroism. That is what the Atenean ought to be.


If ten or twenty years from now, you become role-models in your respective fields and someone asks you if being an Atenean had anything to do with your success. By all means say yes. But don’t forget to tell them that: Ateneo gave me the shot and I took it.


Have a good evening.