To be published in Cebu Gold Star Daily
No law shall be passed abridging the freedom of the press.
- THE 1987 PHILIPPINE CONSTITUTION
The Philippine Senate is in the process of reducing our rights as members of the press. It recently approved Senate Bill No. 2150, which gives any person the so-called ‘Right of Reply’. The proposed law criminalizes media practitioners and shuts down their operations if they fail to publish the reply of their subjects. It commands that the reply should have the same space, time and prominence as the original article or news segment. The reply must also be published within a number of days after the original article is published. All this must be made free of charge.
This law is so wrong on several levels.
First, it reduces the freedom of the press to navigate through the truths they wish to expose to the public. The obligations imposed by this bill are an artificial deterrent against truth-telling. It sends a message to media that revealing bad news about a person or group of persons will probably cost them double compared to talking about other mundane things.
Second, it corrupts the judgment of media by forcing them to base their actions on avoidance rather than fearless pursuit. It is the worst form of censorship pretending to be some form of reputation protection mechanism.
Third, it is just bad for business. Imagine if this law were put into action. Our front pages and new clips will contain one reply after another. Our newspapers will become public forums, setting aside today’s most important items for a person’s reply to yesterday’s news. This form of compulsion will degrade the news into a mere chatroom of endless debates. What publisher in his right mind would want to do business under these conditions?
Fourth, it ignores the ideal that the press must be the ultimate check and balance over government and other powerful persons. It is the mechanism that is capable of keeping people in line by scrutinizing their words and actions. Such an institution is the people’s best defense and weapon against corrupt practices. Such an institution provides the transparency that the rich and the powerful are unwilling to supply freely.
Both the Supreme Courts of the United States and the Philippines have long been clear that any law, which seeks to limit civil liberties has to pass a three-point test of strict scrutiny to be valid:
- It must be justified by a compelling governmental interest.
- It must be narrowly tailored to achieve that goal or interest.
- It must be the least restrictive means for achieving that interest.
On its face, the proposed Right of Reply Bill does not present any compelling government interest but only protects the reputation of individual public figures -- people whose words and actions should be open to full public scrutiny in the first place.
It is not narrowly tailored because it does more harm than good. It attempts to protect a single person’s reputation while depriving the rest of the people of a free, independent and fearless provider of information.
Finally, it is not the least restrictive means available because it commands media to provide free reply space and time with very specific parameters, thereby compelling them to forego more important matters. It is confiscatory and oppressive at the mere whim of any person who gets too sensitive about his or her feelings. Such conditions are too unreasonable and burdensome for media to function in a normal manner.
Our laws against libel and slander already hold media responsible for any lies or malicious information that it might spread to the public. The Right of Reply Bill is an unnecessary chokehold on the free press and must be rejected if the truth is to continue flowing through our papers, our airwaves and in the minds of our people.
Published in Cebu Gold Star Daily
In memory of Justice Edgardo F. Sundiam, a professor who taught me about the legal profession.
This is a shortened version of an essay I wrote for his class back in my first semester of law school, year 2003.
May he rest in true peace.
The Law of Hope
One needs to be slow to form convictions, but once formed they must be defended against the heaviest odds.
- MOHAMDAS ‘MAHATMA’ GANDHI (Martyr, Patriot, Lawyer)
I have spent 71 days in the law school. I have studied for approximately 300 hours at my own desk at home. I have read approximately 7000 pages of text from law books and case assignments. And yet I am nothing.
“The law school is not for the faint of heart”. Those were the words I heard from a friend who just passed the bar a couple of years ago. This phrase rang in my mind in each step I took towards my first class. Every fear, every apprehension, every doubt attacked me at that moment, drowning all the noise and every other sensation that surrounded me. The only prayer in my heart was that I would make it through the day with my spirit still intact. That was 9 weeks ago. From that moment until today, I have traversed into the wisdom and greatness of the law as well as its duplicity and insidiousness. Not for the faint of heart, indeed.
I never had a reason for entering law school worth mentioning. For one thing, I couldn’t find a satisfying job after college. My parents kept pressuring me to enter medical school but it was just too far from my own desires. I live in my brother’s apartment and have not contributed a single cent for the bills or for the rent. In short, I had nothing else to do with my life and time was running out fast. As lame as it sounds, that is my truth. I do not even have a good reason why I applied for law school in the first place. At that time, it was just a way for me to get my parents off my back. I was working in a religious organization and got paid just enough to settle my mobile phone bills. I was a true cliché… a highly educated, jobless Filipino with a dying sense of self-esteem. I had no idea what law school was all about. I couldn’t have cared less. To me, lawyers were just thieves in suits. I never wanted to be anyone who, even remotely, fits that description. I had my pride… and little did I know that with it, I carried my prejudice.
For the past 2 months, I have listened to professors and students talk about the law. But what I found to be more noteworthy is what they think of the law as a way of life. I have heard of people talk about it as, merely, a business. Some talk about it as a vocation of nobility and honor. And some even consider it as “the new priesthood”. From all these, I realized that the profession of law is not characterized by the practice itself, but one’s reason for practicing it. The title “lawyer” is not conclusive of what a person is. It merely speaks of what he does. Just like any other person practicing any other profession, that person is not only what he does but also what he believes in. A lawyer can be a mercenary, a patriot, a thief, a saint, a master, a servant, a prophet, a criminal… he can be anything. Before law school, I did not know this. I made my judgment without trial. I was unjust in forming my own conclusions.
My decision to enter the law school came about the day before the enrollment. Even then, my doubts were overpowering me. I had to ask counsel from a priest, several relatives, and a whole lot of friends. Every single one of them said the same thing: “Go for it! You will make a great lawyer”. The problem was that I never even understood what it meant to be a “lawyer”. Nevertheless, I trusted their wisdom and I took the plunge. Little did I know that I had just made one of the best decisions of my life, and it was not even completely mine.
I found myself in the law. The words justice, counsel, and compassion keep ringing in my head. I never expected to find these words on the very text of the law itself. I never really examined, much less, understood the law this clearly before. My indifference has deprived me of something so great and yet so real. The Preamble of the 1987 Constitution of the Philippines speaks unequivocally that, inter alia, the People of the Philippines live under a regime of truth, justice, freedom, love, equality, and peace… Six great virtues that exist or ought to exist in this great country of ours. I have found in the law what I have been looking for, for a long time: Hope.
What have I learned so far? That I am nothing. I am an idea that is yet to be realized. What I do now and what I will be doing for the next 4 years of my life in the law school will make me into something real -- someone who will stand a chance against adversity -- someone who will be able to push reality a little closer to his ideals. With all my fellow law students, those who came before us, and those who will come after us, all we have is hope. We all study the same books, the same laws, and the same ideas… but in the end, what we will become is not what we have been taught but what we choose to believe in and hope for. None of these titles like judge, politician, businessman, prosecutor, or counselor will ever matter. It will never be about what we are capable of doing… It will be about why we do them.
What motives do I have? To serve God and share his mandate of love to all people? To defend those who are too weak to defend themselves? To fight for what is just and right? To bring order into this chaotic world? To break down walls and create bridges for all men and women? Yes, all these and more. But these only are ideals that we have to incarnate into this world through painfully hard work against seemingly insurmountable odds. Yes, it will be difficult. Certainly, giving up would always be a welcome option. But all I ask… all I demand from myself, is that I would leave this world a better place that it was when I entered it… then I would have done my part.
The evils of man can be created with so little effort or even by accident… but goodness can only come from determination and conviction.
Why do I want to be a lawyer?
Because I have hope.
Published in Cebu Gold Star Daily
New Year for me has always been my birthday. This year, I took my usual cup of early morning coffee and ended up half praying and half talking to myself. It was a long week and work was beginning to become that burden, which makes me doubt my capacity as a doer. When you work for more than ten hours each day, things begin to spin beyond your control and from this vertigo, sleep becomes your only reprieve.
For the last few days, I have been complaining to myself during my 45-minute bus ride home, “There has to be a better way”. I know I share this sentiment with most of the working class out there, but it personally bore upon me, the same. Then, during one of these trips, I went into observer mode and discovered how truly fortunate I am to be where I am and to be doing what I do. I see the tired old lady collecting bus stubs, wondering how little pay she gets, how many children she has to provide for, how many hours she has to work each day and how utterly dehumanizing her job is. I see the street sweepers, the traffic police, the peanut vendor, the newspaper boys, the postman – all these people work day and night with little thanks and without even being greeted by a smile and a “good morning”.
I may not be earning much this day, but I’m doing fine when set against my daily background and the populace through which I navigate. I get to be creative in my work although it might wear me down at times. I get to talk to my co-workers, laugh about hard times and talk about my dreams. I get to sit in a comfortable chair, a full desk and work in a room with air-conditioning and good lighting. I dare not take these things for granted and run the risk of thinking that I’m so much more entitled than everyone else. I may be so much more fortunate… but that is all there is to it.
This year, I ask for a humility that never runs dry. I pray for the ability to always acknowledge that there is something far greater than myself and there are people relying on me to do my job. That although the hard work that I pump into my creations is my own, the very capacity and opportunity to do such work are gifts designed and handed to me by my Creator. So I claim these gifts completely and along with them, the responsibility of making them grow and of aiming them at the very best goals within my sights.
This is going to take a little getting used to. But I am grateful to have work at a time of scarcity. I am grateful for the chance to meet new people everyday when I have already been generously blessed with friends and family of true measure and substance. I am grateful for everything good that has happened to me, and everyone who has taken me to this point. It is this gratitude that keeps my demons in their cages.
Last night, my boss called me up, greeted me a happy birthday and thanked me for a job well done.
As I took the bus to work this morning, I thought, “It was a good first week”.
Published in Cebu Gold Star Daily
I remember during my grade school days when I would run up a wide ramp to get to the second floor classrooms. As you reach the wall facing the ramps, you would see a sign in bright bold red letters against a white background saying, SPEAK ENGLISH. Back then, that was the entire school’s expectation. Back then, that was the law. One who violates this command would get a screeching reprimand or be fined twenty-five centavos to be tossed into the class fund. Like having a school-wide swear jar, this was the educational attitude we had during the 80’s and 90’s (and perhaps even up to this day). As if speaking your native tongue was actually identical to cussing.
I admit, I am a proud Cebuano. But it occurred to me that when it comes to my native tongue, I have the vocabulary and grammar skills of a first grader. Here are three instances that prove this point:
- I attempted to write two songs in Cebuano and was successful only after consulting three of my friends about the lyrics.
- I went to Davao last December to conduct a paralegal seminar for six indigenous Mindanao tribes and I had to give all my lectures in straight Cebuano. I had such a difficult time that I was corrected many times by the participants and had to substitute many words unbeknownst to me with their English equivalents. It turned out to be a successful seminar, but it gave me the feeling that I was a foreigner among my peers.
- Yesterday, my boss asked me to translate a six-page script into Cebuano and it took me the greater part of two hours to finish my task.
It is because of this realization that I am working hand-in-hand with legislators and teachers to pass a new law -- one, which promotes multi-lingual education. It encourages the use of multiple languages, especially the native tongue of the locality, for teaching. It also provides for mandatory formal education on the native tongue. This is above and beyond the subjects already taught for English and Filipino.
I know what many of you are thinking – “Will this not make English proficiency suffer?” U.P. Diliman linguistics professor, Dr. Ricardo Nolasco says “No”. In his book, 21 Reasons Why Filipino Children Learn Better While Using Their Mother Tongue, he reveals that studies in many countries have shown that students who learn using their native language outperform those who learn using a secondary language. First language learning allows children to develop solid foundations for literacy and paves the way for learning multiple languages.
Like many people who are products of the Filipino private school system, English is my first language. It is the language in which I am most proficient. It is the language I use to count and the language in which I think. This is a fortunate (or unfortunate) reality for me and for many of my friends. But the majority of children who do not have this initial exposure to English adapt the native tongue as their first language. It may be Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Waray, Chavacano, Ilokano, Kapampangan or the many other languages of these islands. This burdens them with a tremendous disadvantage in the learning process and teachers get such a headache just trying to get them to learn while using English as the exclusive medium of instruction.
This is one of the reasons why many Filipinos remain illiterate -- why the dropout and repeat rates rise. These children are not stupid. They just were not given the same opportunities on a level playing field. They lack confidence because they cannot articulate their ideas in the way expected of them. In effect, their grades suffer and their self-esteem plummets -- all because they were brought into a learning system that forces them to become something other than their natural selves.
Education should be liberating. It ought to come naturally. Forcing children to learn what is alien to them in the onset will trigger a long-lasting aversion to learning. This is not to disregard the importance of learning English. In fact, it should be taught with greater intensity and depth. Learning English is our gateway to the rest of the world – but this should not be done at the cost of abandoning the rich wisdom and knowledge of our foreparents.
Local languages face extinction even as they are passed down by oral tradition. Few people know how to use our native languages correctly and use it well. What little we know now is a bastardized version of its former glorious self. Isn’t high time we reclaim our past and solidify our understanding of our cultural identities.
Many fear that this will cause division. On the contrary, it will encourage interaction and multi-literacy. It will send a message to the rest of the islands that the national government values their cultures and uniqueness. It fosters unity in diversity because of mutual tolerance. To deny that we are multi-cultural people is plainly delusional. We must embrace this diversity by celebrating it in our schools.
The more children learn their own languages, the more poets, novelists, screenwriters, actors, songwriters and artists we will have in a very wide range of languages. It will enrich and develop our culture. Music and art will flourish and it will shepherd in a Filipino renaissance never before seen in history. I look forward to this period in our future.
Panahon na para mag-bag-o ang ato-ang panan-aw sa kalibutan. Panahon na para ibalik ang ato-ang kultura ug kaalam.
