Published in Cebu Gold Star Daily
The Philippines is the oldest democracy in Asia. In our minds, we believe strongly in equality, freedom, justice and human rights.
In our minds.
We are one of the poorest nations in the world and yet we have the most number of servants per household. We live in a country where it is customary to leave the care of our children and our homes to people we pay a very minimal amount of money and provide very few benefits to.
The rich down to the middle class have become so accustomed to this social setup that they see no reason to stir the waters with inconvenient change. The poor who constitute the ‘informal service industry’ also do not complain, either because of innate Filipino meekness or simply because they feel ‘lucky’ to even have a job at all.
Worse than the low wages are the ‘house rules and conditions’ we impose upon them. We confine them in our homes inside tiny living quarters with bad ventilation and nothing but a straw mat to sleep on, while we sleep soundly on soft mattresses inside air-conditioned rooms. They do nothing but work all day everyday and are always on call, often disturbed from their sleep late at night to open our gates as we come home from clubbing or a poker game. The next day, they wake up before the sun to water the plants, sweep the floor, cook breakfast and walk the dogs, so that when their masters wake up, everything is in perfect shape. We always eat before they do and provide them with either our leftovers or unhealthy canned goods and noodles. We give them a day off but expect them to come home in time to prepare supper. We prohibit them from dating because we fear losing their services should they decide found a family of their own.
Sound familiar?
Of course, I speak of averages. The worst ‘masters’ among us shout at their helpers and even call them names. In the very worst scenarios, physical abuse is an everyday thing.
The best of us offer education and health benefits to our domestic companions and even give them opportunities to augment their income through livelihood programs. Some employers always have their helpers with them at the same table no matter where they choose to dine. Few even get to travel around the world for free. But this, of course, is an anecdotal rarity.
Nonetheless, most of our house helpers suffer the very worst working conditions in and outside the country. Even Philippine labor law treats them as sub-human workers who deserve much less than everyone else who works as hard or less.
This unspoken Filipino caste system has gone on for so long that we even export our helpers to every country in the world who would have them. Some foreign employers have inherited our habits and take the atrocities even further by confiscating their helper’s passport and locking them up in their houses.
It is no revelation that foreigners see the Philippines as the number one outsourcer of help. Our people manage and maintain the households of thousands upon thousands of people all over the world, and they get very little in return. Few complain. Few earn enough to live decent lives and die with dignity.
Why do we allow this?
Because it is convenient.
This is something we do not bother to even talk about. Maybe it took a few heart piercing words by a Hong Kong writer to make us see our own errors. Indeed, the truth hurts. But what do we do about it?
These are the people we trust with our most precious possessions: our homes and our children. Do we really want to treat them badly?
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.
