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.
NOTHING FOLLOWS
These are the last words you will ever see as a bar examinee... and though you don't think much of it then, you do now... and you can only pray that this is a statement of no consequence -- a non-prophetic lexical blunder that was never intended to articulate your fate.
How do you reconcile a duty with a dream? I'm just figuring this out right now... and it's no fun at all. As much as I hated the academic part of being in law school, sudden post-bar freedom [abandonment] is no fun. Is this life? Pay the bills, then die? Maybe. For some of us, maybe. But I'm still figuring this out.
No vacation for this one. There's just too much to do.
Thank you to everyone who gave their time, mind and muscle to support us during one of our darkest times. The bar exam is no joke. No freakin' way. But we were standing on the top of a giant's head... and this was probably enough to pass those eight tests.
Thank you to the Ateneo Law School BarOps. To my dearest friends in the AHRC, to my fellow bar examinees who served as my primary mutual support group, to my AHRC Batchmates who made their appearances and gestures of support. To my immediate family who was there throughout the whole ordeal, and my extended family who believed in what fortitude I had left to spare. To my bandmates and friends in the music business who gave me their own brand of sick but vital support. For all your prayers, financial and moral support, smiles, text messages, emails, hugs, kisses, taps on the shoulder, jokes, insights, wake-up calls, sleepless nights and all your generous sacrifices, thank you, everybody.
The bar exam is a spiritual and humbling experience. I thank God for it and for everyone who was part of my experience.
I love you all. Forget the damn lawyer's oath... I personally swear to every one of you that I will never abuse this power should I be deemed worthy of it.
See you all in the real world soon.
Originally published in the February 2006 edition of ThePalladium for my column Legal Personality.
Being a fervent advocate of human rights, I am morally bound to speak about how much the marginalized need us and how little they have in both in life and in the application of the law. On a different note, twenty years of Jesuit education has taught me that one cannot truly give what s/he does not have. Jesus Christ, himself, said “If a blind man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit.” And thus, I am equally bound to say that we, ourselves, have a solemn duty to protect our own rights – some of which we do not even recognize.
American psychologist, Abraham Maslow, taught us that the human person has a hierarchy of needs. From bottom to top, he listed them down as Physiological, Safety, Love/Belonging, Esteem, and at the apex, Actualization. One has to satisfy the lower-level needs in order to go up the next rung and satisfy the higher ones. The problem with human rights theory is that it is often restricted to the bottom two levels (food, shelter, clothing, education, safety, etc.) – ensuring people’s survival. But is it fair to end there? A full stomach with an empty heart?
This is where these higher-level rights come in, which I conveniently call “The Rights of the Soul”. Like human rights, these rights are inalienable, inherent and imprescriptible. They cannot be given away or sold, they are not granted by law but are part and parcel of one’s humanity, and they cannot be extinguished through time. One cannot separate them completely from human rights because they are, in fact, human rights and emanate from the same continuum of liberties and freedoms. For instance, the freedom of expression is expanded to form the freedoms of art and music – of beauty… not only to express but to also appreciate and judge the same. The freedoms of religious and political belief also go higher than mere organized beliefs but to personal ones – the right to hope, to dream, to have access to the ideal and the divine. The freedom to feel – to love, to laugh, to cry, to hate, to experience the broad spectrum of human emotions and to go through them again and again. The right to privacy also goes deeper and creates a right to keep one’s life compartmentalized without the fear of being accused of duplicity against the other aspects of his/her life… to be separate his/her career, family and passions from one another.
These are only instances and, no different from human rights, there can be no real possibility of enumerating them all because these are the things that make us human (a concept which might never be fully comprehended). Not only humans of flesh and blood but humans of soul and spirit – things that allow us to reach out into the unknown, the impossible, and the divine and, somehow, make them real.
So, when will we begin to assert these rights? Many people impliedly relinquish these rights by living their lives mechanically… they work, study, eat, sleep and do it all over again the next day and the next until on end. By doing this, no matter how wealthy or intelligent, are they not oppressed as well? One who does not live his/her life all the way to actualization cannot teach another about beauty or meaning or hope. The best that s/he could do is offer material things that inevitably perish in time.
The rights of the soul that we protect turn us into beings of power and by only protecting them, will we be able to empower others.
And here I am, just finished writing a new song while I swallow the last drops of my Starbucks peppermint mocha frapuccino as an unwashed little girl approaches me and begs for a few coins. I hand her a twenty and send her off with a smile and a prayer. I then put on my black jacket and walk home.
So much for higher level rights.
Originally published in the December 2005 edition of ThePalladium for my column Legal Personality.
You cannot embrace a man who is full of sores because the only thing he will feel is pain.
- ANONYMOUS
One of my law professors once told me that our job as lawyers is to prevent, avoid, or resolve conflicts. In my short stay in the ALS, I have found this increasingly difficult to accomplish. Many people these days have this tendency to be oversensitive. They hurt very easily. Nobody can make an honest mistake nowadays. Nobody can take a joke anymore. Today you have to be politically correct in whatever you do and say. People no longer want to hear the truth. They want you to feed them with feel-good lies and expertly-manufactured BS in the guise of positive affirmations that only make them stop trying to improve themselves. You can no longer call a spade a spade without being shrugged and given all kinds of strange looks.
We cannot afford to have feelings anymore… not when everything around us is falling to ruin. “I’m sorry, it was an oversight. Please forgive me”. We just don’t want to tell people that they are wrong. Now, I am not saying that we stop having compassion for those who deserve and need it. I’m saying that we should just stop being so oversensitive. It is just not proper in our calling. One cannot be impartial and oversensitive at the same time. Justice has no feelings. We need to be up and alert, sharp, and discriminating with surgical precision. We are ordinary human beings called to do extraordinary tasks.
People should learn to, once more, stand up on their own two feet. We need to be the Filipinos who once stood tall and proud against our oppressors. Dr. Rizal did not sit at home and cry about hurt feelings. When the Spanish friars offended him (although this might be too much of an understatement), he wrote two books and started a revolution. This is the kind of person that we are being shaped to become.
In the world today, truth is not as important as meaning. Knowing this, we should be watchful in allowing the truth to be drowned in a sea of faulty meanings. We have become a nation of blabbering crybabies while the wealthy reach the top because they don’t give a damn what people say about them. We die with our petty concerns and allow the real opportunities to pass us by unnoticed. People always want to see themselves as the victims. This country has no room for any more victims! With the massive privileges and responsibilities dropped on our laps, we have no choice but to become heroes.
How?
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do your job.
That is all the hero ever has to do.
Originally published in the September 2005 edition of ThePalladium for my column Legal Personality.
The conversation started with a simple question:
Are you happy, Mark?
I could have chosen to answer this question with my ever-casual “yes” and dismiss the subject altogether. But this time, it led me to an unexpected stupor of intensive thought.
A Theology professor once told me that we human beings have an infinite capacity for happiness. Comforting words these are but, consequently, it also means that we will never get to where we truly want to be – our destination is ever-ambulant, always two steps ahead of us – always eluding us. When frustration sets in, we shake our heads, bow down and surrender to compromise. Dreams become encrusted with the rough material of reality. Do we allow ourselves to be repeatedly imprisoned this way? Or do we dare break through?
The Bar Examinations are a few days away. Everything is set.
We are the privileged few. Oftentimes, we hear critics say that we are too detached from the real world – from the masses.
Indeed, we are. We are those who desire to truly live rather than to just survive. It is basic that what is popular is infrequently what is right. To allow ourselves to be swept by the masses is to join those who have been divested of free choice – people who act because of the external pressures brought upon them – people who do what they do because they are left with no other option. They are constantly pushed around by painful externalities – they simply cannot act on their own volition lest they get trampled upon and might even die trying. In this situation – when you fight for pure survival, only self-interest governs.
We are too educated and too fortunate to allow ourselves to be fooled into the same trap. All our lives, we have been stormed with blessings that many others could only fantasize about. As a counterpart, we are necessarily yoked with tremendous responsibilities that we ought never to abandon. It is our paramount duty to elevate others to where we are – to champion them and obtain for them the very freedoms that we take for granted every single day.
We must never apologize for being where we are. However, we must never fail to condemn ourselves for not pulling others up during the climb.
Human beings are flawed by nature. But for the few of us who have been given the necessary facilities to better approximate perfection, that is, excellence, we must do so. Anything less is pure unmistakable injustice.
The conversation ended with a simple phrase:
People like us are never satisfied with the ordinary… and we should never be.
For the 2005 Bar-candidates and future leaders of our nation, I pray that you may never lose your idealism; that you may never allow yourselves to be obscured by the riptide of the masses under the deceptive guise of popular choice, no matter how loud. For the sake of the future of the Filipino people and for humanity, allow yourselves to shine forth for all to see your borrowed glory and take your lead. I implore you to remain steadfast and hold true to your commitment and calling as stewards of justice. Make proud those who have crafted you into incomparably superb tools for bringing legal order to an often chaotic world.
Do not allow yourselves to be just lawyers and pass the bar for its own sake – but be ever-vigilant and strive always to raise the bar to an unprecedented height and embrace your destiny… become the Atenean lawyer.
Come take your fill and reap the fruits of your arduous labor. Remember: infinite capacity. So flex your wings and sharpen your talons. Rest up. You are ready.
No “good lucks” for the prepared. Only three words remain:
ONE BIG FIGHT!
Originally published in the March 2005 edition of ThePalladium for my column Legal Personality.
I will never forget these strong, albeit simple, words from a speech that Atty. Medina ardently delivered during the First Alternative Law Groups National Conference: he said, "Lawyers are powerful people". Indeed they are. How else would you characterize an individual who, by his mere words, can send another human being into the darkest and filthiest corners of prison while sapping every ounce of dignity left in him? How else would you describe somebody who can stand before the leaders of this state and convince them that the indigenous tribes of the highlands should be left undisturbed to live in and preserve the lands of their ancestors? These godlike characteristics cannot be taken lightly. The ability to seal the fate of another individual or group of human beings is no small thing that we can just toy around with. The choice on whether to preserve an endangered culture or to relocate entire communities is a both gift and a curse. This is power – and to a great extent, we already have this power even as non-members of the Bar – because we chose to study law.
We, as law students, acquire power every single day. Every statute we master, every judicial decision we comprehend is another weapon and shield that we can use for or against another person. But every weapon can only be as good as its wielder. It can only follow the will of its master. We all have the same weapons at our disposal but it is our duty to decide how they will be employed in battle. We, legal warriors, are free to choose our banners and adversaries – sometimes, they even choose us. We can choose to charge as we hold our heads up high or we can choose to hide in the shadows and strike our unsuspecting victims with treachery. We can use this power to hoard vast amounts of riches for ourselves or we can use it to generate collective wealth by empowering those who surround us. We can use this power to teach those who are defenseless or we can choose to annihilate these ‘easy prey’. We can adhere to the law of the survival of the fittest or we can choose the creed of interdependence and communal survival.
Sooner or later, we will all have to make these choices, not only about which side of the battlefield we will be fighting on but also the methods we choose to employ to win this war. Whom we fight for and whom we fight with will be greatly affected because of this power that we yield. The law is a tool, a weapon – it can do great good or cause great suffering depending on the hand that wields it. We all have to take part in the war, whether we like it or not. The refreshing waters and the blood of our country are in our hands. What happens in the next 20 or 30 years is our burden, our responsibility – it is our problem to solve.
It will, ultimately, be a matter of conscience, discipline and attitude – a continuing choice that we have to make over and over again. We can watch our own backs and eventually be kings of a desolate wasteland or we can find our way together somehow and become citizens of a realized utopia.
We are all warriors. The law is our sword and our shield. We are the generals in this struggle and we choose whom we crush and whom we serve. This onus is a direct consequence of our power. When we chose to be students of the law, we chose power – but we chose to be burdened with difficult decisions as well. Some of us will eventually have to choose sides in the future; some of us already have. But whether we choose to meet our enemies in or outside court, rest assured, we will all be on the same battlefield either as keepers of the peace or instigators of ruin.
So to all of my powerful friends and colleagues... may we have a good fight and may we believe in what we fight for.
