GOTCHA, Published in The Philippine Star, Friday, December 28, 2007
Romeo Jalosjos’s lawyer and son, on feeling hurt when people call him “convicted child rapist” for his heinous crime on an 11-year-old: “We urge the media to (instead) use ‘convicted minor rapist’. We don’t question the word ‘conviction’, (but) ‘convicted child rapist’. ‘Child’ has an open meaning, (to include) kids, maybe toddlers, up to 12 years old... My father is not a rapist. The issue with the girl is not about rape; it’s all about politics. He has been convicted, okay, that’s fine, but at least he deserves respect.”
An unlicensed firecracker maker, on a mall fire this week started by his unsafe wares: “Why blame me? Do the police not know that it takes a person to light or mishandle a firecracker for it to explode? It doesn’t cause fire by itself. So don’t blame me.”
And the inconsiderate jeepney driver, on any given day, when accosted for loading and unloading passengers in the middle of streets: “Boss, I’m only trying to make a living.”
Filipinos will amaze you with their capacity for hairsplitting. But where do you think they learn it? You guessed right: from their leaders, of course. Consider these examples of chutzpah:
Budget Sec. Rolando Andaya Jr., on the World Bank’s recent ditching of a $265-million loan for road repair after 200 local officials rigged the bids: “It’s all the World Bank’s fault. They insisted on using their faulty rules, instead of our superior laws on public bidding and procurement.”
Sen. Antonio Trillanes’s chief aide, on why he broke his campaign promise to not draw the graft-ridden pork barrel of P200 million a year: “We were told that if we don’t get it, someone else will.”
Joseph Estrada, on his conviction for plunder: “Granting that I took money from jueteng, but I did not steal from the government, that is not government money.”
Governor-priest Ed Panlilio, on the P500,000 un-receipted cash given to him during a Malacañang meeting on presidential impeachment: “I don’t think it’s a bribe because there were no strings attached. But I’m waiting for them to tell me where it came from.”
And the classic Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, breaking in June 2005 her long silence on her wiretapped calls to election officer Virgilio Garcillano: “I recognize that making any such call was a lapse in judgment. I am sorry... That is why I want to close this chapter and move on with the business of governing.”
Philippine officials have filled up history notes with grim displays of gall. Senate President Jose Avelino’s remark “What are we in power for?” in 1949 matches the crudeness in the 1989 excuse of a presidential appointee for buying a luxury executive massage-chair out of meager agency funds: “Ours is a rich country pretending to be poor.”
As far back as 1897 at the Tejeros Convention between the Magdalo and Magdiwang factions of the Revolution, insolence showed at the top. At the time, Katipunan founder Andres Bonifacio already had been humiliated at being passed up for the Presidency. A rival aimed to shame the Supremo further for being a plebian. When the latter was elected only as Secretary of Interior, the former questioned his credentials and said the post should go to a lawyer.
Ferdinand Marcos for 14 years used the Red bogey on critics of his one-man rule. One such dissenter declared himself manifestly to be anti-communist. Whereupon, one of Marcos’s bright generals hauled him off to political prison with the charge, “I don’t care what kind of commie you are, you’re all the same.”
More recent Sen. Miriam Santiago, shuddering in 2000 at the thought of her beloved Erap being ousted, vowed to jump off a plane if it ever came to pass. When Erap later was toppled and TV reporters asked
Not to be outdone last August was then-Comelec chief Ben Abalos. Cornered by the press into admitting going to Shenzhen four times last year on ZTE Corp. expense, he challenged them, “What was wrong in that?”
There was more to come from the consequent Senate hearings on that telecoms scam. Officials insisted that the people foot the supposedly useful and upright $330-million bill — yet refused to make it public on grounds of confidentiality of ZTE’s proprietary information. In all impudence, they wanted Filipinos to spend P26 billion, sight unseen.
