Love lost

In the spirit of St Valentine’s, I just realized that the first and only love a lawyer should have is, (and I say this even when I realize it will strike everybody as corny) the Constitution. There is, after all, in some part of the lawyer’s oath, a reminder of fealty to this most basic of laws. All national laws, administrative orders, city ordinances, as well as actions taken by public officers, are tested against the Constitution. If they don’t measure up, then simple. They are struck down for being unconstitutional.

That is why in some not-too-distant past, a group of lawyers formed the Philconsa, the Philippine Constitutional Association. The group was committed to defending what else, but the Constitution, and over the years, they formed a reputation of maverick lawyers who were independent thinkers and brave fighters. 

Starting freshman year in law school, the law student is already exposed to Philconsa, as the assignment list for the soon to be overloaded student is littered with cases brought by Phiconsa against this and that official. Poring through those cases, the student soon develops a healthy respect. The thousands of pages attest to their devotion to the Constitution and the donation of their intellect and precious time. And, more importantly, they realize that without Philconsa, the Constitution would have been whittled down to less than the ultimate protection that it is supposed to afford ordinary citizens.

Sometime in 2008, a letter to a national newspaper was sent, wondering where in the world was Philconsa. This was during the time there were rumbles of the Constitution being amended, when the powers that be were still exploring ways to stay longer in their seats. One of the most viable options was a direct attack on the Constitutional prohibition, by hoodwinking the still-uneducated majority of the voting population into thinking that letting the corrupt officials continue filching was the best way to go. Probably, that letter-writer was a fan of Philconsa, and wanted it to make its presence felt.  

Well, that writer got his wish, as this week brought a surprise to the political landscape. In the midst of the furor over whether the President is going to select the next Supreme Court Chief Justice even despite the Constitutional prohibition, and while I was making my noisy application to be the next Chief Justice, the Philconsa suddenly showed itself.

    (Ok, quick digression. I didn’t really file an application – that was supposed to be a protest against the news reports that the Judicial and Bar Council was already preparing a short list and accepting applications for submission to President Arroyo. I did make it clear I’m too young to apply right?)

   Back to Philconsa. This august institution has just popped out of the woodwork, and in the most shocking fashion possible. It filed a petition with the Supreme Court, asking it to rule that this President can and does have the power to appoint its next Chief. A petition which brings everything it ever stood for in stark relief, if I must say.

Who is this new Philconsa? The web, my usual source of unverified facts, has it that it is headed by former agrarian minister Conrado Estrella and Manuel Lazaro. The names were kinda familiar, but no real bells. (I tried digging out more facts, but one webpage of the Philippine Information Agency had it that Minister Estrella was already dead, so that wasn’t really useful.)

After a few minutes of lazy research, I gave up and just sent SMS messages to a few friends. A faculty member of the UP College of Law was firm in her stance that the group has been co-opted by President Arroyo. Which isn’t a surprising conclusion, given that they actually want the Supreme Court to clear all the potential legal barriers to an appointment by Arroyo, and this, even before the issue is ripe for decision. I mean, come on, she hasn’t even made an appointment and they already want the court to rule it’s possible?

Whatever the outcome, this much is evident. Philconsa has just damaged its carefully built, decades-long reputation as a defender of the supreme law. (And by the way, someone’s oath of true love has just been desecrated.)