PUBLISHED: Student & Campus Section, Manila Bulletin, 15 October 2008 Issue (Page F-4)
Is anyone beyond pardon?
In answering that question, perhaps the case of Claudio Teehankee, Jr. would be a good place to start. Should he be pardoned? He’s rich and influential; no less than the son of one of the great chief justices in Philippine history. He clearly committed a heinous crime, and he has (purportedly) not shown any signs of remorse. He is, in short, the perfect example of a person whom you shouldn’t pardon.
There are other issues as well. Many have complained that the process was not transparent. Some individuals have even claimed that money changed hands in this case. The victim’s family declared that they were not informed. It seems glaringly evident to everyone that this is not just a case of a lapse in judgment—this was a deliberate act of political indiscretion.
In fact, no matter what way you look at it, this can’t be anything but political. Our very own Justice Secretary did admit that Teehankee’s brother, ambassador and representative to the WTO, ended up being a factor in the decision. Considering how even impeached Presidents get pardoned nowadays, I guess the issue is not just about one deliberate act of political indiscretion, but rather, a whole system founded on it.
Also, we shouldn’t forget about the victims’ families. If there is anyone against whom this crime has been committed, it is to them, who are in themselves victims, first and foremost. Why should they—or we—forgive him? Some things that have been taken away can never be returned. If it were our friend, our parent, our brother or sister, whose life had been taken on a whim, would we not feel the same way? We don’t have to undergo their experiences to be able to grasp they are experiencing. Forgiveness does not come easily for wounds that will never heal.
If so, then is every other pardon just as objectionable?
A decade ago, a lot of controversy surrounded the case of Flor Contemplacion, who purportedly murdered a fellow OFW as well as the son of their Singaporean employer. We claimed that she was framed, that she was innocent. We demanded that she be pardoned. Our then-president went so far as to personally appeal her execution sentence. It was denied. Her execution strained our country’s relations with Singapore for some time. Even if the facts of the case were never fully established to us, our then-president went so far as to call her a hero.
But in contrast to Teehankee, Flor Contemplacion was a poor Filipina forced into an abusive working condition. If so, then is pardon simply a question of race or social class?
Say a poor, oppressed farmer murdered his usurious landlord, who happened to be a wealthy and corrupt politician. Assuming he did his country a favor, does that make his murder any less objectionable? Would you call him a hero? Would you think twice about saying that he deserves pardon?
Maybe it would help us answer the question if we turned our assumptions around for a minute. Let’s say that pardon is acceptable and justifiable under certain circumstances. If our administration can do it, and regularly, for the rich and influential, then it is fair to say that the same standard should be applied for those who are poorer.
But assuming there was a case parallel to Teehankee’s, where the murderer a poor drunkard, the victims in question from the slums and the scene of the crime was in an obscure street alley rather than a high-class subdivision. Would that man have a right to be pardoned, too? Would there be an outcry if our president pardoned him?
In the end, however, the question of pardon is about morality, more so than about politics, race, or social class. It extends to our conscience as individuals who live in a state which respects rights, including the benefit of the doubt.
But if we were to talk about morality, then it goes back to the question: Is anyone beyond forgiveness?
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