Louis XIV syndrome
Impeached Supreme Court Chief Justice Renato Corona skewered President Benigno Aquino for seeking to install “a puppet” in his place. A budding “dictator,” P-Noy wants the judiciary as his stamp pad.
As in Marcos’ “New Society,” Justices would trot behind Imelda Marcos, shielding her from the sun with a colored parasol. Remember? Marcos made big to-dos about complying with court decisions that he secretly dictated.
The 188 votes by the House of Representatives to dispatch Articles of Impeachment to the Senate continues the President’s “bullying and threats,” Corona asserted. On the Supreme Court building steps, he vowed not to buckle, as did the partisan Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez.
He mocked Aquino’s stance as “balukot na daang matuwid” (crooked righteous path). Festooned with black ribbons, court employees chanted: “CJ, CJ, CJ.” They erupted with 56 rounds of applause. Surrounded by wife Cristina and children, Corona pledged to thwart an administration bent on “smearing the whole court” through “malice and fallacies.”
This was a rally in the old Plaza Miranda mold. Would that happen, say, in the lobby of France’s Court of Cassation or steps of the US Supreme Court adjacent to the Capitol? Unthinkable.
Alas, it gave a coup d’ grace to the cherished ideal for “practicing law in the grand manner.” We see instead the Louis XIV syndrome at work.
L ’etat c’est moi, this French monarch declared. “I am the state.” He merged his person with the institution. To humor the Versailles elite, he appointed advisors as “estates generals.” But he didn’t bother to even chat with them.
In the Sistine Chapel, Michaelangelo painted into the Last Judgment mural, a Pope bundled to Hades. Of 266 pontiffs, since Peter the Fisherman, there’ve been a few sleazy characters.
Pope Alexander VI was so corrupt, his surname Borgia remains, even today, a tag for debasement. But those who sought reforms did not confuse the Chair of Peter with the occassional bastard who perched on it.
Does Corona confuse charges against his person with a blanket smear of the court? No. He’s not your naïve Goldilocks. The raps range from sweeping his statement of assets and liabilities under the rug to misuse of the Judiciary Development Fund.
These do not constitute tarring of the Supreme Court. However, a judiciary can be a convenient shield to deflect charges in a process that will break out of legal straitjackets.
An impeachment is, first and last, a battle for hearts and minds of citizens. So Corona spoke in Tagalog to reach the bakya crowd. He propped wife and kids at a bare-knuckle political meeting.
Corona sallies forth as dragon slayer. But his armor has two gaps. One, he is a midnight appointee. And second, majority of Filipinos don’t see him as a justice in the mold of a Jose Abad Santos, Cecilia Munoz- Palma or a Roberto Concepcion.
“He’s no Claudio Teehankee,” snapped a Malacañang spokesman. In the Marcos Supreme Court, the late Teehankee emerged as the sole independent voice.
Before stepping down, Gloria Macapagal- Arroyo signed midnight appointments from Malacañang gardener, personal manicurist to chief justice. “How many jobs did she sign away?” asked Viewpoint in “Attila Rides Again” ( PDI, May 18, 2010). President Carlos Garcia fobbed off 350 nominees. GMA’s father Diosdado Macapagal tripled that to 1,717.
“But hackles bristled when she anointed Renato Corona to succeed Supreme Court Chief Justice Reynato Puno. That quarter-of-midnight appointment fractured the Constitution provision that handcuffs a president from making appointments 60 days before stepping down.
“It takes two to tango.” Don’t disco, a score of voices counseled Corona. “Consider former Chief Justice Manuel Moran’s delicadeza,” Inquirer’s Solita Monsod suggested. After a stint as ambassador, Moran waved away a midnight reappointment. Leave that to the incoming President, he demurred.
“Do a Moran,” former president Fidel Ramos prodded his protégé. Ramos was first to endorse Corona for the Court. If only to save the Court decline, suggested the Philippine Bar Association and Supreme Courts Appointments Watch.
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Hamlet warned. Corona did a Corona. In the process, he morphed into a de facto chief justice, former senator Rene Saguisag asserted. No. Not de jure.
Pulse Asia’s latest survey reveals that “the least trusted among national officials” is— guess who. Of 1,200 respondents, 27 percent “wouldn’t buy a second hand car” from this man, as the old saw goes. A 6 percentage point surge was the “most marked movement” in the overall trust rating score
Wearing crimson togas, senators took their oath as impeachment judges before the Christmas break. Roman aristocrat Cincinnatus, we recall, refused to receive messengers from the emperor until his wife fetched a toga.
In December 2000, Chief Justice Hilario Davide Jr. gaveled senators to begin impeachment against President Joseph Estrada. Eleven voted to seal the “second envelope” alleged to contain evidence against Erap.
They were dubbed the “Craven Eleven.” People Power 2 erupted and overruled the 11. Have today’s toga-clad senators learned the Louis XIV syndrome can be lethal?
