The ‘sorry’s’ of our lives

I once met a foreigner who loved the Philippines, having lived here for more than 20 years. He told me with a mixture of exasperation and sympathy, “You are a ‘Sorry!’ society.”

He did not mean that our society was in a sorry state, though we ourselves often say so. What he meant was that we are quick to say “Sorry!” then are done with it. He must be suffering from a stiff neck now from following the “Sorry’s” that are being flung back and forth like ping-pong balls.

Yes, it seems just a game to us. Our “Sorry!” does not really mean we are going to do anything to make amends. It’s not really owning up to wrongdoing, grievous or trivial. It’s simply an excuse to present justifications for what we did, as in “I’m sorry for meddling in the elections. It was a lapse in judgment.” (But no offer to step down… no way!)

Our “Sorry!” is followed by “Kasi…” (“It’s because…”), and very often the finger we point is not at ourselves but at someone else. Thus, we never get to the bottom of any mess. Fraport or Piatco? Erap/Lacson or whoever had Dacer rubbed out? Maguindanao: Massacre or mass suicide? Yes, we even blame murder victims for their death.

What this foreigner could not understand was why, in the first place, we didn’t avoid or prevent the situation that would get us into trouble. It was clear in his logical mind that some forethought would save us from having to say “Sorry!” later.

The answer is simply that we don’t intend to say “Sorry!” for doing wrong, only for being caught. And we certainly don’t intend to get caught. But if, by some unlikely happenstance, we do, all we have to say is “Sorry!” and move on, our ego is none the worse for wear.

Bishops say ‘Sorry!’

Last week I rejoiced that, perhaps, at long last this national curse had been broken. Seven Catholic bishops apologized for having accepted cash from the PCSO to buy vehicles of varying sportiness and functionality.

One had in fact unabashedly solicited it as a birthday present from then President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (later pleading the very same “lapse in judgment” as she had).

Initially, the holy men’s reactions to being exposed had been no different from that of any politician accused of stealing public funds. Why were they being persecuted when they had only good intentions of helping the poor? The Church was being attacked because of its opposition to the RH bill. Why not question others who also benefited from the past administration? “Our conscience is clear!” they declared. (Is there really such a thing as a group conscience? I thought conscience was precisely the individual capacity of the evolved human being?)

Then the CBCP closed ranks and its official wisdom—or astuteness—prevailed. In a carefully crafted love letter to the faithful (“love”/“beloved” occurs five times in the letter) they said, “We are sorry” for the pain and confusion they had caused due to the “apparent inconsistency of our actions with our pastoral preaching.”

Quite laudably, they displayed the true spirit of contrition by returning the vehicles in question. Bravo, Reverends! You gave us reason to believe that Christ’s chosen are made of sterner stuff than us ordinary mortals.

We had not seen such humility in the Philippine Catholic Church in a long time. (For example, the US Church has openly addressed sexual abuses by its priests—some of them Filipinos—and compensated the victims, while our religious leaders continue to sweep such shameful realities under the rug.) In a shift from their usual authoritative/combative stance, the princes pleaded with their flock to “be slow in judgment, seek the truth always in charity.”

But I was in for a huge letdown! No sooner had they been let off the hook, than the erstwhile abject bishops gleefully threw off their sheep’s clothing. Ta-dah! It had been a moro-moro after all! Being humble and meek must have been so alien to their true nature, they could not stand it for one minute more.

They lashed out at the government, calling it anti-Church. They demanded apologies from PCSO Chair Margie Juico and President Aquino for dragging the Church into a controversy that damaged its credibility.

The bishop who had asked GMA for a “brand new car” in exchange for his unwavering support, and had earlier declared P-Noy “not worthy to be President,” called once again for his resignation. (In some countries, a cleric could be arrested for speaking out against the government like this.)

Meanwhile, a prominent archbishop delivered a sanctimonious speech, preaching what a leader-statesman should be. Integrity was not enough, he said; a leader should also have vision. Funny. So quiet and content these prelates seemed under GMA, no one would have guessed they had such deep concern and expert knowledge about the quality of leadership of our country.

I was wrong to have raised my hopes in the first place. I should not have allowed myself to gloss over the crafty rhetoric of the pastoral letter. Indeed even while apologizing with “deep sorrow” the bishops had already judged themselves innocent. They had clearly stated that they would accept responsibility for their action only if it is proven “unlawful, anomalous, and unconstitutional.” Don’t even try to pin them down on anything immoral, unethical or highly inappropriate.

‘Why should I say ‘Sorry!’?’

In their apology, the bishops not only vowed to observe high ethical standards in the future, they also declared their “readiness to do everything… so that we can all move forward in hope.” Then—I’ll be darned!—they did just the opposite. (Since they prefer to stand as a collective I will regard them as such.)

They hurled inexplicably rash and harsh words at a President who has taken the high moral ground and cannot be accused of doublespeak. Just as P-Noy’s efforts to unearth and punish corruption are beginning to yield results, the bishops torpedo them as “political vendetta.”

After only one year they judge this administration to be a “political failure,” and P-Noy as being “stuck in the past” instead of “moving forward with excitement.” As if we can move forward without disentangling ourselves from the thorns of the past.

Transcending the malice of the out-of-bounds bishops, P-Noy responds to their demands for an apology with characteristic down-home common sense: “Hindi ho yata tama na kami pa ang mag-a-apologize.” He points the issue back to the right direction: “I’m willing to apologize if I did something wrong, but where did all this start?”

No doubt this all started with the bishops behaving just like ordinary Pinoys and hankering for the worldly prestige and comfort of a car. But, from another perspective, one could say that it all started with our installing GMA as a replacement for Erap in 2001. For her role in that, poor Cory made sure she said her “Sorry!” before she died.

Sheriff says ‘Sorry!’

Another strange scene in our ongoing tragedy of errors and comedy of “sorry’s” is the Duterte punching incident.

Astig Davao Mayor Sara Duterte-Carpio reportedly apologized through an emissary for losing her cool at the expense of Court Sheriff Abe Andres but was unremorseful. “It was not my best moment” was her generous assessment of her behavior. Still snorting fire, she wielded her best weapon by threatening to cut the budget for the sheriff’s office.

Astonishingly, the DILG did not immediately see any need to impose any sanctions for this assault on a representative of the law (belatedly, only recommending an administrative charge of misconduct). Even more astonishingly it was the battered sheriff who excused Inday Sara for her hot temper that day.

“Ma’am, pasensya na ho,” he apologized in a TV interview. His legitimate defense, that he was trying to serve a court order, and her unjustifiable violence, suddenly faded into irrelevance. In the dynamics of feudal politics, apologies are made to maintain relationships and assuage personalities who are larger than the law.

Inday Sara’s proud father, Vice Mayor Rodrigo Duterte, crowed that it was only proper for Andres to apologize. He had, in fact, pointedly advised his daughter not to apologize because she had done the right thing: defend the poor. He had taught his daughter well.

Predictably, Inday Sara’s political stock rose. Her supporters came out in rallies, on Facebook, and in a series of paid advertisements waxing lyrical about her compassionate heart.

Ayun, that’s the story of our lives. No one recognizes—or admits—any wrongdoing. Nothing is solved or resolved. We are in perpetual confusion as to who deserves our outrage or our gratitude. We thought the Church could set us straight, but it has become part of the patronage system we are trying to change.

To those who say P-Noy has no vision, look: Our political culture has so distorted our sense of values, we are now back to kindergarten—how to tell right from wrong, when to say “Sorry!” or “Thank you!” or “You’re not welcome!”

We wanted an honest leader: “Basta hindi magnanakaw.” It’s up to us to make sure it’s nothing to be sorry about.