Breaking down the culture of impunity

 

 

It all started with the Marcos dictatorship. In two decades of iron rule, Marcos perfected a system of oppression that knew no bounds, without fear of punishment for illegal wrongdoing for in his own mind his word is the law. Thousands had been killed, jailed and had disappeared. Torture and extrajudicial killings were widely practised with no one brought to the halls of justice for human rights violations.

 

The Marcos years spawned a culture of violence and impunity, and his successors would quietly condone the practice of extrajudicial executions and disappearances of those who voiced their protests against the government. Violence and impunity have become a way of life for the state, so pervasive they have been ingrained into our culture.

Remembering the victims of the Ampatuan massacre, 58 people, 
32 of them journalists, who were brutally murdered 5 years ago in
Maguindano province.

In June 2013, during the World Economic Forum East Asia in Myanmar, President Noynoy Aquino declared that the culture of impunity in the Philippines was over and invited investors to the country. Aquino said: “The culture of impunity is over. Much of what we have done is based on the belief that a sense of justice and the predictability of outcomes breed prosperity.” He added: “It is clear that good governance has created a climate of confidence in the Philippines. If there is no corruption, there will be no poverty.”

 

What was President Aquino thinking? Is he from another planet?

 

I had an almost similar serendipitous experience about two weeks ago in an Internet forum when I brought up the issue of culture of impunity as a stumbling block to a fair, accessible and efficient system of justice. A forum member asked if I was referring to the culture of impunity among lawyers in the bench and other high places. What?

 

It’s high time that President Aquino and like-minded people understand that a culture of impunity is neither caused by corruption or poverty, and that lawyers as a professional group are not responsible for fostering such culture. This a very serious matter and not something we could just quibble with.

 

Impunity simply means exemption from punishment, or the failure to bring perpetrators of human rights violations to justice. As such, impunity constitutes a denial of the right of victims to justice and redress.

 

The Set of Principles for the Protection and Promotion of Human Rights Through Action to Combat Impunity of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights defines impunity as “the impossibility of bringing the perpetrators of violations to account – whether in criminal, civil, administrative or disciplinary proceedings – since they are not subject to any inquiry that might lead to their being accused, arrested, tried and, if found guilty, sentenced to appropriate penalties, and to making reparations to their victims.”

 

Now that we have a clear idea of what impunity means, perhaps we can begin a thorough understanding of what we need to do to combat this pervasive culture of impunity in our country.

 

For journalists alone, the Philippine Centre of Media Freedom & Responsibility reported that an average of six per year is killed for their work. This number may be lower compared to the Gloria Arroyo regime but the number of slain journalists under the Aquino presidency has surpassed those of the administrations of Fidel Ramos and Joseph Estrada.

 

The Centre fears that this continuing violence against journalists will not abate before the end of Aquino’s term in 2016, which shows the failure of the Aquino administration in preventing attacks against the press.

 

The killing of journalists is linked to the larger culture of impunity when wrongdoing of all kinds goes unpunished. For the thousands who had been killed or disappeared during the oppressive Marcos dictatorship, and for the continuing extrajudicial executions and disappearances, not one has been made responsible under the law for either their murder or violations of human rights.

 

Those in authority like the President or his loyal military officers exploit the long arm of the law in persecuting dissenters or those in their judgment are planning to overthrow the government. And if no one is prosecuted for violating the people’s right to express themselves by making them disappear or silencing them permanently through extrajudicial execution, the system of justice breaks down and it spawns a culture of violence.

 

Take the case of former General Jovito Palparan, who is alleged to be the mastermind in extrajudicial abductions and killings of government critics during his military service. Palparan earned the nickname “Berdugo” (“the Butcher”) for his alleged involvement in numerous human rights violations, such as the murder of Edwin Marcellana and Eddie Gumanoy, and the disappearance of University of the Philippines’ student activists Sherlyn Cadapan and Karen Empeno.

 

In 2006, the Melo Commission headed by former Supreme Court Justice Jose Melo rendered a report which concluded that most of the killings of militant activists and journalists were instigated by the military, and recommended that General Palparan and other military officials be held liable. Yet then President Gloria Arroyo did nothing to prosecute Palparan but instead continued with greater impetus the execution of Oplan Bantay Laya, her government’s anti-insurgency operations.

 

Now that Palparan has been arrested after being on the lam for three years, it is highly doubtful if the government will be serious this time around. Palparan is charged with the kidnapping and serious illegal detention of UP students Sherlyn Cadapan and Karen Empeno.

 

According to Senator Antonio Trillanes, once a navy officer, General Palparan only followed orders during his time in the armed forces. In other words, he was just doing his job. But Trillanes has forgotten, or perhaps, he didn’t know, that the defence of following orders has already been debunked by the Nuremberg trial and succeeding cases. Besides, military generals are not strangers to the concept of command responsibility. Maybe, Trillanes was simply channeling himself, a convicted mutineer who staged a coup against his commander-in-chief, that he himself was not fully punished for the crime of rebellion and why should Palparan be made liable when he was simply doing a heroic job to fight communism in the country.

 

Chances are, the prosecution of Jovito Palparan will drag on until the press is no longer interested to report about him, exactly what’s happening to the Ampatuan massacre whose trial is yet to be set down. Five years ago, 58 people, 32 of them journalists, were brutally murdered in Maguindanao province, a most gruesome and brazen massacre in Philippine history. It was the worst attack on the press in history and the most violent single election-related incident in the Philippines.

 

The court proceedings have only dragged on under the watch of President Noynoy Aquino whose administration has shown little interest in pursuing justice for the victims of the massacre. Despite strong international outcry, many are being led to believe that the massacre would end up as another statistic in the long list of unsolved political killings in the Philippines. 

 

Just consider some of the grim realities surrounding the trial: four witnesses have been killed so far, obviously to prevent them from testifying; authorities have failed to arrest 98 suspects who remain at-large; 41 accused policemen have been granted bail because the evidence is found not strong; the head of Army’s 601st Brigade who turned down the victims’ request for security escort has been promoted despite the massacre; allegations that the prosecution team has accepted bribes; and the continuing threats on the victims’ relatives and pressures that they settle amicably with the Ampatuans.

 

President Aquino was criticized before for dismissing media killings as not always work-related. According to the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), a total of 33 journalists have been killed in the line of duty since Aquino took office in 2010 and the President is still bedazzled why. Perhaps this could also explain why he doesn’t understand what a culture of impunity is.

 

On her part, Supreme Court Chief Justice Lourdes Sereno highlights the problem as one of procedural weakness in the justice system, where the courts lack the capability to execute their own writs and processes. In one of her rare public speeches, the Chief Justice admitted that the courts have no means to serve arrest warrants and have little resources to ensure the protection of their servers from the very real threat of retaliation.

 

The culture of impunity is a real enemy, and the indifference of President Aquino has only emboldened those in power to entertain no trepidation in eliminating their most vocal critics and opponents, not excluding those in the media. Offering a lame excuse like the Chief Justice’s most important dilemma in enforcing the law will not solve the injustice in our system. It’s a frame of mind, a way of thinking that has been implanted in our psyche by the long years of dictatorship under Ferdinand Marcos. T

An art exhibit marks the 5th anniversary of the Ampatuan massacre.

The Philippines has an enviable record when it comes to signing up-to-date human rights treaties and ratifying international conventions and agreements, but without a determined and robust prosecution of violators and torturers, all these human rights commitments become empty promises.

 

What must be done?

 

For starters, set down the Ampatuan case to trial, without any more delays, or ifs and buts. The President needs to set aside his ego-bruising experience when the Supreme Court overturned the Disbursement Acceleration Fund. He should extend his hand to the Chief Justice in working together to ensure and secure justice to the victims of the Ampatuan massacre.

 

Next, release all political prisoners and put an end to the state position of repetitive denials that the Philippines does not have political prisoners. In dismissing the existence of political prisoners, the Aquino administration is only replicating the same pronouncements of the Marcos dictatorship which started the practice of rounding up and detaining government protesters.

 

As of November 2014, there are 491 political prisoners in the Philippines, 220 of them were arrested during the current regime. There are 43 female political prisoners, 53 are ailing, 42 are elderly, and six are minors.

 

By releasing all political prisoners, the government will acknowledge that they are not the enemy of the people but the plunderers and those who perpetuate violations of human rights. These are the true enemies of the people who should be jailed.

 

Lastly, establish a genuine Truth and Reconciliation Commission that will be tasked with the final investigation of all past political crimes committed by the state, including illegal imprisonment of those who criticize the government, extrajudicial executions and disappearances. The late President Corazon Aquino decided not to establish such commission after Ferdinand Marcos was deposed apparently because of pressure from the military which was responsible for most of the atrocities and violence committed by the Marcos regime. Most countries who wanted to break from the past like South Africa, Chile, Argentina and others have gone this route and benefitted immensely from the findings and recommendations of such commissions.

 

But we are not talking of a fact-finding body such as the Philippines Truth Commission that was established by Noynoy Aquino upon his ascendancy to the presidency in 2010. Such commission was invalidated by the Supreme Court for violating the equal protection clause for singling out the Arroyo administration. That commission was tagged by the court as vindictive and focused on selective retribution. 

 

Picking up on the Chief Justice’s suggestion of promoting a counter-culture, which she did not define, to the culture of impunity, the words of the Nobel laureate, Elie Wiesel, seem apt for us to take to heart: “There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

A political prisoner’s song

 

 

For Toni Morrison, an African-American writer and Nobel prize winner for literature, the crucial distinction is not the difference between fact and fiction, but between fact and truth. “Because facts can exist without human intelligence, but truth cannot,” she writes.

 

History tells us that repressive governments never waver in denying the truth, until they come crushing down in defeat to the forces of change. Wherever there is repression, there is always a cover-up by those who are culpable. The amazing truth is they almost believe their infallibility, that their crimes against the people would never be exposed.

 

Take the case of the state of political prisoners in the Philippines, for example.

 

President Benigno Aquino III has steadfastly maintained that the present government has no official policy on human rights violations. The spokesperson for President Aquino, Edwin Lacierda, speaking on behalf of his boss, said this is so because there are no political prisoners in the Philippines. Remember that this was also the official line of the Marcos dictatorship from 1972 until 1984 when more than 70,000 political prisoners were arbitrarily detained during the martial law period. The same position was duplicated by President Aquino’s predecessors, from his mother Cory Aquino to Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

Click link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KpNCGgv6Uo to view
"Tanikala at Talinhaga (Chained Metaphors), a doucmentary on artist-
political prisoners in the Philippines, featuring the segment on poet
Ericson Acosta.

Denial has always been the customary practice of repressive governments or states that have no respect for human dignity. Argentina, Chile, Cambodia, Burma and other states that went through a period of repressive rule had denied the existence of political prisoners in their countries. To these despotic regimes, there was only one category of prisoners: prisoners held under criminal law.

 

Without charging anyone for complicity with rebellion or treason or for participation in any political activity that opposed the government, these prisoners were held for common crimes such as murder, assault, robbery, kidnapping, illegal possession of firearms, disturbing the peace, and other garden-variety infractions.

 

Karapatan, a human rights non-governmental organization in the Philippines, has found almost 447 documented victims of illegal arrests under the present Aquino government from July 2010 to September 2012. These were farmers and indigenous peoples rounded up by the Philippine military in the fields and forests on the pretext that they were New People’s Army (NPA) soldiers or supporters. During that same period, Karapatan also documented some 401 political prisoners, with 123 persons arrested and detained by the Aquino government.

 

But the Aquino government deemed these individuals as mere common criminals, who committed crimes against the law, and therefore, must be put in prison. So far, from the time martial law was imposed in 1972 until now, those who have opposed or criticized the government of the Philippines, or who might have participated in political activity opposed to the government whether by peaceful means or resistance, could spend time in jail as common criminals. Yet as common criminals, the irony is they are deprived of their right to a speedy trial to which they are entitled under the Bill of Rights in the Constitution. In fact, they could be detained for as long as the government wants. After languishing in jail, they are released with the charges against them dropped without going to trial.

 

This was the lasting legacy of martial law under Ferdinand Marcos. A legacy that engendered a culture of impunity by the state – from illegal arrests and detention to torture to forced disappearances and extra-judicial killings. Cases upon cases have been documented by Karapatan and other human rights organizations, yet the government continues to deny that there are political prisoners. Only common criminals, the government insists.

 

Very recently last week, President Noynoy Aquino must have suffered from a change of heart. He ordered the creation of an Inter-Agency Committee (IAC) to handle cases of extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances, torture and other forms of human rights abuses committed under the previous administration. Note that documented cases of abuses and violations of human rights under the Aquino administration are not covered by this new human rights body.

 

But why create this human rights “superbody” in the first place?

 

A month ago in Phnom Penh, leaders of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) that included President Aquino adopted a human rights declaration that purportedly would enshrine human right protections for the region’s 600 million people. Philippine Foreign Secretary Albert del Rosario called it as “a legacy for our children.” Immediately, the ASEAN agreement came under fire from various critics including the United Nations rights chief, Navi Pillay, who asked that the pact be postponed because of concerns that it might undermine universal rights standards by allowing loopholes for governments.

 

This didn’t stop President Aquino from jumping the gun and ordering the creation of his government’s new human rights “superbody.” But here’s the catch. Aquino appointed the heads of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) and the Philippine National Police (PNP) as members of the Inter-Agency Committee (IAC). How could we then expect the IAC to be an independent body when the chiefs of the AFP and PNP are involved in investigating and resolving cases of human rights violations carried out by their own members? How is this body different from the Melo Commission during the Arroyo administration? Recall that despite evidence pointing to members of the military and the police as perpetrators of human rights violations, the Melo Commission exonerated them of any complicity or responsibility for crimes against human rights.

 

Critics of the ASEAN human rights pact are right in stating that the declaration only lowers human rights standards by creating new loopholes and justifications ASEAN members can use to justify abusing the rights of their citizens. Aquino’s Inter-Agency Committee, other than a mere publicity stunt for the administration’s avowed seriousness in defending human rights, is just another new loophole for the government to absolve the military and the police of abuses and violations of human rights.

 

If President Aquino is truly sincere with his promise three years ago to uphold human rights, he can begin with a declaration of amnesty to all political prisoners who are languishing in various prisons in the country. But first, he must admit that there are political prisoners in the Philippines. The recognition of political prisoners is essential to a democratic and national reconciliation process. Denial of their political status is a denial of their human dignity.

December 3 marks the International Day of Solidarity with Political Prisoners as
detainees around the world raise awareness of their plight and longing for freedom
through poetry reading. Click link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SVLRtgjqrE
to listen  to Anakbayan-Toronto as they read on Radyo Migrante "Awit ng Bilanggong
Politikal/Political Prisoner's Song,"  a poem written by peasant advocate, Axel Pinpin.

Last Monday, December 3, political prisoners from all over the Philippines commemorated the International Day of Solidarity with Political Prisoners with a reading of a poem about the longing for freedom. The poem, “Awit ng Bilanggong Politikal” (Political Prisoner’s Song) was written by Axel Pinpin, a peasant advocate imprisoned during the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo administration. Pinpin was arrested in Tagaytay City along with four others and spent more than two years in prison before being released without trial for alleged crimes.

 

Originally written in Filipino, the poem has been translated in seven languages, including French, Spanish, Portuguese and Russian. Pinpin’s poem was read by political prisoners in Quezon Provincial Jail, Laguna Provincial Jail, Camp Vicente Lim, Batangas Provincial Jail, Bicutan Detention Center, Philippine National Police (PNP) Custodial Center at Camp Crame and other detention facilities in Bicol and Samar. High-profile political prisoners in other countries, including journalist Mumia Ali-Jamal, the Cuban 5, punk band Pussy Riot and Kurdistan revolutionary leader Abdullah Öcalan also joined the poetry reading.

 

Here’s Axel Pinpin’s poem:

 

Ang pader ko’y di lamang malamig at malagkit,

Nakakwadro rin dito ang latay ng pasakit.

Ang sahig ko’y di lamang marumi at maganit,

Nakaratay din dito ang tisikong inip.

Ang rehas ko’y di lamang kalawang ang galis,

Naglangib na rin dito ang paglayang nais.

 

(My wall is not only cold and unkempt,

Framed on it is the welt mark of torment.

My floor is not only dirty and roughly done,

Laid on it is my sick boredom

My prison bars do not only have rust for scabs,

Crusting on it are wounds of longed for freedom.)

 

Wisikan ng tula ang langib ng paglaya!

Wasakin, wasakin ang rehas na sutla!

Wakasan, wakasan ang salot ng pagdusta!

Bumangon sa dilim na ngitngit ang tanglaw!

Banggain, banggain ang pader na ampaw!

Banggain ang karsel na pagtakas ang hiyaw!

 

(Wash with the salve of poems the wounds of freedom!

Bash, bash down the smooth bars of prison!

Smash, and smash down the pestilence of oppression!

Rise, rise up in the night with the raging light!

Break, break down the weak walls of repression!

Fight, fight back incarceration with cries of emancipation!)

The ghosts of martial law

 

Last year during the 39th anniversary of the declaration of martial law, Edwin Lacierda, the spokesperson of President Benigno Aquino III, was asked what changes the Aquino administration had initiated to improve the human rights situation. In his reply, Lacierda said, “We have no political prisoners.”



The Aquino government continues to deny that there are political prisoners in
the Philippines. Click link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9DC4rLtge8
to view "Political Prisoners in the Philippines."

Lacierda also said that the Aquino administration has no official policy on human rights violations. Pointing to the appointment of Etta Rosales as chairperson of the Commission on Human Rights, who herself was a victim of torture under the Marcos regime, Lacierda said this was proof that “We frown on human rights violations.”

 

In denying that there are no political prisoners in the Philippines, at least under the Aquino presidency, Lacierda argued that the list under the Joint Agreement on Safety and Immunity Guarantees (JASIG) bore this out. The list he was referring to contained the names of the persons supposed to be protected by JASIG, who were participants in the peace talks between the government and the National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP). But the list contained assumed names (aliases) as agreed upon by both panels to ensure the security of the peace talk participants, including their consultants and staff.

 

Because Lacierda and the government could not decrypt the JASIG list (complaining that there were even no pictures), he used this as his term of reference why no political prisoners exist in the Philippines. Lacierda must have thought that the NDFP supplied in one list the names of all the political prisoners languishing in various jails and detention centres in the country. The list actually had only the names of the NDFP peace panel members and consultants. Either Lacierda, who is a lawyer, was being overly technical in asking for a clearer term of reference or simply dim-witted to deny that political prisoners in the Philippines are in fact deemed as common criminals and incarcerated along with those charged with murder, theft, robbery and other common crimes.

 

There is nothing novel in Lacierda’s denial. Ferdinand Marcos said the same thing when he said that there were no political prisoners during the martial law period. It has been the official practice of the Philippine government from the time of Marcos to lump all political prisoners with common criminals. From the time of martial law under Marcos, no person has ever been charged with rebellion or treason or for participation in any political activity that opposed the government, but only for crimes such as murder, assault, robbery, kidnapping, illegal possession of firearms, disturbing the peace, and other garden-variety common crimes.

 

Even the President’s father Ninoy Aquino was jailed by Marcos for trumped-up charges of murder, illegal possession of firearms and subversion. Not because he was an outspoken critic of the Marcos administration. Ninoy Aquino was never prosecuted for his political opposition to the martial law regime.

 

How would President Benigno Aquino III react if told that his father was never a political prisoner, but just a common criminal? When in fact Ninoy Aquino was the foremost political detainee at the time.

 

Why would hundreds of other political dissenters and innocent victims of state repression continue to suffer imprisonment? Is it because there are no political prisoners? The President must have a short memory: he has already forgotten that one of the first things his mother, the late President Corazon Aquino, proclaimed upon assuming the presidency after martial law was a general amnesty and to release all political prisoners.

 

A political prisoner is someone who is in prison because he has opposed or criticized the government of his own country. Why most political prisoners have the taken the path of most resistance is not difficult to understand.

 

When Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law on September 21, 1972, he imposed his own will outside of the limits of the Constitution. He ruled by decree and curtailed press freedom and other civil liberties. He closed down Congress and ordered the arrest of opposition leaders and militant activists, including his staunchest critics and potential contenders to the presidency, Senators Benigno Aquino, Jr., Jovito Salonga and Jose Diokno.



Ferdinand Marcos declaring martial law in the Philippines on September 21, 1972.
Click http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFDB25C4DA6DFF2E0  to view "Batas
Militar: Martial Law in the Philippines" by the Philippine Presidency  Project, a two-hour
 long video produced by Foundation Worldwide People Power (FWWPP).

The economy floundered under martial law because Marcos and his cronies were stealing the country’s wealth. Repression was widespread as the military establishment under Marcos became more entrenched and powerful. They could arrest anyone on mere suspicion and make them disappear.

 

Military historian Alfred McCoy in his book, Closer than Brothers: Manhood at the Philippine Military Academy, cited 3,257 extrajudicial killings, 35,000 torture victims, and 70,000 incarcerated during the Marcos martial law period.

 

As the people were deprived of their political and civil rights, their only viable option was to take to the hills and the path of most resistance. All revolutions are born from similar conditions. Oppressive social structures and economic inequalities often have pushed dissenters to take the road to resistance. Many of these people are poor, weak and belong to underprivileged communities. Where there is state repression, people will always be attracted to fight back.

 

From the martial law years until the present time, political prisoners have been arrested without the veneer of legality, where false criminal charges and manufactured evidence are used to disguise the fact that an individual is a political prisoner. This situation is most common when human rights are violated and abused, to the point of establishing a culture of impunity by the state.

 

The legacy of arrest and detention of political prisoners during the Marcos martial law years has never been broken. As it persisted during the Marcos time, justice became a flexible notion and depended on what was in the best interests, not of the people, but of the state and its dictator. Prosecution was used as a political tool and the presumption of innocence was just an abstract liberal legal principle. While the enemies of the Marcos regime could easily have been liquidated, which in some cases were made through enforced disappearances and extra-judicial killings, the government also opted to make efficient use of the criminal justice system to destroy them. Instead of accusing them of political crimes, they would invent propped-up charges of common crimes. Depriving them of their day in court, they would languish in detention, sometimes tortured and deprived of their decency. What was lacking from the treatment of political prisoners during that time was a “show trial,” a practice that was normally staged in other repressive states where the defendant was brought before the court, a broken and hollow man, to confess his crimes.

 

Putting in prison those who oppose the government, or even forcing their disappearances or extra-judicially liquidating them is a legacy from the martial law years. Today, such arrest and prolonged detention of political prisoners keep lingering on. There are at present about 385 political prisoners, not identified as such but mixed with common criminals, who continue to languish in prison for exercising their right to civil society freedoms.

 

Since President Benigno Aquino III became president, there have been 99 victims of extrajudicial killings and 11 cases of enforced disappearances. Majority of the victims are farmers, indigenous peoples and activists advocating for land rights and environmental protection.

 

In its second-quarter report, the local human rights group Karapatan also documented 60 victims of frustrated killings, 67 victims of torture, 93 victims of physical assault and injury perpetrated by suspected state security forces.

 

We don’t need to have a better definition of terms or perhaps a clearer term of reference on human rights as Lacierda has suggested. In addition to the rule of law that the Philippines upholds, it is also a signatory to almost all international instruments on human rights. Instead of denial, Lacierda and his likes, including the President, have all the terms of reference before their disposal to inform them on why we have political prisoners in the Philippines including ongoing violations and abuse of human rights.

 

All those who are in a state of political denial, such as President Aquino, his spokesperson and others can start with a clear appreciation of September 21, 1972, and be ever mindful of the ghosts of martial law that continue to haunt us as a nation.