Crime and punishment

Imprisonment is seen and understood widely, and quite appropriately, as punishment for offenses made against society. In recent years, however, it has become politically correct to consider imprisonment as more reformatory than punitive.

Be that as it may, reform and punishment in the Philippines continue to be a subjective matter, meaning largely dependent on the kind of status one has in life. The desire to reform and to punish is defeated by what wealth, power and influence can work out behind bars.

True, more and more rich and powerful people in the Philippines are finding themselves behind bars, suggesting among other things that, at least in bringing criminals to justice, the playing field between the haves and the have-nots have been leveled.

But before anyone can truly start exhulting over the fact that the long arm of the law is finally reaching out to grab even the formerly untouchables, the cold and chilly realization suddenly stabs us with the fact that reform and punishment are not the same as finding guilt.

I do not want to push the cart before the horse, but I cannot help but have misgivings about the recent conviction of former Batangas governor Tony Leviste for homicide arising from his shooting to death of his own long-time aide Rafael de las Alas.

My misgivings stem from the long line of similarly influential people sent behind bars who, instead of being subjected to conditions that make reform and punishment possible, end up instead living in relative comfort and luxury, as if they are in prison by choice.

Prison, whether for punishment or for reform, should be devoid of any distinctions. The element of equality is crucial in instilling the notion that the law and justice apply equally to all, especially since inequality itself lies at the root of many crimes.

The list is without doubt very long, considering the number of wealthy and powerful individuals who have been imprisoned for their crimes. But we can tick off a few that stand out --- Joseph Estrada, Romeo Jalosjos, Claudio Teehankee Jr., Ruben Ecleo Jr.

Despite the seriousness of the crimes attributed to them or for which they have been found guilty of, they have never tasted what prison is really like, thus defeating the purpose for which they have been brought to justice.

Jalosjos, Teehankee and Ecleo, for reasons that find merit only in the Philippines, were allowed to enjoy comforts in their cells similar to those found in modest hotels, and privileges many people do not enjoy even in freedom outside the walls.

Jalosjos was given a garden to tinker with. And while most prisons elsewhere would ban any object that can be used as a tool or weapon, Ecleo was allowed to bring in power tools, for God's sake. Why, he was even granted permission to enjoy the comforts of a woman in his cell.

Estrada never sniffed what the air was like behind bars. He was allowed to live in his own resthouse. In your own house you are king. And kings are not punished. And when you are given the privilege to be an exception, you can never reform.

Estrada and Teehankee are now free men, pardoned by a president who makes it her policy to trivialize serious and sacred matters, including holidays. Big fish that ought to fry are being tossed back into the water. No wonder the catch is dwindling.

As this was written, the eventual destination of Leviste was still being processed, as if it really mattered. Wherever he ends up, better believe he will not become unrecognizable just like any other inmate. No wonder he was still smiling when the verdict was read.