Referring to a former Philippine president and his wife, a court justice declared in 2003, “The sum of US$304,372.43 should be held as the only known lawful income of respondents since they did not file any Statement of Assets and Liabilities (SAL), as required by law, from which their net worth could be determined.”
The justice emphasized that under the Constitution, the president could not receive “any other emolument from the Government or any of its instrumentalities,” while an updated version of the Charter prohibited emoluments from “any other sources.”
The president in question was the late Ferdinand Marcos, the Constitutions were circa 1935 and 1973, and the justice who wrote those observations, in Republic v. Sandiganbayan, Ferdinand E. Marcos (represented by his estate/heirs) and Imelda R. Marcos, was Renato Corona.
For those tasked to rule over cases involving ill-gotten wealth, I guess it didn’t matter if Ferdinand and Imelda were legally entitled to combined assets of only $304,372.43. So far, none of the late dictator’s heirs has been convicted of illegally amassing wealth.
The Marcoses’ legal winning streak continued last week, with the Sandiganbayan throwing out a P51-billion damage suit against them in connection with the dollar-salting operations of the so-called “Binondo Central Bank.” The anti-graft court cited the “absence of evidence” in its decision.
Yesterday, the Office of the Solicitor General and the Presidential Commission on Good Government (PCGG) vowed to appeal the ruling.
After the 1986 people power revolt, estimates of the wealth of the Marcoses went as high as $10 billion.
We may never know the exact amount. The Marcoses have issued contrasting statements, with “Imeldific” once saying she planned to give away the family’s wealth to solve Philippine poverty, and her children saying anyone who can find the (non-existent) ill-gotten fortune can keep it.
With certain PCGG officials themselves becoming implicated in improprieties in the past and neglecting the prosecution effort, the hunt for ill-gotten wealth may already be irretrievably compromised.
The new team in the PCGG should determine if charges can be brought against former officials who, if certain reports are accurate, spent much of their time in the commission wasting precious public funds in junkets overseas.
The creation of the PCGG was the first official act of the revolutionary government of Corazon Aquino.
Today, nearly 26 years after her Executive Order No. 1 was issued, and with her only son in charge at Malacañang, the nation is still waiting for the fulfillment of the promise of good government.
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A book produced by the PCGG to mark its 25th anniversary last year used this excerpt from Marcos’ first presidential inaugural address on Dec. 30, 1965: “The presidency will set the example of this official morality and oblige others to follow. Any act of extravagance in government will be considered not only an offense to good morals but also an act punishable with dismissal from office.”
The excerpt accompanied a page with photos of some of Imeldific’s shoes, now on display in a museum in Marikina.
Another excerpt from the inaugural address: “Every form of waste – or of conspicuous consumption and extravagance, shall be condemned as inimical to public welfare. Frugality with government funds and resources must be developed into a habit at every level of the government. High public officials must themselves set the example.”
Imeldific, appointed human settlements minister and governor of what was initially called Greater Manila, did set the example – in world-class conspicuous consumption.
The PCGG book also features photos of some of the expensive items seized from the Marcoses, a number of which were put up for auction by Christie’s.
An antique sapphire and diamond necklace was appraised at $220,000. A tiara studded with diamonds, a cabochon ruby and mabe pearl was valued at $20,000.
But never mind the infamous jewelry collection. There’s also an Egremont silverware set, circa 1800s, valued at $1 million; an 1824 silver cake basket worth $8,000; a pair of 1813 silver-gilt wine coolers ($180,000); and an Italian silver tureen with stand and ladle, ($6,000). There’s an 18-karat gold belt with diamond-studded buckle, valued at $15,000 in 2003.
Perhaps for some people, soup tastes better when served from a tureen worth $6,000. We tend to forget quickly, and are reminded of such extravagance only when the Marcoses win another major legal battle.
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Corona, now the Chief Justice, is himself on trial for, among other things, questions about his SAL (relabeled SALN, for statement of assets, liabilities and net worth) over the past decade.
A foreigner who studied international law pointed out to me that even public officials are entitled to a degree of financial privacy. That sounds reasonable, but the concept works best in countries where public office is not equated with corruption. In this country, the higher the position, it seems, the greater the ill-gotten wealth.
Because of the failure to convict any of the Marcoses for the alleged sins of the dictatorship, there are Filipinos who have also come to believe that if you’re going to steal in this country, it’s better to steal big, because then you can afford the best lawyers who can deliver the best justice that money can buy.
President Aquino has often said he wants to clean up this system.
Filipinos can only hope he will do better than Marcos, whose ascent to power was also littered with avowed noble intentions.