Test of a nation

South Korea famously sent two of its former presidents and several of its top chaebol executives to prison for corruption and other crimes. The two ex-presidents were seen by Koreans wearing regulation orange prison garb.

Perhaps Korea has a different culture. So let’s move closer to home. Last Saturday, the former head of Singapore’s Civil Defense Force was dismissed from the civil service for obtaining sex from a woman whose company wanted to win a contract from his office. Peter Lim earlier pleaded guilty to seven similar charges involving two other women. He has been in prison since June, serving a six-month sentence.

This is seen as a rare, surprising case in squeaky-clean Singapore (and Pinoys will probably consider six months in prison too light) so let’s move elsewhere, to a society closer to ours, in the land of many of our ancestors.

Indonesia, in the past decade, has sent about 60 members of parliament, a Cabinet member, provincial governors and a city mayor to prison for corruption.

Can we do the same to the powerful members of our political establishment who are now being implicated in the pork barrel scandal? And can this happen with the same speed achieved by the Indonesian anti-corruption commission?

Indonesians will understand what we mean when we talk of a culture of corruption. Their country had its Ferdinand Marcos in Suharto who, like other Asian strongmen of that era, presented his dictatorial rule as “benevolent authoritarianism.”

Suharto institutionalized crony capitalism and thrived on patronage politics. For a long time, he was seen as the traditional Javanese father figure, protective and providing generously for the needs of his vastly extended family as he steered Indonesia toward economic prosperity.

In turn, the extended family and cronies gave their patron loyalty, putting themselves at his service, and looking the other way if he committed transgressions. But in the twilight of his 32 years in power, Suharto was seen as a sinister dalang, the puppet master in Indonesia’s wayang or shadow play.

We have many politicians who, in their local fiefdoms, are regarded like Suharto at the height of his power. Several of these politicians have been implicated in the pork barrel scam, with a clear paper trail presented by the Commission on Audit (COA).

Whether we can prosecute and, more importantly, punish them will be a test of the maturity of our democratic nation. So far, the early signs haven’t been encouraging.

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There are supporters of President Aquino who are dismayed by the VIP treatment enjoyed by businesswoman Janet Lim-Napoles. The best explanation they can think of is that the officials suspected of involvement are so powerful and so high up in government that no less than the president of the republic had to guarantee Napoles’ safety, personally escorting her in case someone planned to stage an ambush before she could be processed for arrest.

P-Noy should learn his lesson from this episode. If he still can’t get what the fuss is all about, he should consider what the impression would be if US President Barack Obama, for example, welcomed an accused racketeer at the White House and then personally led the convoy to escort the suspect to a detention facility.

It’s one thing to worry about the personal safety of someone with the potential to bring down some of the nation’s wealthiest and most powerful individuals. It’s quite another for the president himself to bring the suspect in, entertain her at Malacañang, and then personally escort her, together with key Cabinet members and the chief of the Philippine National Police, to PNP headquarters at Camp Crame. Can’t the PNP chief be entrusted with that task?

P-Noy probably thinks he’s still a senator moving to bring in Jun Lozada from Hong Kong, where the Arroyo administration had hoped the whistle-blower on the ZTE broadband scam would remain in exile until the corruption scandal could blow over. But Lozada was not the accused mastermind in the broadband deal.

Even Lozada is now fretting over what the opposition has described as the “concierge treatment” enjoyed by Napoles at the hands of the daang matuwid administration.

That bungalow at the police Special Action Force camp is The Ritz-Carlton for detainees (air-conditioning optional), regardless of what ex-con Joseph Estrada thinks of it. Especially if it is compared with the alternative: the crowded, dirty, dank Makati City Jail, infested with cockroaches, rodents and mosquitoes, with stinky communal lavatories and dirt-cheap detainee food.

So why not find a small cell for the solitary confinement of a high-value detainee, with a septic tank and wash basin in one corner, equipped with CCTV so the inmate can be monitored 24/7 to prevent murder or suicide?

The VIP accommodations you can understand for former presidents accused of plunder (the South Koreans won’t understand). But for the former president of a network of dubious non-government organizations and companies… there must be someone at Malacañang who can understand the public indignation.

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Napoles’ red carpet treatment from P-Noy was meant for a potential state witness against powerful VIPs, not for a suspect. But how important is her testimony to bring down the powerful? And can the nation afford seeing her get off with a virtual slap on the wrist in exchange for her testimony?

Those who are opposing proposals to allow Napoles to become a state witness are arguing that even without her turning against her political benefactors, the COA special audit report (despite some glaring mistakes) is sufficient to put away for life several powerful politicians.

The COA chief has all the incriminating documents, including letters of endorsement signed by senators. With the COA report now posted in cyberspace, murdering the chief auditor, or the ombudsman or even Napoles would make little difference.

And if the COA expands its special audit to the P-Noy years, the ranks of Congress could be decimated.

This brings us back to the question: will anyone be punished in this scandal? Unless someone prominent is punished, you can be sure politicians will retain some form of control over the utilization of public funds – with all the possibilities for misuse that this setup offers – even if the pork barrel as we know it is abolished right now.

Only punishment will ensure that reforms to bring transparency and accountability in a flawed democratic system of budgeting will be institutionalized, with politicians thinking 10 times before even considering whether they should attempt to go around the system and abuse it for personal gain.

And punishment works best when it is swift and decisive.