A newly arrived expat has an interesting question: why is it that the Philippine government has confiscated billions of pesos officially classified as ill-gotten wealth, but no one has gone to prison for illegally amassing the fortune?
The incongruity was lost to us Filipinos a long time ago, when the Marcoses returned one by one to the country, restarted their lives – toned down but still opulent – and quickly won elective office.
Today, while the nation still hasn’t completed the recovery of all the wealth that Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos are believed to have stashed away, Pinoy taxpayers continue to foot the bill for the perks and upkeep of public offices held by Imeldific and two of her children. The word “honorable†is appended to their official titles.
Earlier this month, the government trumpeted the recovery of $29 million (about P1.3 billion) from two accounts in Singapore – the last of the $687 million stashed away by the Marcoses in Swiss banks.
Switzerland, in an unprecedented move, froze the assets, at the time amounting to $365 million, shortly after the 1986 people power revolt, on suspicion that the deposits were ill-gotten. A decade ago, after the Philippine Supreme Court ruled with finality that the deposits were illegally amassed, the Swiss government turned over the deposits to the Philippines.
It was a significant step for Switzerland, whose banking system for a long time had reaped criticism for being a haven of dirty money.
Switzerland considers the Marcos case a watershed, signaling to the world its intention to prevent despots and plunderers from parking looted wealth in the Swiss banking system.
But the Swiss must also be wondering, like the newly arrived expat: if wealth is ill-gotten, who amassed it illegally?
In our case, nothing has been established definitively in court, and no one has been punished for stealing billions from the Filipino people.
That $687 million – up from the original $356 million because of interest earned – was confiscated because it was looted from Philippine coffers. How can there be looting without looters?
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The Marcos assets come to mind as the pork barrel scandal continues to unfold.
A common question I keep hearing these days is whether anyone will go to prison for pocketing billions from the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF) or congressional pork barrel.
Another question is whether the public will ever get back the funds that were reportedly stolen.
Crime pays handsomely in this country; there are too many high-profile examples of this. Pinoy plunderers have their cake and eat it, too. They get to keep their loot, and even use the assets to finance political campaigns that send them to high office. Ordinary taxpayers who, unlike the obscenely rich, are too stupid to evade taxes or too poor to hire expensive accountants are, as we like to say, fried in our own oil.
Stealing big pays not only for the big fish but also for the small fry who allow themselves to be used for looting public coffers. When caught, the small fry simply turn state witness and they are home free.
If prosecutors have solid evidence – a paper trail and other incriminating documents – to pin down plunderers, there’s no need to allow accomplices and accessories to the crime to cut a deal.
Yesterday at the Senate, PDAF scam whistle-blower Benhur Luy claimed he prepared P960,000 in cash, on orders of alleged scam brains Janet Napoles, that was given in a paper bag to Dennis Cunanan, director general of the Technology Resource Center (TRC).
Cunanan insisted he received no kickbacks from the use of the TRC for the PDAF scam. His testimony can corroborate the story of socialite Ruby Tuason, considered the missing link who can directly pin down Senators Jinggoy Estrada and Bong Revilla and circumstantially implicate Senate Minority Leader Juan Ponce Enrile.
Even if Cunanan received kickbacks, however, he can still be accepted as a state witness. But he can be made to do a Tuason, who has promised to return P40 million that she estimated she received in kickbacks. Judging from his answers to the senators’ grilling yesterday, Cunanan is not prepared to let go of even a cent of his assets.
Tuason, according to a blabbermouth immigration officer, left the country a few days ago ostensibly to raise the P40 million. Some quarters have wondered whether P40 million is a fair amount to return to Juan de la Cruz, or laughably small; her residence alone in Makati’s exclusive Dasmariñas Village should be worth more.
The buzz is that prosecutors are still working to get a missing link to directly pin down Enrile himself. Perhaps his former chief of staff Gigi Reyes can be persuaded to talk – unless she is considered a principal in the scam.
Reyes is reportedly in Morocco, which has no extradition treaty with the Philippines. But Morocco, like the Philippines, has signed and ratified the United Nations Convention Against Corruption, which has been in effect for several years now. Manila can invoke the convention to seek the turnover of Reyes to the Philippine government in connection with a plunder case.
If Enrile is to be cleared in the PDAF scam, his only strategy is to pin the blame on Reyes, to establish in court that she acted on her own even if he had authorized her in writing to act on his behalf in the utilization of his PDAF.
Reyes has indicated that she is unhappy with her former boss’ legal strategy. If prosecutors keep at it, they might yet entice her to talk.
Like Tuason, Reyes may also have to turn over to the state a considerable amount of assets if she wants to turn state witness. According to the grapevine, the assets include an unfinished dwelling in Forbes Park, home of the country’s richest, famous and notorious.
From the ill-gotten wealth cases of the past, we should learn a lesson. Stopping plunder requires two elements: going after the perpetrators, and preventing them or anyone close to them from enjoying the fruits of corruption. There can’t be one without the other.