Shamed

Some years ago I attended a dinner hosted by a Western European diplomat for a visiting member of their parliament.

The venue was the embassy residence in Forbes Park, and I was struck by the conversation between the visitor and his host over the diplomat’s spacious accommodations and his fondness for golf. The visitor was joking but the diplomat was clearly discomfited by the insinuation that he was living it up in his overseas posting.

The reaction was not surprising; the diplomat, who is still in the foreign service, represents a country where there are periodic public outcries against lavish spending by their government officials including lawmakers.

What’s “lavish” by their standards is considered an entitlement by our officials, especially the elected ones.

Just take the case of overseas travel. Many of our public officials think nothing of flying business class at taxpayers’ expense, and even bringing along their spouses, children, grandchildren, nannies and hairdresser. Juan and Juana de la Cruz end up footing much of the bill for the entourage. And if the travel expenses were courtesy of the pork barrel and kickbacks, the entire tab is on us taxpayers.

Diplomats from several countries visited by our officials have told me they found the size of the typical Philippine official delegation remarkably large. They were particularly amazed by the number of lawmakers accompanying presidential visits. If this happened in their countries, several of the diplomats told me, not only would eyebrows be raised but officials could lose their posts.

The official tag-alongs often have their own hangers-on – relatives and friends who enjoy the same special visa processing privileges accorded to the official delegation.

Before the visit here of US President Barack Obama, I asked embassy personnel if he would be accompanied by his wife and two daughters. I was told that this was unlikely because the first lady and the two girls had just visited Asia, exploring Beijing and meeting with Chinese officials.

In our case, presidential visits to the US are always accompanied by the largest official delegations that can include family and friends.

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Shamelessness and lack of remorse are on full display in the pork barrel scam, and in all the other large-scale corruption scandals that have rocked our country in recent years.

Instead what we see is outrage over being prosecuted, along with the complaint that those accused of corruption are being singled out when everyone else is engaged in it.

There is public outrage, but it’s still not commensurate to the staggering amounts involved. Socialite Ruby Tuason, for example, is accused of pocketing over P240 million in kickbacks from the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF) or congressional pork barrel.

That’s an amount the average Pinoy can only hallucinate about earning in his lifetime, even if he lives to be a hundred.

This is only Tuason. Think of how much lawmakers might have earned in kickbacks from the PDAF. They are not going to settle for anything less than what Tuason received, or accused mastermind Janet Lim-Napoles for that matter.

With these amounts, we can begin to grasp why election to Congress or local government or appointment to public office often leads to a dramatic improvement in lifestyle. And why people are willing to commit murder to hold on to their posts or perpetuate a dynasty.

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Well-directed public outrage can stop this abuse of power and predilection for lavish perks.

The outrage has been mustered to some extent in the corruption scandals of recent years, such as the ZTE broadband deal, the fertilizer fund scam and now the PDAF scandal.

But profligacy has not ended and a sense of shame has not been instilled among our so-called public servants. I don’t think we have even discouraged public officials from using tax money or fat kickbacks to pay, for example, for lavish birthday parties for their relatives and even mistresses.

A diplomat from one of the advanced economies told me if any of their government officials hosted such a party even using his own money, the resulting public displeasure would guarantee that the official would lose his job.

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In our society, when we are confronted with official profligacy and wrongdoing, we sigh and joke about it, believing no one may ever face punishment.

Among the recent jokes: What’s the difference between corruption in the US and corruption in the Philippines?

Answer: In the US the corrupt go to jail. In the Philippines, they go to the US.

Those who go to the US or most other countries these days, however, tend to come back, probably after realizing the impact of the United Nations Convention Against Corruption on their chances of evading the law.

Or else they come back in hopes of turning state witness, as Tuason has done, turning over P40 million to the Office of the Ombudsman in exchange for immunity from plunder charges.

It’s doubtful that the P40 million has impoverished her, so perhaps prosecutors can seek larger amounts in case Tuason also wants to talk about the Malampaya Fund and spare herself from another plunder indictment.

But if Sen. Jinggoy Estrada is telling the truth – and he should be when it comes to Tuason, who used to work for his dad Erap – the socialite herself is the mastermind of the Malampaya scam.

Senator Jinggoy seems so sure of Tuason’s role in the Malampaya Fund mess one wonders why he didn’t speak sooner about it. 

Lawmakers are supposed to serve as role models in upholding the law, but in this country, lawmakers are lawbreakers, if the accusations on the PDAF scam are correct.

Napoles, whose lawyer intimated that she would also talk about the Malampaya Fund, may corroborate Estrada’s claim about Tuason’s role.

Being the brains will disqualify Tuason as a state witness, and she could end up in the women’s correctional institution after all, after she has returned much more than P40 million.

The mind-boggling amounts involved in these scandals should lead to an increased public awareness of where our taxes go.

We have to develop a culture where everyone down to the neighborhood kanto boy who pays excise tax for every cigarette and cuatro cantos he consumes will have the good sense to ask, when he spots a government official who seems to be engaged in profligate spending: what are you doing with our money?

Taxpayers must learn to tell such public officials: shame on you.

And our culture should have matured enough for the officials to actually feel ashamed.