I was disappointed then when I heard it reported that the President had encouraged the police officers accused in the murder of a detained town mayor suspected of drug-peddling to plead guilty—promising them that he would extend to them the clemency that it is within his power to grant.
Really, it is in all of us to pardon, and on the day that pardon shall become scarce in this world, on that day shall our humanity also be on the decline, and the world, a truly miserable place to be in.
The pardon of which I write better referred to as the “remission” of criminal penalty. The Constitution grants the President the power to pardon, commute sentences and grant reprieves. And the only limitation to this power is that it cannot be used to negate impeachment proceedings and the conviction that follows. It is awesome because it constitutes in effect a reversal of a judicial act—the act of sentencing and of commanding the execution of sentence. It does not cancel guilt. In fact, in the Philippines, it presupposes guilt, only because, unlike under the US Constitution, the Philippine President can only exercise his powers of clemency following conviction.
In several places in the Constitution, there is a grant of power to one branch that allows it to check—transgress would be a more candid characterization—the powers of another. The Supreme Court can declare statutes unconstitutional. The President can veto a bill passed by both Houses. The Legislature may rescind a declaration of martial law by the President, as it may abolish lower courts except the Supreme Court and, perhaps, also the Sandiganbayan. This interloping of powers is frequently referred to as checks and balances.
When the judiciary is called upon to pronounce the nullity of a law, several stringent requirements must be met, chief among this being that the declaration of nullity is indispensable to the resolution of the dispute. The point is clear: If another way is open that allows for the adjudication of a demandable right without having the courts set aside an act of the Legislature, it will not take the latter, intrusive step. The point therefore is that when one branch “intrudes” upon the powers of another, there must be circumspection, a thoughtful weighing of equities and an avoidance of any rashness or semblance of it.
I was disappointed then when I heard it reported that the President had encouraged the police officers accused in the murder of a detained town mayor suspected of drug-peddling to plead guilty—promising them that he would extend to them the clemency that it is within his power to grant. Not that I begrudge the President his exercise of his powers. But that makes of the whole judicial process an empty spectacle, does it not, for whether guilty or innocent, the accused shall walk free. More perniciously, to my mind, it sends the very bad message that guilt or innocence do not matter—and that cannot be helpful at all to the rule of law. Finally, it cannot be helpful to the President himself who has already received flak for apparently transgressing the precepts of law with impunity and with arrogance.
And if he does choose to pardon the accused the very second they are convicted—should conviction follow—there is no way, I submit, that judicial review can lie to check the President’s exercise of this power. For judicial review is possible only when there are judicial standards to go by, but the brevity and succinctness of the constitutional grant of the power of clemency to the President provide no standards, set no parameters by which a court can say whether or not discretion has been abused. All the more reason to be thoughtful, careful, and circumspect!