Exercise in futility

It appears most people watching the House hearings last Wednesday, starring former Commission on Elections Commissioner Virgilio Garcillano, were disappointed because the common fund of knowledge in regard to circumstances behind the "Garci tapes" was hardly enriched by the proceedings.

Garcillano was, as everyone now knows, fresh from his lengthy sojourn in the jungles of Mindanao. Assuming that was really what kept him busy, and inaccessible, he certainly looked none the worse despite trekking for months through virgin forests and Ho Chi Minh-like trails.

The ordeal evidently agreed with him. The man even gained weight and was only slightly more tanned than the last time he was seen at the Comelec offices elbowing cameramen and nosy reporters out of the way while snarling "no comment" at all who dared shove a microphone up his mouth.

He also seemed quite practiced at what he said, hewing closely to the advance notices of his intended refrain. The beleaguered former election official stuck pretty much to the line that he wouldn’t answer any question concerning the tapes.

Bad idea. Right on cue, those irrepressible legal luminaries of the House, veritable legends in their own minds, let loose with erudite disquisitions on why Garcillano could not resort to sub judice, illegal wiretapping or the right against self-incrimination to avoid answering the penetrating questions of our aforesaid legal luminaries.

As it happens, the let’s-kill-all-the-lawyers brigade notwithstanding, there were a few legal nuggets in that tsunami of verbiage when Oliver Wendell Holmes look-alikes and impersonators took turns in the spotlight, courtesy of a most charming and accommodating chairperson. She was making her debut before the TV cameras vice the more-in-control but understandably morose ex-chair Gilbert Remulla.

We learned, for instance, about that House rule which prohibits a witness in an inquiry in aid of legislation from resorting to a pending case in court as a ground for declining to answer questions. Sub judice, it appears, doesn’t work all the time. Neither does the right against self-incrimination, if it is unclear how the answer might incriminate the witness, as in this case where Garcillano steadfastly refused to acknowledge that the voice on the Garci tapes was his.

To me, however, there were two highlights to last Wednesday’s hearing. One was Garcillano’s denial that his nickname is Garci. It wasn’t clear whether his correct nickname is Gil or Virgil or Iloy. I guess it’s for us to find out, and for him to keep secret from all except those closest to his heart. For all we know, he may have different nicknames for different purposes or different people. But if true, the effect of calling him by an improper nickname would be to lay waste all those text messages, ring tones, and even some recorded ditties which poked fun at the "Hello, Garci" greeting. It could well be cited too by GMA as final proof of her innocence.

The other highlight was his disclosure of the names of various senators and congressmen who he claimed to have been his phone pals during the last national elections. That caused a lot of snickering and booing in the partisan audience at the House session hall. I understand it also caused some sleepless nights among some solons who thought they might be named. I can’t see why. After all, Garci, er, Garcillano made clear that none of the persons named talked to him about anything illegal or improper.

But one clue to the reason for their discomfiture was when, in answer to a demand that he reveal what the actual subjects of those conversations were, Garcillano said he would wait for their replies or comments to his revelation. Most of the named legislators thought, correctly I felt, that that was an obvious trap. If they confirmed in writing that nothing illegal or improper was discussed, then they would establish two points: one, that many people, especially candidates, indeed called the Commissioner; and two, that the conversations were largely innocent pleas to guard one’s vote against cheaters.

You’d have to bedumber than dumb not to see the connection with the alleged conversations with a President cum presidential candidate.

There was also one strange aspect to the affidavit Garcillano submitted to the House containing the names of the legislators he claimed called him. At least one name, I am reliably informed, was deleted from the list, meaning the name was initially on the list but crossed out and then initialed by the affiant. That naturally leads to questions why, and whether the list was complete or "tailored" to meet the needs of the moment.

Finally, if the legislators who feared exposure had nothing to hide, then why worry? Their colleagues surmise, only half-jokingly, that Garcillano knows something and will spring that juicy tidbit at a strategically more opportune time.

I think we’ll have to wait until next Tuesday, when the House committees reconvene, to find out if the appearance of Garcillano will turn out to be much ado over nothing or whether the opposition congressmen are priming the country for some kind of cataclysmic outburst which will turn the tide for them.

Frankly, it will probably be more of the same inconclusive bovine scatology. Garcillano won’t budge, watch him. Even a contempt citation against him, which Rep. Edcel Lagman has threatened more than once, won’t get beyond the impregnable wall of the majority. Those legal luminaries will have another day before the television cameras, and little else.

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Yo-Yo Yeo.–I was going to devote some valuable space to this budding successor to Manny Salgado, but have decided to get a little more info before I do. What was Joseph Yeo thinking, I wonder, when he came out of a tough rebound play slugging.

This was an exhibition, "goodwill" match between arch-rivals Ateneo and La Salle. It was billed as a "dream" basketball game, for heaven’s sake, and was organized by alumni of both schools. This may be an argument against putting PBA pros, who are used to hard physical play, on the same court with spoiled amateurs with short fuses and overrated opinions of themselves.

What sort of mind induces one to thrash out with a cheap shot, the kind that’s undeservedly becoming a trademark of the uniform he wears. One afflicted with bipolar disorder, perhaps, and the mood swings the illness causes? Nah, probably just a terminal case of childishness which a degree in Translation Studies won’t cure.

I’ll have more to say about this. Trust me.