Turtles, houses, cars and Rizal

A high ranking official, upon assuming office, was quoted as saying that he would not obtain for himself an expensive car. The money could be used to increase the fringe benefits of the employees.

Many of us (this columnist included) applauded the priorities thus manifested by that act.

Subsequently however, a severe reprimand was administered by no less than the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. The statement of the newly installed official was considered derogatory to the other officials, including the highest, and an apology was demanded. The acquisition of a car of superior quality is not for the sake of the person but for the dignity of the office.

When elephants fight, the mice scamper away. So we shall not presume to take sides in that quarrel. Prescinding however from all personalities and speaking merely of values and attitudes, I was reminded of a witty remark made by Rizal in the Noli me tangere. It was important (he said) to describe a house because – "nosotros los mortales en general somos como las tortugas: valemos y nos califican por nuestras conchas." ("We mortals in general are like turtles: our value is assessed and we are classified according to our shells.")

We are impressed by appearances, by public image. If a person lives in a palatial home and is driven about in an expensive car, he is considered of some consequence. If his house is modest and his car is old, he is rated of no importance.

And yet, appearances can be deceiving. Jacqueline Kennedy, when she was First Lady of the United States, used to dress very simply. Her clothes must have been extremely expensive, but they were very plain. They were very different from the elaborate dresses which are described as "creations" of some famous cotourier.

I remember seeing in a subdivision in a southern city a compound in which there were three mansions. Not just houses, mansions. I asked whose they were. I was told they were owned by a person who worked for the government in a lowly position and on a modest salary, but who had managed to amass great wealth.

Agatha Christie in one of her best novels described a hotel situated in a side street in London, unassuming, "quietly expensive." Very different from the showy palatial 5-star hotels patronized by the vulgarly rich tourists.

There is a well-known Spanish saying: "La mona, aunque se viste de seda, mona se queda." ("A monkey, dressed in silk, remains a monkey.")

Among Goya’s paintings is a portrait of a King of Spain dressed – or rather overdressed – in royal garments, with red sash and colorful trimmings. The King looks like a comic character on the stage.

By contrast one of the most poignant details in the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ was when on Calvary they stripped him of his clothes. He was crucified naked. He did not need clothes to preserve his dignity.

King Lear in that great climax of Shakespeare’s play tears off his clothes and exposes himself naked to the storm. Yet he remains "every inch a king."

When we learn to value a person by what he or she is rather than what he or she has – and when we learn to appreciate simplicity and moderation – we shall then have learned true wisdom.