I SHOULD be celebrating. After a l l, I once filed a libel case against Jesus Falcis. The case was dismissed because I was deemed a public personality and therefore expected to tolerate a greater degree of criticism than an ordinary citizen. It was not an outcome that endeared him to me. If anyone could be expected to welcome the recent decision of the Supreme Court suspending him from the practice of law for one year, it should be me. Yet my reaction is not satisfaction. It is sympathy, mixed with unease.
My concern is not primarily about Falcis. Rather, it is about what his suspension reveals regarding accountability, legal ethics and the consistency with which standards are applied in our institutions.
Falcis was suspended because of a social media post he made in 2018 while defending his brother in a public dispute involving Kris Aquino. The Supreme Court found the language vulgar, profane and inconsistent with the dignity expected of lawyers. The court emphasized that members of the bar remain officers of the court even when posting online and that professional obligations extend beyond the courtroom.
As a matter of legal ethics, the ruling is understandable. Lawyers are held to a higher standard than ordinary citizens. One can criticize, argue and advocate without resorting to profanity and insults. The court was therefore within its authority to remind lawyers that ethical responsibilities do not disappear on social media.
Yet the decision raises a troubling question. If a vulgar tweet warrants a one-year suspension from the practice of law, what consequences should attach to conduct that appears substantially more serious?
This question inevitably brings Sara Duterte into the discussion.
Many Filipinos remember the 2011 incident involving then-Davao City mayor Sara Duterte and Sheriff Abe Andres. The confrontation was caught on video and shown nationwide. Duterte repeatedly punched the sheriff while he was implementing a demolition order issued by a court. The sheriff was not a political opponent or a participant in a public controversy. He was an officer of the court carrying out a lawful judicial directive.
The symbolism of that incident was difficult to miss. A lawyer and public official physically assaulted an officer of the court while he was performing his duty. Whatever one’s political affiliation, such conduct directly implicates respect for the judiciary and the rule of law.
More recently, Duterte again became controversial when she publicly hurled profanities against President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., first lady Liza Araneta-Marcos, and former House speaker Martin Romualdez. More significantly, she stated that she had instructed someone to kill them if she herself were killed. Whether one interprets the statement as a genuine threat, a reckless outburst, or a conditional declaration of retaliation, it was serious enough to trigger investigations and heightened security concerns.
The comparison is unavoidable. On one hand is a lawyer who posted a profane tweet attacking people he considered politically biased. On the other is a lawyer who physically assaulted a court sheriff and later made public statements involving the killing of national leaders.
Which conduct poses the greater threat to respect for law and institutions? Which conduct more seriously undermines public confidence in the legal profession? Which conduct more fundamentally violates the ideals of restraint, dignity and respect for lawful authority?
The answers seem obvious.
To be clear, this is not an argument that Falcis should have escaped discipline. Nor is it an argument that Sara Duterte should automatically be disbarred. The issue is not the correctness of a particular outcome but the consistency of the standards being applied.
Consistency is the foundation of the rule of law. Citizens may disagree with individual decisions, but they are more likely to respect institutions when they believe that the same standards are applied to everyone. The moment people begin to suspect that accountability depends on political influence, family name, or public stature, trust in institutions begins to erode.
This principle is particularly important in the legal profession. Lawyers occupy a privileged position because society entrusts them with responsibilities central to the administration of justice. Professional discipline is not simply about punishment. It is about protecting the integrity of the profession and preserving public confidence in the legal system.
That is why the Falcis case raises a larger question about what values we are actually trying to protect. If our concern is civility, then vulgar language certainly deserves condemnation. If our concern is professionalism, then offensive social media posts may legitimately warrant sanctions. However, if our concern is respect for law and institutions, then physically assaulting a court officer strikes much closer to the heart of the matter.
The issue is not whether Falcis was wrong. The issue is whether the standards applied to him are being applied with equal vigor to others whose conduct appears objectively more serious.
For this reason, I find myself unable to celebrate. Despite my personal history with Falcis, I cannot ignore the broader implications of the case. The suspension forces us to confront an uncomfortable but necessary question: Are ethical standards being enforced consistently, or are they being enforced selectively?
The strength of the rule of law is measured not by how effectively it disciplines the unpopular but by whether it applies the same principles to the powerful. If a vulgar tweet can justify a one-year suspension from the practice of law, then the public is entitled to ask why conduct involving physical violence against a court officer and public statements contemplating violence against national leaders have not attracted comparable professional consequences.
Until that question is answered convincingly, the Falcis decision will remain difficult to celebrate. The issue is no longer about Jesus Falcis. It is about whether the standards governing the legal profession are truly universal, or whether they are applied differently depending on who stands before the bar of public judgment. For when the law appears more offended by vulgar words than by violence against its own officers, it risks teaching the public that accountability is measured not by the gravity of the offense but by the identity of the offender.
The author is a professor at the University of the Philippines Los Baños and vice chairman of the board of the state-owned PTV Network Inc.