*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
Introduction
“Sometimes you have to bend the law in order to please the people.”
When Senator Erwin Tulfo spoke these words during a Blue-Ribbon Committee hearing, the reaction was swift and harsh. He was called “unsenatorial,” ridiculed as reckless, and dismissed as if he had spoken against the very foundation of democracy. But perhaps, beneath the noise, his statement deserved a fairer hearing.
I do not embrace the “trial by publicity” style that has defined the Tulfo name for decades. Yet as I reflect on his remark, I find myself asking: Was Tulfo truly calling for mob justice, or was he simply misunderstood? If we read his words in their best light, his intention may have been noble—bending the law in the spirit of compassion. But because of the Tulfo Brand of Justice, people assumed the worst—that he meant instant justice.
The Two Faces of Bending the Law
To understand the controversy, we must recognize that
“bending the law” can mean two very different things.
- Bending
for Compassion (Moral)
This form of bending acknowledges that strict application of
the law can sometimes cause hardship. It is usually exercised by
implementors—police officers, judges, administrators—who face situations where
fairness demands flexibility.
Imagine a jeepney driver running a red light to rush a sick
passenger to the hospital. By the letter of the law, the officer should issue a
fine. But by the spirit of justice, a warning may be more appropriate. This
bending does not betray the law—it fulfills it by serving its higher purpose.
Philippine jurisprudence affirms this. In Oposa v. Factoran
(1993), the Supreme Court bent traditional rules of standing by allowing
children to sue on behalf of future generations. It was bending not for
spectacle but for compassion, ensuring that justice served the greater good.
- Bending
for Instant Justice (Immoral)
The second kind of bending is dangerous. It bypasses due
process to deliver quick punishment. It is dramatic, it pleases the crowd, but
it undermines fairness. This is what many associate with the Tulfo brand, built
on televised confrontations where wrongdoers were shamed and judged in real
time.
In this form, bending the law is not mercy—it is mob justice. It may satisfy frustration, but it corrodes the very principle of rule of law.
Why Tulfo Was Misunderstood
This is where the misunderstanding lies. If another senator had said “bend the law,” many would have assumed he meant compassion. But when Tulfo said it, people immediately remembered the Tulfo Brand of Justice. They did not hear compassion; they heard instant judgment.
In truth, his words could have carried good intention. He may have wanted to emphasize that the law must be applied with humanity, that rules should not be so rigid as to crush ordinary people. That is a point worth agreeing with. But because of his family’s history of instant justice, his remark was interpreted in the harshest way.
In short, Tulfo’s problem was not only what he said but also what his name represented.
Everyday Illustrations
To see how the misunderstanding plays out, consider simple
examples:
- On the
streets: A first-time violator forgiven with a warning—that is bending for
compassion. A petty offender paraded before cameras without hearing—that
is instant justice.
- In
courts: A judge admitting late evidence to protect the innocent is
compassionate bending. A senator declaring guilt in a hearing without
trial is instant justice.
- In politics: A leader bending parliamentary rules to allow more debate is compassion. A leader making verdicts for applause is instant justice.
The same phrase—“bending the law”—can mean very different things. Unfortunately for Tulfo, the public heard the wrong one.
Why People Like Instant Justice
We cannot ignore why many Filipinos welcomed Tulfo’s brand in the first place. Courts are slow, corruption is rampant, and cases drag on for decades. Ordinary citizens often feel powerless, so they cheer when someone delivers swift accountability—even if due process is bypassed.
Tulfo tapped into this frustration, and his brand became popular because it gave people the illusion of justice. But illusion is not reality. Real justice requires evidence, fairness, and procedure. Instant justice may feel satisfying today, but it weakens the foundation of democracy tomorrow.
A Noble Purpose, Drowned by Perception
This is why I see Tulfo’s statement as misunderstood. If we give him the benefit of the doubt, his purpose was noble—calling for laws to bend with compassion, to show that governance is not blind to human needs. In that sense, I would agree with him.
But in the eyes of the public, conditioned by years of Tulfo-style media justice, his words meant something else: bending the law for instant justice. And so, instead of sparking thoughtful discussion, his statement was ridiculed. His intent, if noble, was drowned by perception.
The Risk of Misinterpretation
This episode is more than a personal problem for Tulfo—it is a national lesson. We must learn to distinguish between bending for compassion and bending for instant justice. Compassion strengthens democracy by humanizing law. Instant justice weakens it by replacing law with spectacle.
If leaders cannot communicate this difference clearly, they risk being misunderstood, just as Tulfo was. And when public perception confuses mercy with mob rule, democracy itself suffers.
In a Nutshell
Senator Erwin Tulfo’s statement—“sometimes you have to bend the law in order to please the people”—was provocative but, I believe, misunderstood. If he meant bending for compassion, then his purpose was noble, and I would support that. But because of the Tulfo Brand of Justice, the public interpreted his words as a defense of instant justice. That is why he was ridiculed. That is why he was branded “unsenatorial.”
I do not support instant justice, but I can recognize that Tulfo may have had a better intention than he was given credit for. His words remind us that leaders must not only mean well—they must also communicate well. Otherwise, noble intentions will always be lost in translation.
In the end, bending the law must always lean toward
compassion, never toward instant justice. One uplifts people; the other betrays
them. And unless we learn to tell the difference, we will continue to mistake
mercy for spectacle—and risk confusing justice itself.
