Conchita Carpio Morales: The Fury

By Kap Maceda Aguila

Just beneath the skylight of the Office of the Ombudsman’s new building (completed under her watch) on Agham Road in Quezon City, Morales gamely poses for the camera – smiling warmly despite an angry noontime sun beaming through the glass roof. A little heat never hurt the Ombudsman.

There is no doubt that the media continues to have a significant hand in shaping the average person’s opinion of Ombudsman Conchita Carpio Morales, but “Chit” doesn’t really seem to take offense in the stern persona put across pixels and column inches. “There’s no such thing as accurate. But it’s (actually) a fair assessment,” she declares in an exclusive interview with PeopleAsia.

As the chief prosecutor who receives reports of acts or omissions of public officers and employees — including those in government-owned or controlled corporations — “alleged to be illegal, unjust, improper or inefficient,” the Ombudsman is used to the attention, favorable or otherwise. Like any of the avenging deities in Greek mythology, this “Fury” fears no criminal.

When asked if it is easy to distinguish, or even switch, from Citizen Chit to hard-nosed Ombudsman, she replies: “You know, I’m a Gemini. Twins. Even my moods are mercurial. Sometimes high, sometimes low. The Ombudsman side of me is very fierce to instill discipline. The private side of it is that I can be soft.”

She quickly adds: “I didn’t say I am soft. I can be. I am human, after all.”

On the whole, it would be safe to say that we are accustomed to seeing the former iteration. Morales has not been known to mince words publicly, her intensity of which is matched only by the seeming single-mindedness with which she does her job.

After securing an Economics degree from the University of the Philippines, Chit moved on to take up Law there as well. Though she insists her father, Judge Lucas Carpio, never forced her to be a lawyer, Morales says that the fact that her dad and three uncles were members of the Bar definitely played a part. “One of them was an ambassador who periodically got to be in the newspapers for his comments against apartheid. I found it exciting,” she shares.

Even further back into her childhood, the Ombudsman recalls assuming the role of a judge in a school play – a definite sign of what was to come. “I was wearing a toga and all,” she says with a grin. “Even then, I wanted to be a lawyer.”

The young Chit was very active in extra-curricular activities. She learned to play volleyball, the piano and even indulge in ballroom dancing by the time she reached college. The last skill she brought with her as a member of the Court of Appeals in the mid-‘90s. “I was a Soroptimist. I participated in ballroom dancing and it was shown on television. Then I got a lot of criticisms. ‘Yung justice na ‘yun ang hilig naman.’ (That justice sure likes to dance).

“So, okay, I refrained from too much ballroom dancing – until ballroom dancing became a craze and some ladies in the Court of Appeals even hired a DI (dance instructor) to teach them… They said, ‘Chit do join us naman.’”
Morales had replied sharply: “Naku, pinipintasan niyo ako (You had criticized me)… then there you are now that the craze has hit you, you want me to join you? Of course, I won’t join you, besides I don’t have to learn, it was a natural inclination. Totoo yan! Mahilig (That’s true! I like it).”

As for singing, she proffers with a smile: “I love singing but, excuse me, the tonal quality of my voice does not allow me to sing publicly… I sing, but not for public consumption.”

The Ombudsman delivers her humor in a deadpan manner, calling to mind American comedian, actor, writer, producer Steven Wright – except one can never expect Wright to incite, well, fear. “I want to make you laugh,” declares Morales after a particularly humorous anecdote, as if to assure us that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

As the interview progresses, members of the PeopleAsia team in attendance, along with a couple of the Ombudsman’s staff, start to join in the laughter (nervously at first, one must add).

“I’ll tell you what, when I was in the Court of Appeals, we had a painting group,” she narrates. This group tutored by artist Jeffrey Consumo was headed by the late President Corazon Aquino and included noted public servants Lilia de Lima, Deedee Siytangco, Celia Villanueva, Rosie Castro, Chita Martinez and Morales herself.

“We’d have weekly, sometimes twice-weekly, painting sessions,” the Ombudsman remembers. “When everyone was so serious and silent, I’d blurt into singing: ‘I feel pretty… I feel pretty,’ Wala. Walang tumatawa (No one. No one would laugh)… Until I sang: ‘Sabi ng binata lawiswis kawayan’ everybody would burst into laughter… Sabi nila, Chit talaga, you are komiks! (crazy) We can’t concentrate on our painting!”

She countered that it was the only way she could break the stress. “The terror of silence was so overpowering kasi nireretoke yung ginagawa namin (because our creations were being fixed).”

While she has fond memories of her painting lessons, the Ombudsman admits she lost the luxury of time to indulge in it once she joined the Supreme Court in 2002.

These days, Morales enjoys traveling — whether for leisure or in the conduct of her work. She allows herself the pleasure of hunting down fashion accessories or jewelry. “If it catches my fancy and it’s affordable,” comes the qualifier. “Hulugan kung medyo (I’ll pay in installments if) pricey.”

She says her favorite foreign destination is Prague, and enjoys going to museums whenever she travels. “Konting culture vulture naman,” (A little cultural sense over here) Morales quips. “That’s something that takes me away from the stress attendant to my work.”

The work is formidable as it is important, as Filipinos already know.

“We’re trying to dispose of 2012 cases and below,” she explains. “Yung mga na-inherit dito nineteen forgotten ha (We inherited cases from a long time ago). They were left unattended. There were records of cases which were missing, mutilated, or had portions that were missing, so we had to reconstitute them.

“I came to a place where there was a lot of mess. I can say that without batting an eyelash. That’s true. It was a mess.”
Indeed, people were cautioning her. “’Naku, Chit di mo alam ang punapasukan mo (you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into).’ But I thought that it would be a good challenge.”

Still, after almost 40 years in public service, Morales wasn’t exactly too keen to the idea. On one hand, she still nurtured the dream of being an ambassador, much like her uncle. Then she was also mulling over the “luxury of retirement.”
The Ombudsman intimates: “I was trying to reflect on it; I was ambivalent.”

What eventually steeled her will was what she calls “the flak” she received from critics — chief among them Aniano Desierto, formerly Ombudsman himself from 1995 to 2002. He had said that the country needed a much younger Ombudsman (Morales is a sprightly 74 today), one who would be up to the demands of the job.

“I became stronger, and I said curse them who say I’m old and I’m not capable!”

So we can give our thanks to Desierto?

“Yes, among others who opposed my nomination,” she says, smiling. “I got mad at Desierto, I confronted him and all that. But of course, he denied (the quote) and said he was misquoted. But anyway, after two years, as I said, time heals all wounds. Friend ko na naman siya. And when he texts me he says: ‘My lady.’ Di ba? Feeling royal!”

All things considered, Morales was flattered when President Aquino revealed that she was his choice for the post. “You know what he said? ‘I want you to maintain your independence.’ That’s all he said. Believe me. Walang yung sinasabi nilang (There were no) marching orders… It is to the President’s credit that, to date, he has not asked me anything. He has not conveyed to me anything that would probably have to do with my disposition of cases. Never.”

Manning the veritable complaints desk of the country can be a dangerous job and, indeed, the Ombudsman has received everything from death threats to an M26 hand grenade placed just outside her Muntinlupa City home. “That brought me to put up a high fence because I was advised by the military,” she rues. “I wanted it to be transparent so that my house can be seen, but it didn’t work out that way.”

Although she appreciates the security measures, the Ombudsman laments that it’s hard. Morales has to have a bulletproof car, a retinue of bodyguards and vehicles that follow her all the time. They certainly have put a damper on any hope of inconspicuousness or going incognito.

She narrates with amusement: “You go somewhere, sometimes maybe they don’t recognize you, but when they see bodyguards trailing you, they start to think ‘sino ba itong kulasang itong sinusundan (who is this lady that people are following)?’ Suddenly, they will recall that I’m the Ombudsman.”

Happily, Morales promises that she’s open to taking selfies with complete strangers. “I’m used to that already,” she submits. “Ako naman oo nang oo (I keep saying yes), that’s why I have to be pretty all the time!”

Sometime back in New York, a cousin that she was visiting prevailed upon the Ombudsman to dress casually and put on “minimal makeup” to go the Woodbury Premium Outlets for some shopping. Things were going swimmingly when a man approached her. “Naku, Diyos ko! May nakakilala sa akin! (Oh, no! Someone recognized me!) When I was at my ugliest, merong gustong magpa-picture (someone wanted to take his picture) with me. Mortified, Morales admits she excused herself, went to a nearby restroom and put on makeup.

“We’re all vain, after all. You want to be at your prettiest when you’re photographed,” she maintains.

A self-deprecating, wise-cracking Morales perhaps runs askew to the stern, indignant typecasting, but there it is on display. She isn’t done yet. “Someone said: I think I recognize her. I think it’s Leila de Lima!’ I didn’t say anything. Then they’d ask my who I am. When they learn I’m the Ombudsman, the more they want to take their picture with me because they think I’m so mataray (bitchy) and all that. Then they’d say the Ombudsman is actually nice. I tell myself, well, that’s what you think!” she shares in the vernacular.

What helps make her day — aside from doing good, of course — are netizens. “They are very supportive of the Office of the Ombudsman… I’m entertained by that.” The haters, on the other hand, are as vocal, too. “Some people call me ‘Con-cheat,’ matanda (old), and all that. They say I should retire.”

That’s the worst thing anyone can tell her, she underscores. “If someone tells me that I’m too old for my job, I’m affected. Because I’m not! There are some people who are very young and yet are ineffective, inefficient and even corrupt! For as long as I’m ruled by my conscience, that’s what counts.”

We tell her that some quarters are questioning the timing of cases that she’s pursuing — particularly against Vice President Jejomar Binay, who’s seeking the highest post in the land come May 2016.

“It was just a coincidence, you know,” Morales insists. “We have to give priority to the highest officials, and cases that involve big amounts of money. What do I have against Binay? Binay is my friend, he was one year ahead of me at UP. So I’ve nothing against him.

(But) despite our friendship, if I find someone that appears to have violated the law, what am I an Ombudsman for? Sanitize and try to spare him or her? No way! I shouldn’t be here if my policy would be that.”

Ombudsman Conchita Carpio Morales, ever in fighting form, dares critics to have her impeached, if they think she’s not doing her job. In the meantime, though, she’s running a tight ship at her office. Her eight-point agenda expresses her dreams for the agency: 1. Disposition of high-profile cases, 2. Zero backlog, 3. Improved “survival rate” of fact-finding, 4. Enforced monitoring of referred cases, 5. Improved responsiveness of public assistance, 6. Improved anti-corruption policy and program coordination among sectors, 7. Rationalization of the functional structure, and 8. Enhanced transparency and credibility.

As for the next President, the Ombudsman says: “He has to be a strong leader. He has to be a man of integrity. There is a saying that (people) prefer a corrupt President who knows what he’s doing than one who’s honest but doesn’t know what he’s doing. But I don’t have a choice there!”

She believes that the good, if difficult, work of her office is “making a tad of a difference… but the trouble is that people keep returning these people to positions of power.”

So maybe, it’s time to start listening to this feisty woman who speaks her mind because she speaks the truth.
Photography by JAR CONCENGCO
Art direction by Ramon Joseph Ruiz
Hair and Makeup by EDDIEMAR GO CABILTES

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