The Bar exams and bar ops by Fr. Ranhilio Callangan Callangan Aquino
I never sat for the Philippine Bar. My doctorate degree in jurisprudence was not meant to allow me membership in the Philippine Bar. I am a member of the International Criminal Bar, but that is quite a different thing. I have had very close encounters, however, with the Bar Examinations in the country. I have taught law for close to fifteen years now and have been part of the frenzied fr enzied and frenetic preparation of law students for the “moment of their lives”— the four grueling Sundays of the Bar Examinations. When the Supreme Court assigned Justice Ameurfina Melencio Herrera to chair a committee that would look into reforms in the examinations, she took me in as a consultant. Earlier, the UP Law Center constituted a committee that included the esteemed Prof. Merlyn Magallona, Prof. Myrna Feliciano, Prof. Marvic Leonen, present Dean of its College of Law, Dr. Mona Valisno and me, representing the Philippine Judicial Academy. Both bodies endorsed to the High Court voluminous proposals.
The nature of the Bar Examination is itself a lready a problem. Is it meant to test what the student learned in law school? Is it designed to determine her preparedness for the practice of law? Or, what might very well be possible, is it calculated to limit the number of those admitted to the Bar? The supposed difficulty of the examination arises from ambivalence already on this score. Some examiners flaunt their expertise by asking for answers Supreme Court justices themselves might not agree on. Others think that the examinee must be able to recite provisions of the codes— codes—like many priests recite the canon of the Mass Mass— —thoughtlessly and from rote. Still others think they should keep to the basics. Obviously if all were in agreement about what the examinations are for, there would be singularity of purpose and coherence in the formulation of questions. What reason is there for many law students— students—encouraged by their law schools— schools—to take up quarters in expensive hotels before the examinations? The most frequent excuse one gets is that they are on the look out for “tips”. No, these are not leaks (although there have been leaks in the past!). They are conjectures about what questions might be asked, off-the-cuff remarks made by a rumored examiner passed from one anxious student to the other, each contributing his own embellishment. For me the whole exercise is just pathetic pathetic— —totally bereft of the qualities of scholarship that should mark a profession with such a glorious heritage. The scholarly Justice
Vic Mendoza did a remarkably thorough study and produced some revolutionary suggestions. Most have remained suggestions.
I maintain a very simple proposition: the Bar Examinations should be a test of scholarship in the law. If that position is accepted, then the present trend that puts a premium on “how“how-to” questions— questions—How do you determine who of the five creditors enjoys priority?, How do you distribute property dividends in a corporation? How do you deal with a claim of limited liability of the part of the ship-owner when he delegated the selection of crew and ship-captain to another?— another?—would give way to more scholarly questions. From the stark contrast between the treatises written by European jurists and the usual textbooks a law student lugs to school each day, one does not fail to miss the point. In comparison to legal education in Europe, ours in the Philippines is closer to trade-school education. (Not that there is anything demeaning about trade-schools, only that lawyers are not supposed to be graduates to trade-schools!) trade- schools!)
One Spanish commentator, Luis Diez-Picazo, deals with obligations and contracts in two volumes. The first volume is given to a thorough analysis of the theory of contracts and is in fact a philosophical treatise. Is it the h uman will that accounts for the binding character of contracts, or is it perhaps morality? The typical reaction of the average Filipino law professor will be a dismissive “Too theoretical!” because we have convinced ourselves that worthwhile legal education is the skills-training of the craftsman. And the law student is afflicted by a similar intellectual lethargy: the distaste for truly philosophical analysis and the passion for the minutiae of codal and statutory provisions. In several respects that is because of the notion that the fulfillment of the lawyer is appearing in court in representation of clients. It is this emaciated concept of the lawyer’s profession that has led to the qualitative impoverishment of the Bar Examination. Obviously, if the whole point is to test the examinee’s preparedness for the courtroom, then the test you must give must be nothing short of casuistry, that decadent form of instruction and examination that produced tomes in moral theology that read more like pornography— pornography—in their detailed examination of the varied forms of sexual offenses— offenses—than thoughtful and systematic treatises. We do not need too many lawyers going to court. In fact, the less all of us go to court, the better. That is what the earnest efforts at mediation and at strengthening barangay conciliation suggest. We school lawyers to write wise and just laws, to run profitable but socially responsible and ethical business, to lead the community in the varied ways that wise leadership is called for, to educate not only future lawyers but responsible
citizens. Unfortunately many who teach in law school have made their fortune from lawyering in actions for collection of sums of money, prosecuting B.P. 22 cases, participating in the benefits of partition that they have ingrained in their students the truly disturbing notion of the “fulfillment” of legal practice— practice—by which they mean appearing in court for the day-to-day fare of run-of-themill cases!
All law rests on a concept of order because law is a fundamental form of nomizing— nomizing—the act or acts by which human persons order their lives and their world. What has gone awry with legal education in the Philippines is consigning to oblivion the concept of order presupposed by law— law— and the laws— laws—and making a lot of fuss of the fact-constellations that make applying the provisions of law akin to solving a jigsaw puzzle. What concept of things, in relation to persons, for example underlies the provisions of the civil code on property, and what has happened to this concept in the light of our recognition of the rights of indigenous peoples and cultural communities, as well as the demands of social justice somehow reflected in such social legislation as agrarian reform? Should inquiries of this sort not merit as much, if not more attention, than all the time spent on mastering the procedure as well as the complications that may arise out of ejectment or reinvindicatory r einvindicatory actions?
And why this whole carnival atmosphere at the beginning of the Bar Examination? The whole thing is childish. There are no brass bands, cheer-leaders and pom-pom dancers when a graduate student enters the chamber where he is to defend his doctoral dissertation. The exercise is thoroughly academic (at least in those graduate schools that have sufficient respect for themselves). Why cannot the Bar Examinations be a little more dignified? My parents took the Bar Examinations— Examinations—or so they have told me—without me —without “bar -ops”, those noisy, expensive and competitive affairs that pampering the examinees have become— become—and they turned out to be good, Godly and scholarly lawyers. One big favor the Supreme Court could do us all is outlawing Bar Ops and restoring dignity— dignity—and sanity— sanity—to the conduct of the Bar Examinations.
