HOW very cautious and discriminating Executive Secretary Ralph Recto sounded as he issued a taunt that the media instantly rated as his most damaging strike delivered against Rep. Leandro Leviste of Batangas’ first district:
“If he will not stop telling lies about me, it is tempting for me to start telling the truth about him.”
Recto’s defenders quickly notice that, though it looks like just a warning, it is a statement of resolve nevertheless.
But just what truth Secretary Recto is talking about is anybody’s guess.
Is it any one of those already reported by the media, like his alleged exposure of a P1-billion offer by Leviste to Batangas Gov. Vilma Santos-Recto, the wife of the executive secretary, in exchange for backing out from the past gubernatorial election in Batangas? Or that initially the offer was P300 million but was snubbed, thereby prompting Leviste to increase the bounty to P1 billion.
Recto’s defenders assert, “Truth is not weaponized casually. It is held in reserve. It is presented as a last defense, not a first attack.”
“That distinction matters,” avers one other Recto fanatic. “In a political climate saturated with allegations, counter-allegations and competing narratives, truth often becomes just a matter of rhetoric, a tool so malleable it could be shaped accordingly as to serve a particular interest — amplified strategically and discarded when inconvenient.”
In other words, you classify truth typically as depending on what selfish purpose it is meant to serve.
Recall the classic film “Rashomon” by Akira Kurosawa, winner of the 1951 Best Director Award in the Venice Film Festival. It dealt with a series of narratives about a murdered samurai, each conflicting with the other. In the end, for serving a selfish motive, each of the narratives is declared untrue. Says the priest in the discussions one stormy day at the old Rashomon Gateway Arch in Kyoto: “Damn this world. Everybody is lying.”
Isn’t Secretary Recto doing a priest of Rashomon?
Raging at realizing that truth is being sacrificed on the altar of bare self-interest?
“Damn Leviste. Lies, lies and lies!”
Recto is on record as having called Leviste a “national inventor of lies,” “bitter brat” and a “deranged” individual.
As a matter of fact, many of Leviste’s allegations against Secretary Recto in his privilege speech have been stricken off the record by his peers in the House precisely for having no proof at all — lies, lies and lies indeed.
Lies that must deserve a thorough exposé for the country’s very sake.
It does intrigue that Recto’s framing of truth actually ends up suggesting a holding back of punches.
To recall, here is what he reportedly threatened: “If he will not stop telling lies about me, it is tempting for me to start telling the truth about him.”
The reference being to Leviste.
Now, why still threaten to tell and not just tell right away? On what is the telling of truth conditioned?
It needs a thorough familiarity with the executive secretary to explain the phenomenon. One such confidant clarifies that “truth is not a tactic, but a boundary.”
Too deep an idea to fathom that easily.
What does it imply?
Somebody with a layman’s mind can only attempt an explanation.
It is with pure goodness of heart that Secretary Recto treats his fellow man, including those who happen to be on the other side of the political fence. Such a fence must exercise tolerance of the other guy’s weaknesses. Yet at the same time, such a fence must be a threshold of what is right and wrong, good and bad, true or false.
One confidant of Secretary Recto stresses that such a threshold has now been crossed.
For whatever it is worth, here is a relevant portion of a statement coming from the Recto camp on the issue of truth in the Leviste accusations:
“There is also an implicit confidence in that line. The confidence that truth, when fully revealed, will withstand scrutiny. That it will clarify, not confuse.
“This stands in contrast to what he describes as a ‘factory of lies’ — systems designed to produce, distribute and amplify falsehoods. Whether through coordinated messaging, digital manipulation or sheer repetition, these systems thrive on volume, not accuracy.
“And they are effective.
“Because in the age of information overload, consistency often matters more than correctness. Repeat something often enough, and it begins to feel true.
“The challenge, then, is not just to tell the truth, but to sustain it. To ensure that it is not drowned out by noise, not diluted by competing narratives.
“Recto’s statement acknowledges this challenge, but does not succumb to it. Instead, it reaffirms a commitment: that truth remains the ultimate reference point.
“There is also a broader implication here for public discourse. That accountability cannot be optional. That those who speak, especially in positions of power, must be prepared to substantiate their claims.
Because credibility, once lost, is difficult to regain.
“And in governance, credibility is currency.
“Without it, policies are questioned, decisions are doubted and trust erodes.
“Recto’s statement, therefore, is not just a defense. It is a positioning. A declaration that there are still standards worth upholding — and that truth remains one of them.
“In a time when that is increasingly contested, it is a stance that deserves attention.”
To this column, Secretary Recto’s holding back punches for the moment in retaliation against Leviste’s accusations necessarily brings back the analogy to Rashomon.
What is truth?
Not the denial of the bandit accused of slaying the samurai so he can possess the samurai’s bride.
Not the denial of the bride accused of infidelity with the bandit, the alleged reason for the killing.
Not the testimony of the woodcutter who claimed to have witnessed the samurai’s killing, when his real interest was the elaborately crafted knife which he stole from the samurai.
Not the testimony of the samurai himself, through a medium, that he killed himself out of shame and disgrace.
So, what is truth?
Nothing is true but things that work to your favor.
Otherwise, all are lies, lies and lies.
But in the case at bar, there is this expressed reservation by Secretary Recto to hold back his punches — keep away from the need to injure anyone.
That’s a silver lining enough through the terrific darkness of a storm.
It is such a storm in which the narrative of Rashomon is told through a priest, a commoner and the woodcutter.
As the priest rages at all the lies that have taken place on the samurai’s murder, “Damn this world! Everybody is lying,” what should astound everyone but a shrill cry of a baby abandoned but well-ensconced in a nook of the Rashomon gateway.
The priest picked up the baby and cradled it in his arms.
The woodcutter addressed the priest: “I already have six kids. But I wouldn’t mind having another one to care for.”
The priest glows with glorious realization. What he said could be Secretary Recto’s now persistent pure goodness of heart: “Now I can keep faith with humanity.”
Whereupon the storm subsides.
