2nd Sem

Manila's Street Lawyers

Manila's Street Lawyers
A proliferation of lawyers in Manila gives birth to the city’s latest phenomenon
By Tam Gaspar

Two lawyers met on a crowded street in the heart of Manila’s business district. “How’s the business?” the first lawyer asked. “It’s slow today. Forget it,” the second lawyer answered. “I went to this hospital hoping to handle the case of an accident victim, and the only people there were the mortician and a bunch of lawyers.”
The anecdote is a familiar one in the Philippines, where every Tom, Dick and Harry dreams of becoming a lawyer.
The situation has become quite a problem that the Supreme Court is now stricter in bar examinations, hoping that this method of restraint will stem the flood of lawyers in a country where the profession holds much honor, and the promise of a better future for one’s family.
In a family where there are five children, one is sure to study law. More often than not, it is the father who prevails upon one of the children to enter the profession, and the chosen one usually defers to his wishes. The other siblings are encouraged to become professionals in other fields: teaching, accounting, science, etc. Many of those who choose to study law fail the bar examinations, sometimes even failing twice. Failing it three times means that one would have to take the entire course all over again.
Despite the prospect of failure and the fact that the profession is already saturated with jobless graduates, many are enticed to take up law. In fact, it has turned into an industry of sorts, where lawyers are churned out by the thousands every year.
Public and private institutions boast of legal minds and luminaries in their roster. Six out of twelve men who became president of the Philippines were lawyers. But for every lawyer who makes the grade, there are more who languish in obscure offices as clerks or join the ranks of the unemployed.
The Philippine Civil Service makes it virtually easier for government employees to get promotions if they have legal backgrounds. Even policemen are assured of promotions if they take up law. One cynic complains: “ I don’t know about promotions, but I know that even if they take up law, a good number of them turn out to be lawless themselves.”
Still others become Notary Publics, offering services at a much lower price than those offered at prestigious law firms. They have also cornered a business that would otherwise put money in government coffers. Initially setting up “offices” consisting of a bare table and a chair along the hallways and corridors of Manila’s City Hall, the new “breed” of lawyers provided a service that eliminated bureaucratice red tape normally associated with government institutions. The “offices” soon spilled out to the back of City hall, under the Light railway track (LRT), complete with marquees that said “Notary.”
Eventually, the street lawyers were driven out of City Hall after government officials labeled them as a “nuisance.” One street lawyer regrets the move: “We’ve been driven out because they said we were a nuisance. But the public needs the services of a notary. The City Hall is supposed to give free legal service, but you know how bureaucracy works. They don’t help you at all, they grumble when you ask for help, and they pay little attention to the public.”
Some of those who were driven out were fortunate enough to salvage some of their possessions, and still others were taken in by government employees who offered to moonlight for them.
The rest have made Manila’s streets their offices, bringing along tables, chairs and manual typewriters to whatever spot along the sidewalk they choose as lucrative enough. Some of them hire a handful of staffmembers who bring in clients, prepare and type the documents, and get paid in the form of commissions.
One street lawyer remarked a little ruefully: “We may look abject and lowly, but we are here where we are needed.”
Indeed, street lawyering has become a burgeoning trade. A minimum notary fee for a certification or affidavit of loss can cost P50. A deed of sale or mortgage consisting of five to 10 copies each could amount to P5,000. The “clerk” who brings in the client gets a 40 percent commission, and the street lawyers pockets the rest. On any given day, a street lawyer can easily earn up to P2,000, and they are out there on the streets every day, rain or shine.
There are no overhead costs, no bills to pay, no taxes to remit to government. And it’s all legal.
One “client” complained that the street lawyers are also beginning to overcharge, much like their counterparts in the airconditioned offices of Manila’s prestigious law firms. And who says being a street lawyer is a low calling?

Disclaimer: This article was downloaded from the site:
http://www.philpost.com/0499pages/streetlawyers0499.html

posted by Graciella @ 1:39 AM