I may have intuitively, though fearlessly, foretold the ascent of Alexander G. Gesmundo to the highest post in our judiciary. On Jan. 6, 2006, in my cluttered chamber as the two-week-old chief justice (CJ), I inducted him as a new Sandiganbayan magistrate. After formally administering his oath of office with both of us in our official robes, I matter-of-factly offered him my seat so he could sign his appointment papers. Spontaneously, I told the inductee whom I had never met before, “Please, sit down on my chair. One day, you will occupy it.”
AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT, 15 YEARS LATER, on Apr. 5, 2021, he was appointed the 27th chief justice of the Philippines. Remarkably, CJ Gesmundo neither sought his nomination to the post nor coveted the appointment. Though not the most senior or second most senior justice at the time, his ascension was nonetheless accepted by all the justices—a tribute to his modesty, intellectuality, collegiality, and integrity. They knew his ascent did not involve political bargaining or calculated ambition; it was the natural culmination of a life devoted to humility in greatness.
Without fanfare or publicity, he took his oath as the primus inter pares of the Supreme Court before Senior Associate Justice Estela M. Perlas-Bernabe (who normally should have been a shoo-in for the top post), with the Court en banc as witnesses. Unlike prior chiefs who were sworn in by the President at Malacañang, this act of independence from the appointing authority endeared him to his colleagues.
Over the years, CJ Alex and I have grown quite fond of each other. At my request, he has faithfully chaired the board of judges of the legal scholarship program of the Foundation for Liberty and Prosperity (FLP) for five years since his appointment. Graciously, he welcomed the finalists into the inner sanctum of the Supreme Court—a privilege reserved for a select few—where he and the board conducted their interviews. Even beyond that, he inspired the interviewees to champion liberty and prosperity under the rule of law, a legal philosophy he shares with FLP.
HE INHERITED A JUDICIARY BESET BY THE RAVAGES of the pandemic and a huge backlog of cases. Undaunted, he spearheaded a reform agenda called the “Strategic Plan for Judicial Innovations 2022–2027,” a five-year blueprint to guide the judiciary toward case decongestion, enhanced legal education, technology-driven court processes, coupled with a steadfast protection of constitutional rights.
Though passionate in forging digital transformation, he nonetheless always stressed that technology is merely a means; justice for our people remains the ultimate end. Thus, he pioneered the Court’s framework on “human-centered augmented intelligence” to ensure that innovation supports, rather than supplants, human judgment.
Anchored on this vision, he ensured the accessibility and responsiveness of the courts to ordinary citizens. As he so simply but eloquently summarized, “[t]he majesty of the [Supreme] Court shines clearest and brightest in our devotion to rendering justice swiftly, without fear or favor.”
A brief survey of his key decisions reveals a passion for substantive justice over technicality. He consistently interpreted the law to humanize it. In People v. Pagal (Sept. 29, 2020, en banc)—in which he acquitted the accused of murder despite his guilty plea—CJ Gesmundo opened his ponencia with a quote from Cicero, asserting that essential justice for the poor transcends the immense power of the state to prosecute.
Truly, the words of justices carry a god-like finality, immortalized in jurisprudence, read, debated, and admired (or despised) long after they pass from this Earth. Despite this rather intoxicating power, CJ Alex kept to his characteristic humility and relied on his conscience and private prayers to guide his every decision.
NOTABLY, HE FOSTERED COLLEGIALITY IN THE COURT. He listened intently to his peers, welcomed divergent views, and did not impose his will. When tempers flared during difficult debates, he would quietly arbitrate to preserve institutional unity.
His modest, selfless approach to leadership stems from his reverence for the office. Indeed, he views his headship more as a divine calling and less as a worldly achievement. True, he did not seek the top office in the judiciary, but our country is infinitely better because he accepted the call to it. Surrendering to a duty larger than himself, he personified the constitutional duty of “proven competence, integrity, probity, and independence.”
On Nov. 5, CJ Alex will reach the compulsory retirement age of 70 and regain his freedom after his long exile on the quiet, secluded peaks of Mount Olympus. I am personally delighted that he has accepted his election as an FLP trustee, effective Nov. 6.
As president of the association of retired justices, I will gladly welcome him as the most junior member of our group. Our retired (but not retarded) colleagues will join him in pursuing personal passions or hearing his quiet reflections about the high office he once held—remembering the humility with which he served it, and the greatness with which he left it.
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