Questions are being raised about how the leaders involved had implemented the law — almost blindly, one might say, if the argument is based on the premise of moral issues.

The past weeks brought not just a hurricane that wrought havoc in the West, but a tornado of issues that brought horrors back into our midst.

The latest whirlwind embroiled Palace spokesman Salvador Panelo into the thick of a controversy.

A couple of online news outlets had reported on a letter he sent to the Board of Pardons and Parole (BPP) on the supposed early release of former Laguna mayor Antonio Sanchez, for whom Panelo was once a defense counsel.

Said news outlets used the words “endorsed” and “recommended,” which Panelo had already denied in a Palace briefing, saying he only “referred” the letter to BPP.

“Endorse,” according to Oxford dictionary, means “declare one’s public approval or support of.” But it also means “sign on the back (of a check)” or “write (a comment) on the front or back of a document.” Strictly speaking, the word can be taken apart to argue the opposing points. One side can say, “You implied approval by using ‘endorse’ to describe the act.” The other can say, “You signed the letter and forwarded it, didn’t you?” And blah, blah, blah they will go.

But does it really matter? Is the word chosen more important than what the entire issue implies?

One wrong use can impute, connote or denote so much. It can make or break a sentence — just as the message it bears can make or break defenses or reputations.

Words cannot be taken for granted. Once uttered, they hang in the air before dispersing into the atmosphere. You cannot take them back — well, you can figuratively “take them back” with a correction or an apology, but particles of the previous remain out there, forever out of grasp.

Utmost care is needed, therefore, when it comes to the use of words, especially for public consumption and official functions, but more important, when it comes to intention, which can put meaning into words.

Yet meanings can be a bitch, and it all boils down to interpretation. One wrong interpretation, and down we can all go.

If you want a colorful example, recall statements and phrases that had gotten President Rodrigo Duterte into a maelstrom of controversy in the past. In his case, certain phrases he uttered in a fit of emotion during public speeches had gotten women’s groups, the Church and human rights groups all riled up. It is fortunate for the Chief Executive that he has a colorful personality that had merited some understanding of the context of his statements.

Lately, as well, the budget skirmish had congressmen trading words over GAB (General Appropriations Bill) or no GAB when it seemed that the argument should have been on the process or procedures. In any case, the whole matter reeked of suspicion and delay.

As for the biggest typhoon named Nicanor Faeldon, who recently faced the Senate committee on investigation on the issue of Sanchez’s release papers, words have made him out to be a great big fibber. The senators in the panel were dubious over his narrative. “No logic,” said Sen. Panfilo Lacson. “He is lying,” went Sen. Richard Gordon.

In Faeldon’s case, words belied sense, and that is how he is in yet another tight spot in his government career. In August 2017, to recall, he quit his post after P6.4 billion worth of shabu slipped past Customs inspections. This time, he told senators he would not resign, in spite of public clamor for him to step down.

The whole thing erupted because of the Good Conduct Time Allowance (GCTA) Law, the implementation of which has apparently gone on for a long time now.

In the time of Sen. Ronald “Bato” de la Rosa as Bureau of Corrections (BuCor) chief, he released around 120 heinous crime convicts during his time. His reason: that was what the law said.

Faeldon echoed, during the hearing, that he only followed what had long been practiced in implementing the GCTA.

And this is partly the reason the public is currently in a tizzy over BuCor data that says out of those released, “797 convicts were murderers, 758 were rapists, 274 committed robbery with violence or intimidation, 48 were drug convicts, 29 committed parricide, five were convicted of kidnapping with illegal detention and three committed destructive arson,” as an online report enumerates.

Right now, the GCTA imbroglio is raging because of a matter of interpretation. Questions are being raised about how the leaders involved had implemented the law — almost blindly, one might say, if the argument is based on the premise of moral issues.

What is right or wrong when it is a law in question? So, one side argues on the legal terms, while the other probes on the moral implications.

It will be hard to resolve this, that’s for sure. For if you were to make an argument, you have to make sure that the premise is in sync. And don’t say it’s a matter of semantics — how can you reach a conclusion if you are arguing from entirely different meanings and not simply from different positions on the same point?

What’s even more serious is how officials in a fix try to use words to distract from the core of the issue or try to win a point by fogging up the argument. They fail to see that meanings are implied also from actions, not just words.