In absentia, according to Black’s Law Dictionary (as we were taught in law school), means “in the absence of.” There are some things that one may legally do without being present. An accused in a criminal case, for one, may waive his right to attend his trial (except for the arraignment and promulgation of judgment). The seller of a property may designate an agent to sign, without the former being there, the deeds of hypothecation.

Legislation, however, is not one of those things that can be done in absentia. The political principle involved is one of delegation: The legislator (be he a senator or member of the House) has been delegated powers by the people to make laws that should supposedly be for their benefit. This deputation is personal; it may not be passed on to another. Delegata potestas non potest delegari. Sovereign powers assigned to an official (especially elected ones) cannot be further delegated.

That is why a member of Congress cannot delegate by remote control. Even with recent advances in technology — text messaging, email, video teleconferencing — physical presence in either chamber is juridically required. Perhaps during acute emergencies (the pandemic being the most recent example), physical presence may be excused but still, when our elected deputies were using Zoom, they convened at a certain time simultaneously and conducted legislative business as usual in accordance with their rules of procedure.

What was important was there was interaction by way of debates, interpellation, points of order and clarification, the usual stuff whereby laws are made. Of course, even this was decidedly less than ideal, and when the conditions resulting from Covid-19 had been greatly mitigated, the practice was officially discontinued sometime late last year.

That is why lawmakers who would rather be elsewhere are frowned upon by those who voted for them, and sometimes they’re not reelected. This is why the excuse offered by some — that perfect attendance is not really an achievement  — is pure unadulterated poppycock.

A member of Congress who does not attend sessions is not only recreant of his sworn duties, but disrespects the thousands or millions who chose him over others. That is why Manny Pacquiao, although hugely popular as the “Pambansang Kamao,” lost much luster as a politician when he topped the list of absentees when he was in the Senate and the House, as amply demonstrated by his embarrassing showing in the last presidential polls.

Pacman’s heir apparent in the present Senate appears to be Alan Peter Cayetano, whose only claim to fame previously was that he is the son of Rene Cayetano who, in turn, became nationally prominent by slyly hitching his star to a cause célèbre (the Vizconde Massacre) that catapulted him to a Senate seat.

The records of that chamber indicate that of 54 regular sessions, Alan Peter attended only 36. But wait, there’s more! Of the 36 sessions that he was in the mood to attend, he was late 16 times. In all, he was fully productive in only 20 of 54 session days. If Cayetano were a rank-and-file civil servant, or if the Senate were a private concern, he’d have been booted out of office faster than you can say AWOL.

But in contrast to his aversion to the nitty-gritty of lawmaking (interacting with his peers, listening to resource persons, floor debates), Cayetano will definitely be present when news cameras are abundant for high profile issues (i.e. Charter change) or when he has an ax to grind against a resource person. In other words, if preening were the primary qualification for the presidency, Alan Peter would have long attained what he has devoutly desired for the longest time.

No matter what one says, in legislation, there is no substitute for actual physical presence. It cannot be otherwise. One is either in the hallowed chambers of the Legislature discharging his duties as the people’s deputy, or if he isn’t, then he is, to be colloquial about it, in absent siya.