By Winston A. Marbella
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 02:04:00 02/25/2011
Filed Under: Edsa 1, Benigno Aquino III, Cory Aquino, People power, history
MANILA, Philippines—The biggest asset of the Aquino presidency is intangible—and that is why it is so elusive. It resides in our collective memory as a nation eternally grateful to the first President Aquino for everything she did to restore our freedoms and regain our self-respect as a people.
But this intangibility is also the current Aquino presidency’s greatest weakness, for it could lead to an indolence of the spirit, with its revolutionary fervor reveling in the glories of the past, forgetting the hard challenges of making a country work, and building a nation on the glorious foundations of the 1986 People Power revolution.
After the euphoria of the first Edsa revolution had died down, and for every year since then when we tried to rekindle the embers of a patriotic episode in our memory, historians and pundits have wondered—in almost an annual ritual of self-flagellation—how and why we have squandered so precious a moment in our history.
The lost opportunity rankles in our mind and we try to reach back across time to try to figure out where we missed the possibilities. It may be necessary to reconstruct the historical narrative to gain a handle on how to proceed.
Seven months into a 72-month term, Benigno S. Aquino III—like most of us—remains shackled to a past that vaulted him to a presidency largely on the strength of a people’s enduring affection for his mother. This historical fact was glaringly made visible again in the commemoration of President Cory’s birthday last month.
Many of the people who engineered the first People Power revolution, and now the heirs of that revolution who cleverly leveraged that precious legacy into another crack at historical relevance, know only too well how important are those memories in the current president’s ascent to the throne his mother had occupied.
In the subsequent retelling of the presidential campaign of 2009-2010, campaign insiders, even those instrumental to convincing Mr. Aquino to seize the moment, have admitted publicly that the emotional outpouring that attended his mother’s funeral in August 2009 was too precious a moment to let pass.
Intuitive sense
Mr. Aquino sensed the historical impact of the moment himself. Unable to contain the flood of emotions that must have overwhelmed him while he rode in the family bus on that long, arduous trek to his mother’s tomb, he had taken off his formal shirt and, in his undershirt, ran with supporters toward his mother’s final resting place beside the martyr she had willingly given up for country, her beloved husband, Ninoy.
Mr. Aquino’s decision to run beside supporters for the rest of the way was instinctive. It will take many weeks more before he would intellectualize the moment and make a conscious decision to run for president.
There would still be the usual consultations with his four sisters and their families, and the almost ritual prayers for spiritual guidance with the Pink Sister nuns his mother had loved so dearly, before he would make a formal announcement.
But when he decided to depart the bus and run the rest of the way to her grave, he had, unconsciously perhaps, also made a decision to occupy her throne in the people’s hearts. In the fading hours of daylight the die was cast. His eventual election would be history.
The Aquino campaign knew how to rekindle the memories of a poignant past to gain an early head start: The yellow ribbons that blossomed to welcome Ninoy Aquino’s homecoming. The patriotic songs that ignited a nation’s passion over his assassination. The touching battle cry “Hindi Ka Nag-iisa!” (You are not alone) that accompanied him to his grave. Even the defiant Laban sign boldly thrust in your face.
The symbols reignited emotions of old and the passions flared again.
Now what?
Search for meaning
To chart our future course, it may help to recall whence we came. To understand the legacy of Edsa we have first to know its meaning.
Edsa was not the end of the journey, but the beginning of one. The trek to the Promised Land continues, now in the presidency of the second Aquino. It is a work still in progress, almost a Pilgrim’s Progress, for it requires no less than a transformation of our inner selves to finish the job. It is almost like the Book of Exodus being replayed in our time.
After having led his people out of slavery in Egypt, Moses had to teach them how to build a nation, and how to deserve one. Moses himself never made it to the Promised Land, for they meandered in the wilderness for 40 years—two generations by biblical reckoning—to learn the rudiments of statecraft after having lived without a nation of their own for so long.
The parents and their children, born in slavery in a foreign land, had no clue about the responsibilities of nationhood, much less the tricky craft of governance.
President Cory led us out of slavery, both physically and spiritually. Hungry and thirsty, the people wanted more from her, as if what she had done was not enough for one life’s work. We did not know that she had done enough, and that her task was now ours to complete.
She parted the Red Sea to show us an ocean of possibilities—and we squandered the opportunities.
Leading us to the Promised Land now seems the easy part. Building a nation is the hard part—and nobody will do it for us. We will have to put our collective shoulders to the wheel and put our surgically enhanced tall noses closer to the grindstone.
A damaged culture?
The notable writer James Fallows, writing for the prestigious The Atlantic, took more than the usual cursory look at the Edsa phenomenon in writing his piece, “A Damaged Culture: A New Philippines?” after staying six weeks in the country. Returning in 1987, he observed:
“Especially on my second trip to the Philippines, in the summer, many Filipinos told me that (Cory) Aquino had become strangely passive in office, acting as if her only task was to get rid of Marcos and ride out the periodic coups, rumored or real. As long as she did those jobs—that is, stayed in office—she did not feel driven to do much else.”
Concluding that not much else was bound to change in the Philippines, Fallows concluded: “America knows just what it will do to defend Corazon Aquino against usurpers, like those who planned the last attempted coup…. But we might start thinking ahead to what we’ll do if the anti-coup campaign is successful—to what will happen when Aquino stays in, and the culture doesn’t change, and everything gets worse.”
In fact, things got worse before they got better, during the term of Cory’s designated successor, President Fidel V. Ramos, and then got worse again. The following year, in a more thoroughly researched piece for the London-based New Left Review, “Cacique Democracy in the Philippines: Origins and Dreams,” Benedict Anderson arrived at basically the same dark conclusion.
Because the Aquinos and the Cojuangcos of Tarlac had come from the same power elite that had ruled the Philippines since colonial times (Spanish and American), Anderson found it highly improbable that Cory would find the political will to dismantle the power structure whence she came.
Imagined nation
The similar conclusions seem to come from the all-too-predictable expectation that the sitting president can in fact will things to happen over and above a power structure of the same origins, and therefore the same inclinations, especially if we take seriously Anderson’s earlier scholarly work, “Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism.” In this landmark book, Anderson shared new insight into our understanding of how nations become functioning states: “In an anthropological spirit… a nation… is an imagined political community…. It is imagined because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion….”
In this sense, then, this is Cory’s enduring legacy to us. She gave us a sense of communion. Perhaps it is unkind—or even excessive—to expect much more of her.
Unlike her husband, Ninoy, to whom politics was second nature, if not first, Cory was a convent school girl who had lived a sheltered life, yes, in a cacique family atmosphere. She had no choice in that life of privilege. But where she had choices to make, she embraced the difficult ones.
She could have chosen to continue living a life of privilege, and nobody would have faulted her for that. She already had given her country her husband. Yet she chose to serve, perhaps in her own mind just to preside over the transition back to freedom and a democratic state.
Perhaps, this was the “strangely passive” behavior that Fallows’ sources had noted early into her presidency. Thrust by historical forces outside her comfort zone, mostly at the urging of a patriotically driven people who would later do the same thing to her only son, Cory did not find governance her cup of cacique tea.
Moment of truth
She was out of her element and she knew it. And so she retired after one term, although constitutionally she could have aspired to a second. Why she declined a second term can be discerned in a conversation she had with the multi-awarded American journalist Stanley Karnow, who wrote America’s Empire in the Philippines:
“I reached the point,” she told Karnow, “when I knew that I was president, not Ninoy, and that I had to make the decisions.”
Karnow continued: “Certainly, she conceded, she had not done enough. But, as she phrased it, ‘there is no school for presidents.’ She was accumulating experience as she went along, and dealing (with it) “step by step…”
“After three years in office, though still popular, her reputation had eroded—largely because she could not have conceivably lived up to the image of miracle worker her own supporters had pinned on her…
“Despite its modern trappings, it was still a feudal society [she had inherited] dominated by an oligarchy of rich dynasties, which had evolved from one of the world’s longest spans of Western imperial rule [more than three centuries under Spain and almost 50 years under America].”
To have expected Cory to do more was indeed like expecting miracles: she had been born to reign, not to rule.
Martyred dreams
Not surprisingly, the same miraculous expectations are growing around her son, fueled largely by a carefully crafted campaign that—according to public confessions by insiders—shamelessly exploited a nation’s yearning to complete a mother’s unfulfilled legacy and a father’s martyred dreams.
Installed by a miscalculated exploitation of poignant memories, the current President Aquino is thus unwittingly shackled to the same ebullient expectations no mortal could possibly fulfill.
In remembering her birthday late last month, Mr. Aquino gave us a rare glimpse into a son’s personal perspective of his mother’s legacy. Calling himself a “saling pusa” (kibitzer) during his mother’s presidency, he said she and her Cabinet had “planted the seeds of the plants that will be harvested now.”
Strangely looking ahead at his own presidency’s end barely seven months into it, Mr. Aquino said: “I like to look at it as the last act of this particular play.” He recalled that when his mother was thrust into the presidency in 1986, she had “no blueprint” for managing the country, reinforcing Karnow’s “step by step” description of her style of governance.
“I will follow the formula to a large degree,” Mr. Aquino said ominously.
While this peculiar articulation of his mandate may carry with it a deferential respect for her memory, it casually ignored a basic historical difference in the two Aquino presidencies. Cory accepted the call almost reluctantly; her son went for the job deliberately.
Battle fatigue
Eight months into a six-year term, he shows surprising weariness—dangerously close to Cory’s “strangely passive” behavior early in her presidency. It could be nothing more than simple battle fatigue—or it could be something else.
Clearly the president needs all the help he can get. As surely as night follows day, he is not going to get the help he badly needs from the small group of true believers he has assembled around him, no matter how true their beliefs. This is a decision he cannot postpone because on it rests the future of the country and the legacy he nurtures in his hands.
Clearly, Mr. Aquino is not getting it from a self-styled communications strategist who, after elaborately constructing a network of digital “feedback mechanisms” like social networking sites Facebook and Twitter to monitor the pulse of the people, says out of pique, “No, I have not seen it (a YouTube video poking fun at Mr. Aquino’s expensive sports car)—and I don’t care!”
The least they can do is to care, and to care deeply enough. If they are not up to the demands of the job, they should give way to others more qualified and less testy and testicular. This is our country—and our future—they are trifling with, and we cared passionately enough to pay our dues on the perilous road to Edsa in 1986. Where were they?
(The author is chief executive of a think tank specializing in transforming social, political, anthropological and historical trends into public policy and business strategy. Comments are welcome at Marbella International Business Consultancy, e-mail mibc2006@gmail.com.)