The May 10, 2010 Philippine general election proved to be an important milestone in what had historically been a scandalous and often violent time in the nation's story. The basic right to free suffrage, the supposed centerpiece of PEOPLE POWER had been an exercise in corruption and futility in every election after the revolution, just like what it was during the time of Marcos, with only a few exceptions. With the introduction of a computer-automated system of voting instead of the antiquated scheme of paper ballots that has always been susceptible to manipulation and violence, and under the watchful eye of a more vigilant and neutral media, the 2010 election produced a result that genuinely reflected the people's will.
And the name that came out on top was a familiar one. The new president-elect of the republic was Benigno Noynoy Aquino. The son of Ninoy and Cory. The son of freedom.
In an election campaign that was eerily similar to the 1986 crusade of his mother's, Senator Aquino asserted on themes so familiar in every Philippine election cycle. Corruption. Excess. Abuse of Power. Only this time he had the credibility of a name and the democratic and heroic tradition of his parents behind him. Right down to the campaign colour. Yellow-the colour of People Power.
It also helped that Noynoy was running to replace Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, the most hated and corrupt president since Marcos. On that point, the 2010 election had a rather predictable outcome, at least at the top of the electronic ballot.
The results did not disappoint. The presidential race was the biggest landslide in history. In a field of nine candidates, Aquino garnered more than 46 % of the vote, some 18 points higher than second placer, the former president Joseph Estrada. Another positive outcome of computerized voting was that the results came in very quickly. In a matter of a week, the results were clear, despite the noise from sour-graping losers. And the general consensus was that the 2010 Philippine elections were peaceful and credible.
Democracy had triumphed at last.
But the truly sad thing for a lot of Filipinos is that almost 25 years after the historic revolt at EDSA, our political leaders are still talking about the same issues. Aquino talked about political, social and economic reform. About government openness and accountability. And most importantly, he spoke of justice for all.
Those are the same issues that drove people to the streets during the last of the Marcos years. To face the truncheons, the water cannons and the live ammunition of the guns of his state police. The same issues that motivated citizens to support Corazon Aquino's quest to unseat Marcos in 1986, despite threats to their own safety. The same issues that galvanized a people to go to EDSA and risk their lives to kneel down in front of army tanks. The very issues that one man resolved to fight for when he left his family and the relative safety of a life in exile in Boston in August 1983, to face certain death at the hands of a dictator.
And now, we are still talking about the same things. We haven't progressed. We haven't moved forward.
It would be so easy for anyone to say that the spirit of EDSA is dead. It is not. Despite the lack of any real progress, there had been major gains since the EDSA revolt. Principal among them is the peaceful transition of power, as witnessed last on June 30, 2010. All post-Marcos presidents had given way peacefully and gracefully with one exemption. Estrada, the B-movie actor turned president was ousted by a bastardized version of People Power in 2001, on accusations of plunder. Laughable, since all administrations after Marcos had been guilty of plundering the National Treasury in more ways than one. Most likely, he was nudged out of power because of severe incompetence and his own disinterest in performing his functions as a chief executive of the land. (He thought being president was just like one of his truly awful movie roles).
But for me to say that the true goal of EDSA has yet to be met would be accurate. 25 years after a revolution that championed plurality, political prisoners still languish in Philippine jails. Members of the media still face harrassment and intimidation, and in some cases violence and death from security forces whenever they offer unfavourable opinions about the political class. The institutional problems of inequality and injustice continue to exist, exacerbated by rampant government corruption and irresponsibility. And the plutocracy still reigns supreme in Philippine society.
The new president promised to address these issues in his inaugural speech to the nation. He has yet to make any concrete steps in that direction.
To be sure, the Aquinos have their share of detractors. As much as they are beloved by the country, there remains a significant segment that are critical to whatever they uphold or represent. From the right-wing Marcos diehards who still refuse to believe that the former despot was anything but a hated brute, to the left who see Aquino as an extension of oligarchic rule; and of course, there are the inggiteros and inggiteras, those who hate the Aquinos or anybody else, for that matter, just for envy's sake; a well-worn Filipino trait that serves as a reflection of one's low self-worth and self-esteem.
But a few months into his term as president, the hopeful feeling of a second Aquino presidency has begun to fade. And in an ironic twist, the criticisms hurled against the new president show a remarkable similarity to the ones raised towards his mother's. Impotence. Ineffectiveness. Incompetence.
Not that he hasn't deserved any of it. Though it's still quite early to judge his performance as chief executive with less than a year under his belt, there are troubling signs that Noynoy Aquino is destined to become just like all the presidents after EDSA. An irrelevant and unremarkable six year ruler. Unable to fulfill the true meaning of his role as President of the Philippines. To bridge the gap between rich and poor. To make the country move forward into progress. To be the leader that the country thirsts for.
Despite tangible steps taken toward modernity, the Republic of the Philippines remain as an enigmatic entity. A poor and troubled third world country beset by grave problems that no one president can solve in a single six-year term. Although far from being considered a "failed state", the country faces a serious predicament that left unchecked, could put it perilously close to being one. The conditions that call for another revolution just like the 1986 EDSA revolt are still present. In fact, as the gravity of the problem gets deeper and the situation gets worse, a violent version of EDSA may be in store at some point in the future.
Unless-We the People-do something about it. NOW.
And it starts with us being a lot more aware of the choices we make as a people. From the people we elect in leadership positions to our own responsibilities as citizens of our homeland. To be cognizant of the importance in promoting the general interest instead of our own self-interest. No amount of flag-waving "fake patriotism" can match the trueness of that virtue. It is through us-that we can effect true change. After all, the president is merely a "spokesman" for our interests as a people. And the people we elect in various capacities are nothing but the "representatives " of our true will. As Alice Walker exclaimed in the title of her book-"We are the ones that we have been waiting for".
It maybe that is what Ninoy Aquino meant to say in one of his final interviews-that "the Filipinos are worth dying for". Or what Cory Aquino meant amid the national grief and support following the assassination of her husband when she said ; "Ninoy did not die in vain".
And maybe that is the true meaning of EDSA.
On August 21, 1983, our country witnessed the consequential result when one man stood up to fight for what is right. For truth, justice and freedom. A dictator's facade of invincibility began to crack.
At EDSA, in those four historic days that shook the world in February 1986, millions of Filipinos tore down that facade of lies, deception and murder. WE ARE THE ONES THAT WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
PEOPLE POWER : The EDSA Revolt 25 years after Part 2
February 26, 1986. The first full day of the post-Marcos era. I decided to go and find out for myself what it was like to live in a Marcos-free Philippines. To breathe in the air of freedom. Passing by a newspaper stand, something caught my eye almost immediately. It was the familiar masthead of The Manila Times-the newspaper of my childhood. The Times, a leading critic of the Marcos presidency and among the first casualties upon the proclamation of Martial Law on September 21, 1972, was back after a more than 13-year imposed absence. As if from out of nowhere, it reappeared to pick up from where it left off. The symbolism escaped me at the time, for I, as was the rest of the country was still in jubilant celebration for having deposed the hated dictator. But there was no doubt about it. The old order was back. And it was back with a vengeance.
It did not stop there. The voices that were being heard in those early, heady days after Marcos were predominantly the voices from the past. From the appointive ministers and administrators who took over from the leftover Marcos lieutenants. To the new regime's cadre of spokespeople. The old was new again. It was as if the whole nation just woke up from a very bad dream. The Marcos nightmare. But then again, it was just a dream. And now it's time to get up and move on with your day. At least, that's what we were being told. The revolution was all about continuing on the path were Martial Law so rudely interrupted it.
Such as it was, the old order was responsible for creating the monster that was the Marcos regime. For it was the pre-martial law era of the old two-party system of Nacionalistas and Liberals that set forth the frustration and anger among the citizenry. With no clear differences that set them apart, the two old-line parties monopolized political power between the two of them. Both inclined to promote and protect the interests of two warring factions of the same class they both belonged to. The elite class. In fact, defections to and from both parties were as common as the flu. For neither party had any distinctive ideological principle that it supremely upheld. And none had any real answer to the social problems that were ailing the republic. Worst of all, both operated with impunity and equally guilty of corruption, excess and abuse of power.
That is why the very real threat of a declaration of military rule in late 1972 was initially seen as a palatable alternative to the old way. And the reason Marcos got away with what was essentially a "presidential coup" so easily was that the people had decided the old order, as represented by the two main-line political parties were unworthy of being saved and deserved to be swept under the garbage heap of history. The Filipinos thought that Martial Law and the New Society as promised by Marcos, with it's enforced dictum of discipline and order was a way to move forward. Or at the very least, a step away from the stagnation of the old society. But as it turned out, fascist rule was a lot worst. An iron-fisted monster that kept growing bigger and bigger.
The reality of course, was that the nation didn't just stop moving forward after September 21, 1972, it went backward. And the state of regression was so bad that it needed revolutionary ideas to correct the wrongs that had been done during 13 years of military rule. And that painful truth was being pointed out by the leading progressive voices of the time. Voices like labour leader Rolando Olalia and student-youth leader Lean Alejandro. But they were all but drowned out by the noise of the new regime's political hatchetmen who claimed the revolution for themselves. Noise that even I mistakenly assumed were the voices of freedom.
To make matters worse, the political fissures that existed in the new governing coalition began to crack even wider. Then-Interior Minister Aquilino Pimentel, in a haphazard attempt to oust the Marcos warlords from local government offices began appointing people from his own party (the PDP-Laban), seemingly without consultation from the new administration's main coalition partner, the UNIDO, headed by the new vice-president Salvador Laurel. After all, the differences and divisions between the anti-Marcos forces were profoundly real. It was a union of conservatives, moderates and liberals. The left and the business sector. The church and the youth movement. In a matter of weeks after the dictatorship's demise, the new president, Cory Aquino looked like she was presiding over a pack of unruly old dogs intent on eating each other.
But perhaps the most belligerent threat to the fragile ruling coalition was the presence of it's very latest member-the Armed Forces of the Philippines. The military, the greatest component of the Marcos-Martial Law years and the key contributing factor to his own downfall. And now, the military was at an even more influential position of power and it was willing to flex it substantial political muscle to serve it's own purpose or at the very least, get it's message across. And the message was clear. "We are in charged of our own affairs".
The unfortunate thing in all of these was that Mrs. Aquino seemed like she was unwilling or unable to exert her authority on those who were trying to subvert hers. It seemed like she was just content on being the anti-Marcos president, despite overwhelming public support. A non-transformational president despite the considerable popularity she enjoyed and can use as moral authority to transform her country. A bean-counter president, content on counting in her days as head-of-state, then returning to private life when her term was over. With that, she left herself wide open to criticisms of lack of vision and leadership skill. Charges of Impotence. Ineffectiveness. Incompetence.
(A grand total of seven coup attempts were mounted in the six year duration of the presidency of Corazon Aquino).
Add to the fact that the corrosive effects of Marcos' corrupt regime has seeped through every facet of Philippine society and it's way of life. And the venom had all but poisoned the well. Which meant that the Aquino administration, despite it's best initial intentions were caught drinking from the same poisoned water and swimming in the same poisoned lake as the one it replaced. In the end, the new regime was as guilty as the old one.
Meanwhile, the true voices of freedom were being permanently silenced, as they were during the darkest days of Marcos rule. Less than ten months after the February Revolution, Olalia was found dead after being abducted by uniformed thugs. Evidence of torture were present when his body was found as with several gunshot wounds to the face and the back of the head. Alejandro was gunned down several months later outside a Metro Manila courthouse after filing electoral complaints in the just concluded congressional election of 1987. Other progressives who dared to speak out about the ineffectiveness of the new regime were either harrassed, intimidated or dismissed as communists, terrorists or enemies of the state.
On the first anniversary celebration of People Power, a good half of the original participants decided to take a pass on it. Over the years, the succeeding celebrations to mark "the people's victory over tyranny" had degenerated into partisan political rallies for whomever held the main seat of power in Philippine politics. And the country had become increasingly polarized with so many competing interests yet no one seemed to have any idea on how to move forward. A far cry from the unity and bravery that was on display for the whole world to see in those historic four days in February 1986. The four days in EDSA.
It did not stop there. The voices that were being heard in those early, heady days after Marcos were predominantly the voices from the past. From the appointive ministers and administrators who took over from the leftover Marcos lieutenants. To the new regime's cadre of spokespeople. The old was new again. It was as if the whole nation just woke up from a very bad dream. The Marcos nightmare. But then again, it was just a dream. And now it's time to get up and move on with your day. At least, that's what we were being told. The revolution was all about continuing on the path were Martial Law so rudely interrupted it.
Such as it was, the old order was responsible for creating the monster that was the Marcos regime. For it was the pre-martial law era of the old two-party system of Nacionalistas and Liberals that set forth the frustration and anger among the citizenry. With no clear differences that set them apart, the two old-line parties monopolized political power between the two of them. Both inclined to promote and protect the interests of two warring factions of the same class they both belonged to. The elite class. In fact, defections to and from both parties were as common as the flu. For neither party had any distinctive ideological principle that it supremely upheld. And none had any real answer to the social problems that were ailing the republic. Worst of all, both operated with impunity and equally guilty of corruption, excess and abuse of power.
That is why the very real threat of a declaration of military rule in late 1972 was initially seen as a palatable alternative to the old way. And the reason Marcos got away with what was essentially a "presidential coup" so easily was that the people had decided the old order, as represented by the two main-line political parties were unworthy of being saved and deserved to be swept under the garbage heap of history. The Filipinos thought that Martial Law and the New Society as promised by Marcos, with it's enforced dictum of discipline and order was a way to move forward. Or at the very least, a step away from the stagnation of the old society. But as it turned out, fascist rule was a lot worst. An iron-fisted monster that kept growing bigger and bigger.
The reality of course, was that the nation didn't just stop moving forward after September 21, 1972, it went backward. And the state of regression was so bad that it needed revolutionary ideas to correct the wrongs that had been done during 13 years of military rule. And that painful truth was being pointed out by the leading progressive voices of the time. Voices like labour leader Rolando Olalia and student-youth leader Lean Alejandro. But they were all but drowned out by the noise of the new regime's political hatchetmen who claimed the revolution for themselves. Noise that even I mistakenly assumed were the voices of freedom.
To make matters worse, the political fissures that existed in the new governing coalition began to crack even wider. Then-Interior Minister Aquilino Pimentel, in a haphazard attempt to oust the Marcos warlords from local government offices began appointing people from his own party (the PDP-Laban), seemingly without consultation from the new administration's main coalition partner, the UNIDO, headed by the new vice-president Salvador Laurel. After all, the differences and divisions between the anti-Marcos forces were profoundly real. It was a union of conservatives, moderates and liberals. The left and the business sector. The church and the youth movement. In a matter of weeks after the dictatorship's demise, the new president, Cory Aquino looked like she was presiding over a pack of unruly old dogs intent on eating each other.
But perhaps the most belligerent threat to the fragile ruling coalition was the presence of it's very latest member-the Armed Forces of the Philippines. The military, the greatest component of the Marcos-Martial Law years and the key contributing factor to his own downfall. And now, the military was at an even more influential position of power and it was willing to flex it substantial political muscle to serve it's own purpose or at the very least, get it's message across. And the message was clear. "We are in charged of our own affairs".
The unfortunate thing in all of these was that Mrs. Aquino seemed like she was unwilling or unable to exert her authority on those who were trying to subvert hers. It seemed like she was just content on being the anti-Marcos president, despite overwhelming public support. A non-transformational president despite the considerable popularity she enjoyed and can use as moral authority to transform her country. A bean-counter president, content on counting in her days as head-of-state, then returning to private life when her term was over. With that, she left herself wide open to criticisms of lack of vision and leadership skill. Charges of Impotence. Ineffectiveness. Incompetence.
(A grand total of seven coup attempts were mounted in the six year duration of the presidency of Corazon Aquino).
Add to the fact that the corrosive effects of Marcos' corrupt regime has seeped through every facet of Philippine society and it's way of life. And the venom had all but poisoned the well. Which meant that the Aquino administration, despite it's best initial intentions were caught drinking from the same poisoned water and swimming in the same poisoned lake as the one it replaced. In the end, the new regime was as guilty as the old one.
Meanwhile, the true voices of freedom were being permanently silenced, as they were during the darkest days of Marcos rule. Less than ten months after the February Revolution, Olalia was found dead after being abducted by uniformed thugs. Evidence of torture were present when his body was found as with several gunshot wounds to the face and the back of the head. Alejandro was gunned down several months later outside a Metro Manila courthouse after filing electoral complaints in the just concluded congressional election of 1987. Other progressives who dared to speak out about the ineffectiveness of the new regime were either harrassed, intimidated or dismissed as communists, terrorists or enemies of the state.
On the first anniversary celebration of People Power, a good half of the original participants decided to take a pass on it. Over the years, the succeeding celebrations to mark "the people's victory over tyranny" had degenerated into partisan political rallies for whomever held the main seat of power in Philippine politics. And the country had become increasingly polarized with so many competing interests yet no one seemed to have any idea on how to move forward. A far cry from the unity and bravery that was on display for the whole world to see in those historic four days in February 1986. The four days in EDSA.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
PEOPLE POWER : The EDSA Revolt 25 years after Part 1
The recent developments in the Middle East has brought me to reminisce on a similar event that took place in my country, the Philippines twenty-five years ago this month. As I witnessed the recently successful struggle for democratic reform in Egypt, where hundreds of thousands of brave men and women, in solidarity for the cause of freedom and democracy peacefully and ultimately brought down a cruel and malevolent dictator, I can't help but look back on what many around the world consider as the blueprint for modern democratic revolution. The February 1986 Philippine uprising-the People Power revolt.
In Manila on February 25, 1986, longtime Philippine strongman Ferdinand Marcos and his family were hastily spirited away by American military personnel from the presidential palace as his 20-year regime came to an inglorious end. In the aftermath of a highly disputed and scandalously fraudulent presidential election result, many thousands of ordinary Filipinos took to the streets of Manila and it's surrounding environs, in support of Marcos challenger Corazon C. Aquino and her call for a country-wide civil disobedience campaign. On February 22nd, as the fear of an impending government crackdown began to envelop the Philippine capital like a dark cloud, Marcos' defense minister and longtime political associate Juan Ponce Enrile and Armed Forces second-in-command (and Marcos' cousin) Lt. Gen. Fidel Ramos broke ranks with the government and firmly placed their support for the people's quest for change. Together with a handful of reform-minded and heavily armed soldiers, they holed up in Camp Aguinaldo, headquarters of the Ministry of National Defense to take a symbolic stand against their former boss. What happened in the next four days would completely baffle political watchers everywhere and irrevocably change the political order, not only in the Philippines but elsewhere around the world. Unique and historical. Revolution through non-violence. And it all happened on a Greater Manila thoroughfare called Epifanio delos Santos Avenue-or simply known as EDSA.
Ironically, the very root of it all came from one violent act two and a half years earlier. On August 21, 1983, Opposition leader and Marcos' political arch-nemesis Benigno Ninoy Aquino was assassinated by his military escorts just minutes after landing at Manila's International airport. The former senator, in ending his more than three-year exile in the United States, publicly stated that he was seeking a dialogue with his tormentor in the hopes of perhaps finding a path to democratization through "political reconciliation". In reality, Aquino offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb, knowing that his death through political assassination might bring about worldwide attention and condemnation to the brutal regime of Ferdinand E.Marcos. More importantly, his death could be the messianic symbol that might help embolden his countrymen and shake off their apathy and indifference towards a fascist dictatorship. And on both of those, it did.
The political and economic consequences of the Aquino assassination reverberated almost immediately. Mere months after the tragedy, the Philippine economy lay in ruins as foreign capital took flight out of the country besieged by political instability and rocked further by speculation that the Marcos administration was the prime mover behind Aquino's slaying. The upheaval caused enormous pressure on Marcos (and his enablers in Washington, D.C.) that in late 1985 during an interview on Ted Koppel's ABC news show Nightline, the embattled Philippine leader himself made a surprise announcement. He was calling for a snap presidential election, slated for February 7th of the following year, in order to secure a new mandate, or in his own words-a new covenant with the Filipino people. Unyielding in his quest to hang on to power despite local and international condemnation, the president was relying on his vast wealth and a divided political opposition to deliver his new covenant. And if all else fails, he had the overwhelming support of the generals and the commanding officers of his military and state police forces.
Like all fading dictators, Marcos misread the true will of his own people. Ensconced in his palace and surrounded by sycophants, the president underestimated the anger and frustration that was spilling out on the surface. And as expected, he rolled out his battle-tested political machinery for an election campaign, backed up by coercion, intimidation and in several cases, deadly violence to achieve his "covenant". But the Filipinos have had enough. On election day, they showed up in record numbers. And despite the threats of violence, they stayed on to safeguard for their most precious possession. Their right of free choice. And the choice was overwhelmingly in favour of change. And when the call was made by the opposition forces to support the Marcos mutineers entrenched inside the military camp on EDSA Avenue to protest the fraudulent election, they came in droves. Then-Colonel Gregorio Gringo Honasan, one of the popular figures of the February revolution, while on board a military helicopter to survey strategic positions put the gathered crowd at it's peak to be in the neighbourhood of two million upwards. More than two million Filipinos buffering two factions of the military, one for the fascist regime and one for a new beginning, both intent on armed confrontation. More than two million civilians who laid down in front of tanks and armoured carriers, clamouring for change. And for peace. In the end, peace won. Freedom won. And the people won.
As I watched the unfolding events in Egypt on TV, in the aftermath of Hosni Mubarak's flight from power, I heard a familiar refrain from people being interviewed by the world media in the streets of Cairo, the epicenter of the Egyptian revolution. Almost to a person, they proclaimed the same words----I am so proud to be an Egyptian. I have an intimate knowledge of that feeling.
On the evening of February 25, 1986, upon hearing the news of Marcos' complete downfall, I rushed off to the Quezon City Rotunda to watch the victorious crowd of EDSA as they marched along the circle. Standing there, continuously clapping hard until my hands were sore, I remember tears uncontrollably flowed down my face and as I looked around, the people standing alongside me were crying, too. Surely not for the fallen dictator but for his victims. Foremost in my mind was Ninoy Aquino, whose sacrifice touched off a movement so dedicated to the struggle for justice and freedom and whose own widow was now in charge of cleaning up the mess that Marcos and his minions left behind. On the walk back home, I felt something I had never felt before. I was so proud of my homeland and my countrymen. For the first time in my life, I was proud of who I am. A Filipino.
And the whole world watched in total amazement.
Three years later, in 1989 and the era of Mikhail Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika, I watched as the totalitarian Soviet eastern bloc states began to crumble. Like dominoes, they fell one by one. Czechoslovakia. Hungary. Poland. East Germany. Romania. Yugoslavia. Culminating in the fall of the entire Soviet Union itself in late 1991. Without a single shot fired, the cold war was over. And the international communist movement was dead. Not through military action or violent uprising. But spurred by people powered revolution. The same phenomenon that swept away a right-wing dictator in the Philippines three years earlier; the same phenomenon that is sweeping the Mideast today.
Democracy at it's purest form. Of the people. For the people. And by the people.
For in the end, state power rests in the hands of it's people. No amount of guns, goons and gold can match a unified citizenry and their will to be free. That there is no justice to be had through violence. And that violence only begets further violence. To entrench yourself and your own interest against a people's will puts you on a path of confrontation where you would eventually face the wrath of raw power. The power of the people.
In Manila on February 25, 1986, longtime Philippine strongman Ferdinand Marcos and his family were hastily spirited away by American military personnel from the presidential palace as his 20-year regime came to an inglorious end. In the aftermath of a highly disputed and scandalously fraudulent presidential election result, many thousands of ordinary Filipinos took to the streets of Manila and it's surrounding environs, in support of Marcos challenger Corazon C. Aquino and her call for a country-wide civil disobedience campaign. On February 22nd, as the fear of an impending government crackdown began to envelop the Philippine capital like a dark cloud, Marcos' defense minister and longtime political associate Juan Ponce Enrile and Armed Forces second-in-command (and Marcos' cousin) Lt. Gen. Fidel Ramos broke ranks with the government and firmly placed their support for the people's quest for change. Together with a handful of reform-minded and heavily armed soldiers, they holed up in Camp Aguinaldo, headquarters of the Ministry of National Defense to take a symbolic stand against their former boss. What happened in the next four days would completely baffle political watchers everywhere and irrevocably change the political order, not only in the Philippines but elsewhere around the world. Unique and historical. Revolution through non-violence. And it all happened on a Greater Manila thoroughfare called Epifanio delos Santos Avenue-or simply known as EDSA.
Ironically, the very root of it all came from one violent act two and a half years earlier. On August 21, 1983, Opposition leader and Marcos' political arch-nemesis Benigno Ninoy Aquino was assassinated by his military escorts just minutes after landing at Manila's International airport. The former senator, in ending his more than three-year exile in the United States, publicly stated that he was seeking a dialogue with his tormentor in the hopes of perhaps finding a path to democratization through "political reconciliation". In reality, Aquino offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb, knowing that his death through political assassination might bring about worldwide attention and condemnation to the brutal regime of Ferdinand E.Marcos. More importantly, his death could be the messianic symbol that might help embolden his countrymen and shake off their apathy and indifference towards a fascist dictatorship. And on both of those, it did.
The political and economic consequences of the Aquino assassination reverberated almost immediately. Mere months after the tragedy, the Philippine economy lay in ruins as foreign capital took flight out of the country besieged by political instability and rocked further by speculation that the Marcos administration was the prime mover behind Aquino's slaying. The upheaval caused enormous pressure on Marcos (and his enablers in Washington, D.C.) that in late 1985 during an interview on Ted Koppel's ABC news show Nightline, the embattled Philippine leader himself made a surprise announcement. He was calling for a snap presidential election, slated for February 7th of the following year, in order to secure a new mandate, or in his own words-a new covenant with the Filipino people. Unyielding in his quest to hang on to power despite local and international condemnation, the president was relying on his vast wealth and a divided political opposition to deliver his new covenant. And if all else fails, he had the overwhelming support of the generals and the commanding officers of his military and state police forces.
Like all fading dictators, Marcos misread the true will of his own people. Ensconced in his palace and surrounded by sycophants, the president underestimated the anger and frustration that was spilling out on the surface. And as expected, he rolled out his battle-tested political machinery for an election campaign, backed up by coercion, intimidation and in several cases, deadly violence to achieve his "covenant". But the Filipinos have had enough. On election day, they showed up in record numbers. And despite the threats of violence, they stayed on to safeguard for their most precious possession. Their right of free choice. And the choice was overwhelmingly in favour of change. And when the call was made by the opposition forces to support the Marcos mutineers entrenched inside the military camp on EDSA Avenue to protest the fraudulent election, they came in droves. Then-Colonel Gregorio Gringo Honasan, one of the popular figures of the February revolution, while on board a military helicopter to survey strategic positions put the gathered crowd at it's peak to be in the neighbourhood of two million upwards. More than two million Filipinos buffering two factions of the military, one for the fascist regime and one for a new beginning, both intent on armed confrontation. More than two million civilians who laid down in front of tanks and armoured carriers, clamouring for change. And for peace. In the end, peace won. Freedom won. And the people won.
As I watched the unfolding events in Egypt on TV, in the aftermath of Hosni Mubarak's flight from power, I heard a familiar refrain from people being interviewed by the world media in the streets of Cairo, the epicenter of the Egyptian revolution. Almost to a person, they proclaimed the same words----I am so proud to be an Egyptian. I have an intimate knowledge of that feeling.
On the evening of February 25, 1986, upon hearing the news of Marcos' complete downfall, I rushed off to the Quezon City Rotunda to watch the victorious crowd of EDSA as they marched along the circle. Standing there, continuously clapping hard until my hands were sore, I remember tears uncontrollably flowed down my face and as I looked around, the people standing alongside me were crying, too. Surely not for the fallen dictator but for his victims. Foremost in my mind was Ninoy Aquino, whose sacrifice touched off a movement so dedicated to the struggle for justice and freedom and whose own widow was now in charge of cleaning up the mess that Marcos and his minions left behind. On the walk back home, I felt something I had never felt before. I was so proud of my homeland and my countrymen. For the first time in my life, I was proud of who I am. A Filipino.
And the whole world watched in total amazement.
Three years later, in 1989 and the era of Mikhail Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika, I watched as the totalitarian Soviet eastern bloc states began to crumble. Like dominoes, they fell one by one. Czechoslovakia. Hungary. Poland. East Germany. Romania. Yugoslavia. Culminating in the fall of the entire Soviet Union itself in late 1991. Without a single shot fired, the cold war was over. And the international communist movement was dead. Not through military action or violent uprising. But spurred by people powered revolution. The same phenomenon that swept away a right-wing dictator in the Philippines three years earlier; the same phenomenon that is sweeping the Mideast today.
Democracy at it's purest form. Of the people. For the people. And by the people.
For in the end, state power rests in the hands of it's people. No amount of guns, goons and gold can match a unified citizenry and their will to be free. That there is no justice to be had through violence. And that violence only begets further violence. To entrench yourself and your own interest against a people's will puts you on a path of confrontation where you would eventually face the wrath of raw power. The power of the people.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)