Philippines tears itself apart

By A Lin Neumann
Southeast Asia Online
Feb 25 2006

MANILA - The Philippines is marking the 20th anniversary of its finest political hour with a demonstration that its democracy remains brittle, its political institutions on the point of collapse, its economy as corrupt as ever and its leaders embroiled in endless rounds of infighting.

On Friday, as already-splintered veterans of the so-called People Power revolt prepared to mark the occasion when masses of people and military rebels peacefully forced then-president Ferdinand Marcos to flee the country on February 25, 1986, embattled President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo declared a formal state of emergency - a chilling echo of the language and tactics employed by Marcos when he instituted martial law in 1972.

Arroyo claims to have uncovered a plot hatched by a collage of the political opposition, rebel communists and "military adventurists" to topple her government. Her emergency decree comes fast on the heels of reports about troop movements and suspicious activities of at least one army general linked to previous military attempts to overthrow the government.

The left and the right, Arroyo said, "are now in a tactical alliance and engaged in a concerted and systematic conspiracy, over a broad front, to bring down the duly constituted government". She also said, "The claims of these elements have been recklessly magnified by certain segments of the national media."

The declaration gives her government broad discretionary powers, including provisions that allow authorities to arrest without warrants, seize public utilities and, if deemed necessary, to shore up national security and censor the media. Arroyo has not yet spelled out her plans to enforce her already shaky grip on political power, but the decree sends a worrying signal for the future of Philippine democracy.

The state of emergency led to the arrest of one general linked to previous coup attempts, a few other arrests and a ban on protests and ceremonies timed to the People's Power anniversary. But when Corazon Aquino, the woman who succeeded Marcos, led a peaceful march through the heart of the business district, authorities backed down after a brief standoff with riot police and allowed several thousand protesters to continue.

Aquino is the closest thing the Philippines has to a moral leader, largely considered above partisan politics, and anger over Arroyo's move during a virtual national holiday celebrating democracy may open the door to a broader movement against her government. "I am not an icon of democracy," Aquino said in Tagalog to cheering supporters. "You are all, collectively, the icon of democracy."

Aquino, who also supported the ouster of Arroyo's predecessor in 2001, then said in English: "Mrs President, I ask you to make the supreme sacrifice of resigning." The crowd roared back: "Gloria resign!"

As important in some ways as Aquino were others in the crowd - she was joined by some of the country's leading businessmen, whose support for Arroyo has been steadily eroding. "The state of emergency weakens her," said Jess Estanislao, a well-known banker and former finance secretary, as he marched with Aquino. "This is the beginning of the end for Arroyo."

That may be wishful thinking, but Arroyo, who was installed in office in 2001 on the wave of another popular revolt against then-president Joseph Estrada's government, has been unsteady for much of the past year. The controversy surrounding her administration came to a head last year when she was secretly taped discussing the 2004 presidential-election vote count with an election official on the telephone. The tapes were made public under mysterious circumstances, and her political opponents have been trying to force her resignation ever since.

The latest turn of the political screw is further evidence that the once-high hopes for better governance and more democracy engendered by the first People's Power revolt in 1986, a peaceful four-day uprising that inspired similar actions worldwide, have now come almost completely undone. In the intervening years, in many ways, things have gone from bad to worse.

Following Marcos, Aquino's administration was beset by numerous coup attempts by a politically active and restive military. Traditional elites, some of whom had run afoul of Marcos, returned with a vengeance to resume positions of privilege and patronage. Back-door deal-making was the order of the day, despite Aquino's morally upright reputation.

Marcos died in exile, but none of his cronies, the same men who helped him systematically loot the country, were successfully prosecuted. The group Transparency International says the official thievery under Marcos made his regime the second most corrupt of the 20th century - outdone only by Indonesia's deposed Suharto.

Marcos' notoriously flamboyant and wealthy widow, Imelda, has never been convicted of any crime, despite facing hundreds of court cases. She remains a fixture on the social scene, as bejeweled and lacquered as ever, and her children are gearing up for political careers.

After a period of relative political calm and notable economic progress under Fidel Ramos' six-year term in the 1990s, political turmoil returned soon after former actor Estrada was elected president on a populist ticket. Corruption allegations hounded his government and fueled the "People's Power 2" rallies that eventually overthrew his administration - even though he was democratically elected and is still popular with the majority of poor Filipinos.

The result of what is now more than two decades of instability that began under Marcos and continued through coup attempts and the two popular revolts, the last something approaching mob rule, has been anemic economic growth, entrenched poverty, soaring birth rates and a political system captive to shifting loyalties and endless intrigues.

The Philippines' economy is kept afloat largely on remittances from overseas workers with mainly menial jobs in more-developed economies. Those inflows amounted to a record US$10.35 billion last year, equivalent to a quarter of the country's exports, or about 12% of gross domestic product.

The current state of affairs raises questions among the political elite about the future viability of liberal democracy in the Philippines. "What is clear to me after 20 years is that democracy is not a prescription for economic progress. Not the way we practice it," said Teodoro Locsin Jr, one of Aquino's closest advisers and now a nominally pro-government congressman.

Indeed, so fractured is the political environment that none of the leaders of the first People's Power movement will appear together publicly to commemorate the events. Aquino, for one, is planning to attend a mass and a rally on Saturday at the shrine to "Our Lady of EDSA", a massive statue of the Virgin Mary erected near Epifanio Delos Santos Avenue (EDSA) in Manila, the place where nuns knelt in prayer in 1986 before the armored vehicles of Marcos' army to stop potential violence.

For his part, Ramos plans to preside at a flag-raising ceremony at another monument. Juan Ponce Enrile, who was linked to a series of coup attempts against Aquino, is boycotting the whole thing.

Even before her state-of-emergency announcement, Arroyo, the daughter of a former president and herself an anti-Marcos activist, was avoiding public commemorations of the event.

The depth of the infighting runs deep. Ramos, 77, who likes to view himself as a Filipino version of Singapore's elder statesman Lee Kwan Yew, has repeatedly demanded that Arroyo step down by next year and has called for a radical new constitution that would change the Philippines from a presidential to a parliamentary political system. "It is the only solution to our instability," he said in an interview.

Is Ramos involved in current plots? He won't say. "We are trying to keep everyone in the same ship," Ramos joked over drinks in his office after a long meeting with some of Arroyo's known enemies. "But not necessarily with the same skipper.

"Arroyo," he said, "is small-minded and self-centered." Her government, he believes, is corrupt and has lost its legitimacy. Noting the self-imposed exile of her husband, Mike Arroyo, after he was accused of involvement in a nationwide gambling syndicate, Ramos said, "The First Gentleman is the source of a lot of graft and corruption."

Politicians in the Philippines routinely rip into one another, so perhaps Ramos' comments should be taken with a pinch of salt. But the current political environment is as fractured as it has been in years. Whereas the struggle against Marcos had a palpable story line of good versus evil, the current free-for-all appears venal on all sides. Ever since Marcos fell, the Philippines has been exhausted by conspiracies, half-baked economic policies and endless political intrigue. Not to mention widespread disappointment.

What did Ramos expect when the revolt he began in 1986 succeeded? "Upwards, upwards, upwards," he said. Twenty years later? "We are sinking," he said.

A Lin Neumann is a veteran Philippines correspondent who witnessed the movement that led to the overthrow of Ferdinand Marcos.

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