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Saturday, February 10, 2001
MANILA -- At the outset, I must admit that I was not in the trenches, or in this case in the middle of the million or so Filipinos crowded shoulder to shoulder at an intersection of a highway named EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue), like most other foreign journalists covering the change of power in the Philippines.
On Jan. 27, as word spread through Manila that the Senate was about to squelch corruption charges against President Joseph Estrada, a peaceful revolt was born. Office buildings emptied as employees walked off their jobs, factory workers abandoned their machines and whole families left their homes to march in protest. It was the beginning of People Power 2 and the end of Erap.
By Corky Trinidad
Star-BulletinMy family and I were in the country at my father's death bed, watching the presidential intrigue on TV. My brothers and sister took turns telling him what was happening, hoping he could still hear their excited blow-by-blow account, trying to keep him current on the historic event sweeping the country.
Family and friends are certain he died a happy man, as he succumbed after Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was sworn in as president.
EDSA Revolution 2, as swiftly dubbed by Manila's headline writers, may be hard to fathom by western analysts used to either legal or illegal takeovers of governments. Already, debates on the constitutionality of the Arroyo ascendancy to the presidency are appearing in the U.S. press much to the dismay of Filipino columnists ("Don't they know democracy?"). We are used to military coups d'etat, bloody fighting in the streets, army against army, police shooting at demonstrators. But a civilian coup d'etat? A peaceful mob rule?
Even a nonparticipant could see, though, that EDSA 2 was very Filipino in its uniqueness. The "mob" that swelled to more than a million at its height had no leaders, really. The core was a prayer vigil at the EDSA shrine (erected to commemorate the revolution against then- President Ferdinand Marcos) that nuns, priests, religious groups and scores of workers' organizations had kept nightly since the start of the impeachment trial of President Joseph Estrada.As the news of the senate vote to quell the revelation of a secret bank account spread, people flocked to the site. Philippine Stock Exchange workers shut down their machines and walked en masse toward EDSA. Colleges canceled classes, and teachers and students converged on the shrine.
People left their jobs, while those from outlying provinces asked for donations to go to Manila to join housewives, businessmen, blue-collar and white-collar workers and whole families marching amidst a noisy barrage of car horns and banging pots and pans. There was no specific idea of what to do except to show anger and to protest.
By midday, People Power 2 was reborn.
It was unique, too, among other street protests in the region, as there was no violence of any kind. Both the authorities and demonstrators seemed determined to keep things civil. The only fatality in the four days was a school classmate of mine, who suffered a heart attack during a heated debate with an Estrada supporter outside the senate.
In half a day, soldiers had joined the demonstrators reprising EDSA 1. Filipinos showed once again that they were willing to die, but not kill, for a cause. It was very Filipino, too, in that the protest had an air of religious guidance. Statues of the Virgin Mary and portraits of Jesus Christ and other religious icons were all over the place, bobbing above the crowd, held aloft by demonstrators. Marchers walked around while reciting prayers; invective chants against President Estrada mingled with familiar songs from Mass.
The guiding force of the revolution was once again two people who had absolutely no desire, motive or agenda for political power: former President Cory Aquino and Catholic Cardinal Jaime Sin. Both had waged a ceaseless campaign to persuade Estrada to resign for the good -- economically, morally and in credibility -- of the country. In the early days, before the impeachment proceedings, the pair made up the core of the protest.
When the chiefs of the different branches of the armed forces and national police, the defense secretary and other members of the Estrada cabinet finally joined former President Fidel Ramos and Vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo on stage at the EDSA shrine, the government in effect had joined the demonstrators. The cheers of People Power signalled the end of Estrada's mandate. The people giveth, the people taketh away.
The fall of Erap
President Joseph Ejercito Estrada was not swept from office by a sudden whirlwind. People Power 2 began building a year after his inauguration. One might even argue that it was festering from the moment he was sworn in -- this movie star elected by the masa (the masses) over the grudging resignation but not acceptance of the middle class and business community.To say that Estrada was a mere movie star does not fully explain the significance of the man in a changing Philippine society. Estrada, or Erap as everybody calls him (backward street slang for pare, Filipino for friend or kumpare), was the most famous action star in the late 1950s and early '60s at a time when the fledgling Philippine cinema was associated with the lower-middle class and the poor. The upper crust only saw Hollywood-made movies.
The son of a well-to-do family, the product of private schools and universities, Estrada became an actor at a time when the sons and daughters of "good" families did not join the movie industry. The country was also in the waning period of a class struggle spawned by the Communist movement, and in the beginnings of a social and political awareness that only a very few rich people owned most of the land and controlled most of the businesses and politics of the country.
Estrada's movies played on this theme. His roles were always of the poor, oppressed Everyman fighting cruel landlords, abusive police or military, and always winning in the end over the rich authority figures and the establishment. He saved his street, his neighborhood, his barrio against all odds. His most famous role was of a real-life gangster, Asiong Salonga.
He became the masa's idol. The poor identified with the simple, oppressed man who feistily fought back. He played the persona to the hilt even in his own life. The swaggering, beer-drinking womanizer even played up his struggle with the English language to accentuate his rank in the social stratum. The performance was worthy of an Oscar.
Estrada parlayed the role into politics, running for and winning the mayoralty of San Juan, a Manila suburb, and becoming the first actor to win political office. By the Marcos years, he had left the mayor's job and won a seat in the senate. After the 1986 revolution against martial law, his close association with Marcos didn't affect his popularity with the masa so that, despite being from a different party than President Ramos, he was elected vice president.
By the time Estrada ran for the presidency, his popularity with the masa was insurmountable. Despite the fact that the church and other religious groups, the business community, former presidents, the intelligencia and other segments of established society campaigned against him, he handily beat five candidates who canceled out each other's votes.
So what went wrong?
In fairness to Estrada, no Philippine president was inaugurated with more cynicism and preconceived hostility than the former actor. There are no secrets in Philippine social and political circles so his hedonistic lifestyle never left the eyes of the frowning Catholic Church. His political debts to Chinese money and personal ties to friends of dubious repute gave the business community the shudders. The most pressing problem of the country was economic and the new president was not inclined to devote much time to it despite his abstract campaign promise to help the poor.In fairness to Estrada, too, the Asian economy as a whole had collapsed by the time he was elected. The Philippines suffered like most countries in the region, after a moderate boomlet under President Ramos. No Philippine president was inaugurated with a more pressing need to prove himself up to the job.
But Erap himself gave a clue to his style of administration in his first interview after being elected. He said that the presidency should largely be ceremonial. He would appoint the best people to the cabinet and departments and leave them to do their jobs. His main objective was to cheer up the masa, boosting their confidence in government. He even contemplated traveling the archipelago and living in a different province at a time "to bring Malacañang Palace to the whole country." To say that he was not hands-on was an understatement.
He appointed various friends to lucrative chairmanships and memberships of different government positions and boards. Even the foreign service was not spared. Much to the objection of the foreign office and the Los Angeles Filipino community, he picked a retired actor, past retirement age, to serve as consul general in Los Angeles because he had asked for the job. Meanwhile, his friends and cronies ran rampant in the country, enriching themselves because they had only six years to do so.
By the second year of his presidency, Estrada was called upon by Cardinal Sin to get rid of his cronies. Former President Corazon Aquino and Sen. Teofisto Guingona were also demanding his resignation for the good of the country. Foreign businesses were packing up and leaving, while investors were staying away. The peso plummeted.
But like a figure in a Greek tragedy, Estrada played out his role. For one thing, his popularity with the masa was still strong. Furthermore, the Asian recession gave him a ready-made alibi for not uplifting the poor as he had promised. His movie persona gave him immunity from the graft and corruption going around. His cronies were enriching themselves but not Estrada. In the eyes of the masa, he was still a simple man with simple tastes and ways. The poor were willing to wait for better days.
When protest rallies did start popping up, he ridiculed the efforts of his detractors as misguided attempts by religious do-gooders, personified by Cardinal Sin, and uppercrust housewives, personified by former President Aquino, to discredit his government. By and large, the masa believed him.
Here comes impeachment
The impeachment trial changed all that. After he was accused by one of his cronies of accepting millions of dollars in bribes from illegal gambling lords and of systematically looting gasoline taxes from the moment he came into office, succeeding investigations and the impeachment trial brought everything out in the open.The televised trial mesmerized Filipinos, rich and poor, for hours every day, as revelations of Estrada's personal wealth and lifestyle were revealed: mistresses occupying million-dollar mansions; kickbacks received and placed in secret bank accounts under assumed names; businesses practically taken over by his sons or friends, then resold at extorted prices to the owners.
The man of the masa had an expensive lifestyle and tastes after all. The emperor had clothes of silk. As enumerated by the prosecution, the man had accumulated, in a shorter period of time, wealth even greater than that of Ferdinand Marcos. Estrada's people, the poor, were shocked by the revelations.
Even the source of his strength was changing. Show business was not the same as decades ago. Movies and television were now part of a robust nationwide industry putting out quality products and featuring younger, more wholesome idols. Sons and daughters of presidents, senators and governors, and young men and women from "good" schools and universities were now joining the industry.
Actors were winning elective offices everywhere. The governors of many provinces are superstars like Vilma Valera; the mayors of many metropolitan cities are cinema and television stars. A popular senator, Loren Legarda, was a TV news anchor. Suddenly, Estrada became just another politician making a pile of money and never fulfilling promises.
Like a dam that has been showing cracks for three years, his security burst when, to the shock of the whole country, his Senate allies blocked the opening of a bank account (under one of his assumed names) as evidence in the senate trial.
Prosecutors walked out. Senate ally Tessie Aquino-Orreta tauntingly danced as she watched them and members of the gallery get up and leave in disgust. She had no idea that her little jig would become the most hated visual icon of the Estrada downfall, doubly hurtful because Orreta is the sister of slain martyr Ninoy Aquino.
Overnight, people started walking toward the EDSA shrine. By midmorning, People Power 2 had grown to an angry throng of a million. Joining former Presidents Aquino and Ramos onstage were well-known faces of the cinema industry, including superstar Nora Aunor, among Estrada's mistresses and closest friends calling for him to step down.
Thousands also marched to the gates of Malacañang, where the president was drinking with his buddies at a party for a departing press secretary. Had he gone to the gates, he would have seen that the faces calling for his resignation were not religious do-gooders and uppercrust housewives but the masa living in slums and ghettos surrounding the palace. And he would have recognized that this was one ending that was not going according to his script.
Meet the new president
The latest joke in the Philippines goes like this:"Marcos was the first dictator to become president.
"Aquino, the first woman.
"Ramos, the first general.
"Estrada, the first actor.
"And Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is the first Pokemon president."Two little machines led to the revolution of EDSA 2: the cellular phone and Arroyo herself.
It is the consensus in the Philippines that the swiftness by which People Power 2 swept Estrada out of office was the result of the tiny communication instrument that Filipinos have embraced like a sixth sense.
Everybody in the country seems to have a cell phone, even beggars who peer into car windows in traffic jams. Filipinos also constantly send messages to each other throughout the day. During EDSA 2, in fact, more messages were sent by cell phone in Manila than in all of Europe combined.
During the country's first revolt against Marcos, the Catholic Church radio station Veritas was a moving force, informing people of any news, announcing movements of the military and guiding the populace on where to gather until Marcos troops blew up its tower.
This time, the little cell phone expedited things. Messages were instant, widespread and unstoppable. News and rumors spread like fire. When cell phone messages reported that Estrada was going to withdraw some cash from his bank, hundreds suddenly blocked the entrance to the little suburban branch. The speed and decisiveness of EDSA 2 couldn't have been possible without this tiny, far-reaching and effective machine.
Arroyo could be described in much the same way. The diminutive vice president, who looks at least 20 years younger than her actual age of 49, was the right person at the right time. The former senator, with a degree and expertise in economics, gathered more votes for vice president, despite being from another political party, than Estrada did as president. She is smart, popular and not flashy.
It is too early to tell if she will be up to the challenge. But Philippine presidents are pegged to the dollar. The rate of the peso to the dollar has always been the barometer of confidence -- or non-confidence -- for any administration. It was two pesos to one during President Magsaysay's term; four to one when I left 31 years ago; 27 to one after the Marcos' martial law regime.
It steadily climbed to a high of 55 pesos to one under Estrada. The day after Arroyo was sworn in, the rate suddenly dropped to 47 to one. Not an economic miracle by a long shot, but an indication of rising confidence by the business community.
Arroyo shuns cronyism
In her first week, the new president showed her political savvy by shoring up the base of her support and addressing some immediate concerns. The morning after her inauguration, she paid a surprise visit to a TV talk show to wish guest and honoree Corazon Aquino a happy birthday; attended the Philippine Military Academy graduation that Estrada had skipped his first year because he attended a glitzy showbiz wedding; appointed a former defense minister and general as her executive secretary; visited Cardinal Sin and addressed cronyism concerns by persuading her son to abandon his campaign for a congressional seat in their province and announcing that no relative would be eligible for a government post.To show her attention to detail, she announced during a press conference that she could now be addressed as President Arroyo. The very lengthy Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo moniker that she had used for years, capitalizing on her famous maiden name, was giving newspaper headline writers fits. Moreover, in the initials-loving Philippines, GMA was a confusing acronym since it was also the trademark of a major TV network.
All her political savvy and ability will be needed to solve her first dilemma -- whether to pursue criminal charges against Estrada and his cronies. If she does, her government might get bogged down in litigation instead of devoting itself to more immediate and important problems. But if she doesn't, she might make the mistake of past administrations that let the Marcoses and their gang off the hook, which left the country holding the bag.
Passionate arguments for both sides are swirling around. Estrada, insisting that he is still president but on leave, is buttressing his party for a big run in the senatorial races this May. The plan is to win big as a vindication of his administration and as a condemnation of the "unconstitutional" grab of power by Arroyo.
Her opponents have the money. They have the resources to destabilize the government. Cell phones are crammed with messages daily in a war of words for the hearts and minds of the Filipino. How Arroyo will weather the storm will determine if there will be an EDSA People Power 3.
