Filipino Politics: Development and Decay 9781501739095

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Politics

and

International Relations of Southeast Asia

Burma: Military Rule and

by Josef

GENERAL EDITOR

George McT. Kahin

the Politics of Stagnation

Silverstein

Malaysia and Singapore: The Building of New States by Stanley S. Bedlington Thailand: Society and Politics

by John The

L. S. Girling

Army and

Politics in Indonesia

by Harold Crouch Filipino Politics:

Development and Decay

by David Wurfel

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FILIPINO POLITICS Development and Decay

DAVID WURFEL

Cornell University Press

ITHACA AND LONDON

Copyright

©

1988 by Cornell University

Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, 124 Roberts Place, Ithaca, New York All rights reserved.

14850. First

published 1988 by Cornell University Press.

Book Number 0-8014-1872-0 Fibrary of Congress Catalog Card Number 88-3621 International Standard

Printed in the United States of America Librarians: Library of Congress cataloging information

appears on the

The paper

last

page of the book.

in this book

permanence and

is

acid-free

and meets

durability of the Committee

the guidelines for

on Production Guidelines

for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.

Contents

Foreword,

by

George McT. Kaliin

vii

Preface

1.

The

2.

Political

3.

The The The

4. 5.

6.

xi

Historical Legacy

1

Culture and the Socialization Process Socioeconomic Setting

Regime Martial Law Regime Domestic Policy: Agrarian Reform and the Search

24 52 74 114

Constitutional

for

National Unity

154 177

10.

Foreign Policy: Strategies for Regime Survival Opposition to Martial Law Toward Normalization? From Accelerated Decay to “Revolutionary” Succession

11.

Conclusion

204 233 274 325

Suggested Readings Index

341 347

7. 8.

9.

Digitized by the Internet Archive in

2017 with funding from

China-America

Digital

Academic

Library

(CADAL)

https://archive.org/detaiis/fiiipinopoiiticsOOwurf

Foreword

That broad area lying between China and India which since World War II has generally been known as Southeast Asia is one of the most heterogeneous

in the world.

Though

it

is

generally referred to as a

region, the principal basis for this designation

component

is

simply the geographic

and the fact that collectively they occupy the territory between China and the Indian subcontinent. The fundamental strata of the traditional cultures of nearly all the numerous peoples of Southeast Asia do set them apart from those of India and China. Beyond that, however, there are few common denominators among the states that currently make up the area except for propinquity of

its

states

roughly similar climate conditions and, until recently at least, broadly similar economies and economic problems. The political systems presently governing the lives of Southeast Asia’s 400 million inhabitants have been built on considerably different cultures; the religious component alone embraces Buddhism, Confucianism, Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam. Except in the case of Thailand, the politics of all these countries have been conditioned by periods of colonial rule ranging from little more than half a century each of which has had a distinctive character to approximately four and political legacy. Even the nature of the Japanese wartime occupation, which covered the entire area, varied considerably among the several countries and had different political consequences. And after Japan’s defeat, the courses to independence followed by these states diverged widely. Only through revolutionary anticolonial wars were two of the most populous, Indonesia and Vietnam, able to assert their independence. Although the others followed routes that were peaceful, they were not all necessarily smooth, and the time involved varied by as much as a decade. Moreover, subsequent to independence the political character of these states has continued to be signihcantly affected by a wide range of relationships with outside powers. In a few cases these have been largely harmonious, attended by only relatively minor external efforts

— —

viii

Foreword

developments. However, most of these countries have been the objects of interventions, covert and which have particularly the United States overt, by outside powers been calculated to shape their political life in accordance with external interests. Thus, the range of contemporary political systems in Southeast Asia is strikingly varied, encompassing a spectrum quite as broad as the differing cultures and divergent historical conditionings that have so profoundly influenced their character. This series, “Politics and International Relations of Southeast Asia,” stems from an earlier effort to treat the nature of government and politics in the states of Southeast Asia in a single volume. Since the second, revised edition of that book. Governments and Politics of Southeast Asia, was published in 1964, interest in these countries has grown, for understandable reasons, especially in the United States. This wider public concern, together with a greater disposition of academics to draw on the political experience of these countries in their teaching, has suggested the need for a more substantial treatment of their politics and governments than could be subsumed within the covers of a single book. The series therefore aims to devote separate volumes to each of the larger Southeast Asian states. Presumably one no longer needs to observe, as was the case in 1964, that the countries treated “are likely to be strange to many of our readers.” But even though the increased American interaction with most of the countries has clearly obviated that proposition, many readers are still likely to be unacquainted with their earlier histories and the extent to which their pasts have affected the development of their to influence the course of local political

—

—

recent and contemporary political character.

Thus

all

these volumes

include substantial historical sections as well as descriptions of the

of the present social and economic setting. In order to provide as much similarity of treatment as is compatible with the range of cultures and political systems presented by these states, the authors follow a broadly similar pattern of organization and analysis of their political history, dynamics, and processes. This effort to achieve some basis of comparability may appear rather modest, but to have attempted any greater degree of uniformity would have militated against the latitude and flexibility required to do justice to the differing characteristics of the political systems described. All the books are written by political scientists who have lived and carried out research in one or more of the countries for a considerable period and who have previously published scholarly studies on their internal politics. Although each of these volumes includes a section on the foreign policy of the country concerned, the increased importance of Southeast salient features

Foreword

ix

Asia in international relations that transcend this area has suggested the need for the series to include a few books focused on the foreign relations of

its

major

states.

As

is

true elsewhere, the foreign policies of

own domestic

these countries are heavily influenced by their

hence

all

politics;

contributors to the volumes that are concerned primarily with

international relations are also specialists

on the

internal politics of the

country, or countries, about whose foreign policy they write.

In addition, the series includes some in-depth treatments of particular aspects of the politics of the major states of the area. In these cases the focus

is

on an element of

central importance in the political

of the country concerned, the understanding of which helps illuminate its government and politics as a whole. The present volume on the Philippines reflects David Wurfefs long relationship with that country. His first year of residence there, 1947— 1948, was followed by a year’s research in 1955—1956 under a grant from the Ford Foundation on what has been an abiding interest of his, the political aspects of the country’s agrarian problems. Subsequently he has made more than a dozen trips to the Philippines, the most recent in mid- 1987. Issuing from these many years of research have life

been some

and monographs relevant broad spectrum embracing

thirty scholarly articles, chapters,

volume, ranging across a labor relations, wealth and power, elite composition, the consequences of population growth, elections, and foreign relations, as well as agrarto the present

ian policies. It is,

then, against a background of

more than three decades of

research and writing on the Philippines that Professor Wurfel analyzes the context and evolution of its modern political life.

George McT. Kahin Ithaca,

New

York

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f
se the president had been preparing for years. He had cultivated the military to

assiduously

command

and had

carefully

named

fellow Ilocanos to

positions to assure greater personal loyalty. In

his plans

seemed

partment

store, a

many

top

August 1972

Bombings were more frequent: a detelephone exchange, an electric power station, the

to accelerate.

Manila Times, December

10, 1971.

^^See Republic of the Philippines

vs.

William H. Quasha, G.R. No. L-30299, August

17, 1972.

See T.

J. S.

George, “Martial Law:

September 30, 1972.

How

It

Happened,” Far East Economic Review,

20

Filipino Politics

ConCon

Marcos always blamed the Maoists, but no culprit could be caught. Politically sophisticated Filipinos were more and more inclined to believe that Marcos was preparing a justihcation for martial law.^2 On September 12 Marcos told his National Security Council that lavatory.

could be easier for them to meet this threat if they can utilize some kind of and we are studying the authority other than ordinarily authorized matter. The next day Senator Aquino revealed to the press that a plan had been prepared for military takeover, claiming that he had received the information from ranking officers. He may have thought that a public statement would forestall the implementation of such a plan. But he probably hastened it instead. a state of rebellion existed: “the defense establishment feel

.

The Proclamation of Martial

On

September

20,

.

it

.

Law

1972, President Marcos went into prolonged

—

conference with the armed forces high command, of whom all except the vice-chief of staff, Gen. Rafael Ileto endorsed his proposals. The proclamation was signed that evening, but Marcos apparently felt he needed one more incident to justify implementation. On the night of September 22, Defense Secretary Enrile’s car was allegedly ambushed, though Enrile later admitted it was all staged. Immediately after the “ambush” was announced, hundreds of prominent and thousands of not-so-prominent persons were arrested, including, of course, Ninoy Aquino. On the evening of September 23 the president explained his

—

on

action

The

television.

had had no prior knowledge of the plans for martial law, but in fact Marcos had not acted without assurances of U.S. approval. After several discussions with Ambassador Henry Byroade on the implications of martial law, with the ambassador implying a negative reaction in Washington, Marcos sought a clearer message in early August. Byroade went to Washington for consultations with Nixon and Kissinger and returned to report that if martial law were needed to put down the Communist insurgency, the president would have U.S. backing. Unbeknown to Ambassador Byroade, Marcos also telephoned Nixon directly and received a similar U.S.

Embassy

insisted that

it

response. After the fact the Pentagon was enthusiastic; the queries

32

A

former adviser turned sharp

confirmed that interpretation. See Primiof Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos (San Francisco, 1976).

critic later

The Conjugal Dictatorship 33 Quoted in George, “Martial Law.”

tivo Mijares,

The

from Americans

to Filipino officials

Historical Legacy

both before and after were

21

pri-

marily about the impact on U.S. business. In retrospect the proclamation of martial law appears to have been produced by the convergence of three growing conflicts: between

and increasingly discontented masses; between foreign investors and economic nationalists, exacerbated by the impending demise of parity in 1974; and within the power elite, especially between Marcos and his two most potent competitors, Benigno Aquino and “sugar baron” Eugenio Lopez. Nationalists within the economic elite found that their awareness of the dangerous potential of the hrst conflict dulled their ardor for the second, allowing Marcos to use as allies against his foes both U.S. business and a large portion of leading Filipino entrepreneurs. It is therefore probably inaccurate to cast Marcos as simply a tool of American corporations.^® power-holding

elites

Conclusion

American

were important, but the interaction of intra-elite competition and organized mass pressures go a long way to explain the interests

more than

This interaction was shaped by three long-term trends. First, the economic interests of the politico-economic elite were becoming more diversified by the rise of Filipino commerce and manufacturing, and with diversity came the patterns of Filipino politics for

fifty years.

and more persistent intra-elite conflict, especially after exchange controls were imposed in 1948. Second, mass mobilization grew steadily as a result of education, media exposure, urbanization, and the organization of agrarian discontent. Third, despite the potential for deeper

continuing importance of hierarchies of patron-client relations, which did much to structure the pattern of both intra-elite competition and elite-mass relations, the salience of such hierarchies was eroded by the first two trends mentioned. The first trend was interrupted, however, whenever mass movements were especially threatening: the Sakdals in the 1930s, the Huks in the 1940s and 1950s, and the expansion of student and rural unrest in the late 1960s. Factions in the ruling elite then tended to coalesce

Raymond Bonner, Waltzing with a Dictator: The Marcoses and Policy (New York; Random House, 1987), pp. 6, 96-99, 108—9.

the

Making of American

^^See Shalom, p. 161. See Robert Stauffer, “The Political Economy of a Coup: Transnational Linkages and Philippine Political Response,” /oirma/ of Peace Research 11 (1974), for a somewhat different view.

22

Filipino Politics

more

tightly,

subordinating or even abandoning intra-elite conflict. This tendency was most obvious when the Nacionalista party reunited under Quezon in 1934 and when Magsaysay’s charisma overwhelmed party differences in the early 1950s. When Marcos achieved a tighter coalition in 1972, however,

he had

to use force,

because

elite interests

had become more diverse. Each of these three periods of tighter elite coalition saw a spurt of social reform designed not to change the economic system but, by “amelioration,” to save it. Between these three brief periods intra-elite competition was the theme of Filipino politics, with a corollary concern for building support through patronage. As mass mobilization increased, however, token social reform became less satisfying to peasant and worker organizations, so that forceful limitations on political participation eventually became essential from the standpoint of the ruling elite. The need for such limitations was intensihed by the low-wage requirements of export-oriented industrialization, increasingly popular in Asia

from the

late

1960s.

It is in

this historical

context that the

declaration of martial law can best be understood.

Except for families affected by the arrests, most people initially reacted to martial law with relief. The crescendo of crime and violence and the growing uncertainty had been ended, and it was possible to walk at night on the streets of Manila without the fear of molestation. Collection of the more than half a million privately held hrearms was vigorously pursued in the immediate wake of the martial law declaration.

Nevertheless,

some observers were surprised

at

the lack of immediate

public protest against the imposition of martial law. lay in the skill

and vigor of Marcos’s two-pronged

The

explanation

policy. First,

he had

arrested almost everyone inclined to lead or capable of leading orga-

nized opposition, and those not arrested feared for their freedom.

pronouncements about the policies of his New Society, President Marcos appeared to be dealing with the very problems to which Jovito Salonga had earlier pointed, problems that all Filipinos were eager to see resolved. Thus the early public reaction was not only relief at the end of crime and violence but hope that the New Society would deliver the needed social, economic, and political reform based on the assumption that restrictions on freedom of expression and association were temporary. In sum, the short-term reactions were what the president had expected. The longer-term consequences of the declaration of martial law were more complex. For the hrst time, however, the power of the central government allowed the ruler broad opportunities for altering the Second, in

initial

—

The

Historical Legacy

23

and socioeconomic change. How those opporwere used and for what purposes are questions to be addressed

direction of political tunities

book, along with an examination of public responses over the years. To assess the martial law years accurately, however, we must hrst review the pre-1972 political system and the cultural and socioeconomic environments in which it operated.

later in this

2

Political

The

Culture and

Socialization Process

The contemporary

of the Philippines has its roots in the country’s history. Every aspect of a people’s culture may have at least some remote consequence for politics.^ For analytical purposes we need to extract those portions which have the greatest relevance for political action. Cultural orientations may have a variety of objects, not merely values and beliefs relating to the state, its leaders, and their policies and the process by which they are made, but orientations toward the self, others, groups, and the nation. Seldom do all persons within a single political system hold an orientation in common. Every political culture has a variety of subcultures, groups of people who hold in common one or more values not shared by the rest of the polity. The subculture of isolated villagers, often termed “parochial,” contrasts with that of “participant” urban activists. In the Philippines the most distinctive and persistent subcultures are those where a sense of group identity separates members from positive attachment to the notion of a “Filipino nation.” political culture

Nationalism and National Identity

National identity citizens political

is

crucial to political culture. If the vast majority of

do not strongly system

is

identify with the nation, the stability of the

threatened.

The

Philippines,

though not a nation

before colonial rule, has since independence enjoyed a national cohesion greater than that found in most postcolonial states. Revolutionary leaders in the 1890s were already addressing manifestoes to “the Filipino people.”

A

But then a sense of national identity

has been best defined as “the system of empirical beliefs, expressive symbols and values which defines the situation in which political action takes place.” Lucian Pye and Sidney Verba, Political Culture and Political Development (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965), p. 513. *

political culture

Political

was probably primarily

Culture and Socialization

25

common

among

only to the revolutionary elites themselves, and Tagalogs. The execution of Jose Rizal, the defeat of

consummation of became part of the na-

the Filipino Revolution by the United States, and the

American occupation were traumas that tionalizing experience. American policies centralized administration and mass education broadened identihcation with the Filipino nation. The public schools, in fact, became the locus of a deliberate American the

—

—

effort to create national identity (albeit a variety inoffensive to the

colonial master). Filipino national identity was thus bolstered as

much by

the

Amer-

ican colonial educational system as by conflict with Americans, perhaps

a cause for the docility that characterized Filipino nationalism in the early years of independence, at least in comparison with nationalism in

most of postcolonial Southeast Asia. The tragic experience of war, occupation, and liberation had further intensihed emotional ties to Americans. Large numbers of Filipinos felt that in their struggle against the Japanese they had proved their friendship for America. Because Filipinos, perhaps even more than other peoples, tend to project their conceptions about proper relationships between individuals to the international scene, they assumed after the war the United States would treat their small, devastated nation with undemanding generosity. But U.S. postwar policy in the Philippines was neither undemanding nor generous in relation to need. The consequence was the hrst wave of anti-Americanism in the postwar Philippines. Close attachment to the United States clouded a clear sense of Filipino consciousness, and anti-Americanism was an essential step in the search for the national self. Not until 1962 did the Philippines take such an innocuous step as changing the date of Independence Day from July 4 when the United States surrendered sovereignty, to June 12 the day in 1898 when General Aguinaldo had proclaimed the independence of the Philippines. Salvador Lopez, former president of the University of the Philippines, has captured the Filipino quest for identity: “The Filipino, the most Westernized man of Asia, usually succeeds in giving the impression that he is quite proud to wear the political and cultural hnery of his former masters. But this son of Asia is never really at home in the Filipinos must fulhll their destiny by hnding themselves and West. by being themselves. ... It will require them to abandon the habit of regarding the Western elements of their heritage as things that set them, not merely apart from their neighbors, but above them as well.”^

—

.

.

.

Salvador Lopez, “The Colonial Relationship,” in Frank Golay, ed.. The United and the Philippines (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966), pp. 29—31. 2

States

26

Filipino Politics

Increased contact with their Asian neighbors in the 1950s made Filipino political and cultural elites aware that other Asians often regarded them as neither Westernized nor Asian. A renewed emphasis on the Asian heritage became necessary for the restoration of both personal

and national

self-esteem. Filipino histo-

rians revised colonial history texts; artists searched out pre-Western

motifs to inspire contemporary creations; and Filipino entrepreneurs

was consistent with their economic interests. Occasional American high-handedness gave further impetus to the cultivation of the nationalist spirit. Meanwhile a new generation of elites was emerging which had not matured under colonialism. By 1970 a rather virulent nationalism had swept through the vast student population of Manila and had attracted varying degrees of support among journalists, academics, politicians, and businessmen. The sharpening of a national identity among urbanized elite and middle-class elements was not, however, emulated in the countryside, at least in part because peasants had never been as thoroughly Hispanicized or Americanized as city dwellers. Politicians sensitive to ruralurban difference sometimes trimmed anti-American references from campaign speeches when they went to the provinces. In 1957 one nationalist intellectual. Senator Claro Rectol, made a very poor showing in his presidential bid though his ideology was not wholly responsible and even in the 1970s bits of evidence indicated that the American connection still dulled the Filipino identity at the mass level. One indicator may be a phenomenally high level of emigration and an even more widespread desire to emigrate (more than 80 percent of Cebu students surveyed in 1969 wanted to live abroad, mostly in the United States.)^ More surprising was the appearance in 1971 of “Philippine Statehood USA,” a movement that quickly gained hundreds of thousands of members (the group claimed millions) throughout the Philippines. The intentions of its leadership were not clear, but the desire for access to the American labor market motivated much support. Unemployment, itself in part a legacy of colonialism, is a serious problem in

found

that nationalism

—

—

the Philippines. Effective political leadership can nonetheless

elicit

a nationalist re-

sponse from the agrarian masses, especially when a connection is made with local grievances. A large dose of anti-American nationalism colored the manifestoes issued by Huk leaders in the 1940s and early 1950s, but not until the 1970s was nationalism again presented in such

^Robert O. Tilman, “Student Unrest in the Philippines: The View from the South,” Asian Survey 10 (October 1970), 900—909.

—

^

Political

way

Culture and Socialization

27

produce a strong, favorable response from the masses. By the 1980s nationalism was as much a mass as an elite phenomenon. a

as to

Regional

The

Identities

Philippines

is

a country of great linguistic

where more than eighty

—though not

racial

languages and dialects have been identified. The four major languages, Cebuano, Tagalog, Ilongo, and Ilocano, account for more than two-thirds of the population, and the eight most widely spoken languages for nearly 90 percent. The fear that linguistic cleavage might inhibit the growth of national identity provoked President Quezon in 1937 to designate Tagalog, the language of the Manila area, as the “National Language.” Somewhat modified, Tagalog is today called “Filipino.” Tagalog has had substantial assistance from the media (especially movies and comics) and is now the most widely spoken language in the country, having surpassed English in the late 1950s. English remains the dominant language of big business, government offices, and secondary and higher education, but Tagalog is gradually making inroads in all areas of usage. Nevertheless, the regional languages remain the medium of instruction in the lower elementary grades and the language of the home for almost all families. Bicolanos, Ilocanos, and Pampanguenos continued to diversity

distinct

and voters prefer candidates from their national political contests. In 1965 Marcos

identify themselves as such,

own

linguistic

group

in

received only 53 percent of the vote nationally, but nearly 95 percent in Ilocano provinces. (Ilocanos, in fact, seem to be the linguistic group

support their own.) A national survey in 1969 reported that “candidate’s dialect” was much more important than “candidate’s party” to voters in all regions.^ Yet linguistic identity seems clearly subordinate to political identification as “Filipino” and interprovincial migration, intermarriage, and urbanization continue to reduce the importance of native tongue as the focus of identity among Christian

most

likely to

Filipinos.

When

religious differences reinforce linguistic boundaries, however,

cleavage remains sharp. Tribal groups, each with

its

own

linguistic

and

animistic tradition, account for at least 2 percent of the country’s

Nobleza Asuncion-Lande, “Multilingualism, Politics and Tilipinism,’” Asian Survey 11 (July 1971), 677-92. A. Averch, F. H. Denton, and J. E. Koehler, A Crisis of Ambiguity: Political and Economic Development in the Philippines (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, R-473-AID, January 1970), p. 103. 4 See

28

Filipino Politics

Luzon and Mindanao, these tribes are numerically small and have a subsistence economy; thus their common failure to identify with the F'ilipino nation posed no signihcant political problem until the 1970s. Then the rapid expansion of major public works projects, such as dams, threatened some tribal groups, especially the T’boli in Mindanao and the Bontoc and Kalinga in the mountains of northern Luzon with community extinction. Tribes united to oppose so grave a threat, and planned dams in the territories of the three tribes mentioned were halted or postponed. But confrontation with government did not produce separatist tendencies population.^ Scattered in the mountains of

within the three communities. Christian Filipino elements, especially

emerged as important allies, and so did the New People’s Army. Thus links with those- outside the cultural community were

the church,

experience shows that the stalwart opposition of only 90,000 Kalingas, or much smaller numbers of T’boli or greater numbers of Bontoc, can halt Manila’s ideas of “progress” when a cultural tradition is threatened. These are subcultures which obviously deserve respect. actually strengthened. In

any

case,

The Muslim Subculture

More

serious than the resistance of small tribal groups

is

the refusal

of most of the country’s more than two million Muslims to identify themselves as Filipinos. In 1970 a cross-section of the Muslim popula-

Mindanao and Sulu was asked “What do you consider yourself be?” Only 29 percent said “Filipino,” while 65 percent answered

tion of to

“Muslim.”^

The depth of

the cleavage between Muslims

—speaking

Maranao, Maguindanao, Tausug, and other minor dialects but racially indistinguishable from other natives of the Philippines and Christian Filipinos became clearer with the launching of the Muslim Independence Movement in 1968 and the appearance of the more radical Moro National Liberation Front in the 1970s. Dialect group rivalries among Moros, it should be noted, embarrassed champions of Muslim unity. Some historical background is necessary to understand the intensity

—

^The

2 percent figure is from the 1970 census. The presidential assistant on national minorities (PAN AMIN) in 1977, however, claimed that there were 4.25 million tribal Filipinos, nearly 10 percent of the total population. See Joel Rocamora, “The Political Uses of PANAMIN,” in Southeast Asia Chronicle no. 67 (October 1979), 17. PANAMIN, a

government agency needing

to justify

an expanding budget, was

likely to exaggerate,

underreporting in the census would not be surprising. ^See Filipinas Foundation, Inc., An Anatomy of Philippine Muslim Affairs (Makati, February 1971), pp. 115ff.

but

Rizal,

Political

of identity with the aggressive peoples

Moro when

Culture and Socialization

29

subculture.® Muslims were the most culturally

the Spaniards arrived in the Philippines and

had the most sophisticated

political institutions.

The Sulu

Sultanate,

established in the hfteenth century, was probably the largest political

though the Maguindanao Sultanate in what is now Cotabato rivaled it in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Muslims, indeed, were sufficiently well organized to defeat countless Spanish expeditions against them and it was only American military might in the early twentieth century that hnally produced Moro capitulation. Americans succeeded also because they could persuade Muslims that, unlike Spaniards, they had no intention of Christianizing them. The Americans forced the Sultan of Sulu to abdicate his claims to political authority in 1915, but they permitted him to continue his religious unit,

functions.^

Centralized American administration served to increase the integration of Christian Filipinos, but

Muslim areas were treated

differently,

through the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes. Some high-ranking American officials, among them Governor-General Leonard Wood, did not favor Moro integration. In practice Americans often became a buffer between Muslims and the more modernized Ghristian Filipino and this was the way most Muslims wanted it to be. Despite the American buffer, Christian Filipinos wielded great influence in the government of Muslim provinces. Provincial representatives of all central government departments (such as finance, public works, education) were almost invariably Christian. The greatest friction developed around three agencies: staff at the Bureau of Lands was efficient in issuing land titles to Christians, the Department of Public Instruction attempted to enforce compulsory attendance on reluctant Muslim parents, and the largely Christian Philippine Constabulary often provoked armed clashes with Moros. (As late as 1941 there were only 5 Muslim officers in the PC.) Failure to send children to school,

—

®“Moro” is a term introduced by the Spaniards in the sixteenth century when they confused Mindanao Muslims with the more familiar Moors. Until the late 1960s Muslims seemed to regard this curiously inaccurate term as one of disrespect. But the term has since been reappropriated, in part because no other uniquely describes Muslims in the Philippines.

taken primarily from Peter Cowing, Mosque and Moro: A Churches, Study of Muslims 1964); Thomas Kiefer, Tausug Armed Conflict: The Social Organization ofMilitary Activity in a Philippine Moslem Society, University of Chicago Philippine Studies Program, Research Series no. 7 (Chicago, 1969); Cesar Majul, Muslims in the Philippines (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1973); and Ralph B. Thomas, “Muslim but Filipino: The Integration of Philippine Muslims, 1917-1946” (diss.. University of Pennsylvania, 9

The

following account

is

in the Philippines (Manila; Philippine Federation of Christian

1971).

30

Filipino Politics

where most teachers were

became the exEnrollment of Muslim

Christians, sometimes even

cuse for military action against

Moro

villagers.

children in public schools actually dropped in the late 1920s. Christian judges presided over civil courts, so most Muslims took disputes to un-

and customary law. Many Muslim leaders were thoroughly alienated. In 1926 a bill was introduced into the U.S. Congress to separate Mindanao and Sulu from the rest of the Philippines; though unsuccessful it received widespread support from datus, hadjis (respected figures who had made the pilgrimage to Mecca), and sultans. Manuel Quezon, elected president in 1935, brought a new attitude toward Muslims to Malacanang Palace “no special treatment.” Traditional Muslim law and leaders were ignored, and the appointment of Christians to posts in Moro provinces was accelerated. Quezon, fearing the eventual loss of Mindanao, provided strong government encouragement to the settlement of Christian farmers there. In the three decades before the war nearly 300,000 Christians settled in the provinces of Lanao and Cotabato alone. Two dozen Christians had lived in the fertile Kapatagan Valley of Lanao in 1918; by 1941 there were 8,000, outnumbering the native Maranao. It was little wonder that Muslims felt threatened. World War II had unexpected consequences. The widespread dis-

official Islamic

courts dispensing justice under Sharia

—

tribution of firearms escalated factional violence

among Muslims,

ex-

panding the role of the constabulary. Postwar backpay to anti- Japanese guerrillas had quite an economic impact but an even greater cultural one. The newfound wealth financed pilgrimages to Mecca, new mosques, and the Islamic madrasah schools. An indigenous cultural renaissance thus coincided with the new worldwide dynamism of Islam. Growing numbers of Filipino Muslims went to Egypt for training, and visits to the Philippines by Muslim figures from abroad became more frequent. Egyptians even sent religious teachers to Mindanao. Madrasah schools, which traditionally taught only the Koran, Arabic, and other religious subjects, broadened their curriculum; many have come to provide a modern education in an Islamic setting. Muslim organizations proliferated, and in June 1955 the First National Muslim Filipino Conference, led by Muslim senators and congressmen, was held in Cotabato. The tactic of peaceful petition seemed to produce results in 1957 when the national government created the Commission on National Integration (CNI) to pay increased attention to the economic and educational needs of minority areas, particularly Mindanao and Sulu. President Magsaysay also made some visible ap-

1

Political

Culture and Socialization

3

Muslim superintendent of schools in Sulu. But the expectations raised by the CNI were soon dashed when pointments, one being the the Congress refused to

first

endow

it

with an adequate budget.

1950s Muslim provinces saw some degree of functional political integration primarily as a result of the introduction of mass suffrage and the direct election of municipal, provincial, and Nevertheless in the

late

Muslim community became more than ever linked with extracting benefits from the national politinational officials. Status

and power

in the

National political parties sought the support of the traditional elite, the sultans and datus, which could mobilize a mass following, while that elite established links with patrons in Manila

cal system.

there

is little

evidence that

demands of local

But increased interaction between national and

where national coffers could

satisfy the

followers.

produced a greater national identity among rank-and-file Muslims. Some Muslims representing Mindanao and Sulu in Manila did not realize how isolated many of their followers were from the Filipino body politic. For instance. Senator Domacao Alonto in 1956

local elites

visited by was reported to be “stunned to find that in many places his committee there were still Moros who called themselves Moros, and .

.

.

who know only that their datu is the not Filipinos; [and] Moros government.”^® In fact, national integration created more frictions between Christian and Muslim communities, thus contributing to Moro .

.

.

identity.

Meanwhile the Christian influx continued apace. Between 1948 and 1960 immigrants flocked into southwestern Mindanao and Sulu more than twice as quickly as to any other region of the Philippines except the Manila area. Corrupt politicians, judges, and bureaucrats with the occasional connivance of some datus registered traditionally Muslim lands in the names of Christian Filipinos at an increasing rate. The sense of threat to Moro economic and social life continued to grow, and

—

—

thus Muslims’ identity with the Filipino nation slowly declined over the

1950s and 1960s.

The Chinese Subculture

The Chinese

are the largest immigrant group to have retained a distinct political group consciousness. In 1970 only 110,701 alien Chi-

nese were registered in the Philippines.

The number dropped

to

See Muslim Association of the Philippines, Proceedings of Second Annual Philippine Muslim National Conference, October 11—16, 1956 (Marawi City, 1956), p. 52.

32

Filipino Politics

90,401 in 19754^ If we define as Chinese all who regard themselves as such, however, then estimates of the “Chinese” population of the Philippines range as high as 500,000 or 600,000d‘^ Chinese have assimilated into Filipino society more rapidly than in

Muslim countries of Southeast Asia. Intermarriage has been common; as many as 10 percent of all Filipinos may have Chinese blood, and Chinese mestizos have played important roles in Philippine society, from Jose Rizal, the leading national hero, to Sergio Osmeha, the hrst president of the Republic. But since the end of large-scale immigration the

in

1949, sex ratios

among

the Chinese citizens have reached equi-

librium and intermarriage between Filipinos and Chinese has dropped dramatically.^^

Still,

51 percent of

young ethnic Chinese males and 38

—

percent of females considered interracial marriage that is, with Filipinos “possible” in 1970.^^ Intermarriage, of course, does not in itself produce cultural assimilation. More than one third of the 61,000 students at 160 Chinese schools in 1970 were mestizos who studied in Mandarin, sang the Chinese anthem, and learned Chinese history with

—

a chauvinist slant.

The Kuomintang used

these schools quite consciously to preserve

Chinese identity among Philippine Chinese. With the closing of the Chinese Nationalist Embassy in Manila in 1975, however, Kuomintang control of the Chinese-language curriculum of Chinese-owned schools ended. After April 1976 no Chinesemedium courses other than “language arts” could be legally taught, and all texts had to win government approval. Most teachers are now Filipino. So the culturally distinctive Chinese school system has ofhcially died, and with it the primary mechanism for the preservation of the Chinese political subculture. Also in 1975, a few months before the establishment of diplomatic relations with Beijing, new naturalization procedures were inaugurated. Legal and extralegal costs of as much as P50,000 had restricted Chinese both a cultural and a

political

See David W. Chang, “The Current Status of Chinese Minorities in Southeast Asia,” Asian Survey 13 (June 1973), 592ff., and George Weightman, “Changing Patterns of Internal and External Migration among Philippine Chinese” (paper given at Midwest Conference on Asian Affairs, October 1982, Ann Arbor, Michigan). ^-The lower maximum is from Gerald A. McBeath, “Political Integration of the Philippine Chinese” (diss. University of California, 1970), p. 6. The higher is frc^m Charles ]. McCarthy, S. ]., “The Chinese in the Philippines, Today and Tomorrow,” Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook 1975 (Manila, 1976), pp. 348—50, 360. I'^In 1958, according to the annual Journal of Philippine Statistics, there were 1,691 recorded marriages between Filipinos and Chinese citizens; in 1967, only 235.

McBeath, pp. 19 Iff. Bulletin Today, April 4, 1976, citing a ruling of the Ministry of Education and Culture, implementing Presidential Decree 176, which “Filipinized” alien schools.

Political

naturalizations to fewer than six

Culture and Socialization

33

hundred persons per year between

1954 and 19694^ But Presidential Letter of Instructions 270 (April

1 1,

1975) authorized aliens to hie applications for naturalization with the solicitor general, up to June 30, 1975, for official costs of only P525. The prospect of an inexpensive, nonjudicial process was attractive and the

more

so because in mid- 1976 the Ministry of Justice ruled that

remaining Chinese nationals would be regarded

all

of the People’s Republic of China, and more than 38,000 persons, almost all Chinese, applied. By August 1978 nearly 20,000 applications had been approved. A remnant of pro-Beijing Chinese citizens will probably survive for as citizens

some time, since the orientation is still common among young Chinese. Nor has naturalization proceeded as rapidly as hrst expected. But the two decisive changes in government policy, regarding naturalization and schools, could spell an end to the Chinese political subculture within a generation. Whether the government will encourage the preservation of nonpolitical Chinese traditions and thus make political assimilation easier remains to be seen. (The government operates within a context of continuing Filipino prejudice against the Chinese.)

In any case, Filipino Chinese emigration for those who do not wish to assimilate.

The Chinese

is

speeding up, providing

exit

have always prospered in economic competition with Filipinos, despite policies of economic nationalism directed against them. Legal pressures and economic opportunities now provide powerful incentives to take up both citizenship and a Filipino identity. The likely trends in political identity are thus quite different for the Philippine Chinese and the Moros. in the Philippines

Ninety percent or more of the population identihes with the Filipino nation, but some interesting subcultural variations are still evident within the majority. We shall outline the major dimensions, concentrating on orientations toward the political system, its leaders, and other actors within the system.

Patterns of Trust

and Obligation

One dimension action

is

of political culture with profound consequences for the level of societal trust. High mutal trust among groups and

241; and Estelito Mendoza, “Naturalization through Presidential Decree,” Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook, 1975, pp. 260—63. I'^Weightman, p. 11.

i^McBeath,

p.

34

Filipino Politics

community organization and tends

support stability. Traditional Philippine society enjoyed very extensive mutual trust. Utang na loot, the debt of gratitude, motivated individuals to repay favors at great personal cost in the trustful expectation that others would reciprocate. The heaviest debt outside the family was to those who had given selfless aid in time of crisis such as saving a child from a burning house. They could never be fully repaid. Until 1972 the most common political expression of this value was the casting of a vote for a candidate who, directly or indirectly, had assisted individuals facilitates

to

—

—

oneself or one’s family. Traditionally anyone favor was “without

The network

shame ”

—walang

of obligations

still

hiya,

who

failed to reciprocate a

or shamelessly irresponsible.

operates in most Filipino villages, and

even to some extent in urban areas, but its usefulness in political interchange has declined. Shamelessness is becoming more common in a mobile society. Thus one can distinguish between a traditional rural subculture in which trust is relatively high and a distrustful urban society (especially Manila and its suburbs) where values are expressed by window-bars, private guards, and high crime rates. When extrafamilial trust declines, mutual trust tends to reside primarily in the family. The family has long been at the center of Filipino society.^® As in most parts of Southeast Asia kinship is essentially bilateral; that is, ancestry is traced through both the mother’s and the father’s line. Effective kinship ties are maintained with relatives of both parents. A bilateral system gives a potentially huge number of living kin, especially as hve to ten children are not uncommon even today in each nuclear family of each generation. The only effective limitation on recognized kin is the number of relatives with whom an individual can sustain close interpersonal relations; “kin” is a network of dyadic ties. Either the physical proximity of relatives or the individual’s own mobility is a limiting factor. Individual personality also affects the number of relatives who respond positively to overtures. But in the long run economic capability is perhaps the key element. It facilitates communi-

—almost every Filipino family today has rural and urban branches — and permits affection be reinforced

cation with a far-flung kin

its

it

with

gifts

and other material

to

benefits.

In a traditional society the customs of the family are by definition the dominant social customs. The Philippines is still close enough to the

^^See Remigio Agpalo, The Political Elite and the People: A Study of Politics in Occidental Mindoro (Manila: University of the Philippines, College of Public Administration, 1972), pp. llVff, and Edward Banfield, The Moral Basis of a Backward Society (New York: Macmillan, 1958).

Political

Culture and Socialization

traditional era for family customs to have a pervasive influence society as a whole. Familial interaction extends

35

on

beyond the bonds of

blood and marriage, for example, through the compadre system, a type of “Active kinship.” Sponsors at weddings and baptisms, usually chosen for their financial capacity to be generous, become, in effect, aunts and uncles to their godchildren and older brothers and sisters to the parents. Politicians often seek out opportunities for such sponsorship in order to expand their Active kin. The regular practice of reciprocity between two persons of different socioeconomic status, the patron-client relationship, is modeled on the relation between father and son.^^ Based also on mutual trust, it is less secure than the relationship reinforced by close blood ties or a weighty utang na loot. In traditional Philippine society patrons, or padrinos, provided a wide range of services to their clients, all under the headings “protection” and “material welfare.” (There was often an element of exploitation, as well as mutual benefit in the relationship, however.) Clients in turn expressed their loyalty to their patrons in political support and personal service. As the patron provided all the services the client might need, the client only needed one patron. The relationship usually lasted a lifetime.

Though

declining, this pattern

still

seems to be dominant in a majority of rural towns and villages. So highly valued is the fulfillment of obligations, whether to family, friend, patron, or client, that it often produces in government officials a type of behavior that may be called corruption. Preferred treatment in hiring, letting of contracts, and issuance of licenses are reserved for favored individuals regardless of formal policy or legal restrictions. “Public trust” takes second place to the fulfillment of obligation to particular individuals.

Nationalism has not created a sense of community strong enough to foster mutual trust between persons without dyadic ties. In fact, the overriding importance of interpersonal linkages hinders the emergence of any group loyalties on which cohesive political parties or policy-oriented activities might be based. Groups do emerge when awareness of common interest is strong, but outside the most westernized sectors of society a particular organization usually survives only because a strong leader has a wide network of clients. In-

—

—

See James Scott, “Patron-Client Politics and Political Change in Southeast Asia,” American Political Science Review 66 (March 1972), 91—1 13. 20 For instance, even in Nueva Ecija, one of the provinces most affected by postwar social change, 35 percent of share tenants supported their landlord’s candidate in 1971, according to data compiled for Mahar Mangahas, Virginia Miralao, and Romana de los Reyes, Tenants, Lessees, Owners (Quezon City: I.P.C., Ateneo de Manila University, 1976).

36

Filipino Politics

deed, such networks are often important even in groups that stress loyalty based on ideology.

Pragmatic and Ideological Orientations Obligations traditionally undertaken toward immediate family

mem-

bers or as a result of utang na loot often go beyond a rational calculation

of self-interest, but this is seldom true of dyadic ties with extended family, bctive kin, or in the patron-client relationship. Philippine political culture is, for the most part, very pragmatic. Benehts are carefully assessed, usually on a short-term basis, producing the bargaining that Jean Grossholtz found central to Philippine politics.^ Such calculations lead to support for the wealthy and powerful, who are most likely to be able to repay a favor generously. Party switching in the direction of the incumbent, widespread in Philippine politics, also derives from this value. In addition, pragmatism leads to caution and the avoidance of great risk, thus constraining resistance to strong government, even if unpopular. The reverse of a pragmatic political culture is an ideological one. The importation of an educational system from the United States helped forestall commitment to ideology in the Philippines, and a network of interpersonal obligations also acts as a barrier to ideological commitments that might disrupt it. Nevertheless, in recent years, both in Christian circles and on the Marxist Left, ideological involvement has grown among urban youth an important new subculture. As the bargaining system fails to bring beneht to those individuals who have little to bring to a bargain, so bargaining will cease to be pragmatic and ideology may spread. The distinction between the ideological and the pragmatic is blurred, however, when the political system damages individual lives so badly that participation in organized dissent becomes simple self-defense. Moreover, a revolutionary leader may provide some of the services of a traditional patron to gain loyalty and support in an ideologically dehned cause, as has happened in millennarian movements in the past or in the New Peoples Army more recently. Discontent with a malfunctioning political system can lead to cynicism rather than to ideological critique, however. As more people observed politicians in the 1950s and 1960s taking more from the bargaining process for personal gain than they gave in public benehts, so distrust of politicians as a category spread. Many idealistic youth ^

—

Grossholtz,

Politics in the Philippines

(Boston:

Little,

Brown,

1964).

Political

Culture and Socialization

37

turned from reformist slogans (their fulfillment seemed hopeless) to revolutionary ones in the 1960s. Many more citizens were so disgusted by endemic corruption that they became alienated from the political process in general. Those who had interests to protect could not withdraw, of course, but they participated with all the ardor of a society matron picking up garbage. Those in urban areas who could affford to withdraw from political participation did so, counterbalancing the more general impact of modernization. This general discontent not only reduced legitimacy for any regime in power, it posed difficulties in recapturing public support for even a high-minded successor.

Legitimacy

A

cynicism sufficient to breed avoidance of the political process was the very opposite of what stable government needs legitimacy. Legit-

—

imacy may be derived from traditional myth, the charisma of leadership, cultural identity, contemporary values and ideology including the formal procedures that embody them or it can be induced by persistently effective government performance. This last is the most difficult to sustain, yet after 1972 it became more important than ever as a prop of the regime of Ferdinand Marcos. Because the Philippines lacks a prewestern monarchical tradition, unlike other countries of Southeast Asia, historical myths and symbols have seldom been used to justify the state. Charisma also has probably played a smaller role in legitimizing Philippine political institutions than it has in most countries in Southeast Asia, but in 1954 it was undoubtedly a major factor. No one with the powerful charismatic appeal of Magsaysay had been elected president before, and his charisma shed legitimacy on Philippine institutions throughout the 1950s. Before 1972 the major argument for legitimacy was that of constitutional democracy: the Constitution of 1935 had been freely adopted by the Filipino people in convention assembled, had been ratihed in an open, popular referendum, and its procedures had generally been followed. Within the constitutional framework popular elections periodically reinforced the legitimacy of the regime. Their real importance to regime legitimacy can be seen in reactions to the major departures from free electoral competition. In 1949 the margin of President Quirino’s victory was apparently based on fraud. Spreading cynicism bolsterd the Huk cause, even outside Central Luzon, and only a rash of volunteer agencies that helped Magsaysay to police the election in 1951 restored probity at the ballot box and thus renewed faith in the regime. In 1967 and 1969 the increasingly crass manipulation of elections

—

—

38

Filipino Politics

produced a sharp jump

in

nonvoting by urban

literate voters

with high-

There is no reason to believe, however, most such persons, though disillusioned with existing election

school educations or better. that

practices, did not regard clean elections as legitimizing. Finally,

unpre-

cendented vote buying by the incumbent and a dangerous rise in violence in 1969 provoked massive student demonstrations in Manila which had profound political consequences. Legitimacy is a moral bond between citizens and the state which obliges citizens to obey the state’s laws.^^ Most Filipinos are personally cognizant of the state and its institutions and can bestow legitimacy directly upon them. For those in parochial subcultures, however, legitimacy is an indirect moral bond; local leadership is the crucial link between the mass and the national elite. For the nonparochial majority the patron-client relationship is also important, and legitimacy personalized through patronage was clearly an important strategy for President Marcos, even after 1972. Though primarily concerned with satisfying clients, patrons often try to enhance their own legitimacy through the stamp of approval of an even more prominent and legitimate patron. Philippine presidents have long sought to gain the endorsement, explicit or implicit, of the most powerful and respected hgures of world politics. Every Filipino president seeking reelection has gone to Washington at least once; Marcos went twice. Some made well-publicized trips to the Vatican.

pope

to visit the Philippines in

The

president’s invitation to the

1970 and

in

1982 epitomized

this

process. It

has sometimes been suggested that for poorer Filipinos

justihes

itself,

that those

who

wield

power

power

effectively, the malakas,

or

strong, are regarded as legitimate by their followers for this fact alone.

The

perception may be a corollary of legitimacy through patronage, because a patron without power is certainly of no beneht to his clients. The idea helps explain the persistence of support for Marcos, particularly among the uneducated, long after corruption and repression

had undermined those

who

his legitimacy

did not rely

upon

among more

sophisticated citizens,

his patronage.

Ideology, only recently emergent in Filipino political culture, usually

government but opposition. Yet a rather unsystemized ideology, the cult of nationalism, has become increasingly salient to

legitimizes not

22Hirofumi Ando, “Elections in the Philippines: Mass-Elite Interaction through the Electoral Process, 1946—69” (diss.. University of Michigan, 1971), p. 47. 23 On the moral bond see Peter A. Busch, Legitimacy and Ethnicity (Lexington, Mass.: Heath, 1974), chap.

1.

Political

Culture and Socialization

39

The defense

of national autonomy has become the rallying cry of more and more groups until even government, under President Marcos, adopted some would say “coopted” it. The espousal of nationalism, no matter what the content of policy, became a legitimizing tactic of the Marcos regime. Indeed, by the late 1960s nationalism had become the commitment most likely to unify a wide spectrum of opinion. Nationalism still plays a lesser role in the legitimation of rulers in the Philippines than it does in most other parts of Southeast Asia, but that is changing. Legitimacy clearly ebbs and flows over time. But it differs as well between regions, classes, and religious groups. Legitimacy is not bestowed equally by all segments of society any more than all benefit both.

—

equally

—

from government

From Parochial

to

policies.

Participant

Perhaps the most widely discussed dimension of political culture is orientation toward inputs into government decision making and toward outputs, or policies. Such orientations may range from the “parochial,” meaning almost total lack of knowledge about and complete disinterest in political input or output, through “subject,” meaning an awareness of outputs and their effects but an acceptance of a rather passive role, to the “participant,” involving awareness of decisional processes as well as output and a belief that the citizen has a right to participate.

The

parochial subculture

is

much

smaller in the Philippines than in

most developing polities. Illiteracy is less than 30 percent of the schoolage and adult population, and even many illiterates have a considerable political awareness. In a national survey 64 percent of Filipinos believed that the activities of the national government influenced their day-today life. A few years earlier only 35 percent of Mexicans and 54 percent of Italians held the same belief.^^ Nevertheless, anywhere from 20 to 25 percent of the adults

—almost

ochial political orientation.

all

About one

—

still

have a par-

in three of Filipinos

aged 2 1 and

in rural areas

over were not registered to vote in 1969. Some modern cynics as well as peasant parochials were undoubtedly included. In any case, the largest portion of the population should be classified

24 See Gabriel

Almond and

G.

Bingham

Powell, Comparative Politics:

Approach (Boston: Little, Brown, 1966), p. 53. 25Averch, Denton, and Koehler, p. 47.

A

Developmental

40

Filipino Politics

True, a substantially higher percentage of Filipino registered voters turned out on election day than did their counterparts in the United States. In the two decades before martial law an average of 81 percent of those registered actually voted. Involvement in election campaigns also seemed high. For instance, in 1963 more than 65 percent of Filipinos queried said that they attended political rallies. Clearly the Philippines, for a society not yet fully modernized, was highly politicized. The keen attention that Filipinos paid to elections before martial law was colorfully described in a Philippines Free Press editorial: “Today hundreds of thousands, nay millions all over the islands seem to have no thought for anything else than politics. They as subject.

dream, eat, etc., politics. One would think politics is the most important thing in the world. But what did the act of registering, of being a candidate’s henchman, talk,

of voting, or of attending a political rally really mean? Was not the whole electoral process a spectator sport? The assemblage of movie

an election rally was undoubtedly for many spectators a greater attraction than the political oratory, and the martial law regime continued to provide such “circuses.” In fact, however, most Filipino voters went to the polls because they felt it was a “duty.” But to whom? The evidence of a higher turnout in rural than in urban areas, and in local rather than national elections, pointed to the importance of the patron-client relationship in voting. In the late 1950s a plurality of village voters in Iloilo said that people voted because they expected assistance from the winning candidate, either to their village or barrio or personally. Yet the level of political information that accompanied the act of voting was also quite high. Seventy seven percent of Filipino men knew the name of their congressmen in the 1950s, while nearly half could give the number of senators as provided for in the constitustars

and pop singers

at

tion.

We

cannot say with conhdence exactly what proportion of voters felt they were, and should be, participating in a national process. A considered estimate would be less than one in three. Still, the minority was sizable enough to pose serious problems for a regime that attempted drastically to curtail real participation.

October 1949, quoted in Grossholtz, p. 161. See Tito Firmalino, Political Activities of Barrio Citizens in Iloilo as They Affect Community Development, University of the Philippines Community Development Research Council, Study Series no. 4 (Quezon City, 1960), p. 43. ^^See Carl Lande, “Political Attitudes and Behavior in the Philippines,” Philippine Journal of Public Administration, 3 (July 1959), 341—65.

Political

From Sacral

to

Culture and Socialization

41

Secular

Movement from

parochial to subject to participant

the modernization of the political culture.

Some

is

associated with

scholars claim that

modernization also involves a movement from sacral to secular. A sacral political culture does not have to be linked to formal religion, though the Muslim subculture clearly is. But sacral necessarily connotes a heavy reliance on magico-religious beliefs to explain behavior or to justify authority; secular, in contrast, refers to a dominantly rationalscientihc belief system. No society is thoroughly modern along this dimension, and few today are entirely traditional. Many Filipinos even outside Muslim and other non-Christian areas view political life in varying degrees through the sacral prism. The widespread peasant belief in the spirit world, a legacy of animism, includes the assumption that some people have luck, suerte, and thus are powerful and wealthy, while others do not. Luck is understood to be supernaturally determined. Such a sacral belief is obviously an important barrier to class consciousness. Prewar peasant movements, such as Sakdals and Colorums, had messianic overtones. In the 1960s messianic movements again expanded, many of them elevating Jose Rizal to the status of deity. This combination of nationalism and religious fanaticism makes great demands on the faithful and claims hundreds of thousands of adherents, the largest sect being the Watawat ng Lahi.^^ In 1967 one such sect, led by an old man who had seen a vision, marched into Manila with bolos to “purify” the government. In the 1970s Rizalian sects became active in Mindanao and were sometimes exploited by the Marcos regime for political

purposes.

Another important dimension of

sacral political culture

is

the influ-

ence of the pasyon. An epic poem in the vernacular originating as early as the eighteenth century, the pasyon incorporated the life of Christ and other biblical excerpts into a literary form that was, and still is, recited in family gatherings or performed as a passion play. But in its nuance and emphases it also provided the Christian Filipino peasant with “a language for articulating [his] own values, ideals, and even hopes of liberation.”^® In fact, several historical revolts as well as recent unrest

have been within the precise framework of hope for liberation found in the pasyon. Thus it is clear that even sacral images may stimulate Sturtevant, Agrarian Unrest in the Philippines, Ohio University Center for International Studies, Papers in International Studies, SE Asia Series no. 8 (Athens,

David

R.-

1969), pp. 18ff.

Pasyon and Revolution: Popular Movements in 1840—1910 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1980).

See Reynaldo C.

Ileto,

the Philippines,

42

Filipino Politics

Many who saw Benigno

Aquino’s martyrdom as Christlike -just as Jose Rizal’s death had been widely viewed, eightyhve years earlier nevertheless participated in rationally organized

modernizing

—

actions.

—

political protest against the perpetrators

Those whose

of the deed.

thoroughly sacral pattern are, of course, now in a minority. The calculating pragmatism that led to “pork barrel” and vote buying is still dominant even among the peasantry; though perhaps not “scientific,” it is certainly rational and thus secular. Still, the sacral dimension of Filipino political beliefs may be important in understanding otherwise inexplicable behavior. The sacral mode of thinking survives in the minds of many whose language and life-style otherwise exhibit “modernity.” Scholars of modernization would contend that the coexistence of two seemingly incompatible value systems in a single personality is unstable and cannot last. But only time can tell whether the sacral and secular are genuinely incompatible. They have already coexisted in some Filipino families for three or more generations. The mixture seems now to be shifting, or perhaps a new synthesis is being generated, as some observers claim is happening in Japan. The widespread belief in divine intervention to overthrow Marcos, even among westernized intellectuals, may indicate the character of the Filipino synthesis. beliefs ht a

The Democratic-Authorization Axis Bountiful evidence exists for the proposition that democratic values are strongly ensconced in the Philippines. In a 1970 survey of Manila voters

more than 90 percent expressed

a desire to see retained without

modification in the Philippine Constitution (on the eve of

its

rewriting)

of rights” provisions for due process, liberty of abode, protection against unreasonable searches, privacy of communication, freedom of association, religious freedom, and freedom of the press and of speech. Less than 1 percent opted for eliminating these provisions.^ A vast majority over 88 percent also adhered to the traditional Western definition of democracy by favoring a two- or multiparty system; only 2 percent preferred the single party. Such norms are the standard fare of the civics text, the political oration, the legislative preamble, and the judicial dictum a strong “bill

^

—

—

—

Gloria Feliciano, Benjamin Lozare, and Ma. Theresa Manahan, Opinions on

the

Philippine Constitution of Voting Residents in the Greater Manila Area (Quezon City; University of the Philippines, Institute of Mass Communication, September 1970).

Political

commitment

Culture and Socialization

43

and processes of democracy. Yet one eminent Filipino political scientist warns us that such sources do not paint a true picture of Filipino political culture. q. D. Corpuz contends that Filipino political culture “has a superstructure of attitudes and values of Western origin, resting on a dehnitely indigenous infra-structure.” From the West, he points out, comes individualism and a high respect for achievement and for the rule of law whereas indigenous values stress primary-group (i.e., family) loyalty and a particularistic view of to the goals

public affairs.

Corpuz discerns among

Filipinos a basic uncertainty about

democ-

This uncertainty is undoubtedly widespread. It is not, however, simply the result of inability to integrate an external-internal dichotomy. The traditional practices of the Philippines contain more of essential democracy than Corpuz admits. The consultative decision making of the ancient barangay, the pragmatic bargaining of interpersonal relationships, and the ability to acquire political status through achievement are traditional traits that provide underpinning for modern democracy.^^ On the other hand, the apostles of modern economic development in the Philippines, the Westernized technocrats, have sometimes professed to see a need to sidetrack democratic procedures in order to achieve national goals. Democratic values and their opposites have both foreign and indigenous seeds. Yet the significance of indigenous tendencies toward authoritarianism have also been underestimated. Child rearing in the racy.

and others in positions must be respected and followed, not chal-

Philippines teaches very forcefully that elders,

of power and authority, lenged a potent psychological legacy for the adult. Furthermore, the sacral characteristics of the political culture, particularly the belief in supernaturally determined luck, are hardly consistent with the basic idea that power is conferred by a corporate decision of the citizenry. Marcos clearly exploited such sacral values in his plans to sustain the post- 1972 regime. He talked often of his lucky numbers, building them into presidential decrees and the dates of special announcements. Marcos himself is thus a “modern man” who has integrated sacral values into a personal belief system that has fostered success in both democratic and authoritarian modes.

—

32 0. D.

Corpuz, “The Cultural Foundations of Filipino Politics,” in Jose V. Abueva and Raul de Guzman, Foundations and Dynamics of Filipino Government and Politics (Manila;

Bookmark,

1969), pp. 15—17.

33 See, for instance,

Emerenciana

Abueva and de Guzman,

pp. 38-42.

Y.

Arcellana, “Indigenous Political Institutions,” in

44

Filipino Politics

Education as Political Socialization

The

values

and

attitudes that

made up

the Philippine political culture

through political socialization. the importance of the family as a re-

were transmitted

to present generations

We

have already referred to pository of cultural norms of political relevance. The schools, the media, and religious institutions have also had a major role in handing on accumulated political wisdom. The Philippine educational system is centrally supervised by the Department of Education and Culture. There was no formal provision for either local funding or control until

1969, and the locality

is

still

insignihcant in such matters. Elementary enrollment in 1970 was over 7

had increased by about 75 percent in a decade when populaOnly 5 percent of elementary tion had grown by less than 40 percent. enrollment was in private schools. Secondary enrollment nearly 2 million in 1970 was, on the other hand, 56 percent in private institutions. Enrollment nearly trebled during the 1960s. The Bureau of million;

it

—

—

Private Schools loosely supervised privately

owned

institutions, mostly

operated for proht, but provided no subsidy. At the postsecondary level 92 percent of the 650,000 students in 1970 were in private colleges and universities. Enrollment grew by more than 140 percent during the 1960s. In 1965 the Philippines already had a ratio of postsecondary students to population higher than Japan or Australia, according to official statistics, and in lower grades a ratio comparable to that in Sweden. The Department of Education was claiming in 1965 that virtually all children aged seven to twelve were enrolled and that 35 percent of those between 13 and 16 were in school, though these hgures were suspect. Nevertheless, it is certainly true that among dominantly rural Asian countries, the Philippine record on education is very good indeed. Education took between 30 and 39 percent of the national budget in the 1950s and 1960s. The colonial American school system, as noted above, deliberately inculcated both a sense of national identity and a respect for democratic values and practices. In 1957 the National Board of Education reemphasized this tradition in the formulation of hve objectives for the nation’s schools, the second of which was “to develop an enlightened, patriotic, useful and upright citizenry in a democratic society.”^® The See Patricia Snyder, “Education and the Process of Socio-Cultural Change in a Visayan Filipino Town: A Study of Conflict in the Siaton School,” (diss., Syracuse Univer1971), pp. 75ff. ^^See Presidential

sity,

Development:

^^Quoted

New

Commission

Patterns,

New

in ibid., p. 57.

to

Survey Philippine Education, Education for National

Directions (Manila, 1970), p. 224.

Political

Culture and Socialization

45

curriculum thus stressed constitutionalism, the inviolability of the electoral process, and honesty in government. The evidence of verbal support for civil liberties, a two-party system, and other democratic concepts indicates that students learned their lessons at least by rote, for that is how they were usually taught. Carl Lande points out that such values were often translated into behavior as well.^^ Numerous press attacks on corruption satished the readership’s belief, at least at one level of consciousness, that such behavior ought to be exposed and condemned. These attacks were also consistent with ancient Filipino concepts of purity and sincerety, reinforced by the pasyon. Example, however, is likely to be much more powerful than textbook. And the Filipino school is not a democracy: respect for age and authority determines relationships between principal and teacher as well as between teacher and pupil. Classroom discussions are very rare, and pupils are rewarded more consistently for being polite and respectful than for intellectual growth. In a group of equals, however, whether teachers or pupils, free debate, shared decision making, equal opportunity, and cooperation are the norms. The power of the educational peer group is also important in the Philippines, though not intended by educational policy. Students do not leave the family in any numbers until they reach college or university, but by the 1960s nearly a third of a million teenagers and young adults lived in the Manila area, having come a considerable distance to attend college. Many lived in dorms and boarding houses, interacting The crescendo of nationalist almost exclusively with fellow students. student activism in the late 1960 indicates that a student subculture had

—

grown

The

up, increasingly isolated

from contact with family

elders.

important in the consequences of the educational system. From the beginning of the American regime English was the language of instruction in Philippine schools. Though, as already suggested, English facilitated nationwide communication among the educated, the impracticality of using a foreign language for primary instruction became increasingly evident. Learning to read in a foreign tongue became a rote process with little comprehension, seriously hampering the child’s grasp of other subjects. Research in the 1950s showed that the attempt to force expression at an early age into an alien mold could permanently handicap a child’s ability to con-

^'^Carl

role of language

is

also

Lande, “The Philippines,”

in

James

S.

Coleman,

ed.. Education

and

Political

Development (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965), p. 330. Snyder, pp. 164ff. 39 See John A. Lepper, “Philippine Student Politics: With Special Emphasis on the University of the Philippines” (diss., Georgetown University, 1971), pp. I76ff.

46

Filipino Politics

and innovate. encouraged ritualism that

ceptualize

Thus

the educational process

may have

so often characterizes Filipino political style.

use of English, in fact, made the hrst four years of school largely useless. So much time was spent on mastering a foreign language that other subjects were not taught effectively, yet functional literacy in English requires more than four years. In 1957 a basic change in policy

The

was made, mandating the use of the local vernacular for instruction in the hrst two grades. The policy was not binding on private schools, however, and almost all of them continued to teach entirely in English, reflecting parental demand. Study in the early 1960s revealed that the 1957 change in policy had caused a steady decline in English competence, which remained the sole language of instruction in intermediate and secondary schools, and a'decline in achievement test scores whatever the language.^ Some insisted on strengthening English, but in 1970 the Presidential Commission to Survey Philippine Education recommended a more nationalistic solution: English would be abandoned entirely for elementary instruction, replaced in the third grade with Pilipino, and both Pilipino and English would be used in high school. The recommendations have yet to be fully implemented. In the meantime English declines, Tagalog advances, and the gap in English competence between gradudates of public and of elite private high schools continues to widen. Without an effective command of English no Filipino can enter the upper middle class the net effect of educational practice has-been to sharpen class differences. Both literacy and fluency in Tagalog have grown throughout the country, however, and in the longer run the wider adoption in the schools of an indigenous national language will probably contribute to more comprehen^

—

sive national political integration.

In sum, the educational system has a mixed record as an agent of political socialization. Some values taught perpetual subservience to authority, others provided support for democratic processes. Language policy

had the unintended short-term consequence of widening the

elite-mass gap.

And

the concentration of tertiary education in the

Manila area has a nationalizing impact of the utmost importance. Education has expanded rapidly in the last generation, reducing the size of the parochial subculture, increasing that of the participant, and

weakening the

sacral orientation

—a pattern found

in

many

countries.

^oSee Clifford Prator, Language Teaching in the Philippines (Manila: U.S. Educational Foundation, 1950). See Antonio Isidro, Trends and Issues in Philippine Education (Quezon City: Alemars, 1968), pp. 205ff.

Political

The Mass Media and

Culture and Socialization

47

Political Socialization

Despite mass literacy greater than in

many Third World

Countries,

below the world average in every media measure expect cinema seats per person. In 1966, 44 percent of households (mostly rural, of course) had no regular media exposure of any kind, Radio while over half of Manila households have televisions. ownership is widespread and has increased rapidly, so that probably a majority of all families now have at least a transistor. The concentration of TV sets in Manila ten times the national average is not surprising, for nearly half the country’s stations are in the metropolis, and all media are concentrated there. In 1968 seven of nine daily newspapers (not counting Chinese) were published in Manila (only one was in Tagalog). Nearly 100 provincial papers were publishing in the late 1960s, but most were weeklies with circulations of less than 3,000. Thus 67 percent of all dailies and weeklies were distributed from the center. Only the largest daily, the Manila Times, had any substantial sales network in the provinces. In the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) only Indonesia had a lower per the Philippines

falls

far

—

newspaper circulation.^^ Radio and cinema were more

—

capita

truly national in terms of geographical

80 percent of 208 AM broadcasting stations in 1968 were outside Manila, and most stations broadcast at least part of the time in the local language. Movies, on the other hand, are limited to Tagalog and English. Nearly one thousand movie houses were scattered over more than 270 towns and cities. The dominantly metropolitan location of media inevitably meant that the message was modern and influenced by foreign information and tastes. By raising information levels the media, like the schools, helped expand the participant orientation. Political information and interpretation came primarily from English-language dailies and weeklies, which before 1972, whatever their faults, were not tools of the government. Radio, television, cinema, and vernacular weeklies, on the other hand, were primarily instruments of entertainment and escape. Nevertheless, radio news was important in the provinces where newspapers were in short supply, and it was sometimes even less inhibited than the print media. But if a third of all households had no media exposure, how could distribution. Nearly

Carlos Arnaldo, “Mass Media: Prospects for Development,” in John Carroll et al., Philippines Institutions (Manila: Solidaridad, 1970), p. 107, quoting Media Research Foundation of the Philippines Survey. Ibid., pp. 109—10. See also UNESCO, Statistical Yearbook, 1977, Table 12.1.

48

Filipino Politics

one speak of a truly national impact? Outside urban areas the typical In the news item would reach only 5 percent of the population. barrios it was persons, not impersonal media, who were the prime disseminators of news and information. In every barrio the elite 5 percent read or listened directly to the serious media, and residents heard of trends and events through the school teachers, the small merchants, and especially the barrio captain who made up that elite. They filtered out many messages that were too much at variance with their values and attitudes, and thus the urban-based media was not as disruptive of rural values as might have been expected. Nevertheless, the net political impact of the media in the late 1960s was probably, on balance, to reduce the legitimacy of the system and particularly of the Marcos regime. Media owners were wealthy and often quite partisan. They seemed to be committed to democratic processes and provided their readers and listeners with the information needed to make democracy work. But in the hostility that some of them felt for Marcos they were vigorous in exposing that seamy underside of politics which, to one degree or another, is found in every country. The media thus contributed to a rise in opposition militancy, especially in the urban areas. Competition among the media giants also helped preserve a legitimate forum for dissident views and to that extent kept dissent in nonviolent channels. Movies were censored, to be sure, occasionally for political reasons, and in the 1950s the armed forces once pressed for the dismissal of an objectionable radio announcer. But the media resisted pressures and retained their freedom; one consequence was that considerable opportunity survived to air some very unorthodox messages. Certain mass-circulation papers published stinging and even fundamental criticism of politics and politicians, while dozens political

of smaller weeklies and monthlies had reformist or revolutionary stances in the 1960s. In this sense the media contributed to the growth of an ideological subculture. But hundreds of hours devoted to soap operas, variety shows, and “Westerns” and tons of newsprint purveying gossip about movie stars provide evidence of a mass desire for escapism an escapism promoted by those wanting to preserve the status quo. In fact, regardless of contradictory tendencies, this seems to have been the media’s major function. Yet even escapism was pervaded by a life-style either American or a Filipino approximation thereof that created consumer wants

—

—

John De Young and Chester Hunt, “Communication Channels and Functional Literacy in the Philippine Barrio,” /owrna/ of Asian Studies 22

(November

1962), 67—77.

Political

Culture and Socialization

49

and raised occupational aspirations.^^ To the extent that consumption and upward mobility could not be realized in the Philippines, such media messages either fostered the desire to emigrate or created disaffection with the system.

Churches and Political Socialization Institutions of religion, as well as those of education

and communica-

important agents of political socialization. We have already mentioned the historical role of the Catholic church in the Philippines and the centrality of the Islamic school for the Moro subculture. During the 1950s and the early 1960s the church seemed to enter politics only to protect or expand its institutional interests, not to change or tions, are

preserve politically signihcant values. By the late 1960s, however the government’s intention to promote family planning stimulated Philippine Catholicism to strengthen the commitment of the faithful to the Catholic hierarchy’s views on the subject. The priest’s authority with his communicants was put to the test. At about the same time a dissident minority within the church began to use clerical influence for a very different purpose. The Christian socialists

among

—who ranged in orientation from revolutionary— began a massive campaign of

the clergy

the gentle reformer to “conscientization”

among

their flocks.

tactical

At

first

involving only a small

percentage of younger priests and nuns, both Filipino and foreign, the numbers have slowly expanded. Their effort to awaken the Catholic masses to the socioeconomic realities around them, to analyze these realities in Christian and neo-Marxist terms, and to spur the masses to solve their own problems was the most ambitious effort to transform Filipino political culture since the introduction of an American school system at the turn of the century. The aim of the progressive clergy was to

make

the political culture highly participant and democratic.

Non-Catholic religions in the Philippines, some 17 percent of the population, display the utmost variety. Beyond the Muslims, tribal animists, and the Rizalian sects already mentioned is the Philippine Independent Church, which claims to be the second largest Christian group. It is the legacy of the Catholic schism led by Father Aglipay

during the Philippine Revolution, and Marcos

come from stitute less

is

the

first

president to

ranks (concentrated in the Ilocos region), which conthan 5 percent of the population. Marcos became a Catholic its

^^Renato Constantino, Neo-Colonial Identity and Counter Consciousness (London: Merlin, 1978), p. 221.

50

Filipino Politics

when he married Imelda, but

the Aglipayan hierarchy was very con-

background and thus regarded any regime he headed as highly legitimate. The relatively well-educated, dominantly middle-

scious of his

nearly 3 percent of the population) are more participant, democratic, and secular in their orientations than the aver-

class Protestants (with

age Filipino; church teachings reinforce tendencies derived from socioeconomic background. Protestants are also likely to be split on almost every political issue. In contrast to the fairly stable numbers of Protestants and Aglipayans an indigenous sect, Iglesia ni Kristo, founded in the 1930s by an exProtestant who proclaimed himself an “archangel of God,” grew rapidly in the 1960s and 1970s, building imposing churches in a style sometimes described as “improved Disneyland Gothic.” The sect’s membership may now equal that of all the Protestant churches. Bishop Felix Manalo, the founder, trained a highly disciplined following to vote for the candidate of his choice and thus was able to wield considerable influence at election time. As the founder’s son and successor explained, “It is written in the Divine Scriptures that Christ wished us in His name to think and decide as one.^® Sect members voted out of loyalty to Manalo, however, not primarily because they wanted to participate in the national political process. The Manalos, both father and son,

were strongly anti-Catholic and usually quite close

to President

Marcos. Also fast-growing are the fundamentalist evangelical which usually propagate a proregime message.

sects,

Conclusion

We

have been describing a culture in which politics is very prominent. (For the most part we have marshalled evidence from before 1972, but values and beliefs change slowly, so those described here provided the cultural context for both constitutional and authoritarian regimes.)

The

hierarchy of patron-client networks has long been tied to the political system, inevitably bringing into the political arena a variety of

The

issues.

political culture itself

is

relatively well integrated, at least in

comparison with Malaysia, Burma, and Indonesia. Regional

among

identities

the Christian population continue to decline in importance,

while citizens of Chinese or Chinese mestizo origin increasingly iden-

“One Creed, One Voice, One Vote,” Sunday Times Magazine (Manila), and “Bishop Manalo’s Political Score,” Philippines Free Press, May 20,

'^^Erano Manalo,

August 1961,

9,

p. 4.

1964,

— 1

Political

Culture and Socialization

5

themselves as Filipinos. On the other hand, alienation from the national community has intensihed among Moros and to a lesser extent among some tribal peoples. Perhaps more important is that among tify

Christian Filipinos the cultural as well as the economic gap between

and mass may also be widening. Within the dominant Christian Filipino subculture, modernization has encroached upon some traditional values, for example interpersonal trust. But the theme of calculated pragmatism runs through both tradition and modernity, and in times of crisis even sacral tendencies may reassert their importance. At the same time the uglier side of

elite

modernization has helped breed

urban

The

political

cyncism, especially in the

sector.

very ambivalence that pervaded Filipino political culture invited

the reassuring intervention of a charismatic leader, one

who

could weave together in his or her person the sometimes disparate elements of tradition and modernity. This helps explain the meteoric rise of Corazon Aquino from “simple housewife” to beloved leader in a very few months. Her purity and courage appealed to Filipino cultural values, both sacral and secular. Political values, attitudes,

and

beliefs set the

parameter for legitimate

But we must remember that the actions of institutions or powerful individuals may sometimes disregard these cultural norms. Even solid democratic legitimacy does not in itself protect a regime from overthrow.^^ Political culture may influence great decisions, but it does not determine them. politics.

Contrary

Ten Years

to the implication in Irving Louis Horowitz,

Later,” in

1979), p. 31.

Bogdan Denitch,

“The Norm of

Illegitimacy

ed.. Legitimation of Regimes (Beverly Hills: Sage,

3

The Socioeconomic Setting

range of probable behavior, but within those limits, the powerful forces in the socioeconomic system are a major, if not the primary, determinant of the character of behavior. From values and beliefs we now turn to the period shortly before the declaration of martial law. We are concerned with socioeconomic facts and how they affect politics.^ Yet even “concrete reality” must be understood in cultural perspective. Foreign observers of Philippine society always note that the country’s great contrasts in wealth which are certainly obvious to the poor themselves do not produce as much overt resentment or unrest as outsiders might expect. An explanation Political culture limits the

—

—

must rely on insight into Filipino expectations. By several measures the Philippine economy ranked midway among the hve in the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). For instance, per capita gross national product (GNP) in 1972 was U.S.$215, exceeded only in Singapore and Malaysia. Per capita energy consumption put the Philippines in the same relative position. But industry employed 18 percent of the labor force, more than in any ASEAN country except Singapore; and manufacturing made up a

The Malaysian econPhilippines was more indus-

larger portion of gross domestic product (GDP).^

omy produced more

per capita, but the

trialized.

^Though

the Philippines is statistically more sophisticated than most developing countries, one should not be overly impressed with the accuracy of economic data. For instance, in 1971 the Bureau of Census and Statistics reported that personal savings were minus 4.7 billion pesos; the National Economic Development Authority calculated that they were plus 2.7 billion. See also “Estimates of National Income,” in H. A. Averch, F. H. Denton, and J. E. Koehler, A Crisis of Ambiguity: Political and Economic Development in the Philippines (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, R-473-AID, January 1970). ^World Bank, World Development Report, 1981, Tables 1, 7, 19.

^

The Socioeconomic

Setting

53

Industrial growth has been geographically conhned, however, with

over half of manufacturing jobs located in the Manila area. In fact, Metropolitan Manila, where about 10 percent of the more than 50 million Filipinos live, dominates the Philippines. It consumes, for instance, 90 percent of the electrical energy used throughout the country. Like so many capitals in the Third World, it is a modern enclave in a substantially premodern rural economy. In 1971 the mean urban family income was more than twice that of the rural. Rural life focuses around the production of four main crops: rice, corn, coconut, and sugar. The hrst two are for local consumption, the latter two for export. Rice and corn take up 62 percent of the crop area, coconut and sugar only 26 percent. (In 1970 rice took 3.18 million hectares, corn 2.35 million, coconuts 1.92 million, and sugar 0.38 million.)^ But in the early 1970s production per hectare for rice was the lowest in Asia despite the government’s Green Revolution of 1969—71. Low agricultural production is a root cause of rural poverty in the Philippines.

Although food crops involve more land and people, the two leading export crops were worth more, by value, in 1971. Nearly 75 percent of sugarcane was planted on the islands of Negros and Panay and another 20 percent in the Luzon provinces of Tarlac, Pampanga, and Batangas, not far from Manila. Coconuts are found primarily in Luzon south of Manila, the eastern Visayas, and Mindanao. Most sugar is planted on large haciendas and worked by wage labor. Coconut farms, on the other hand, are about 60 percent owner-operated. Two other export crops, abaca (or hemp) and bananas, together covered less than half the area of sugar but bananas were increasingly signihcant by value. Large landowners, wherever their plantations, live all or part of their time in Manila; they spend most of their income there as well. The spending of wealth is even more centralized in the metropolis than is

making of wealth. In fact, Manila is classic colonial power is to its colonies.^ the

to the rest

of the country as the

^Russell Cheetham and Edward Hawkins, The Philippines: Priorities and Prospects for Development (Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1976), p. 130. See also National Census and Philippines Census of Agriculture, 1971 (Manila, 1976). Statistics

Cheetham and Hawkins, p. “The Philippine Food Problem,” 4

134,

and Mahar Mangahas and Reymunda Rimando,

in Jose

Encarnacion

et

al.,

Philippine Economic Problems in

Perspective (Manila: University of the Philippines, Institute of

and Research', 1976), p. 113. ^See Dov Weintraub, “Development and Modernization

Economic Development

in the Philippines,”

Research Papers in the Social Sciences, ser. no. 90-001 (Beverly Hills, 1973).

Sage

54

Filipino Politics

Economic Concentration

Whatever the geographic distribution of economic activity, both income and accumulated wealth are highly concentrated. The Philippine economy in the 1960s grew at more than 5 percent per annum, but that was slower than in any ASEAN country except Indonesia. Annual population growth in the same period was 3 percent, the highest in Asia, so real per capita income growth was less than 2 percent. Yet that positive hgure is itself misleading. Even the head of the U.S. Agency for International Development, who tended to be upbeat on the Philippine economy, told a congressional hearing in 1967, “in the past ten years, the rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer.”®

The

income of wage laborers, for instance, was slightly less in 1972 than it had been twenty years earlier^ (and this when big corporations were boasting of annual profit rates of 20 percent and 30 percent and perhaps concealing much more).® According to official statistics, real

the top 5 percent of the Filipino population in 1956 received 27 percent of total family income, but by 1971 only 24 percent.® Yet

underreport corporate income, and thus that of corporate owners. The Ranis Report considered such a statistic “implausible,” and noted that annual undistributed corporate income as a percentage of GNP expanded 60 percent between 1961 and 1971.^® Other data reinforce the picture. Between 1956 and 1966 the payrolls of manufacturing firms declined from 32.5 percent to 27.4 percent of value added; profits increased from 67.5 percent to 72.6 percent. Among the poor, where economic status is less easily concealed, conditions clearly deteriorated: even the inadequate official data placed the Philippines next to Malaysia as the country with the greatest income inequality in Southeast Asia.^^ More than half of all official statistics invariably

^Quoted

in

Stephen R. Shalom, The United

colonialism (Philadelphia;

Central

ISHI, 1981),

p.

and

States

the Philippines:

A

Study of Neo-

146.

Bank of the

Philippines, Statistical Bulletin, 25 (December 1973), 384. Ranis et al.. Sharing in Development: A Programme of Employment, Equity and

®See George Growth for the Philippines (Manila: National Economic and Development Authority and International Labor Office, 1974), pp. 230-31. Hereafter the Ranis Report. Agustin Kintanar, et al.. Studies in Philippine Economic-Demographic Relationships, p. 40. Ranis Report, pp. 8—9. ^ ^ Computed from Annual Survey of Manufactures by G. L. Hicks and G. McNicoll, Trade and Growth in the Philippines: An Open Dual Economy (Ithaca; Cornell University Press, 1971), p. 65. Hollis Chenery et

al..

Redistribution with Growth

(London: Oxford University

1974), pp. 8—9. See also Gunnar Myrdal, Asian Drama: (New York: Pantheon, 1968), 3:2185.

An Inquiry

Press,

into the Poverty of Nations

The Socioeconomic

had annual incomes of

Setting

55

than $400 in 1971 (the average family contains nearly seven persons). They were well below what former World Bank president Robert McNamara has called the level of “absolute poverty.” Continuing unemployment reinforced poverty. Official hgures are Filipino families

reassuring:

less

unemployment dropped from

7.1

percent in 1966 to 6.9

percent in 1972. But the International Labor Office calculated “total unemployment” in urban areas at 25 percent (including those seeking full-time employment but only working part-time) and 32 percent in rural areas. Not even real growth in GNP is a cure for unemployment it may go to prohts or land rent that is not reinvested in

—

employment-producing enterprise. Concentration of wealth was even greater than the concentration of income. In 1948, 47.3 percent of farms were operated by tenants and part-owners; by the 1960 census the proportion had risen to 54 percent. Despite feeble land reform efforts in the 1960s more and more small owners fell too deeply into debt and lost their land. Landless laborers have not yet been adequately counted. At the other end of the spectrum nearly a thousand individuals and corporations, less than 0.05 percent of farm operators, in the early 1950s owned more than 1 million acres, about 15 percent of the nation’s farm land at that time.^^ At the pinnacle were fourteen families each holding more than 10,000 acres. The rapid acquisition of huge estates since then, particularly in Mindanao and other frontier areas, is hard to quantify because so many transactions have been illegal and thus unreported. The ownership of business corporations was even more heavily concentrated. Of 1,51 1 corporations with assets of over half a million pesos in the early 1970s, 5 percent of the stockholding families controlled 60.7 percent of the assets; the top 10 percent controlled 77.6 percent. Filipino corporations are now so proud of their size that they support the annual publication of a list of the “Top 1000” corporations by sales. From this list comes the “Top 50 Corporations in Income,”

Ranis Report, pp. 7-8. See Encarnacion et revealing discussion of unemployment statistics.

Arturo Sorongon, A

al.,

p.

138, for a sophisticated

Special Study of Landed Estates (Manila: International tion Administration, 1955), Tables 2 and 4.

and

Coopera-

^^See D. Wurfel, “Elites of Wealth and Elites of Power, the Changing Dynamic: A Philippine Case Study,” Southeast Asian Affairs 1979 (Singapore: ISEAS, 1979), p. 236. i^Thomas Nowak and Kay Snyder, “Economic Concentration and Political Change in the Philippines,” in Benedict Kerkvliet, ed.. Political Change in the Philippines: Studies of Local Politics Preceding Martial Law (Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1974), p. 192. ^^See Business Day’s Top 1000 Corporations (Quezon City: Enterprise, 1971).

56

Filipino Politics

which

in

1970 earned an aggregate of PI. 13 billion, or 78 percent of the total income of the top 1000. These corporations had a greater income than the poorest one fourth of all Filipino families in that year. The very nature of Philippine economic development may be creating inequality. Privately owned business hrms have been increasing in size, and in 1967 the larger the hrm the smaller the proportion of value-added that the workers received. And the greater the proht, the smaller was the workers’ share in it. Nor does state intervention in the economy decrease inequality. The role of the Philippine state was not From large, among the smallest, in fact, in the developing world. 1967 to 1972 public-sector hxed capital formation was only about 2 percent of GDP, compared with 15 to 19 percent for the private sector. Before martial law national government revenue never exceeded 10 percent of the GNP, and local government took only another 2 percent. Even so, the state could have increased equity had the tax structure been devised with that goal in mind. But it was not. Direct taxes on income throughout the 1960s generated less than 30 percent of all tax revenue. Fewer than 1.5 million individuals hied returns, and less than one third of those were actually subject to income tax. More than half of corporate hlers were exempt. As a consequence, taxation fell heavily on the poor. In 1960 families with an annual income of less than F500 paid 23 percent of that income in taxes, mostly indirect, whereas families with incomes between P5,000 and FI 0,000 paid less than 15 percent. Evasion in higher brackets was so widespread as to make any hgures suspect. Inability to collect taxes caused Gunnar Myrdal to categorize the Philippines as a “soft state. That inability was a result of the pervasive corruption in the bureacracy, which was in turn a reflection of the patronage system. Potential taxpayers in the upper brackets found it easy to buy their way out of a heavy assessment, either by bribing the tax collector or by making a “campaign contribution” to his patron, usually in Congress. On the expenditure side, some 40 percent of the national budget in the 1960s went for health, education, and welfare, and another 14 percent to such “economic services” as roads, post offices and agri-

^^Cheetham and Hawkins,

pp. 308, 387ff; Ranis Report, pp. 246ff. Joint Legislative-Executive Tax Commission, A Study of Tax Burden by Income Class in the Philippines (Manila, 1964), p. 89. In 1960 U.S. $1.00 equaled P2; from 1962-69 the official rate

was P3.90

1970 the exchange rate was set P20.00 to $1.00 by the mid-1980s.

to the dollar; in

dollar, but it gradually moved up to 20 Myrdal, Asian Drama, chap. 20.

at

P6.00 to the

The Socioeconomic cultural credits.

No

statistical

study identifies

who

Setting

benefited.

57

But the

frequent intervention of the elite to preempt services designed for the less fortunate, or to make handsome prohts from government contracts, causes one to be no more sanguine about the redistributive effect of government output than about revenue collection.

The Socioeconomic

Elite

Who

were the members of this socioeconomic elite which had concentrated so much wealth and how were they related to the political elite? The most elaborate attempt to identify the latter elite was undertaken in 1970.2^ Among the forty “most influential” persons were twelve businessmen not holding public office. In addition, of those listed among the top forty primarily by virtue of government office at least a half-dozen had been men of great wealth before their political success. Thus for nearly half of the top forty wealth was the primary avenue to power. And according to the distinguished panel involved in this research some men of great wealth had more influence on crucial government decisions than did the nationally elected representatives of the people. In 1970, however, families whose great wealth was invested primarily in land were not among the most politically influential, contrary to the assumption of some scholars. Though this economic elite was inevitably diversihed by the postwar emergence of new industries, its cohesion was largely preserved by a network of kinship linkages. The grandfathers of new industrialists had been mostly large and medium landlords, and some of the great families of the nineteenth century were represented. While one branch of the family may have remained in sugar planting, another might have entered the import-export business, and still another inaugurated a flour mill or an automobile assembly plant. Differences of economic interest were often contained within the holdings of a single family, thus diminishing the chances that they would become the basis for stable political alignments.

Among

Chinese mestizo families there was the same tendency toward diversification. For example, Carlos Palanca operated a drygoods store in Manila at the turn of the century before he established La

became company president, he was running one of the top one hundred corporations in the Philip-

Tondena

Distillery.

PAASCUIIPC

Carlos,

Jr.,

Study of Schools and Influentials 1969—70 (Quezon City; de Manila University, Institute of Philippine Culture, 1970), 4 vols.

2^Perla Makil,

Ateneo

By the time

58

Filipino Politics

He

was at the same time president of Lepanto Consolidated Mines, another of the top one hundred, and Bataan Pulp 8c Paper Mills, as well as Amco Investment Sc Development Co. He and his brothers also had important or controlling interests in banking, oil rehning, sugar milling, cement, tobacco, flour milling, glass, dairying, pines.

and

electronics. 22

The Chinese soon

war controlled approximately 40 percent Import controls of importing and an equal share of the retail trade. with a nationalist bias were imposed in 1950, nearly squeezing the Chinese out by the end of the decade; and in 1957 the Retail Trade Nationalization Act began to be widely enforced as well. These pressures, in addition to the incentives provided to manufacturing in the import-substitution policy of- the 1950s, turned Chinese businessmen into industrialists. Many new Chinese-owned hrms were chartered by politically well-connected Filipinos with no business acumen, but yesterday’s “dummies” often became tomorrow’s entrepreneurs. The plight of the Chinese “pariah entrepreneur” and his techniques for avoiding adversity actually helped stimulate the growth of Filipino after the

entrepreneurship.

economic nationalism against the Chinese tended to accelerate naturalization and to some extent cultural assimilation. But businessmen of Chinese origin, even if they became citizens, still faced discrimination, for which they compensated with money under the table. (The practice was also known to other ethnic communities, of course.) Thus “Chinese” businessmen gained a reputation, only partly justihed, as corrupters of bureaucrats and politicians; and indeed, campaign hnancing was usually the only way they could enter the political process to protect their economic interests. The Chinese in the economic elite depended more on the ruling group than did their Filipino

Filipino competitors.

The

Filipino elite used various

methods

to preserve their interests.

Public office— holding branches of a family frequently helped protect or

channel favors to the family business. In fact, by the late 1960s men of great wealth apparently wielded greater political influence than they had even a decade earlier. And those whose wealth spanned both agriculture and industry were the most influential of all.

22 “Manila

Supplement, 23

Chronicle Business Profile on the Palancas,” Manila Chronicle Magazine

September

6,

1970.

See Frank Golay, The Philippines: Public

Policy

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1961), pp. 318ff.

and National Economic Development

The Socioeconomic

Setting

59

Dependency

We

have characterized wealth in the Philippine economy as “concentrated.” Close linkages with the United States also invite the label “dependent.” Just before martial law some 800 U.S. -controlled hrms in the Philippines had cumulative holdings of about $2 billion, four-hfths of total foreign investment. American-owned corporations had a leading role in the Philippine economy: 43 percent of the sales of the top hfty Philippine corporations were made by hrms with more than 50 percent U.S. equity. In certain industries American dominance was even greater; and unlike before World War II, American hrms were not usually owned by U.S. citizens resident in the Philippines. In 1969, 47 U.S. -based corporations owned the top 50 U.S. -held hrms in the Philippines, and most of the 47 were among the largest 250 corporations in the United States. Thus decision making was based in the United States even more than the crude dollar values of investment indicated.

Philippine dependence on U.S. government aid and trade was also

apparent. During the 1960s the United States provided more than twothirds of all bilateral development loans to the Philippines, though it surrendered that leading role to Japan in the early 1970s. In trade the United States was also the major partner until 1969, when its share slipped below 35 percent and it ceded leadership temporarily to But in the early 1970s the rapidly growing private foreign Japan. debt was still overwhelmingly owed to Americans. These powerful linkages with the United States, whether in trade, investment, or credit, helped to dehne subdivisions within the Filipino

economic

elite.

Some entrepreneurs became

partners or even em-

ployees of American capital, others were heavily indebted and tied by

dependent comprador elite, has been a growing portion of the overall elite of wealth, though we do not know whether their ranks before 1972 were hlled primarily from the old landed families or from the self-made entrepreneurs. At the same time some families of both the old wealth and the new expanded their economic activities into helds that did not require dependence on U.S. corporations, often becoming sharp competitors of the foreign hrms. licensing contracts. This

See Inter-Agency Working Group on Foreign Investments, “Study of Private Foreign Investment in the Philippines,” Part 2, Philippine Progress 6 (3d Quarter, 1972); also Niceto Poblador, Foreign Investment in the Major Non-Financial Corporate Sector of the 1965 (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, School of EconomPhilippines, 1964 24

^

ics,

1971).

Stephen Shalom, “U.S. -Philippine Relations: A Study of Neo-Colonialism” Boston University, 1976), pp. 473-78. 25 (/A Yearbook of International Trade, 1978, 1:889. 25

(diss.,

60

Filipino Politics

This group, which Marxists call the “national bourgeoisie,” helped to fuel the hres of economic nationalism in the 1950s and 1960s. Many families had feet in both camps, meeting the competition. Still, the economic nationalists were more sympathetic with, and sometimes even supportive of, the student and peasant protests of the 1960s than were the more dependent elite. Probably in a minority, the national bourgeoisie needed the mass support more.

Consequences of Population Growth

The

maldistribution of wealth at the beginning of the 1970s was

caused in part by two related, long-term trends that had both reversed direction at the end of the 1950s, contributing to the turmoil of a decade later disappearance of the frontier and decline in urban wages. Both were linked to the rapid rate of population growth after the war, a growth that adversely affected the welfare of urban as well as rural workers. The Philippines had long had an agricultural frontier. In 1951 the Bureau of Lands estimated optimistically, some expert observers believed that 16.4 percent of the total land area was still arable and uncultivated.^® But even by its own reckoning this area was shrinking at a rate that would exhaust it in the 1960s. In such densely populated provinces as Ilocos or Cebu, “going to the frontier” had become a tradition for young men who did not inherit either ownership or usufruct of farm land and for older ones who had fallen on bad times. Movement to the frontier, where new farms tended to be larger than average, had been so rapid that until 1959 cultivated area expanded faster than population, allowing food production even without improvements in productivity to keep pace with population. But in the 1960s the trend was reversed; the harvested area per capita declined by more than 13 percent and the rate of growth in man hours employed in agriculture decreased by 6 percent from 1950—56 to 1960—66. Highdensity provinces were starting to send more of their surplus population to the cities. Metropolitan Manila received a disproportionately large share of these migrants; its population grew annually by 5 percent in the 1960s while other cities grew by only 4 percent. The urban

—

—

—

^^See D. Wurfel, “The pines,” in

Georges

Georgetown

Consequences of Population Growth in the PhilipPopulation and Politics in the Philippines (Washington, D.C.:

Political

Fauriol, ed.,

University, 1979).

‘^®See Director of Lands,

(September 1951),

p.

Annual

Report,

90.

^^Cheetham and Hawkins,

p.

43.

1956 (Manila, 1956), Table

9;

Lands Journal 3

— The Socioeconomic labor force expanded rapidly

jobs

—more

61

rapidly, in fact, than available

—increasing unemployment and decreasing wage

Long-term trends

Setting

rates.

wages of Manila area workers (to some degree reflected in other urban areas) are quite striking. They rose dramatically in the early 1950s, during the first flush of import-substitution industrialization and when the land frontier was still open, then began a steady decline, recovering only briefly from 1966 to 1969 when government encouragement of “miracle rice” kept more young people on the farm. In 1969, immediately following devaluation and other economic “reforms” imposed by the International Monetary Fund (IMF), unemployment rose and wages dropped by 10 percent in two years. Shorter-term fluctuations may have been the consequences of government policy, but the relationship of land to population underlay them. Only full industrial takeoff would reduce unemployment and

underemployment

in the real

in agriculture.

Social classes

We

have already examined the concentration in the Philippines of income and wealth amidst an expanding, but dependent, economy. What of the social system that the economic elite dominates? The Philippines has often been described as a two-class system.^® Frank Lynch found that residents of a Camarines Sur town tended to perceive themselves as “big people” or “little people,” those with a surplus with which they could help others and those who needed help. The patronclient principle and concepts of reciprocity had a profound impact on class structure. Though Lynch observed a middle-income group school teachers, small landowners, and shopkeepers he believed that their position was insecure. The obligation to share prosperity with neighbors and relatives often forced the “middle-class” townsman into debt and thus back among the “little people.” Lynch concluded that middle-class status could become secure only in a larger, urban setting where requests to share the meager surplus could be avoided. Much evidence corroborates Lynch’s analysis.^ ^ The identification of “big”

—

^^The pioneering work

Frank Lynch, Social Class in a Bikol Town, University of Chicago Philippine Studies Program, Research Series no. 1 (Chicago, 1959). But other researchers have reached different conclusions. See Carol Cespedes, “Away from the Land: The Evolution of a Middle Class in a Pangasinan Town” (diss., Claremont Graduate School, 1971), and James Anderson, “Some Aspects of Land and Society in a Pangasinan Community,” Philippine Sociological Review 10 (January-April 1962). See also Robert A. Hackenberg, A Developing City in a Dual Economy: Economic and Demographic Trends in Davao City, Philippines, 1972 (Davao: Davao Action Information Center, December 1973). Professor Hackenburg admits that the wealthiest and poorest is

62

Filipino Politics

and

“little”

people in a small town

is

inadequate, however, for assessing

Philippine society as a whole.

Most useful to analysis is a model of the national pattern of socioeconomic stratihcation.^^ The “upper” stratum is limited to owners of major businesses, landowners with more than two hundred hectares, successful doctors, lawyers, and accountants (who probably have property income also), and top executives in business and government who live in cities.

They would, of course, be

a second degree.

Their

university graduates, often with

life-style involves

foreign vacations,

at least

automobile, and several personal servants, and they constitute

less

one

than

Family incomes in this strapercent of the Philippine population. tum are at least forty to hfty times those of families near the top of the lowest stratum. The wealthier men of the upper class make up the economic elite, and the national political elite is drawn almost entirely 1

from upper and upper-middle

The

“lower” stratum

is

strata.

mostly rural, primarily farm cultivators, hsh-

ermen, and precariously small merchants but also unskilled urban laborers, often illiterate, seldom with more than elementary education or an annual family income of more than U.S.$500. These are the “common too,” the “little people” living in one- or two-room bamboo houses who make up over 75 percent of the population but have only about one-third of total family income. The top and the bottom are easy to identify, but dehnition of the lower-middle and upper-middle strata is more difficult. Let us estimate 15 percent for the lower-middle and about 7 to 9 percent for the upper-middle. A household head in the lower-middle stratum would probably have had some high school whereas the typical upper-middle family man has a college degree, and so does his wife. The uppermiddle family owns an automobile and a refrigerator; either is uncommon in the lower-middle family. (About 250,000 households had pri-

—

—

families

were omitted from

his

sample

studies. ^2 For a

— a problem that

affects

many income

distribution

comprehensive critique of Lynch and others see Mark M. Turner, “Interpretaand Status in the Philippines: A Critical Evaluation,” Cultures et developpement 10, 2 (1978), 265-96. am indebted here to Chester Hunt et al.. Sociology in the Philippine Setting (Quezon City: Phoenix, 1963), and John J. Carroll, S. J., The Filipino Manufacturing Entrepreneur: Agent and Product of Change (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1965), pp. 87ff. Jose Abueva, “Social Backgrounds and Recruitment of Legislators and Administrators,” in Abueva and Raul de Guzman, eds.. Foundations and Dynamics of Filipino Government and Politics (Manila: Bookmark, 1969), p. 273, suggests 0.1 percent. Given the extent to which upper-level incomes are concealed, the hgure should be closer to 1.0 tions of Class

percent.

^^See Ranis Report, pp.

10, 61.

The Socioeconomic vate cars in 1971). In fact, electricity.

many of the

Television ownership

is

latter

Setting

63

group may not even have

primarily a function of proximity to

Manila.

Employment

data help corroborate estimates of the size of the upper-middle stratum, which seems to be growing. Moreover, 8 percent of the labor force has some college education, ranking the Philippines

one of the most “educated” countries in the world today and above most Western European countries. (The hgure does not address the quality of that education.) Nor is this upper-middle stratum primarily bureaucratic, as in

some developing

countries.^®

In sum, upper-middle household heads are professionals, middle- to upper-rank civil servants and business executives, owners of middle-

or landowners with at least hfty hectares cultivated by tenants or laborers. Wives are well-educated and employed a major factor in determining the level of family income. In major urban centers the upper-middle stratum may be overshadowed by the lavish life-style of the upper crust, but in most towns persons of this stratum are the local elite, the “big people.” size businesses,

—

Lower-middle families tend to be headed by skilled mechanics, small businessmen with only a few employees, school teachers, jeepney owner-operators, foremen, clerks, a few particularly prosperous farmer-owners, and small landowners with a few tenants. Numerically, small tradesmen, whose employees are mostly family members and

who own

a bit of land as well, are preponderant.

Many of these

families

but if in villages some count as “big people.” These strata are quite compatible with a dehnition of class based on the notion of “market capacity.”^^ That concept assigns class status on the basis of the individual’s ability to gain economic advantage in the market place. It considers not only property but education and work experience, thus adequately distinguishing the young executive from the agricultural laborer (both are employees who may also both lack capital). Class so dehned is certainly not a clearly bounded, self-conscious social entity. It has both disputed borders and many subdivisions, making it unlikely that class consciousness will emerge except within the conhnes of these subdivisions; the pattern of labor organization conhrms this idea. The identihcation of social classes, at the macro or microlevel, is thus only the identification of potential political categolive in

towns and

cities,

See Bureau of Census and

Statistics, Indicators

of Social Development (Manila, De-

cember

1973), pp. 30, 33. ^"^See A. Giddens, The Class Structure of the 1973), p. 103.

Advanced

Societies

(London: Hutchinson,

64

l

ies

Filipino Politics

—but a potential

that, in the Philippines,

is

beginning

to

become

a

reality.

Organizing Mass Discontent

Surely Philippine social inequalities must have bred envy and discontent, as the violent demonstrations* of 1970 in Manila suggest. But discontent requires organizational expression to have a profound politimpact. Both labor and peasant organizations were, in

ical

fact,

on the

rise.

In the early 1950s government manipulation of organized labor reached a level not matched until after 1972. The secretary of labor was president of the major national union federation, and most labor-

management

disputes were handled by the Court of Industrial Rela-

compulsory arbitration. In 1953 the Industrial Peace Act actively backed by some independent union leaders, a few senintroduced free collective bargaining and ators, and the U.S. Embassy sharply restricted government meddling in labor organizations, all with the intent of depoliticizing the union movement. (Comparable rights were not extended to agricultural workers until 1963.) The legislation was initially successful. Newly registered collective bargaining agreements had previously averaged fewer than hfty per year; in the hrst hve years after the new act they averaged 146 annually, and 222 from 1967 to 1972. Nor were these all “sweetheart contracts.” The number of strikes grew from 12 in 1953 to an annual average of 108 in the late 1960s; man days lost topped one million for the hrst time in 1969. Clearly even nonpolitical unionism could be troublesome. Yet labor activity was still severely limited: in 1970 one million workers were union members (the number of unions had grown tenfold since 1953) but made up only 10 percent of the labor force. Furthermore, some unions were only the clientage of a new type of patron, the labor boss, who usually had no political ambition beyond Ending himself a still more powerful patron. A few became politicians themselves and were easily coopted by the elite. If the labor movement generally was weak, what of its branch in agriculture, which was estimated to be only about 10 percent of the organized work force? Its rapid growth in the 1960s won national attention. The sugar mills had been the hrst segment of agriculture to tions in a kind of

—

—

^^See Elias T. Ramos, Philippine Labour Movement in Transition (Quezon City: New Day, 1976), passim, and David Wurfel, “Trade Union Development and Labor Relations Policy in the Philippines,” Industrial and Labor Relations Review 12 (July 1959), 562—608.

The Socioeconomic

65

Setting

unionize; unions remained active there and gradually spread into the

Such unions, like sugar itself, were concentrated in the southern province of Negros Occidental. But the most dramatic organizational developments were among rice farmers, notable both for their numbers and for their proximity to Manila. They thus could affect elite held.

political consciousness.^®

The

Federation of Free Farmers was both the largest and the oldest

group. The FFF was formed in the early 1950s by Jeremias Montemayor, then dean of the College of Law, Ateneo de Manila, and he continued as president. In the hrst few years a few Jesuit priests helped; they shared Montemayor’s commitment to agrarian reform

and

his desire to stop

communism

in the Philippine countryside.

(The

Asia Foundation of San Francisco provided funding for the FFF program.) For several years it expanded slowly in those provinces within a half day’s drive of Manila,

its

stability

ment of Dean Montemayor and provincial leaders

Montemayor was

—or

the persistent personal commit-

his ability to retain the loyalty

replace those acting contrary to

FFF

of

“policy.”

Magsaysay and Macapagal, and he played a major role in writing the 1963 Agrarian Reform Code. His organization concentrated on forming coops and on enforcing tenancy and land-reform legislation through petitions, court cases, and visits to Malacanang Palace. In 1966 Montemayor established a good relationship with the

close to both

new

resident of the palace.

because the FFF was larger and more visible than any other peasant group and partly because trustworthy young leaders had been trained by Montemayor, the organization began to spread like wildhre. Local peasant groups petitioned for affiliation, as FFF officers traveled throughout the Philippines. The outburst of social conscience among both Catholic clergy and laity was also a motive force. Growth was particularly rapid in Mindanao. Membership expanded by tens of thousands each year, and by 1972 it was estimated at

By the

late 1960s, partly

half a million (including farmers’ families).

younger leaders had pioneered new

By the

early 1970s,

more-

FFF: direct action to prevent a tenant’s ejection by a landlord, campaigns for reform candidates in local elections, and in 1971 a massive “live-in” picket in front of Congress to help push amendments to the Agrarian Reform Code. Such a dynamic, progressive peasant movement inevitably suffered with the coming of martial law. In the midst of factional over,

roles for the

^^See Blondie Po, Rural Organizations in the Philippines (Quezon City; Ateneo de Manila University, Institute of Philippine Culture, 1980), chap. 4; Gerrit Huizer, “Philippine Peasant Organizations,” Solidarity, June 1972, pp. 17—31.

— 66

Filipino Politics

struggles, charges of

“Communist

arrest of several local leaders,

by Montemayor, and the chapters collapsed. Others were

infiltration”

many

—

by the head office and some especially in Mindanao went underground.'^^ In the 1960s the FFF expressed the rising tide of peasant consciousness around the country, but in the area of Central Luzon once the Huks’ stronghold it found a competitor. The Free Farmers’ Union, Malayang Samahang Magsasaka, founded in 1964, was popularly known by its acronym, MASAKA. It was conceived by Jesus Lava, former secretary general of the Communist party, and headed by Felixberto Olalia, chairman of the CP peasant union in the 1940s. Even “disaffiliated”

at

the local level, especially in

Nueva

Ecija

and Pampanga,

its

leaders

be former Huks or their sons.^L In many towns EEE members, primarily out of old loyalties, switched to MASAKA when it formed a local chapter. (Both organizations were made up primarily of tenants, not landless laborers.) However, the label “Communist” soon attached to the organization by officials kept away farmers who wanted to “avoid trouble.” Nevertheless, within four years MASAKA had nearly 70,000 members. Despite labels and historic linkages, MASAKA was far from revolutionary; like the FEE, it concentrated on the implementation of agrarian reform, sometimes negotiating with landlords about the terms of the new leasehold tenancy. In addition, however, like its predecessor in the 1940s it endorsed friendly candidates at election time and occasionally demonstrated against American military bases. With the declaration of martial law it was dissolved as an “illegal” organization. Most of its members joined the new village cooperatives set up under martial law. And there were other indicators of unrest. One was the number of cases hied each year with the Court of Agrarian Relations. Erom hscal year 1963 to hscal 1971 the number more than tripled, to over 3300, jumping sharply in hscal 1968.^^ Easily the heaviest caseload was in the province of Nueva Ecija the MASAKA stronghold. Despite collective bargaining, by the late 1960s more and more urban

tended

to

—

—

—

than half some say only a small fraction of pre-1972 membership Montemayor continued as president after September 1972, running the FFF office out of his residence as before, supporting the New Society land reform (especially on trips to the United States) but also trying to monitor its implementation and occasionally becoming involved in low-key pressure group activities. He also became a member of the Interim National Assembly. "^^See Benedict Kerkvliet, “Agrarian Conditions since the Huk Rebellion: A Barrio in Central Luzon,” in Kerkvliet, Political Change in the Philippines, pp. 60ff, and Po, pp. 54ff. Court of Agrarian Relations, Tenth Annual Report of the Executive Judge, FY 1972

^^With

less

(Manila, 1973),

p. 35.

The Socioeconomic

Setting

67

union leaders, frustrated by oppressive management and high unemployment and with no signihcant improvements in government policy in sight, turned like their rural counterparts to political protest. Radical rhetoric scared many members of the elite; but the workers’ and peasants’ movements, regardless of rapid growth across the 1960s, were, in fact, still comparatively weak. Predictions of social upheaval multiplied in the press, but they exaggerated the reality. Well-entrenched social mechanisms were at work to moderate frustration.

Alleviating Class Conflict

Emigration has long provided both a hope and an increasing opportunity. For instance, in 1970 schoolteachers (whose profession is highly prestigious) were not really satished; if given another chance, 92 percent said that they would not choose teaching again, and 46 percent said that they wanted to move, mainly to the United States. The curriculum, it is true, had not fully outgrown the American period. Its models, like those of the movies, concentrated on upper middle-class American life styles; it was no wonder that so many wanted to emigrate. The late 1960s saw changes in both U.S. and Canadian immigration laws, dramatically raising the chance for Filipinos actually to move. Five years after a 1965 amendment to the U.S. Immigration Act, annual Filipino immigration had increased from 2,298 to 20,744. Filipino immigration into Canada, starting from a smaller absolute number, grew even more rapidly and was made up almost entirely of collegeeducated professionals, those who felt most keenly the frustration of their aspirations.^^ The Philippine government understood this “brain drain” as an important safety valve for middle-class discontent and did not discourage it. As of 1969 about 7 percent of all Filipino college graduates were eventually taking up permanent residence abroad. By the early 1970s the Middle Eastern labor market was opening up as

—

well.

Though emigration probably sequences more

has political and economic consignificant for the Philippines than for any other

See Douglas E. Foley, “Culture, Politics, and Schools Ethnographic Study of Teacher Community Involvement”

Rural Philippines: An (diss., Stanford University, in

1970), pp. 234, 227. 44 See United Nations Institute for Training

(New

and Research, The Brain Drain from Five Also U.S. Immigration and Naturalization

York, 1971), p. 158. Service, Annual Report, 1974 (Washington, D.C., 1975), Table 15A. 45 Frank Lynch and Perla Q. Makil, Brain Drain in the Philippines, pt. 2 (Quezon City: National Science Development Board, 1969). In 1969 there were already 38,000 Filipinos, mostly unskilled or semiskilled, who were working abroad temporarily.

Developing Countries

a

68

Filipino Politics

Southeast Asian country, except possibly Malaysia, it is still less important than the social system itself as an explanation for comparative sociopolitical stability. The most relevant channels of social interaction are not within single-class groupings, and interclass exchanges in the Philippines are highly personalized. Traditional patterns have been changing, however, at an increasing rate in recent years. As the landed class became more involved in commercial activities, hrst in the town and later very often in Manila, it found numerous incentives to ignore obligations to tenants and other peasant clients. The time of the landlord was committed more to commercial activities; many moved the principal family residence to Manila. Furthermore, the obligation to provide loans to tenants, with uncertain repayment, limited the patron’s capital accumulation.^® Dealings with tenants came to be handled through an encargado, or overseer, who had no sense of social obligation and put the landlord-tenant relationship on a more “businesslike” basis. By the end of World War II the traditional, diffuse patron-client system had been abandoned in many parts of the Philippines, especially in Central Luzon, and elsewhere it was eroding rapidly. This change did not necessarily heighten class consciousness among the peasantry, however. The “little people” merely looked for new patrons (padrinos) to meet their needs. As all-purpose patrons were no longer to be found, they tended to become clients of different persons for different purposes. The tenant, no longer able to get interest-free loans from the landlord, would have to hnd another source of credit friendly shopkeeper, a rice buyer, perhaps a well-to-do relative. Local political leaders (liders) also began to hll the gap left by the withdrawal The lider could provide off-season employof traditional patrons. ment for loyal voters. Sometimes small or medium landlords them-

—

became liders. In regions where landowners had only small holdings, were resident in the barrio, and were relatives of their tenants, such as Ilocos, the selves

But even

urban industrial areas the essence of the patron-client system of exchange was not lost. New traditional pattern died slowly.

in

Mary Hollnsteiner, “Reciprocity in the Lowland Philippines,” in Frank Lynch, Four Readings in Philippine Values (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1970), p. 85. See also James Scott and Benedict Kerkvliet, “How Traditional Rural Patrons Lose Legitimacy,” Cultures et developpement 5, 3 (1973), 501-40. “^^See, for instance, K. G. Machado, “Changing Patterns of Leadership Recruitment and the Emergence of the Professional Politician in Philippine Local Politics,” in Kerkvliet, Political Change in the Philippines, pp. 77—129. ed..

The Socioeconomic

Setting

69

corporations were most often family-owned, and so the presidentmanager became in some respects a padrino to his employees. The

employer and most employees (recent migrants from the farm) were most comfortable when they could recreate the human relations of the countryside. “Fringe benehts” were not taken or given as an employee’s right, but as a gift from a benehcent patron. Where employees were numerous, and employers were socially or geographically distant, the labor union boss sometimes became the new patron. Thus even the apparent depersonalization of urban life did not

—

—

quickly transform the sharp inequities of socioeconomic stratihcation into self-conscious, single-class groupings organized to serve class inter-

Lower-income families could see no short-term advantage in such a new approach and could hardly afford to act on the basis of long-term interests. They brought to the new situation the old, proven strategy: hnd a patron who will provide protection and some economic security. ests.

Social Mobility

Differences in socioeconomic status are

deemed

insignihcant in any

because of a widespread Filipino belief in the Horatio Alger story. Secretary of Labor Bias Ople gave voice to this perspective: in the Philippines “there has been a very impressive rate of social mobility, a process of constant replenishment of leadership in business and industry and in the professions. Most of the people you hnd at the top of business enterprises were a generation ago working on the farms. It is a hopeful perspective, a powerful incentive for the lowly born to case,

complete their education. It is also largely a myth. Only 8 percent of Filipino industrial entrepreneurs in the early 1960s had held their hrst job in agriculture, and only 21 percent ever worked with their hands; the most common pattern was a movement from commerce to manufacturing. In terms of socioeconomic status, 60 percent of entrepreneurs had fathers from This is not to say, however, that the upper or upper-middle class. there was no upward social mobility at all: 64 percent of entrepreneurs did rise above the social status of their parents, even if only by one step. Class barriers were also strengthening rapidly. Only 9 percent of those who started their manufacturing enterprises before 1945 had upper-class fathers, but 51 percent of those who began after 1950 Quoted

in S. G. del Rosario,

(Manila, 1973), p. 38. Carroll, pp. 73, 91.

How

Martial

Law Saved Democracy

in the Philippines

— 70

Filipino Politics

The same

trend was affecting access to the political elite. Those entering Congress in the 1960s were much more likely to be from wealthy families than those who entered in the 1940s. Education does seem to provide for some upward mobility. As the Ranis Report concludes, in the Philippines “higher education appears to be more open to entry for the children of workers and farmers than did.^^

most European countries.”^ -Yet the limitations are real. Social class differences themselves still determine the accessibility of education. In 1971 at least two-thirds of college and university students came from families above the median in annual income. Lower-class families clearly had to make extraordinary sacrihces even to send one child at a time to college. The help of older siblings was often crucial. Perhaps the clearest indication of how social class determines opportunities for educational achievement is in the drop-out rate. In 1954 only 42 percent of those who began school in the hrst grade were able to reach the sixth. (This retention rate was poorer than Malaysia’s but better than that in Burma, Indonesia, and Thailand. By 1966 official hgures indicated that the sixth-grade retention rate had reached 56 percent. The greatest loss was in the hrst year, when about 17 percent “fall by the wayside.” The cost of books, supplies, and various “dona.

.

.

^

in

tions” to the school

is

too great for the poorest families.

The

next big

of students, another 17 percent was between the fourth and hfth grades (a reflection of the fact that most barrio schools did not until recently go beyond the fourth). The cost differential between sending a child to school in the barrio and sending him to the poblacion, or town center, is very great. For a similar reason, fewer than half of those who finished the sixth grade were able to graduate from high school, for high schools are almost never found in barrios. Fewer than half who graduated from high school finished college still a good proportion by international standards. And the college survival rate (based on first-grade enrollment) rose from 6 percent in 1962 to 11.5 percent in 1966. This improvement partly resulted from lowering already lax academic standards, but since social status is determined more by the possession of a degree than by its contents, the loss

18—19. See also Alfred B. Bennett, Jr., “Managers and Entrepreneurs: A Comparison of Social Backgrounds in Philippine Manufacturing,” in Frank Lynch and Alfonso de Guzman II, eds.. Modernization: Its Impact on the Philippines, IPC Papers no. 10 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1970). ^^Ranis Report, p. 330. 52Myrdal, 3: 1972-73. Ibid. pp.

1

53 Carroll, p. 85, tion for

and

Presidential

National Development:

Commission

New Directions

to

Survey Philippine Education, Educa-

(Manila, 1970),

p. 34.

1

The Socioeconomic

unemployment

rates

some expansion

tionally high. In 1969, only 60.6 percent of

employed.

These hgures

the well-educated was relatively

expected

at

all

in

college graduates were

reflected the long wait for the

typical of the Philippine labor market.

among

first

and

the change

Thus

first.

is

job so

But since high unemployment recent, the pot of gold was still

the end of the academic rainbow. “Rags to riches”

a difficult course

7

upward mobility. among the college-educated were excep-

increase nevertheless did signify

Yet

Setting

getting even harder;

is,

in fact,

young people experience

the emergence of class consciousness was most

noticeable in the late 1960s

and

early 1970s

among students and

recent

graduates. Still,

frustrated ambitions did not produce as

much

social conflict as

would lead even a modernized Filipino determined psychological mechanism may serve

objective conditions

to expect.

A culturally

to repress

the expression of frustration. Because self-esteem

such a central, yet delicate, component in the modal Filipino personality, accepted behavior patterns make every effort to avoid damage to it. The widespread value of accommodation to others, pakikisama, reinforces this pattern. Such a tendency to avoid conflict clearly deters the venting of dissatisfaction. When one person does abandon the traditional restraints and expresses his true negative feelings about those around him, however, he produces a chain reaction of damaged self-esteem and extravagant, macho the phenomenon is indeed more common among males than females efforts to redeem it. A social relationship may move quickly from apparent placidity to violence. Filipinos may be masters of compromise, but even they find it difficult to reach a compromise settlement after individual self-esteem has been fundamen-

—

is

—

tally assaulted.

Conclusion

Yet by the early 1970s the compensatory mechanisms of the social

system were of declining effectiveness. Conflict was expanding. Patronclient relationships were losing their binding force. Expanding education did not produce the expected enhancement of economic wellbeing. More and more men of means were finding obligations of patronage too onerous. And group membership provided the disaffected with a psychological security from which they could launch their salvos against those they identified as political or economic exploiters. Among the ameliorating factors we have considered, only Ranis Report, pp. 314, 310.

72

Filipino Politics

opportunities for emigration continued to expand. But they were not

enough to keep social unrest from It would be a mistake, however,

intensifying.

of social conflict without reference to specihcally political processes. The level of conflict in the 1960s was regulated in part by political rewards and punishments. The rewards included expanded pork barrel; among the punishments were the increasing (and increasingly effective) use of the military and the police to control dissent. The year 1972 marked a turning toward much heavier reliance on forceful restraints to preserve social order, partly because ameliorating factors in the social system had declined in effectiveness. The extent of unrest was undoubtedly masked by the increasing use and threat of government force, especially after 1972, and by deference from the common tao. Peasants and their urban cousins have developed a deferential style toward authority hgures which is not unique to the Philippines but is especially important there. Their deference is in part habitual, demanded by generations of patrons. It may also be calculating, both because of the favors it helps to earn and because of the trouble it avoids. But observance of the forms of lowerclass deference tells us little about the underlying attitudes and values of the deferential.^^ Suspicion by government leaders that deference masked discontent became a continuing motive for forceful restraints. The turn toward authoritarianism may also have been caused by the nature of the elite. Though less tightly organized, the extended families of the Filipino oligarchy resemble the clan conglomerates, or zaibatsu, which emerged in Meiji Japan. Potential conflicts of economic interest were softened and access to political decision makers was facilitated by to

well-placed aunts, brothers, cousins,

conclude

and

this discussion

fathers-in-law.

Such intimate

compromise between industrial and agricultural elites may reduce the chances of mass political participation in a competitive context. A. F. K. Organski has suggested that an alliance of agricultural and industrial elites at an early stage of politicoeconomic development will obviate the necessity to find mass support because neither elite will

need to compete with the other. Both will thus oppose autonomous mass participation altogether, seeing it as a threat to their alliance. This

^^See James Scott, The Moral Economy of the Feasant (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1976), p. 232. This is the basic reason why opinion polling among Filipino peasants on sensitive issues is so unrewarding. ^®See A. F. K. Organski, The Stages of Political Development (New York: Knopf, 1965), pp. 122-57.

The Socioeconomic pattern has been identified in certainly

fit

But the

many

Setting

73

some Latin American countries and

aspects of the Philippine scene of the early 1970s.^^

among

Filipino elites was by

no means

Family ties could not paper over all the cracks. Policy debates sometimes raged in the press. Economic nationalists blocked legislation favored by the allies of foreign capital, and aspiring political leaders, usually of middle-class origins, sometimes tried to mobilize peasant or trade union support. Such events escape the pattern that Organski describes, and they require us to consider the impact of political institutions that alliance

solid.

encouraged electoral competition. Indeed, these institutions facilitated elite factions and long obscured any underlying consensus. It was the growth of mass political awareness and the erosion of some of the cultural mechanism which inhibited unrest that caused elite consensus to emerge. As the elite perception of a common threat spread. President Marcos discovered that he could put it to his own uses. His success was, in part, due to his familiarity with the institutions of constitutional democracy, their strengths and their weaknesses, and his ability to manipulate both. See James Malloy, ed., Authoritarianism and Corporatism University of Pittsburgh Press, 1977).

in Latin

America (Pittsburgh:

The Constitutional Regime

4

More than

a

decade of authoritarian rule by Ferdinand Marcos

notwithstanding, the institutions and processes of the premartial law regime warrant careful attention. Many survived the break with the past in 1972, either in whole or in part; this discussion, therefore,

forms a basis necessary to the description of government after that date. Furthermore, many of the institutions and processes that matured under the 1935 constitution reemerged after the collapse of the authoritarian Marcos regime. They have come to conform to the patterns of Filipino political culture and to the socioeconomic structure. Continuity has been greater than the rhetoric in either 1972 or 1986 would imply.

The

independence was characterized minor changes in legal structures,

hrst generation of Philippine

by institutional evolution electoral processes,

and

—relatively

political parties

ten constitution almost entirely

—within the context of a writ-

unamended. This

institutional

was slower than economic change, perhaps contributing to the

change political

frustration evident in the 1960s.

Yet economic growth, (with proht for

some and poverty

neither diminished the power of the economic

elite

for others)

nor altered funda-

As we have pointed out, that structure inhibited competition within the elite based on conflict of economic interests. Furthermore that economic power fostered the values and social processes, especially the patron-client system, which helped legitimize elite dominance. These factors, rather than the nature of the mentally

its

internal structure.

institutions themselves, limited fact,

demands

for institutional change. In

the constitutional structure and the political processes

it

legit-

imized actually encouraged elite competition and mass political mobilization, opening opportunities to aspiring political elites. One observer has seen the signihcance of formal constitutional struc-

The

Constitutional

Regime

75

tures as setting “limits to the bargaining process” of Philippine politics^

we shall see, the distribution of institutional power also influences who ends up with all the chips and thus who has the power to bring (As

—

bargaining to an end.) However, informal institutions that evolved primarily outside legal confines, political parties among them, were more a part of that bargaining process than a restraint on it. They are more sensitive than a constitution to cultural values and socioeconomic power.

The Constitution

Before 1972 most students of Philippine politics stressed the stability and continuity of central institutions as defined in the 1935 constitution. A constitution that had weathered war and foreign occupation, internal rebellion and the death in office of three presidents, had indeed become strong enough to limit the exercise of power. The Philippine Constitution was drafted by a popularly elected constituent assembly. Though chosen under provisions of American legislation, the 1935 convention was under no direct pressure from American officials. In fact, only three requirements for a new constitution were set forth in the Tydings- McDuffie Act of 1934: it was to contain a bill of rights, ensure religious freedom, and establish a gov-

ernment “republican

in form.”

The most important channel of American

influence was simply expe-

Approximately half of the delegates to the convention had been elected officials in the government established by the Jones Act and were familiar with its principles and its language (much of it borrowed from the U.S. constitution).^ A few of the drafters had even sat in the U.S. House of Representatives as nonvoting “resident commissioners.” American influence was not so strong, however, as to rience. ^

preclude the introduction of several new legal features or to prevent the exclusion of some typically American ones. For instance, the federal

Grossholtz, Politics in the Philippines (Boston: Little Brown, 1964), p. 108. I have chosen to characterize the 1946-72 period as “constitutional” rather than “democratic,” though the concepts overlap. My preferred term lays more emphasis on attention to legality of processes than to the wide sharing of power. “Regime” refers to both the

Hean

and those who wield power within them. 2 However, one eminent legal scholar, Vicente Sinco, has revealed that the requirement that the U.S. president approve the constitutional draft convinced some delegates

institutions

1935 that an American-style constitution was necessary to ensure that approval. See Parliamentary Government for the Philippines (Manila: Community, 1971), p. 31. ^See J. Ralston Hayden, The Philippines (New York: Macmillan, 1947), pp. 32—54. in

his

76

Filipino Politics

concept was not adopted. And mildly nationalistic provisions limiting to Filipino citizens or corporations they controlled the rights to use natural resources and to operate public utilities were clearly homegrown. Only in 1946 did the United States press the Filipinos to amend these provisions (Arts. XII and XIII). A moderate socialist tone in some articles indirectly expressed both European influences and minority ideas in the United States at the time. For instance, Art. II (5) declared that “the promotion of social justice to insure the well-being and economic security of all the people should be the concern of the State.” Further provisions permitted the compensated expropriation of private agricultural lands for subdivision and resale and provided for state ownership of industries “in the interest of national welfare.” All these provisions were at least partly implemented, but without fundamentally transforming Philippine society.

This 1935 constitution could be amended either by a three fourths vote of the legislature or by a constitutional convention. In either case, proposals had to be ratified by popular referendum. Three times amendments were adopted by the legislature, then ratified, first in 1939 on a minor question, and second in 1940 changing a unicameral National Assembly to a bicameral Congress, creating the Commission on Elections, and altering the term of the president. After the war the only constitutional revision duly ratified, after a vigorous campaign by President Manuel Roxas, was the so-called Parity Amendment of 1946, which gave Americans equal economic rights with Filipinos until 1974.

The Presidency

The most powerful institution created by the 1935 constitution was the presidency. The American example was crucial, but the most important influence on the character of the office was the personality of Manuel Quezon. He had first won leadership of the Nacionalista party president of the Senate, but he saw in the office of chief executive a much greater potential for national leadership. Though not while

still

a delegate, he

pushed the

He

constitutional convention to create a power-

was entirely successful; the office defined was certainly more potent than its American counterpart. In addition to possessing greater scope at the national level, the Philippine president became head of a unitary system and thus exercised considerable control over local government. Though legislative power resided in Congress, the president assumed wide discretion to issue executive orders and was seldom challenged in the courts. President Elpidio ful presidency.

^

The

Constitutional

Regime

77

Quirino’s attempt to enact the entire budget by executive order in 1949 was, however, foiled by the Supreme Court as well as by Congress.^

President Marcos’s creation of thirty three municipalities by executive order was also invalidated by the Supreme Court. But less ambitious efforts have usually succeeded,

and even executive departments were

sometimes created by executive order. The emergency powers only implicit in the American presidency were made explicit in the Philippine case. On the one hand. Congress could specihcally authorize the president “in times of war or other national emergency” to rule by decree for a limited period. Shortly after the Japanese attack in December 1941 the Congress, quite understandably, did indeed grant such sweeping emergency powers. At no point after independence, however, did Congress feel that the situation

demand

that

it

totally abdicate its function.

Another constitutional route to complete presidential control did not, however, depend on the Congress. Art. VII(11)(2), lifted from the Jones Act, read: “In case of invasion, insurrection, or rebellion, or imminent danger thereof, when the public safety requires it, [the president]

may suspend

the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus, or

place the Philippines or any part thereof

under martial

law.”

Habeas

corpus was twice suspended, during the Huk rebellion in the early 1950s and again after the Plaza Miranda bombing in 1971, and both times was restored without having affected the system of government. Martial law, however, was another matter. In 1972 President Marcos used it personally to “govern the nation and direct the operation of the entire government” by decree and general order not subject to judicial review, thus bypassing both the legislature and the judiciary.®

The Administration

The

executive branch was further structured beyond constitutional

provisions.

The

president controlled the

civil

administration through

three levels of organization: the Executive Office, headed by an executive secretary who was truly an assistant president; an extremely

heterogeneous Office of the President that including everything from the powerful (Philippine National Bank, Budget Commission, and National Intelligence Coordinating Agency) to the insignihcant (Com-

See John Romani Philippine Presidency (Manila: University of the Philippines, 1956), pp. 70-76. ^Teopisto Guingona, Jr., Flaws from the Constitution (Quezon City, 1970), p. 59. ® General Order no. 1, September 22, 1972. 4

,

78

Filipino Politics

and the National Stud Farm); and the executive departments. As of 1970 these departments were foreign affairs, hnance, justice, agriculture and natural resources, public works and mittee

on

State Visits

communications, education,

labor,' national defense, health,

commerce

and social welfare. The cabinet, not mentioned in the constitution, was made up of department heads and other persons designated by the president (normally the press secretary, the budget commissioner, the chairman of the National Economic Council, and the executive secretary were in-

and

industry, general services,

cluded).

The social welfare commissioner, member in some administrations,

usually a

woman, was

also a

was the commissioner of civil service. When a president had no strong views on a subject or was unsure of his political base, the cabinet became a forum for debate and votes were taken. To strong presidents, however, cabinet members were merely advisers. The president could lend special legitimacy to particularly important national decisions by calling on the Council of State (renamed Council of Leaders under Marcos) for advice. The council was made up of the cabinet, top congressional leaders, and such distinguished citizens as the governor of the Central Bank and living cabinet

as

expresidents.

The

vice-president was often in the cabinet but only by virtue of his

appointment as head of a department. Vice-President Lopez under Quirino was secretary of agriculture, for instance, and Magsaysay’s vice-president, Carlos Garcia, was secretary of foreign affairs. But the vice-president could be of a different party from the president, as was Macapagal, or affiliated with a different faction within the same party; then he might not even have been on speaking terms with the presidents. The vice-president had no constitutional duty other than to succeed to the presidency in event of the president’s death or incapacity. Three of six vice-presidents elected under the 1935 constitution did so. Executive and administrative agencies, including government corporations, were staffed by a civil service dehned and protected in the constitution. Article XI provided that appointments to the civil service

made on

merit alone, “to be determined as far as practicable by competitive examination.” Civil service employees as well as members

be

of the military

—

—were prohibited from engaging directly or indirectly

in partisan political activity

and were not

to

The

be removed or suspended

Commission governed this personnel system under laws and regulations that would have been called progressive anywhere. Yet one careful observer concluded that in no aspect of Philippine government was “the gulf be“except for cause as provided by law.”

Civil Service

The

Constitutional

Regime

79

formal arrangements and informal practices more obvious tween than in public personnel administration.”^ Some discrepancies resulted from manipulation of the rules, others from a complete disregard for them. What caused this great gulf? The Philippine bureaucracy was almost .

.

.

entirely subordinate to political direction, for

good or

ill.

Unlike in

most other former colonies the purely colonial civil service had come to an end many years before independence. A bureaucracy manned by Filipinos had been forced to deal with the side effects of electoral politics,

By the

and

in particular the appetite for patronage, since the 1920s.

independence the pattern had been set; bureau directors and division chiefs received appropriations from the legislature in exchange for appointing friends, relatives, and needy constituents of congressmen. Civil service rules offered no protection against a budget cut. Bureaucrats were also beset by their own family, friends, compadres, and neighbors for favored treatment. Their sense of personal obligation was usually greater than their still lively attachment to rules, regulations, even-handed justice, and all the other values of early years of

modernity. Such behavior was nothing more than an attempt to live up to the expectations of others; it involved no extra income for the bureaucrat. Yet some bureaucrats also played favorites and bent rules for personal proht. The economic context helps make this corruption understandable. Though the “Japanese time,” when it was patriotic to cheat the occupying power, had a baneful effect on Filipino moral standards,

postwar inflation was even more disastrous for civil servants. The cost of living rose 350 percent from 1940 to 1956, but no middle- or upperlevel civil service salary so much as doubled. In 1956 the Budget

Commission began

a

wage and

position classification to serve as the

basis for rational salary increases, but less

than one-third of necessary

funds to implement the approved recommendations were actually appropriated. Subsequent and politically popular across-the-board increases put top-level civil servants in a worse relative position than ever before; they were remembered by Congress only in 1963. The financial basis for bureaucratic self-confidence

and the probity

that

it

tends to

top bureaucrats in Malaysia, for instance, were getting salaries with more than twice the purchasing power of their Filipino counterparts.

bring did not

^

Ferrel Heady,

exist;

“The Philippine Administration System

— Fusion of East and West,”

in

William J. Sifhn, ed.. Toward a Comparative Study of Public Administration (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1957), p. 272.

^

80

Filipino Politics

The

very size of the Philippine bureaucracy and the political pres-

—

growing surges came shortly before presidential election campaigns prevented the salary increases that could have helped change behavior. Many civil servants had little cause for complaint, however. More than 80 percent of national government employees in 1964 had entered the civil service without competitive examination and with only a temporary appointment; among higher civil servants (administrative officers and above), 57 percent had entered the service in like manner. Moreover, the percentage entering through personal contacts, without examination, was much higher among the younger than among the older bureaucrats, indicating the postwar trend. Nevertheless, they were well-trained more than 95 percent had college degrees, over half of them in law. It was not for lack of personal ability that the bureaucracy was weak and poorly disciplined. The fault lay in its subordination to electoral politics and in its being enmeshed in sures to keep

it

—

—

cultural values inconsistent with formal goals.

The Military

The

president was commander-in-chief of the

Philippines, establishing a chain of

command

that

armed

forces of the

would prove

crucial,

but his political relationship to them resembled that with the civil bureaucracy. Appointments to the rank of colonel and above were made by the president with the concurrence of the Commission on Appointments. Successful penetration of the military hierarchy thus required a padrino. Nomination may have been based on the judgment of professional peers, but conhrmation was strictly political. Philippine Military Academy graduates, who dominated the military, were not without need of patrons, but reserve officers from university ROTC programs needed political support both for integration into the regular forces and for subsequent promotion. Indirectly, indeed, political influence reached below the colonel’s rank. The military were also beholden to Congress for their appropriation and therein lay another channel for political influence. The military, bolder than the civil servants, on one occasion enjoying the confidence of Ramon Magsaysay, a very friendly president threatened to resign over what they considered an unwarranted budget cut. Bravery,

—

—

®See Gregorio Francisco, “Career Development of Filipino Higher Civil Servants,” in Jose Abueva and Raul de Guzman, Foundation and Dynamics of Filipino Government and Politics

(Manila:

Bookmark,

1969), p. 403.

The

Constitutional

Regime

81

however, won neither a larger appropriation nor increased congressional confidence in the armed forces.® Political “meddling” grew. The military as a

body had no

political influence

during the constitutional

regime.

The Legislature

The

Philippine Congress was, until 1972, one of the most influential legislatures in the Third World. The body’s sense of independence derived in part from the colonial era when an elected legislature was the only truly national political institution. In fact, before 1935 the Philippine Legislature under Manuel Quezon and Sergio Osmena tried

make

the executive departments responsible to the elected branch. During the term of Governor-General Harrison certain quasi-parlia-

to

mentary practices did develop. But Quezon’s intention to become president influenced the Constitutional Convention elected in 1935, and any parliamentary tendencies were nipped in the bud with the proviso: “No Member of the Congress may hold any other office or employment

Government without forfeiting his seat.” Quezon had acquiesced in a unicameral National Assembly in 1935, but it was his wish that produced the 1941 amendment recreating a in the

bicameral body. He apparently feared the cohesion of a single house in any future conflict with the executive.^® What he did not realize was that in forming a 24-member Senate elected at large, he was setting up 24 rival candidates for the presidency. Eight of the 24 were elected every two years, running on party lists. The House, on the other hand, was elected from single-member districts with at least one from each province. The constitution authorized up to 120 members, but there were never more than 110. (An attempt to enlarge the membership to the full 120 in 1961, in connection with reapportionment, was struck

the

bill’s

down by

the

Supreme Court

for

failure to provide for constituencies of equal size; thus the

even-greater inequities of the 1950s persisted.) According to the 1970 census. House districts varied in population from slightly more than House members were elected every four 10,000 to over two million. years, at the

same time

as the president.

^ Manila Bulletin, July 7, 18,

and

30, 1956.

Hayden, pp. 230ff. Stephen E. Frantzich, “A Comparative Study of (diss..

University of Minnesota, 1971),

p.

228.

Legislative Roles

and Behavior”

82

Filipino Politics

How

representative were

members of Congress of

the society for

which they legislated? Filipino women were the hrst in Asia to win the franchise and now play an unusually large role in the professions (90 percent of pharmacists, 40 percent of dentists, and 25 percent of chemical engineers, physicians, and accountants, as well as overwhelming dominance in nursing and teaching); Congress was nevertheless a male preserve. In some sessions there were no women at all; a token female per house was more common. In 1965, however, a third woman was elected to the Senate. Nor were congressmen representative of their countrymen either in -racial makeup or in regional origin. Most admitted either Chinese or Spanish ancestors, though the Filipinos of Furthermore, native Tagpure Malay stock increased over the years. alogs, either born or educated in Manila constituted the overwhelming majority of the nationally elected Senate even though Tagalogs made

more than one-fourth of the total population. The district basis for selection of the House prevented any greater regional imbalance in Congress, however, with more than 80 percent of representatives born up

little

in their

own

United

States.

The

constituencies, an even higher percentage than in the

frequently urban origins of senators related to their higher

socioeconomic status. In 1963, 28 percent of representatives and 79 percent of senators were upper-class. In the 1969 election candidates for the hrst time had to report their incomes; those elected to the House reported an average annual income of P70,000 (and incomes were likely to be signihcantly underreported), putting them in the country’s richest one-half percent. Wealth was clearly a great advantage in nomination and election; it was also accumulated by those who were electorally successful.

both cause and effect of socioeconomic status. In the early 1960s, 95 percent of senators and 90 percent of representatives were college graduates; 31 percent of senators and 27 percent of those in the lower house had also pursued postgraduate study. College study in the United States was perhaps a mark of wealth and certainly of Westernization: one in eight representatives and one in four senators

Education

is

Data drawn from Jose Abueva, “Social Backgrounds and Recruitment of Legislators and Administrators,” in Abueva and de Guzman, pp. 264—82; Robert Stauffer, “Philippine Legislators and Their Changing LJniverse,”7owma/ of Politics 28 (August 1966), 55697; Frantzich, “Comparative Study,” passim; and Robert Seibert, “Changes in the Socio.” (diss., Economic Composition of the Philippine House of Representatives (1946—65) Tulane University, 1969). 13 See Dante Simbulan, “A Study of the Socio-Economic Elite in Philippine Politics and .

Government, 1946—1963”

(diss.,

.

Australian National University, 1965), pp. 195ff.

The

Constitutional

Regime

83

had had this opportunity as of 1962. In the 1960s nearly half of all congressmen were graduates of a single university, the University of the Philippines.

Law was

the preferred course of study for two-thirds

—

more of both houses. The dominance of lawyers about on a par with the U.S. House is thus easily understood. But they were among or

—

the least effective lawmakers, often absenting themselves

from

legis-

pursue their private practice. Agriculture was the second most important occupation among representatives in the 1940s but dropped to eighth place in 1970. The percentage of businessmen trebled or quadrupled during the same period. It was no longer possible to speak of a “landlord Congress,” at least in terms of primary lative sessions to

occupation.

A

successful politican entered Congress either by building a political

machine gradually (50 percent of legislators in 1970 had relatives holding elected office) and moving from lower to higher elective office, or by constructing a machine quickly with lavish funds. Incumbency was a clear advantage; over half the senators, and more than one in four representatives stayed in office eleven years or more, reflecting at least one reelection for the former, two for the latter. Turnover in the House declined steadily after the war, though by 1969 the proportion of first-termers was still 43 percent. This turnover, relatively high by American standards, was largely due to the ephemeral nature of political alliances and the weakness of political parties. But a decline in turnover meant a restriction in opportunities for newcomers. In sum, a well-educated middle-aged elite becoming increasingly urban, wealthy, occupationally diverse, and politically experienced. Congress was not becoming more remote from the rural Philippines, however, because of a numerical overrepresentation of rural areas. The structure and powers of Congress revealed manifold American influences. As in the United States, the House of Representatives had sole power to initiate money bills. The Senate, on the other hand, ratified treaties but not appointments, because a constitutional body for that purpose, the Commission on Appointments, was made up of members from both houses. Yet the Philippine Senate was still stronger than its American counterpart because of the nationwide constituency. The committee structure in the Congress was also patterned after that in U.S. legislatures, with bills referred to specialized standing committees before being reported to the floor for debate. In 1971 there were 35 standing committees in the Senate and 27 in the House (a reduction As a result, committee attendance was poor and from the 1960s).

—

^'^See

Robert Jackson, “Committees

in the Philippine

Congress,” in John Lees and

84

Filipino Politics

committee chairmen were all-powerful. Most standing committees held no public hearings, but, again as in the United States, an occasional ad hoc investigating committee conducted well-publicized meetings, producing appropriate shock headlines. In those rare instances of interest group lobbying of Congress, committee chairman, who could most easily amend pending legislation, were the usual targets. Though chairmen of appropriation and revenue committees were particularly powerful, because of their special leverage in pursuing the

many

House and the Senate controlled even more extensive domains. In fact, their power exceeded only that of the president himself. They were the conduits between president and Congress even in those rare periods when they were not of the president’s party. Through power over the agenda they could block legislation they did not want adopted, and in the secrecy of bargains of

politics,

the presiding officers of the

Senate-House conference committee they had great influence over rewriting to accommodate powerful interests without soiling their “democratic” image. In tribute to the power they held and to the lack of party discipline more than half of a session was sometimes taken in the struggle over the choice of House speaker or Senate president. The speakers’ control over his colleagues’ voting which forced the president to woo the speaker if he would woo Congress derived not from party loyalty, which was notoriously weak, but from his control of a

—

—

—

—

House budget. Some speakers, including Daniel Romualdez in 1959 and Jose Laurel, Jr., in 1967, attempted to centralize patronage to tighten their hold over members. They arranged with the president, and insisted in letters to administrators, that all job recommendations from representatives to department and bureau heads should be the

routed through the speaker’s

Their ability to block appropriations for executive agencies was the prime bargaining chip in this arrangement.^^ The Senate president, presiding over a much smaller body of wealthy and famous men, had great influence but could not exercise the same discipline. Patronage decisions and budget allocations were less centralized than in the House and less crucial to a senator’s office.

reelection.

Malcolm Shaw,

eds., Committees in Legislatures:

A

Comparative Analysis (Durham;

Duke

University Press, 1979), pp. 148—90. ^^See Frantzich, p. 150, and Gregorio Francisco, Jr., and Raul de Guzman, “The ‘50-50 Agreement,’” in de Guzman, ed.. Patterns in Decision-Making: Case Studies in Philippine Public Administration (Manila: Graduate School of Public Administration, University of the Philippines, 1963), pp. 91—120.

The

Constitutional

Regime

85

For representatives, however, patronage was not just a topic of controversy with the speaker or the president it was the main business of politics. Loyal clients expected a successful politician to provide jobs (and the “loyal” multiplied immediately after his success.) Congressmen despaired that most of their time they were running an employment

—

Long

of hopeful constituents appeared every day at their offices, waiting for a letter of recommendation or, if especially well connected, a personal phone call to a government department. Other political payoffs tended to peak in election years, but job seekers were agency.

lines

incessant.

Senators were usually less concerned with patronage, but they could certainly not ignore it. They tended to focus their patronage on one region, usually that of their birth, then bargain with other senatorial candidates with political machines in other regions for the exchange of support. But the senator’s self-image as a national leader and the media attention he received, greater than that of his

House

colleagues, also

impelled him to give more time to general policy issues and the interests favoring or opposing particular proposals. The Senate, in fact, was the

government

institution that

provided the greatest opportunity for

intra-elite competition.

Executive -Legislative Relations

The preponderant

power of the Philippine president was clearly seen in his relationship to Congress. Though based on the theory of separation of powers, Philippine government gave most power to the president. But his ability to use his constitutional powers, even to expand on them, depended on the character of his political leadership and the bargains he could strike with members of Congress. Presidential domination of the legislative process would never again be as complete as it was under Quezon. Almost all the laws enacted by the First National Assembly contained the language of the original Malacahang draft. Even in the 1960s, however, almost all bills of general interest were hrst drafted by the executive branch. Fewer than a hundred bills were passed each year, and the president had much to say about which became law: he controlled the congressional agenda in the special sessions (almost always called to complete work after regular sessions, constitutionally limited to 100 days) and then exercised an extensive veto power. A majority of bills passed by both houses were particularistic; they

constitutional

granted

utility

franchises for example, created

86

Filipino Politics

changed the names of schoolsd^ Congressmen filed thousands of special-interest bills every session, doing favors for his local barrios, or

or simply trying to impress unsophisticated constituents. As a result, the priorities of technocrats on the president’s staff clashed with those of congressmen. The president had a constitutional mandate to present a budget to the Congress. From the early 1950s to the late 1960s the budget grew political liders

from a few hundred million

much more

to several billion pesos. It grew, in fact,

Congress was also wont to enact special money bills over and above the presidential budget, in seeming violation of the constitution. In 1968, for example. Congress appropriated P7.5 billion when government earnings totaled only P2.5 billion. But the actual dehcit of expenditure over receipts was far less than it appeared, for the Filipino president, through the budget commissioner, had assumed without challenge the power to “impound” appropriations when funds were not available in the treasury. The presidential “release” of funds was thus as important as congressional enactment. Congressmen and top bureaucrats lined up in front of the president’s office, to beg or demand that he release funds for a particular project or program. For congressmen, most of whom intended to run for reelection, the most important piece of legislation was the Public Works Act. Within that act, which had reached P500 million by 1969, attention focused on “community projects,” better known as pork barrel. Within this portion of the act members of Congress had almost complete discretion over where and how money was to be spent. In the early 1960s the average amount allocated to each representative was F300,000, to each senator about P500,00. These allocations were designed as a public show of interest in the constituency, usually fulhlling a promise to build a school or a road and calculated to employ as many men as possible in its construction; labor-intensive construction was preferred. About 20 percent of public works releases went to pork barrel. Congressmen regarded the release of their allocations in good time preferably a few months before the election as practically a requirement for success at the polls. As one veteran congressman explained, “My constituents need me as long as I bring them the bacon public works and jobs. As soon as I am unable, 1 am of no use

—

rapidly than the revenues to support

it.

—

—

^®See Robert Stauffer, “Congress in the Philippine System,” in A. Kornberg and L. D. Musolf, eds.. Legislatures in Developmental Perspective (Durham: Duke University Press, 1970), pp. 334-65. ^'^Felisa Fernandez, “The Budget Process and Economic Development Philippine Journal of Public Administration 16 (January 1972), 71. .

.

The

Constitutional

Regime

87

A

good working relationship with the president, either directly or through an intermediary, was thus essential. The president might merely “request” support, but the wise congressman knew that his support would open a credit line. During the 1968 hght over to them.”^®

appropriations for the Philippine contingent in Vietnam, for example, legislators were reportedly promised releases of F200,000 each for their support.

might appear that the president had the members of Congress entirely at his mercy. But Congress had its own weapons. One bargaining ploy was seldom discussed publicly: simple absenteeism. A congressman not in the session hall could not vote for the president’s bill; in fact, enough absentees made it impossible to get a quorum. An “attendance incentive” was needed, and a pork barrel release htted the It

need. Congressmen could also delay. But the president had the power not only of release but of transfer. During the Commonwealth, President Quezon had been given full authority to transfer funds from one government agency to another,

regardless of appropriated amounts,

if in

“the public interest.”^® His

immediate successors used that precedent. But when in 1948 Elpidio Quirino came to power, he was not an important influence in the newly formed Liberal party no one had expected him to become president, and he never became a strong legislative leader. His hrst budget was amended to limit the power to transfer to 50 percent of any item. Relations with Congress deteriorated within the next two years, and hscal year 1952 budget limited presidential transfer to 25 percent. The transfer privilege was 30 percent during the Macapagal years. As Marcos entered his second term with a 25 percent power, facing a constitutional limit of eight years in office, his influence over Congress diminished. For hscal 1972 a strong move to abolish the right altogether was beaten off with a compromise at 12 percent, an all-time low. Senators were particularly insistent on abolition after discovering that Marcos had secretly transferred P66 million from the Executive As Senator Tolentino rightly Office item to the speaker of the House. charged, the “much abused authority” to transfer allowed the president to rewrite the budget after it had become law. But presidents had come

—

to

view

this

Quoted

power

as a necessity.

in Frantzich, p. 200. Ledivina Vidallon-Carino,

The

Politics

and Administration

of the Pork Barrel (Manila; University of the Philippines, Local Government Center, 1966), is the most comprehensive work on the subject. i^See Caridad Alfonso, “Executive- Legislative Relations,” in Abueva and de Guzman, p.

343.

Manila Times,

May

17, 1971.

^

88

Filipino Politics

In addition to his discretion over the release and transfer of all funds, the president had sole authority over the distribution of a

“contingency fund,” which was a mere FIO million as recently as the 1960s but in 1972 reached P300 million. It was usually spent on disaster relief. But in 1969 Congress appropriated a Barrio Fund of PI 00 million, which Marcos could distribute directly to barrio councils for “community projects.” The fund was the president’s own pork barrel. Most of the money, augmented by transfer, he personally handed to barrio captains during the election campaign with an expectation of political support but no requirement as to how it was to be spent. Marcos was clearly compensating for other congressional restraints and attempting to bypass the middle level of the national patronage network. Congressmen themselves perceived a president with all this power as their “boss.” Yet this view, more common among representatives than among senators, was not entirely accurate. If the president was not skillful at the political game, even if he started the game with most of the chips in his corner, he might not win. Three incumbent presidents were, after all, defeated in their reelection bids.

—

The Judiciary

The

administration of justice in the Philippines under the 1935

Department of Justice which supervised the lower courts as well as government prosecution, and the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court was composed of eleven constitution was the responsibility of both the

appointed by the president to serve until retirement at age seventy. Its original jurisdiction was relatively unimportant, but its appellate jurisdiction was very broad including all cases in which an error or question of law was in dispute and heavily used. The court attracted great respect and often considered essentially political questions; when no mutually satisfactory compromise could be arranged, only the arbitration of the highest court was acceptable. Nor was the Supreme Court unwilling to shoulder this responsibility. As the dean of the College of Law at the University of the Philippines concluded in 1966, “the judiciary has been able to discharge its role in policy formulation,” ruling on issues “decisive to the whole political system.”^ The court’s tendency toward judicial activism was restrained, however, by constitutional provisions. A vote of two-thirds of all the mem-

justices,

—

—

^Wicente Abad Santos, “The Role of the Judiciary Law Journal (September 1966), 571.

in Policy

Formulation,” Philippine

A The bers

of the

court

Constitutional

Regime

89

was

required to declare a law or treaty unconstitutional. As a result, fewer than one in three statutes challenged before the high court was declared unconstitutional. The great public respect for the Supreme Court was substantiated in 1970 when 73 percent of Filipinos surveyed found the performance of the Supreme Court “satisfactory” or “very satisfactory,” compared to only 46 percent for Congress. secretary of justice who had just lost some important cases before the highest tribunal lashed out at this attitude: “Let us not look at the Supreme Court as if it were a paragon of perfection Let us not worship the members of our Supreme Court as gods with supernatural powers, or ... as sacred cows who are beyond reproach. Rather let us look at our Supreme Court as a body of men with feelings, affected by prejudices, possessed of caprices and susceptible to other frailties of human nature, whose imperfections are often reflected, wittingly or unwittingly, in their judicial pronouncements. Yet, his attitude was unusual, and widespread public trust facilitated respect for court decisions by other branches of government. In 1961, for instance, the court invalidated an act enlarging and reapportioning the House of Representatives just before the election even though its ruling threw the Nacionalista party into turmoil and may But no serious have contributed to its subsequent defeat at the polls. consideration was apparently given to ignoring the court’s ruling. This aura of respect for the court developed in part from the pervasive influence of the legal profession in Philippine life and also in part from the intelligence, honesty, and good sense of incumbents. The justices have been the most highly educated elite within the Philippine political system. Nearly half did postgraduate study, as often as not at high-status American universities.^® Furthermore, they formed a cohesive elite, more than 80 percent having graduated from the law school of the University of the Philippines. Just as important, incum.

.

.

22Guingona, p. 64. Another tribute to faith in the Court was the suggestion in 1970 by prominent lawyer-businessman that the constitution be revised, making a simple majority vote adequate to invalidate a statute and thus allowing the Court to exercise a more effective check on a legislature that often did not proceed with “due care and a

diligence.”

23Cregario Feliciano et al., Opinions on the Philippine Constitution of Voting Residents in the Greater Manila Area (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 1970), p. 130. 24 Juan Liwag, “A Critique of the Supreme Court,” in Abueva and de Cuzman, pp. 364-65. 25 See David Wurfel, “The Philippine Elections: Support for Democracy,” Survey 23 (May 1962), 26. 26 See C. Neal Tate, “The Social Background, Political Recruitment, and DecisionMaking of the Philippine Supreme Court Justices, 1901—1968” (diss., Tulane University, 1971), pp. 124ff.

90

Filipino Politics

bents brought a generous sprinkling of political experience to a bench

predominantly judicial in background. One-third had been elected to Congress, and nearly one-fourth had previously served in cabinet (a few had enjoyed both positions). The lower courts have been blessed with neither the same competence nor the same prestige; patronage politics affected them to a much greater degree. Decisions were frequently dictated, according to one senator, “by considerations of gratitude to yet,

some

Worse

politician.

inordinate delays in the judicial process, caused in part by the

concupiscence, incompetence, and lack of diligence of political appointees to the bench, created so much frustration among litigents that some were inclined to take the law into their own hands. Justice delayed could

mean

a vengeance killing.

Local Government

judges (the lowest and least respected level of the judicial system) were appointed by the Department of Justice in Manila, an indication of the centralization that persisted in the Philippines despite significant steps between 1954 and 1967 to strengthen local autonomy. Until 1950 all provincial- and municipal-level administrators including the provincial engineer and the superintendent of schools, for example were appointed by the national executive department to which they were responsible. In addition, the president could suspend certain elected local officials for cause. All of these powers had of course to be exercised in consultation with local political supporters, including congressmen. The country was divided as of 1971 into 68 provinces (Congress had created one new province every year during the 1960s) side by side with 60 chartered cities, which multiplied at an even more rapid rate, 1,430 municipalities, and nearly 30,000 barrios or villages. After 1955 all provincial governors were popularly elected. The governor presided over an elected provincial board of three or four members, which adopted a provincial budget but had very limited legislative or taxing powers. Japanese observers in 1943 described the provincial government as “an assemblage of agencies of the administrative departments of the central government holding office in one building of the All municipal

—

—

province, called the capitol,” and accurately so after the

— for many years there-

governor had almost no control over heads of administrative

Senator Arturo Tolentino, “For and de Guzman, p. 375.

a

Strong and Independent Judiciary,”

in

Abueva

The departments net

members

Even

in the province, in Manila,

who were

Constitutional

Regime

91

ultimately responsible to cabi-

and provincial revenues were small indeed.

Autonomy Act of

after the Local

revenues came from

Weak

1959, 65 percent of provincial either national aid or percentage allotments of

governor may have been in administrative terms, however, politically he was very important, often acting as the link between municipal and national leaders. The municipalities into which provinces were divided had their own law enforcement officers sometimes rightly confused with the mayor’s bodyguards and a wider taxing power than the province itself. In 1963 the average municipality raised half of its revenue locally. Municipalities were governed by an elected mayor and council. Though elected at large, councilmen were assigned a district usually two or more barrios in which they exercised some supervision. Before 1956 they also appointed the unpaid barrio lieutenant, but the emphasis on community development under Magsaysay generated a law providing for the barrio leader’s election. The Barrio Charter in 1959 added an elected barrio council and gave that council the power within narrow limits, to tax and spend. For a decade after 1956 more than RlOO million of U.S. and Philippine government funds poured into the community development program centered on barrio self-government, in turn stimulating considerable local effort to complete schools, feeder roads, and wells. The barrio lieutenant became a political hgure with whom bigger politicians dealt and often the backbone of the mayor’s following.^® (So signihcant was barrio-level political organization that under martial law President Marcos made it the focus of local government.) The chartered city is a local government entity within, but not under, the province. Almost all major population centers are now chartered cities (there were only ten before the war), but some are cities only by virtue of official designation. Originally the creation of a chartered city was a way for congressman to gain greater control over local politics, because city mayors and even councillors were appointed by the president (on the advice, of course, of the representative). The charters were legislative enactments and were amended in like manner. The Local Autonomy Act of 1959, however, required all mayors and councillors to be elected, an important reversal of previous centralizing national taxes.

as the provincial

—

—

—

—

28 Quotation

from Royama Masamichi and Takeuchi

Japanese View, Yale University, Southeast Asia Studies,

Tasuji,

The Philippine

Monograph

Haven, 1967), p. 98. 29 See Kit Machado, “Changing Aspects of Factionalism Asian Survey 11 (December 1971), 1194.

Series no.

Polity: 1

A

(New

in Philippine Local Politics,”

92

Filipino Politics

tendencies. In 1967 the

mayor received considerable power of appoint-

ment, giving him for the hrst time substantial administrative control over city government. The chartered cities also increased their hscal autonomy over the years. Progress toward greater local autonomy was due particularly to the perserverance of two senators, Manuel Manahan and Raul Manglapus, who orated, pleaded, and twisted arms for more than two years even after a presidential veto to get Congress to pass the Decentralization Act of 1967. Politicians in both the executive and the legislative branches realized that theirs was an attempt to alter a basic dimension of the political system, weakening local dependence on patronage and pork barrel from the center. Many recognized at the same time that constituency demands were becoming an unbearable burden on congressmen and might be lightened by providing local government with greater resources. The president may ultimately have allowed the bill to become law because he foresaw a weakening of legislators’ political control. If so, he was disappointed. In 1967 the political game of releases for local governments was abolished; funds were to be directly and automatically allotted to city, municipal, and provincial treasurers (but the reform was only partially implemented). While some nonhscal evidence suggests that the Decentralization Act slowed a seemingly inexorable centralizing trend, 55 percent of all local government revenue came in 1972 from national taxes, compared with 35 percent in 1960.^^ For local governments everywhere, revenues grow more slowly than need. The crux of the problem in the Philippines was the collection of real property taxes, the primary direct source of revenue for provinces and municipalities. Despite an increase in allowable levy, proceeds from the real property tax shrank to less than 15 percent in 1970—72. Assessment was estimated to be barely 43 percent of market value in 1967; many influential landowners failed even to register their property for taxation purposes. But even when so many properties were assessed so low, delinquency ran as high as 70 percent in places, and more than half of the provinces collected less than 44 percent of real estate taxes due.^^ The dominance of landed families in local elites prevented even the most conscientious officials from attempting more

—

—

^^See

Howard

pine Cities”

(diss.,

Leichter, “Political

p.

Policy:

A

Study of

Two

Philip-

University of Wisconsin, 1973).

World Bank, The D.C., 1976),

Regime and Public

Philippines: Priorities

and

Prospects for Development, (Washington,

429.

See Belinda Aquino, “Dimensions of Decentralization and Development Philippines” (diss., Cornell University, 1974), pp. 212ff.

in

the

The

Constitutional

Regime

93

than gentle persuasion. Decentralization was thus a mixed blessing; perhaps nowhere was the interdependence of the socioeconomic and the political systems so clear. Parties

and

Elections

Elections

The impact

of elections on political parties and the electoral consequences of both socioeconomic system and cultural values are at the core of any analysis of Philippine government and politics. Furthermore, the pre-1972 electoral experience proved a powerful legacy, remembered more fondly as time passed, with which the authoritarian

regime found

it

difficult to cope.

Under

the 1935 constitution presidents and congressmen were elected every four years, one-third of the Senate every two years. Governors, mayors, and other local officials were elected in nonpresidential years along with eight senators. Election day was

—

—

in a slavish

copy of the United States the second Tuesday in November. (Barrio councillors, however, were elected in January.) The 1935 constitution confirmed suffrage for literate male citizens over twenty one years of age; women were enfranchised two years later. The ability to write one’s name, no matter how shakily, and to prepare one’s own ballot was almost invariably accepted as proof of literacy. By 1971 registered Filipino voters, numbering 9.4 million, constituted almost 60 percent of the adult population, approximately the same as in the United States.

The

participation rate was

all

the

more remarkable

for the peculiar

of the Philippine ballot. In 1971 it still printed neither candidates nor parties, only the title of the office and spaces in which to write the name of the preferred candidate. Writing ability was crucial, and this type of ballot provided endless opportunities for corruption. Philippine elections were administered by an independent Commission on Elections, as insulated as possible from politics by constitutional provision. The commission was composed of a chairman and two members, appointed by the president for nine years and ineligible for reappointment. The COMELEC was given by the constitution “exclusive charge of the enforcement and administration of all laws reladifficulty

^^For an account of the administrative problems of local tax assessment and collection see Raul de Guzman and Prosperina Topales, eds., Philippine Local Government: Issues and Prospects (Manila: University of the Philippines, College of Public Administration, 1973), pp. 103ff.

^^COMELEC,

Report on Printing, 1973), p. 364.

.

.

.

the Election

.

.

.

on November

8,

1971 (Manila: Bureau of

94

Filipino Politics

All law enforcement agencies and conduct of elections. instrumentalities of the Government, when so required by the Commission, shall act as its deputies for the purpose of insuring free, orderly and honest elections.” Election probity largely hinged on an appendage of the commission, the precinct board of inspectors. Before 1951 the boards were made up of one minority and two majority party inspectors. Most inspectors worked for partisan advantage; a single minority voice was a feeble defence against fraud. In 1951 Congress, sobered by the “rape of democracy” in the 1949 elections, made substantial changes. Among other things, the second majority party inspector was replaced on precinct boards by a nonpartisan school teacher as chairman. The allocation of election inspectors only to the two largest political parties was often cited as bolstering a two-party system, since the inspectors administered both the actual voting and the counting of tive to the

.

.

.

Written ballots allowed the wielding of considerable discretion regarding validity. But before the 1951 reforms the Election Code actually seemed to facilitate one-party dominance. Not only did the

ballots.

majority party control the board of election inspectors, but “block voting” was allowed, that the ballot

is,

a voter could write in the party’s

and thus automatically support

all

name on

of that party’s nominees.

1951 amendment abolished “block voting.” Split tickets subsequently became the most common pattern, even to the election of a vice-president not from president’s party in 1961. The electoral reform of 1951 was thus one of the most important institutional changes in the postwar Philippines, making the life of the opposition easier. Under careful COMELEC supervision, the board of inspectors became sufficiently evenhanded that in 1957 two minor parties made a very creditable showing.

The

Two-Party System

The single-member

lower house and popular election of a powerful president were more important legal buttresses of the two-party system than the election law. Third-party membership on the Commission on Appointments and the electoral tribunals of both houses of Congress, moreover, was not permitted. Probably more important than any legal determinants, however, were sociocultural factors. Third parties did not have access to the pork, the patronage, and the private wealth of which successful campaigns were made. With one exception in 1959, no third party ever attempted to contest a second national election without forming some kind of alliance with a major district in the

The

Constitutional

Regime

95

They quickly became disillusioned with the potency of idealism, program, and personality divorced from the ability to bestow material reward. A free-spending multimillionaire, Sergio Osmeha, Jr., came party.

any third-party candidate an independent in 1961.^^

closer than as

to

capturing the vice-presidency

Electoral evidence portrays the Philippines before 1972 as a two-

party system.

No

party received

more than

two-thirds of the vote in a

presidential election except for the Nacionalistas in 1953 (Magsaysay

got 68 percent). Only twice, in 1957 and 1969, did the second party

than one-fourth of seats in the House of Representatives, and no third party with more than two congressmen lasted much more than a year. After crushing defeats one or the other of the two major parties might seriously discuss disbanding, but they persevered. hold

less

The

Nacionalista party, founded in 1907, and the Liberal party,

Manuel Roxas

“wing” of the Nacionalistas, maintained viable organizations until 1972. One being a splinter of the other, their organizational structures were quite similar. created by

in

1946 originally

as a

Both were “cadre parties”: they sought not mass membership, only mass support, and were run by a small group of government officials and exofficials, the professional politicians. National leaders depended on shifting coalitions of provincial politicians and their equally unstable followings.

The

officially biennial

—but more often quadrennial— na-

tional convention formally ruled the party, but in practice

few impor-

were made by the eight hundred or more hot, cheering or booing delegates from around the country. In fact, until 1953 the convention usually gave unanimous approval to a presidential tant decisions

—

—

candidate already agreed upon by the party leadership, ratihed the presidential candidate’s choice for vice-president, and gave a “vote of conhdence” to the executive committee that picked the Senate slate from among the dozens of names presented in nomination on the convention floor. But in the late 1950s and 1960s both parties’ conventions made more of their decisions openly. The party out of power usually lacked a single, recognized leader, and thus the convention Another

cultural determinant of a two-party system

the traditional prevalence of bifactionalism in the typical Filipino town. Such factions, the building blocks of national parties, have been said to encourage a dual structure. See Carl Lande, Leaders, Factions and Parties: The Structure of Philippine Politics, Yale University Southeast Asian Studies

(New Haven,

is

But bifactionalism in local politics seems to be of decreasing signihcance. Modernizing influences seem to bring more diverse patterns of factional conflict. See Thomas Nowak and Kay Snyder, “Economic Concentration and Political Change in the Philippines,” in Benedict Kerkvliet, ed.. Political Change in the Philippines (Honolulu: 1965).

University Press of Hawaii, 1974), pp.

205ff

96

Filipino Politics

became

a real struggle

among

party factions.

The

increasingly lavish

candidates gave to delegates suggested that the delegate counted for something; elite control seemed to be loosening. “gifts” that

The

executive committee was clearly the most powerful body within

was composed of approximately equal numbers of senrepresentatives, governors, and nonofhcials: 56 in all for the

the party. ators,

It

Liberals in 1971, usually a

much

smaller

number

for the Nacioinalistas.

The

executive committee ruled the party out of

ple,

the Liberals’ executive committee was reported as having “ap-

power and could wield considerable influence even over a weak president. In 1953, for exam-

The role of the party presidency fluctupointed” a cabinet member. ated. When the president of- the republic decided to run his party, however, there was no stopping him. Nomination by a major party was essential for election to the presidency or vice-presidency, and the rule was nearly as ironclad for the Senate. But party influence over House races was minimal. In effect. House candidates who needed party campaign funds respected the party executive, but candidates who were wealthy or had a strong local organization would run with the party label whether they had official blessing or not. As a result, there were often several candidates for one seat.

After election, whether they had been official candidates or not, congressmen felt no obligation to their party which was contrary to selfinterest. In 1961, for instance, within about a month of Macapagal’s election to the presidency, one Nacionalista senator, several representatives, seven provincial governors, more than one hundred municipal

mayors, and thousands of other municipal and barrio officials were reported to have taken an oath of loyalty to the Liberal party. Thereafter the process snowballed. Some claimed unfair treatment from the Nacionalistas, but most needed no excuse. Said one very candid mayor: “Let’s face it. When you are not in the majority party, you don’t get anything from Malacanang. You don’t get pork barrel releases. No improvement in your town, so, no reelection. Party switching thus revealed the character of Philippine parties as hierarchies of patronclient networks. Local officials switched because their patrons in Congress had switched, and the parties could not survive the collapse of hope for future material reward. Indeed, so important was access to material benefits that one is inclined to ask why so few crossed the aisle. The answer lay in the absolute limit on even the president’s resources

Manila Times, April 26, 1953.

Quoted

in Grossholtz, p. 146.

The

and

in the principle of the

Constitutional

“minimum winning

coalition.

Regime

97

The

presi-

dent sought a working majority of supporters in Congress, but the larger that majority the smaller was the reward for any one member. Thus in 1967, for instance, long-time Nacionalistas sought to keep newcomers to the minimum necessary for a comfortable majority. There is a point at which new people add nothing to a party’s power but detract

from

its utility

for existing

members.

on occasion reached the highest level of Filipino politics. Roxas broke from the Nacionalistas to form his own party in 1946; Magsaysay left Quirino’s cabinet to become a Nacionalista shortly Party switching

before the nominating convention in 1953 because party leaders decided he was the only person who could defeat Quirino. And Marcos, who had been president of the Liberal party during the early part of Macapagal’s administration, switched to the Nacionalistas when he found that Macapagal was determined to run for re-election. What, then, was the difference between Liberals and Nacionalistas? One high school student in the late 1960s summed up a growing cynicism: “I do not believe one species of mud can be very different from another. Indeed, over the years party distinctions blurred completely. Just after the bitterly contested election of 1969, 61 percent of 83 top political actors said that there was really no difference between the parties at all.^^ In June 1971 Liberal party leaders were told to their faces what student demonstrators and nationalist intellectuals had been saying for years. The party directorate took the unusual step of giving the podium to representative spokesmen of laborers and

farmers sent

who concluded

one and the same

with an attack: “The two major parties repre-

interest

—the vested

interests of the exploitative

classes.”^ ^

Carl Lande argued that the two major parties “not only in their are composition but also in the needs which they attempt to satisfy .

representative of

.

.

of Philippine society. ... It is incorrect to But his assessment was view the two ... as parties of the upper class. a potential rather than a reality. To be sure, the major parties were geographically representative, thus helping to integrate the country. all

strata

See William Riker, The Theory of

Political Coalitions

(New Haven:

Yale University

Press, 1962).

Loreta M. Sicat, “The ‘Fair Hope of the Fatherland,’” Philippine J ournal of Public Administration 17 (October 1973), 437. 40 Hirofumi Ando, “Elections in the Philippines,” (diss.. University of Michigan,

^^Student quoted

in

1971), p. 174. 41

Quoted

42

Lande,

in

Manila Times, June 24, 1971.

p. 42.

98

Filipino Politics

The

regional concentration of political parties so explosive in Indonesia

hnding regional balance both parties ended up with candidates from the same powerful economic interests. Nor did the great sums flowing into party coffers discriminate between Liberal and Nacionalista: donors from both industry and agriculture in the 1950s

was avoided. But

in

preferred winners.

major parties attempted to meet the expressed demands of the ordinary voter, which to the politician seemed to be for jobs and public works. Even vote buying, when hundreds of thousands of people received the cash equivalent of a rural worker’s daily wage or more, could be regarded as a redistribution of wealth. But the net result was to preserve, even to foster the expansion of, an economic system in which the poor received an ever smaller percentage of the benefits of growth. In that sense it would be farcical to speak of party elites satisfying the needs “of all strata of Philippine society.” Only in the early 1970s, just before martial law, did the pattern show any It is

also true that both

signs of change.

programs and certainly not through ideological appeals, how did the two main Filipino parties attract electoral support? We have already mentioned pork barrel, patronage, cash, and violence. We now examine them more carefully, as well as the possibility of abandoning the two main parties altogether. If not

through

distinct

Election Costs

were among the world’s most

In 1961, by one calculation, candidates spent per voter a startling 1.6 percent of per capita national income. As another hint of the magnitude of the Filipino elections

costly.

1961 Philippine outlay, expenditures were equivalent to 13 percent of the national budget of that year.

Though pork

barrel releases were included in this national estimate,

funds were predominantly from private sources. Media costs became very substantial, but the bulk of expenditures were for other things. National candidates increasingly invested in gimmicks designed to increase

name

recognition: tee shirts, calendars, balloons, pencils,

and

were emblazoned with the candidate’s name. Charitable donations, designed to create utang na loot, took on major proportions. Churches, fiesta committees, civic clubs, and some less public-spirited groups, all launched fund drives just before the election expecting the largest donations from candidates and quite willing to publicize the basketballs

43

See David Wurfel, “The Philippines,” special issue on comparative Journal of Politics 25 (1963), 758ff.

political

hnance,

The

Constitutional

Regime

99

major donors. In 1961 vice-presidential candidate Sergio Osmena, Jr., did not wait to be asked; in at least one province he gave R 10,000 to every parish priest, apparently in hopes of “good preaching.” One significant expenditure played a role far more important than the peso cost would indicate: the printing of “sample ballots” to help voters write out the names of from eleven to twenty-hve candidates. Sample ballots were printed not only by political parties but also by individual candidates, each of whom had a particular combination of choices often spanning two or even three parties, thus indicating the importance of private deals over party discipline. A major task of village-level patrons (liders) was to have sample ballots distributed to followers, especially on election day near the polls. The major portion of a candidate’s funds went to his local liders. If

—

candidates for municipal or barrio office themselves, liders kept a portion and passed the rest on to their subordinates. In small towns and

funds were spent in ways nicely described by (unenforced) provisions of the Election Code: “It is unlawful for any candidate, political committee, voter or any other person to give or accept, free of charge, directly or indirectly, transportation, food or dinks during a public meeting in favor of any or several candidates and during the three hours before and after such a meeting” (Sec. 51). An invitation to a feast is a centuries-old tradition in the Philippines by which potential leaders gain support. Section 49 of the code prohibited an equally widespread practice: “It is unlawful for any person to make or offer to make an expenditure ... to any person to induce one either to vote or withhold his vote, or to vote for or against any candidate.” Vote buying nevertheless involved perhaps one-fourth of the electorate. The price of a vote varied greatly, depending on the affluence of the candidate and the closeness of the race, but it rose steadily everywhere, often reaching as much as the daily wage. The price rose because seeing that a vote stayed bought became increasingly difficult, a result both of the improved honesty of election administration, resulting in a more truly secret ballot, and of the declining sense of obligation by voters toward liders. The political lider was not an all-purpose patron; he provided specihc services in return for specihc support. If the voter regarded services as inadequate not enough public works jobs or insufficient protection from the harassment of the constabulary or was disappointed by the price for the vote, he would not provide the lider with the support requested. Various techniques were developed to counter this tendency. One-half of the promised amount might be paid before the election, the other half on presentation of proof of having voted “right” (for example, a carbon villages, election

—

—

— 100

Filipino Politics

buyers graciously providing the carbon). Many voters took money from more than one candidate and often from those competing for the same office. This “shameless” behavior, which, in fact, no longer produced a sense of shame, was a further manifestation of the long-term disintegration of the patron-client relationship. Did this attitude change substantially affect the level of electoral costs? In the eight-year interval between the election of Magsaysay and the victory of Macapagal in 1961, presidential campaign expenditures rose more than tenfold. Senatorial campaign expenses rose nearly as fast, but for the House only sixfold. Some observers estimated the tab for all candidates at for the 1969 election including pork barrel nearly FI billion, almost one-fourth of the national budget for that year and nearly twice the percentage in 1961. The aftermath of 1961 was a sober reassessment of election costs; that of 1969 may have been the end of free elections altogether. In any case, the rate of increase in election costs was a matter of intense concern for all types of politicians. With the electorate growing and the voter’s sense of obligation waning, there was every reason to expect election costs to continue to rise, and at an increasing rate.^'^ Charisma might have substituted for money, but after the death of Magsaysay it was sparsely distributed among Filipino presidential aspirants (until Aquino). The only other signihcant alternatives were violence, the threat of violence, and the introduction of issue-oriented

copy of the

ballot, the

—

—

politics.

Third

The

Parties

early 1960s gave rise to hopes for a

more modern

political style.

An

important basis for those hopes was the emergence of policyconscious third parties. To be sure, not all third parties had been of this type. The presidential candidacy in 1949 of Senate president Avelino the man who answered a journalist’s query about corruption charges by saying, “What are we in power for?” resulted from a factional hght within the Liberal party. The Democrats broke away from the Liberal party in 1953 on a calculation of interest by the sugar bloc, as well as personal rivalry, and they quickly joined the Nacionalistas.

—

Three minor

however, offered a relatively clear-cut policy alternative. The hrst was the Democratic Alliance, conceived by the Communist party in 1944, which had a mass base in Huk-dominated

sity

parties,

Snyder, pp. 219ff. Louis Benson, “Political Leadership through of Hawaii, 1970), p. 166.

Political

Liders

.

.

(diss..

Univer-

The

Constitutional

Regime

101

Central Luzon but which also included many progressive intellectuals and urban labor unions. Its leader was a distinguished judge, Jesus Barrera, who later became secretary of justice, and its national ex-

members of prominent families. own national candidate in 1946 but

ecutive included other left-leaning

The

Alliance did not offer

its

supported the unsuccessful Nacionalista presidential bid by Sergio

Osmeha and

Senate slate. It did elect six representatives from Central Luzon, however, including Huk supremo Luis Taruc, running on a platform against Japanese collaborators and for nationalism and agrarian reform. But President Roxas’s determination to push through his

a constitutional

amendment

victorious majority in the

and

giving Americans parity rights caused the

House

Electoral Tribunal to disqualify Taruc

Democratic Alliance colleagues, whose vehement opposition to parity could have been the margin of defeat for the amendment. The Alliance’s urban wing put up candidates in 1947, in coalition with the Nacionalistas, but the subsequent intensihcation of the Huk rebellion caused it to disband.^® Two subsequent third parties put up presidential candidates in 1957. One emphasized nationalism, the other social reform. Senator Claro Recto became a vigorous critic of Magsaysay’s cozy alliance with the Americans. But ambition as well as ideology impelled him to form his own Nationalist Citizens’ party in 1957, joining with Senator Lorenzo Tahada inveterate critic and reformer as vice-president candidate in a ticket that had unquestioned brilliance but little mass appeal. The party received 8 percent of the popular vote, mostly in Recto’s native region south of Manila. Soon after the election Senator Recto was given a voice in framing foreign policy for President Garcia, and in 1959 Senator Tahada was allotted a berth on the Nacionalistas’ Senate slate, ending the effective independence of the Nationalist Citizens’ party. The Progressive Party of the Philippines, by contrast, shared the proAmericanism of the Magsaysay administration. It emphasized the domestic social reform that was nearly absent from Recto’s campaign and from the platforms of the major parties. Party leaders, including some of Magsaysay’s closest friends, were uniquely fortunate in Filipino third-party experience in having a nationwide political organization, the Magsaysay-for-President Movement, which they could reactivate as the basis of the new party. In addition, the leaders were mostly alumni of the Jesuit-run Ateneo de Manila, so there was support from some segments of the church. The major hnancial backer was a new indushis

—

—

Benedict Kerkvliet, The Huk Rebellion: A Study of Peasant Revolt (Berkeley; University of California Press, 1977), pp. 138ff.

in the Philippines

102

Filipino Politics

from a nonelite family, the owner of Ysmael Steel. In 1957 Manuel Manahan, a publisher who had headed Magsaysay’s Presidential Complaints and Action Commission, ran for president; his physical resemblance to Magsaysay played no small part in his selection,^^ though he clearly lacked charisma. Raul Manglapus, undersecretary of foreign affairs under Magsaysay, headed the Senate slate. The ticket was young, averaging under forty years of age, and disproportionately Tagalog. In a vigorous campaign the Progressives did particularly well in some Central Luzon provinces that had earlier been Democratic Alliance strongholds; though nationally they garnered 21 percent of the vote, the best ever for a third party, they elected no one. In 1959 the trialist

PPP sought

a coalition of equals with the minority Liberal party but

eventually ran a separate Senate ticket under the banner “Grand Al-

Again the party was unsuccessful, and some Grand Alliance members defected after the election. But the core group held together and hnally, in 1961, worked out a coalition with the Liberals (the Grand Alliance wrote the platform). As a result, Emmanuel Pelaez of the alliance was elected vice-president and both Manglapus and Manahan gained Senate seats; in fact, they were the top two vote-getters. Manglapus and Manahan found it increasingly difficult to operate within the Liberal party, however, and in 1964 both bolted, calling themselves independents. The following year, with a remnant of the old Progressive party, they formed the Party of Philippine Progress, running Manglapus for president. Funds were scarce, organization practically nil, and issues insufficient to attract many voters from the lavish spending by the two major parties; Manglapus received only 5 liance.”

percent of the vote. Later he left partisan politics entirely, attempting to educate the masses and influence policy by forming the moderate Christian Social Movement with the backing of some progressive clergy.

had important differences as well as similarities. The Democratic Alliance, the only one to elect candidates to national office independently of the two major parties, was a broad coalition of both revolutionary and reformist leaders. Had the party been allowed a legal role in the late 1940s, some socioeconomic reform could have been accomplished and the subsequent Huk rebellion might have been avoided. But the Roxas regime had by 1948 driven the Alliance’s revolutionary members underground and its reformists into hasty, if in some cases temporary, retirement. Later minor-party leaders who did not demand radical change, either publicly or privately, found it easier These

parties

Interview with Rodrigo Perez, September

2,

1961.

— The

Constitutional

Regime

103

cooperate with the major parties, through either coalition or merger. Only Raul Manglapus sustained a political role heading a “nonpolitical” movement even after leaving public office. to

—

—

Whatever

were all background, who were working

their ideological differences, third-party leaders

mostly middle-class in for change in both policy and institutional processes. Existing institutions created the opportunity for challenge. But when the challenge seemed too successful, and thus threatening, as in 1946, the ruling elite ignored procedural norms to crush it. More modest challengers could be coopted and then stifled or ignored. aspiring

elites,

Political

Violence

In some parts of the Philippines violence was more significant than issue-oriented politics. Often associated with fraud, violence cannot be

explained entirely in

political terms; the Philippines

has long been a

guns increased after the war (largely because of U.S. abandonment of war surplus in 1946) making violence more deadly. In 1965 the national homicide rate was 35 per 100,000 (compared with 29 for Thailand, 28 for Burma, and 25 for Colombia in the time of “La Violencia”). In the late 1960s the rate climbed further. Ilocos Sur was long regarded as one of the most violent provinces in the Philippines, in part a carryover from the bloody settling of scores that followed Japanese occupation. The personal honor derived from revenge kept the vicious cycle going. In 1965, the year Marcos was first elected president, there were nearly one hundred violent deaths in the province during the last quarter of the year.'^® That number was then an all-time high, only exceeded in 1969 when Marcos was reelected. Other notably violent provinces were Cavite, near Manila, and Lanao and Cotabato in Mindanao. Though records are haphazard, a few hundred political deaths were associated with each biennial campaign in the 1960s. As this slaughter was geographically concentrated, however, most Philippine municipalities were free from it. Some portion of the incidents were personal quarrels; politics happened to be the seasonal subject of a heated argument that resulted in a shooting or a stabbing. Most deaths were premeditated, however, assassinations by the hired thugs of local political leaders taking revenge against a rival leader or his thugs. It was not a game for fainthearted relatively violent society. Per capita possession of

A. Averch, F. H. Denton, and J. E. Koehler, A Crisis of Ambiguity: Political and Economic Development in the Philippines (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, R-473-AID, January 1970) p. 191.

104

Filipino Politics

—

and those who played were aware of the risks and bizarre rules. They got little sympathy when they lost. Sadly, innocent bystanders, including women and children, sometimes got or honest

politicians,

—

caught in the crosshre or the conflagrations when arson was used, as it was on a grand scale in the unfortunate town of Bantay, Ilocos Sur, in 1969.

In

more than

a few provinces the ordinary voter was merely threat-

ened, either explicitly or implicitly with violence. Such threats probably had a greater affect on the outcome than did vendettas between private political armies for their purpose was to keep a following in line or to keep voters of the opposite party away from the polls. Whatever its precise application, the threat-of force was a substitute for the disintegrating patron-client network and even the declining effectiveness of the use of money. As the price of a vote rose without the buyer being assured of having bought loyalty on the part of the voter, politicians became more tempted to coerce the electorate. Violence no doubt determined some local contests. But

where

its

effects

on

Most observers agree that a combination of violence, threat of violence, and fraudulent tabulation of returns won Malacanang for Quirino in 1949. Regarding the Marcos success in 1969, almost every elite member surveyed somewhat later agreed on the primacy of money and party organization, 29 percent mentioned violence, and 23 percent mentioned “falsification of returns.” Violence national races

was cited

less clear.

of victory by only 16 percent of successful candidates in that election, however, and by 70 percent of the unsuccessful, showing how vantage point affects evaluation. But this considerble consensus about the use of violence in 1969 makes it particularly ironic that Marcos won acclaim after the declaration of martial law for disarming local “political armies.” as a cause

Electoral

Reform

To many Filipinos the only alternative to the rising crescendo of fraud and violence was reform of the whole electoral process. Progressive party members were prominent among them; one of the party’s founders was Rodrigo Perez, who as member of the Commission on Elections was largely responsible for the improvements of the early 1950s. Jaime Ferrer, a Progressive Senate candidate, cut his political teeth in 1951

working for

NAMFREL,

the National

Movement

for Free

Elections, a supposedly nonpartisan but actually pro-Magsaysay, U.S.-

Ando, pp.

133, 142.

The

Constitutional

Regime

105

supported federation of citizen groups. Such civic-minded professionals and businessmen initiated various activities to support the COMELEC and local election inspectors in their efforts to keep elections honest and free from violence. When Ferrer became chairman of the COMELEC himself, in June 1969, he continued his clean-election crusade and helped to form the Citizens’ National Electoral Assembly, giving it an office in COMELEC headquarters.^^ The CNEA aimed to purge the registration lists of illegal voters, to organize groups of voters to go to the polls together (to minimize intimidation), to recruit nonpartisan watchers to be present at the polling place, and to organize

when

escorts for poll inspectors

they carried the ballot boxes, after

counting, to the municipal treasurer. Large numbers of middle-class Filipinos mobilized around the cause of “free elections,” sometimes taking real

The

risks.

best that citizen’s groups could do, of course, was to try to help

enforce existing law. Electoral law reform was badly needed as well. Some very high hopes were pinned on a constitutional convention, the ConCon as it came to be called. Considerable reformist zeal was concentrated on the special election law for the selection of delegates. Congressmen could not become delegates themselves, so legislators could correct the improper practices of the past without inhibiting their own traditional methods. The law that hnally passed was a great im-

provement on the

existing election code.

The November 1970

election to the

.

ConCon was unique

in

being

much number of

nonpartisan, but the behind-the-scenes wheeling and dealing, so a part of Filipino party campaigning, persisted.

candidates

— 2,482 for 320

seats

The

very

—was the best protection against par-

machine by the pull of perseveral candidates, and also expressed the lively

tisanship, fracturing almost every political

sonal obligations to

ConCon. Despite the multiplicity of candidates, the complexity of the issues, and the relative inactivity of party liders, public interest in the

the turnout was 68 percent of registered voters.

The 1970

election was unique also in that the

ConCon was

well-

apportioned by population, which meant much greater urban representation than in the Congress. More populous congressional constituencies such as those in the Manila suburbs were made multimember delegate districts, increasing the opportunity for minority voices to be elected. That opportunity became a reality.

—

—

^^See

COMELEC,

Printing, 1971),

Report

Appendix

.

V.

.

.

on

the Election [of]

November 11, 1969 (Manila: Bureau of

106

Filipino Politics

The

COMELEC used new powers in extraordinary efforts to prevent

reduce spending.^ By all accounts it was quite successful. Though the leadership of Chairman Ferrer was important, the success depended primarily on schoolteachers and ROTC cadets who were paid a pittance and often risked their necks to resist intimidation or to report fraudulent practices. As a result, the Commission on Elections recommended that all the reforms incorporated in the 1970 election law, and more, be made a permanent part of the Revised Election Code. But Congressmen legislating the terms of their own political survival lost some of their zeal for reform. Some important gains were nevertheless retained; the 1971 local and senatorial elections were a great improvement over 1969, even though local races had regularly been contested even more bitterly than national ones and political gang violence continued to be a serious problem. Commission on Elections could much more easily reduce fraud than control violence. Indeed, large-scale violence made electoral reform irrelevant. Ironically, reformers may even have helped defeat their own goal of a free, peaceful, and rational opportunity for popular choice. Electoral reform made it more difficult for political leaders to know how their followers voted, by increasing the secrecy of the ballot. As a result, the vote buyer paid potential opposition voters to stay away from the polls violence, eliminate fraud,

and

drastically

^

or abandoned incentives altogether and shifted to coercion. The longterm result may have been to undermine the legitimacy of political patrons, but the short-run consequences were not entirely what re-

formers intended.

Constitutional Revision

A phenomenal

increase in the politics of the street took place in spite

of these electoral changes. Whereas in the early 1960s it was possible to describe the Philippines as unusually quiet, undisturbed by student demonstrations or massive strikes, by mid- 1972 nearly two dozen people had been killed in clashes between demonstrators and police in Manila within an eighteen-month period.

COMELEC,

Report on

..

.

Election for Delegates

to

the Constitutional

Convention on

November 1, 1970 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1971), pp. 25ff. See COMELEC, Report on .. the Election on November 8, 1971 (Manila: Government .

Printing Office, 1973).

The

Constitutional

Regime

107

Student Protests

In 1969 the rhetoric of revolution was already being shouted in the streets. The student movement had previously been characterized by self-serving groups inclined to support the status quo, but the late

1960s spawned a variety of

and often ideologically defined organizations, among them Patriotic Youth, or Kabataang Makabayan (KM) of Maoist orientation, the Democratic Youth Organization, or Samahan ng Demokratikong Kabataan, and the Bertrand Russell Peace Foundation, which tilted toward more classic Marxism, as well as several progressive Catholic groups. Student demands ranged from an end to U.S. bases and constitutional revision, to agrarian reform and specihc changes in policies toward students. Before the 1969 elections Marcos appeared to be conciliatory, thereby emboldening many students. After the election students were angered, because fraud and violence had weighed so heavily in Marcos’s victory. Students had no great sympathy for his Liberal opponent, Sergio Osmeha, Jr., an “old pol” heavily tainted by corruption. (One rumor suggested that his very nomination had been achieved with the help of Marcos, who regarded him an easy opponent. Demonstrators were simply anti-Marcos and anti-establishment.

Many thousands

idealist

protested the president’s inauguration.

Over the following few weeks confrontation reached

tragic propor-

On

January 30, 1970, six students were killed in the “Battle of Mendiola” as they attempted to march on Malacahang Palace. A temporary mood of unity among student radicals soon evaporated as some sought to provoke further confrontation. The takeover of the campus of the University of the Philippines and declaration of the “Diliman Commune” in February 1971, when students fought military helicopters with hrecrackers, epitomized this approach. Ironically, however, the students only helped Marcos prepare the ground for martial law. More moderate students, meanwhile, continued to demonstrate for basic reform through constitutional revision, a cause for which they had been marching since the mid-1960s. tions.^^

Writing a

New

Constitution

Jose Abueva, secretary-general of the students: “There was every

maneuver

ConCon, gave

to delay, if not to

Constitutional Convention,” he said. “If

it

special credit to kill

the idea of a

were not for student pres-

^^See Eddie Lachica, in Philippines Herald, June 23, 1969. See Benjamin Muego, “The ‘New Society’ of the Philippines: A Case Study of a Developmental Movement Regime” (diss., Southern Illinois University, 1976), pp. 69ff.

108

Filipino Politics

sure on Congress, they would not have passed the Constitution Con-

vention Act

at alL”^^

The

act’s

denial of a role to the Congress in

constitutional revision satished in a curious

way both the demands of

student reformers and the needs of President Marcos. The sentiment for change had been spreading even within the intensihed by an awareness of the breadth of Filipino discontent.

soon

as the

ConCon became

a certainty, Filipino legal talent

elite,

As produced a

arboretum of constitutional treatises. The Law Center of the University of the Philippines, and the Philippine Constitutional Association were among groups that produced complete drafts. Many others recommended particular articles. Some studies were painstakingly thorough in their assessment of both Philippine and foreign experience, and most proposals were dedicated to achieving popular sovereignty. The excessive centralization of power in the presidency and the penetration of partisan politics into every type of government decision were evils that constitutional reformers sought to correct. Many responsible leaders, appalled at the costs, wanted to reduce the frequency of elections. Former senator Raul Manglapus and others concerned about the need for greater responsiveness proposed a parliamentary system. Some, frustrated with the extreme fluidity of the vertiable

two-party system, offered plans for modified proportional representation.^® Almost everyone outside Congress favored the reduction of the voting age to eighteen, and most favored the elimination of the literacy

Salvador Araneta, former secretary of agriculture and a member of the 1935 constitutional convention, led a chorus wanting to exclude foreign enterprise from a wide sector of the economy.^^ Beyond elite circles hopes for constitutional reform focused on

requirement

as well.

^^Jose Abueva, Complexities of Change (Manila: USIS, 1972).

^^See Enrique M. Fernando, Constitution of the Philippines (Quezon City: Central Law, 1974), pp. 7-8,

and

Jovito Salonga,

Land of the Morning (Manila,

1967), pp. 1 16ff. ed.. Crossroads ’71, the 1st of June,

See his contribution to Estela Llenado-Zamora, Proceedings of the Seminar on Comparative Constitutional Systems (Manila: University of Santo Tomas Press, 1971), pp. 66-73. ^®See Augusto Kalaw, in ibid., pp. 85—102; Jaime Ferrer, in ibid., p. 80. ConCon secretary general Jose Abueva was particularly insistent on this and other electoral reforms. See his Filipino Politics, Nationalism and Emerging Ideologies (Manila: Modern

Book Company,

1972), 270 ff. ^^See Salvador Araneta, chairman. Special Committee on Constitutional Amendments, Philippine Constitutional Association, PHILCONSA Draft for a New Philippine Constitution (Manila, 1970). The active support of PHILCONSA for constitutional reform, given a membership that included some of the wealthiest men in the Philippines, was itself signihcant, bringing into question the thesis that the entire business community was fed up with the complexities and delays of constitutional government and thus ripe for martial law. See also Romualdo Tabuena, “Constitutionalism, Constitution-Making, and a Philosophy of Government,” Philippine Journal of Public Administration 15 (July— October 1971), 261.

A The social justice; radicals in student

Constitutional

Regime

109

and labor organizations had, perhaps

more tempered expectations. The 1970 election of the ConCon, as we have pointed out, was one of the most peaceful and honest in Philippine history. It also engendered an unusual amount of debate on the issues. Candidates were required to file a summary statement of their position on constitutional reform. realistically,

A majority of those elected were in favor of strengthening local governments, supported the retention of the presidential system with modifications, and opposed continuation in office of either Ferdinand or Imelda Marcos, as president or as prime minister. It appeared that, despite behind-the-scenes efforts to get his friends elected. President Marcos would not control the convention. But hrst appearances were deceiving.

When

opened

June 1971 former president Carlos Garcia, a Nacionalista, was elected presiding officer. But he died shortly thereafter and another ex-president, Diosdado Macapagal, a Liberal, was elected convention president with the support of delegates under the influence of Malacafiang. He was, as expected, a weak chairman. ConCon membership included seven former cabinet secretaries and twenty seven former legislators; 70 percent of delegates were lawyers and other professionals, while 20 percent were business executives. body of 320 delegates without strong leadership, assembling for the first time and faced with 5,770 resolutions in order to draft a constitution, the ConCon was slow in getting organized. Fiftyone committees were created, wtih considerable overlap in jurisdiction.®^ Plenary deliberations on committee reports did not begin until February 1972, and prior to martial law only fifteen committee proposals had been adopted on second reading. As an identifiable reformist bloc in the ConCon was far from a majority, the progressive content of some of these committee resolutions was surprising. The Committee on Social Justice, for instance, proposed that “private property may be appropriated if the public or social interest so requires upon payment ... of compensation equivalent to the tax assessed value.” Tax assessments were only a fraction of market value, and market value had previously been held by the courts to be the minimum “just compensation,” so this would have been a drastic change and frightened propertied interests. the convention

in

®®See Reuben R. Canoy, The Counterfeit Revolution: Martial Law in the Philippines (Manila: Philippine Editions, 1980), pp. 146—54. See Antonio R. Tupaz, The New Constitution: Crisis and Reforms (Quezon City: Superius Management & Investment Corp., 1973), pp. 98ff.

110

Filipino Politics

Given the exaggerated expectations surrounding the convention’s inauguration, widespread public dissatisfaction with the delegates was predictable. Student groups camped outside the ConCon meeting hall to protest. But theirs was more a reaction to ConCon style than to its limited accomplishments. Procedural wrangles, wordy debates, and unseemly conduct of some delegates after hours warranted criticism; the “parliament of the street” demanded that the constitutional reformBut the most serious blow to the prestige of ers reform themselves. the convention

came with

revelations of

its

susceptibility to outside

young attorney at Malacahang who later defected, presidential staffers in 1971 had been assigned to identify the “needs” of delegates and then to provide them with government loans, civil service appointments for friends and relatives, special clearance In 1972 Ferdinand and Imelda Marthrough customs, and so forth. cos turned to more direct approaches, at dinner for groups of delegates who were regarded as pliable they handed out envelopes containing large amounts of cash. Many invitees welcomed the extra income, but one elderly delegate, Eduardo Quintero of Leyte, later revealed on the floor of the convention what had happened. He named some of the persons involved. The Marcos administration counterattacked vigorously, but Quintero was unshaken in his testimony and was widely influence.

According

to a

Many people, according to the press, felt that delegates who had accepted money should be expelled, but nothing of the kind was

believed.®^

done. Public regard for the convention dropped precipitously. The purpose of the presidential intervention had been to halt the “ban the Marcoses” resolution, originally coauthored by Quintero and 173 other delegates. The resolution provided that no president or former president, or wife or close relative, should be eligible under the new constitution for the office of either president or prime minister. The general terms were, of course, aimed specifically at Marcos, in case of the parliamentary system, and his wife, should the presidential system be maintained. The president had frequently alluded to the possibility that Imelda might have to run, “to save the country from communism.” Most people did not believe his occasional expression of a desire to retire in 1973. So the “ban the Marcoses” resolution posed a serious threat to a powerful ambition. The president knew his men; his tactics began to work. Names began

®2For a good journalistic assessment see Frances Starner, “Instant Revolution,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 15, 1972, pp. 18—20. Philippine Free Press, July 8, 1972, p. 46. ^"^Manila Times, June 13, 1972.

The

Constitutional

Regime

111

disappear from the list of coauthors of the resolution. Support for the parliamentary system, which Marcos belatedly preferred, likewise to

began

to

grow despite the

early

preponderance of

presidentialists.

Quintero’s expose of the “payola” scandal diverted the attention of the convention for weeks, but on July 7 the parliamentary system was

—

adopted by 158—120 almost one hundred former supporters of the presidential system had either switched or did not vote. In early September the crucial “ban the Marcoses” resolution was defeated by 155 to 131, with 31

not voting.®^ Opinion polls and the provincial press showed widespread opposition to the parliamentary system. One common argument was that the people would be deprived of the right to vote for their chief executive; more sophisticated critiques feared rampant corruption when a government would survive only because of day-to-day support in the National Assembly. Despite this popular dislike for the parliamentary system, the astute Senator Benigno Aquino believed that the president might still be able to drum up enough support, by fair means and foul, to win the referendum.®® He was, it seemed, about to get what he wanted out of the ConCon. In fact, the belief that Marcos would succeed in retaining power through a change in the constitution lulled many of the opposition into imagining that he would not declare martial law.

However, the writing of a constitution was a slow process.

No one

expected the convention to be hnished by its self-imposed deadline, December 1972. One delegate even proposed a recess until after the 1973 elections, others talked of giving the voters a choice between the presidential and the parliamentary systems in a referendum before completing the hnal draft. If a new constitution were not promulgated before December 31, 1973, however, Marcos would no longer have been president and would thus have lost the advantages of incumbency.®^ Marcos was often called by Filipinos a segurista one who wants to be sure in advance of the success of his ventures. Few believed that even large doses of “goons and gold” could win an election for Imelda. Thus problems within the ConCon, despite Malacahang’s apparently successful manipulation, provided incentive for more forceful

—

intervention. Institutional adaptation to social

change by

Philippine Free Press, July 15, 1972, p. 3, ®®lbid., August 5, 1972, pp. 8, 46.

®^For legal arguments as well Locsin,

as

and September

keen awareness of

“The President and Martial Law,”

legal

ibid.,

and peaceful means

16, 1972.

political

dangers see Teodoro

July 22, 1972, pp. 2, 32.

112

Filipino Politics

requires a proper balance between intra-elite consensus and competi-

These conditions were lacking in the early 1970s. Competition allowed new faces and new ideas to appear in the ConCon, frightening to the presidentially dominated ruling elite but politically too weak to prevail. President Marcos had successfully worked to exclude congressmen, and so there was no tough experienced political leadership to forge a consensus independent of Malacahang.^^ Coffeehouse wags sometimes described the delegates as political “has beens,” “not yets,” and “not quites.” Had the president been prepared to retire gracefully at the end of his constitutional term, the ConCon would probably have produced a new consensus on the institutional framework of politics a consensus not radically different from the past but somewhat more nationalist, more socialist, and more populist, with better safeguards for honesty in elections, administration, and judicial decisions. But the consensus tion.

—

ultimately achieved was imposed, destroying the legitimacy of the proc-

Some members

of Congress had forseen the danger as early as 1970, for Marcos was trying to do what Quezon had done, control the outcome of the constitutional drafting process. Nearly forty years later, however, he found it more difficult to accomplish. More generally we must be reminded that new constitutions throughout the postwar world have almost always been the consequence of violent intervention in the political process. Perhaps no society is capable of formulating a new consensus peacefully and legally on institutions and on leadership at the same time. If so, it is most unfortunate that the voices for postponement of the ConCon until after the scheduled 1973 elections did not hold sway. ess.

Conclusion

In the previous chapter

we recognized

being concentrated within the

elite.

that

economic power was

In this chapter

the considerable centralization of political

power

we have

discussed

of the president and of elite dominance in political institutions predicated on the principle of popular sovereignty. Yet there were some attempts to make the system more responsible and less centralized, through legislation, court decisions, and associational activity. People took advantage of the opportunities created by the institutional framework to initiate in the office

^^The office of convention president had been kept deliberately powerless. See Augusto Caesar Espiritu, Parliamentary Government (Quezon City: University of the Philippines,

Law

Center, 1976),

p.

42.

The

Constitutional

Some were of middle-class background; members of the elite. Their initiatives often

these efforts. dissident

Regime

mobilization of mass support.

When

their activities

113

others were

required the were growing, Fil-

became more hopeful about the prospects for signihcant reform, and the institutions of government became more legitimate as a result. Their failures, in turn, brought cynicism and despair, though the fluctuation was probably greater among the more educated. The high point of reformist spirit and expectations was during the ConCon election in 1970, though the victory of Magsaysay in 1953 had ipinos

created a similar euphoria. Prior to those two events the elections of

1949 and 1969 marked low points, but even greater discouragement with the prospects for reform followed the revelations of the buying of ConCon members by President Marcos. (The election of Democratic Alliance representatives in 1946, and the subsequent denial of their seats, created a similar rise and fall of legitimacy among participants in one politically mobilized region. Central Luzon.) Thus in 1972 constitutional democracy was more vulnerable to violent or extra-legal change than at any time since independence. The intervention of unbridled ambition and foreign pressures could, therefore, more easily succeed.

The

constitutional period never

became

democratic because the economic elite could manipulate the system, often frustrating reform through control of the patron-client networks embodied in two political parties. Modernization was undermining the loyalties on which those networks were based, however, and so money was given to clients to bolster loyalty. Even as costs went up, legitimacy through patronage went down. Over time the elite began to question the utility of rising costs, because their control seemed to be slipping anyway, and many elite politicians were becoming tolerant of a suspension of elections. As patronage networks were being eroded from within, they were simultaneously being attacked from without. The survival of constitutionally prescribed elections in the context of considerable political freedom had given opportunities for mobilization to forces opposed to the very foundations of the patronage structures. For some members of the elite constitutional frameworks were breeding too much democracy. Meanwhile the dominant patron, the president, sought hegemony over rivals, despite the constitutional encouragement to competition among elite factions. It was only because he had succeeded in consolidating his patronage of the military to a degree unmatched by his fully

predecessors that he was able to set aside constitutional restraints to that

hegemony.

5

The Martial Law Regime

This chapter explores the institutional continuities and discontinuities across the 1972 watershed to the “New Society” of President Marcos. We focus on the period between September 1972 and 1978, when martial law institutions were becoming established. There were many alterations in these years this was the president’s style but he had not yet seriously embarked on the road to what he called “normalization.” Instead he constantly reiterated justihcations for the continuation of martial law. In 1978, however, he began a period of frequent institutional experimentation which he christened “a new constitutional order,” and which we shall examine in chapter 9.

—

—

Seeking Legitimacy

The primary

basis of his

President Marcos

power had become the

military,

but because

he relied as heavily on legalistic argument to bolster the legitimacy of the regime as his elite opposition did to attack it. Thus it is important to take a careful look at the constitutional and procedural justihcations. Nor can we ignore the punishment meted out to those who seriously challenged his claim to is

a lawyer fascinated by legalisms,

legitimacy.

There was much less congruence between formal structures and real distribution of power after than before martial law. Formal institutions under martial law were not, as in an earlier period, “limits to the bargaining process.” They were, instead, an ongoing revelation of the fact that one man held nearly all the chips. From 1972 to 1978 Marcos was subject to only the most minor challenges. Nevertheless, it is also true that he was prudent in his use of force.

President Marcos attempted to legitimize martial law through constitution and Supreme Court, patronage and the New Society for elections (i.e., referenda). At the same time, and to Initially,

The

Martial

Law Regime

1

15

and

a far greater degree than ever before, the president used the police

the military to silence opposition voices through control of the media,

prohibition of organized political torture),

and

assassination.

legitimacy failed,

activity,

imprisonment (often with

These techniques

and within

to suppress challenges to

a few years he also tried to legitimize

himself by recreating a legislature and the functional equivalent of a political party.

Imposing a

New

Constitution

Shortly after the

announcement of

martial law

on September

23,

1972, hundreds of the president’s “enemies” and suspected enemies were arrested, including more than a dozen ConCon delegates. (More

than a dozen others went underground or fled the country.) A few days later the cowed delegates reassembled; a motion to suspend deliberations was introduced, but the president needed the ConCon, and his influence engineered the motion’s overwhelming defeat. A set of transitory provisions for the new constitution was drafted in Malacanang, confirming the legitimacy of all presidential orders and decrees, and gave Marcos the powers of the president in the old constitution, and those of the prime minister in the new, indefinitely. These provisions were adopted in less than three weeks, at which point the convention returned to consider the main body of the document.^ Delegates gave full authority to a special ad hoc committee of sixteen to prepare a draft, which, in close consultation with the president, was completed within a week. (Many provisions approved before martial law were unceremoniously dropped.) The revised draft was submitted to the full convention, approved quickly, and on November 30 signed by the president. The version actually signed included some last-minute revisions on which delegates had never voted. The lopsided final vote, 237 for and 15 against, reflected the delegates’ emotions: some feared

hoped

permanent government office, since the transitory provisions made all those who approved the constitutional draft automatic members of the Interim National Assembly,^ and more than three dozen delegates merely absented themselves on the day of the vote. Constitution making under the new autocracy had taken only two arrest, others

for

months.

The

^

ratification

Jovito Salonga

posed a dilemma for Marcos,

and Horacio de

la

Costa, “A Message of

in that the

Hope

(Manila, October 1, 1975), p. 11. 2 See Antonio R. Tupaz, The New Constitution: Crisis and Reforms Management 8c Investment Corp., 1973), chap. 14.

new

to Filipinos

(Quezon

consti-

Who

City:

Care”

Superius

1

16

Filipino Politics

had to be approved by plebiscite as prescribed in the Election Code. On December 1, with thousands of political prisoners still in army detention camps, Marcos

tution, to be widely accepted as legitimate,

decreed that in preparation for a plebiscite “our people shall be afforded the fullest opportunity to freely and publicly discuss and debate” the various provisions of the approved draft. ^ Not surprisingly most people were wary at hrst, but a few began to speak out. Since no one was immediately detained, critical comments soon gushed in a raging torrent. Opposition to the draft constitution soon became so widespread, and support so unconvincing, that Marcos clearly feared that the plebiscite scheduled for January 15 might go against him. So in late December he postponed it indehnitely and reimposed all previous restraints on free speech, a postponement that seemed to be an admission of his opponents’ strength.^ But the president already had an alternative strategy.

On

the

last

day of 1972 Marcos decreed the existence of an entirely

new institution in all be composed of all

and

wards: “Citizens Assemblies,” to resident citizens hfteen years old or over and capable of acting with a quorum of one-hfth,^ with the additional protection of a decree declaring “rumor mongering” to be unlawful.®

The

barrios

city

were quickly called together under the direction of local officials from January 10 to 15. With so little time to prepare for these meetings, procedures were confused. In almost all cases voting was viva voce, and usually police or military men were prominently posted about the premises. Even when citizens did risk a negative, it was frequently not recorded. In fact, later reports have indicated that mayors and governors were given quotas for “yes” votes on the constitution. Nationally the desired answer received more than ninety percent even though, in many communities, assemblies did not meet. “Certified results” were forwarded by the assemblies with uncanny speed, and Marcos announced the “ratification” of the constitution on January 17.^ The matter, however, was not yet settled. Some oppositionists still placed hope in the Supreme Court, or at least believed that a protest before the court had some meaning. Six cases had been filed in early December to enjoin the Commission on Elections from proceeding Citizens Assemblies

General Order no. 17, December 1, 1972. "^Justus van der Kroef, “Communism and Reform in the Philippines,” Pacific Affairs (Winter 1973-74), 55. ^Presidential Decree no. 86, December 31, 1972. ® Presidential Decree no. 90, January 6, 1973; General Order no. 20, January 7, 1973. ^Proclamation no. 1102, January 17, 1975. 3

The

Martial

Law Regime

117

with the plebiscite, pleading with the court to “save the Republic from the stark reality of dictatorship.”^ The court disregarded General

Order

September 22, 1972, which had declared that martial law matters were beyond judicial review, after a few of the justices talked with the president, and took jurisdiction. But the president moved faster than the court, and in the midst of hearings a messenger brought the text of the presidential proclamation that declared the new no. 3 of

constitution “ratihed.”

The

court continued deliberations but hnally

decided that the issues as posed were moot and dismissed the case.^ However, a battery of opposition constitutional lawyers almost immediately hied hve more cases.

The

court’s historic decision

announced on April 2, contradictory. By a majority of

on these

1973, was long and complex, not to say

cases,

four (there was one vacancy on the court) the justices held that the new constitution had not been ratihed in substantial compliance with applicable constitutional provisions, but they then voted six to four to dismiss the petition. Two of the justices who had been in the majority on the hrst question also, quite realistically, held that “considerations other than judicial” were relevant. Thus the court asserted its jurisdiction, trimmed the hg leaf of legitimacy to the barest minimum, but did not because it could not require a new plebiscite. The chief justice voted against the president on all issues and retired shortly thereafter, his integrity intact. The court itself was the primary benehciary of this decision; it survived, showing at least the courage of a gentle rebuke. The two swing justices said that “if a new government gains authority and dominance through force, it can be effectively challenged only by a stronger force; no judicial dictum can prevail against it.”^® But they made it clear that it was force, not justice, that had prevailed. The legitimacy of the new constitution was still widely doubted despite praise for it in the school curriculum and official media. six to

—

The Continuing Search

—

for Legitimacy: Referenda

and

Plebiscites

After the initial plebiscite, so hurriedly arranged. President Marcos continued to use the same mechanism as a means of building regime legitimacy. Marcos imagined, for public consumption, that the referenda organized through barangays had become a kind of direct democ-

Quoted in Rolando del Carmen, “Constitutionalism and the Supreme Court Changing Philippine Polity,” A«an Survey 13 (1973) 1056. ®

®See Col. Claro Gloria, Martial Law (Quezon City: Central Law Book, 1974),

in the Philippines:

A

in a

Constitutional Revolution

p. 260, citing the decision in Javellana vs. the

Executive Secretary et al., GR no. L-36142. i^Del Carmen, p. 1059.

118

Filipino Politics

monopoly of power by the tew rich, there has been a resurgence of power of the people to determine their future,” he claimed. “Through the barangay the voice of every citizen has found a direct channel to the citadels of government and to the very heart of racy.

“In place ot this

the Presidency.”^ Express columnist

One

^

leading apologist for the

Teodoro

New

Valencia, described the

new

Society, Daily style as “the

of consensus. In preparation for the second barangay referendum in July 1973, Marcos set forth a new registration procedure, one provision of which was unprecedently strict: the language of the new constitution that “it shall be the obligation of every citizen qualihed to vote to register and cast his vote” was to be interpreted as a legal, not just a moral obligation. Failure to vote was to be punishable by one to six months in prison. Another departure from earlier elections authorized schoolteachers and other civil servants to campaign “for or against” the referendum question. (No civil servant was observed campaigning against the preferred answers.) The question for the referendum was simple but leading: “Do you want President Marcos to continue beyond 1973 and to hnish the reforms he has initiated under martial law?” Claiming an 80 percent turnout of the newly registered voters, the Commission on Elections reported that 90.7 percent of those voting answered “yes.” Voting was not viva voce but supposedly secret, yet there were many reports of local election officials changing “no” to “yes” ballots and altering tallies. After the voting, however, there was no systematic effort to penalize politics

nonparticipants.

There is some evidence that as martial law aged, it became better known and less feared. The courage to protest increased, one reason for the indehnite suspension of the unprecedented consultation, the

mga barangay originally scheduled for September 1, 1974. It was announced in June, but not until August did the president put instructions in writing. On August 8 the president proclaimed Barrio Integrity Week and created Integrity Boards in each barrio. The boards’ announced purpose was to hear citizen complaints about the performance of public officials, civilian and military, which would

pulong-pulong ng

then be forwarded to the president for action

—which

implied

dis-

Address to the Nation on the First Anniversary of Martial Law, September 21, 1973. Barangay was the Marcos term for rural barrios, or villages, but was also applied to the ^ ^

smallest political unit in

cities.

September 25, 1976. i^See Presidential Decrees nos. 210 and 229, June Proclamations 1289 and 1290, August 8, 1974. Philippine Daily Express,

8,

1973.

The

Martial

Law Regime

1

19

Planning began at the local level, but were complaints to be oral or in writing? Was proof to be required? Who was to screen the charges? Which were to be investigated, and by whom? Said the COMELEC chairman, a recent appointee, less than two weeks before September 1, “After the complaints are gathered, the President may make a decree about how to deal with them.”^® There was intense lobbying by local officials and undoubtedly by the military to limit the scope of the pulong-pulong or even to call the whole thing off. The exercise had been intended as an opportunity for local gripe sessions, focusing citizen attention on petty, low-level corruption and giving the impression of citizen input while ensuring central control of the outcome. The institutional structure was inadequate, however, for this subtle and complex task. In the last week of August a typhoon caused extensive flooding in three or four provinces of Central Luzon. It was used as an excuse for postponing the pulong-pulong indefinitely, and it was not tried again. The next use of the barangay for a referendum, in February 1975, was more manageable, but for the first time an organized opposition appeared. Marcos apparently felt that he needed the referendum to enhance his legitimacy abroad. Needing more American aid and investment, he had first promised a referendum to Chase Manhattan Bank officials in November 1974.^^ The president even claimed that he would “return the country to parliamentary government” if the people voted “no” on the continuation of martial law.^® At home, however, Marcos emphasized that he was “just asking for advice.” When the legality of the whole process was challenged before the Supreme Court, the solicitor general argued that “the referendum is merely consultative,” and the court upheld it. Opposition began to mount even before the 1975 referendum was formally proclaimed. Because organized political opposition was not tolerated, it came from the only significant social organizations remainmissal.

—

ing, the religious institutions.

—

On December

17, 1974, a distinguished

ecumenical (but dominantly Protestant) group led by Senator Jovito Salonga issued a manifesto calling for the lifting of martial law and the Meanwhile, opposition restoration of freedom of speech and press. ^^One schoolteacher attending a preparatory meeting in Bicol blurted out, “Can we make charges against the president?” The chairman was speechless for a moment and then quickly changed the subject. (Author’s observation.) Interview, Manila, August 17, 1974. ^"^See Bernard Wideman, “Marcos’ Sometime Referendum,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 24, 1975. ^®UPI dispatch, Honolulu Advertiser, January 23, 1973. ^^See speech by Senator Salonga published in Philippine Collegian, February 17, 1975.

120

Filipino Politics

was also growing in Catholic circles. On January 1 1, 1975, the Association of Major Religious Superiors in the Philippines unanimously adopted a manifesto calling for at least ninety days of entirely free public discussion prior to any referendum and supervision of voting by a reputable, impartial body. They concluded that such conditions were not present and would in conscience-“boycott the forthcoming referendum.” Such criticism was not to be taken lightly, and Marcos postponed the referendum from January to February 27. The Catholic bishops on January 31 reiterated the call for free discussion and impartial administration of the referendum, adding an appeal for suspension of the penalties against nonvoting.‘^^

This referendum asked the voter several questions whose wording and content changed several times before the balloting, indicating a curious indecision in the executive branch. In hnal form the questions were: “Do you approve of the manner in which President Marcos has

been exercising the power

to issue proclamations, orders, decrees,

and

“Do you want the President to continue exercising the same powers?” And, perhaps most important, “At the expiration of the term of office of your local elective officials on December 31, 1975, how do you want their successors chosen: to be instructions with the force of law?”

appointed by the President or elected in accordance with the election code?” Panel discussions and public meetings were held before balloting, but outside major cities the “incorrect” position was never reported. In Mindanao one Catholic bishop began to criticize the referendum on a religious radio program; the station switched him off in mid-sentence and replaced him with recorded music. The moral signihcance of a boycott was nevertheless explained from many pulpits. Marcos had not abandoned traditional campaign techniques. For instance, the mayor of a town near Manila was told that the president would make his town into a city if he could report good results in the referendum. The mayor then called together all barangay officials and school teachers serving as poll clerks to insist that the president “must win whatever may happen.” On February 13, two weeks before polling day, the president sent a telegram under his own signature to all mayors, municipal councillors and barangay leaders throughout the Philippines. It read as follows: been directed to me asking for the answers that 1 desire for the referendum question. In order that there may be no confusion in the

Many

2^^

inquiries have

Association of Major Religious Superiors of the Philippines, January 31, 1975.

Reports,

(AMRSP),

Various

The hereby declare that

Martial

Law Regime

121

prefer and accordingly request you to give the following answers: First question yes, second question yes, and Third question appointment. I am aware of the support and help you have interpretation,

I

I

—

—

—

been extending to my efforts and I look forward to your further supporting me. If my authority to appoint local officials is conhrmed by the referendum, I intend to appoint those officials whose performances have been assessed by a performance audit team and found to be satisfactory. ... I will remove those officials who have not come up to the standard of performance expected of them. 21

The

president, clearly the padrino of

all officials,

offered reward for

loyalty alongside threats for the disloyal.

In practice, the publicly organized boycott served only to galvanize the forces of the regime into action. Official turnout hgures were slightly higher in 1975 than in 1973, and “yes” votes were 87.5 percent of those voting. But the reports compiled by the Association of Major Religious Superiors from participant observers in towns and villages

throughout the Philippines suggest that the reported results warrant little conhdence. What was not gained through threats and pressures before the elections was achieved by “cooking” the returns. In a number of places local election officials did not even bother to give ballots to voters, and in many towns and villages the results were

announced before the

polls closed.

The conduct of the referendum at the local level largely escaped foreign press, but not Filipinos. The symbolic “consultation with

the the

people” was creating public disaffection instead of the increased legitimacy that Marcos had intended. Either he did not realize this or his international image was more important, for another referendum was

planned for October

most prestigious international gathering ever held in the Philippines, the annual meeting of the boards of governors of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. The referendum itself was remarkably straightforward, asking only “Do you want martial law to be continued?”, though it was combined with a plebiscite on nine proposed constitutional amendments. For the beneht of foreign observers a somewhat freer discussion of the pros and cons was allowed, but a big issue was made of compulsory voting. The boycott movement gained a prestigious recruit in former president Macapagal, but its most ringing declaration came from fourteen Catholic bishops who said, “Martial law is a regime of coercion and fear, of institutionalized deception and manipulation. We believe 16, 1976, just after the

.

21 Ibid.,

March

28, 1975; April

1

1,

.

.

1975, as reported by a teacher-poll clerk.

122

Filipino Politics

any referendum held under these oppressive circumstances cannot but The boycotters even held demonstrations all be a vicious farce. supposedly illegal, of course and for the hrst time since martial law these led to military violence, in which two people died. But both the turnout and the “yes” votes were at the usual level. IMF delegates may have been impressed, for even a tightly controlled debate, Filipino style, may have seemed free and open from the vantage point of some other authoritarian societies; however, the net result of the exercise was

—

—

not increased legitimacy. Suppressing Press Freedom and

Human

Rights

garner legitimacy through referenda, Marcos also took strong measures to insure that messages critical of his regime would not reach the public. He muzzled the press and used arrest, detention, and even torture to try to immobilize his opposition. These are the negative techniques used for creating the image of support for

As he attempted

a

new

to

autocracy.

Before the declaration of martial law the Philippine press had earned the reputation of being the freest in Southeast Asia and perhaps in the Third World. (Unpunished libel was all too frequent as well.) By the late 1960s the relationship between press and presidency could be described only as confrontational. Not surprisingly, the media were among the hrst victims of the new autocratic order, subject to measures even more drastic than those used by other Asian dictators. All media outlets were closed down. Scores of journalists, including the bestknown columnists, were arrested, along with the largest publisher, Joaquin Roces of the Manila Times. (Roces was unique in having no major investments outside his media empire; he was thus the most tenacious defender of press freedom.) The official rationale for this roundup was communist subversion of the media, but no formal charges were ever brought, and detained newsmen were gradually released.

Within days the new Department of Public Information prohibited

from publishing “materials that undermine the people’s faith and conhdence in the government or any of its instrumentalities.” But the press

this overt censorship, initially

very tight, was not needed, because the

Human

22 “A Declaration for Dignity at the Polls,” Manila, September 1 1, 1976. 23 Most of the material for this section is drawn from the excellent account by David A.

Rosenberg, “Liberty versus Loyalty: The Transformation of Philippine News Media under Martial Law,” in Rosenberg, ed., Marcos and Martial Law in the Philippines (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), pp. 145-79.

The

Martial

Law Regime

123

only media allowed to reopen were those operated by relatives or friends of the president. A few months before the declaration of martial law, perhaps in contemplation of such a contingency, Roberto Benedicto, the president’s close friend and his ambassador to Japan, along with the First Lady’s cousin, had opened the Manila mass-circula-

September 22 it was the only newspaper in town. By November the president was justifying the crackdown in terms of the need to dismantle the oligarchic structure of ownership, but Hans Menzi, owner of the Daily Bulletin, appeared to be sufficiently compliant with the president’s wishes that he was allowed to reopen. The Elizalde and Soriano interests were allowed to sell their media holdings, but the Lopez family, which owned the Manila Chronicle and a broadcasting network, as well as Joaquin Roces and his family, were not so fortunate; they suffered a high degree of conhscation. In some instances their facilities were acquired for a nominal sum by Malacahang cronies, so that the old oligarchy was simply replaced by a new, more unihed one, over which Marcos had control. In May 1973 tion Philippines Daily Express. For a while after

system of censorship was lifted, but it was replaced with a system in which the president himself issued media licenses, for six the

initial

months

The

at a time.

net result was an official media that utterly lacked credibility.

By

1974 President Marcos himself admitted that the press had become too sycophantic.

The

controlled media lent no legitimacy to the regime, for

on the regime’s accomplishments were simply not believed. Thus the rumor mills, always an element in Manila communications, worked overtime. Some underground weeklies and monthlies enjoyed an extensive circulation, and critical assessments of martial law in the foreign press were duplicated so often that they reached a wider audience than they would have without censorship. Xerox and Gestetner became subversive agents. After 1974 there was a very partial and gradual loosening of controls. In September 1975 the president asked for press help in reporting abuses of authority; Defense Secretary Enrile had already tried to assure the media that he would protect them against military harassment. But there was no rush of criticism in either the print or the electronic media. Journalists working within a high-unemployment society were understandably cautious, and their employers, publishers who frequently sought favors from Malacahang, also muted any crithe reports

Moreover, any hint of criticism of any member of the Eirst Eamily was still absolutely forbidden, and those who tested the boundaries of that prohibition could still end up in jail. tique.

124

Filipino Politics

Political

Prisoners

was not only for erringjournalists. By 1977 some 70,000 Filipinos had been imprisoned for their political actions and beliefs at one time or another after martial law was declared. There were various estimates of the numbers still incarcerated, with the president claiming only 6,000 in late 1975 and considerably fewer by 1978.^'^ (In the hrst four years of martial law more than hfty priests and several Protestant pastors, as well as many nuns, were among those held without trial for hours or even years.) From time to time some were freed. For instance, on December 11, 1974 Marcos announced on television the release of 622 prisoners though only 475 were actually political detainees. But arrests continued. As fate as 1978, 1,620 were newly detained. Very few detentions were reported in the official press, however only when the government found some propaganda value in uncovering a new “plot” and many probably went unreported in any fashion because the victim’s family feared the consequences of making a fuss. In just one month, July 1975, two incidents, perhaps typical, became known to the Church-Military Liaison Committee, then the channel through which the religious community attempted to keep tabs on detention and interrogation. In a Manila suburb hfteen people were arrested during a police raid; one young man, a union organizer in a cigar and cigarette factory, was killed. In Davao City twenty students, missing for several weeks, were located by parents and concerned churchmen, under military interrogation. Some had been tortured; Jail

—

—

—

freed convicts had assisted military officers in this brutality.^®

A

large portion of those arrested were believed to be friends or

of persons wanted by the military; they might be tortured during interrogation and detained indefinitely. Those the military wanted were classihed as “suspected subversives” suspected members of the Communist Party of the Philippines or its military arm, the New People’s Army (NBA), those suspected of providing food or other assistance to the NPA, and those suspected of plots against the president. Some suspicions were probably correct, but few of those arrested were ever publicly charged with any crime. Amnesty International reported that it had been presented with “convincing evidence” that many detainees alleged to be “subversives” were no more than union organizers, participants in the movement to boycott referrelatives

—

Report of an Amnesty International Mission 5 December 1975 (London, 1976), p. 4.

AMRSP, ‘'^^Ibid.,

Various Reports,

August

AMRSP,

8,

December

to the

Republic of the Philippines 22 November—

20, 1974.

1975.

Political Detainees in the Philippines

(Manila,

March

31, 1976), p. 3.

The enda, or

members of church-sponsored

Martial

Law Regime

social action

groups.

125

“Sub-

was the label applied, often quite knowingly, to camouflage the suppression of many types of political dissent, and torture was a “normal” procedure to ferret out the membership and activities of necessarily secret organizations. Inefficiency was common versive,” of course,

among

police

and

military intelligence units,

whose very sloppiness

sometimes made the use of torture more likely. In a December 1974 television appearance President Marcos was quite insistent that “no one, but no one has been tortured.” He was reacting to a statement made the previous month by Archbishop Jaime Sin of Manila who had lashed out against “torture and brutal killing of some detainees” by the martial law regime. More than one military officer had admitted that it was standard procedure in interrogation, even though in 1975 the Philippines was a sponsor of the Declaration against Torture adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations. The incidents that triggered the archbishop’s condemnation were particularly gruesome. One was the case of Marsman Alvarez, brother of a former ConCon delegate and antimartial-law leader who had fled to the United States. Alvarez was arrested on June 28 and on the following day was found dead, “his body bearing marks of diabolical torture.” When his father viewed the body, he suffered a fatal heart attack. Malacanang later denied government responsibility for these deaths, despite careful documentation compiled by clergymen. It took another case, and more widespread protest, to bring even the slightest government concession. On December 13 Father Ed de la Torre, S.V.D., and Father Manuel Lahoz were arrested and secretly taken to a detention center sixty miles north of Manila. Both had been Though they were not active in trying to help peasants and workers. personally mistreated,^® they were appalled by the evidence they saw and heard around them. On Christmas Day they launched a hunger strike to protest torture and illegal detention of any kind, and they were actively supported by the Association of Major Religious Superiors of the Philippines. Letters to the president came from church groups all over the Philippines; prayer vigils were held in many provinces. The church asked for an independent investigation of prison conditions, but on January 7 the military started its own inquiry.

28 AmnestyTnternational

1982), p.

(USA),

Human

Rights Violation in the Philippines

(New York,

2.

29 See Joseph O’Hare, “Power and Protest,” America, February 1, 1975, p. 67. 89 In March 1974, however, a Protestant minister was tortured for eight days,

then taken to the hospital unconscious. Reverend Taguba remained under detention for several more years. See American Report (New York), July 22, 1974, p. 3.

126

Filipino Politics

Seven enlisted

men were

discharged and

five officers

were ordered

to

Archbishop Sin praised this action as “positive proof of genuine concern,” but the outcome of the courts martial was not made known. In general, conditions for political prisoners depended on locale and social class. In the Manila area, where prisons occasionally attract foreign visitors, conditions were much better than in the provinces, and prisoners from the middle or upper class were usually treated more decently than the common tao though, of course, this was also true before martial law. But brutality was greatest during interrogation wherever it was held and whoever was involved. Mistreatment of prisoners had taken place occasionally before 1972, of course, but only after September 1972 did it become a consequence of national policy, part of the “system of justice” under martial law. The Amnesty International report in 1976 produced some immediate improvements but apparently no fundamental change. Officers in charge of the responsible military units were not even reprimanded. By 1978 incidents of torture were again on the increase, according to the Association of Major Religious Superiors of the Philippines (AMRSP). The U.S. State Department, in its annual human rights survey, noted, “there have continued to be credible reports of torture in 1978 as well as of the involvement of military units in abduction and murder of dissidents as an alternative to their arrest and imprisonment.” The only policy change was that after torture, prisoners were no longer released, alive, to their families, perhaps to give evidence to Amnesty International. They usually just disappeared, or reappeared face courts martial.

—

as corpses.

The Task

Force on Detainees of the

AMRSP

reported an average of more than thirty disappearances each year between 1976 and 1978 and a yearly average of nearly hfty “salvagings” (the dead bodies of those previously seized by police or military). The task force, with assistance mostly from European Catholic organizations, did an increasingly effective job of providing medicine for political prisoners, taking care of families in hnancial need, and making legal assistance available (with the special help of former senator Jose Diokno, himself a one-time detainee). But in the case of salvagings they could do no more than provide for proper burial. Did Marcos actually believe that such a widespread suppression of human rights effectively deterred dissent and subversion? His military advisers undoubtedly thought so, but Marcos himself was more senPhilippine Times, February 28, 1975.

The bad press overseas, and

Martial

he

Law Regime

127

appear responsive to the voice of Amnesty International. (Amnesty had an impact on the thinking of many U.S. congressmen who voted on aid.) During 1977 and 1978 Marcos was also under pressure from the White House to ease up on human rights violations. In 1979, however, after the signing of a new bases agreement with the United States, official American attention to human rights waned, perhaps because of a skive to

private understanding,

and the

in the 1970s

still

tried to

situation inside the Philippines wors-

ened.

Many

Filipinos

still

feared the Communists and thought the “anti-

dissident campaign” was justihed.

Another and growing portion of the citizenry was appalled at the brutality and the haphazard selection of victims. Detention and torture may have deterred some organized expression of dissent, but many Filipinos found in it a cause for disaffection from the regime. The opposition, both revolutionary and reformist, grew. Legislature

Most autocracies hnd the comfort of some legitimation through the creation of a powerless legislature, but Marcos waited four years to use this familiar technique. He was clearly afraid that any legislature, once created, would acquire too much power, and he seems even to have been uncomfortable with his own language on the subject in the 1973 constitution.

The

Transitory Provision of the Constitution was the president’s

source of power. Article XVII(3) provided that the imcumbent president “shall continue to exercise his powers and prerogatives under the 1935 Constitution until he calls upon the interim National Assembly to elect the interim President and the interim Prime Minis.” But no interim National Assembly was convened. Thus Marter. cos, a keen legal scholar, may have thought to provide himself with a

most

.

elastic

.

constitutional basis for perpetual rule without being so gross as a

Sukarno

to declare himself “president for life.”

not clear, however, whether his failure to call the interim National Assembly was really well advised. That interim assembly was given no power to modify or repeal any presidential acts under martial law, nor could it elect an interim president or prime minister until specihcally/‘called upon” to do so by President Marcos. In retrospect it would seem to have been powerless enough to provide a patina of legislative legitimacy for the martial law regime without interfering with the president’s actual control. But its membership was to include all the members of Congress, and that would have caused problems. It is

128

Filipino Politics

In early December 1972 most

members

Congress had been called to Malacahang for consultation and had agreed to dissolve their body, in expectation of being members of the new interim parliament. Nevertheless, some plucky legislators tried to go to their offices in the national capitol on January 22, the date set for reconvening under the old constitution. They were physically prevented from doing so by the military. Their action must have conhrmed the president’s fears of “disruptive behavior” should the interim National Assembly be called. When he proclaimed the “ratihcation” of the new constitution, he declared that ratihcation had been “conditioned” on his not calling the interim assembly a surprise to all concerned advancing the argument that he had “the authority, but not the obligation” to do so. He continued to cite the “people’s wishes” expressed in the January 1973 plebiscite and never actually posed a question about the calling of the of

—

—

interim National Assembly.

As the momentous IMF meeting in October 1976 approached, however, Marcos was embarrassed by the absence of any legislative institution and took other steps to hll the vacuum. He had already nipped in the bud a movement started in January by former president Macapagal to have the members of the interim National Assembly convene themselves.^^ On September 10 Marcos created the Legislative Advisory Council, Batasang Bayan, by presidential decree.

Convened

less

than

was composed of members of the president’s cabinet, ninety-one members of the executive committee of the Association of Local Councils, “and such other members as may, from time to time, be appointed by the President” (He chose teenage delegates from the village youth associations, Kabataang Barangay, for each of the thirteen two weeks

later,

it

regions in the country).

Members included

the president’s wife, gover-

nor of Metro Manila, and his sister, governor of Ilocos Norte. Only eight members of the old Congress (including one senator) were sufficiently cooperative to appear in the new advisory council. Marcos himself presided.

The

began with a “report to the nation” from the president, in which he said that the Batasan, though only an advisory council, would be asked to act on “the more important pieces of legislahrst meeting

^^See Salonga and de la Costa, p. 13. ^^Macapagal’s letter, stating his reasons for supporting the convening of the interim National Assembly, was published in the Philippine Collegian, the University of the Philippines student newspaper, on January 12, 1976. '^4 See Philippine Daily Express, September 19, 20, and 21, 1976. Indicative of the mood of ceaseless innovation, the maximum membership of the Batasang Bayan was increased at the last minute from 1 19 to 132 by Presidential Decree no. 1000.

The tion required by the country.” In

its first

Martial

Law Regime

two-day meeting

it

129

approved

—the contents of which were released the press before the body convened — including the R27.4 national budget and

six resolutions

to

billion

the nine

amendments

to the constitution to

be submitted to a

plebiscite.

The

plebiscite for

was a means

October

16,

announced before Batasan approval,

to replace the legislative advisory council with a

new kind

of interim assembly, to be called Batasang Pambansa (sometimes called Legislative Council not a true translation to distinguish it from the constitutional National Assembly). The nine amendments submitted to the people in this plebiscite were approved by the traditional percent-

—

age.

They included

—

a provision that “the

incumbent President

shall

continue to exercise legislative powers until martial law shall have been lifted.” Even if he should decide to remove the appearance of martial law, “whenever the interim Batasang Pambansa or the regular National Assembly fails or is unable to act adequately on any matter for any reason that in his judgement requires immediate action, he may issue the necessary decrees, orders or letters of instruction.” The result of this “constitutional overkill” was that with or without martial law, and with or without the transitory provisions of the 1973 constitution, Ferdinand Marcos could exercise for life any legislative or other powers he pleased. The toothless Batasang Pambansa was to be partially elected and partially appointed, the details to be “determined by law.” Just before the IMF gathered to enjoy the sumptuous conference facilities prepared for them, Marcos announced that elections would be held for the Batasang Pambansa by March 1977. That date came and went. Then, for the beneht of the World Law Conference held in Manila in August 1977 which, in one of the supreme ironies of modern times, had “human rights” for its theme the president promised elections in 1978. (A crowd of more than 2,000, protesting extensive human rights violations on the last day of the conference, was broken up by 300 police. Nearly 100 protestors were injured in the process.)^® This time, discomforted by increasing international publicity for human rights violations and its impact on the U.S. Congress, .

—

.

—

Marcos hnally announced the Electing the Interim Batasang

.

legislative election for April 1978.

Pambansa

The

April 1978 elections constituted the most signihcant effort since 1972 to legitimize the martial law regime. As one indicator of their

^^Philippines Daily Express,

^^New

York Times,

August

September 26, 1977.

22, 23,

and

24, 1976.

130

Filipino Politics

importance, Marcos attempted to establish a government political party for the hrst time. The barangay assemblies had apparently not served to mobilize mass support as he had expected. Ever since 1969 Marcos had consistently tried to bypass provincial and municipal leaders and lavish pork barrel directly on the barrio. In April 1975 the man who aspired to be the padrino of all Filipinos formalized in Presidential Decree no. 684 the mobilization of the mostly underemployed and often unemployed young people of the village, those most susceptible to recruitment by the New Peoples Army. Every village was to have a youth assembly, composed of those from hfteen through eighteen years of age, whose elected chairman would become an exofhcio member of the barangay council. Many incentives were provided by the government, so that in some areas the ''barangay youth,” Kabataang Barangay, became quite active. Training camps were established at strategic locations around the country where “secret” rituals glorihed Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos (who occasionally surprised the trainees with their actual presence). The barangay youth subsequently became the cadre some would say the bully boys of the regime’s effort to create a new political party. In fact, the president’s daughter Imee, though slightly over age, became national president of the movement. The failure of Marcos even to begin to attempt to organize his own political party for nearly three years after martial law is consistent with authoritarian fascism rather than with populism.^® His efforts to win referenda before 1978 were characteristic of patronage politics, and he had succeeded in demobilizing much of the participant subculture, at least within the legal political process. The barangay youth were the major exception to this pattern, and though they formed the core of a government political machine at the local level, over time it came to resemble the ruling parties of the years before martial law. The New Society Movement, Kilusan Bagong Lipunan or KBL, was registered with the COMELEC in February 1978 as, supposedly, an amalgam of Liberals, Nacionalistas, and others. Nearly two years passed, however, before it met to approve any organizational bylaws. Marcos treated it as a “party” or as a coalition “movement” as the situation required. In practice, it became over time simply a new manifestation of the old hierarchy of patron-client networks. Minister

—

—

3’^See Signs of the times, March 26, 1976, pp. 9—12. ^®Cf. Gino Germani, Authoritarianism, Fascism and National Populism,

and passim. ^^See Salvador Laurel, “The 1980 Local

(New Brunswick,

N.J.: Transaction, 1978), p. 10

Bread Alone

.

.

.

Elections,” in Pacihco Ortiz, S.J., ed.. Not by (Manila: Bishops-Businessmen’s Conference, 1980), pp. 235ff.

The

Martial

Law Regime

131

of Local Government Jose Rono, who distributed patronage through local governments, was also KBL secretary-general. “Old Society” politicians, condemned in government media, turned up as provincial and municipal leaders of the KBL. The serious hghts were within the government party, of course, since there was only one conceivable source of material reward. But as limits on the cooking of election returns were now set only by skill and imagination, distribution of pork and patronage at the village level decreased in importance.

The

whose secretary-general and strongest leader. Sen. Benigno Aquino, Jr., was in jail, initially announced that it would participate in the 1978 elections only if the opposition had complete freedom during the campaign. On February 3 former senators Jovito Salonga and Gerry Roxas declared that, as these conditions would not apparently be met, the LP would refuse to take part in a “useless Liberal party,

exercise.”^® In

any

case, a party inactive for six years

reactivated for a national

campaign

in a

could hardly be

few weeks.

But a number of Liberal politicians did participate and the impetus apparently came from Senator Aquino. Only candidates for the twentyone Manila-area seats were presented, on the understandable assumption that such government “irregularities” as ballot-box stuffing would be more flagrant in outlying areas. From his cell Aquino himself headed the ticket, called LABAN, or “Fight,” an acronym for Lakas ng Bayan (People Power). His request for release from prison during the campaign was denied, so his wife, sister, and daughters took his place at the numerous rallies that LABAN organized. Fear of Aquino’s popularity triggered some high-level attacks, and Secretary of Defense Enrile charged that Aquino had maintained links with both the CIA and the Communists.^ Aquino, however, was allowed to reply in a press conference and a ninety-minute TV interview. His retorts to the charges were sharp, but his criticism of Marcos was muted. Among the twenty other LABAN candidates were two more former Liberal senators; Ernesto Maceda, once executive secretary to Marcos; and several candidates with a more radical orientation, among them labor leader Alex Boncayo and student activist Gerry Barican. (Boncayo later joined the NPA.) The KBL ticket was headed by Imelda Marcos and included twelve well-known cabinet secretaries. Twentyfour other parties, mostly of no signihcance, helded candidates. The campaign was very uneven; the opposition had limited access to the media and was allowed to hold a certain number of rallies but not ^

—

‘^^Quoted \nNew York Times, February 4, 1978. For an account of the campaign see Far Eastern Economic Review, March

3, 10,

1978.

132

Filipino Politics

without harassment. The government pulled out all the stops, including pay raises for the civil service and last-minute voter registration. Nevertheless, didates,

and

all

some LABAN canAn event on the eve of the

pre-election surveys indicated that

certainly Aquino,

would win.

election gave the opposition even greater hopes: a chain-letter request

for a few minutes of noise in support of

LABAN

exploded into a citywide cacophony that lasted all evening. It was a unique opportunity for Filipinos to release pent-up frustrations after more than hve years of martial rule. Marcos later referred to the event as a “riot.” What happened in the next few days only redoubled that frustration, however, and destroyed whatever beneht the regime may have gained from a temporary tolerance of free speech and association. On election day opposition poll watchers were forcibly evicted from many precincts, and at others the KBL vote was higher than the total number of registered voters.

Three days

after the polls closed, official returns for

only 10 percent of Metro-Manila’s precincts were available, even though the same Commission on Elections had been able to complete the count in twenty-four hours before martial law. Official hgures showed that not a single LABAN candidate had been elected, though a few oppositionists elsewhere did gain seats. Two days after the election former senator Lorenzo Tahada, LABAN chairman, led a peaceful march of six hundred people to protest massive election fraud. All were arrested and imprisoned; the leaders were charged with sedition. Seventy-hve Jesuits, many previously regarded as nonpolitical, charged “widespread irregularities” in the election which “substantially affected the outcome” and urged an “independent investigation” and release of protesters. (The rank and file were released after two days, but leaders were held for two months.) Marcos replied that most of the reported election cheating was the responsibility of the opposition, which was inhltrated by subversives. So improbable was the excuse that even one of his own trusted newspaper columnists, Teodoro Valencia, said of Cebu that “the biggest problem in the central Visayas controversy is credibility. It is the problem of convincing the 1,500,000 voters that the results as announced were as they voted. The president apparently felt that he “could not have a fair election and still preserve the myth that he enjoys overwhelming popular support. His actions implied that opposition

^'-^Ibid.,

April 10, 13, 1978.

“^^Quoted

in Philippines Daily Express,

'^'^New York Times, editorial, April

1

1,

May

14

1978.

and

15, 1978.

The

Martial

Law Regime

133

strength had been entirely unexpected, causing confusion within the regime as to how to doctor the returns.

The

Some of the more

effort at legitimation backhred.

dates went underground,

and the net

effect

radical candi-

was further to polarize the

Philippine political scene, strengthening the Left in relation to the moderate opposition. Said former senator “Soc” Rodrigo, “Marcos is

driving the people to radicalism. Nor did the April election succeed in bolstering the Marcos image in the United States. Cardinal Sin personally presented a documented list

of election frauds to Vice-President Walter Mondale when he visited Manila in mid- April. On May 2 a letter to Marcos signed by 114 members of the U.S. Congress expressed dismay and concern over his “heavy-handed action” in the election. The mood in Washington appeared to have turned against the martial law regime.

The

Judiciary

The

President used the

Supreme Court,

as

we have already

seen, as a

major instrument to legitimize his regime. With the retirement of older justices, he was able to secure a bench much less equivocal in its justihcation of martial law.

One

of the very few institutional changes that took place in consonance with the new constitution was the transfer in 1973 of administrative supervision over all inferior courts, including power to discipline and dismiss judges, from the Department of Justice to the Supreme Court. (Marcos apparently had had to bolster judicial independence in order to get a favorable Supreme Court opinion on constitutional ratihcation by Citizen Assemblies.) This move was ostensibly designed to remove the courts from politics. But within two years Marcos announced that all inferior judges (along with local government officials) would be “screened,” to weed out the corrupt and the incompetent. The Supreme Court was promised that no judge would be dismissed as a result of this screening without their approval, a promise ignored within months. Judicial independence at every level was more seriously jeopardized by the transitory provision of the constitution which allowed the president to remove any justice by the simple expedient of appointing his successor. All other officials, including lesser judges, were asked to submit their signed resignations in September 1972, which Marcos dutifully kept on hie. Those who remained in office did so, therefore,

^^Quoted

in Philippine Liberation Courier,

May

12, 1978, p. 8.

134

at

Filipino Politics

the daily pleasure of the president. At least one sitting

Court justice, as well speak openly against

as lawyers

and

retired jurists,

Supreme

had the courage

to

arrangement.^® And if the president were not satished with his control over judicial outcomes in civilian courts, he could arrange to have jurisdiction taken by courts martial. In sum, the judicial system was as much an instrument for wielding power as it was for legitimizing it. In the executive branch the focus on wielding power was more clear-cut.

The

this

Executive

Even if Marcos had decided to implement the new constitution fully, his powers would have been much greater than as chief executive under what he called the “Old Society.” He would have continued to be commander-in-chief of the armed forces, with unrestricted authority to declare martial law and even though prime minister would have retained veto power, with a two-thirds vote needed to override. In the budgetary process he would have had the new right to declare in force the previous year’s budget whenever the legislature failed to enact a new one by the beginning of the hscal year. The appointment process was entirely under the jurisdiction of the prime minister. And hnally, the prime minister would have assumed the exclusive right of entering into international treaties and agreements. According to subsequent amendments to the 1973 constitution, he would also continue to be supreme legislator. The most signihcant change in the executive branch as a result of the 1973 constitution was the elimination of the vice-presidency. Despite the growing intensity of the feud between the Lopez and Marcos families in 1972 the highlight of which was the virtual expropriation after martial law of the Lopez-owned Manila Electric Company by Marcos family interests Vice-President Fernando Lopez hung tenaciously to his office. But on December 30, 1973, his term expired and he stepped down unlike the president. The new constitution made no mention of a vice-president, incumbent, interim, or otherwise. Marcos was frequently pressed, particularly when he talked of assassination plots, to tell who would succeed him. Finally, he revealed that a secret decree (by April 1975 there were already 93) made

—

—

—

provision for succession and that office

46

it

named

not a single individual or

but a committee. This arrangement supposedly prevented any

Justice Cecilia Munoz Palma— the only —before the Integrated Bar of the Philippines, September

Law Day speech of

woman on

the high 19, 1975, in Signs of the Times, November 7, 1975, pp. 15-22. See also Jose Diokno’s speech before the Integrated Bar of Cavite, February 22, 1975, in AMRSP, Various Reports, April 4, 1975, calling for a boycott of the courts unless judges are given permanent tenure.

court

The

Martial

Law Regime

135

—

one person from accumulating power on the grounds that he or she was heir apparent. Furthermore, Marcos could continue to argue that intolerable confusion would follow his departure -justifying extreme measures against potential assassins and other plotters. (Much later it was learned that the First Lady was named in that decree; her ambition needed to be concealed.) Then on the eve of the opening of the interim Batasang Pambansa, in June 1978, Marcos issued a new decree making the speaker, former chief justice Querube Makalintal, acting president in case of his own incapacity, and the deputy prime minister acting premier, with real power. But despite a well-orchestrated “Imelda for Deputy Prime Minister” campaign, the president made no appointement to that office. In any case, the previously conhdent expectation of Filipinos that a peaceful and orderly transition would follow the death or incapacitation of the head of government ceased to exist in the New Society. Succession remained unclear because to have clarihed it would have, in some degree, undermined the power of the incumbent president/ prime minister. It did not become a major issue, however, until after

—

—

1978. Administrative Reorganization

Major administrative changes under martial law did not result from the 1973 constitution. One gets some notion of the president’s priorities when one recalls that Presidential Decree no. 1 under his martial law powers undoubtedly drafted before September 22, 1972 had nothing to do with quelling a rebellion. The decree ordered that “the Integrated Reorganization Plan [pending for some time before Congress] as prepared ... by the Commission on Reorganization shall be approved and made as part of the law of the land.” The only net addition to the original plan was one executive department. Public

—

.

.

—

.

Information, so crucial to building the New Society image. Just before martial law a Department of Agrarian Reform had been created, so instead of the twelve departments that existed in 1970, by September 1972 there were fourteen. The Integrated Reorganization Plan was a sweeping rationalization of Philippine administrative structure which was undoubtedly overdue; it had the effect of enhancing the power of the technocrats. With the abolition of the National Economic Council, all economic planning and implementation was concentrated in the National Economic Development Authority. The authority’s director-general became a key cabinet

member,

when

A

Ph.D. in he first took his

nocrat’s technocrat.

years old

Gerado Sicat, was a techeconomics from MIT and barely forty post, Sicat had an international reputa-

particularly because the incumbent,

136

don

Filipino Politics

an economist. It was the presence of a few key figures of comparable training, outlook, and apparent integrity that made possible what accomplishments the martial law regime achieved. After this initial reorganization, new executive departments were created at a rate faster than ever before in the Philippines, bringing the and perhaps an total to eighteen by June 1974. The practical effect intended one was to reduce the importance of all department secreas

—

—

taries

and

to increase the

number of

officials

who reported

directly to

By 1979 there were twenty-three cabinet members,

the president.

in-

cluding three “ministers of state” without departments or offices to head. In the early years of martial law the cabinet screened and coordinated questions to be presented to the president. The Cabinet Coordinating Conference, convened regularly by Executive Secretary Alejandro Melchor, was composed of all cabinet secretaries and members of their technical staffs, and while it operated, the president accepted almost all of its proposals and routed more than 90 percent of his decrees through it. On particular issues the CCC established cabinet committees; but cabinet members gradually came to regard this procedure as “too cumbersome.” In December 1975, when the president not only fired his executive secretary but also abolished his office, the CCC ceased operation. Cabinet members and other officials reverted to carrying their proposals either directly to the president or to his assistants. As a result, presidential decrees once issued often had to be amended, sometimes on the same day.^^ The demise of the conference was consistent with one of the most significant trends under martial law, the concentration of decision making under the personal signature of Ferdinand Marcos. The president complained as early as 1972 that “every evening at about 1 1 o’clock I am confronted with a 2-foot pile of documents and this cannot continue. After December 1975 the situation got worse. The public justification of martial law depended more on the cleansing than on the reorganization of the bureaucracy. The New Society was to be distinguished from the Old by the absence of corruption. Corrupt practices, at least at the lower level, did indeed diminish sharply in the first several months of the martial law regime, when fear of the consequences was still acute. (One Chinese drug dealer was executed by hanging.) But by late 1973 the old ways were returning. In .

.

.

4'7See Santiago Simpas and Vivian Mariano, Policy-Making under Martial Law (Manila: College of Public Administration, University of the Philippines, September 1976), pp. 7ff. '^^See Presidential Decrees nos. 1661 and 1661 -A, January 3, 1980.

Quoted

in Industrial Philippines,

November— December

1972,

p. 8.

The one government bureau the

Martial

Law Regime

137

employees for processing papers substantially exceeded their legal income by even the most conservative assumptions. As one veteran journalist put it, “What little moral authority the regime had to begin with has been eaten away extra-legal receipts of

by that old devil, corruption.”^® The president appeared to be deeply concerned. In September 1975 he pointed an accusing hnger at those who had violated their “sacred trust” and promptly announced the dismissal of over two thousand officials, including cabinet members, bureau chiefs, scores of judges and prosecutors, and many others. The auditor general and the director of the Bureau of Internal Revenue were among them. Most had no prior warning, and pandemonium broke loose in the bureaucracy. When the dust cleared, however, it was discovered that many who were “dismissed” had already retired or died. And many charges against the more influential were “discovered” to have been “unfounded.” Acute observers opined that those actually dismissed were those with poor connections. The president’s promise of a purge of corrupt military officers was entirely forgotten. Nevertheless, the president’s efforts appeared to be unflagging. In March 1977 the Bureau of Internal Revenue, or BIR, announced a plan to investigate, and if necessary prosecute, two hundred millionaires who were evading taxes. (Some wondered whether this plan was a drive against corruption or one of its manifestations, a traditional type of “squeeze.”) By the end of the year Marcos was concentrating his ire on corrupt local officials; he announced the creation of the ombudsman, Tanodbayan, and a special court for graft cases, Sandigang Bayan, both of which were authorized by the 1973 constitution. But there was no noticeable improvement in bureaucratic probity. In fact, in March 1978 one leading columnist dared to comment: “The sad observation of many is that the New Society has not cleansed the Indeed, [a] purge should start with bureaucracy of undesirables. .

.

.

.

.

.

the cabinet.

What

the columnist did not dare to say was that the real problem was

higher than the cabinet.

When

clerks

and

division chiefs,

and even

members themselves, know that their peccadilloes pale into insignificance compared to the illegal profit of their superiors, there is

cabinet

no way

spread of corruption. Reports of “squeeze” by the president and the First Lady, and their agents, amounting to tens and even hundreds of millions of pesos, were rife in Manila. The pato halt the

Keyes Beech, in the Philippines Times, November 1-15, 1975, Manila Journal, March 20 and April 24, 1977. ^2 Ernesto Granada, Times Journal, March 23, 1978.

p. 5.

138

Filipino Politics

trimonial style of governance increasingly recognized no boundary

between the public purse and that of the First Family. So the myth of 1973, that corruption was simply the creature of Congress, was dispelled. Graft became so extensive that it not only eroded whatever regime legitimacy remained but undermined the normal functioning of government. Those who praised the “efficiency” of authoritarian regimes, in the Philippines and elsewhere, had to reexamine their premises. Local

Government

The

concentration of power in the president’s hands was particularly noticeable vis-a-vis local government. Jose Roho, head of the new

Department of Local Government and Community Development, became the president’s main channel to local affairs (he was later appointed to the post of deputy premier). Despite the media buildup of the barangay as the recreation of the ancient autonomous local community, the president held the reins tighter than ever. At hrst the barangay did not even have legal status, but in 1974 barrios were named barangays and the Barrio Charter (Republic Act 3590) became the legal foundation of the newly named unit. Where barrio officials were already elected, their terms were extended indehnitely. In urban areas, which had had no organized barrios, the chairman of the barangay (similar to a ward) was appointed by the mayor. Barangay hnances were augmented after 1972, but the manner of disbursement at the presionly strengthened centralization. In a sense pork dent’s discretion barrel was transferred entirely to the office of the president, and the barangay became the basis of a personal, nationwide political machine. By 1976 the terms of all elected officials had expired; they served at the pleasure of the president. The Department of Local Government and Community Development “audited” the performance of local ofhcials and by 1977, thirty-one mayors and provincial governors and four hundred city and municipal councillors had as a result been replaced by presidential appointees. Marcos dared not permit local elections and in late 1975 municipal, city, and provincial councils were expanded by appointment. Additional members represented the barangays (recommended by the barangay captains as a group) and such social “sectors” as farmers, laborers, professionals, and “capitalists.” Since these sectors were at best poorly dehned, who was to be allowed

—

—

to participate in their “elections”

^^Manila Journal, September

was always a matter of controversy. In

11, 1977.

The

Martial

Law Regime

139

most communities the selection process was really a backroom deal in which the mayor in most cases successfully sought to prolong his power. Far from expanding participation in local government, as claimed, this change further restricted the local ruling elite. Confusion and dissatisfaction with these elections was substantial. Presidential screening weeded out some undesirables, however, and thus direct fact, in

—

—

intervention in local affairs by the chief executive was greater than ever

before in Philippine history. Dissatisfaction with this arrangement at the “rice roots” did not abate; pressure for elections continued. Meanwhile civil servants became more important as local or intermediate patrons.

Perhaps it was in hnancial matters that local government as a whole was most fundamentally downgraded. Though the scare thrown into tax delinquents in 1973—74 helped local revenues (primarily real estate taxes) grow somewhat faster than national subsidies, in the first six years of martial law central funds routed to local coffers did not keep up with inflation. But the most revealing statistic was the drop in all local expenditures, from 23 percent of national outlays in 1972 to 12 percent in 1978.^^^ Local government had become more than ever an appendage of the center. Without an honest vote, its constitutents could be neglected with impunity.

The Budget

Nowhere was concentration of power more obvious than in the budgetary process. After 1972 the budget document itself was not made available to those below the highest levels of the administration. Until 1978 the drafting of the presidential budget was

with

its

enactment; there was

practical

little

change

synonymous

in matters there-

Only global figures for major categories, such as education, economic development, and national defense, were made public, yet these figures were extremely misleading because President Marcos had resumed the authority of President Quezon to transfer funds without The only difference restriction from one budgetary item to another. was that Marcos could more effectively conceal the amounts transferred. Fiscal officers in particular agencies knew when budgeted funds had not been received, but even they had no clear indication as to where the funds had gone. All civilian administrators had the same

after.

Arthur R. Williams, “Center, Bureaucracy and in the Philippines” (diss.,

Cornell University, 1981), pp. 107-10.

Formalized by Presidential Decree no. 44.

Locality: Central-Local Relations

1

177,

“Budget Reform Decree of 1977,”

Sec.

140

Filipino Politics

suspicion,

comed

however

the “extra

—

to the military. Military officers

money

.

.

.

midway through

themselves wel-

the hscal year.”^^ Well-

informed observers speculated that the military budget may have been doubled in some years by presidential transfer, but very few people

knew

for sure.

The

Military

The

“defense budget” in current pesos, even ignoring these massive fund transfers, grew nearly tenfold from FY1972 to FY1977, from P608 million to F5,381 million. In constant dollars that budget increased more than threefold, much more rapidly than elsewhere in Southeast Asia. In the same period military expenditures as a percentage of the total budget nearly doubled, to 22.6 percent in 1977.^^ Nevertheless, in 1977 Philippine military expenditures at 2.8 percent were still a smaller share of GNP than in any ASEAN neighbor. During the 1960s Philippine force levels hovered around 35,000, including army, navy, air force, and constabulary. By 1971 the hgure had climbed to 53,000.^® But by 1974 the armed forces neared the 100,000 mark, and by 1976 were over 113,000. “Home defense units” were growing and municipal police forces were being integrated, and by 1975 President Marcos was predicting that those forces, added to the existing four branches of service, would eventually number over 250,000 though men on active duty never reached that total. The purpose of the expansion Marcos made clear in a graduation address at the Philippine Military Academy: “The continuing challenges of subversion and insurgency shall be your prime concern as officers of

—

.

the

Armed

.

.

Forces.

Not only the numbers but the composition of the armed forces changed. Previously, twenty-year-old trainees were drafted for a maximum of eighteen months, including six months of strictly military

Harold Maynard, “A Comparison of Military Elite Role Perceptions in Indonesia and the Philippines” (diss., American University, 1976), p. 483. ^’^From annual national budgets, quoted in Felipe B. Miranda, “The Military,” in R. J. May and Francisco Nemanzo, eds.. The Philippines after Marcos (New York: St. Martins, 1985), p. 95. World Bank researchers must have found additional budget categories to aggregate under the heading “national defense,” since for 1974 and 1975 they reported defense expenditures as a percentage of the total budget 50 percent higher than did the official budget. See Russell Cheetham and Edward Hawkins, The Philippines: Priorities and Prospects for Development, (Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1976), p. 398. See also U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency (AC DA), World Military Expenditures and Arms Transfers, 1971—1980 (Washington, D.C., 1983), Table 1. ^^The 1972 budget planned for 83,000; Manila Times, November 27, 1971. Bulletin Today, ^^^Official Gazette,

May

3,

1974.

February 25, 1980,

p.

1221.

The training

and up

to

with regular units.

Martial

Law Regime

141

another year either in the home defense force or In 1972 only 12 percent of the armed forces were

But manpower demands in Mindanao and elsewhere caused President Marcos in May 1973 to authorize the drafting of trainees into the regular service for up to an additional twelve months. Such trainees could then volunteer to be integrated into one of the four services on a permanent basis. Promise of additional vocational training in the military made this prospect more attractive, and in 1974 the pay and allowances of a private, P300 per month, were trainees or reservists.®^

higher than those of the average elementary schoolteacher. The armed forces, in apparent emulation of the South Vietnamese, began to organize civilian home defense units. The Civilian Home Defense Force (CHDF) had been created on paper even before martial law, but the goal announced in 1974 was to train 36,000 persons per year. In fact, most units were organized in Mindanao, without training.®2 The importance of this home defense plan could be seen in the revision of command structures. Jose Crisol, an old “psywarrior” from Magsaysay days, already undersecretary in the Department of National Defense, became undersecretary for home defense. A deputy chief of staff for home defense had authority over the deputy provincial commander for home defense in every Philippine Constabulary detachment. By the late 1970s the CHDF was maintained as a force in being of about 25,000 rather than merely a reserve. Their presence or absence in a particular village was unpredictable, they were usually poorly armed, poorly trained, part-time soldiers, and like their Vietnamese models they were undisciplined, prime targets for those complaining of human rights abuses. Sometimes they inserted themselves in local feuds, and in Mindanao they often helped large plantation owners to eject farmers without land titles, even those whose presence predated the plantation. In the effort to impose order in the countryside, like cohorts in some other military units, they were more often part of the problem than of the solution. The most important addition to the expanded armed forces was the nationally integrated police. The secretary of national defense and concurrent chairman of the National Police Commission, Juan PonceEnrile, assured the public in 1974 that policemen would retain their civilian status.®^ By the following year, however, the president had

Manila Times, March 22, 1972. See also R.A. no. 4091. August 18, 1974. The authorized strength never exceeded 73,000, however.

^2 Ibid.,

^^Times Journal (International

ed.).

May

25, 1974; P.D. 765,

August

8,

1975.

142

Filipino Politics

placed them under

PC command. A

nationally integrated police force

1973 constitution and was one of the major The police institutional transformations of the martial law regime. forces of cities and municipalities had been hopelessly entangled in local politics and in some areas were more frequently a cause of disorder than they were “peace officers.” The Police Act of 1966 had created

was provided for

in the

Commission to try to upgrade discipline and trainMarcos was courting local politicians, he did nothing

the National Police ing.

But

as

long

as

to upset their tight control of the police.

upgrade the quality of law enforcement may have been commendable, but police integration also had its place in a larger Efforts to

military plan, revealed in part by the character of U.S. aid to “police

modernization.” That assistance, totaling nearly $1 million in FY1972, was routed through the constabulary as well as municipal police departments and was based on recommendations by a U.S. Air Force colonel

who had been

responsible for mobilizing South Vietnamese police for

counterinsurgency operations.®^ Given the power of the military under martial law and their operational control over the Integrated National Police (INP), it was somewhat surprising to hnd that centralizing tendencies were already being modihed by 1977. Under strong pressure from governors and mayors and perhaps even his wife Marcos returned a share of influence over the police to local executives. Not only were local police commanders instructed to “cooperate and/or coordinate with the said civil officials” (including the governor of Metro-Manila), but civil officials were given “general supervision” over INP units within their jurisdic-

—

—

The

dehned led inevitably to conflict with police commanders. Perhaps an even more important step toward the status quo ante was the appropriation of funds for additional temporary tions.

relationship as

appointments to the police force; appointees were, by clear implication, to be recommended by governors and mayors. The president was probably building political loyalties in preparation for the 1978 election.

The armed

forces not only grew, they took

on new

functions. In fact,

under martial law there was no function to which the military could not be assigned. Even before martial law Marcos had used the military to construct roads and schoolhouses, making it what he called a “force for development.” Public satisfaction with this construction helped reelect Marcos in 1969. He regarded the military as “more efficient,” “more skilled,” and capable of moving “more quickly” than civilian agencies; Constitution of 1973, Art. XV., Sec. 12. Far Eastern Economic Review, August 5, 1972.

The their ability to achieve

legitimacy.^® In 1974

emy

he

announced explicitly

Martial

Law Regime

seemed an

regime advised the Philippine Military Acadgoals

to “train soldiers not only in the art of war,

functions and affairs of

143

asset to

but also in the

government.”®^ Nevertheless, even under martial law the military took on only a few major governmental responsibilities outside combat areas: control of the Bureau of Telecommunications, Bureau of Posts, Philippine Ports Authority, and National Computer Center. (Military “advisers” or liaison officers were posted in most government offices, however.) A few hundred civilians were tried by military tribunals, usually including the most politically sensitive cases, but most civilians continued to be tried in civil courts. Military mostly Philippine Constabulary officers were appointed governors of Muslim provinces, and some were also made municipal mayors in troubled areas of Luzon, but most local officials remained civilians even though local commanders often exercised indirect political control. More novel in Philippine experience was the president’s instruction to the military in September 1972 to “take over the management, control and operation” of several utilities, including the privately owned Manila Electric and Philippine Long Distance Telephone companies and the publicly owned waterworks and Philippine National Railways. The military also took full responsibility for the privately owned Jacinto Iron & Steel Sheets Corporation and fourteen other Jacinto family hrms seized for “unpaid loans.”®® There is no indication, however, that the revenue from these corporations, as in Indonesia, became extra-budgetary support for the military establishment. By May 1973 the president had moved to restrict the military role.®^ He focused continued involvement primarily on the airlines, though more and more military officers also came to sit on the boards of both public and private companies. In July the president created the Philippine Veterans Development Corporation (PHIVEDEC), which had assets of more than P70 million in 1975 and had spawned nine subsidiary and affiliate corporations. (One administered a large industrial estate in northern Mindanao, another operated the only railway in Panay, and a third a joint venture with private Filipino capital was a major supplier of communications equipment to the armed forces.) Defense Secretary Ponce-Enrile was the hrst chairman of the board, which was made up of retired civil

—

—

—

®®Quoted Quoted

'm in

—

Manila Times, September 21, 1970. Bulletin Today, February 24, 1974.

®®See Gen. R. C. Espino, “The Jacinto Group of Corporations: Annual Report for 1973,” Philippine Military Digest 2 (1974), 30—33. Letter of Instructions no. 84, May 29, 1973.

144

Filipino Politics

generals and the serving

commander

of the Philippine Navy.^‘^ An-

other corporation was established especially for Korean War veterans. The National Defense College, modeled on the National War College in Taiwan, was hrst created by executive order of President Macapagal in 1963,^^ but it did not admit “representatives of the private sector” until 1973,

when Marcos expanded

its

role by presidential decree. It

subsequently served as another mechanism for bringing military and civilians together on the military’s terms. A few dozen carefully selected men in mid-career were assembled for several weeks of study and, of course, fraternization. The class that began in July 1974, for example, included twelve military officers of the rank of colonel or its equivalent, twelve civil servants, four academic administrators (including two uni-

two lawyers, one city councillor from Mindanao, and one “missionary evangelist” who was simultaneously executive vicepresident of a commercial corporation. In addition to short courses the college offered a master’s degree in “National Security Administration.” versity presidents),

Closer civil-military relations did not necessarily require military

however. Officers, their power increasing within the system, were more and more frequently approached by both friends and total strangers who sought their assistance as a patron. Speeding applications and cutting red tape often became a colonel’s rather than a congressman’s function. Officers became intermediaries in the centralized patrimonialism of the New Society. In any case President Marcos, who greatly expanded the military’s role within the political system, was aware of the appetites he helped to create. By 1974 several generals indicated that “martial law had given the AFP [Armed Forces of the Philippines] new conhdence in its own ability to run the government,”^^ though only a decade earlier the Philippines had one of the least politically oriented armies in Southeast Asia.^^ In the late 1970s it was still less overtly political than the armies of Indonesia, Burma, or Thailand, for at least four reasons: historical background, the nature of officer recruitment, the nature of training as well as other political socialization, and the nature of the political system in which they operated, including Marcos’s strategy of control. initiative,

243 and 353; PHIVEDEC, “1975 Annual Report,” in Self Reliance in Freedom: Contemporary Speeches and Writing on Philippine Defense and National Growth (Manila: Philippine Educational Promotion, 1976), pp. 261—87. See Jose G. Syjuco, Military Education in the Philippines (Quezon City: New Day, 1977), ^•^Presidential Decrees nos.

chap.

5.

Maynard,

p.

535.

Ibid.

Lande, “The Philippine Military in Government and J. van Doom, eds.. On Military Intervention (Rotterdam; Rotterdam University Press, 1971), pp. 389—400. ^“^For a similar view see Carl

Politics,” in

Morris Janowitz and

— The

Martial

Law Regime

145

The AFP were

not national heroes of the struggle for independence but the outgrowth of a colonial police force, the Philippine Constabulary, which both the Americans and the Japanese had used for their purposes. Some popular anti-Japanese guerrilla leaders entered the army after the war, but they were at the periphery except under Magsaysay. Many more guerrilla leaders became civilian politicians than became army officers. The military was a place not for the politically ambitious but for those who sought status and economic security.

What was

particularly attractive was that bright students could get a

free education in the Academy.^^ Patriotic motives were, of course, also

present.

Had

these successful careerists ever had political ambition, almost

all

of them lost it over the years. Life was comfortable in the military hierarchy closer to the American model than the conditions for most higher civil servants and training purposely obliterated political aspiration. Well after independence many Academy instructors were still Americans, and in any case the great majority of generals had studied

—

one

—

American officer training schools. Several including General Fidel Ramos, the constabulary commander. General Rafael Ileto, the former vice-chief of staff, and Alejandro Melchor, until 1975 the president’s executive secretary were graduates of one of the American military academies. Between 1950 and 1976 some 16,000 Filipino military personnel were trained in schools and academies run by the U.S. armed forces.^® Such training gave older officers a view of national and world problems very close to the official American line and, rhetorically at least, strengthened their commitment to constifor

to three years at

—

tutional government.

The

Joint U.S. Military Advisory

Group (JUSMAG) had

practically

run the Philippine armed forces in the early 1950s, though its influence declined in the late 1960s. However, in FY1972 U.S. military aid to the Philippines still totaled nearly $50 million, more than one-third of the With arms aid of this magnitude Philippine military budget. sharply increasing after 1972 American advisers still exercised considerable leverage over their Filipino colleagues. Their dependence rankled, especially among younger officers.

—

“Some Career

Attributes and Professional Views of the Philippine Military Elite,” Philippine Journal of Public Administration 13 (October 1969), 339—414, a study based on interviews with 50 percent of all retired officers who had achieved general or flag officer rank after 1945. Carolina Hernandez, “Trends and Problems in Philippine- American Military RelaInterview, quoted in Quintin R. de Borja,

1972-1980” (paper submitted to 2d International Philippines Studies Conference, University of Hawaii, Honolulu, June 1981), p. 5. U.S. Senate, Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Foreign Assistance and Related Programs, 93d Cong., 1st sess., p. 1361. tions,

146

Filipino Politics

Some

time before martial law President Marcos set out to establish himself as supreme patron of the armed forces as well as their commander-in-chief. This centralization of political influence would culminate in martial law. Marcos started the buildup with an important advantage the military’s resentment of congressional influence.

—

The

military

needed

politicians

more than

needed them. control over budget

politicians

(Sometimes congressional patrons, flaunting their and promotions, required corporals as personal servants, while others tried to protect their constituents against high-handed military tactics, earning them the epithet “Huk coddlers” from field commanders.) The expansion of the armed forces itself opened up new positions and speeded promotions. Senator Salvador Laurel charged in April 1972 that Marcos proposed a high defense outlay to make the AFP “the armed forces of the President.”^® In 1972 Marcos had also asked Congress for P300 million as a first installment on a PI. 5 billion program to create a self-sufficient arms industry by 1978.^^ A domestic “military-industrial complex” would provide for the military not only the prospect of plush directorships but greater freedom from American aid with “advice.”

This military elite thus became a willing tool for one-man rule. Some officers were undoubtedly convinced of the constitutional validity of the president’s actions; others may have been persuaded of the necessity for strong measures against what they perceived to be the threat of communism; more than a few may have contemplated the promise of material reward implicit in martial law. In any case, the high command actively collaborated in the planning for martial law.®^ It appeared that democratic indoctrination had not always been effective; as one officer said in the early 1970s, “Democratic institutions are just something we cannot afford.”®^ Loyalty, Patronage,

and Factionalism: The

Military

and

Politics

As he contemplated the declaration of martial law, Marcos had become increasingly obsessed with the need for personal loyalty from his top military commanders. No event had made him more uneasy than the December 1970 defection of a brilliant young graduate of the Manila Times, April 27, 1972. See Bruce Nussbaum, “Defending Malacanang,” Far Eastern Economic Review, May 13, 1972, pp. 26-27. Maynard, p. 345, quoting Secretary of Defense Enrile. See also Bonifacio Gillego (a former military intelligence officer), “Misuse of Military Intelligence,” Graphic, March 15, 1972, p. 14: “Military wisdom is attained in such cardinal articles of faith as: communists are agents of foreign power; there is no compromise with Communism; the only language Communism understands is force.”

Quoted

in

Maynard,

p.

517.

The

Martial

Law Regime

147

Philippine Military Academy, Lt. Victor Corpus. Corpus was a popular political science instructor at the academy who had previously served

He

was the son of an army colonel, an Ilocano, happily married, and a new father. But on December 29, when he was ofhcer-of-the-day, he opened the academy’s armory to a raiding party from the New Peoples Army then fled with them into the hills, releasing a statement to the press exuding anti-imperialist and revolutionary fervor. In succeeding months NPA exploits in the field seemed to show the fine hand of Corpus. The president put all military camps on alert, with orders to strengthen their security, and ordered a 3,000-man task force into the field. The academy commander was subsequently dismissed. With increased security, however, only one other officer defected to the NPA.^^ (The capture of Corpus in 1976 was a great morale booster for the regime.) Many feared a witch-hunt of those less than perfectly loyal to the president, but in the short run there was no shake-up. In fact, more senior generals had their duty extended beyond regular retirement date. By December 1971, 27 out of 34 generals were in the “overstaying” category. Such officers were, of course, subject to retirement at the president’s whim.®^ After the 1971 elections the president took a new tack. He reinstated Juan Ponce-Enrile, who had resigned in 1971 to run (unsuccessfully) on the Nacionalista ticket for Senate, as secretary of national defense to revamp the high command. The president announced his intention of retiring eighteen overstaying generals and twenty colonels. (When General Manuel Yan retired as chief of staff, he received a foreign ambassadorial appointment, a move unprecedented in the Philippines.)®^ In the new promotions the “Ilocanization” of key posts was evident.®® The commanders of the air force, the constabulary metrocom, and the commander of the PC first zone near Manila were all Ilocanos, as were the new commanding general of the Philippine Constabulary, Gen. Fidel Ramos, and of the Presidential Security Command, Maj. Gen. Fabian Ver. Even after this reshuffle the president traveled throughout the republic, ostensibly to be briefed on the state of insurgency, but in practice to check the loyalty of field commanwith the Constabulary.

ders.®^

Despite

all

these precautions, Marcos continued to be uneasy about

^^Arnando Doronila,

in Daily Mirror,

Manila Times, March ^'^Ibid.,

December

January

2,

1971.

14, 1972.

19, 1971.

®^lbid., January 2, 3,

and March

16, 1972.

Rodrigo Villa, “AFT Top Brass Revamped,” ®’^See Manila Chronicle, June 22, 26, 1972.

ibid.,

January

15, 1972.

148

Filipino Politics

military loyalty.

The 1973

constitution explicitly stated what was only

document: “Civilian authority is at all times supreme over the military.” In September 1974 the president felt it necessary, for the hrst time, to quiet rumors of a coup, revealing that shortly after the proclamation of martial law he had held an all-night session with Secretary Enrile, Chief of Staff Romeo Espino, and ten others. These men had made a pact that they would always submit to a civilian chief of state, even if something should happen to Marcos. The president thus assured the people that the military would stay subordinate to civilian authority (though to a military audience it sounded more like a warning than a reassurance). At the same time, during the hrst three-and-one-half years of martial law officers’ base pay more implicit in the 1935

than doubled. In September 1975 Marcos promised to purge the military of corrupt elements. The military viewed the promise as a threat, however, and several top officers authorized Secretary Enrile to submit their resignations to the President; so the plan was dropped. The Department of National Defense was left to “clean its own house,” but the results were negligible. This was an unprecedented intervention, on an issue of self-preservation. The president reasserted his authority a few months later, however. In March 1976 he retired eight generals, including the commanders of the army, navy, and air force, and reassigned twenty-one other top officers without apparent incident.^ Two years later, in May 1978, Marcos again acted as an effective commander-in-chief, retiring thirteen generals and serving notice to twenty-seven others that he also had plans for their retirement. Seven generals who had passed retirement age were given indehnite extensions, however, among them Espino, Ver, and Ramos. This 1978 reshuffle was particularly interesting because it immediately followed a speech by Marcos in which he warned the United States against any attempt to “destabilize” his regime. (Negotiations on U.S. bases had bogged down a short time before.) Among the generals retired were the deputy chief of the Philippine Constabulary and three of four PC zone commanders. Ramos, a West Point graduate long reputed to have especially good relations with Americans, thus lost almost all his imme^

diate subordinates.

^^New

York Times,

September

11, 1974; Times

21, 1974. Presidential

Journal (International

ed.),

September

Decree no. 854, December 22, 1975. The base pay of a general was fifty times that of a trainee. By the late 1970s, however, inflation had caught up with the raises and officers were beginning to complain in public. ^*^See Bernard Wideman, “Politics of the Purge,” Far Eastern Economic Review, October 31, 1975.

Sunday Express, March 28, 1976.

The

Martial

Law Regime

149

The growth

of the Presidential Security Command (PSC) gave further indication that Marcos was wary of coups. General Ver had a rank equivalent to the deputy chief of staff of the armed forces and commanded components from four services. Furthermore, the police in Metro Manila, normally under PC control, were part of the PSC.^^ The command apparently included over ten thousand men, most of them located in special unpublicized camps within easy striking distance of the metro center, who were very well equipped with helicopters, heavy armor, and fast aircraft, clearly designed to be capable of overpowering any rebellious military unit. To keep them in hghting trim, units of the Presidential Security Command were rotated to combat areas “on a voluntary basis.” General Ver was simultaneously director-general of the National Intelligence and Security Authority, chairman of the National Intelligence Board, and in effective control of the intelligence branches of the various armed forces. His sons were his deputies in the PSC. Factions, based on schooling and ethnolinguistic identity, also gave the president a certain leverage. Half of the officer corps were Philippine Military Academy graduates, the remainder mostly university graduates with ROTC commissions who had been integrated into the regular forces. Academy graduates, whose alumni association has over two thousand members, often had preference in promotions, which the others, of course, resented. In fact, in 1969 the Congress had passed legislation to make it easier for reserve officers to be integrated into the regular forces, but academy graduates persuaded the president to exercise his veto. Academy graduates do not make up a military caste, however; in the early 1970s only 15 percent were sons of ofhcers.®^

1970s the most important rivalry in the high command was between two generals who were in some sense leaders of the two groups. Though Fidel Ramos was not an academy alumnus, his West Point training was regarded as the epitome of professionalism and attracted great respect from junior officers with highly professional standards. Though his father, Narciso Ramos, had been both congressman and cabinet member, Fidel was studiously apolitical. He was also the president’s second cousin, but no one regarded his rise as mere nepotism. Throughout the late seventies, with General Espino wanting to retire, Ramos had wide support for appointment as chief of staff. His major competitor, Fabian Ver, was a graduate of the University

By the

late

See speech of President Marcos in Self Reliance in Freedom, January 19, 1976. ®^See Ronald Bauer, “Military Professional Socialization in a Developing Country” (diss.. University of Michigan, 1973), p. 51.

150

Filipino Politics

of the Philippines, the most important supplier of ROTC officers for the armed forces. Ver had actually received his commission in the held during World War II. (He later solidihed the UP connection, however, by becoming the active patron of UP Vanguards, the ROTC alumni association.) Ver’s rise was primarily a result of personal loyalty to President Marcos. He began to serve Marcos when he was still an opposition member of Congress, in the 1950s, and remained a captain until 1965. As president, Marcos soon promoted him to command the Presidential Security Unit, later adding intelligence responsibilities.

By

1970 Ver was a brigadier general, shortly before Ramos. Ver, who did not talk about his father, denies any blood relationship with Marcos, but such a relationship is widely rumored. In any case, his loyalty to his benefactor could not have been more intense. Of somewhat less political signihcance were ethnolinguistic cliques, which most often cross-cut the PMA/non-PMA cleavage. At the academy in the early 1970s both Tagalogs (47 percent) and Ilocanos (22 percent) were heavily overrepresented, each group with a percentage of cadets twice their share of the population. Together they made up more than two-thirds of the student body; cadets from the Visayas, the First Lady’s region of origin, were rare.^^ However, Ilocanos were even more heavily represented in units “important for the president’s safety.” Both the president and his Ilocano secretary of national defense understandably put greater trust in those who shared their mother tongue, but at the cost of rising complaints from the much more numerous Tagalog officers. Some analysts have seen in the Philippines after 1972 the maintenance of a “nonpolitical military,” but such an assessment is at the very least incomplete. To be sure, the military were not well represented in the political elite, nor did they dominate policy outside their own sphere, and the president continued to control appointments and retirements. Nevertheless, they had tasted power, which whetted appetites. They knew Marcos relied heavily on them. Many senior officers had become addicted to the benehts of growing unofficial incomes. Junior officers who had endured the deprivation of combat, on the other hand, became critical of policies inhibiting combat effectiveness,

and many believed they had a right to some influence on top decisions. They probably reflected the views of the rank and file. Whether profiting or sacrificing, all officers were becoming en-

See Victoria Gochoco, “Gen. Fabian Ver: Above Everything Else, the President,” Crisis of Leadership, 17th Anniversary Special Report, Business Day, p. 30. Bauer, p. 76.

— The

Martial

Law Regime

151

meshed more deeply in increasingly centralized patronage networks. School ties and ethnicity created factions, but ultimately it was the superpatron who provided material benehts, and so even factions were organized by patronage. The factions that centered around General Ver, on the one hand, and around General Ramos, allied with Secretary Enrile, on the other, became potent, with Ver increasingly acting as the president’s right-hand man. Originally factionalism may have flourished because the president saw it as a means to consolidate his own control, but in time some factions emerged with strength sufficient to threaten the very stability he sought to protect. Nor was this the only

dilemma Marcos faced. In one speech he had told the military presidency and the armed forces are .

.

.

that the .

.

.

“bonds that link the

the greatest single factor

for stability.”®^ Yet while the president took unprecedented measures to

unsure of their loyalty, and for an obvious reason: the essential relationship between civilian politicians and military men was reversed after 1972. The politician had held office as a result of popular election and through that office controlled military appointments and promotions; now, lacking his former legitimacy, he relied heavily on the military to maintain him in power. Uncomfortable about his new dependence, Marcos wanted to create the impression that plebiscites and referenda, or even elections, had

control the military, he was

still

taken the place of a competitive electoral process as the basis for the legitimacy of his authority. And he sought to create new allies in case of a showdown with the military barangays, barangay youth, the New Society

Movement,

a Legislative Council.

successfully to bring the

Supreme Court

He

worked hard and With no real power

also

into line.

of their own, however, such organizations could not balance the obvious power of the military. This dilemma would intensify over time. The rapid growth of the military affected patterns of Philippine modernization and development regardless of their relationship to civilian authority. First, the military displaced education as the top item in the national budget: if expanding access to education is an essential element of modernization, then the martial law regime took the Philippines a step backward. On the other hand, the mobilization of many thousands of village youth into the armed forces was for them a modernizing, nationalizing experience. To demobilize them would usually mean to return them to the ranks of the unemployed, and so ^^Quoted in Maynard, pp. 493-95. ^^To emphasize the point he signed the decree creating the council on the occasion of the armed forces anniversary in front of the top brass. Philippine Daily Express, September 11, 1976.

152

Filipino Politics

cutting back

on the

military

became

potentially destabilizing.

More-

over, military expansion coincided in the early 1970s with a higher

growth

rate for

GNP. Some observers even suggest

that defense spend-

ing actually stimulates growth in developing countries.

If the idea

held any truth in the Philippine case, it was probably because the military helped control the labor force, suppressing labor and peasant organizations and thus permitting a decline in real wages, which attracted foreign investors.

Conclusion

Marcos was indeed innovative in seeking legitimacy, with an idea or two perhaps borrowed from Spain, Pakistan, Korea, or even China. His basic dilemma persisted, however: the more certain the outcome desired, the less freedom and honesty that can be allowed in the legitimizing process. And the less honest and open the process, the less likely are participants to confer legitimacy on the regime by their participation. It sometimes seemed that Marcos was so eager for foreign support that he forgot that those at home would ultimately determine his legitimacy and thus the longevity of his regime. (In the short run his calculation of the more important source of support may have been accurate.) Marcos was handicapped by his people’s long experience with free elections, flawed though they may have been. Referenda and barangay meetings, however democratic their rhetorical defense may have sounded, severely restricted Filipinos’ customary political participation. Such a backward step caused unrest.

One

of the hrst acts of the martial law ruler was to reorganize the administration. He also tried to purge the bureaucracy or at least, in 1972, convinced many people that he had made an attempt. Yet administrative honesty and efficiency did not materialize; instead corrupt inefficiency got worse, the inevitable consequence of the president’s obvious intention to centralize rather than disband the national network of patron-client relations to become “supreme godfather” and acquire the personal wealth that would reinforce that role.^^® He eliminated his competitors at the national level and strengthened his own position in regions and provinces by dealing more directly with the

—

—

Especially Emile Benoit, Defense and Economic Growth in Developing Countries (Lexington, Mass.: Lexington, 1973).

^^See Mary Kaldor, “The Military in Development,” in Paul Streeten and Richard Jolly, eds.. Recent Issues in World Development (Oxford: Pergamon, 1981), p. 253. Reuben Canoy, The Counterfeit Revolution (Manila: Philippine Editions Publishing, 1980), p. 14.

The

Martial

Law Regime

153

an otherwise astute politician, this overcentralization was most unwise. A country of hfty million people is simply too vast to be run by one man; middlemen are essential both for distributing benehts and for enforcing loyalty. So Marcos had to rely increasingly on the civil bureaucracy (especially the Department of Local Government and Community Development) and the military, and even revived the role of some experienced local political brokers, further corrupting them in barangay. For

the process.

The

Philippine system was too complex and too nearly

modern

be called simply “patrimonial.” Nor was its power based primarily on an effective bureaucracy. Thus the most accurate label for the martial law regime was “patrimonial authoritarianism,” or perhaps “neopatrimonial” highly personalized for its size but more institutionalized than an Ethiopian monarchy or a Dominican or Nicaraguan

—

dictatorship.

to

6

Domestic

Policy:

and the Search

The

Agrarian Reform

for National

search for regime legitimacy, and thus

Unity

was unflagging. President Marcos paid particular attention to the legalisms of the political process, but what set him above his fellow lawyer-politicians was his awareness of the importance of carrying out policies that would help create political support. He rightly credited the building of an unprecedented number of roads and schoolhouses with helping his reelection in 1969 though “goons, guns, and gold” contributed as well. Rapid economic development was certainly one of his goals under martial law, and “Growth with Equity” was solemnly intoned to launch the ambitious economic plans of the mid-1970s. That goal was not reached, however. While growth rates initially increased, so did maldistribution. The two aspects of domestic policy most crucial for regime legitimacy were both related to the announced reasons for declaring martial law in the first place, to suppress more effectively both Muslim and Communist-led rebellions. If an authoritarian regime could have solved the underlying problems that produced these rebellions, Filipinos and foreigners alike might have excused a temporary lapse in legal or democratic process. In fairness to Marcos, solutions would not have been easy even with unlimited power, which he did not have. But whether he used his vastly augmented authority consistently in even an attempt to deal constructively with underlying difficulties is a reasonable standard for assessing what actually happened. stability,

—

National Unity

Out of a sense of separate

national identity

large segment of Filipino Muslims forged

and specihc grievances,

armed

insurrection.

a

The

movement from group identity, to grievance, to insurrection requires momentous decisions, great risks, and sacrihce. No community moves in that direction

without the gravest provocation. But

at

the outbreak of

— Domestic Policy insurrection in 1972,

many Moros

155

believed that they had

no other coax Moros

That insurrection and the concurrent attempt to back into the national fold constituted perhaps the most difficult policy dilemma for the Marcos regime. choice.

Land

Conflicts

Christian migration to 1960s;

Mindanao continued

to escalate in the late

more than three thousand disembarked every week, seeking

The government deflned all unregistered land as “public” though it may have been regarded as clan land by Moro custom and thus capable of being parceled out to settlers who satished certain

land.

—

requirements. Muslims, long bewildered by the concept of title deeds, were treated with a heavy hand by Christian law enforcement officers who favored Christian land claimants. Muslims saw surveying teams as part of a conspiracy against their whole way of life and often attacked them. Land conflict was at root a clash of two cultures at different stages of development. The legal system became a tool for land grabbers. With the necessary papers from Manila, immigrants could legally evict Moro farmers from land their families had occupied for generations, but land grabbing just as frequently victimized the poor, uneducated Christian settler. Some unscrupulous datus themselves manipulated Christian law for their own aggrandizement. Intercommunal friction was thus, in part, scapegoating by two exploited groups unable to strike back at the true authors of their misery. Land disputes seldom gained much attention in Manila, but in one month of 1962 new disputes covered 20,000 hectares.^ Precipitating Rebellion

Violent conflict between Muslims and Christians was already com-

mon when in 1968 confrontation was further precipitated by incidents. One puzzling event with profound implications was

several

the so-

which took place on the island of Corregidor in March. More than a score of young trainees from Sulu in a project codenamed Jabidah its purpose has never been clearly established were killed by their Christian officers, allegedly for mutiny. One escaped to tell a tale of unpaid allowances and brutal treatment. Opposition circles eventually came to believe that Marcos was training a secret army to invade Sabah, which he would then claim as his personal estate. Muslims' perceived a plot to break Muslim ranks by provoking a Sabahcalled Jabidah massacre,

—

^T.

J. S.

George, Revolt

in

Lumpur: Oxford University

Mindanao: The Rise of Islam

Press, 1980), p. 121.

in Philippine Politics

(Kuala

156

Filipino Politics

Sulu war.^ In any case, the people of Sulu were grief-stricken, and when the officers responsible for the “massacre” were acquitted by courts martial, grief turned to rage. Muslim students in Manila, including a scholarship recipient at the University of the Philippines, Nur Misuari, organized demonstrations to protest what they called “the worst crime of the century.” The scandal shocked the whole Filipino Muslim community. In fact, to be Muslim requires membership in the Islamic community, or umma.^ Pride in self is equated with pride in the

community, and

vice versa, so this incident

provoked a cry for Moro

solidarity.

May 1968

former governor of Cotabato province, Datu Udtog Matalam, announced the formation of the Muslim Independence Movement (later renamed Mindanao Independence Movement). Support for the movement has to be understood in terms of continuing upset over the Jabidah incident. Datu Matalam’s own initiative was a different matter, however, probably triggered by the shooting of one of his sons by a National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) agent in a nightclub and by intricacies of Cotabato politics. Though Matalam never tried actually to declare independence, later downgrading his demands to self-government within a federal system, he gave the old idea of Moro independence new impetus. Christians were frightened. The armed violence normally associated with preparation for a presidential election (and 1969 was a particularly bloody campaign, thanks to Marcos, in a province with a In

a

special reputation for political bloodshed)

came

be interpreted increasingly as interreligious conflict, an interpretation that became ever more accurate. Even with the national election completed, tensions did not ease. In March 1970 a gun battle in Upi, Cotabato, brought to light the existence of the Ilaga (“rats”), a well-disciplined, well-armed, and particularly bloodthirsty gang attacking Muslim victims organized and supported by a group of “Christian” mayors.^ Moro politicians organized, in turn, some Muslim gangs, called “Barracudas,” and gang warfare escalated before the local elections of November 1971. The constabulary provincial commander, who seemed peculiarly unable to capture the Ilaga, declared himself Nacionalista candidate for governor, but he did not resign in order to campaign. Moros increasingly saw the constabulary, the Christians, and the Manila government as one and the same enemy, and gang warfare to

Ibid., pp. 122ff. 3

See Peter Cowing, Muslim

200. "^Ceorge, p. 143.

1979),

p.

Filipinos: Heritage

and Horizon (Quezon

City:

New

Day,

—a Domestic Policy

seemed

157

be sliding into a religiously defined rebellion. Even in early 1971 over 30,000 civilian refugees had fled farms and villages to avoid armed attacks. Five hundred persons had been killed in known incidents; many more deaths had gone unrecorded. The “Manili massacre” in a remote Cotabato town in June 1971, when Christian soldiers killed to

nearly seventy men,

women, and

mosque conhrmed Muslim

children huddled in a

—

apparently for no purpose other than revenge beliefs about the nature of the conflict. Not only did the election campaign sharpen intercommunal conflict, the results did as well. In Lanao del Norte the Christian governor was reelected along with all the Christian candidates for mayor. In North Cotabato the constabulary commander was elected governor, as were Christians in most municipal contests. Muslims found themselves in a political limbo in their own homeland, and Ilaga terrorism could, at least in part, be blamed for their defeat. By early 1972 the violent incidents so

common

in

Lanao and Cotabato began

to spill

over into

Zamboanga. Despite the rising violence, many educated Muslims, even while demanding redress of grievances, of course, stressed the importance of

hopes lay in the Constitutional Convention or ConCon. Proposals were made there for minority autonomy and for respect of Islam some even spoke openly of federalism. For most Christians in the ConCon, however, these were radical new ideas. As Senator Raul Manglapus confessed: “It has not really occurred to us to recognize Muslims as they are a proud indigenous component of our national mosaic. ... It is time we did so in our own constitution.”^ The declaration of martial law and the suspension of the ConCon Filipino national integrity. Their

—

—

thus shattered Muslim hopes. for their culture was killed,

The dream of

constitutional protection

and they were asked

to lay

down all arms

—

combination that looked like a plan for cultural genocide. Here was a new and powerful rationale for armed struggle, and it was in this context that the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) emerged.

The

MNLF

Nur Misuari, the MNLF chairman, had been a respected intellectual among campus radicals at the University of the Philippines in the mid-1960s; he was a founding member of the Communist-led Kabataang Makabayan. But Misuari was not comfortable with the Marxist view of religion and soon dropped out of KM. He imbibed socialism but continued to observe regular Islamic prayers. He admired Maoist

^Quoted

in ibid., p. 186.

158

Filipino Politics

but could not abandon the concept that sovereignty was vested in Allah. In 1967 he founded the Philippine Muslim Nationalist League. At this point he was still part of the Moro political establishment, working closely with Congressman Rashid Lucman of Lanao. Yet Misuari’s notions of justice threatened the position of the Muslim elite. In July 1968 Misuari’s league newspaper endorsed Matalam’s independence manifesto. He began to talk with young followers about armed insurrection to achieve independence for the Moro nation (Bangsa Moro) and made plans to send them to Malaysia for military training. (Sabah’s first minister, himself a Tausug, had long supported the Moro cause.) Misuari himself was in the first group of nearly ninety trainees; in 1971 the MNLF was formally established on an island off the coast of Perak. Misuari was not able to hold the loyalty of all those who returned to Mindanao, however. His critical attitude toward the exploitation by many datus caused them to spread rumours that his organization intended a communist attack on Islam. It was a matter of political survival for Misuari to avoid contact with the NPA. His two closest collaborators in the beginning were actually scions of the old Moro elite. Both Abdul Kayer Alonto, son of the former governor of Lanao del Sur and nephew of the senator, and Hashim Salamat, relative of former senator Salipada Pendatun were students with Misuari, and both joined him in Malaysian guerrilla training. Alonto was originally given supervision of Lanao, and Salamat of Cotabato, while Misuari retained direct control of his native Sulu.® After the declaration of martial law events moved rapidly. On October 21, a force of nearly one thousand well-armed men attacked Marawi City on Lake Lanao but, lacking any spontaneous support, the rebels were driven out two days later. Seventy-five people had died. The attackers called themselves the Mindanao Revolutionary Council for Independence, used Muslim slogans, and killed some Christian hostages. This unexpected uprising, the final precipitant of MNLF rebellion, was not Misuari’s doing. It was led by the police chief of Marawi, who held a personal grudge against the constabulary, joined by disgruntled Muslim officials and teachers. Misuari was forced by this bold protest against martial law to accelerate his own political-military timetable. Operations of the Bangsa Moro Army (BMA) were begun simultaneously in Sulu, Cotabato, and Zamboanga. Independence was the MNLF goal. Martial law thus converted the MNLF from one of many Moro political groups, supported by tactics

frustrated villagers 6 Ibid., pp. 227ff.

and younger

leaders, into the

major representative

Domestic Policy

of

Moro

interests. Official estimates

of rebel strength ranged around

15,000; unofficial sources quadrupled that number.^

Cotabato, launched in

March

159

The

battle in

1973, gave rebels control of ten towns and

put Cotabato City under siege. The offensive in Sulu brought rebel occupation of Jolo City in February 1974 for nearly three days; in the counterattack the town was totally destroyed. Rebels, in contrast with earlier political gangs, gained a reputation for careful treatment of civilians.

The

hrst reaction of the martial law regime was purely military.

Marcos declared that the army would “search every house and village” for arms. Soon over half of all combat troops were assigned in Mindanao and Sulu. As late as 1974 there were apparently also American advisers in the held, until hint of a U.S. congressional investigation

triggered their discreet withdrawal.

Within a few months, however, there was talk of new economic programs and of educational reform. A special presidential task force on Muslim affairs was created under Executive Secretary Alejandro Melchor, who had grown up in Mindanao and had many Muslim friends. (When Melchor was removed in 1975, the Moros lost a “friend at court.”) Several new policies and programs were announced in the mid-1970s: Arabic would become the language of instruction in some public schools; university scholarships for Muslims were dramatically increased; a Code of Philippine Muslim Personal Law was promulgated by decree; the Philippine Amanah Bank was established to hnance Muslim enterprises on generous terms; and another decree recognized Muslim title to ancestral lands. More Muslims received government appointments.® It was pressure from the oil-rich Arab world, however, that pushed Marcos toward political negotiations. Even before martial law Marcos had opened the Philippines to foreign Islamic observers in hopes of laying to rest the charges, at home and abroad, of genocide, and he was largely vindicated. In September 1973 a ministerial-level team representing Libya, Saudi Arabia, Senegal, and Somalia toured the south. It concluded that “a lasting solution to the Muslim problem of South Philippines could only be a political solution, and not socio-economic and military as President Marcos appears to be wholly pursuing at the

moment.”® Misuari went to Malaysia in 1973 seeking diplomatic and material

^Ibid., p. 212. ® Cowing, p. ® Quoted in

224.

George,

p.

247.

160

Filipino Politics

Conference held in Kuala Lumpur in 1974 denied the MNLF official recognition. However, the conference did recommend that the Philippine government hold direct talks with Misuari, who had by this time moved to Libya, the source of his most generous support. assistance, but the Islamic Foreign Ministers’

Negotiations

opened

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, in January 1975. Executive Secretary Melchor, representing Marcos, spoke of “national unity” while Misuari spoke of Bangsa Moro “sovereignty.” Melchor blamed Misuari’s rigidity on Colonel Muamar Khaddah, and talks sputtered on unfruitfully. By late 1976, however, several factors increased the incenTalks

tive for

at

negotiated settlement.

The

political

and economic

costs to the

Philippine government were not insignihcant: military casualties were

running

were mounting. The cost of the held was staggering, and Marcos was

into the thousands, desertions

maintaining combat forces in

surreptitiously raiding civilian budgets to sustain the military. Finally,

forced the president to heed the advice of Arab leaders. At the same time the MNLF was hurting. In late 1975 the continuing world

oil crisis

they lost their “rear base” in neighboring Sabah

when Tun Mustafa was

removed as hrst minister and his successors took a “correct,” neutral stance on the Mindanao war. The Marcos policy of cooptation also weakened MNLF support among the Moro elite. In April 1975, for example, the president called a “peace conference” in Zamboanga, inviting two hundred “rebel leaders” to parley. Results were negligible, but he played the “Muslim disunity” card to the hilt. Colonel Khaddah may also have been disillusioned by the cost of the struggle and its indehnite prospects. In November 1976, to universal surprise, Imelda Marcos visited Khaddafi in Tripoli and, according to the official Manila press, “charmed him.” In December official talks resumed, and on the twentythird the so-called Tripoli

Agreement was signed by the

MNLF and the

Republic of the Philippines, as well as by the secretary-general of the Islamic Conference. The agreement was very vague, providing for the Muslims in a thirteen-province region of the southern Philippines an “autonomy” whose substance was “to be determined later.” Representatives of the Islamic Conference were to help supervise the cease-hre. Thus the MNLF had agreed to lay down its arms in exchange for official recognition and little else. Misuari, according to one participant,

wept

at

the signing.

Dennis O’Leary,

in Philippine Times,

April 6—12, 1978.

— Domestic Policy

The

was largely effective by

161

January 1977, but “autonomy” was a different story. MNLF leaders apparently hoped to dominate the provisional government of a single autonomous region, preparing for later elections. Marcos was determined to prevent such a development. After negotiations on autonomy were suspended in March, the president offered positions to hfteen “MNLF leaders” (including some who had left the organization) on the nearly powerless twenty-nine-member “preparatory committee of the provisional government” of the autonomous region, and announced plans for various economic development projects in Mindanao. On April 17 he held a plebiscite in spite of boycott by the MNLF in the thirteen southern provinces to get approval for the form of “autonomous government” he preferred. He also gave voters in Davao del Sur, South Cotabato, and Palawan, which had Christian majorities, a chance to opt out of the autonomous region, which they did. The repudiation of the Tripoli Agreement by means of a plebiscite was obvious. Marcos claimed that the MNLF had returned to a demand for Bangsa Moro “independence,” and by the end of April negotiations to dehne autonomy were impossible. The secretary-general of the Islamic Conference, referring especially to the plebiscite, accused the Philippine government of failing “to respect its pledges and commitments.” Though leaders on both sides proclaimed a desire to sustain the cease-hre, the will was not evident. A public attack on Misuari’s “Communist motives” by Rear Admiral Romeo Espaldon, the highest-ranking Filipino officer in Mindanao, set the mood. Defense Minister Ponce-Enrile told a military gathering in May, “Let the blood flow if it must whoever wants to test the capability of the armed forces, let him test it.”^^ When General Bautista and his aides were ambushed and killed in Sulu by the MNLF, all doubt was ended about the status of the “cease-hre.” By September widespread hghting had resumed. The next Marcos tactic was to exploit perhaps even to stimulate leadership rivalries within the MNLF. Manila papers announced in February 1978 that Misuari had been “deposed” as chairman of the cease-fire

late

—

.

.

—

.

—

MNLF by

Saudi-based Hashim Salamat, the front’s vice-chairman. Salamat charged that Misuari was moving the MNLF in a “marxist-Maoist” direction; Misuari charged that Salamat was in contact with Marcos’s The frustrations of hve years of rebellion were intelligence agents. Manila Journal, April 10, 17, 1977. ^2 Ibid., February 20, 27, March 6, 13, 27, and May 1, 1977. 13 Ibid., May 8, June 5, 1977. 14 See Ernesto Granada, Manila Journal, May 15, 1977. 13 For Salamat ’s charges Manila Journal, February 26, 1978.

162

Filipino Politics

producing dissension within the leadership. President Marcos indicated his “desire” to resume discussions with the rebels but cited the difficulty of negotiating with a fragmented MNLF command. In part the leadership struggle was between the old Moro elite of t/a^w-politicians, mostly educated in Manila or even the United States, and the younger Arab-educated challengers attracted to Misuari. Dissension was also based on ethnic differences, since the Moro identity had by no means obliterated the sense of being Tausug or Maranao or Maguindanao. As Cesar Majul delicately phrased it, part of the “Muslim problem” in the Philippines is that “although the Muslims are, in they have general, aware of their existence as a religious community problems peculiar to their different [local] communities. They also have many leaders who may claim to speak for all of them when, in reality, they can at most represent certain localities.”^® Libyan materiel, according to Misuari’s competitors, went disproportionately to Tausug fighters. In March 1978, moreover, Abdul Kayer Alonto was personally greeted by President Marcos and given amnesty. Alonto claimed that while Misuari really wanted independence, he was willing to negotiate for autonomy. Later in the year Arab leaders became concerned about MNLF unity, but Misuari’s dominant role was upheld by the Islamic Conference at its next meeting. Even many Moros who did not support independence have recognized that the MNLF has been a necessary “squeaky wheel,” causing the application of a lot of “grease” to Moro problems.^® Such Moros worried, however, that the useful and constructive programs that Manila had announced or launched would be forgotten as soon as the wheel no longer squeaked. Continued harassment of the armed forces by the MNLF could spark even more damaging and repressive military tactics. These contrasting prospects generated ambivalence about the .

MNLF’s future. The main thrust of government

.

.

policy in 1979 was the holding of

elections for “regional legislative assemblies”,

Sangguniang Pampook,

Mindanao, with neither the approval nor the participation of the MNLF or the Islamic Conference. Not surprisingly the government party won all seventeen seats in each of the two assemblies. In July

in

Cesar Majul, “The Muslim Problem in the Philippines” (talk prepared for Cultural Center, Spanish Embassy, Manila, August 16, 1975). ^^See Rodney Tasker, “Patching up a Rebellion,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 12, 1979, pp. 25-26. ^^See Cowing, p. 225. *®See Sheila W. Ocampo in Far Eastern Economic Review, reprinted in Philippine Times,

August

27, 1979.

— Domestic Policy

163

the president defined the powers of these regional bodies, whose five-

man

executive council was entirely appointed by the president.

The

regional governments, moreover, were specifically denied jurisdiction

over “exploration, exploitation, or utilization” of natural resources one of the main bones of contention in the Mindanao conflict. Hashim Salamat rejected the chairmanship of the Central Mindanao executive council.

The Marcos version of autonomy was accompanied by the Ministry of Islamic Affairs in Manila. In greater sensitivity to

Moro

culture than central

the creation of

some ways it showed government ever had

became an instrument of centralization. The ministry created a Council of Ulamas (Islamic teachers) and through them attempted to exercise some supervision over mosques. At the same time the Ministry of Education and Culture was trying to establish procedures for supervising madrasah schools. The Manila bureaucracy was competing to show respect for, but ultimately to establish control over, Moro institutions that previously had been quite autonomous. The failure of “made in Malacanang” regional autonomy to create before, but

it

also

any real change helped intensify violence in 1980. The MNLF officially returned to “the right to self determination and independence” as their political goal, joining Marcos in renouncing the Tripoli Agreement on autonomy as “no longer binding.” In fact, Misuari described autonomy The Bangsa Moro Army still as “a trap of catastrophic consequences. had nearly twenty thousand men in the field, and Misuari, organizing for the long haul, tried to broaden his international support. He opened an office in Tehran. Iran, which had supplied 5 percent of Philippine oil imports, suspended shipment in October 1979 because of The May 1980 Islathe “oppression of Muslims in the Philippines. mic Conference gave the MNLF “permanent observer” status. Misuari flaunted his

new

sumption of

talks with

strength in a very difficult precondition for the re-

The

Marcos

—the return of Moro refugees to their

of land grabbers would have frustrated any refugee return, and the refugees’ own fears precluded a return without fundamental change in the behavior of all Christian

original land.

armed

On

political influence

forces.

the military side there was less restraint than ever. Rearrest

orders were put out for a

number of amnestied

detainees with

MNLF

Misuari, speech to Islamic Conference of Foreign Ministers in Islamabad, Pakistan, May 1980, in Mahardika, special issue no. 7 (June 1980). 21 Richard Vokey, “Khomeini’s Hand in the Islamic Glove,” Far Eastern Economic Review, reprinted in Philippine Times, May 19, 1980. Philippine Times, November 5, 1979.

20Nur

164

Filipino Politics

A

major buildup of Philippine armed forces took place in Sulu and Basilan, and a more aggressive general took over the Southern Command. Stories of civilian massacres by Marines or army perconnections.

sonnel again became frequent. Reports also spread that some “terrorist acts,” quickly blamed on the MNLF, were actually arranged by local politicians and military commanders- worried that Marcos might make good on promises to withdraw the military from selected areas. Every conflict becomes institutionalized over time, creating interests that favor its prolongation. In Mindanao and Sulu such interests existed on both sides. There were also nearly one million refugees and more than fifty thousand dead.^^ Both Christian and Muslim traditions extolled the obligation of revenge, and so the dead themselves fueled the struggle.

Summing Up

However long

the fighting

lasts,

the

MNLF

will

not gain

Moro

independence by force of arms. Nor will it accumulate sufficient international support for that goal. Neighboring Islamic states have had their own separatist movements, and though they may act to protect Islamic rights, they will not go to the extent of aiding the breakup of sovereign territory. The precedent is too dangerous. But if armed force will not achieve Moro independence, neither can it end Moro rebellion. The Philippine military may even have favored a continuing southern war, since the war helped justify a large military budget. Marcos appeared to have accepted that view of the military’s attitude in the late 1970s and early 1980s, but he may not have had the political capability to settle even if he had wished. Quite aside from the vested interests of the military, there were thousands of Christian farmers in Mindanao who would have resisted furiously a land policy adequate to satisfy the dispossessed Moros. Nor would Christian Filipinos have favored greater autonomy for Moro than for Christian regions. “Real autonomy and martial law are exact opposites,” said Peter Cowing, the late authority on Muslim affairs. He was referring to the absence of constitutional restraint on central power. But Filipino political prejudice against Moros and the practical difficulty of providing “autonomy” to Moros in areas with a Christian majority were extreme.

Asiaweek special, Philippine Times, August 13, 1979. 24 Quoted in Robert Stauffer, “The Politics of Becoming; The Mindanao Conflict in a World System Perspective” (paper, Honolulu, July 1980). The MNLF claims doubled this

death 25

toll.

Cowing,

p.

235.

Domestic Policy

165

The range

of options for Marcos in Mindanao was also severely limited by the economic policies to which he was committed and which were highly profitable not only to his family but to the multinationals that buttressed his regime. The expansion of mining, manufacturing, and plantation agriculture in Mindanao was a cornerstone of national economic policy and the Lake Lanao area is a key source of hydroelectric power, making control of Muslim regions essential for economic development plans. Such plans, implemented by government and large corporations, also offered opportunities to coopt well-educated young Muslims, yet they often caused peremptory displacement of native cultivators and thus reinforced MNLF resistance. Restoring the Muslim farmer to his traditional landholdings was incompatible with existing central economic policy. Deepening Islamic consciousness, increased Moro unity, continued social change producing a new generation of Moro leaders, and prolonged international attention to the problem none of these trends, though present, could have necessarily helped bring peace. Because martial law was an obstacle to real autonomy for Moros, return to constitutional government was a prerequisite for peace in Mindanao. The emergence of the Aquino government, committed to democracy and reconciliation, was thus a hopeful development. Following preliminary contacts by her brother-in-law, Butz, President Aquino in August 1986 held an unprecedented personal meeting in Jolo with Nur Misuari, who returned to the Philippines for the first time in more than a decade. The meeting produced at least a temporary cease-fire. Trust in Aquino’s intentions was high, and the principle of Moro autonomy has been enshrined in the new constitution. But prospects for lasting peace are still confronted with the same prejudices, the same land conflicts, the same threats of irresponsible economic exploitation and military behavior, and the same divided Moro leadership.

—

Agrarian Policy In the early years of martial law agrarian reform was given great prominence. One month after declaration. Presidential decree 27 called for “the emancipation of the tiller of the soil from bondage”.

26 See Stauffer, “Politics of Becoming.” 27 800 for example, Lindy Washburn, ,

“Our Land

for Others?

Maranao Muslims

vs.

the Philippine National Power Corp.” (paper presented at Association for Asian Studies

meeting, March 1980). 26 Cowing, pp. 237-38.

166

Filipino Politics

And on

the decree’s

first

anniversary President Marcos said that “Land

reform is the only gauge for the success or failure of the New Society. If land reform fails, there is no New Society.”^^ In the decree’s preamble Mr. Marcos hinted at one of the motives for this priority: the fear of agrarian unrest, and Communist leadership thereof. Only two weeks after martial law had been declared. Professor Roy Prostermann of the University of Washington, author of the 1970 land reform in Vietnam (and the subsequent program in El Salvador) arrived in the Philippines, a draft decree in his pocket which would influence but not determine the final document. At about the same time Executive Secretary Alejandro Melchor was in Washington, trying to justify martial law as necessary for the quick implementation of broad social reforms. But for the president himself, land reform’s most important political function was to strike a blow at the “oligarchy,” those wealthy elites who formed the core of his political opposition. The Aquino estates were among the first to be expropriated. The president lost his originally keen interest after owners of more than one hundred hectares had been dispossessed. In sum, the political purpose of land reform was to create mass support for the New Society and its leader, legitimize him abroad, and undermine support for alternative leaders. Great estates in sugar, coconut, and other export crops were excluded from the reform, however, and in the long run none of these goals were fully accomplished. But in the first few years of martial law, agrarian policy did help create some support for Marcos in the countryside, blunted foreign criticism of his regime, and put the landed elite on the political defensive. Land ownership was highly concentrated in 1972, and large holdings

meant high tenancy. The further coincidence of high tenancy rates and persistent agrarian unrest was sufficiently strong to justify government concern. Tenant farms were most widespread in rice- and usually

corn-growing areas; according to the 1960 census, 46 percent of rice farms and 50 percent of corn farms were operated by tenants, whereas in coconuts and other crops tenancy was no higher than 26 percent. Sugar land was usually cultivated by wage labor. By 1970 more than two thirds of all tenants were share tenants, and the great majority were required to hand half of their crops to their landlords. Not only did the share tenant pay onerous rents but he was caught in perennial debt.

29Quoted

in Philippine Daily Express,

September

22, 1973.

^®See D. Wurfel, Philippine Agrarian Policy Today: Implementation and Political Impact, Institute of Southeast Asian Studies Occasional Paper no. 46 (Singapore, May 1977), p. 3.

Domestic Policy relying

on

credit

from landlords and

private moneylenders

167

and paying

exceeded 100 percent per annum. The limitation of land reform, or more precisely “compensated redistribution,” to rice and corn areas had an economic rationale as well as one based on social equity. Ownership was seen as a way to increase the cultivators’ motivation to work, save, and invest. In political terms, Marcos was cautious not to antagonize all landed wealth at once (and his family was also interested in expanding investment in sugar and other export crops). Furthermore, all previous land reform efforts had been interest that often

limited to rice

and corn,

so the administrative infrastructure existed

only in those sectors.

Bold rhetoric about land reform began with the Commonwealth president, but Manuel Quezon’s accomplishments were quite limited. It was Ramon Magsaysay who made the hrst serious attempt at agrarian reform. The Huk rebellion was so recent in 1954 that even a landlorddominated Congress passed the Agricultural Tenancy Act, which increased the tenants’ share to 70 percent of the rice and corn crop and substantially improved security of tenure. The law was by no means radical; but the Administration’s serious attempt to enforce it was new. Magsaysay was less successful in land distribution; landlord interests mangled his bill before enacting it. Restrictions in the act prevented purchase except at prices agreeable to the landlord, which made tenant repayment to the government difficult if not impossible. Yet government publicity was effective. Within a few years tenant petitions for government acquisition of rice and corn haciendas were several times the number actually purchased.^ Tenant hopes had been raised but ^

not fulhlled. In 1963 President Macapagal, worried about reelection, proposed even more sweeping agrarian reform. It was enacted largely as proposed, broadening the power of government to expropriate landed estates, integrating the administration of various agrarian reform programs, and emphasizing a shift from share to leasehold tenancy (thought to allow the tenant farmer both greater autonomy and greater security, as well as higher income). Nevertheless landed estates purchased by the government continued to be overpriced, and the level of funding was totally inadequate. Before martial law President Marcos slowly expanded the program

See D. Wurfel, “Philippine Agrarian Reform under Magsaysay,” Far Eastern Survey 27 (January— February 1958), 7—13, 23—30. 32 See Harold Koone and Lewis Gleeck, “Land Reform in the Philippines,” AID Spring Review,

June 1970, pp. 1—92.

168

Filipino Politics

1971 tenant organizations formed an unprecedentedly effective lobby and pushed through Congress, without the help of the president, amendments to speed government acquisition of large estates for redistribution. But Marcos declared

under

existing legislation. In

martial law before he could use this

new

legislation. The

martial law was necessary for effective land reform

is

argument

that

therefore

less

than fully persuasive. In principle Presidential Decree 27 was a great improvement over

previous legislation because all tenants whose landlords owned more than seven hectares were to be sold the land they tilled at a price two and one-half times the average annual production; they were given hfteen years to pay the Land Bank at 6 percent interest. (Landlords

be paid 10 percent in cash and 90 percent in Land Bank bonds.) No tenant initiative was required. When the tenant fully paid, and only then, he would receive title. In the meantime the eligible tenant would receive a Certihcate of Land Transfer (CLT) identifying his cultivated area and promising him the right to purchase the land. In the hrst month the Department of Agrarian Reform, already created before martial law, announced that over one million tenants tilled 1.44 million hectares of rice and corn land. But research in 1975 established that 57 percent of tenants farmed land owned by persons with under seven hectares. Subsequently the department announced that its goal was to service over 390,000 tenants on 730,000 hectares, or little more than one in three rice and corn tenants. By 1980 it claimed to have “issued” CLTs to 90 percent of targeted tenants, but half the certihcates printed in Manila probably never reached the hands of the

were

to

cultivator.

Certihcate holders had

still

to

pay rent

to their landlords; not until

hxed and the tenant began to pay installments to the Land Bank did he become an “amortizing owner.” Only 86,500, or 22 percent of the target, had reached that stage in 1977, and only 1,667 had completed payments early and become full owners. Most amortizing owners were delinquent. Delays and delinquency resulted from landlords being allowed to negotiate with tenants. Department held officials sometimes aided the the price of the land was

landlord, already the stronger party. officials

stood

up

for tenant rights

On

the other hand,

under the

law, they

threatened or judicially harassed by landlords; Duncan Harkin, Small 1975),

Land

Landlords in

the Philippine

many

when DAR

were verbally officials

faced

Land Reform (Manila: AID, August

p. 7.

Rolf Hanisch, “Decision-Making Process and Problems of Implementation of the Quarterly 1978/1, p. 29. Reform in the Philippines,”

Domestic Policy

169

court cases for merely doing their duty.^^ Landlord foot-dragging could postpone a pricing agreement indefinitely. Thus tenants were

paying an average price per hectare 44 percent higher than it would have been if based on the average yield as reported by the Ministry of Agriculture.^^ Finally, even when the scheme worked, the loss of land usually did not involve a major loss of wealth. Landlords could sell

Land Bank bonds

for cash, at a discount, or invest

them

in

approved

projects at face value. Meanwhile, for those tenants not eligible to

receive

Reform

CLTs to

there was a strong drive by the Department of Agrarian

transform sharehold into leasehold or hxed-rent tenancy,

with written contracts. In practice the contracts varied widely. leasehold tenant had

full responsibility

agricultural inputs, so even

The

for the skyrocketing costs of

when genuine fixed-rent tenancy was legal maximum, it was more likely the

achieved at rates below the landlord than the tenant who gained from the shift. Tenant reluctance to shift to leasehold grew. What were the net results of a decade of land redistribution and tenancy reform? They put more than 111,000 tenants on the road to ownership. While involving only 1 1 percent of a very conservative estimate of all rice and corn tenants, the accomplishment was, nevertheless, greater than in any previous administration. Moreover, at least a small portion of the 605,000 claimed actually did shift from sharehold to leasehold. However, the announcement and the early stages of implementation gave the vast majority of tenants the feeling that they personally were going to beneht. As a consequence, for every farmer grateful for having achieved a new status and perhaps improved income, there were many who resented the frustration of their hopes. The thousands of tenants who received CLTs only to have them either because of simple bureaucratic confusion or because of recalled landlord intervention were probably most upset, but thousands more were illegally ejected from their tenant holdings in 1972—74 by farsighted landlords wishing to evade the reform. The slow pace of implementation was due partly to a chronic bureaucratic complaint, lack of personnel because of lack of budget, even though there was a real increase in funds for agrarian reform between hscal years 1973 and 1977. The Ministry of Agrarian Reform’s share of the national budget continued to slide, however; in 1973 it was 0.8 percent of the total, in 1977 only 0.7 percent, and in 1981, 0.5 per-

—

—

35 Ibid., pp. 21-22. 36 See Germolino Bautista, Philippine

Rural Anti-Poverty Programs (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University, Institute of Philippine Culture, 1978), pp. 27-28. 3'7DAR, Operation Land Transfer, Program Accomplishment, March 31, 1983.

5

170

Filipino Politics

More

makers in the face of landlord pressure, despite the boast of Minister of Agrarian Reform Conrado Estrella about his easy access to President Marcos. There was apparently a feeling in Malacahang Palace that more was to be gained politically by easing the pressure on smaller landlords than by pushing reform to completion. Foreign analysts, however, were more inclined to conclude that incomplete reform raised expectations and intensihed cent.^®

serious was the retreat by top decision

the frustration of those political

who

did not beneht. By 1981 revolutionary

organization in the countryside justihed that conclusion.

Some

prime land reform areas had become New People’s Army bases. Government spokesmen did not bother with explaining failures. They proclaimed complete success. In 1980 the government-owned news agency stated: “359,000 farmers now own the land they till via the issuance of 501,364 certihcates of land title [5ic]. The hgure represents equate CLTs with titles had lost its subtlety, but some foreign publications nevertheless used the language of the release. Even officials at the Agency for International Development in Washington bought this line, reporting to a House subcommittee in March 1981 that “88 percent of eligible families had received land titles” under Philippine agrarian reform,^® thus perpetuating the gross inaccuracy.

82 percent of the

total target.”^®

The attempt to

Other components of agrarian reform also fared poorly. The villagelevel “precooperatives,” designed to undergird land redistribution, were organized quickly under government pressure in the early days of martial law. At the end of 1975 more than 14,000 Samahang Nayon had nearly 100,000 members. SN savings, a requirement of membership, reached R43 million by 1976, but despite this impressive record most SN were already dead or dying. The Bureau of Cooperatives, which supervised the program, would not allow farmers to withdraw their savings, so the records continued to show large numbers. Perhaps the major reason for decline was that SN funds could be put to use only as capitalization for Cooperative Rural Banks and Area Marketing Cooperatives, and before 1977 they had not been organized See Presidential Budget Message, FY 197 (Manila, 1974), p. SA-, Philippine Development, August 15, 1979, pp. 13—16; and Bulletin Today, September 2, 1980, p. 2. Agrarian reform seemed to get priority, instead, in the announced reversion of appropriations to the general fund. See reversion order for PI 57 million in June 1977, in which P65 million came from the Department of Agrarian Reform. (Presidential Letter of Instructions no. 548.) Bulletin Today,

October

19, 1980.

Statement of Frederick Schieck, acting assistant administrator. Bureau for Asia, AID, to U.S. House Subcommittee on Asian and Pacihc Affairs, Committee on Foreign Affairs,

March

31, 1981.

^

Domestic Policy

171

most provinces. Farmers concluded that they derived no beneht from SN membership. Cooperative Rural Banks were blocked by the privately owned rural banks system, with more than nine hundred member institutions. The number of Area Marketing Cooperatives grew to forty by 1980, but most were not functioning properly and needed an infusion of R50 million in government capital, later augmented by an additional PI 00 million.^ The disarray of the cooperatives program further weakened land reform, because membership was required of land reform benehciaries and the SN was supposed to take over a member’s farm if he defaulted on amortization payments to the Land Bank. But this mechanism never actually worked. Despite the efforts of some SN officers, the barrio

in

precooperatives also failed to become a village voice in dealing with bankers, landowners, and bureaucrats. In fact, some Samahang

Nayon “provided municipal government officials a new source of leverage to control community activities and resources,” and occasionally the

SN

president functioned as an officer of the mayor.

Yet as long as

they actually functioned, they effectively preempted organizational “space” in the village, making it more difficult for truly voluntary coops to enter.

The

component of agrarian policy under martial law was Masagana 99, government funding of low-interest, unsecured loans to rice farmers. It was a large element in the Green Revolution, designed primarily to increase rice production which dropped sharply in 1973 and only secondarily to reduce small farmers’ reliance on highinterest and semifeudal creditors, such as moneylenders and landlords. By April 1980 the Central Bank had loaned P4,358 million to rural banks and the Philippine National Bank, which in turn loaned to rice cultivators (owners and tenants alike). In 1974, at the program’s peak, third major

—

—

were benehciWhen borrowers were tenants, loans were secured only by a aries. lien on the standing crop, which for the creditor meant high risk. In fact, the program had begun to founder because of poor repayment in 1974—75, and banks began to deny new loans to delinquent 531,249

rice farmers, nearly half the total in the country,

Presidential Letter of Instructions no. 1025,

May

22, 1980.

See Bautista, p. 47. ^^See New Directions and the Rural Poor: The Role of Local Organizations in Development, vol. 2: Case Studies, a report prepared for AID by Development Alternatives (Washington, D.C.,

August 1979),

p.

303.

Esguerra, “Some Notes on the Masagana 99 Program and Small Farmer Access to Credit” (paper presented at annual meeting of Philippine Sociological Society, Quezon City, November 1980), pp. 14—15. 44 See

Emmanuel

172

Filipino Politics

borrowers. In late 1975 only 302,762 farmers received loans, 56 percent of numbers at the peak a year earlier; less than half that number benehted in the following year. By late 1979 only 21 percent of the

1974 farmer-borrowers received credit under Masagana 99, and under no other program would banks lend to tenants without the security of tractor or work animal; even that was a rarity. More than F800 million in loans were delinquent, and nearly half of rural banks had stopped making unsecured crop loans. This ostensibly well-conceived program declined in large part because of the “crash program” mentality of 1973—74. Rice production was down, and there was a political need for dramatic performance in the early days of martial law.. Department of Agriculture technicians who distributed the application forms practically begged farmers to

These technicians had no time for held inspections, let alone farm-by-farm advice. Thus new seeds and chemicals were often misused. Yields were poor, making repayment difficult. take loans.

Corruption was also a problem, with many politicians getting loans for hctitious farmers. Farmers themselves sometimes sold fertilizer, which they received at a special discount, to nearby sugar planters. Rural bankers also augmented their prohts. As a Bulletin Today editorial in 1980 admitted, “a good portion of total arrearages is due to frauds.”^® And hnally, Masagana 99 suffered from a phenomenon that had bedeviled previous government credit schemes: farmers were poor and often had to use crop loans for medicine or for such essential life ceremonies as weddings and funerals. The more than 400,000 farmers who had stopped receiving loans were left with unpaid accounts at the rural banks, or the PNB, and were thrown back on moneylenders for the credit that so many of them needed simply to stay alive. Some were share tenants who had in the

meantime become not return to a

and they usually could familiar source, the landlord. Thus by the end of the lessors or amortizing owners,

decade a large portion of that 400,000 was worse off than before Masagana 99 began. Many had been visited by the constabulary to “remind” them to pay their loans, and a few even spent a short stint in jail for their delinquency. As a group, therefore, they were probably not well disposed to bankers, agricultural technicians (who sometimes asked for there own “fee”), and other representatives of government. Even at the peak of Masagana 99, however, in 1974, the 5 percent of

‘^^Bulletin Today,

Ibid.

September

11, 1980.

Domestic Policy

173

Philippine farms over ten hectares were receiving 72.5 percent of production loans, because government credit for sugar plantations

much more generous than for rice farmers. The large farmer continued to be the major

was

benehciary of institutional, and therefore low-interest, loans. Masagana 99 nonetheless achieved its production goals, and the Philippines by 1977 had moved from being a rice importer to being a rice exporter.^® Despite all the propaganda about land reform and cooperatives, the government was quietly promoting corporate farming. And when corporate farming and land reform came into direct conflict, the principle of “land to the tiller” usually lost. One illustration of policy conflict was General Order no. 47, issued by President Marcos in May 1974 when world stocks of rice were at critically low levels. It required all “financially viable” for-profit corporations and partnerships employing at least five hundred persons to provide rice or corn for their employees and their immediate families, either by importing cereals or by producing them. By January 1977, 228 corporations either were directly engaged in production or had established contractual arrangements with producers. These arrangements covered over 52,000 hectares; a large portion of this corporate farm land was leased from the owners, large and small. In one instance Victorias Milling Co. leased land from the Mindoro Agricultural School and then evicted occupants who had

been trying for years to get legal title to previously public land. Corporate farms were usually highly mechanized, using a minimum of wage labor, so that among the displaced families only the lucky ones found employment on their own land. As much as 20,000 hectares may have been lost by CLT-holding tenants and owners a land reform in re-

—

verse.

President Marcos issued a second decree (no. 472) in 1974, opening up another type of corporate farming. All holders of timber licenses

and pasture

on public land were required

develop areas for the production of rice, corn and other within their concessions basic staples.” But most of the easily cultivatable hectarage within timber and pasture concessions had already been planted in small plots by land-hungry farmers, who could not acquire any title to the land they tilled because the Bureau of Forestry refused to classify it as “suitable for agricultural purposes.” Presidential Decree no. 472 removed that leases

.

.

“to

.

Chita Tanchoco-Subido, “Small Farmer Credit Policies and Programs in the Philippines”, Los Banos, Laguna (mimeo, March 1978), p, 8. Far Eastern Economic Review, September 1, 1978.

174

Filipino Politics

On more

than 25,000 hectares cultivators were driven off the land to make way for mechanized, administered farming.^^ Corporate farms and plantations encroached on small family farms in other ways as well. In the early years of martial law there was a remarkable increase in the area planted to export crops, both because of rising world prices and because of the desire to evade land reform. Sugar planting expanded by nearly 94,000 hectares between 1972 and 1975, and in 1976 three sugar mills were under construction, requiring 75,000 hectares more. It seems likely that at least half of the new sugar land had formerly been planted to rice and corn. It was either purchased from cultivators under pressure or planted to sugar after ejection of sitting tenants. When sugar prices dropped in 1976, however, the president assured big landowners that “temporary” planting to rice and corn would not subject them to land reform as long as wage laborers, not tenants, were used in the cultivation.^^ Banana production also jumped in the early 1970s, from fewer than 2 million boxes in 1969 to more than 28 million in 1972. After the declaration of martial law another 6,000 hectares were planted. Much of this land was apparently converted from rice or corn, and its conversion usually involved the displacement of owner-cultivators, public land claimants, or tenants. Bulldozers or physical threats were often used to clear the land, and the frequent cooperation of the military in forcing off cultivators to make way for banana plantations reinforced the rumor that the Marcos family was personally interested in the industry. (Bananas proved a good investment. Net proht per hectare, according to the industry’s own hgures in 1975, averaged PI 1,000.) Land acquisition practices for pineapple were much the same. It is very hard to estimate the magnitude of “reverse land reform.” No government office compiled data, and only major conflicts, which attracted the attention of the church or more recently of the NPA, got journalistic coverage. But it is quite possible that in 1980 those deprived of the land they were cultivating by corporate farming were more numerous than the approximately 100,000 “amortizing owners” and recipients of “Emancipation Patents” who did benefit from land reform. Indeed, the class of rural residents which seemed to be growing most rapidly was the landless farm laborer. In 1975, 85 percent of the agricultural work force in sugarcane farming were wage laborers, and obstacle for corporate concessionaires.

—

"^^Wurfel, Philippine Agrarian Policy Today, p. 30. Presidential Decree no. 1066, December 31, 1976.

Domestic Policy

175

and tobacco farms. Of the 4.7 million who worked in rice and corn (more than two thirds the total agricultural work force), 50 percent were landless laborers, a much

47 percent on coconut,

fruit, vegetable,

higher proportion than in previous estimates.^ In 1974, landless laborers in rice farms earned a median annual income of P915, less than $125. Even share tenants averaged 38 percent more.^^ Yet this most numerous and most poorly paid category of rural residents benehted from none of the agrarian reforms mentioned. The agricultural minimum wage was raised, in 1976 and in 1980, but agricultural employers paid little attention to it. It was, in fact, extremely low wages that made agribusiness such an attractive investment. Yet agribusiness was less labor-intensive than the small farms it replaced, increasing rural unemployment. Population growth and the disappearance of free land on the frontier would have increased the landless labor class regardless of agrarian policy. But the net impact of policy was to contribute to the increase. Land reform, when properly implemented, aimed to create an ownercultivator class that would be productive, prosperous, and conservative. Some of the thousands of benehciaries of land reform may have ht that prescription, but like land reform benehciaries for the past hfty years, many have tended to stop cultivating the soil themselves, taking on share tenants with no legal status to do the dirty work, then seeking off-farm employment. All successful land reform can do is to reduce the inequities in wealth and income within rural society, and removal of the largest rice and corn landlords was a step in this direction. But the encouragement of corporate farming neutralized even that commendable move. For the rural poor, the oppression of wealth and power was greater than ever. By the 1980s the political consequences of Philippine agrarian policy under martial law had become a case of satisfaction for the few and frustration for the many. Agrarian reform certainly did not strengthen regime legitimacy. Whether the greater potential for successful reform under the Aquino administration is to be realized remains to be seen. Elements of her coalition are committed to reform, but members of the landed elite are openly hostile to expanded redistribution of land. In the Ministry of Agrarian Reform itself she has retained along with some dedicated civil servants hundreds of of^

—

—

—

—

^^See Lorna Makil and Patria Fermin, Landless Rural Workers in the Philippines: A Documentary Survey (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University, Institute of Philippine Culture, 1978), p. 22, based on National Census and Statistics Office, National Sample Survey of Households, 1975. ^2 Ibid., pp. 42—43.

176

Filipino Politics

ficials

who were

gain legitimacy through policy she tal

To more fundamen-

responsible for frustrating reform in the 1970s.

have to initiate change than she did in her hrst year in office. will

Conclusion

We

have examined two types of policy which were designed to augment regime legitimacy and support. President Marcos attempted to deal with a rebellion that was to a considerable degree the product of his own previous policies. He managed to factionalize the Moros but perhaps prolonged the hghting. War may have strengthened military support for the president, at least at hrst. But Moros were more and more deeply embittered by the slaughter, and a large number of Christians were the victims of military indiscipline. Nor did any constructive cultural policies toward the Muslims have a broad impact. Policies toward Moros suffered from manipulation by the same Christian leaders at the local level who had helped trigger the conflict in the hrst place. For Marcos the whole effort was probably a net loss. In land reform, meanwhile, the best evidence of government failure was the spread of organized unrest in the countryside by the end of the 1970s, even where land reform activity had been substantial. This demonstrated how unrevolutionary was Marcos’s “revolution from above.” Policy-making elites in central institutions and policy-implementing elites at the local level changed very little as a result of martial law. Landlords and their close relatives were in key positions in the Department of Agrarian Reform before September 1972, and they remained there afterward. As in the late 1970s President Marcos came

more

need for local leaders as intermediaries in the patrimonial system, he became even less inclined to disturb modestly landed elites. And as he gave higher priority to foreign investment, he also had less time for the plight of pioneer farmers dispossessed by great plantation companies. In some cases he probably even shared in those company’s prohts. In these policy areas, at the very least, the authoritarian regime was not a solution but the problem. It is no wonder that its policies failed to earn it legitimacy. Working in the context of freedom of speech, of the press, and of assembly. President Aquino’s policies could be more responsive to public demand in both formulation and implementation, thus helping to restore the legitimacy of governmental institutions. But to appreciate

they too

may

fail.

fully his

7

Foreign Policy: Strategies for

always to some degree the handmaiden of domestic particularly in smaller countries that face no serious foreign

Foreign policy politics,

Regime Survival

is

Such a country is the Philippines. During the Vietnam War Clark Field and Subic Bay acted as forward American bases, and soon there emerged a genuine fear

threat but have deep-seated internal problems.

among some

influential Filipinos of

Chinese

attack.

By the

early 1970s,

however, Manila’s foreign affairs cognoscenti were well aware of the warming alliance between the United States and China. Even Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) officers referred to external defense as only a “latent” function.^ Thus President Marcos could concentrate on foreign policy as a tool to solve domestic problems. ^ Though, of course, the Philippines was not free of all international system constraint; the world political economy severely limited the range of policy choices available.

Philippine regime 1972-1986 was an authoritarian one; the constitutional concentration of power in the hands of the president was

The

very great, and the concentration in practice was greater still. Marcos was not accountable to his party, his parliament, or his citizenry in any

meaningful way, but he was responsive to the demands and expectations of certain important groups in the political system which he believed could threaten him. The military were his allies, but the alliance required constant cultivation. Intellectuals could provide po^See Harold Maynard, “Military Elite Perceptions in Indonesia and the Philippines” (diss., American University, 1976), pp. 416, 465ff. 2 For discussion of domestic uses of foreign policy in Indonesia see Franklin Weinstein, Indonesian Foreign Policy and the Dilemma of Dependence (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976), pp. 33—34. Some analysts of Bismarck’s foreign policy have also stressed the importance of domestic political goals, the primacy of Innenpolitik over Aussenpolitik. See Peter Gourevitch, “The Second Image Reversed: The International Sources of Domestic Politics,” International Organization 32 (Autumn 1978), 905.

178

Filipino Politics

he attempted to neutralize them through incarceration, cooptation, or gentle wooing. From the very day that martial law was declared he complained of a “rightist conspiracy” by the “oligarchy of the old society,” and he approached the established economic elite with the same exquisite variety of tactics as he did intellectuals. Both the president and the economic elite recognized that the only way to promote economic growth rapid enough to outpace the growth of population, and to serve their mutual interests, was to rely on an tent leadership for either legal or illegal opposition, so

Thus the old elite, become for the most supporters. What never

increased flow of foreign loans and investment. though not fully incorporated into the regime, did

part active collaborators and at least tacit abated was their resentment of the nouveaux riches, the relatives and cronies of the Marcos family

who were

the prime benehciaries of

foreign investment and credit.

Marcos, in sum, was left relatively free by the international system and by his grasp of institutional power to determine his own goals for foreign policy. Meanwhile, the dynamics of the domestic political system put a premium on techniques that would build support for the regime.

Foreign Policy in the 1950s and 1960s

In the hrst decade of Philippine independence, however, foreign

way of expressing “loyalty to America” (or occasional dissatisfaction with American failure “to live up to her responsibilities”). A successful presidential candidate regarded American blessing as essential. In the early 1950s Filipino interests were still represented in most countries by the U.S. Embassy. In the early stages policy was seen as a

—

of decolonialization Philippine-American relations the bulk of foreign interactions tended to be viewed in the Filipino cultural perspective of interpersonal ties.^ In the aftermath of a war that wrought

—

on the Philippines and in which Filipinos fought and died under the American flag, most Filipinos perceived fairly modest American aid, wrapped in the “strings” of the parity amendment, the Bell Trade Act, and later the Quirino-Foster Agreement terrible destruction

(1950), as a shameless failure to repay adequately a “debt of gratitude”

(utang na

Americans, acting in enlightened self-interest, thought Filipinos would understand. Robert Pringle’s characterization of the loob).

relationship

3

and

is

perceptive:

See D. Wurfel, “Problems of Decolonialization,” the Philippines

(Englewood

Cliffs,

Frank Golay,

The United N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966), pp. 149—73. in

ed.,

States

Foreign Policy

179

To the extent that the ex-colonizing power retains a large presence in the excolony, he is somewhat like a parent permanently established in the household of a married child, revered but resented. Now imagine a situation in which a parent, a powerful person with many other interests, absentmindedly forgets his past and expects the child to behave just like any other hotel keeper. The latter can hardly be blamed for developing a certain degree of paranoia. He expects favorable treatment and reacts with resentment when it isn’t forthcoming.4

The

international role of the Philippines was defined primarily in

terms of the American relationship. The Philippines provided troops to hght in Korea in 1950, echoed the anticommunist line in the United Nations, and hosted the conference that created Secretary of State John Foster Dulles’s brainchild, the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO), in 1954. In 1955 the Philippine Jaycees launched “Operation Brotherhood,” which sent Filipino doctors and nurses to Vietnam to help care for refugees from the north at the initiative and with the backing of the CIA. Such was the temper of the times that the CIA connection, if known, would have bothered few Filipinos. A leading Filipino historian complained that his people equated America’s national interest with their own.^ By the late 1950s Filipinos were becoming aware of the criticism of Asian neighbors, and some began to recognize excessive Americanization as a disadvantage. As O. D. Corpuz, later president of the University of the Philippines, put it, “our new-found awareness of Asia, reinforced by our suddenly increased contact with fellow Asians, was a our credentials as Asians were suspect. Many profound experience Filipinos learned that [fellow Asians] considered the Philippines merely a puppet of the United States.”® Senator Claro Recto became an eloquent critic of American foreign policy, a view to which President Garcia was more sympathetic than his predecessor, Mag-

—

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

saysay,

had been.

Inadequately sensitive to these trends, the United States in 1956 proposed negotiations for the modernization and expansion of its bases. The positions of the two parties were so far apart that negotiations were broken off in December the hrst rupture of diplomatic talks in the history of Philippine-American relations. The killing by American guards of Filipinos scavenging for scrap metal near the base perimeters, with legal hghts over jurisdiction in several cases, had made negotiations no easier.^ Talks were not resumed until 1959, whereupon

—

^Robert Pringle, Indonesia and

(New York: Columbia University

the Philippines:

American

Interests in Island Southeast

Press, 1980), p. 54.

^Renato Constantino, Neocolonial

Identity

Asia

‘

and Counter Consciousness (London: Merlin,

1978), p. 78.

®0. D. Corpuz, “Realities of Philippine Foreign Policy,” in Golay, p. 53. ^See George Taylor, “The Challenge of Mutual Security,” in Golay, pp. 88ff.

180

Filipino Politics

the United States offered to reduce base leases

from 99

to

25 years and

18,000 hectares of leased land. Negotiations were hnally completed only six years later, in August 1965. In the meantime President Macapagal had proposed the dispatching of Filipino troops to Vietnam, but widespread opposition in press and Congress postponed appropriations for the purpose. Nacionalista presidential candidate Ferdinand Marcos was one of the opponents. After to relinquish nearly

1

Marcos became president, however, he pushed the appropriation through Congress, limiting Filipino forces to a “noncombat” engineering battalion. President Lyndon Johnson, badly in need of Asian friends at the time, was particularly grateful. It was later learned that he had secretly promised Marcos to hnance the Philippines’ Vietnam operation.^ Marcos was also given a state visit to the United States, the enactment of the long-awaited Filipino veterans’ backpay provision, and an honorary doctorate at the

chance

to address the U.S. Congress,

University of Michigan.

— from

The

political

dividends

at

home

—outside na-

of American accolades convinced Marcos early in his presidential term of the valuable domestic uses of foreign policy.^ He developed his skills accordingly. tionalist circles

this

unprecedented

series

Goals of Marcos’s Foreign Policy

After the declaration of martial law, Marcos looked to foreign policy to serve three main goals. He attempted to build support among nationalists (especially intellectuals), the military, and the economic elite. At the same time he sought to inhibit outside support for the NPA and Moro rebellions. Finally, he manipulated the international environment to contribute to economic growth, which he saw as his most important source of legitimacy.^® These goals, as he found, could be incompatible.

Marcos, rare among Third World autocrats, was sensitive to the mood of Filipino intellectuals. Knowing they would be unhappy with ®U.S. Senate, Subcommittee on U.S. Security Agreements and Commitments Abroad, Committee on Foreign Relations, Hearings, 91st Cong. (September— October 1969), pt. 1, p. 356. ^W. Scott Thompson, Unequal Partners (Lexington, Mass.; Heath, 1975), pp. 80—86, 107. Thompson’s account of the Marcos aboutface on PHILCAG, the Philippine contingent in Vietnam, indicates that Marcos seemed to be aware of the opportunities even as he took office. i^On May 23, 1975, the president announced his “guidelines for action”: “First, to intensify, along a broader held, our relations with members of ASEAN. Second, to pursue more vigorously the establishment of diplomatic relations with socialist states. Third, to seek closer identihcation with the Third World with whom we share similar problems. Fourth, to continue our benehcial relationship with Japan. Fifth, to support Arab countries in their struggle for a just and enduring peace in the Middle Finally, to hnd a new basis compatible with the emerging realities in Asia for a East. .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Foreign Policy his

generous concessions

181

he devised a foreign policy had a degree of success. Said

to foreign capital,

meet some of their criticisms. He former foreign secretary and University of the Philippines president to

Salvador P. Lopez, a leading nationalist intellectual, in 1977, the “dramatic changes” in foreign policy under the New Society were “a healthy sign.”^^

Opening

One

to the Left

was of the ridiculous extremes

nationalist critique

to

which

anticommunism had been carried. President Macapagal’s exclusion of the Yugoslav basketball team from a Manila tournament is often cited as the zenith of this tendency. The Philippines had diplomatic relations with no Communist-ruled state until Marcos’s second term, when he exchanged ambassadors with Yugoslavia and Rumania. Then, in 1973, diplomatic ties and trade relations were formalized with six more Communist countries in Asia and Eastern Europe. In 1974 the president proclaimed that “we believe in peaceful coexistence. Bipolarization has now become unfashionable. We feel it .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

unhealthy for a country to deal only with part of the world.” The big break came when an embassy was opened in Beijing in June 1975. For the military, whose whole training had focused on the threat of Communist China, it was a fearsome step to take “opening the country to Communist agents,” breaking all ties with Taiwan. The Americans, of course, had already shown the way, and the Civil Liberties Union of the Philippines claimed that “the truth is that the ‘bold’ and ‘innovative’ moves taken by the Department of Foreign Affairs, which it passes off for ‘independence,’ are the latest variation of its Other domestraditional subservience to America’s global interests. tic calculations supported the move. The president, who conceived of foreign policy in part as a way to interdict external support for local dissidents, apparently gained Chinese assurances that they would pro-

—

vide

no aid

to the Philippine

Communist movement.

Undoubtedly

it

continuing healthy relationship with the United States.” Quoted in Claude Buss, The United States and the Philippines: Background for Policy (Washington, D.C.: American Enterprise Institute, 1977), p. 83.

Manila Journal, July 10, 1977. A year later he was reported in the Los Angeles Times as being much more critical: “Our president discovered nationalism when he realized he might be able to score some points with students and intellectuals. But he is widely regarded as an American puppet.” (Reprinted in Philippine Times, May

Quoted

in

.

.

.

.

.

.

25-31, 1978), Philippine Times, August 16—31, 1974. ^^Statement, October 15, 1975 (Manila: mimeo). ^"^Peking Review, June 13, 1975, pp. 3—8, quoted in Buss, p. 85. Golam Choudury claims that Governor Romualdez, the brother of the First Lady, was given such assurance during a secret mission to Beijing as early as 1972. See Choudury, China in World Affairs: The Foreign Policy of the PRC since 1970 (Boulder: Westview, 1982), p. 239.

182

Filipino Politics

proved a persuasive argument with the Philippine military. Furthermore, the Chinese promised small but steady shipments of oil to the Philippines at a time when Arabs were showing their displeasure with military action against the Moros. The Chinese, in effect, contributed to the containment of both rebellions. Tough negotiations for diplomatic ties with the Soviet Union had been going on for a long time, and some cultural contacts had already taken place, but embassies were not established until 1977 the year after a visit by the First Couple. The Soviets’ allies within the Philippines, the PKP, had already been coopted by Marcos and so Moscow had less political urgency than Beijing. (The Russians were also less eager for relations than the Chinese.) In the same year diplomatic exchanges were made with Vietnam, Kampuchea, and Laos, and in 1978 President Marcos and Premier Phan Van Dong of Vietnam signed a joint statement that bound their respective countries to refrain from acts of subversion, direct or indirect, and from using force against each

—

other.

Opening

The

to the

Third World

increasing prominence that Philippine foreign policy gave to

ASEAN

was also a response to the nationalist desire for a stronger Asian orientation. Indeed, if number of journalists at an ASEAN summit indicated importance given to the organization, then in 1976 on Bali the Philippines was ASEAN’s most enthusiastic supporter. The Association of Southeast Asia, ASEAN’s predecessor, had included only Thailand and Malaysia besides the Philippines. The addition of Singapore and Indonesia in 1967 not only invigorated the organization but compounded the domestic advantages for Philippine participation. Indonesia, a predominantly Muslim country and a member of the Islamic Conference, was also a major oil exporter. To gain her understanding of the Moro problem and expanded oil supplies, both of which Marcos accomplished, was made easier by his support for Indonesian leadership in ASEAN. And Singapore, headquarters of the most sophisticated anticommunist intelligence network in Southeast Asia, was also courted by a regime faced with Communist political and military opposition. President Marcos himself described ASEAN in 1980 as an organization in which “there are exchanges which indicate a common and mutual interest in security.”^® in the late 1970s

July 17, 1977, October 1, 1978. Speech at the Philippine Military Academy, quoted in Manila Journal, February 18, 1980.

^^Manila Journal, April

3,

Foreign Policy

Through ASEAN,

183

could rebuild fractured relations with Malaysia. Macapagal’s sovereign and proprietary claim to the territory of Sabah, just before its inclusion in the new Federation of Malaysia in 1963, launched one of the most extraordinary episodes in the history of Philippine foreign relations. Not only did it breed contempt for Filipino political leadership among knowledgeable Malaysians but, more seriously, it triggered a potent counteraction by Sabah’s ruler. Tun Mustapha, who was himself a Tausug (the ethnic group domiciled primarily in the Sulu Archipelago and from which Nur Misuari, the MNLF leader, sprang). He tolerated, even assisted, the provision of military supplies to and sanctuary in flight for Moro hghters. After 1976, when Mustapha was replaced as hrst minister, the Sabah government tried to cut off such assistance, though it was not entirely successful. In the same year just prior to the ASEAN summit Marcos announced that the Philippines no longer had any intention of pressing its claim to sovereignty over Sabah, though he did not ofhcially drop it. Good relations with Malaysia gave hope of cutting the foreign supply line of the Moro National Liberation Front. The opening to the Communist world and growing participation in ASEAN were in part designed to satisfy Filipino nationalists, both inside and outside ruling circles. A third dimension of Marcos foreign policy, though less the attempt to play a leadership role successful, also had this intention in the developing world. The First Couple went to the United Nations also, the Philippines

—

(UNCTAD) meeting in Nairobi in December 1976, with great ostentation — so much so, in fact, as to be counterproductive in some Third World eyes. An effort to gain Conference on Trade and Development

observer status at the Nonaligned Conference in Colombo in the same year failed entirely. When in 1979 the Philippines hosted UNCTAD in Manila, Marcos helped draft the statement issued by the Group of 77 developing countries. The official Philippine press gave the event

prominent billing. Expanding ties with the Muslim world was a fourth dimension of Marcos policy, designed to help interdict support for the rebel Moro forces. Imelda Marcos visited Egypt’s Anwar Sadat and Saudi Arabia’s King Khalid before the 1975 meeting of the Islamic Conference, where the Philippines offered Muslim autonomy in Mindanao and Sulu. The president received King Hussein of Jordan in Manila in March 1976

Garner Noble,

A

Claim

Independence (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1977); M. O. Ariff, The Philippines' Claim to Sabah: Its Historical, Legal and Political Implications (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1970); and Philippine Claim to North Borneo (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1964). I’^See Lela

Philippine Policy toward Sabah:

to

184

Filipino Politics

exchange ambassadors with Amman as he already had with Aigiersd^ In 1976 the Philippines signed a border defense agreement with Indonesia and in 1978 negotiated a tripartite accord, including Malaysia, “to counter insurgency and other security problems in the region.” Philippine policy toward Israel cooled. Nur Misuari, the Moro leader, was headquartered in Tripoli, which was also the source of most military aid for the insurgents, and Philippine government negotiators believed he was under the influence of Libya’s Muamar Khaddah. In a gesture of Filipino hospitality Marcos asked Khaddah to visit the Philippines, but the Libyan leader countered with his own invitation, and in early December 1976 the First Lady was sent as the president’s emissary. After hve days of meetings

and agreed

to

with Colonel

an interview

Khaddah and Foreign Minister Ali Treki, she conhded in that “Libya has become one of our hrmest allies. Se-

government team Imelda’s diplomacy of charm had not solved started a few days later. the Mindanao problem in fact, the Tripoli Agreement was not implemented but it had lessened violence there and had piled up some international credits. Indeed, Imelda Marcos may have persuaded Khaddah to cut military aid to the Bangsa Moro Army. rious negotiations between Misuari

and

a Philippine

—

—

U.S. Bases

While the effort to project the Philippine image as a successful, developing, nonaligned country may have been fun for the leadership, the effort to satisfy the military required some long, hard bargaining with the United States. For Marcos, moreover, it was much more important. Military leaders were American-trained and felt comfortable with close American connections, even though they rankled at overbearing “advice” from the Joint U.S. Military Advisory Group. They were familiar with American weapons, and an expanding armed forces required more of the latest U.S. arms and equipment. Yet this requirement emerged just as the Vietnam War was ending and the U.S. Congress was becoming less willing to vote military assistance for the Third World. By 1974, moreover, the “human rights bloc” in both House and Senate was growing in influence just as detailed reports of

Philippine Times,

Lumpur: Oxford

March

16, 1976.

See also T.

J. S.

George, Revolt

in

Mindanao (Kuala

University Press, 1980), pp. 252ff. Manila Journal, November 5, 1978. ^^Mbid., January 2, 1977. See also Peter Gowing, Muslim Filipinos: Heritage and Horizon (Quezon City: New Day, 1979), p. 220. See Michael Leifer in Manila Journal, January 9, 1977.

Foreign Policy

185

and torture of Philippine political dissidents began to reach Washington. By November 1975 the Senate had effectively banned aid to countries “which engage in torture, or cruel, inhuman or degrading punishment” if recommended by USAID. The follow-

arbitrary arrests

.

ing year the

.

.

human

rights language attached to the aid appropriation

was even stronger. Shortly after the hasty American evacuation from Saigon, in April

1975 Marcos called together his National Security Council to review Philippine defense. Partly out of shock at events in Indochina and partly in calculating his future, the president asked for a thorough review of the status of U.S. bases though the existing agreement was to run to 1991 suggesting that the Philippines might take them over, then negotiate new terms for their use by the United States. Fie complained, “These bases, like magnets, only invite attack by any nation hostile to the U.S.,” borrowing one of Senator Recto’s refrains. In Washington consternation prevailed until the strategy was understood: given the mood of the U.S. Congress, Marcos had to hnd a new means to get U.S. equipment. Familiar with U.S. base rental arrangements in Spain, Portugal, Turkey, and Greece, he perceived “rentals” as politically more certain than “aid.” If he could simultaneously assert Philippine sovereignty over the bases more effectively, he might satisfy students and intellectuals as well as the military. Anti-American stories began to appear more often in the controlled press. By July 1975 preliminary discussions had made it clear to both sides that negotiations should begin for amending the agreement on bases. Talks formally started in Washington in April 1976 (new trade and air transport treaties were also raised). Months passed, however, before it became known that the Philippines were asking for several billion dollars worth of U.S. military equipment as rentals (no other bases agreement called for U.S. payments of more that $250 million a year). The U.S. election seemed to put pressure on Marcos: it was assumed that Marcos would prefer to deal with Ford rather than Carter. But in December 1976, when lame duck Secretary Henry Kissinger offered Foreign Minister Carlos Romulo an agreement with payment of $1 billion over hve years, equally divided between military and economic aid, Manila demurred. Marcos, it appears, had overplayed his hand.^^

—

—

See Philippine Times, November 16—30, 1975; March 16—31, 1976. 23 Quoted by Bernard Wideman in Far Eastern Economic Review, reprinted in Philippine Times, May 16—31, 1976. ^"^New York Times, July 12, 1975. 25 The U.S. press reported that Romulo accepted the offer, but Ambassador Eduardo Romualdez claims that is a misrepresentation. See his A Question of Sovereignty: The Military Bases and Philippine American Relations, 1944—1979 (Manila, 1980), pp. 330—37.

186

Filipino Politics

few months of the Carter administration the U.S. bargaining position was strengthened. An assessment surfaced by the ambassador to Malaysia, Frank Underhill (formerly political counsellor in the Manila embassy), which recommended complete withdrawal, arguing that the bases perpetuated a neocolonial relationship and questioning Friends of.Guam suggested the base complex their cost-effectiveness. be moved there, for political security. A House Foreign Affairs Committee staff report recommended abandoning Clark Field in case Manila asked too high a price; its squadrons could operate from other In the

first

bases.

Whatever

effect these views

may have had on

the Marcos regime,

it

was quickly counteracted by spokesmen for the Pentagon affirming the great strategic importance of the bases. Richard Holbrooke, Carter’s nominee for assistant secretary of state for East Asia and the Pacihc, said in his conhrmation hearing that “our military facilities in the Philippines serve important national interests today” and that any agreement reached on the status of U.S. bases would include “an element of compensation. The Carter administration had made no signihcant alteration in Kissinger’s position.

In

fact,

events themselves conspired to

make

seem more new arguments In August 1975

the bases

important than ever to the Pentagon. One of the hrst used for base retention was that “the Chinese want it.” Newsweek had reported hints from Beijing that, should the United States withdraw, the Chinese themselves would want military bases in the Philippines to prevent Soviet influence there. Marcos may have been sufficiently prescient to have counted on this, but one could hardly credit him with foreknowledge of the other development in the Middle East. The Iranian revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan made Clark and Subic essential way stations to a new cradle of conflict. Marcos benehted. The nature of his regime made it easy for Marcos to orchestrate voices to build his bargaining position. The effectiveness of military alliances with the United States, after the debacle in Indochina, was

—

26 Reiterated in a statement before U.S.

House, Committee on Appropriations, Subcommittee on Foreign Operations, April 6, 1979 (mimeo). A former top CIA official had already made a similar recommendation, cited in Lt. Col. A. S. Britt, “US Military Bases in the Republic of the Philippines: Strategic Bastion or Pacific Trap” (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University, June 13, 1978). See also Alvin Cottrell and Frank Bray, “The U.S. Bases in the Philippines and U.S. Military Policy and Strategy in the Pacific” (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies, Georgetown University,

December

AFP

6,

1978).

dispatch in Manila Journal, April 17, 1977. March 20, 1977.

28 Ibid.,

Foreign Policy

again questioned.

By April 1977 another emotionally charged

187

criminal

had long bedeviled U.S. -Philippine relations, had emerged. Even though the three servicemen involved had been issued “duty certihcates” by their U.S. commander (a

jurisdictional dispute, of the sort that

prerequisite to the assertion of U.S. jurisdiction). Secretary of Justice

Vicente Abad Santos retorted that their actions “were not required or authorized to be done as a function of that duty” and that therefore the Philippines retained jurisdiction. Lawyers’ groups came to his sup-

determine whether American serduties when charged in criminal cases

port, asserting that the right to

vicemen are performing

official

should rest solely with Philippine authorities. It was widely believed that the April 1978 election for interim Batasang Pambasa was staged largely to impress Capitol Hill and speed negotiations to a successful conclusion.^® In September, still lacking an agreement, Marcos loosed new salvos designed both to consolidate support among Filipino nationalists and to shock the Americans. Deputy Foreign Minister Jose Ingles strongly hinted that neutralism might be the best course for the Philippines, but more dramatic was the denunciation of U.S. bases as an “insult to the Filipino nation” by the president’s daughter, national youth leader Imee Marcos. She said the bases were a threat to Philippine security, and her views were later endorsed by government-controlled labor, peasant, and women’s organizations, as well as being echoed by columnists in the official press. Marcos even tried to play the “Soviet card.” In early 1978 evidence began piling up about technical dehciencies in the Westinghouse plan for the hrst Filipino nuclear reactor; the American press also criticized Herminio Disini, husband of Imelda’s cousin, for taking a multimillion dollar “cut” on the deal. Imelda Marcos announced in retaliation that the Soviets had offered to build a nuclear power plant, but the Soviet ambassador had “no comment.” Later, as base negotiations came down to the wire, the Manila press reported a major Soviet arms deal in return for closing U.S. bases which the Soviet Embassy flatly denied. Both superpowers recognized that a “Soviet option” was purely

—

for show.

The turning

point in the negotiations was probably the October

of Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii to Manila.

^^Quoted

in ibid., April 3, 1977; see also

May

The

visit

senator explained

15, 1977.

Fox Butterfield in New York Times, April 17, 1978. Manila Journal, September 10, 1978; Sheilah Ocampo, “New Singer with Old Song,” Far Eastern Economic Review, September 15, 1978; Manila Journal, October 22, 1978. 32 AP dispatch of February 14, in Philippine Times, February 1-28, 1978; Kyodo (Tokyo), January 10, 1979.

— 188

Filipino Politics

more concessions, even if granted by the White House, might not hnd support in Congress. Nevertheless, Marcos kept up the public pressure. In late November to his personal friend, the president, that

his

minister of justice contended that the bases agreement was “a

document and while it remains ... we cannot claim genuine independence.”^^ Abad Santos thus indicated just how hard the Philip-

colonial

pines was pressing for criminal jurisdiction over U.S. base personnel.

On

Christmas day, 1978, after news reports indicated that an agreement was imminent, leading opposition hgures including seven former senators, three former Supreme Court justices and, surprisingly, former president Macapagal released a statement contending that “the rationale for the bases no longer exists. The Philippines faces no

—

—

credible external threat. [But] the truth

is

that U.S. bases [themselves]

pose such a clear and present danger to the very survival of the Filipino people and are so detrimental to their interests and their welfare that the bases should be dismantled immediately. Nor will ‘rentals’ or ‘compensations’ for the use of the bases conhrm the sovereignty of our people. On the contrary, these payments will support, strengthen and prolong dictatorship.”^^ The denunciation had no immediate effect on events but was undoubtedly a portent. The Anti-Bases Coalition led by former senator Tahada and the Nuclear Free Philippines Coalition organized by former senator Diokno focusing on the threat to Filipinos of the storage of nuclear weapons at the bases subsequently .

—

grew

into national

.

.

—

movements.

The amendment

1947 Military Bases Agreement was effected by an exchange of notes in Manila on January 7, 1979. American concessions included a 90 percent reduction in the 130,000 acre base area at Clark Field and a 45 percent reduction at Subic Bay, though, as a State Department “fact sheet” admitted, “these [new] areas are roughly equivalent to those we have actually been using and are under the command and control of U.S. Facility Commanders, whose freedom to conduct military operations continues as before.”^® The desigto the

nation “Philippine Bases” and flying the Filipino flag alongside the

American were cosmetic changes

that cost the

United States nothing

Minister of Justice quoted by Sheilah Ocampo, in Far Eastern Economic Review, 8, 1978. 34 Text in Philippine Times, January 13—19, 1979. 33 For an analysis providing back-up for these protest movements, see Rolando Simbulan. The Bases of our Insecurity (Quezon City: BALAl Fellowship, 1983). 36 A U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee staff report had in 1972 stated, “U.S. authorities note that nowhere in the world are we able to use our military bases with less restrictions than we do in the Philippines.” Quoted in Stephen Shalom, The U.S. and the Philippines: A Study of Neo-Colonialism (Philadelphia: ISHl, 1981), p. 101.

December

Foreign Policy

and

189

no true Filipino nationalist. In fact, handing responsibility for perimeter security to Philippine base commanders helped the United States to avoid the kind of “unfortunate incidents,” with Amersadsfied

ican guards killing destitute Filipino scavengers, that exacerbated the jurisdiction question. Despite the attention paid to the jurisdiction issue

during more than three years of negotiations, however, the United States agreed to no change. The biggest change was the promise of the U.S. president to “make his best effort” to obtain additional military appropriations of $500 million over a hve-year period. At the end of those hve years both sides would undertake “a complete and thorough review and reassessment of the Agreement.” The $500 million ($50 million in military grants, $250 million in sales credits, and $200 million in poorly dehned “security supporting assistance”) was not part of the agreement; it came only in a personal letter from Carter to Marcos. The terms “rent” and “compensation” were assiduously avoided, and so was “economic aid,” though Marcos assured the press that in addition such aid “could reach $100 million per year.”^^ Rumor said that if one looked at sources of in the Philippines

from congressional appropriations, the amount might be even greater. For instance, on January 4, the day Carter sent his letter on military assistance to Marcos, the U.S. ExportImport Bank announced an $85 million credit line to the Philippine government. Officials avoided any direct comparison of the abortive 1976 agreement and that signed in 1979. While Carter had rejected Kissinger’s formal commitment to $500 million in economic aid, the 1979 agreement was much more generous than the 1976 version in U.S. aid to the Philippines aside

returning base lands to the Philippines. Did Marcos gain by waiting? Nonmonetary provisions went unmentioned in most press coverage, but according to George Kahin in U.S. House testimony, they posed an increased danger of U.S. forces helping hght Filipino battles.^® Marcos later insisted that he had no intention of allowing foreign forces to intervene in domestic conflict.^^ One amendment (Annex III, para. 6) specihed, however, that “U.S. Comoff the base in accordmanders may participate in security activities .

.

.

ance with mutually agreed procedures [and] shall contribute security forces to carry out the agreed security plan.” Though Clark Field is located in a one-time Huk stronghold, dissident activity was slight when the amended bases agreement was signed. But more recently NPA UPI

dispatch in Philippine Times, January 13-19, 1979. ^®Text in Philippine Times, May 12—18, 1979, pp. 5, 19. ^^Sheilah Ocampo, “Philippine Bases and American Guns,” Far Eastern Economic

^^Quoted

Review,

in

March

7,

1980,

p. 16.

190

Filipino Politics

strength, both military

and

political,

has

grown

rapidly,

and Kahin’s

be realized than when he wrote: “If the safety of U.S. base personnel were threatened it is widely understood that no American President would be likely to wait for Congressional assent before committing local U.S. troops to combat.” With the completion of negotiations, Marcos had more than doubled the level of military assistance for hve years, assured his armed forces of American support in maintaining internal order while raising the Philippine flag over formerly “U.S. bases,” and consolidated support among that still large segment of the Filipino people favorably impressed by American endorsement of their leaders. But many others regretted the failure to gain wider criminal jurisdiction over U.S. personnel. The same kinds of problems quickly resurfaced. For instance, in June 1979 the Ministry of Justice rejected the U.S. request to exercise jurisdiction when an American serviceman was charged with strangling a nightclub hostess.^® The difficult questions, such as jurisdiction, were ignored in the next hve-year review, completed much more quickly than expected. The June 1, 1983, agreement gave the Philippines $900 million, or nearly twice the previous one; the grant component was also higher and the interest rates lower. Marcos basked in the Reagan glow. fears have .

.

become more

likely to

.

Foreign Economic Policy

Probably the most important task for foreign policy under Marcos was to mobilize international resources for economic growth. The president was most conscious of the reaction of the economic elite; they were also the prime benehciaries of his efforts. But without a more general sense of economic progress, he realized, he could lose legitimacy in the eyes of the Filipino people as a whole. Certainly economic growth was the prime justihcation for continuing what Marcos was wont to call “crisis government.” It has already been suggested that U.S. economic assistance was informally a part of the amended agreement on military bases. To get aid or concessionary credit, recipient states must pursue policies consistent with those of the donor or creditor. Despite official claims that aid planning was based on assessed needs and recipient country requests, U.S. aid clearly supported approved regimes. AID loans and Manila Journal, June 25, 1979. Asian Wall Street Journal, June Factor: Realpolitik of

RP-US

1983. For text see Patricia Ann Paez, The Bases Relations (Manila: Center for Strategic and International 1,

Studies of the Philippines, 1985), pp. 452—56.

Foreign Policy

191

grants to the Philippines in the four years prior to martial law totaled

$56.2 million, compared to $240.5 million in the next four years. Concessional loans from U.S. government corporations the Export Import Bank, the Overseas Private Investment Corporation, and the Commodity Credit Corporation were even more important and

—

—

showed the same trend: $509.3 million in hscal 1973—76. sensitive category of aid,

AID

million in hscal 1969—72, $1,097.1

grants and loans, the most politically

saw the greatest jump

in the hrst year after the

declaration of martial law, hscal 1973, to $85.7 million from $30.5 million the year before. Washington clearly approved the collapse of

democracy and the institution of martial rule with new economic policies. Manila, on the other hand, declared martial law in part Filipino

manipulate the international environment. The new economic policies were designed primarily to attract new private investment. The framework had been enacted before martial law in the Investment Incentives Act of 1967 and the Export Incentives Act of 1970, but the attractiveness of these incentives was greatly increased in 1972 and 1973 by presidential decree. Decrees guaranteed full repatriation of capital and prohts, liberalized remittances of royalties, eased entrance and clearance requirements for multinational executives (making Manila the least expensive Asian city for corporate

to

dehned retail trade in a way favorable to foreign investors, and opened up many new areas of the economy to 100 percent foreign investment.^^ Nevertheless, as the World Bank admitted, “The headquarters),

actual increment in investments that was or will be induced by

.

.

.

tax

seems to of course unknown. Cursory evidence suggest that much of the investment would have been effected even without incentives.”'^^ Foreign investment did, in fact, grow at an increasing rate after 1972, and the government claimed credit. The World Bank was reluctant to mention another incentive, low wages, but the Marcos regime was bolder. One New York Times advertisement concessions ...

is

.

.

.

proclaimed: “Labor costs for the foreign company setting up a plant in Manila could work out from 35 to 50% lower than they would in either Hong Kong or Singapore. New foreign investments approved by the Central Bank increased

Rivera, Logistics of Repression and Other Essays (Washington, D.C.: Friends of the Filipino People, 1977), p. 50, derived from official sources. 43 Bernardino Ronquillo, “Martial Law Reforms,” Far Eastern Economic Review, June 18, 1973, p. 58; Russel Cheetham and Edward Hawkins, The Philippines (Washington, D.C.:

Walden Bello and Severina

World Bank, 1976), pp. 328—331. 44 Cheetham and Hawkins, pp. 332-33. 45 July 28, 1974.

192

Filipino Politics

dramatically after the declaration of martial law. Actual remittances

jumped from

than $20 to more than $120 million from 1972 to 1973 though in the next hve years they never exceeded $136 million. Over 21 percent of these investments were simply reinvested prohts and dividends. Thus it is clear that a brief period of euphoria in the business community was followed by waning enthusiasm. Net direct investment declined precipitously for three years from 1978.^^ New investments in constant dollars steadily declined. The inconsistencies and lack of clarity that had bedeviled businessgovernment relations before martial law had not disappeared. Policy was shaped by the tensions created by constant pressure from dissatished Filipino businessmen (of a more nationalistic bent) on the policymaking technocrats, who were ideologically attuned to the multinational corporations and the World Bank group. For instance, in 1977 the Board of Investments (BOI) removed most incentives in the banana industry where multinationals were making more than the maximum allowable 33.3 percent return on investment. In the same year the Central Bank attempted to restrict the peso borrowing of foreign hrms, which had become a major issue. U.S. Ambassador William Sullivan objected, however, and the restrictions were modihed.'^® In mid- 1978 the Board of Investments, perhaps worried about less

frightening away foreign capital, announced plans to

move

instead in a

June the board indicated that it might lower export requirements for incentives to wholly foreign-owned corporations. The following year it revealed that it was drafting new incentives for foreign corporations in energy-related projects. Yet from persons liberalizing direction. In

intimately involved with foreign corporations, complaints reminiscent

of the late 1960s were heard. Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation president David SyCip said that new investments were being impeded by “a political and economic atmosphere that tends to regulate and not encourage foreign participation in the country’s economy,” citing as example a “complicated system making it difficult for industries to acquire large tracts of land.”^^ Even Marcos could not fully satisfy the .

.

.

.

.

.

multinationals.

Bank figures in Manila Journal, January 22, 1979. World Bank/IMF data in Walden Bello et al., Development Debacle: The World Bank

'^^Central 47

the Philippines

(San Francisco: Institute for Food and Development

Policy, 1982),

Table

in 8.

Manila Journal, February 6, 1977. 49 See Renato Constantino, The Nationalist Alternative (Quezon City: Foundation for Nationalist Studies, 1979), p. 35. Manila Journal, Tuned 1, 1978; Asian Wall Street Journal, reprinted in Philippine Times,

September 10, 1979. Quoted 'm Manila Journal, September

24, 1978.

Foreign Policy

Nearly a quarter of

all

new

193

foreign investment after 1972 was in

banking and financial institutions, the result of perhaps the most signihcant opening for foreign capital which Marcos provided. By the late 1970s more than 30 percent of bank assets were in foreign hands compared to only 8 percent in 1966. Twelve foreign banks, mostly American, entered into partnerships with Filipino commercial banks, making it even easier for American hrms to get bank credit in the Philippines. (The incentive for the partnerships was a new minimum capitalization of FI 00 million; as a consequence, American-controlled corporations in the Philippines relied on local borrowing for 50 percent of their expansion. Of twelve of the twenty-one private commercial banks in the Philippines in 1979, six had substantial and potentially controlling foreign interests, either American or Japanese. The banks themselves, despite regulations forbidding the practice, had 684 director interlocks with 305 hnancial, manufacturing, and commercial enterprises.

Thus foreign

capital

and foreign bank directors had

a

pervasive influence on the economy.^^

This integration of Philippine financial affairs with those of the great banking houses of New York and Tokyo undoubtedly made it easier for Marcos to pursue another dimension of his foreign economic policy goals, ever greater foreign credits for both government and business. Attracting massive credits was, after martial law, primarily a question of convincing, or pleasing, a single institutional complex: the World Bank

and International Monetary Fund and its Consultative Group for the Philippines.^'^ So influential was this complex that Philippine options were few. If the Bank ceased to lend to the Philippines, so would other international organizations and private banks. While the membership of the Consultative Group seemed diverse, Americans dominated. Not only is the United States the largest stockholder in both the Bank and the Fund (both use weighted voting procedures), reserving the right to

name

the bank’s president, but in

the early 1970s, 41 percent of top managers in the

Bank were American

For the period 1971-76. See Hilarian M. Henares, Jr., “Financial Structure and Capital Movement of Foreign Corporations in the Philippines,” in Wilfrido Clemente, Froilan Bacungan, and Federico Laxa, eds.. Multinational Corporations in the Philippines (Manila; Technology Resource Center [1979?]). 53 See John F. Doherty, A Preliminary Study of Interlocking Directorates (Quezon City, 52

1979). 54 The Consultative

Group, an informal group that coordinates aid to the Philippines from national and international sources, was formed in 1970 and is chaired by the World Bank. Member organizations included the International Monetary Fund, and the Asian Development Bank. Member states were Australia, Belgium, Canada, France, West Germany, Iran, Italy, Japan, New Zealand, Spain, United Kingdom, United States, and Yugoslavia. Cheetham and Hawkins, p. 13.

194

Filipino Politics

After the formation of the Consultative Group, the Philippines, the focus of American interests in the Pacihc, was designated a “country of concentration” to which the flow of aid would be “higher

citizens.

In fact, U.S. than average for countries of similar size and income. government spokesmen have contended that “through the multilateral banks the U.S. can promote economic development, with all its potential benefits for the U.S., at a lower cost than through bilateral lending.”^®

The

and its relation to U.S. bilateral aid was obvious. From independence through 1973 the World Bank and its “soft loan” counterpart, the International Development Association (IDA), loaned the Philippines $301 million; from 1974 through 1978 the amount was $1.34 billion. As late as 1973 U.S. government grants and loans to Manila were five times as great as World Bank loans; but by 1975 the ratio was nearly reversed, with $208 million coming from the bank and $68 million from the United States. If one includes the loans of other members of the Consultative Group, the Asian Development Bank (ADB), and the IMF, the change was not as drastic but the trend was the same. By 1981 the U.S. government contribution of $86 million was dwarfed by $700 million from the four international agencies (including $475 million from the World Bank) and even $200 million from Japan in bilateral aid.^^ Moreover, the rate of increase of World Bank and IDA lending to Manila between 1973 and 1976 had been at 1,060 percent, far higher than for any other recipient; Indonesia, at 239 percent, was the next highest. As important as intergovernmental agencies became as a source of credit, private banks were nearly equivalent. In 1978 the Philippines sought $950 million in commercial loans from private international banks at the going interest rate, compared to under $800 million from both bilateral and multilateral government sources.^® The largest single component was $500 million from a single eighty-bank syndicate, the agent-coordinator of which was Manufacturers Hanover Trust of priority given to the Philippines

—

New

York. This pattern

is

part of an international trend, with the

commercial bank share of the tries rising

Bello

from 17 percent

total

in

foreign debt of developing coun-

1970

to

40 percent a decade

later.

and Rivera, pp.

95, 100. Congressional Research Service, Library of Congress, The United States and the Multinational Development Banks (Washington, D.C., 1974), p. 131, quoted in ibid., p. 100. Bello and Rivera, pp. 93, 95. 58 Statement of acting assistant director. Bureau for Asia, AID, before Subcommittee

on Asia and Pacihc Affairs of the 1981 (mimeo) p. 7. 59 Interview with

U.S. House,

Committee on Foreign

Cesar Virata, Manila Journal, January Far Eastern Economic Review, March 27, 1981, p. 57.

8,

1977.

Affairs,

March

31,

Foreign Policy

195

on the basis of assurances of viability provided by the World Bank and the Consultative Group. Should the Bank decide that Philippine policies could no longer assure repayment, even in the long run, then private banks would cease expanding credit. But in fact Philippine government policies until the early 1980s were designed to elicit a positive evaluation from the world’s top bankers. Nor has that design been a purely Filipino innovation. In a conhdential memorandum prepared in 1976 a World Bank officer gave us an insider’s view of relations with economic policy makers in the Philippine government. According to Michael Gould’s Private banks act largely

memorandum. The Bank ment.

.

.

.

continues to have a close working relationship with the Govern-

The

[Bank’s] basic

economic report proposes a broad framework for

Government has accepted as a basis for its The Bank can play a major role because the Bank staff advice. An active Bank presence also has

future development, which the future economic plans.

Government

is

.

.

receptive to

.

.

.

.

the effect of strengthening the position of the highly trained technical lead-

ership in the

Government and helping them

to achieve policy objectives

which

we endorse.

World Bank influence penetrated the core of policy formulation. Top economists in the Philippine government, the “technocrats,” read the same books, attended the same schools, and accepted the same assumptions as World Bank staff. “A close working relationship” meant, in fact, that World Bank officers gained some legitimacy within the Philippine policy process.

Bank

influence has always pushed policy in the direction of “freeing

the market of controls” and “removing barriers to free trade.”

IMF

pressure imposed a devaluation on Marcos in 1970, a severe blow to Filipino manufacturers for the domestic market who mainly imported foreign components. In 1976 the Marcos regime committed itself to three years of “close economic supervision” by the IMF in exchange for a $280 million loan. A 1979 IMF loan of $190 million to cover a

balance-of-payments shortfall had similar restrictions.®^ The Philippines was required to abolish price controls, tighten credit, and sharply reduce tariffs, which helped cause unemployment. Similar conditions

were attached

to loans in the 1980s.

The cumulative World Bank,

effect of increased

AEADB

Division, “Philippines:

borrowing was a

total foreign

Country Program Paper” (confidential

draft prepared by Michael Gould, March 26, 1976), cited in Bello and Rivera, p. 97. ®2See Cheryl Ann Payer, “Exchange Controls and National Capitalism: The Philip-

pine Experience,” /owrna/ of Contemporary Asia 3, 1 (1973), 68. Asian Wall Street Journal, August 15, 1979; Manila Journal, June 18, 1979.

196

Filipino Politics

debt (both public and private) that grew from $600 million in 1965 to $2.2 billion in 1972, nearly $9 billion at the end of hscal 1979, and almost twice that by the end of 1982. During the hve years 1972—76 total foreign loans grew by an average of 22.6 percent per year. The government’s portion of this debt grew by 36.4 percent per year in the same period, driving the private portion of total accumulated foreign debt below the hfty percent mark in 1977.®^ The largest identihable component of the debt at the beginning of hscal 1978 was 28 percent to the United States, with 15 percent to Japan, 8 percent to the IMF, and 6 percent to the World Bank. The widespread use of commercial bank syndicates to float large loans has

made

it

difficult to identify the

national sources of loans. (By. 1983 Japan was reported to have forged

ahead of the United States as leading creditor.) Officially the debtservice ratio (payments of principal and interest as a percentage of exports) remained below the legal maximum of 20 percent, because the Philippines used “foreign exchange receipts” in calculating that ratio. Thus a high level of borrowing could make up for a low level of exports, since loan proceeds were added to foreign exchange receipts. The debt-service ratio was estimated to be over 28 percent by the narrower dehnition as early as 1982, further emphasizing the country’s dependence on foreign borrowing.®^ Whatever dangers a rising foreign debt might entail, especially with soaring interest rates. President Marcos seemed to have no hesitation about relying on external credit. In his 1979 speech to the Interim Batasang Pambansa he decried the “timidity” of both government and business in borrowing abroad and called for “boldness” in seeking external funds.®® Some viewed his comments as a rebuke to his own economic policy makers, but others believed that he was actually addressing foreign creditors that it was more of an appeal than a rebuke. In any case, it was the beginning of economic disaster for the

—

Philippines.

Dependence

to

Autonomy?

The major achievements

of Marcos’s foreign policy were more U.S. military aid, renewal of the bases agreement, accelerated inflow of private investment, and expanded foreign credits from public and private sources. Was the outcome greater or lesser autonomy for the Manila Journal, May 8, 1977; November 5, 1978. Far Eastern Economic Review, March 27, 1981, p. 57; see also Bello Debacle, Table 7.

Manila Journal, September

3,

1979.

et al..

Development

Foreign Policy

197

Philippines within the international system? Certainly Marcos claimed greater autonomy. His “opening to the left,” which saw diplomatic and

trade

ties

Communist

with

countries, was his most dramatic

reminder

of this claim. Others, however, asserted that he was slipping into ever greater dependency. The Civil Liberties Union of the Philippines (CLUP) was sure of its grounds: “Marcos has so deepened depen.

dence on the U.S. that Philippines,

it

[it]

is

.

.

.

.

.

the root of our problems.”®^

asserted, was a “neocolony” of the United States.®®

The The

outcome had become an added constraint for future policy makers. Dependence, a widely used term in the literature on the Third World, is a measurable economic relationship in which aid, credit, and investment come overwhelmingly from a single larger power, which is also the major trading partner. The greater the dependence, the narrower is the decision-making latitude of leaders in the lesser power. But dependent powers may vary in the degree to which their political processes are penetrable by greater powers, just as the latter vary in their desire to intervene in their dependents.

Neocolonialism, on the other hand,

is

term hrst popularized

a

in

Southeast Asia by President Sukarno of Indonesia. It involves not only structural economic dependence but a particular kind of political culture as well one that justihes penetration by the metropole. In this relationship the metropole assumes prerogatives not unlike those of a classical colonial power but short of the sovereign right of command. Neocolonialism is most often the aftermath of legal colonial rule, as in the Philippines. A dehnition more typical of the dependency school of political analysis is that neocolonialism is “an alliance between the

—

leading class or classes of two independent nations which facilitates their ability to maintain a dominant position over the rest of the

population of the weaker of the two nations. elites are important; however, this dehnition the Philippines, for

it

The mutual is

interests of

too narrow, at least for

misses the attitudinal dimension. As Onofre

Corpuz pointed out about

perceptions in the early 1960s, “through education and long exposure to American culture, many Filipinos in public life had become rather Americanized. They were almost incapable of seeing anything wrong in America, and they autoelite

®^CLUP, “Neo-Colonialism: Root of Our Discontent,” May p.

28,

1979 (Manila, mimeo),

20.

®®The term “neo-colonialism” Tragedy: Neo-Colonialism and

is

also used by William

Dictatorship in the Philippines

and Alejandro Lichauco, The Lichauco Paper: Monthly Review, 1973), pp. 9ff. Shalom,

p. xiv.

J.

Pomeroy, An American Made

(New York:

International, 1974),

Imperialism in the Philippines

(New York:

A 198

Filipino Politics

on political issues, both local and foreign.”^® Many peasants, workers, and middle-class citizens though their number is declining also accept the legitimacy of American intervention. The most extreme illustration was the Statehood movement; even in 1981 perhaps a million Filipinos wanted to be annexed to matically took the U.S. position

—

—

the United States.

The

metropolitan leadership, both economic and

while assumed a Council

its

own

right to interfere.

mean1964 from

political,

A book that grew in

on Foreign Relations study group on the Philippines

best

expressed metropolitan assumptions of this right: “It is essential that U.S. policy be directed in fact and in theory to the task of imaginative participation in the political and economic development of the Philippines. Such a policy calls for considerable U.S. participation in the internal affairs of the Philippines.” Aware of the perpetuation of “certain attitudes that took shape under the colonial period,” the volume concluded: “So long as present dangers [the Cold War] persist, it is to be hoped that we can convince the Filipinos that what is good for the United States is good for the Philippines.”^^ The Magsaysay era was the heyday of American neocolonialism in the Philippines. Some would argue that President Marcos’s acceptance of a secret deal to hnance Filipino troops in Vietnam was later evidence of the same phenomenon, but the incident indicated a change in American style. The open gave way to the clandestine as nationalism was on the rise. After the declaration of martial law, American officials in the Philippines felt, access to information from Philippine government agencies was signihcantly limited, not to mention access to the decision-making process. That process was, of course, much more closed to Filipinos as well as to foreigners than before 1972. Yet precisely because it was closed, high-level American intervention was also more easily hidden. Two incidents made clear a continuing neocolonial bent. In April 1976 former president Macapagal, who had just begun to circulate a book very critical of Marcos, drove to the residence of the American ambassador, only a few blocks from his own home, and asked for asylum, saying that the military were about to arrest him. The ambassador was out of the country; embassy officials, after consultation with Washington, decided not to grant asylum but got assurances from Marcos that no harm would come to Macapagal. leading opposition .

.

.

D. Corpuz, The Philippines (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1965), p. 18. See George Taylor, The Philippines and the United States: Problems of Partnership (New York: Praeger, 1964), pp. 3-4, 298, 291-92. See Philippine Times, November 1, 1976.

Foreign Policy

figure regarded the U.S. ambassador as his best protection,

199

and the

Embassy, while refusing asylum, did protect him. More than four years later, just before the end of the Carter admin-

former senator Benigno Aquino discussed opposition tactics with Assistant Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke and the possibility of Aquino’s becoming prime minister, topics that Holbrooke had already discussed with President Marcos. A leading American official thought it appropriate to act as a go-between for government and opposition, he said, “to avoid violence.” The neocolonial mentality in the Philippines clearly was not dead, but an autocracy could more easily istration,

conceal

One

its

behavioral consequences.

neocolonial institution, which rankled

many

was allowed to die parity. The Laurel-Langley Trade Agreement, which prolonged “national” status for U.S. businessmen, expired in 1974. Some commentators believe that fear of the loss of this special status was a major factor in causing the American business community in the Philippines to applaud the imposition of martial law. Marcos softened the blow, by prolonging the period in which Americans could transfer rights over landholdings, for instance, and sanctioning mechanisms by which American landowners lost title but not use of or effective control over the land. But even with his absolute powers under martial law Marcos did not try to prolong the legal status. There is other evidence that economic dependence on the United States declined in the 1970s. The American share of cumulative registered foreign investment dropped from 49.6 percent in 1967—71 to 30.1 percent in 1975—77.^^ U.S. government development loan assistance also declined from 27 percent of the total in the 1960s to 15 The same thing can be said for trade depenpercent in the 1970s. dence: the U.S. share of Philippine imports dropped from 29.3 percent in 1970 to 20.6 percent in 1977, and of exports from 39.6 percent in 1970 to 23.3 percent in 1977.^^ In fact, Philippine trade diversihcation was so successful that combined U.S. -Japanese shares also declined in the same period: imports by 14 percent and exports by 22 percent. In the helds of investment and credit, however, Japan’s role increased, partly as a result of the initiatives of the Marcos regime. The Treaty of Amity, Commerce and Navigation, which was signed in 1960 but never ratihed by the Philippine Senate, was hnally ratihed in DeFilipinos,

—

Donald Crane, “Emerging Trends in the Control of Foreign Investment in ASEAN” (paper delivered at the annual meeting of the Canadian Asian Studies Association, Montreal, May 1980), Table 4. ^^See Journal of Philippine Development 3, 2 (1976), 523. '^^UN Yearbook of International Trade, 1978, vol. 1, p.I 889.

200

Filipino Politics

cember 1973 by

presidential decree.

Three years

trade deficits

later, as

piled up, the Philippines expressed a desire to renegotiate but extended

the old treaty every six months until a new one was finally signed in May 1979.^^ Meanwhile, Japanese credits and investments rose. From

1970 to 1976 Japan’s share of development loan assistance increased from 7 percent to 19 percent, growing absolutely from $23.5 million to $308.4 million. Then in November 1978 Japan extended its biggest loan package to the Philippines, amounting to $180 million. By 1978 Japanese investments, a negligible amount before 1972, had risen to 21 percent of all those approved by the Central Bank. In 1975, in fact, new Japanese investments, at $62.6 million, were greater than the American. Japan was also the source of 12 percent of the cumulative external public debt of the Philippines by 1979, and with the United States the combined share of the two major creditors was 39 percent. In some sense the Philippines was shifting from dependence on the United States to dependence on a Japanese-American condominium. By the early 1980s the United States dominated trade while Japan had

and investment. Nor are those involved unconscious of the trend. According to Robert Pringle,

the upper

hand

in credit

A decade

ago most American traders and investors in Southeast Asia regarded Japanese economic expansion as a dangerous source of competition. More recently, while rivalry has remained a factor, there has been a general shift in perception toward awareness of the complementary character of American and Japanese activities. It has been obvious for some time that as overall levels of trade and investment in SE Asia rise, everyone benefits and the U.S. and lapan share the same range of concerns and problems vis-a-vis the entire Third World. 79 .

Many

.

.

an even closer cooperation.^^ Indeed, there was some evidence that President Marcos made an attempt in 1977 to secure Japanese military assistance as a balance to his reliance on American arms.^^ But the Japanese refused, clearly reluctant to be used as a bargaining ploy against the United States in the bases negotiaFilipinos perceived

tions.

Manila Journal,

May

8,

1977, April

2,

May

14, 1979.

November 19, 1978; January 22, 1979; Mamoru Tsuda, A Preliminary Study of Japanese-Filipino Joint Ventures (Manila; Foundation for Nationalist Studies, 1978) p. 3. 7'^

78 Central

Bank data

cited in Cesar Virata,

Development,” Fookien Times Philippines Yearbook, 79 Pringle, p. 136. 80 See for instance, Francisco

de Leon, “Japan Surrogate for U.S.,”

April 10, 1977.

^^New

“The Role of Borrowing 1980 (Manila), p. 108.

York Times, April 28, 1977.

in

in

Economic

Manila Journal,

Foreign Policy

201

In effect, Marcos the national leader was reproducing a pattern of behavior common among individual Filipinos. In seeking greater au-

tonomy

for individual action, Filipinos regard

it

as too

dangerous

to

or abandon, all patrons. The less powerful must retain a link with the more powerful in order to secure protection in a difficult and unpredictable environment. The preferred tactic is to multiply patrons. Yet the individual Filipino often faces the dilemma that the Philippines experienced: patrons may cooperate to protect their common interests, reject,

restricting the client’s

freedom

to

maneuver.

Conclusion

At the beginning of the 1980s any assessment of Philippine foreign relations would have had to admit there was little change in the overwhelming American dominance in military affairs. In the economic area, American dominance had been altered by the sharing of responsibility with Japan and the complex of institutions centered on the World Bank.®2 In matters of economic development policy, however, top World Bank and IMF officials shared a clear consensus with the United States and Japan. The Bank even followed the neocolonial American practice of sending its staff to Manila to participate in Philippine government decision making, although many fewer Filipinos regarded the practice as legitimate than had accepted American intervention in the 1950s. Bishop Julio Labayen put the relationship in familiar Filipino terms: “Like a tenant

Philippines has

become

bound

to his landlord, the

tied to foreign creditors, incurring

new

debts

pay off existing ones, each new debt imposing more restricting conditions on how to run the national economy.”^^ The capital used by the world banking system to establish economic dominance in the Philippines came to a considerable degree in the late to

1970s and early 1980s from recycled OPEC surpluses. Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and other countries with huge oil revenues even attempted to establish their own institutions for channeling capital to developing countries.®^ Such endeavors were still quite small compared to those of ®2See Robert Stauffer, “The Philippine Development Model; Global Contradictions, Crises and Costs” (paper delivered at 2d International Philippines Studies Conference, Honolulu, June 27-30, 1981). Also Osvaldo Sunkel and Edmundo F. Fuenzalida, “Transnationalism and Its National Consequences,” in Jose Villamil, ed.. Transnational Capitalism and National Development: New Perspectives on Dependence (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities, 1979).

Quoted

June—July 1979, p. 8. s^See Ian Peacock, “Recycling: Beyond Even the Dreams of Avarice,” Far Eastern in Philippine Liberation Courier,

Economic Review, March 27, 1981, pp. 44—46.

202

Filipino Politics

the established institutions at the center of world capitalism.

And in any

long as the Philippine government was shooting at Muslims, it was not likely to get preferred treatment from Arab lenders. Thus the possibility of achieving genuine diversity in the search for economic resources seemed remote. We started this discussion of Philippine foreign policy asserting that decision makers sought primarily to achieve domestic aims, and we have concluded that the Philippines is a kind of dependency. But there case, as

no contradiction here. Both dominant power and dependent elite wanted to preserve domestic stability. Conflicts between the metropole and neocolony are more tactical than strategic, peripheral to shared elite interests.®^ Thus Marcos. and Washington shared a desire to continue the military bases; they clashed only on the conditions. Nor was is

diplomatic diversification inconsistent with the survival of neocolonialism, for it did not alter dominant military and economic relations.

Nevertheless, within the existing constraints, Marcos and his advisers

achieved considerable success in foreign policy, certainly more than he achieved in his domestic programs. Most of the immediate goals were accomplished. He interdicted some aid to rebels and gained U.S. assistance for his military, all the while dampening nationalist criticism with other tactics. Temporarily he even gained some autonomy. Marcos understood the main currents of change in the world political economy

and manipulated them to his benefit, at least until the 1980s. But the way he used the resources he acquired was disastrous for his regime. From the late 1970s, furthermore, economic difficulties pushed Marcos to escalate debt dependence even in the face of rising interest rates, while the expansion of the insurgency also made him more reliant on American arms. The nature of neocolonialism causes dependent elites in jeopardy to look

abroad for support rather than make concessions

to

mass demands that threaten their own control. The degree of Philippine dependence itself undermined regime survival. The very intimacy of Marcos’s alliance with the Washington political elite, especially after the election of Ronald Reagan, became a cause of his downfall. On the one hand it fed the rise of nationalism, as Filipinos placed more and more blame on Reagan as the source of their oppression; on the other, the patterns of neocolonial intervention

turned against Marcos after his clumsy assassination of Ninoy Aquino. American pressure helped produce an investigation that implicated General Ver, and the substantial American funding for a national ®^See Shalom,

p.

186.

Foreign Policy

203

organization to monitor the February 1986 elections provided Cory

Aquino with the

statistics that

electoral victory.

The young

allowed her to

officers

make

a credible claim to

whose coup plans triggered the

break between Marcos and Enrile have admitted at least to “close communication” with the U.S. Embassy for months in advance. The departure of the Marcoses from the Philippines on a USAF plane was the ultimate symbol of the trap that neocolonialism had laid. The preservation of the regime was no longer consistent with U.S. interests. In the hrst year of her administration President Aquino paid little attention to foreign policy; domestic issues were more pressing. Thus a discrepancy emerged. While the euphoria of People Power imagined a new era of national autonomy, the son of a famous nationalist, VicePresident Laurel, promoted patronage in the foreign service and allowed the restoration of certain neocolonialist tendencies. By late 1987, with the “resignation” of Laurel and the appointment of Raul Manglapus as secretary of foreign affairs, foreign policy was given new weight and sophistication. But military relations with the United States remained at the top of the agenda.

Opposition to Martial

8

Law

The

nature of the political opposition in any system is largely determined by the nature of the regime, and in the Philippines there was a sharp break in the pattern of opposition with the declaration of martial law. Through the late 1970s, martial law prompted essentially three types of opposition: the reformist, the religious, and the revolutionary.^

At the end of a generation of constitutional government the revolutionary opposition was of only minor importance. It worked on a plane distinct from the reformist, electoral opposition, without coordination and with very little communication. Opposition from the church as an institution had been sporadic and narrowly focused; in fact, little had happened since an uproar in the 1950s over the use of Jose Rizal’s novels as high school texts, though the archbishop of Manila was always quite influential and groups inspired, organized, or led by clergy became important in certain social sectors and regions, among them the Federation of Free Farmers and the Christian Social Movement. In 1972 martial law altered the role of the electoral opposition dramatically. In the two decades before martial law only legal political parties

had

fulfilled all

opposition functions, though they were weak on

presenting alternative goals and strong on criticism. (In fact, the goals of the two major parties hardly differed, so they debated lesser questions.) After 1972, however, those parties were rendered less effective than either the religious or the revolutionary oppositions. Their highly personalized structures, based primarily on the expectation of material gain, were suddenly deprived of access to fuel for their machines. They faded rapidly some have said “collapsed” in the face of arrests, cooptation, and initially severe restrictions. The parties’ fate thus con-

—

1

See the definition of opposition

(New Haven:

—

set forth in

Yale University Press, 1973),

p.

Robert Dahl, ed., Regimes and Opposition

143.

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

205

tributed to the illusion, reported by the foreign press as late as 1973, that there was no significant opposition to the “New Society.”

The Reformist Opposition

The

surviving elements of the national political parties, the most dedicated of the leaders in Manila, constituted the “elite opposition.”

Former members of Congress had been within the ruling elite and a few, “Ninoy” Aquino and Gerry Roxas among them, came from families in the economic elite. Many, however, were only of upper-middle class status, and some, such as Jose Diokno, were quite vocal in their attacks on the oligarchy. For want of a better term, this elite has also been called the “legal opposition” even though Marcos occasionally jailed them, essentially for being oppositionists.

were a “reformist opposition,” since

More

accurately they

advocated political reforms and some professed support for a degree of socioeconomic reform. All followed nonviolent tactics, and they differed substantially, on ends as well as means, from the revolutionary opposition. They were tolerated by Marcos, especially after 1974, as long as they were ineffective in mobilizing a mass following and developed no viable plan for replacing him. (He deliberately kept the boundaries of the acceptable both vague and uncertain.) Martial law removed the motive for aggregating interests, or building coalitions, and so there was even less unity than in the major political parties before 1972. President Marcos was, moreover, a master at spreading dissension among his opponents. Thus opposition organizations emerged, cleaved, and faded with great rapidity, both at the national and at the regional levels. Disunity within the reformist opposition also refiected the diversity of interests and the lack of a common ideology within the middle class. The reformers shared certain values, such as support for the rule of law, constitutional legitimacy, free elections, and the protection of personal freedoms, and they agreed on the need to replace Marcos. But they agreed on little else. On nationalism, land reform, and the autonomy of labor organizations there was everything from explicit demands to complete silence. Once discussion went beyond the basic characteristics of the political process, the question of what to reform was a all

divisive one.

Both age and proximity to the action helped differentiate political stance. Older oppositionists, without the prospect of holding power after the demise of the New Society, could be more principled and bolder in their protest former senator Lorenzo Tanada, in his eighties, a respected maverick since the 1940s, being the most obvious

—

206

Filipino Politics

Some younger men who felt they still had a career ahead of them were more tactical in their thinking. On the other hand, some

example.

seemed conhned by their past experithirties and forties were more imaginative,

well-established political hgures

ence, while

more

many

in their

willing, for instance, to

break out of the patron-client structure to

seek mass support.

Former senator Raul Manglapus, founding president of the Movement for a Free Philippines in the United States, in part because of the source of his support and the nature of the policy makers he was trying sometimes took a different stance (less nationalistic, for instance) from key Manila oppositionists though usually attempting coordination with them. While Benigno (“Ninoy”) Aquino was in the Philippines, his imprisonment caused an isolation that helped create rifts with other opposition figures during the 1978 legislative elections, though the frequency with which political friends were able to see him amazed outsiders. After going abroad in 1980 Aquino faced the isolation of Manglapus, which he attempted to overcome with constant to influence,

phone

and

rendezvous. Aquino, the most potent political challenger to Marcos before martial law, became the first articulate opponent of the martial law regime. He used the conditions of imprisonment to enhance his charisma. Such was his standing with the foreign press that he was viewed abroad as virtually the only opponent of martial law until 1975 or 1976. For his part,

calls, cables,

couriers,

Marcos manipulated the

political

courts, civilian

and

military, to try to

discredit his prisoner.

Ninoy was one of the first persons picked up on September 22, 1972, but it was eleven months before any charge was brought against him and that only after considerable international pressure. In the meantime Marcos had issued General Order no. 3 (September 22, 1972), restricting the jurisdiction of civilian courts, and General Order no. 12 (September 30, 1972), defining the wide jurisdiction of the newly established military tribunals, which included all cases even remotely related to “national security.” On August 1 1, 1973, Aquino was charged with several violations of the Anti-Subversion Law and murder incidental thereto, crimes allegedly committed in Tarlac before martial law. Very quickly Aquino’s lawyers, led by former senators Lorenzo Tanada and Jovito Salonga, filed a petition with the Supreme Court to prohibit trial on the grounds that civilians could not be tried by military courts when civilian courts were functioning. But the court did not act quickly, and the military tribunal commenced trial on August 27. Aquino appeared, only to announce in a dramatic speech, reported in the Philippines through the foreign press, that he refused to participate in such a

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

207

He declared that the special tribunal, which could only “recommend” a decision to the highest reviewing officer, the commanderin-chief, made of Marcos “my accuser, prosecutor and my judge.” The charade.

and Aquino went back to his special cell. In September 1974 the Supreme Court dismissed petitions for

tactic

halted the

trial,

habeas corpus by twenty-five political prisoners which challenged martial law. Saying that a state of rebellion did in fact exist in September 1972, the court upheld the martial law proclamation, narrowing Ninoy’s potential line of defense. ^ On March 31, 1975, the military tribunal reconvened to hear testimony against Aquino from the leading prosecution witnesses, two confessed Huk commanders who had turned state’s evidence. Aquino repeated his refusal to participate in the proceedings and went on hunger strike, if necessary until death. His protest was so broad against martial law, suppression of a free press, insecure tenure of civilian judges, and trial of civilians in military courts that there seemed to be no basis for ending his fast.^ In early May, twenty-one months after Aquino had first challenged the jurisdiction of the special military tribunal, the Supreme Court finally announced an eight to three decision upholding that jurisdiction. The court used the occasion to make a sweeping justification of martial law. The justices were all Marcos appointees by 1975, and the independence and prestige of the high court had been materially

—

—

undermined.^ Senator Aquino, still fasting, was taken to the hospital on May 5, where an attempt was made to feed him intravenously. He resisted. Then on May 13, the fortieth day of the hunger strike, his wife made an announcement expressing fear that government doctors would be instructed to keep him barely alive, perhaps after brain damage had already occurred. Thus he broke his fast, “to try to regain his strength so he can in due time resume his fight for freedom and justice.”^ By 1977 Aquino had apparently recuperated and Marcos prepared to resume the military trial. On November 25 the military commission reconvened, found Aquino guilty, and sentenced him to death. An ^Times Journal (International ed.), September 28, 1974 ^See April 14, 1975, Aquino’s letter to his wife, in Associations of Major Religious Superiors, Various Reports, April 18, 1975. ^Sunday Star Bulletin and Advertiser, May 1 1, 1975, p. E44. Before the court’s hearing of Aquino’s appeal on a writ of habeas corpus, a delegation of justices went to the president to persuade him to permit them to take jurisdiction despite General Order no. 3. He was persuaded only after being assured that the court’s ultimate ruling would be favorable. Both sides believed they had gained something, but the man with power probably gained more. (Interview, January 7, 1976, Manila.) ^Philippine Times, June 16—30, 1975.

208

Filipino Politics

international outcry forced Marcos to agree to reopen the case, but

no

hearings were held. The issue was in limbo until Marcos surprisingly offered Aquino the chance to stand as a candidate for the interim Batasan. He let him speak over television from his prison cell, clearly

hoping that he would introduce dissension into the opposition, which he did. (By opening Aquino up to -political attack in the course of the campaign, he also hoped to rob him of some of his charismatic mystique, which had been heightened by the fast.) With Aquino’s name on the ballot and the chance that the foreign press might help keep the balloting honest in the Manila area, however, others were also attracted to electoral participation. LABAN (“Fight”) was formed with Senator Tahada as chairman; it included former Nacionalistas as well as Liberals and some young people who had condemned both old parties. The campaign resulted in a total shut out for the LABAN, even though it took several days for the government to manufacture the results. Those who had counseled boycott felt conhrmed in their position. Former senators Jovito Salonga and Jose Diokno, both brilliant lawyers, were the senior voices for boycott. They were among the hrst, in 1974, to speak out forcefully and coherently against martial law, even though each had paid a heavy price for political prominence. Diokno, a Nacionalista long critical of Marcos, was jailed longer after the declaration of martial law than any major political hgure other than Aquino. He gave a major portion of his time to defending political prisoners, especially the poor and unknown. His political pronouncements were generally drafted with the support of long-time friends in the legal

members of

Union of the Philippines. CLUP statements increasingly stressed the dangers of American military and economic domination of the Philippines. Diokno was a forceful nationalist even before 1972, and his intense critique of the American role helped discourage cooperation with other pre-1972 politicians opposed to Marcos. Salonga, one of the brightest and most popular members of the profession,

the Civil Liberties

Senate before martial law, was also its only Protestant. A Liberal, he was nearly killed by a bomb blast at the Plaza Miranda rally in 1971 and has been permanently crippled by his injuries. He launched his hrst comprehensive critique of martial law with an ecumenical group of lay and clerical leaders. By 1978 he had encouraged Senator Gerardo Roxas, son of the late president, to try to reactivate the Liberal party. Roxas, LP president, refused to allow his party to compete in the election for interim Batasang Pambansa in 1978, because Marcos refused to make any of the significant electoral reforms demanded. That decision, based on the understandable principle that opposition participation in

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

an electoral farce would lend

209

and thus give undeserved legitimacy to the regime, distanced the party from LABAN. In the 1978 campaign two other parties appeared which are worthy of note, for very different reasons. One, the Pusyon Bisaya, was centered in Cebu. Though ostensibly an opposition to the governmentbacked

New

Society

it

creditability

Movement (KBL),

thirteen candidates entered the

interim Batasang Pambansa only to act as a Marcos “Trojan Horse.” Another regional party, the Mindanao Alliance, was of a different hue.

Including some

who helped form

radical reformist parties at the local

1978 actually elected a former newspaperman, one-time mayor of Cayagan de Oro, and 1973 undersecretary of information, Reuben Canoy who became one of the most outspoken critics that Marcos tolerated within the assembly. In the January 1980 local elections the Alliance also elected a provincial governor and two city and hundreds of town mayors. This group resembled an institutionalized, mass-based opposition party, but it was strong only in northern Mindanao. The decision of the Liberals to absent themselves from the 1980 local elections an outcome that Marcos did his best to arrange drew in several regional groups. Aside from the Mindanao Alliance the most spectacular opposition success in 1980 was the election of Jose Laurel V as governor of Batangas; the young Laurel, descended from the late senator, had the backing of perhaps the best-maintained family political machine outside the First Lady’s base in Leyte and the president’s in Ilocos. The Laurel Wing of the Nacionalistas, despite cooperation with Marcos until 1979, had come to be recognized as a major component of the opposition. There were also smaller regional opposition parties in Bicol and southwestern Mindanao. Increasing talk in 1980 about the possible end of martial law and even the holding of new “national elections” was stimulus for the opposition to try to coalesce, especially as all recognized that Marcos was thriving on opposition disunity. In January a broad coalition issued a thirty-page program for “A just society in a free and democratic Philippines.” The potent Laurel branch of the Nacionalistas joined Liberals, the Mindanao Alliance, and other outspoken regime critics, including former president Diosdado Macapagal. In August this agglomeration, also joined by exiled leaders Manglapus and Aquino but not including Tahada or Diokno, issued a manifesto that summarized its stand vis-a-vis Marcos: “It is now clear that the imposition of martial rule in 1972 has resulted in the gross distortion of our democratic system and installation of a dictatorship,” it opened. It accused Marcos of creating a “new economic oligarchy” and a “rubber-stamp parlialevel in the late 1960s, the Alliance in

—

—

210

Filipino Politics

ment,” permitting “foreign domination of our national economy,” spawning “organized crime,” causing “galloping inflation and widespread economic depression” and “unprecedented graft and corruption,” exposing “Filipino workers to exploitation by big business” while depriving them of the right to strike, and suppressing dissent by arbitrary arrest, detention, and torture. After promising “the restoration of real democracy,” this “National Concord for Freedom” offered “the promotion of human dignity and human rights, social justice and a self-reliant national economy” as its “fundamental goals.” It was a forceful document that appealed primarily to the urban, Christian, and middle-class population. The group called itself the United Democratic Opposition (UNIDO). This public show of unity was reinforced by the agreement to boycott the April 7, 1981, plebiscite that would ratify important changes in the 1973 constitution. When Marcos announced that he would stand for “reelection” as president on June 16, however, the new coalition came under severe strain. Who would be its candidate, or would there be any? The election was little more than six weeks away when UNIDO, after considerable debate, announced its decision to boycott. Unity was preserved, only to be tested another day. The Left had been arguing boycott for months (contrary to

its

position in 1978), so the entire

opposition was of one voice on the question

—an accord that did not

last.

In the proliferation of overlapping yet competing organizations, three distinct currents persisted within the reformist opposition. The hrst, and largest, group was centered in UNIDO; Ninoy Aquino and

Salvador Laurel were the major hgures. They were the

condemn

least nationalist

and most eager to participate in the political process. They seldom talked of the need for social reform. But they courted American support and hoped to replace Marcos through elections. The second group, centered around Diokno and Tahada, was strongly nationalistic, committed to the removal of U.S. bases, and favored substantial socioeconomic change as well. They saw little or no prospect of free elections under Marcos and thus shunned participation in what they termed “charades.” Of the three groups they had the closest communication with the Left, though their relationship was delicate and often bumpy. The third group, the smallest, in some sense occupied the center. Led by Salonga and some less well-known hgures, it was as adamant as Diokno and Tahada on nonparticipation in Marcos-directed electoral dramas. Although critical of both U.S. multinationals and U.S. bases. (unwilling to

U.S. bases, at least in the 1970s)

1

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

2

1

the group was not as strident as the second, and not generally perceived as “anti-American.” It gave some attention to the need for social

reform. Salonga avoided the anticommunist outbursts occasionally emanating from Laurel, but neither did he have as effective dialogue with the Left as Diokno and Tahada. Despite divergent tendencies, opposition leaders who rejected revolutionary methods were still a force to be given weight in any calcula-

They had technical ing and communicating tion.

skills,

some

abilities,

financial resources,

and organiz-

as well as potential access to old

more than potential.) Their commitment to freedom, to human rights and democratic processes, undoubtedly increased during martial law. In some individuals that commitment motivated extraordinary sacrihce. But the opposition found unity only in a shared dislike for Marcos’s authoritarianism and was limited to a middle-class base. In 1980 oppositionists certainly had many contacts with and some sympathy in the patron-client networks. (For the Laurels the networks were

economic elite, but they did not have that elite’s active support. Ninoy Aquino had proven mass appeal, but other leaders would have had very feeble links to the masses without the assistance of progressive churchmen and women who were organizing peasants and workers.

Religious Opposition

The

of the reformist opposition to widen its effective support was one of the goals of martial law, depoliticization. Marcos was able to undercut his leading critics’ mass support. But at the same time inability

on the

working underground, found it easier to win support, because the causes of unrest had broadened and the traditional means of expressing displeasure with government had disappeared. Only an increased political role for religious forces and institutions could counteract the trend toward polarization between regime and revolutionary opposition. The church was not itself immune from polarization, but whatever its internal problems, the religious opposition grew dramatically in importance after 1972. Unlike a political party it had no strategy for replacing the existing regime with leaders

its

own

Left, increasingly

leaders, but in criticizing the ruling elite, posing alternative

and mobilizing people to articulate those alternatives, its energy and clear analysis put the old politicians to shame. The roles of the church (largely but not exclusively the Roman Catholic Church) before and after 1972 differed because of changes goals

and

policies,

within the institution as well as within the larger polity. tion as the central focus of religious

commitment and

Human

libera-

activity

gained

212

Filipino Politics

1960s but accelerated in the 1970s. The Second Vatican Council’s Gaudium et Spes in 1965 clearly delineated the Catholic commitment to social justice; but reaffirmations did not come from Asian Catholic bishops until 1970 and from Philippine bishops until

prominence

in the

formulation of the Third Synod of Bishops in Rome in that last year held that “action for justice and participation in the transformation of the world [is] a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel.”® In Protestant circles the social gospel was weaker than at its advent nearly three generations earlier. Ferment within the church about its proper role in society was thus rising just as martial law removed the option for religious leaders of fostering more active labor and peasant unions or working with more militant local reform groups. Under martial law, political parties and unions were often crushed or forced underground. As in other authoritarian societies, religious institutions became important channels of political dissent in the Philippines, a spiritual cloak donned for activities with political consequences. 1971.

The

brought churchmen and women into more direct conflict with central government. Even before martial law some Christian reformers had found their actions blocked by affected interests, and not always subtly. Seldom, however, was central authority involved. But with the merger of top political and economic elites after 1972, to challenge economic exploitation was increasingly to confront the most powerful political figures. For instance. Father Ed Gerlock reported that a military interrogator told him after his arrest in Davao, “To oppose the banana companies is subversive.” (Antonio Floirendo, Social activism necessarily

widely believed to be the president’s frontman, was already beginning to establish control

concern for

human

of the banana industry in 1972.)^ rights was to criticize the military.

And

to

show

The escalation of human rights violations also began to involve clergy who had previously seen their role as purely pastoral. Outrage and compassionate action required no liberation theology when a priest learned of the arrest without charge or the torture of a beloved parishioner. As Jaime Cardinal Sin told the press, “When a priest is approached” by a mother trying to find a missing son, for instance, “he feels it is his Christian duty to help.”^ And when churchmen did condemn injustice or protest torture, and their activities were halted by ^Quoted in Dennis Shoesmith, “Church and Martial Law in the Philippines: The Continuing Debate,” Southeast Asian Affairs 1979 (Singapore, 1979), p. 247. ^See Max Marquez, “Gerlock Deportation Trial,” Philippine Times, June 30—July 14, 1974.

^Quoted

in

“God and the

State:

A Crown

of Thorns,” Asiaweek, July 20, 1979,

p.

66.

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

213

the military, both the pastoral and the prophetic functions of ministry

were constrained. Those constraints were resented even by the conservatives when government tried to control the progressives by threatening taxation of church schools or passage of a divorce law. Mainline Protestants were also concerned about human rights and social justice. But at the same time they were heavily middle class, and many benehted economically in the early years of martial law. Yet this same group had also been most strongly committed to constitutional democracy. The ambivalence was revealed in action: while a few Protestant clergymen were detained for political activity, official church bodies in the 1970s usually did not go beyond mild rebukes for government excesses. Some conservative laymen discouraged their pastors from taking an open stand against martial law, a phenomenon seldom found in the Catholic Church. On the other hand. Rev. Cirilo Rigos of Cosmopolitan Church for years provided a remarkably open forum every Wednesday noon for both critics of and apologists for the regime. For the most part, however, Protestants joined with Catholics when protesting human rights violations or demanding social justice.^ In any case, Protestant denominations in the United States with Philippine links may have had more impact on Marcos policy than Protestants within the Philippines.

Three other

religious

The

groups warrant attention

as exceptions to the

by Bishop Erano Manalo, the founder’s son, affected premartial law elections, an influence that President Marcos respected and, some say, used. However, on the day martial law was declared the only bloodshed occurred when armed guards at the Iglesia’s radio station resisted the takeover by the Philippine Army. Subsequent events did not improve relations with the Marcos regime. In January 1975 an Iglesia member died, according to relatives as the result of military torture though the military denied responsibility, and nearly 50,000 coreligionists attended the funeral. In the referendum a few months later the INK voted in a bloc, “no.”^® According to reports President Marcos was furious and called Bishop Manalo to Malacanang, threatening him with retaliation. But the bishop had hundreds of his loyal supporters at the palace gates, and the two men quickly reached an understanding to avoid interference in each others affairs. Reportedly, thousands of Manalo’s nearly two million devoted followers served in the armed forces. Catholic pattern.

Iglesia ni Kristo (INK), led

^See Robert Youngblood, “The Protestant Church Bulletin of Concerned

Asian Scholars,

Summer

in the Philippines

New

Society,”

1980.

^^See Fred Espaldon, “Marcos-Manalo Uneasy Accord,” Philippine Times, August 16— 31, 1975.

214

Filipino Politics

After that incident there was some outright cooperation between Marcos and Manalo. Catholic observers complained that Iglesia members were active in Barangay Youth secret seminars that promoted a The Marcos personality cult and denigrated the Catholic Church. long-standing tension between Manalo and the Catholics makes the notion quite plausible. Before 1972 the Iglesia received hnancial reward for political loyalty, and by the late 1970s the Iglesia’s relations with the state had acquired the same flavor as before martial law. On January 2, 1980, for instance, the president and his wife paid a per-

on Bishop Manalo “on the occasion of his natal day” (which had become an annual pilgrimage); at the same time the president administered the oath of office to one of the Bishop’s proteges as justice sonal

call

of the Court of Appeals. Rizalian sects are not a unified institution, and their adherents number fewer than half a million. But like the Iglesia they have deep roots in Filipino culture and were politically underestimated in the past. The sects all venerate Jose Rizal along with Christ, the saints, and local spirits. Their members often live together in isolated areas, sometimes holding property in common and usually awaiting some millennarian event. The sects were often born, or expanded, in response to a particular socioeconomic grievance, such as loss of land. In the Central Luzon of the 1940s many members of religious sects who found no economic satisfaction through that channel turned to the Huks, seeking a rational secular, rather than religious, solution to their problems. But with the failure of the Huks in the 1950s and the death of the charismatic President Magsaysay in 1957, many frustrated peasants returned to mystical, supernatural movements. What was new after 1972 was that the government, in Mindanao at least, seemed to have exploited Rizalian sentiment to direct violence against groups considered threatening, including the NPA and the MNLF.^^ This deliberate linking of religious and political had, of course, the potential to backfire. The Philippine Independent Church (or Aglipayans), though probably now smaller and certainly less disciplined than the Iglesia, still claims to be the country’s second-largest Christian body. The church has an Ilocano base, and Marcos himself has Aglipayan origins. As a Philippine Times, July

28— August

1979, pp. 1, 16. See Marcelino Foranda, Jr., Cults Honoring Rizal (Manila: Garcin, 1961). i^See David Sturtevant, Popular Uprisings in the Philippines, 1840—1940 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976), pp. 26 Iff. 4,

12

Ronald Edgerton, “Bukidnon and the Bukidnons under Martial Law” (paper presented at First International Philippine Studies Conference, Kalamazoo, Michigan, May 1980), pp. 12ff. See also Vincent Cullen, “Social Change and Religion among the Bukidnon,” Philippine Studies 27 (1979), 163ff. I'lSee

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

Aglipayan clergy tended

215

support the martial law regime, and the church’s membership in the National Council of Churches of Christ in the Philippines helped make the NCCCP less bold in criticizing result,

to

authoritarianism.

A regime that faced rising opposition within the Catholic Church not only renewed

its

alliance with the Iglesia but included key

non-Catho-

Gen. Fidel Ramos, former top economic adviser Gerardo Sicat, and a senior Malacahang aide were all Protestants, while hnance minister and later prime minister, Cesar Virata, came from an Aglipayan background and married a devout Protestant. Nevertheless, the Roman

lics.

Catholic

Church had the

greatest political signihcance

among

religious

groups, both because of its size and because of its internal ferment. In fact, the Catholic Church was the only institution in the Philippines with both a nationwide network of communications and the legitimacy to use that network for political purposes. The very importance of this

communication system invited competition, because there were several groups within the church wanting to send different messages. The Catholic Church in the Philippines is a hierarchy in which 2 cardinals, 12 archbishops, and 69 other bishops supervise approximately 4,500 priests and 7,500 nuns.^^ This hierarchy was traditionally viewed as a disciplined monolith, but even before martial law a democratization of structures and procedures and an increased variety of messages had become noticeable. The creation of a Conference of Bishops in the 1960s gave younger prelates a stronger voice in national church affairs. By the 1970s a synod of priests had been established in

many dioceses

(but then often lapsed into disuse).

— —

A small movement of

unionized priests the radical Philippine Priests Inc. organized by Fr. Ed de la Torre was thwarted by then Archbishop Ruhno Santos of Manila but not crushed. But for some clergy progress was not fast enough, and intra-institutional conflict came into the open, even into the courts. Criticism of the hierarchy by Fr. Jose Blanco, S.J., for instance, led Cardinal Santos to attack him by name from the pulpit of the Manila Cathedral.^® In Rizal province the Manila Archdiocese tried to eject two hundred tenants from church lands; the tenants, members of the Federation of Free Farmers (originally Jesuit-sponsored), filed suit in court for government expropriation of the land in question. In May 1971 an FFF demonstration at the office of the papal nuncio asked 250. See also Michael Malloy in Asian Wall Street Journal, reprinted in 24, 1979, and Robert Youngblood, “Structural Imperialism and the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines” (paper presented at First International Philippine Studies Conference, Kalamazoo, Michigan, May 1980). Eduardo Sanchez, “Church in Ferment,” Manila Times, October 31, 1970. i^Shoesmith',

Philippine Times,

p.

September

216

Filipino Politics

church

that the

sell

all

agricultural land to tenant farmersd^

The

encouraged prelates to be more outspoken. In early 1972 the archbishop of Vigan, Ilocos Sur charged that “peace can be brought to this violence-prone province only if President Marcos

temper of the times

can have a

Some

little

also

more

church are of long standing; diocesan Filipinos, for example, while the more numerous

divisions within the

priests are almost all

members of iards

sincerity in solving the problem.”

still

thirty-four religious orders are mostly foreigners (Span-

hold a narrow plurality). Friction between foreign and

and diocesan,

ipino, religious

Fil-

escalated into a major conflict in the late

nineteenth century. It has much abated in the last generation, though In the personalistic politics before maroccasional tension remains. tial law, divisions among priests and prelates were also determined by family connections and patron-client relations. By 1980 the church was factionalized along other dimensions as well. Cleavages based on dif-

and theological perspectives were the most serious. The impact of Pope John XXIII or of liberation theology was countered by the economic interests of church institutions, the social class backgrounds of the clergy, their educational experience, and pressures from the Vatican. Journalists and academics have commonly divided the Philippine church into “progressive” (or “radical”), “moderate,” and ferent political

When

knowledgeable insiders used this tripartite categorization on the bishops’ conference in 1978, they identihed the views of sixty-eight bishops, 51 percent of whom were conservative, 28 percent moderate and 21 percent progressive. Personal charac“conservative” factions.

teristics

correlated strongly with political orientation.

Thus

81 percent

of conservatives were 56 years old or older, and 69 percent of progressives were 55 or younger. Only 49 percent of conservatives were consecrated as bishops after 1964, while this was true of 63 percent of moderates and 86 percent of progressives. The progressives were

somewhat more

be members of a religious order. The correlation between the religious establishment within a diocese and a bishop’s political views is even more intriguing. Conservative bishops had on average twice the number of diocesan priests under their supervision than their counterparts in the average progressive diocese. The same proportion held for the number of schools oper-

Manila Times,

likely to

May

17,

November

8,

1971.

i®lbid., April 14, 1972.

i^See John Carroll et 20 John

J.

Philippine Institutions (Manila: Solidaridad, 1970), pp. 71—72. Carroll, S.J., “The Church: Political Force?” Human Society no. 25 (Manila:

Human Development 21

al.,

A

Research and Documentation, February 1984), See Youngblood, “Structural Imperialism,” Tables 1 and 6.

p. 4.

— Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

ated by the two types of prelates.

Geography was

217

While 62 percent of conservative bishops were located in Luzon, near the center of power, 50 percent of progressives were in Mindanao. Luzon prelatures tend to be older, owning more property than those in Mindanao, and whereas the Manila archdiocese has millions of pesos of commercial property, some dioceses are deeply in debt.^^ Comparable data on priests and nuns are not available, though it is generally believed that the percentage of progressives is higher. Though weak within the bishops’ conference itself, progressives had an important institutional base in the conference’s very active National Secretariat for Social Action and its regional subdivisions, as well as in the Associations (for men and women) of Major Religious Superiors of the Philippines. In fact, the papal nuncio singled out the AMRSP for criticism of its “activities of a socio-political character. ”^3 in 1977, the military charged the executive committees of the two associations with subversion, though charges were later dropped. The term “progressive” concealed a deep split among clergy. The two camps were popularly, and somewhat inaccurately, referred to as “nat dems” or national democrats and “soc dems” or social democrats though some progressives identify themselves with neither and strongly condemn the use of violence. The “nat dems” began to be radicalized by organizing the poor in the late 1960s. In the early 1970s some of them formed Christians for National Liberation; its head. Father de la Torre, was detained in 1974 for nearly hve years. By the late 1970s the CNL was openly a component in the National Democratic Front organized by the Communist party. To what extent CNL affiliates were conscious supporters of the party is hard to say; they would probably argue the compatibility of Christianity and Marxism. Many priests and nuns who were CNL supporters were working “underground.” In 1976 government warnings about “radical priests” confused “nat dems” and “soc dems.” But the difference is major: the “soc dems” are vigorously anticommunist while the “nat dems” are willing to participate in a party-led united front.^^ Many of the “soc dems” were associated before martial law with the Christian Social Movement of Raul

22

also important.

See Bishop Mariano Gaviola, secretary-general of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference, Rich is the Philippine Church?” Manila Times, November 17, 1970, p. 15. 23 See Shoes'mith, p. 252. 24 See Bernard Wideman in Far Eastern Economic Review, reprinted in Philippine Times, March 16—31, 1976; Sheilah Ocampo, “Seeking Integrity for Stability,” Far Eastern Economic Review, April 27, 1979, pp. 32—34; and “The Church in the Resistance,” Philippine Liberation Courier, February 23, 1979, pp. 4—5, 7.

“How

218

Filipino Politics

Manglapus. By 1974 evidence of their underground organization was sufficiently strong that the military detained Father Jose Blanco, a Jesuit, for interrogation.

A small group of armed supporters was active

Davao. Not until 1977, however, was a party formally organized, the United Democratic Socialist Party of the Philippines or Nagkakaisang Partido Demokratikong Sosyalistang Pilipinas (NPDSP) with another

in

Intengan, reputedly responsible. The “soc dems” identihed with the Christian Democrats of Europe and Latin America but did not deny themselves the use of violence. They were probably a much smaller organization than their more leftist competitors. In fact, in 1978 a list of church organizations and individuals inhltrated by or sympathetic to the Communist party was widely circulated, and if the list were to be believed, the “nat dems” had practically taken over some key church structures and programs. Nor were “soc dems” themselves

Jesuit, Fr.

Romeo

without institutional power, especially tial

among Jesuits,

the most influen-

religious order.

There were,

sum, three important political cleavages in the late 1970s within the Catholic Church: one divided those who openly opposed the martial law regime from those who supported it (the “moderates” sat on the fence); a second divided those who accepted violence as an unfortunate necessity in achieving sociopolitical goals from the bloc of conservative and moderates (and even some progressives) who strongly opposed violence;^^ and a third divided anticommunists from those sympathetic to both Marxist analysis and party goals. The Christians for National Liberation were on the left in all three splits, the conservative bishops on the right, but groups in between varied accordin

ing to issue.

These cleavages

also involved

some profound differences

in attitude

toward the church. Conservatives were particularly concerned about preserving the church as an institution, its liturgical and educational functions, and the hnancial base needed to support them. They saw regime support as the best way to achieve this end. The progressives, on the other hand, were primarily committed to a Christianity that ministers to the whole man, his material as well as his spiritual needs. The “nat dem” clergy believed that revolutionary sociopolitical change 25

A

Catholic Bishops’ Conference statement in 1979

to solve the country’s political

condemned

and economic problems.”

the use of “violence

Philippines Times,

October

15,

1979. The pope’s warning (Pope Paul VI, Populorum Progresso) against “recourse to violence” includes the caveat, “save where there is manifest, long-standing tyranny.” But that phrase seems to have been designed to justify violence against Communist regimes primarily. Cardinal Sin himself has shown some flexibility, however; he said in an interview, “It is not Christian to kill one another, but there are limits to human endurance.” Quoted in Far Eastern Economic Review, July 20, 1979, p. 28. .

.

.

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

219

was necessary to accomplish this goal in the Philippines, while the “soc dems” looked to reform once Ferdinand Marcos has been removed. The latter were considerably more concerned about preserving the institutional church than the former. The moderates, led by Archbishop Jaime Sin the youngest, on appointment in 1976, of all Rome’s cardinals were just as determined as conservatives to protect church institutions. Cardinal Sin understood, however, that this goal required adaptation in changing times and that too close an identification with Marcos could eventually

—

damage

the church.

The

—

cardinal also recognized that to preserve the

church required a strong

The

had one of the lowest ratios of clergy to population in any Catholic country, and progressives frustrated by inaction on social issues were leaving the church. For Sin, unlike his predecessor, “preserving the Church” meant listening to progressives as well as conservatives. The church might seem to have been on a collision course with Marcos and his military, but Cardinal Sin claimed that such was not the case. If right, he himself was largely responsible for the uneasy and oft-violated truce. Jaime Cardinal Sin, elevated to the Holy See only two years after becoming archbishop, likes to greet guests at his palatial residence with “welcome to the house of Sin.”^® (The family name of his China-born father was Hsien.) Good-humored diplomacy preserved close communication with President Marcos, which Sin called clergy.

Philippines already

—

—

“critical collaboration.”

liant”

and

The

cardinal regarded the president as “bril-

until the 1980s said

he preferred

his

regime

to a possible

But high-level conversations did not prevent frequent confrontations between government and church. Within the hrst thirteen months of martial law four military raids on Catholic churches and schools had shocked and angered the clergy. To reduce such incidents a Church-Military Liaison Committee was formed, with Catholic and Protestant representation, at both national and provincial levels. The military even agreed to avoid arresting clergy or raiding church buildings “without prior coordination with and in the company of the highest senior religious superior or higher representative.”^^ The agreement was violated in less than a year. In August 1974, 150 men in trucks and helicopters swooped down military successor.

5,

26 See

Barry Kramer

1978,

p. 5.

in Asian Wall Street Journal, reprinted in Philippine Times,

January

Telegram from Gen. Ramos quoted in Robert L. Youngblood, “The Cross and the Sword: Church-Military Relations in the Philippines” (paper prepared for annual conference of Canadian Council for Southeast Asian Studies, Vancouver, B.C., November 1979), p. 7.

220

Filipino Politics

on the Sacred Heart Novitiate and San Jose Minor Seminary in Novaliches, Rizal, just outside Manila. Plainclothes men dashed through corridors, “kicking open doors, pointing guns at people,” before presenting a search warrant. They were supposedly looking for Jose Sison, head of the GPP, but arrested Fr. Jose Blanco and twenty members of Student Catholic Action attending a seminar. Fr. Benigno Mayo, Jesuit provincial superior, was also arrested. To add insult to injury, the government-controlled media reported that the raid was conducted in a “peaceful and orderly manner” and with the “full cooperation of the Catholic hierarchy. Newly appointed Archbishop Sin indignantly issued a pastoral letter denying the press version and calling for special prayers for the detained and for an end to “in-

He

prayer vigil of protest in the Manila Cathedral, which more than 5,000 persons attended, the largest antimartial law protest to that time. Subsequently the government was conciliatory: erroneous media reports were partially corrected, both the president and the secretary of defense met with church delegations, and eventually all those detained were released. But the incident launched Sin into a public attack on the regime, for him an unprecedented move. In the following year he became more outspoken in his criticism of human rights violations, especially torture. Specihc charges were honored with an official investigation, and church protests were handled with more care. In 1975 Archbishop Sin supported the progressives on another issue. In November, Marcos issued Presidential Decree no. 823 banning all labor strikes (those in “vital industries” were already prohibited) and prohibiting any aliens from assisting unions a role in which some foreign priests and nuns had been especially effective. Mass protests in Manila brought out 4,000 in late November and 6,000 in early December, during President Gerald Ford’s visit; smaller meetings were held around the country. On December the president issued another decree, again limiting the strike ban to “vital industries,” a major retreat; but he continued the prohibition on alien participation. Sin had helped win one victory for workers but “accepted defeat” on a matter important for missionary priests. As most foreign religious were not directly under his administration, he may actually have favored the president’s stricture. It was evidence of Marcos’s skill in manipulating

justice.”

later officiated at a

—

disunity in competing institutions.

Philippine Daily Express,

August

27, 1974. in the Philippines:

^^See David Wurfel, “Martial Law Pacific Affairs, Spring 1977, p. 16.

Methods

of

Regime

Survival,”

— Opposition to the Martial

By

Law Regime

221

1976 the government was smarting under church criticism. Bishop Francisco Claver in Malaybalay, Bukidnon, had the most efficient communications network. His diocese had its own radio station and a weekly newspaper. News about military excesses and irregularities had a prominent part in their coverage. The diocese of Tagum, Davao, also had a radio station, and with a similar emphasis. In Manila the Signs of the Times was mimeographed every week in the AMRSP for both clerical and lay subscribers throughout the country; it contained reprints of press coverage from abroad which had not been carried in the controlled media, as well as local articles documenting social injustices and human rights violations. It even dared to touch on the forbidden topic of the First Lady’s extravagances. The Communicator was a more traditional church magazine published in the National Office of Mass Media of the Conference of Bishops and edited by a Jesuit missionary; only occasionally did it venture criticism of the government. Despite their differences, however, between November 1976 and January 1977 these media shared one common experience they were all closed by the military. Materials and equipment were seized, personnel arrested. Clearly the church’s voice of protest had, for a time, been muffled. Nevertheless Cardinal Sin reported confidently to a West German church gathering in early 1978 that “after five years of martial law the Philippine church stands free and integral, unhampered in its essential mission to bring a liberating human development to its people. Another kind of pressure on the church probably was effective. Traditionally, church-owned school property, which by 1980 housed nearly one million students, had been tax-exempt. Church hospitals had the same status. One of the president’s first moves after the declaration of martial law was Presidential Decree no. 76, which lifted that exemption, but he delayed application, sometimes year by year or even month by month. The church did not pay the tax, but leading Catholic educators and hospital administrators were forced to approach Malacanang from time to time in supplication. The threat of urban land reform had the same consequences, because church holdings are concentrated in urban areas. The decree was issued, but its application to the church was left undetermined. Another kind of financial pressure, the threat to the Philippine Trust Company in which the Archdiocese of Manila had controlling interest, was deftly foiled by Cardinal Sin.^^ late

^OQuoted \n Manila Journal, March 12, 1978. See Rodney Tasker, “Church Changes Tacdcs

Bank

Fight with Herdis,” Far Eastern Economic Review, reprinted in Philippine Times, October 7—13, 1978. in

222

Filipino Politics

When

unveiled in 1975 the draft decree liberalizing divorce seemed a very potent nonhnancial leverage on the hierarchy. It may have had unintended consequences, however. Conservatives were shaken at the prospect and moved to strengthen such lay organizations first

Women’s League and Catholic Action to oppose it. The progressives, themselves unhappy at the thought of more divorces, were pleased to see that even older leaders could become “political.” Thus the prospect of divorce liberalization seemed to unite an instituas the Catholic

tion torn over issues of social justice. Attention to the proposal in the official press later

lagged.

Despite government pressures on church conservatives and regardless of his attempt to maintain dialogue with President Marcos, Cardinal Sin became an ever more vigorous critic of the regime and its

he also showed greater public sympathy for “radical priests,” concluding that “I am glad that there are some like this because if all of us are silent then this country will go to the dogs.”^^ Even as a pastoral letter condemning the use of violence was read from every pulpit in early October 1979, the martial law regime was also sharply policies after 1979;

The bishops cited such of human rights, and the

criticized.

violation

abuses as bureaucratic corruption, use of force to preserve wealth and

and causes of violence in our society today.” One month earlier Cardinal Sin had told reporters that “in every corner of the city, every day there is talk of civil war,”^^ and several bishops appeared before TV cameras to denounce the behavior of the army in their dioceses. As more in the hierarchy sensed the rising threat of violence, they recognized the need to condemn its causes and to show the disillusioned, who were drifting to the NPA, that the church did care about “oppressive structures” and “human liberation.” Sin moved to occupy a new middle ground in the church. He urged the president status as “the roots

to begin to dismantle martial law, especially with free national elections

growing violence. Some saw conflict between church and

in 1981, or to face

churchmen

criticized, the military retaliated

merely cyclical: against them, the hier-

state as

archy protested, the military apologized but later retaliated again. (In this view neither the military nor the church gained or lost much ground.) Others viewed the conflict more as a spiral, with confrontations intensifying. Certainly the radicals within the

church became

more determined, and more numerous, than ever. The military became less reluctant to arrest and detain clergy. Cardinal Sin became a 32 Interview in

33Quoted

Far Eastern Economic Review, July 20, 1979, p. 28. October 29, 1979. See also ibid., October

in Philippine Times,

1,

1979.

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

more outspoken

223

of martial law to be able to speak for the consensus within his church. In fact, some priests who helped raise the

and

critic

of peasants in the 1960s said that by the late 1970s the stimulus for change was coming not from leaders but from below. The laity was demanding greater commitment from the clergy in times of great danger. Even presidential intrigues were not able to prevent the emergence of a more unified, more independent, and thus more politically influential church. Nevertheless, internecine conflict sapped the strength of internal renewal. Church radicals made what was clearly a serious tactical error in launching a frontal attack on the authority of bishops, for in doing so religious

social consciousness

they identified

new common ground

for

many

progressive prelates and

whole church hierarchy inclined to somewhat greater sympathy for government when revolutionaries threatened both ecclesiastical and civil authority.^^ their conservative colleagues. In fact, the

The Revolutionary Opposition

The Communist

threat to the regime was the official justification for

martial law, though the threat was exaggerated for the purpose. In

the military high

fact,

command

reported to the National Security Council three days before martial law was declared that internal security was between “normal” and “internal defense condition I” similar to what had prevailed for years. Indeed, in the latter 1950s and the 1960s, the Communists were on the fringes of political life. Since 1972, however, they have become major protagonists. The Communist Party of the Philippines (Marxist-Leninist-Mao Zedong

—

Thought)

has, like the Catholic

Church, grown dramatically

in political

importance since the declaration of martial law. In fact, it has become the largest nongoverning Communist party in Southeast Asia and the fastest-growing in all of Asia. To understand that growth it is necessary to review both the historical and the contemporary context. After several years of Marxist influence on the labor movement brought by an American Communist agent and by Tan Malakka, the Indonesian representative of the Comintern, the Communist Party of the Philippines, or Partido Komunistang Pilipinas (PKP) was formed in August 1930. Within a year the party had been outlawed and its leaders imprisoned, but in 1936 they were released. Following Moscow policy.

See Dennis Shoesmith, “The Church,” in R. J. May and Francisco Nemenzo, The Philippines after Marcos (New York; St. Martins, 1985). Peter Kann in Wall Street Journal, October 1 1, 1972.

eds.,

224

Filipino Politics

the party joined with

some strange bedfellows

in the

Popular Front to

contest the 1936 elections. In 1938 they acquired a substantial follow-

Pampanga by merging with Pedro Abad Santos’s Socialist party, of which Luis Taruc was a leading member. Meanwhile the Communists were more aware than most of the ing in

growing danger of war with Japan,. and as early as October 1941 they discussed the need for an armed anti-Japanese resistance group. Two days after Pearl Harbor the party officially circulated such a proposal, at the same time pledging allegiance to the Philippine and U.S. govern-

The formation in 1942 of the Hukbo ng Bayan Laban sa Hapon, or People’s Army against Japan (Huk) in a remote Nueva Ecija

ments.

barrio was a direct outgrowth of this plan.^^ Luis Taruc was chosen

Huk commander. In the meantime the Japanese had captured several PKP leaders in Manila, and the party secretary was executed. The Huks seemed more important than the party during the war. Huks numbered several thousand armed men in four Central Luzon provinces by the war’s end, organizing semiautonomous governments in many villages. But although they were the most successful guerrilla organization in Luzon,

when

the Americans arrived in 1945

Huk

leaders were arrested, being released only after massive protest meet-

were “recognized” and given back pay. Nonetheless, Huks concentrated on nonviolent political tactics immediately after the war. In July 1945 the Huks, the PKP labor arm (the Congress of Labor Organizations), and the party’s peasant union helped form a new political party, the Democratic Alliance. The Alliance put up nearly a score of candidates for Congress and decided to support Sergio Osmeha for president in his unsuccessful bid against the “collaborator” Manuel Roxas despite disapproval by the PKP secretariat. Six Alliance candidates won in Central Luzon, including Taruc, ings, while other guerrillas

^^See Benedict Kerkvliet, The Huk Rebellion: A Study of Peasant Revolt in the Philippines (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977); also Alfredo Saulo, Communism in the Philippines (Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1969); Eduardo Lachica, Huk: Philippine Agrarian Society in Revolt (Manila: Solidaridad, 1971); Norman Lorimer, “Philippine Communism An Historical Overview,” Journal of Contemporary Asia 8 (1978), 463—85; Justus van der Kroef, “Philippine Communism: Recent Development and Problems,” Issues and Studies, March 1978, pp. 34—58; and David Rosenberg, “Communism in the Philippines,” Problems of Communism, September— October 1984, pp. 24—46. Labor Research Association, United States and the Philippines (New York: International, 1958), p. 18. This is the view of the American Communist party and is conhrmed by Francisco Nemenzo (“Rectihcation Process in the Philippine Communist Movement,” in Lim Joo-Jock, ed.. Armed Communist Movements in SE Asia [Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1984], p. 72) who is familiar with PKP documents. Kerkvliet (pp. 214ff) maintains, however, that the formation of the Huks was simply a coming together of previously existing guerrilla units, including some with PKP leadership.

—

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

225

but Congress, under the influence of Roxas, refused to seat them. Central Luzon peasant leaders were enraged. At about the same time landlords’ private armies were beginning to retaliate against tenants

who had been wartime Huks. In June 1946

Huk

leaders decided to revive the wartime organiza-

They rejected the goal of revolution, however, and agreed not to attack government troops unless absolutely necessary. After a prominent peasant leader was killed while in government tion for self-protection.

custody in August 1946, Taruc “returned to the field.” President Roxas reacted with a “mailed fist,” and the military burned whole villages. Party organization was just beginning to recover from leadership struggles at the end of the war. A February 1946 congress, more concerned with “American imperialism” than with agrarian problems, had advised the Huks to surrender their arms. Not until the May 1948 central committee meeting did party policy begin to reflect the peasants’ reality. “Armed struggle” became the party’s “main activity,” but there was still no call for “revolution.” Shortly after that May meeting President Elpidio Quirino, who had taken office after the death of Roxas, offered amnesty to the Huks. Taruc, with party approval, accepted. Local government and military officials insisted that Huks surrender arms to avail themselves of amnesty, however, and so this last attempt to avoid a larger conflict failed. More Huk leaders became sympathetic to all-out revolution. In January 1950 the party politburo finally proclaimed armed revolution as its goal.

Early 1950 was the flood tide of

Huk

power. More than 10,000

men

under arms launched successful attacks closer and closer to Manila. Whole towns were occupied; scores of villages were under Huk administration. In mid-year, however, Ramon Magsaysay became secretary of defense, and with massive American aid he reorganized and strengthened the army. In October several politburo members were arrested in Manila, and the tide turned against the Huks. The tensions that arose from failure consumed the party leadership. Conflict between Dr. Jesus Lava, the brilliant intellectual and party secretary-general, and Taruc, the charismatic peasant leader, grew. In early 1954 Taruc was expelled

from the party and, fearing the government. For

all

a party “court martial,” he surrendered to

practical

though Lava was not captured

Though

fhe

Huks

purposes the rebellion was over,

until ten years later.

nearly disappeared in the early 1960s and the

remnants of the party had retreated to Manila, one field commander, Sumulong, remained. He had made a successful business of the protection racket in the Angeles area. Commander Sumulong had one subor-

226

Filipino Politics

who wanted to Commander Dante,

dinate, however,

return the

political role.

the

young

Huks

to their original

idealist, established

con-

Manila, Jose Maria Sison, a graduate of the University of the Philippines who taught tact

with the leader of the burgeoning student

political science at a private college.

left in

By 1964 he was forming

Nationalist

Youth or Kabataang Makabayan, Marxist in philosophy but espousing both reformist and revolutionary goals. Affiliated to the PKP, it soon became one of the most active student groups in the Manila area. By 1968, however, Sison’s actions revealed wider ambitions. On December 26 (Mao’s birthday), Sison and a group of supporters, unhappy with PKP leadership met in a Pangasinan barrio in what they termed a Congress of Reestablishment of the Communist party of the Philippines. “Amado Guerrero,” Sison’s nom de guerre, was chosen leader.

A constitution for the new “CPP (Marxist-Leninist-Mao Zedong

Thought)” was written and, a few months later, the affiliated New People’s Army was formed, with the crucial help of Commander Dante,

who became NPA commander. Shortly before the NPA’s founding, responsibility for security in

Central Luzon had been returned by the military to the police, who were notoriously ineffective. For the hrst few months the New People’s

Army’s growth was rapid and relatively unobstructed. Sison’s “Program for a People’s Democratic Revolution in the Philippines” had begun: “The objective conditions for the implementation [of revolution] are excellent.” But within a year the military were making life difficult for guerrillas in the held. The barren hills of Tarlac in the era of the helicopter and on the eve of the election of a constitutional convention were neither the place nor the time to launch “a protracted people’s war.” Some NPA units moved to the rugged hills of Isabela province at the foot of the Cordilleras and, under the leadership of Philippine Military Academy defector Victor Corpus, had considerable success. Others fared less well. In any case, the declaration of martial law in 1972 rescued the NPA from oblivion. Authoritarian repression went a long way to create those conditions favorable to revolution which Sison had imagined in 1968. Marcos exaggerated the importance of the NPA in his martial law proclamation and drove hundreds of well-educated youths into the countryside to become NPA cadres. Many later reached party leadership positions. Though the NPA came under heavy military attack in the hrst

months of martial

law, with

many

party cadre killed or cap-

tured, the net effect was dispersion, not destruction. In

1974 the guerrillas claimed to be active in 34 provinces, compared to only four two years previously. “Activity” included propaganda and organiza-

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime tional work.

A

government estimate of 2,000-3,000

NPA

227

cadres was

favorably quoted by a source sympathetic to the guerrillas."^® But by

1980 the

NPA

was claiming a 100 percent growth of “full-time guerrillas” over four years.®® “Guerrilla fronts” were said to encompass 4,000 barrios in 300 towns (in 40 provinces), distributed over all regions of the country. The NPA, by the end of the 1970s, had established considerable strength in Samar, Negros, and Panay in the Visayas, throughout eastern Mindanao, and even in the Northern Luzon cordillera, where they could not be found before 1972, in addition to holding bases in Central and Southern Luzon and the Cagayan Valley. CPP sources claimed that political work kept military operations at a low level, which should have given the regime just cause for apprehension in the longer run. “Political work” in some areas included medical care for villagers as well as agrarian reform. Urban youths were learnitself

ing to serve rural needs. The expectations raised by New Society land reform in rice and corn areas deterred some NPA organization for a few years, but in the late 1970s, as a result of unfulhlled promises, disillusionment began to

—

By 1980 the NPA “agrarian reform” primarily rent reduction, wage increases, and debt reduction or cancellation was more attractive for many peasants and rural workers. The NPA did especially well in some newly cultivated areas to which farmers had migrated, a fact spread.

—

Such cultivators often were faced with the loss of their farms, over which they seldom had title, to corrupt officials and large corporations. There were a number of instances when such farmers met these threats with the naked holo even without outside that Sison especially noted.

political

leadership or ideological guidance.

movement cannot be mounted

successful revolutionary

only from the periphery, however, and

there was also considerable activity in the

Some would

A

cities.

and organization of urban groups since 1972 was the Communist party’s most important breakthrough. Tight legal controls on trade union activity and the falling real wage of urban workers made this success understandable. Such organizational work the party terms “united front.” The effort to argue, in

fact, that inhltration

recruit support for a united front rather than directly for the party

avoided resistance to open party involvement, even by many elements in the church. In April 1973 the “preparatory commission” of the National Democratic Front had issued a call to all “patriotic and demo“Preparing for Revolution: The United Front in the Philippines,” Southeast Asia Chronicle no. 62 (May—June 1978), 15. ^^“Statement on the 11th Anniversary of the NPA,” Ang Bayan [central organ of the CPP], March 29, 1980.

228

Filipino Politics

Because of repression there was no announcement of the front’s leadership, however, the key initial hgure in the NDF, Fr. Ed de la Torre, was arrested in 1974. Urban organization had few visible consequences in the hrst three years of martial law. As the NDF later described it, “The transition to political work under conditions of severe repression was a difficult and Open and above ground before martial law, much of complex one. the organizational structure of the resistance had to be dismantled when mass arrests decimated its leadership. A whole new underground structure and new forms of legal organizations had to be de[Meantime] Manila and other cities remained calm on veloped. the surface. ... In 1975 this [new] network [of organizations] became strong enough to launch mass actions once again. A more detailed exposition of the NDF’s “Ten Point Program” was cratic forces.”^®

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

—

.

released in

.

November

1977, calling hrstly for “anti-imperialist and

democratic forces” to unite “to overthrow the US-Marcos dictatorship and work for the establishment of a coalition government based on a truly democratic system of representation.” More significantly, the front made a prominent overture to the MNLF, urging “support [for]

Mindanao and the mountain self-determination and democracy.”

the national minorities, especially those in provinces, in their struggle for

The program

explained further that “the right to self-determination includes the right to secede from a state of national oppression or choose autonomy within a state that guarantees the equality of nationalities.” Whether the Moros would be enticed by “the right ... to choose autonomy within a state” governed by the NDF remained to be seen.

While November 1977 marked the unveiling of a revised NDF program, it also saw the capture of Sison and other key party leaders. In fact, from 1969 twenty of the twenty-six members of the Central Committee had been killed or captured. President Marcos, though pleased, of course, was restrained about the event’s consequences: “The party is temporarily crippled, but I believe it will revive as such movements usually do.”^2 Marcos could not, of course, admit that his main justification for martial law had nearly collapsed. But in fact he was paying tribute to the institutionalization of a revolutionary movement. In the years following Sison’s capture new leaders did prove capable. Overthrow the US—Marcos Dictatorship: Manifesto of the Preparatory Commission oj the NDF (Btosion: Philippine Liberation, 1974). “Preparing for the Revolution: The United Front in the Philippines,” Southeast Asia Chronicle no. 62 (May—June 1978), 6—7. Unite

to

42 Quoted in

New

York Times,

November

20, 1977.

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

229

though no one person acquired Sison’s visibility. Party organization became more decentralized; for instance, most regional party committees were made hnancially self-sufficient. Changes in recruitment policies allowed membership to grow rapidly in the late 1970s, the party claimed, in spite of “the greater effectiveness of Marcos’ repressive

apparatus in urban areas. A party formed in 1968 by middle-class students going into the countryside, inexperienced in and ill-prepared for guerrilla war, had at hrst relied very heavily on Chinese models. But in 1974 Sison himself had insisted on the importance of integrating theory and practice. He added, “There is nothing more important than those principles and lessons that we learn on the basis of Philippine conditions and our own revolutionary experience. Especially attentive to the unique Philippine geography, he labeled any attempt to “copy a successful revolution abroad” a “dogmatist tendency.” Nevertheless, the party remained faithful to the Beijing line on the international situation. For a time it even attempted to justify a Chinese foreign policy that included closer relations with and verbal support for Marcos. But it made no claim of material backing by China, and its chronic shortage of weapons indicated that such support was not forthcoming. In fact, in 1980 the NPA leadership called for “proper attention to developing relations with our friends abroad. We need bigger material support for the armed struggle.”^® Weapons were sometimes purchased abroad, with Western European assistance, and other times captured. The most dramatic development in the late 1970s was probably burgeoning influence and support for the party in Samar. Though claims of 10,000 village militia members and organized mass support of 400,000 in an island population of 1.2 million were surely inflated, the NPA in Samar did have some remarkable successes. The Philippine armed forces were forced to evacuate tens of thousands of villagers from interior barrios in order to establish “free fire zones.” In January 1980 ninety guerrillas took over a large mine where workers complained that management was seriously delinquent in payment of wages. The guerrillas opened the company safe, paid the back wages, then appropriated the remainder after holding a public “trial” of the .

.

.

Anniversary of the Communist Party of the Philippines,” Philippine Liberation Courier, January 1980, p. 4. 44 Quoted in-Amado Guerrero, “Specific Characteristics of Our People’s War,” in Philippine Society and Revolution (Oakland: International Association of Filipino Patriots, 43 “Celebrate the Eleventh

1979). 45 See “Soviet Social Imperialism

behind Vietnamese Invasion of Kampuchea,” Ang

Bayan, January 15, 1979. 45 “Statement on the 11th Anniversary of the NPA,”

Ang Bayan, March

29, 1980.

230

Filipino Politics

manager. In 1980, also, scores of villages in Davao, Mindanao, came under NPA control. NPA leadership, itself pessimistic in 1977, claimed in 1980 that it was “on the threshold of a leap into the advanced stage of the strategic defensive.” The Communist movement was no longer simply a group of urban intellectuals or an organization of Pampanga farmers. It encompassed all regions and classes. The remnants of the old PKP could hardly make that claim. Though inactive in most of the 1960s, it developed some influence in the student

movement of the

latter years

of that decade. Interchanges with

Sison and the Maoists in the 1970s earned it a “pro-Moscow” tag. But the crucial difference between the two parties was on how to evaluate

Marcos, views certainly not determined in any foreign capital. The CPP-ML-MZT called Marcos “No. 1 puppet of American imperialism”^® whereas the PKP claimed in 1971 that the president had been practically abandoned by the United States. The PKP also charged that with the formation of the NPA the Maoists were “turning the gun into a fetish.” Spokesmen argued that “the time for a strategic offensive has yet to come. We are still at the stage of preparation and the main form of struggle is legal or parliamentary struggle.^® After 1972 neither feuding party changed its position, and events made the Maoists appear more attuned to reality. In October 1974 Marcos and the PKP entered into a “national unity agreement” in which the party supported various New Society programs, such as land reform, the restructuring of trade unions, and the development of relations with socialist countries (especially the USSR), while Marcos released PKP political prisoners, proclaimed amnesty for party members, and professed to lift the ban on its mass organizations. For two years PKP members and their friends sang only praises for the New Society. In October 1976, however, the PKP secretary-general wrote to President Marcos expressing the fear that land reform “was in danger of being derailed” and warning that the party might break its “alliance” with him.^® Tensions between Marcos and the PKP continued, but there was no open break, even though the most important party mass organization, the peasant-based MASAKA concentrated in Central Luzon, was not allowed freedom to function. Many of its members, however, became active in newly formed government cooperatives and other agrarian Philippine Liberation Courier, April 1980, p. 3

Guerrero, p. 226. "^^Quoted in William

J.

Pomeroy, “Maoism

in the Philippines,” Political Affairs 51

1972), 45.

^^Text in Journal of Contemporary Asia

7,

2 (1977), 270—71.

(May

1

Opposition to the Martial Law Regime

23

reform institutions. Huk veterans, under the leadership of Luis Taruc, were, on the other hand, allowed to organize and received some assistance. But as land reform implementation lagged the NPA grew, and as Marcos’s popularity declined so did the utility

the PKP.

been

It

was to be even

less influential in

of

this “alliance” for

the early 1980s than

it

had

in the late 1960s.

Unlike the reformists and the religious, the revolutionary opposition had a strategy for gaining power in addition to a network for communicating its goals and mobilizing support. That strategy included the extensive use of violence. But like other political parties with a chance of forming a government, the revolutionaries were also concerned with aggregation, the “united front policy.” The purpose of the united front is to draw more middle-class support to the movement, but it is at odds with a strategy of violence, which frightens the middle class as do calls for fundamental socioeconomic change.

—

More

particularly, the

CPP

faced a strategic dilemma in

its

relations

The party seemed willing to cooperate with Christians only on its own ideological turf, not to engage in extended dialogue about Christian-Marxist synthesis as many with the church and Christian groups.

progressives in the church had hoped. Furthermore, the party’s ide-

ology denied any place for the institutional church, making cooperation with the party much more difficult for devout Catholics. Frustration was so deep that though cooperation did continue, it expanded slowly because of rigidities

The

party’s tenacious

uted to

its

on the

side of the party.

defense of

its

own

ideological purity contrib-

effective institutionalization, just as

it

did for the church in

times past. Institutionalization gives the party a stronger political base. Yet adaptability

is

equally important for an institution to survive

environment. The CPP-ML-MZT, in its early years, was able to crawl out of its Maoist straightjacket, thanks in part to the quirks of Chinese foreign policy. Whether it will be flexible enough to meet new challenges remains to be seen, but it was destined to play an even more important role in the 1980s than it did in the 1970s.

changes in

its

Conclusion

Oppositionists ranged from those

who would

preserve the socioeconomic system, merely removing Marcos, to those who would transform it fundamentally, from those who avoided violence in all cases to those convinced that it was a necessary instrument of change. The greater the regime’s tendency to restrict nonviolent opposition, the

those

who

felt

more

realistic

they must use violence appeared to be. Likewise, the

232

more

Filipino Politics

exploitative the

for those

who

economic system became, the greater the support

called for transformation. Utterly fraudulent elections

and falling real wages had just such an effect in the 1970s. Even those committed to nonviolence denied legitimacy to the regime. They could not be a “loyal opposition” in the traditional sense, and thus one of the ideological defenses against violence had been weakened. Despite divisions within the opposition, all partook of the growth of nationalism. It is, of course, a core belief of the growing revolutionary movement and a central theme of one group of reformists. But it gained greater prominence everywhere as the United States became more blatant in its support of dictatorship. One particular instance of this ideological migration was the case of former president Diosdado Macapagal. Elected with U.S. support in 1961 and often responsive to American pressures while in office, by the late 1970s he was supporting boycott, contrary to the position of the U.S. State Department, and cooperating closely with strident nationalists. While nationalism was becoming a common ground, the extent of cooperation possible or likely between various strands of opposition was central for the future of the Philippines. A regime backed by both the United States and the military was not likely to be toppled without closer cooperation among the regime’s opponents. The hrst evidence of a new kind of cooperation was in the 1978 elections, when the Left participated in some LABAN rallies. In fact, some leftists joined the slate headed by Ninoy Aquino. Within two years, however, the Left

had shifted ground, espousing nothing but boycott, electoral manipulation shared by

ever, was

more

many

clearly to polarize right

moderates.

and

a reaction to crass

One

effect,

left oppositionists.

how-

The

theme of opposition cohesion versus polarization became even more prominent in the political dynamics of the 1980s.

Toward Normalization?

9

In 1978 there began what President Ferdinand Marcos called “normalization,” a term that had different meanings for different people. For him it meant, in June 1978, “a shift from authoritarianism to liberalism,” as he declared in his address to the inaugural session of the interim Batasang Pambansa, or National Assembly. To assess that process we must examine the interaction of regime and opposition and the impact of intra-elite conflict as well as international economic and political forces

on

that interaction.

Marcos described the IBP as the launching of a “new constitutional order.” But, he specified, “all too often some of us mistake political ^

normalization for the mere relaxation of those controls exercised by our crisis government ... a simple return to the free-wheeling tendencies of our past political order. He warned, “It is hardly the intent of

our people that the sharing of power should diffuse the national political will to develop and modernize. Neither is it our intent that the political order to which we are moving produce a bifurcated vision of the national future.” Any permissible disagreement would have to fall within the framework of his vision of the future.

The

opposition certainly conceived of normalization differently. Op-

wanted an end to martial law, the reinstatement of freedom of speech, press, and assembly, and the resumption of government selected in free elections between freely competing parties. They wanted, in effect, “the dismantling of the Marcos dictatorship,”^ what Marcos himself preferred to call “constitutional authoritarianism” or “crisis government.” positionists

—

Ferdinand Marcos, An Introduction to the Politics of Transition (Manila, 1978), p. 41. “A Shift from Authoritarianism to Liberalism,” speech by President Marcos, June 12, 1978, in Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook, 1978, p. 36. ^ UNIDO, “A Program for a Just Society in a Free and Democratic Philippines” ^

2

(Manila,

December

1980).

234

Filipino Politics

Even the establishment of the interim Batasang Pambansa involved no signihcant “power shift,” regardless of presidential rhetoric. Under

amendments the president retained full legislative powers, but when the IBP opened Marcos said he would refrain from using his power to issue decrees. Self-restraint did not last long. Soon after the IBP’s June 12 inauguration presidential decrees began to surface all dated June 11, which came to be known as the Philippines’ “longest day.” Eventually the president abandoned his predating charade and issued decrees unabashedly, even on topics under discussion in the IBP. The handful of opposition legislators came to refer to the IBP as a “puppet parliament,” where military intelligence men were members of the secretariat. Bills that the president found politically the 1976 constitutional

—

offensive disappeared after hling. Yet in 1979 Marcos told one journalist that the

convening of the IBP was “part of a move toward

full

parliamentary democracy.”^ Normalization, in practice, was a process by which the regime could be further legitimized before the world. It was to be achieved by coopting elements of the opposition elite, squeezing out more dangerous rivals, and crushing violent opponents while maintaining Marcos family control. This “strengthening of institutions” would assure stable succession after the resignation or demise of the incumbent president. Marcos, however, claimed to be physically ht even inviting Gina Lollobrigida to photograph him jogging on the beach and was unquestionably in hrm political control. Why should he have bothered with normalization? The answer lies in the self-image of the leader and in pressures from the economic elite and from foreign powers. In any authoritarian regime the true health of the ruler is a wellguarded secret. The shah hid his cancer from even the CIA until after he had left Iran, undoubtedly prolonging his regime in the process. The Philippines lacked Iran’s tradition of imperial seclusion, however; it is very hard to keep secrets there. And since Marcos had long taken special pride in his physical condition, any hint of trouble was noticeable. Already in 1978 visitors to his private office were noticing that he occasionally had great difficulty in getting up from his chair. In 1979 signs of ill health became obvious even to TV viewers: a rash was explained as an allergy, the puffy face and awkward hngers were not explained at all. Numerous rumors floated in elite circles, which included many physicians, including some who had communication with

—

—

colleagues in the Palace. But the dominant diagnosis was systemic lupus

'^Reuben Canoy, The Counterfeit Revolution (Manila: Philippine Editions, 1980), pp. 179—80, and Asiaweek, June 8, 1979, p. 32.

— Transition to Normalization

235

erythematosus, a degenerative disease that has acute episodes and spontaneous remissions at irregular, and sometimes very long, intervals.

Thus

health

occasional reports that the president appeared to possess full

and vigor could have been accurate

for the

moment.

Yet

it

was

he required regular kidney dialysis. Lupus gradually inflames more organs, but with proper medical care it is sooner a cause of impaired functioning and may affect the brain than an independent cause of death. By 1979 the autocrat’s health had become important in assessing his political longevity. The succession struggle began occasionally to surface. And there were hints in extemporaneous speeches that Ferdinand Marcos himself was starting to think about his place in history. Thus he began to attend to the mechanism for succession and its wider legitalso widely believed that

—

imacy.

Stable Succession: Concerns of the Elite

The economic

and Foreign Powers

one of the chief beneficiaries of martial rule (with the exception of the Lopez family and a few others), was also interested in the question of succession. Whatever complaints they had about Marcos, and they were growing, the elite recognized that love of capitalism had guided the regime. They were worried about the leftist especially if in threat, and were even doubtful whether the military would protect their interests. Thus this elite of alliance with Imelda wealth pressed Marcos to strengthen institutions for a smooth succession. They had personal contacts with the elite opposition and so saw a sharing of power with that opposition as appropriate. Foreign supporters of Marcos had a similar view. Ever since independence the U.S. government had backed successive Philippine regimes and had played a benign role vis-a-vis the declaration of martial law. U.S. backing for Marcos was tempered for a few years after 1977 by Carter’s zeal for human rights; pressure for wider participation and elite,

—

—

repression in Philippine politics bore “fruit” in 1978 with the election of the IBP. After the January 1979 signing of a new bases less

agreement, however. President Jimmy Carter seemed less inclined to advise Marcos on his style of governing. In any case, U.S. economic support had declined in real terms, reducing leverage on the Philippines.

The World Bank and

its

sister institutions, the International

De-

velopment Association (granting concessional loans) and the International Monetary Fund, became in some respects more important than the U.S. government as “foreign supporters.” And those agencies.

236

Filipino Politics

usually seeing the Philippines through the eyes of Marcos’s technocrats,

themselves became concerned about political stability and smooth succession as Philippine foreign debt grew. By 1980 the United States was also reassessing upward the value of its military bases in the Philippines. A desire for the long-term stability of a friendly regime joined the U.S. military and the World Bank’s staff in a concern about smooth succession. International power centers, which had no particular interest in power sharing for the sake of democracy, increasingly favored powersharing as a strategy for stability; greater institutional legitimacy was also needed to bear the strains of leadership change. The only difference was that while foreign interests were not concerned about preserving Marcos family dominance as an end in itself, the president was. The difference was crucial, but in the short term it was blurred. For public consumption, at least, both Malacahang Palace and Washington favored the same type of transition, encouraging

—

—

Marcos on his chosen path. In fact, conhdence in foreign backing was crucial to Marcos’s plans. In 1978 he had openly feared a CIA-engineered coup should he cease to satisfy U.S. interests. In 1979, with the bases agreement signed, there was still no White House visit. The embrace of the Reagan administration was, on the other hand, total. The new U.S. president announced that the Philippines was to be treated as a “major ally,” which became the theme of the triumphal Marcos visit to Washington in September 1982. Under Reagan, furthermore, the FBI helped harass Marcos’s opponents in the United States, and there was a powerful push toward an extradition treaty. (Well-organized opposition in the U.S. Congress halted the treaty and its implementing legislation in 1982.) The early renegotiation of the bases agreement and Ronald Reagan’s generous not called “rent,” gave further assurance.^ Feeling secure on the American flank, Marcos could move slowly toward normalization, confident at every step of the consequences of his moves. There were also obstacles to this strategy, of which Marcos was well aware. Most difficult for him to deal with were byzantine conflicts within the ruling elite, exacerbated by deteriorating economic condifunding,

still

tions.

The elite,

declaration of martial law had substantially changed the political

eliminating almost

all

members of Congress from

that category. In

1975, 31 of the nation’s top 35 influential were executive officials.® Wall Street Journal, June 1, 1983. ®See Perla Makil, Mobility by Decree: The Rise and Fall of Philippine Martial Law (Quezon City: IPC, Ateneo de Manila University, 1975). ^ Asian

Influentials since

Transition to Normalization

237

Cabinet members and top military officers dominated decision making. Only 13 percent of the elite were newcomers after 1972, but 50 percent of the pre-1972 elite had “dropped out” within a few years. The top political elite

had shrunk from 376

in

1969

to

217

in

1975. Busi-

nessmen continued to be identified within that number, but their ranking had dropped dramatically as one man’s control of the political

economy

intensified.

Furthermore, the nature of the economic elite was itself changing as “bureaucratic capitalism” of two types grew. The official version was the proliferation of government-owned corporations. (Over the 1970s government expenditures as a share of gross national product increased by 50 percent as the government budget devoted a larger portion to economic development.) By 1982, 92 government corporations had 120 subsidiaries, usually controlled by technocrats in the government banks that had acquired them. The unofficial version of bureaucratic capitalism, more commonly called “crony capitalism”, mainly benefited relatives and close friends of the president or Imelda Marcos. All prospered through access to government credit, contracts, and their ability to manipulate government permits required of foreign investors, often becoming Filipino partners in joint ventures or licensing arrangements. The First Lady explained the overnight affluence of certain friends and relatives in the words “some are smarter than others,” which became the title of an invaluable study of the corporate holdings of the “smarter ones.”^ This critical study identified close connections between the Presidential Palace and a vast array of business interests but could not prove what was widely rumored, that the First Couple were themselves major stockholders. Cronies in manufacturing, such as Herminio Disini and Ricardo Silverio, were less stable than those granted agricultural fiefdoms, Antonio Floirendo in bananas, Roberto Benedicto in sugar, and last but by no means least Eduardo Cojuangco in coconuts. Control over marketing or processing a major crop, by appointment to the quasi-government bodies that wielded jurisdiction, gave these patrons a geographical base. Despite their economic importance, however, their role in the top political elite was not legitimized until President Marcos created and gave prominence to the central committee of the ruling party, Kilusang Bagong Lipunan (KBL), in the early 1980s.® Each of the three became a regional party chairman. The emergence of powerful cronies created the first of four elite cleavages. ^Quoted

Canoy, chap. 10. ®Said Marcos, “The KBL Central Committee, not the technocrats, make government policy.”

in

Quoted

in Times Journal,

May

23, 1983.

238

Filipino Politics

Favoritism had always irked the old economic

elite,

which President

Marcos called the “oligarchy,” but only in 1981, when billions of pesos of funds were openly transferred from government banks to “crony corporations,” did the old elite launch a barrage of public criticism.

The

of Filipino Chinese business tycoon Dewey Dee, leaving nearly P600 million in debts, most damaged those crony corporations with weak capital structures. Government banks announced a rescue fund of up to F5 billion in credit and equity capital. The most dramatic evidence of the conflict that this plan prohnancial

crisis

caused by the

flight

duced was a lawsuit hied by the president of a major mining company to stop government “purchase” of a major favored hrm. Construction 8c Development Corporation of the Philippines, headed by Rodolfo Cuenca. (Particularly noteworthy was the fact that the corporation president concerned, Jaime Ongpin, was the brother of a leading technocrat in the Marcos cabinet, Roberto Ongpin.)^ The second elite cleavage on economic issues, perhaps not as prominent as that between oligarch and crony, was of long standing. With the opening to foreign capital after 1972, more and more Filipino entrepreneurs became linked to overseas hrms. Between these “compradors,” as they are called in the Marxist literature, and the economic nationalists, who presumably felt the brunt of foreign competition for markets, for capital, and especially for credit, conflict slowly surfaced in the late 1970s. The economic nationalists, apparently submerged by the Marcos approach in 1972, had reappeared even in government

They were especially threatened by the technocrats’ echo of the IMF/World Bank line on “rationalization”: lower tariffs, cut subsidies, and let the “most efficient” firm win, an argument sometimes structured so as to favor the multinationals. The World Bank staff recognized the prospect of discontent in a secret memorandum prepared in late 1980.^^ It opened: “The viability

agencies within a few years.

of the economic liberalization reforms [e.g., lower tariffs], supported in part by the conditions of the industrial/structural adjustment loan, depends on the political and administrative capacity of the government to implement the program without provoking highly destabilizing reactions.” The memo’s authors recognized that in comparable situations in other countries domestic manufacturers had withdrawn support from the government. In the Philippines, they concluded, “where the additional element of strongly perceived favoritism to Marcos’ personal

^Times Journal, March

Walden Bello

Francisco: Institute of

1983. Development Debacle: The World Bank

1,

et al.,

Food and Development

Policy, 1982), p. 37.

in the Philippines

(San

Transition to Normalization

239

friends has created considerable resentment, the local business com-

munity has several mutually reinforcing reasons to try to undermine the policy directions of the current government.” The memo suggested that domestic industry, “in addition to trying to influence policymaking

can join in the political opposition activities designed to remove Marcos along with his economic approach.” In fact, both methods were .

.

.

used.

were exacerbated by economic deterioration, especially following the second worldwide oil shock of 1979. Rapid economic growth in the early years of martial law had submerged conflicts of interest in general euphoria. But a sharp rise in the cost of imported oil was followed in 1980 by a 30 percent drop in the world price of the Philippines’ most important export, coconuts and coconut products. By late 1982 the world price for sugar, the country’s second most important export, had also hit a ten-year low. While real GNP growth rates in the first seven years of martial law had averaged above 6 percent, by 1980 growth was down to 5.4 percent, in 1981 to 3 percent, and in 1982 to 2.6 percent, the poorest performance of any ASEAN country. Real annual growth in per capita income dropped from more than 2 percent to zero. In 1980 foreign investors withdrew more than $100 million in equity capital, by far the largest annual amount on record. Bankruptcies were on the rise 21,000 were officially admitted in 1980 and government policies that favored foreign business came under increasing criticism. There was also a military-civilian cleavage. Disgruntled civilian bureaucrats, who long suspected that portions of their budgets were being Factional cleavages within the elite

—

—

quietly shifted to the military, increasingly clashed with the Ministry of

Defense when budget 2 percent of

GNP

deficits

began

until 1981,

The deficit had been below jumped to 4 percent. Prime

to rise.

when

it

Minister Cesar Virata regarded this development as unacceptable. fact,

six

In

announced for 1983, percent had already been

a planned 18 percent overall budget cut was

months

after a

proposed increase of 3

submitted to the Batasan. In five years the reported military budget had nearly quadrupled, to $680 million in 1977; then growth slowed, hardly reaching $900 million in 1982.^^ The original proposal for 1983 would have increased the military by 31 percent (while “economic services” dropped 36 percent). Shortly after the overall 18 percent cut was announced, the president assured the people that a “two percent Times Journal, October 18, 1982, and Far Eastern Economic Review, 1982, p. 68. ^^Times Journal, January 8, 1983. ^^Times Journal, January 1 1, 1983, and Bulletin Today, July 28, 1982.

December

10,

240

Filipino Politics

budget cut for the military would not reduce the effectivity of the AFP.”i4 xhe military was clearly favored but still faced its hrst actual reduction. Dissatisfaction on both sides of the cleavage was undoubtedly sharpened. Important factions also existed within the military, the fourth dimension of elite cleavage. About 50 percent of officers were graduates of the Philippine Military Academy; the rest received ROTC commissions after completing a university degree, only later being integrated into the regular forces. As noted earlier, the two most powerful generals provided leadership for these factions. On August 1, 1981, Gen. Fabian Ver was chosen chief of staff, primarily for personal loyalty to the commander-in-chief, over Gen. Fidel Ramos, the favorite of academy graduates.

In the early 1980s there was apparently a struggle between Ver, allied with the First Lady, and Defense Minister Juan Ponce-Enrile,

Ramos. Enrile and Madame Marcos were the two strongest and most bitterly determined contenders in the cabinet, especially as intra-elite conflict began to focus on succession. Enrile had benehted hnancially from his power and was closely linked to cronies in control of the coconut industry, especially Eduardo Cojuangco. But the distaste allied with

among

technocrats for the emotional, inconsistent, image-building ad-

ministrative style of Imelda

Marcos was so strong that most probably

favored Enrile despite his taint of cronyism.

Imelda’s Role

Nonetheless, Enrile was probably not on top in the succession struggle. The leading role for Mrs. Marcos thus requires some explaining.

Before martial law Imelda had undoubtedly been a political asset to her husband, a pretty face and a pleasing voice on the campaign platform, a charming hostess for Malacahang. Beneath the butterfly exterior, however, was the steel-firm determination of her own political ambition. She saw political power as the quickest avenue to wealth, and wealth the only means by which she could gain the social status she apparently craved. In her childhood she had been the “poor relation” in a prominent Leyte family, and even after she had helped Marcos win Malacanang, she suffered social snubs from some of the wealthiest of

^"^Times Journal,

January 28, 1983.

Official Gazette 77, no. 31 (1981), ccviii.

^®See Chita Pedrosa, The Untold Story of Imelda Marcos (Rizal: Tandem, 1969).

— Transition to Normalization

the old

elite.

Only with the

greatly

augmented power of the

First

241

Family

under martial law was she able to realize her dreams. As she sought new worlds to conquer, however, she often became an embarrassment and a liability to the president even leading him sometimes to public condemnation of her extravagance and efforts

—

—to

her outlandish expenditures. Nevertheless she continued to make the front page of the controlled Manila press almost every day and to grab international headlines as well. At the same time she became more powerful in her own right. In 1975 she was appointed governor of Metro Manila. The position remained uniquely exempt from electoral review. Then in 1977 she was also appointed minister of human settlements, a new department with no bureaucratic boundaries sometimes referred to as a “government within a government.” In the meantime she had headed diplomatic missions as the president’s “special envoy” to Moscow, Beijing, Tripoli, Mexico City, and elsewhere. Her energy seemed to match her ambition. But if Imelda was an embarrassment, why did Ferdinand give her so much power? The relationship between them was a curious mixture of occasionally successful

halt

and conflict. Malacahang insiders often described it as a standoff between two warring camps, in which the battlegrounds were appointments, government contracts, investment opportunities, media treatment, and priority in the allocation of funds. Marcos would sometimes yield to his wife’s demands, as in firing his executive secretary, Alejandro Melchor, in 1975, or his chief economic adviser, Gerardo Sicat, in 1981. But why? Some believed he remained grateful for her management of his campaign to capture the Nacionalista nomi-

collaboration

He

was also said to respect her political savvy. Others believed, however, he recognized that to thwart her ambitions too abruptly could mean trouble for him. The power and wealth of the Romualdez clan together with their information about how Marcos acquired his power and wealth (not to mention carefully gathered intelligence on his extramarital partners) could have been very damaging. In effect, the First Couple offered each other the embrace of mutual blackmail. Imelda’s power was limited by the opposition of a large segment of the army and technocrats, fear of her irrational extravagances by the IMF/World Bank, dismay at her constant demand for “donations” from nation for president in 1965.

I'^See

Canoy,

p.

220.

^®See Bryan johnson, “Imelda Marcos: Doddle Superstar,” Toronto Globe and Mail, February 12, 1983. Canoy, p. 216.

242

Filipino Politics

and her counterproductive emotional binges. Yet throughout the 1970s she steadily enhanced her influence and her control of resources. That she constituted an obstacle to normalization construed as genuine power sharing was undeniable. the economic

elite,

Ninoy’s Role

In the

mind of

the president a continuing obstacle to any real

loosening of the political process was the imprisoned Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino, both an international embarrassment in Jail and a potential political threat if released. But Ninoy remained a member of the political elite. His willingness to enter a dialog with either the president or his wife

—separately—and their eagerness

tionship with a prisoner, later a fugitive, put

Indeed, Philippine

to carry

on such

him squarely

in the

a rela-

middle

1980s focused on the triangular relationship among Ferdinand, Imelda, and Ninoy, just as it had in the early 1970s. Ninoy was eager to succeed the president, but so was Imelda. Both Ferdinand and Imelda alternated between harsh and conciliatory tactics in dealing with their most feared rival. Before 1983 this variation ranged from criminal conviction with the death penalty to discussion with Aquino in December 1980 about his assuming the office of prime minister. These rivalries had deep historical roots. The fathers of Aquino and Marcos were active politicians in the 1930s on opposite sides of the political fence. Benigno Aquino, Sr., was, in fact, a member of the Quezon administration that had prosecuted both Mariano Marcos and his son Ferdinand for the murder of Julio Nalundasan, Quezon’s candidate who had defeated the senior Marcos in the 1935 National Assembly election in Ilocos Norte. (The accused were later freed by the Supreme Court on a legal technicality after the young Marcos, then a very recent law graduate, had argued his own case.) of

elite intrigue.

politics in the early

—

Regime Aging

These rivalries persisted in the context of one more factor that handicapped normalization: regime aging. Apparent even in the four brief years of a president’s term before martial law, regime aging was important also to an authoritarian regime where stability is in part a function of stable expectations of reward by members of the ruling coalition.

The

older the regime, however, the

more

likely are those

expectations to exceed resources. For instance, bureaucracies (especially the military) grew in the early years at a rapid rate, making for easy

Transition to Normalization

promotion

243

When

growth slowed, so did advancement. Dissatished elements, deprived of legal opportunities, turned to corrupt extractions from the private sector to enhance their incomes. Growing corruption contributed to another aspect of regime aging, erosion of legitimacy. Early mass acceptance of martial law was partly based on a perceived end to corruption. By 1974, however, the real meaning of martial law, Philippine style, had been understood. Most people who had dealings with government were reporting that the status quo ante was in effect. At the level of high hnance the Marcos and Romualdez families, relatives, and close friends were taking an ever larger bite out of in the higher ranks.

government

and licensing arcompanies and, often

contracts, foreign investment permits,

rangements. They also acquired capital-starved through dummies, vast land holdings. Whereas corrupt deals of more than FI million had in the past been considered outrageously bold, under martial law scandals that did not proht the ruling group by ten to twenty times that much were hardly noticed. This kind of “leadership” justihed corruption for those at lower levels Fortune called the Marcos regime alongside Suharto’s in Indonesia one of the two most corrupt in Asia.^^ Such behavior undermined legitimacy, of course. Not only did it destroy the credibility of anticorruption campaigns, but it hurt more and more members of the economic elite personally, either in outright loss of property or in denial of business opportunity. A major distortion of the national budget, resulting, for instance, in the nonpayment of the wages of school teachers, was another consequence of massive .

—

—

corruption.

A

third dimension of regime aging

charisma.

Though

is

the waning of the leader’s

the president was not, by Filipino standards, a

naturally charismatic hgure, his complete control of the

media

after

martial law allowed a deliberate buildup of his charismatic image. But

charisma thrives on success

—whether in war, in economic growth and

or in electoral victories. Marcos won some battles but was far from winning the counterinsurgency war. Social justice was decidedly on the wane. After one referendum garnered 90 percent for the social justice,

“overwhelming victory” was less impressive. Furthermore, the controlled media slowly waned in effectiveness as misrepresentations accumulated. Moreover, because robust health is a right answer, the next

former cabinet member Vicente Paterno, although rank-and-file employees tend to adopt mores of top officials, “only the small fry get prosecuted or convicted of graft” while the higher-ups are left untouched. Times Journal, March 5, 1983. Fortune, October 1977, p. 194. 20 Said

244

Filipino Politics

requirement for a charismatic leader, reports of illness were also particularly damaging. An aging regime is not only less legitimate, it also has less effective control over its bureaucracy. Simple policy implementation became more difficult. It had fewer resources and more demands to satisfy. It was less capable, therefore, of carrying out the normalization designed to bolster legitimacy. Nevertheless, by January 1980 local elections were held, and it looked as if further steps toward “normalization” might be taken.

handle Aquino. A way out was provided by Aquino’s development of a severe heart condition that required bypass surgery in early 1980. Perhaps fearing foreign condemnation of any surgical failure within the Philippines, and having resolved that Aquino abroad would lose his political relevance to the Philippine scene, Marcos gave permission for Aquino’s surgery to be done in the United States. (U.S. pressure to that end was unmentioned at the time.) Aquino himself, once Imelda Marcos’s most caustic critic, was fulsome in his praise for the First Lady for assisting his departure in May. He left promising to return when he recovered. By August, Aquino seemed to have recovered fully from a triple bypass and was speaking out forcefully against the martial law regime to influential circles in the United States. He explained that his promise to return had no more force than a “pact with the devil. He also warned that a failure by Marcos to launch genuine liberalization could push even moderate oppositionists toward violence. Within weeks bombs began to explode in Manila, and Aquino was widely believed to have had at least foreknowledge of their planning.

The

president had been indecisive as to

how

to

Urban Violence

The

Movement,” started in mid- 1 979. By Christmas Eve of that year the military had arrested the alleged mastermind of the arsons, Eduardo Olaguer, a forty-four-year-old Harvard-trained businessman. Olaguer was vicefirst

stage of urban violence, the “Light-a-Fire

president of Business Day, parttime professor

at

the prestigious Asian

Management, chief executive officer of a bus company, and critic of the new Marcos oligarchy. He had allegedly set fire

Institute of

persistent

among

other places, the Sulo Hotel, the fabulous floating casino in Manila harbor, and Rustan’s Department Store all supposedly owned

to,

—

Philippine Times (Chicago), July 16—31, 1980, p.

1.

Transition to Normalization

245

by the Marcos family.^^ Before a military tribunal the following August, Olaguer pled not guilty but declared, “I have taken up arms against the corrupt and illegal dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos moved by a sense of Christian duty.” San Francisco resident Steve Psinakis, son-in-law of the late publisher and sugar magnate Eugenio Lopez, was accused of supplying the group with explosives. Olaguer was arraigned just prior to a new round of explosions in Manila. On August 22 bombs went off in nine buildings after occupants had been warned to evacuate; no one was hurt. The April 6 Liberation Movement (after the “noise barrage” on the eve of the April 1978 “election” for the Batasang Pambansa) claimed credit. In a manifesto distributed at the same time the movement declared: “Today, bombs have exploded in the business establishments owned by known Marcos cronies and allies. This is symbolic of the people’s resistance to the dictator’s conscious plan to control the economy.”^^ The movement’s most ambitious undertaking was to disrupt the conference of the American Society of Travel Agents, hosted by the Philippine Ministry of Tourism. Three weeks before the conference, on September 25, the group wrote the organizing committee: “The Filipino people have begun ... a revolution against the Marcos dictatorship. We ask you not to visit the Philippines in these times of great uncertainty and unrest. We do not want you to get caught in the crosshre.”^^ Security was tight, and only a few delegates were scared away by the warning. But on the opening day, shortly after the welcome address by Marcos himself, a bomb exploded under a chair just hfty feet from where the president was sitting. Several people were injured, none seriously. ASTA officers quickly canceled all public meetings, and .

.

.

.

.

.

many delegates left. The goal of intermittent

arson and bombings was explained in a publication of the Central Committee of the April 6th Liberation Movement called “The Philippine Struggle,” distributed from San Francisco in April 1981. This document spoke of “a revolutionary seizure of power,” backed up by “the stabilized zones of rural organizing, and serious political work among the urban poor.” Minister of Defense Enrile described the movement as a faction of the Social Democrats, headed before martial law by Senator Raul Manglapus.^®

Philippine Sunday Express, 24 Text in Steve Psinakis, 25 Text in ibid., pp.

Washington

Post,

December

Two

30, 1979.

“Terrorists”

21—22.

October 25, 1980.

Meet (San Francisco: Alchemy, 1981), pp. 19—

246

Two

Filipino Politics

connection with the bombings, which was consistent with his characterization of the self-styled “urban guerrillas.” Continuation of the struggle until “a revolutionary seizure of power” may have been the goal of some of these activists, but another interpreJesuit priests

tation

is

more

were ordered arrested

likely.

in

Steve Psinakis believed “strongly that the

‘stability’

of the Marcos regime hung on a few thin threads and that a wellorganized urban guerrilla plan could easily snap” them.^^ He told Imelda Marcos directly at a December 1980 meeting in New York that while urban guerrilla activity marked the beginning of a revolutionary process, it was not yet “irreversible.” He later agreed to help implement a moratorium on violence, to give Marcos a chance to make a transition to genuine democracy. Senator Aquino, who had had a lengthy meeting with Mrs. Marcos a few days earlier, spelled out the conditions for sustaining the moratorium in a memorandum to opposition leaders in Manila, which he also sent to Marcos, explaining his motivation: “I dread the consequences of a protracted struggle. Violence has inevitably been resorted to by desperate men and a sincere dialogue should hold back Aquino urged opposition leaders reasonable men from desperation. into a dialogue with the president on an agenda that would include “mechanics and timetable for the lifting of martial rule; rules governing the proposed plebiscite and the subsequent elections; revamp of the Commission of Elections; possible amnesty of political prisoners; and placing the government under the Supreme Court for the duration of the presidential campaign.” He credited Assistant Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke with considerable influence on his own decision to seek talks with Marcos, adding, “America’s interest is to hnd a peaceful solution. He revealed that given a negotiated end to Marcos’s absolute power, on which there was broad consensus, he might be available as prime minister. Thus in a political culture in which bargaining had survived martial law, urban guerrillas may have had functions other than those they proclaimed. Whatever meaning the explosions may have had, the president’s initial reaction was martial. On September 13, 1980, he signed General Order no. 66 authorizing the constabulary to inspect the belongings of those entering public buildings and authorized the launching of “dragnet” operations in designated areas. So immediate and so extensive was Psinakis, p. 90. 28 Text in ibid., pp. 48—53. 29 See Far Eastern Economic Review,

16-30, 1981.

January

16, 1981,

and Asian- American News, April

Transition to Normalization

implementation that even

247

government-controlled press a columnist warned that excessive zeal in enforcement could alienate more people from the government. Philippine military investigators were also busy. Even before the travel agents’ conference an unplanned explosion in a YMCA residence had led them to a sloppy, badly injured bombmaker, who under interrogation named Steve Psinakis as his source of supply. The day after the conference bombing President Marcos issued arrest orders for Benigno Aquino and twenty-nine others, including Senator Jovito Salonga, Fr. Romeo Intengan, S. J., Psinakis, and a son and a granddaughter of Senator Tahada. Aquino was in the United States and Intengan and the Tahadas were underground, but Salonga was in the hospital in Manila. He had already vigorously denied any connection with the bombings.^® In another case the net was thrown even wider; thirty persons (twenty-hve of them in custody) were accused of plotting to overthrow the government. Senators Manglapus and Eva Kalaw were included. Thus Marcos attempted to implicate the majority of reformist leaders. He warned that if the rash of bombings continued, “I will not lift martial law.”^^ Normalization seemed doomed. But the president did not, in fact, follow such a hard line. Over time his policy returned to its tough, calculated moderation. Urban terrorism had proved an ineffective tactic. in the

Ending Martial Law

Thinning the ranks of active opposition leaders actually made it easier for Marcos to contemplate lifting martial law.^^ Imelda insisted that the president had hrst decided to end martial rule on his birthday, September 1 1, 1980, prior to the eighth anniversary of its imposition, but bombings just before that date made the move “inappropriate.” Imelda added that president-elect Ronald Reagan, in a private meeting in December, advised caution about lifting martial law in January 1981. Reagan explained, she said, “The stability and security of [your] country is vital to the U.S., and [you] should not rush into any changes which September

October 16, 1980. ^^Sheilah Ocampo, “The Advantages of Overkill,” Far Eastern Economic Review, No^^Ibid.,

14, 15,

vember 14, 1980. 32 By the end of 1982 urban bombing had reappeared

as a security problem, killing Times matter much less publicity. Journal, twenty-hve, but the got January 4, 1983. 33 The pattern of arrest to exile, followed in Aquino’s case, was repeated in 1981 with Senator Salonga, though, of course, Salonga’s “house arrest” was relatively brief. The departure was again allowed on the basis of the need for medical treatment in the United States.

248

Filipino Politics

might affect the stability of the Philippines.”^^ If the United States was no longer applying pressure to end martial rule, the timing could probably be linked to the impending vist of the pope, whose cardinal in Manila had long been urging its lifting. Yet the legal and political framework in which martial law was terminated was certainly not consistent with Cardinal Sin’s aspirations.

Marcos announced that he would lift martial law the following day, commenting that it was the “right time” which was curious as “our economy is at least in a healthy state, because the flight of Dewey Dee, Chinese millionaire, had just triggered financial crisis. The political event was to distract attention from economic reality. On the seventeenth, the announcement was made in a festive ceremony, at which Imelda was overcome with emotion. Nearly 160 prisoners charged with violating national security or public order were released. At the same time Marcos signed an order providing that all his previous decrees and instructions, by which he ruled under martial law, would remain in force. The New York Times summed up the new situation: “He retains all his emergency powers; he can restore martial law at any time. That is the hard substance beneath the welcome symbol. Indeed, the substance was even harder than was realized at the time. Signed on June 1 1, 1978, the National Security Code (with an amendment of September 1980 called the Public Order Act) was made public only after January 17. Any “threat” to national security, from “rumor mongering” through “subversion” to outright insurrection, remained a crime. National security, moreover, was expanded from the At Malacahang, on January

16,

usual politico-military definition to include socioeconomic matters.

Mindanao but would not apply to cases involving “national security and public order.” Minister of Defense Enrile made it clear that the military would not tolerate the Habeas corpus was restored except

release of captured

The

NPA

in

leaders.

of martial law made no difference in the power of the regime over the people. It did not even affect the distribution of power within ruling circles. Like so many previous gestures, it contributed very little to legitimize the regime even on the world scene. The next presidential attempt to respond to the pressures he faced involved lifting

^'^Psinakis, p. 100.

^^New

York Times, January 17, 1981.

Ibid.,

January 23, 1981.

Bonifacio Gillego, “The Invisible Army of Marcos’ Dictatorship,” Philippine News, April 15-21, 1981. Far Eastern Economic Review, January 2, 1981, p. 25.

A Transition to Normalization

further

amendment of

the constitution.

configuration of power within the

Amending

would

at least affect

the

elite.

the Constitution

What was remarkable was

top-level indecision prior to the February

27, 1981, session of the Batasang

tutional language. self

It

249

Pambansa which hnalized new

It is difficult to

discern whether the president him-

was unclear what he wanted, was bothered by

ruling circles, or both.

The

consti-

conflicts within

hrst sign of preparations for the lifting of

martial law was the September 9, 1980, discussion in the KBL caucus of two bills to be introduced into the Batasan by a trusted Marcos hench-

man, Assemblyman Emilio Abello, for the purpose of “giving the President emergency powers even after the end of martial law.”^® The caucus was divided; some said the constitution made such bills “unnecessary,” and others feared that they gave the president too much power. Some felt the matter was urgent. But Minister of Local Government Jose Roho told the caucus that “the President is non-committal on these two bills. Finally, the two bills were withdrawn from the Batasan in November. Though the transitional article of the Constitution of 1973 had given Marcos effective lifetime tenure, he was clearly uncomfortable with criticism on the point. In late June 1980, however, the president had rejected the idea of an early election.

He

said that “an election in time

would be unwise.” The country’s energy should be focused on producing more, and “an election now would just wipe out all efforts at productivity.”^^ But as soon as constitutional amendments had been introduced into the interim Batasang Pambansa in early December, providing for the direct election of a more powerful president, he altered his stance and announced that he would run. The proposal put before the Batasan in December called for an interim president to be elected who would have all the powers of the incumbent president/prime minister until the 1984 election of the regular National Assembly, or until 1987 if the assembly decided on an sixty-man special committee on constitutional amendextension. ments rejected the proposal for the election of an interim president, of

crisis

September 10, 11, 1980. September 17, 18, 1980. Manila Journal, June 30—July 6, 1980. 42 Richard Vokey, “Marcos Comes out of His Corner,” Far Eastern Economic Review, ^^Bulletin Today, Ibid.,

December

12, 1980, p. 11.

250

Filipino Politics

government minister Jose By mid-January, Marcos was telling the

however, and majority floor leader and

Rono

dropped the idea. there would be no

quietly

press that

local

election until

1984 for the National

Assembly.^^

When Marcos had opposed

elections in June, he

had

also taken a

strong stand against major constitutional revision. “We may improve the present system, but to change the form of government now may After the lifting of martial law, stamp the Batasan as whimsical.

however, the Batasan was given a new agenda. British-style parliamenwhich had never really been tried was “abantary government doned” in the constitutional amendment and replaced with something more closely resembling the French Fifth Republic. The president would be elected for six years (with no limits on reelection) directly instead of by the parliament. The president could dissolve the National Assembly but not be dismissed by it. Prime minister and cabinet members would be appointed by the president and under his “control.” The prime minister would thus both serve at the president’s pleasure and be responsible to parliament. Over and above the cabinet would be a fourteen-member “executive committee” headed by the prime minister, which would run the country in the event of the president’s death. On January 29, 1981, the president again announced his intention to stand for reelection, to seek a “fresh mandate” from the Filipino people. As late as mid-February, Marcos faced “deferential stubbornness” from the KBL caucus,^^ but the Batasan approved the constitutional amendments on February 27. The subsequent plebiscite campaign served to help unify the reformist opposition, and on March 21a UNIDO rally drew an enthusiastic crowd of 8,000 to Plaza Miranda, in the heart of downtown Manila, the first political event there since 1972. Taking a somewhat different tack, 130 of the original 311 members of the Constitutional Convention were assembled by former president Diosdado Macapagal, who had also been convention president. They purported to “resume” the sessions of the ConCon, declaring that the constitutional draft of 1973 had been improperly ratified and therefore had no legal force. By implication the April 7 plebiscite would also be invalid. Leftist groups openly campaigned for a boycott. The result (80 percent in favor) probably depended heavily on doc-

—

—

York Times, January 16, 1981. Manila Journal, June 16, 22, 1980.

Richard Vokey, “The One-Candidate 1981. "^^New York Times, April

1,

1981.

Poll,”

Far Eastern Economic Review, February 27,

Transition to Normalization

tored returns.

251

Marcos, the plebiscite further embittered the opposition and led to a presidential election that gave

no

Officially a victory for

satisfaction as a legitimizing ritual.

Reelecting a President

A

church-sponsored poll had reported that with credible opposition Marcos would get only 30 percent of the votes (if they were accurately reported). But Marcos’s friends need not have worried about a serious challenge. A constitutional amendment required candidates to be at least fifty years of age. Aquino was forty-eight. Initially the UNIDO rejected the idea of putting up any candidate. UNIDO president Gerardo Roxas said that given the extraordinary power of Marcos, opposition would be fruitless. “We would grant it the mantle of legality by our participation. This we cannot do,” he added. But in mid-February UNIDO changed to a qualified yes. Qualifications were stiff, however: reorganization of the Commission on Elections, with UNIDO nominating three of the nine members; guaranteed equal time and space in the media; simultaneous election of assemblymen with the president; and, last but not least, electing a convention to draft a

new

constitution. It was, in effect,

still

a boycott.

In the meantime two contrary opposition tendencies were revealed.

The

Civil Liberties

Union headed by

Jose Diokno, student groups,

and

persons thought to be associated with the National Democratic Front were taking a firm stand for boycott. Even Cardinal Sin suggested that election plans should be postponed. A special nationwide committee spanning the political spectrum was organized to coordinate the boycott movement, PEOPLE (People’s Opposition to the Plebiscite and Election).^® On the other hand, Benigno Aquino, Salvador Laurel of the Nacionalistas, and Reuben Canoy of the Mindanao Alliance were arguing that the campaign would give the opposition a chance, be it ever so limited, to educate and arouse the people. Both Laurel and

Canoy were

clearly available,

and

at

one point Aquino

said

he would

Opposition Mayor Cesar Climaco of Zamboanga City, before the polls closed on voting day, discovered in a Zamboanga hotel room “bundles of papers which turned out to be plebiscite returns for Region IX, with those of Zamboanga City already inserted and sealed in COMELEC envelope. Form No. 18, in all of which returns the Yes votes were recorded as having overwhelmingly won over the No votes!” (from Climaco afhdavit in Philippine News, April 22-28, 1981, p. 8). But the government’s Commission on Elections refused to take cognizance of the incident. “^^Sheilah Ocampo, “The Lone Candidate,” Far Eastern Economic Review, May 1, 1981, p. 16, and New York Times, February 6, 1981. "^^See

New

York Times,

May

12, 1981.

252

Filipino Politics

return to the Philippines as Laurel’s campaign manager. Yet they were able to persuade UNIDO only to trim their demands on Marcos for prerequisites to participation, dropping, for instance, their insistence

on a new constitution. Finally, on April 24, UNIDO unequivocally announced its plans to boycott. Canoy lamented, “With the UNIDO boycott, the lines are drawn between Marcos and the revolutionary forces.” But the boycott movement actually produced unprecedented unity in the forces opposed to Marcos. UNIDO’s withdrawal did not mean Marcos had no competition. In fact there were sixteen other candidates. Some were totally unheard of; others, among them former congressman Bartolome Cabangbang, who continued to advocate U.S. statehood for the Philippines, were entirely out of the mainstream. In his desperation to

hnd

a “credible”

opponent Marcos put pressure on a Nacionalista party stalwart to announce his candidacy just a few weeks before the election. Brig. Gen.Alejo Santos, 70, former provincial governor of Bulacan and secretary of defense under President Carlos Garcia, had been appointed by Marcos to chair the board of the Philippine Veterans Bank. Santos was associated with the Jose Roy wing of the Nacionalistas, which disputed with the Laurels the right to use the party name. His campaign manager was Francisco Tatad, formerly a Marcos information minister. Santos’s initial statements to the press were rather sheepish: “Up to less than a week ago, I practically was an employee of the government. But I have resigned.” Tatad was hardly more forceful: “Nobody wanted to run against Mr. Marcos, so we got General Santos,” he admitted. But as the campaign wore on Santos warmed up to such convening a constitutional convention. Marcos’s fear of the boycott movement was apparent in the nature and variety of tactics he used to counteract it. Teams of COMELEC officials toured the country warning the populace that failure to vote was a crime under the 1978 Election Code, subject to a minimum penalty typical opposition proposals as

of six months in prison. In May COMELEC announced its intention of prosecuting 4.5 million nonvoters in the April plebiscite.^ ^ In Daet, Camarines Sur, just two days before the election, troops opened hre on 4,000 boycott marchers mobilized by PEOPLE, killing hve and wounding many others. In similar rallies elsewhere numerous arrests were made.^‘^

Perhaps the president’s most dramatic and least productive tactic was an unprecedently direct attack on Cardinal Sin. About a week before ^^Sheilah

Ocampo,

“Election with Yever," Far Eastern Economic Review,

16.

Bulletin Today,

May

Ang Katipunan,

10, 1981.

July 1—15, 1981,

p. 3.

May

1,

1981,

p.

Transition to Normalization

253

Marcos said in a speech that boycott was not only a criminal offense under civil law but “a mortal sin” for a Catholic. The cardinal and archbishop of Manila did not take kindly to this lecture in Catholic morality. On June 12, he prepared a statement to be read from all pulpits in the archdiocese. It said flatly that boycott was not a sin and election day

explained, “the State science

is

bound

and not impede

the cardinal pointed out,

its

to respect this

free exercise.

The

honest decision of conteaching of the church,”

moral obligation to vote as a general rule and under normal circumstances. However, situations can arise when the Christian voter does not believe in conscience that he should fulhll that obligation because he is convinced that the election process is manipulated to produce pre-determined results.” Marcos countered by reading from a pastoral letter sent out by Cardinal Sin in 1978 stating that suffrage was not merely a right but a duty. A spokesman for the cardinal replied that at that time there was an opposition challenge and voters had a choice. Clearly frustrated, Marcos threatened with prosecution 6.4 million people who had failed “is

that citizens have a

.

.

.

conhrming the suspicions of skeptical observers about government election figures, for the Commission on Elections had earlier said that only 4.5 million had abstained). Marcos also tried, unsuccessfully, to mobilize Catholic laymen against the cardinal. This confrontation was qualitatively different from any previous one between leaders of church and state. to vote in the last plebiscite (thereby

80 percent of the electorate voted, 88 percent of whom cast ballots for Marcos. General Santos was allowed to win only in his home town.^^ But an opposition sampling of 16 percent of precincts in the Manila area showed an actual boycott of more than 50 percent of registered voters. Given the government pressures, such numbers would have constituted considerable success for the boycott movement.^^ Yet Malacanang did not regard these gaps between image and Officially,

reality,

aimed

so familiar to the average Filipino, as crucial.

The

election

regime on the world scene, the international financial community.

to project the legitimacy of the

particularly to

Naming a Prime Minister After the election the next major step in “normalization” was the naming of a prime minister. Marcos had successfully avoided the choice of a deputy prime minister for more then three years when, on s^Agence France

Presse,

Hong Kong, June

12, 1981,

and Far Eastern Broadcasting

Co. (FEBC), Manila, June 16, 1981. ^^People’s MIND, “A Report on Voter Turnout in the June 16 [1981] Presidential Election” (Manila, n.d.).

254

Filipino Politics

July 3, the KBL caucus met to discuss the choice. The Pusyon Bisaya party of Cebu had already announcd its support for Imelda Romualdez

Marcos. Telegrams poured into Malacahang from around the country

same vein. Other possibilities mentioned were assemblyman and former vice-president Emmanuel Pelaez and assemblyman and former senator Arturo Tolentino. But the presidnt let it be known even before in the

the caucus that his choice was Finance Minister Cesar Virata, senior

The

from Defense Minister Juan Ponce-Enrile, indeed rejected Imelda’s name; in fact, Mrs. Marcos nominated Virata, who received the unanimous support

technocrat.^^

caucus, despite a gallant proposal

of the caucus.^®

Wharton School, had been the regime’s primary link with world hnance. Before becoming hnance secretary in 1970 he was undersecretary of industry and chairman of the Board of InvestVirata, trained at the

He

never held elective office, but President Marcos appointed him, along with other cabinet members, to the interim Batasang Pambansa in 1978. Virata had represented the Philippines on the Board of Governors of the World Bank and chaired its Development Committee from 1976 to 1980. Highly respected in international hnancial circles, he had the added advantage of being neither a political threat to Marcos nor one of his “political cronies” (though he had assisted croments.

nies in hnancial trouble).

some ways

most signihcant role in 1981 was as chairman of the fourteen-man Executive Committee that would take charge in In

Virata’s

event of the president’s death.

From

1980

was a degree of indecision in the inner circle of the autocracy. As events unfolded, however, an underlying rationale appeared. The guidance of international lending agencies became increasingly persuasive, it seems, and culminated in Virata’s appointment. Those agencies wanted hrm economic policy committed to “liberalization,” especially tariff reduction, late

June 1981,

to

as suggested, there

and

political stability to insure a positive climate for foreign

The

string of constitutional

plebiscites, elections,

and top

was designed to achieve those goals. A slight shift power within the elite, toward the technocrats, had taken place in the

appointments in

amendments,

investment.

in 1981

process.

^^FEBC, Manila,

1981. There was in fact one announcement that he had already been appointed prime minister on April 8. But such opposition greeted the decision that it was ignored in the government press. Philippine Liberation Courier, May

1981,

July

3,

p. 2.

^^Agence France

Hong Kong,

July 8, 1981. ^^^See Civil Liberties Union of the Philippines, “The Plebiscite nection,” in Ichthys, March 27, 1981. Presse,

and the Foreign Con-

Transition to Normalization

255

who supported the president in the Batasan lost ground. Diokno said that their new status was that of mere “advisory Even

politicians

council,”^® but in fact their occasional obstructionism probably has-

tened the decision to move toward a French-style presidency. In November 1980 the World Bank had been especially concerned about the precariousness of the regime if martial law were lifted “under a parliamentary system in which President Marcos, even if initially situated as Prime Minister would have serious difficulty remaining in power. Certainly the constant threat of a no-conhdence motion would have required Marcos to pay even more attention to politics than he had since 1972.

The World Bank and

international hnancial circles

had become

own

political base.

sensitive to the fact that the technocrats lacked their

Their position depended on that of their patron, Ferdinand Marcos. Not only did Marcos have to be strong, he had to be strong enough to restrain a wife who often upset rational economic policy and had no respect among international businessmen.^^ It was noticeable that the constitutional changes of 1981 contributed to institutionalization only in the establishment of the Executive Committee headed by the prime minister. The First Lady was not originally among those named to that august body, but she worked diligently behind the scenes. In August 1982, just before the scheduled state visit to the United States, there were signs that the president’s health was slipping. He spent a few days in the hospital, ostensibly for “pneumonia” (one symptom of lupus is pleurisy). A little earlier he had named his wife and two others to the Executive Committee, bringing its membership to ten, and in 1982 the First Lady could apparently control hve or six of the ten votes.® At no point was the conflict between the president’s perception of normalization and that of his international backers clearer. There was consternation in international financial circles, but family interests had been protected. In the same period, in fact, the president bolstered the patrimonial structure. Programs and policies ^

Philippine News, April 8-14, 1981.

Asia Record,

December 1980,

p.

81.

^^See “The High Flying First Lady of the Philippines,” Fortune, July 2, 1979, and “The Philippines Veers toward Crisis,” Fortune, July 27, 1981. Assuming that Virata and Enrile would team up with the support of the other two technocrats in the committee, whereas the First Lady could count on Deputy Premier Rono, two governors, a young assemblyman, and possibly the former vice-president Emmanuel Pelaez, because of his deep antipathy to Enrile. See Sheilah Ocampo, “Recipe for Succession,” Far Eastern Economic Review, August 13, 1982, pp. 10—11. Also Andy McCue, “Who Is Likely to Succeed Philippine President Marcos?” Asian Wall Street Journal, August 25, 1982, and Belinda Aquino, “Some Possible Contenders for Marcos’ Job,” ibid.,

September

15, 1982.

256

Filipino Politics

Strengthened the position of the First Lady, as well as securing patronage links direct to the president and through his most powerful associates.

Patrimonialism at Work

One example

of this patrimonialism was the appointment of Ver as chief of staff. General Ramos had clearly superior military training and a much better reputation among professional officers. He also had an image of personal probity. General Ver’s strongest point was his longstanding and intense personal loyalty to the president. The official press discreetly described his acquisitiveness as “occupying key positions in the held of business.”- Clearly the dominant criterion was loyalty rather than professionalism not that there was any evidence of lack of Ver, however, was perceived as the loyalty on the part of Ramos. better mediator for extending presidential patronage within the mili-

—

tary.

Concern for patronage networks seems to have been the guiding principle in alterations of local government as well. In the long delay of local elections more and more officials were removed or appointed by the president. By December 1979, 26 percent of the country’s mayors were presidential appointees. At hrst bureaucrats in the Ministry of Local Government, and latterly governors, advised the president. In 1982 the expanded role for governors in the national patronage network was revealed when several of them were appointed regional KBL chairmen.®^ Presidential patronage even tried to reach

Barangay council elections in

down

May 1982 were

to the village level.

potentially free because

“Marcos Cuts the Knot,” Far Eastern Economic Review, August 7, 1981. Also M. Victoria Gochoco, “General Fabian Ver: Above Everything Else, the President,” Crisis of Leadership, 17th anniversary special report of Business Day, Eebruary 27, 1984, pp. 30—31. A codihcation of New Society local government changes was drafted in 1973 but was debated for nearly a decade, hrst within the bureaucracy and then in the Batasan, before being enacted as the Local Government Code in January 1983. The provisions of the code made village officials more dependent on the central government than ever before providing them with free tuition for their children in public high schools, free medical care, and per diems for official expenses. Times Journal, March 3, 1983. Particular disputes in the course of the long debate on the Code were mostly resolved in favor of central authority, for instance, no return to mayors of control over police or acquisition of the right to appoint treasurers. See The Local Government Forum (Quezon City), special issue on Local Government Code, 2 (January 1983). Said the senior Filipino scholar in the held of local government, “Normalization has not curtailed the tendency towards eroding local autonomy further and has even led to more usurpation of local responsibilities by the central government.” Raul de Guzman, “The Evolution of Eilipino Political Institutions: Prospects for Normalization in the Philippines” (paper presented at Joint Seminar on United States-Philippines Relations, Washington, D.C., September 1 1, 1982). by.

Transition to Normalization

257

manipulation of results when nearly one million candidates stood for 289,444 positions (seven in each barrio) was so difficult. Nevertheless, of that supposedly nonpartisan election in which 90 percent of incumbents were candidates for reelection, the president himself commented that “whoever controls the barangay is favored in the next election.”®^ The official press estimated that the great majority of winners were KBL supporters. Firsthand reports from Central Luzon indicated what happened to opposition villages: they could get no releases of govern-

ment funds. As

a result barangay captains in those villages quickly

identihed themselves as KBL. Probably the largest new component of the patronage system in the 1980s was the Movement for Livelihood and Progress, or Kilusang

Kabuhayan

Kaunlaran (KKK), launched by the First Lady’s Ministry of Human Settlements in September 1981. Initially funded at PI billion, within a few months “capitalization” was doubled. It was advertised as a

at

program

to help “the poorest of the poor,” especially with

more than P3,000,®^ and to businesses. Like Masagana 99, the

interest-free “livelihood loans” of not

provide credit for small-scale rural subsidized credit

program

for rice, this was a crash program. Proper

procedures for scrutinizing loan applications were often neglected. Though the president assured the public that there was “no politics in KKK,”®^ within little more than six months the First Lady was ordering the release of uniform amounts to local government officials for them to redistribute at the rate of PI 0,000 to barangay captains in Metro Manila, PI 00,000 to each mayor in the country, and P500,000 to each governor. The First Couple later distributed checks in person. By 1983 evidence of nonrepayment of loans was already surfacing.®^ The style of the program created the impression of a patroness distributing largesse; few perceived the money as repayable. Reports of widespread corruption in the use of funds by local officials, already rumored, began to appear in the official press.®® KKK was simply going the way of all crash programs, but one so transparently designed to lubricate the patronage network was especially vulnerable to such problems. Even judicial reorganization degenerated into an audacious exercise in patronage. It was primarily executed by Justice Minister Ricardo Puno, reputedly a protege of the First Lady, though the president was

^"^Times Journal,

May

and 20, 1982. 1982, and Jose Conrado Benitez, “The Kilusan: Break-

9, 15, 17,

Business Day, January 7, through for the Poor,” Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook, 1982—83, pp. 58—59, 63. Business Day, March 3, 1982.

Times Journal,

March

7,

1983.

68 Ibid., April 13, 15, 1983.

258

Filipino Politics

personally interested as well. In August 1980 Marcos created by ex-

Committee on Judicial Reorganization, which in its report of October urged the “need for a major reform in the judicial system.” There was much discussion of the problem of clogged dockets, of justice delayed, and of the necessity to suit the court system “to the exigencies of the present Philippine society.” The report became the basis of a bill enacted by the Batasan in August 1981. Despite constituecutive order a

tional protection for judicial tenure, this act abolished

from the Court of Appeals down

all

inferior

municipal level, and the judges’ positions as well. The legislation was challenged on constitutional grounds in the Supreme Court, which, however, sustained it in March 1982.^® The president later held extended meetings with KBL courts,

regional chairmen to hear reports “on

to the

members of the judiciary

facing

charges,” assuring the public, however, that “politics will not be a

consideration in appointment” of

new judges.

In

fact,

no new judge

was appointed without the regional chairman giving clearance. The argument for clearing clogged dockets was superhcially persuasive, for the reorganized court system would have 230 more judicial positions than the old one, and in the old system many slots were unhlled. Soon after he began making new appointments, however, the president admitted that the budget would also prevent him from hlling all the new positions.^ In effect, the president had the opportunity for a thorough check on the political loyalty of all judges, to reward some with new appointments, and to retain a backlog of positions for future rewards. The patron-client structure had, at least temporarily, been ^

bolstered.

The Coconut Industry:

The coconut

New Field for Patrimonialism

which provides the Philippines’ most valuable export, had been a microcosm of the political economy of patrimonialism since the declaration of martial law. A skillful power grab by Marcos cronies further centralized economic control and thus patronage, intensihed intraelite strife, and redistributed vast funds away from the small farmer, thereby contributing to unrest and in some industry,

areas the eventual

®^See De

breakdown of the

patron-client network.

Liana et al. vs. Alba et al., G.R. no. 57883, March 12, 1982. January 3, 9, February 17, 1983. Ibid., January 10, February 2, 1983. ^2 See “Coco Levy Controversy,” 1BON Facts and Figures no. 86 (March 15, 1982); Cuy Sacerdoti, “Cracks in the Coconut Shell,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 8, 1982, pp. 42-48; Sacerdoti, “Marcos Cracks a Nut,” ibid., February 12, 1982, pp. 63—64; and la

"^^Times Journal,

259

Transition to Normalization

Capital to

make

possible this whole endeavor was derived

from

a levy

on coconut farmers. In 1974, when world prices were high, a presidential decree increased it from FI 5 to FI 00 per hundred kilograms of copra and diverted it to a multipurpose fund at the Philippine Coconut Authority (PCA), a government agency especially concerned with replanting hybrid varieties. Juan Ponce-Enrile, minister of defense, was made PCA chairman, and only one man, Eduardo Cojuangco, had import rights on the hybrid that the authority favored, so all seedlings were purchased from him. These two men became the center of the new coconut empire. Revenues from the coconut levy were growing much faster than the costs of replanting, but Enrile refused to spend them for free fertilizer or equipment for farmers. They were used instead to buy the undercapitalized Eirst United Bank, owned by the Cojuangco family and long headed by Ninoy Aquino’s father-in-law. (Eduardo was the first cousin of Ninoy’s wife but had been alienated from her family for years). Through a complicated series of transactions Eduardo Cojuangco ended up not only president but 7.2 percent owner, even though funds for the purchase came from the levy. The bank did very well; as the United Coconut Planters Bank its gross assets grew at 50 percent per year between 1975 and 1980, making it the sixth-largest private bank in the country. It held levy proceeds without paying interest, and accumulated collections by 1982 reached F8 billion. Nearly 10 percent of bankshares were held in trust for “benehciaries unknown” generally assumed to include the Marcos family. Guy Sacerdoti has summed up the process:

—

The farmer

effectively pays

most of the

levy,

which

is

collected by the

PCA, on

whose board Cojuangco sits. The money is then placed on deposit, interest-free in UCPB, whose president is Cojuangco. Some is withdrawn by PCA to buy the hybrid seedlings from the seednut farm, whose president is Cojuangco. The farmer gets his seedlings, paid for by the levy, [but] to carry him through the seedlings’ unproductive first years borrows some of the levy money back [from the bank, at interest].

But the bank was only the hrst step. In 1978 President Marcos set aside a portion of the coconut levy, by decree, to hnance the vertical integration of the whole coconut industry, including milling, oil processing, and exporting. The United Coconut Oil Mills Company (UNICOM) was chartered for the purpose.

Gary Hawes, The

Philippine State and the Marcos Regime: The Politics of Export (Ithaca:

Cornell University Press, 1987), chap.

2.

260

Filipino Politics

In the

late

1970s

many

private millers

had

overbuilt; in hnancial diffi-

up by UNICOM. A presidential “letter of instruction” in September 1979 facilitated UCPB purchase of UNICOM, of which Cojuangco became president. Enrile’s law partners

culty,

they were bought

acquired 20 percent of the shares with 1 percent of the paid-up capital. By 1982 UNICOM had twenty-two mills, theoretically “owned on the farmers’ behalf,” which had 93 percent of national milling capacity, assets of B1.2 billion, and sales of over F3 billion, making it the Philippines’ largest exporter of any kind. UNICOM was unsuccessful, however, in its attempts to monopolize copra buying at the farmgate, hrst in 1977 and again in 1980 and 1981. Cojuangco underestimated the resilience of small Chinese-Filipino copra buyers who were also local patrons. In the meantime he projected his own patronage role with generous contributions to candidates in the 1980 local elections. In addition there were over 17,000 “Juan Ponce Enrile scholars” and nearly 5700 “President Marcos scholars” (paid from levy proceeds) in high schools and vocational schools in coconut areas. In 1981, however, the coconut levy came under criticism spearheaded by Emmanuel Pelaez, minister of state, member of the Batasan and of the Executive Committee, and himself a large coconut planter. He found backing from Prime Minister Virata and quiet support from the Romualdez clan, the family of the First Lady. In September 1981 President Marcos thus suspended the levy for six months “to study its effects” and abandoned the floor price. But in less than a month, when Virata was out of the country, Marcos reversed himself. A levy of B50 per hundred kilos was reimposed (B26 lower than before), but a support price was not. The actual market price dropped nearly P50. Attacks by Pelaez and others escalated, even in the official press, but in December the president gave orders for the issue to disappear from the media. Several months later there was an unsuccessful, gangland-style murder attempt on Pelaez, which many connected to the levy debate.

In January 1982 the president dropped the levy further, to P32, but the institutional structure of the coconut monopoly survived. The levy

—

took nearly 20 percent of coconut farmers’ gross receipts and 90 percent of such farmers eked out a marginal existence on no more than 10 hectares. Indeed, some observers linked the rise of insurgency in coconut-growing Samar, Bicol, and Mindanao with hardship caused by the levy. Thus a mechanism designed to centralize patronage actually served to stimulate a popular mobilization that undermined the whole political patronage system. Political mobilization threatened not only still

Transition to Normalization

261

patronage but the whole facade of normalization built upon it. Evidence of mobilization was to be seen in the growth of NPA-led insurgency and in some activities of the church.

Church-State Relations and Political Mobilization

The most

publicized event of the decade in church-state relations in the Philippines was, of course, the much postponed papal visit in 1981.

The

pope’s messages seemed designed to provide

some

dissatisfaction to each political grouping.

some

satisfaction

and

He

lauded the church’s efforts to protect human rights and stand up for social justice, but also warned against class struggle and the use of violence. He encouraged strong activism by the clergy on behalf of the poor and exploited, but only so far as it avoided violent methods or collaboration with Marxists. One radical nun complained, “What does he think fighting for human rights is if not class struggle? He should stop giving us platitudes.” A progressive priest concluded, on the other hand, “We have neither gained nor lost by [the pope’s] visit.”^^ Church activists used the papal tour as a chance to project their message to a wider audience and to speed political mobilization. The People’s Assembly for the Pope’s Arrival (PAPA) was formed to organize prayer rallies and marches. The large contingent of foreign journalists who arrived early was on hand to report their activities. In urban areas more and more priests and nuns were living outside conventos with the poor. Sister Christine Tan, former head of AMRSP (Women), moved to the slums with hve other nuns in 1979. Said one of her coworkers, “We organize people for power, to stand for their rights. We help them to be more critical, to see the root causes of their poverty.”^^ In rural areas the growth of basic Christian communities (BCC) was of the greatest importance. The Catholic Church traditionally had little direct contact with the village; it was a fortunate barrio that had a visit from the parish priest once a year, on the day of the local patron saint. By the early 1980s the BCC movement had practically revolutionized the locus and purpose of church activity in several provinces. Basic Christian communities at the village level, with lay leadership but at least initial religious guidance, not only brought a new awareness of the faith to the peasantry but related that faith to everyday problems, among them illegal expropriation by multinational .

.

.

Philippine Liberation Courier,

March 1981,

p. 1;

Far Eastern Economic Review, February

27, 1981, p. 9. ^"^New York Times, February 14, 1981. in New York Times, February 7, 1981. Quoted by Henry

Kamm

262

Filipino Politics

corporations, midnight raids (sometimes with rape

and

pillage)

by the

and even evacuation from “free hre zones.” Discussions within these communities also encouraged villagers to demand redress of grievances. As one government critic of religious activism charged, the church (or some segments thereof) was indeed trying “to make itself relevant” in changing times. This sense of lay autonomy and new linkages between activists clergy and peasantry greatly strengthened military,

Church-based

The

protest.

One

of the most celebrated cases was in the town of Kabankalan, Negros Occidental, where wealthy estate owners had tried to grab the small untitled homesteads when sugar prices skyrocketed in the early 1970s. Christian communities were well organized and their leaders active. In March 1980 seven peasants, including some Christian lay leaders, were arrested by the military at a wedding party and subsequently “disappeared.” They were feared dead. The Monday after Easter two more peasant lay leaders were dragged from their homes by the military. One, Alex Garsales, had played the part of Christ in the local passion play on Holy Thursday. There Garsales, thirty-four years old and father of four children had made a commitment: “I offer myself to defend the poor and oppressed and to stand for my brothers who are falsely condemned.”^® Five weeks later his decaying body, alongside that of his coworker, was found in a held. Bishop Antonio Fortich, who had taken the side of wronged peasants before, was furious; Cardinal Sin went to Kabankalan in July to offer a mass and speak to a rally of 12,000 Christian community members. Military investigation was unusually efficient, and the provincial constabulary commander was removed. In September the bodies of the seven arrested in March were found buried on the farm belonging to the mayor of Kabankalan. The mayor, an army captain, fourteen soldiers, and a few others were charged with murder. The pope went to Negros to give a special blessing to the widows. Perhaps most signihcant about this case was the church hierarchy’s provocations were grievous.

willingness to It

may have

expend maximum influence

indicated an awareness that

if

to redress a village injustice.

basic Christian

communities

did not feel they were getting both concern and action from the hierarchy, they could become effective support groups for the NPA. (There had been an attempt at NPA infiltration in some areas.)

The

behavior of sugar barons and the military in Negros did not fundamentally change, however, as a result of this brief intervention from Manila, nor was the circle of violence broken. In March 1982 the Quoted by Henry Bulletin Today,

Kamm

October

in ibid.,

11, 1980.

January 29, 1981.

Transition to Normalization

263

mayor of Kabankalan was himself gunned down. The NPA openly claimed responsibility, and few peasants grieved. The military in September 1982 brought charges of subversion and murder against two Columban priests, Australian Brian Gore and Irishman Niall O’Brien, and seven Filipinos all of whom had provided leadership for basic Christian communities and for protest against military abuses. So

—

transparent was the frame-up that in the preliminary hearing one key prosecution witness could not identify the accused correctly, and Father O’Brien had proof that he was not even in Negros at the time. The trial

soon became an embarrassment to Marcos, but the accused refused to accept anything less than full exoneration. At the same time Roberto Benedicto, head of the state sugar monopoly, made an angry speech in Bacolod calling for the removal of foreign priests who “disturb our peace. Not until 1984, however, were the accused released. Marcos clearly had difficulty in persuading the military to lose so much “face,” but he did gain the departure of the two foreign priests from the country.

Church

activities also

suffered harassment in North Cotabato. Meet-

ings of basic Christian communities were tagged “subversive

munistic” by local police and Civilian

tended

Home

to serve elite interests. Barrio officials

and com-

Defense Forces, which sometimes required the

issuance of permits, though meetings were held in barrio chapels or

church seminar houses, and occasionally made attempts to stop them.^^ The bishop reiterated that meetings and services of the basic Christian communities “form a constitutive element of the preaching of the Word of God and as such are within the scope of the Church’s work of evangelization,” pointing out that “official permission to meet within the Church’s premises for

no

Church functions need

not be sought

He

also

could enter churches, convents, or religious houses without a search warrant, which could be issued only with the approval of the bishop of the area, noting that the North Cotabato provincial constabulary commander had recently conhrmed the accuracy of this interpretation. The resolve of local church leaders was strengthened, but harassment did not end. Unfortunately, in other areas bishops were not always as supportive. One of the most tragic failures in the church’s attempt to speak for the oppressed was the murder of Fr. Godofredo Alingal, S.J., in the parish convento of Kibawe, Bukidnon, in April 1981. Alingal was a stressed that

military or

civil officials

Michael Richardson, “Trouble in Sugarland,” Sydney Morning Herald, April 23, 1983. See also Alfred McCoy, Priests on Trial (Melbourne: Penguin, 1984). Letter from bishop of Kidapawan Federico Escaler, S.J., June 28, 1979, in Ichthys,

August

17, 1979.

^

264

Filipino Politics

fearless critic of military abuses

and corrupt government

officials

and

a

highly respected counsellor and teacher. Shortly after the January 1980

he had received a death

he continued to denounce oppression. The shooting, on April 13, was well-planned and executed. Local parishioners believed that the slaying was “politilocal elections

threat, but

cally inspired.

In any case, his assassination may actually have strengthened the faith and raised the social consciousness of the laity in Bukidnon. As his bishop, Francisco Claver, wrote later, “The people who came in throngs

wake and funeral Mass of their pastor were not an intimidated, fearful people, cowed by the violence of his death. Their numbers to the

spoke not of fear but of courage, not of despair but of hope, not of death but of life.” Yet the incident marked an increasing tendency toward the Salvadoran style of church-state confrontation in the Philippines, at least in rural areas. Other activist priests were gunned down in succeeding years. In Manila, fearful of such a development. Cardinal Sin made a dramatic call for an end to the shipment of weapons to the Philippines “from whatever source.”^

Growth of the

NPAINDF

Substantial changes within the church were

matched by those within

the revolutionary opposition. Economic conditions facilitated political

The

dismal economic picture was, to some degree, a common one for energy-poor developing countries, with galloping inflation stimulated by oil prices; oil imports took up mobilization by the Marxist Left.

more than 43 percent of all export proceeds in pressures produced tuition hikes at the many

1980. Inflation-created private universities in

1980, which touched off the most widespread student demonstrations since the advent of martial law; thousands braved police truncheons to protest.

The

wage workers was, of course, even more acute. Their real incomes had been declining steadily in the 1970s (which was not entirely an accident; President Marcos had said in a speech at the Central Bank in January 1974: “Our country has one of the lowest average wage levels in this part of the world. We intend to see to it that our export program is not placed in jeopardy at an early stage by a rapid increase in the general wage level. In August 1980, in an plight of

^^Ichthys, 81

May

W//0, April

^'^Solidaridad

15, 1981. 13, 1983, p. 22.

II,

no. 23 (March/April 1981),

7.

3

Transition to Normalization

attempt to compensate

at least partially for inflation,

the

265

minimum

wage for nonagriculturai workers in Metro-Manila was raised from PI to P14 (while agricultural workers in the countryside were only entitled to PIO), or less than $2.00 per day.^^ In fact, the Ministry of Labor and Employment itself had found that P32.28 per day was necessary simply to feed a family of six in Manila.

allowances” brought total legal

Government-decreed

minimum

“cost of living

day for much. The

receipts to P28.77 per

Manila workers, but only a minority actually received this government-sponsored Trade Union Congress of the Philippines admitted that 65 percent of employers violated labor standards (primarily

nonpayment of wages). Demands for actual payment of legal minimum wages and allowances became the most important cause of strikes, almost all illegal. At the same time an ad hoc alliance of almost all labor unions of whatever political color was modestly demanding that the

minimum

be raised to P33 per day. Earlier in the year a major realignment had taken place in the labor movement, with many federations seceding from the ineffective government-controlled Trade Union Congress of the Philippines (TUCP) to join the Kilusang Mayo Uno (First of May Movement). A rally of approximately 25,000 was held in Quezon City on May 1 to demand not only an increase in the minimum wage but return of the right to strike and “nationalization of all industries controlled by foreign monopoly capitalism.” The military general secretary and other responded with the arrest of the leaders suspected of subversive links. Labor unrest was stimulated not only by inflation but by the rapid growth in unemployment. In the third quarter of 1980 in MetroManila alone, 35,930 (surely an understatement) were reported to have lost their jobs as the result of company shutdowns and cutbacks. The official announcement blamed the layoffs on the impact of high oil prices.®^ In Mindanao the situation seemed even worse. Said Pedro Durano, president of the newly formed Mindanao Federation of Chambers of Commerce and Industry, “growth has ground to a halt in the Southern Philippines,” adding that most firms are forced to lay off workers, merge with stronger firms, or “just close shop.” He warned that fast growing unemployment could “inflate the ranks of subversives.”®® According to the Bureau of Agricultural Economics of the legal

KMU

Presidential Decree no. 1713, SLnd Bulletin Today, September 12, 1980. Solidandad II, no. 23, p. 10, and Bulletin Today, September 8, 1980. Bulletin Today, October 24, 1980. ®®lbid.,

October

15, 1980.

266

Filipino Politics

Ministry of Agriculture, rice farmers were even worse off than

wage

earners: their real net income per hectare had, on the average, dropped 53 percent from 1976 to 1979. Yields dropped somewhat while production expenses rose by 2 1 percent.

The Communist

party claimed that from 1980 to 1981 alone,

operations expanded from 300 to compared with forty, provinces.

more than 400 towns

NPA

in forty-seven,

Party analysis divided the struggle

and the stratemoved from “early”

into three stages, the strategic defensive, the stalemate, gic offensive. In 1981,

it

was announced, the

NPA

“advanced” strategic defensive. Whereas the “early” substage was marked by occasional hit-and-run ambushes and emphasized political education and organization,, the “advanced” sequel was to lead to assaults on outposts and other more sustained actions. The claim in 1981 was 40,000 mass activists (or cadres) and a “mass base” of six million, or more than 10 percent of the population.®^ Though party claims may have sounded grandiose, they were not inconsistent with government statements, and actions. Immediately after the June 1981 presidential election, Ilocos, never troubled by dissidents since independence, saw three new constabulary companies to

formed

campaign in the region.”®^ August reports noted “mounting concern” in government circles “over a fresh series of Communist attacks from Mindanao to the mountains of northern Luzon,” crediting the NPA with 5,000 full-time “to boost the intensihed anti-dissident

guerrillas (diplomats estimated 7,000).^^

These assessments may have been accurate, but both party and government had an interest in exaggeration. Numerous incidents, for instance, were blamed on the NPA to cover up embarrassing conflicts and justify a growing military budget. In February 1979 it was reported Gen. Fortunato U. Abat, Philippine Army chief-of-staff, was killed in an encounter with NPA terrorists in Santa Rita, Samar.” The local bishop informed the press, however, that the parish priest personally witnessed the hrehght, which was between two units of the military establishment.®^ The shooting of a village leader in Sanchez Mira, Cagayan, was blamed by officials on “the NPA.” Villagers knew that the victim’s only error had been in trying to oppose that “Lt. Tito Abat, son of Maj.

®®See

(Montreal), May 1981, p. 2. Asia News interview reprinted in Southeast Asia Record

New

1

(December 7—13,

1979), 11.

FEBC, June 25, 1981. Toronto Globe and Mail, August 12, 1981, Barry Came reported a party claim of “10,000 p. 42. 89Manila,

^^Ichthys,

March

9,

1981.

and Asian Wall Street Journal, June 8, 1983. armed fighters” xnNewsweek, July 27, 1981,

Transition to Normalization

a local landgrabber

267

who had government

backing. In early 1983 press reports of military encounters with the NPA multiplied, and the presi-

dent sent a marine battalion to Mindanao. Encounters may have been real, but when the Philippines ceased demanding more U.S. military aid, reports thinned out. Whatever the strength of the NPA, it clearly acquired new abilities in the early 1980s. In Nueva Ecija an NPA band lectured the guests at a farewell party for two Japanese technicians in a Japanese aid project and then removed cash and valuables worth more than PI 00,000.^^ In Davao City a constabulary colonel was kidnapped for ransom. The NPA obviously was not well funded, and even Defense Minister Enrile admitted that “there is no evidence that the insurgents are receiving funds from Communist governments abroad,” though he claimed that “minimal” amounts came from foreign Communist parties. The National Democratic Eront (NDE) also showed a new political boldness, helping organize mass rallies in town centers. On Eebruary 1, 1981, in Guinayangan, Quezon, nearly 5,000 rice and coconut farmers, hshermen, students, and teachers from six towns gathered to protest military terrorism, the low price of copra, and inflation. As the demonstrators, armed only with placards, approached the town square, three troopers fired directly into the crowd, killing two and wounding seventeen others.®^ Other such demonstrations, though less tragic, were also effective in mobilizing opposition to the regime. The NDE was dealt a blow in April 1982 with the capture of Horacio “Boy” Morales, a leading NDE intellectual and former vice-president of the Development Academy of the Philippines (a government research institution), who had gone underground in 1977, but organizational activity proceeded. Support in the countryside for the insurgents arose from the exploitation of at least four types of grievances. One of the few early accomplishments of martial law had been an end to lawlessness. By the end of the 1970s, however, not only were cattle rustlers and other gangs back in full force, they usually had “special arrangements” with the military, the police, or the Civilian Home Defense Eorce. NPA bands that caught and executed notorious cattle rustlers were instant heroes. The “dissidents” brought peace and order. The failure of Marcos’s land reform to deliver on its promises and the near-collapse of government credit for rice farmers created anTimes Journal, February 28, 1983. Manila, FEBC, June 9, 1981. 94 Manila, FEBC, June 25, 1981. ^^Ichthys, March 20, 1981.

268

Filipino Politics

other opportunity for Marxist organizers. enough in a village, would persuade tenants

The NDF, when

strong

reduce rents and scare landlords into accepting the reduction. The land of particularly unpopular owners was conhscated. The NDF also organized small credit cooperatives, sometimes contributing initial capital. They not only reduced the landlords’ power but took over his function as creditor, often providing medical services as well. In a sense they replaced the local to

patron.

In frontier areas, where small farmers had recently cleared the land,

NPA

protection was eagerly sought against landgrabbers,

had good government connections and even retired

army

usually

military protection.

One

logging concessionaire, and landgrabber in Isa-

officer,

bela was shot.®^

who

When

peasants saw the

NPA

protecting their farms,

and even material support for the guerrillas followed. The appearance of the NPA in a village frequently triggered brutal oppression by local officials and military detachments. The situation became so bad in Samar that even the bishops called for complete military withdrawal. Military abuse then became an additional reason political

to seek

NPA

protection. Barrio or barangay captains

creasingly autocratic

under strong government pressure

became

in-

to participate

campaign. The Ministry of Defense made some effort in 1979 to discipline the military and curb abuses, but by 1981 even Enrile saw the futility of the effort. He accused the Communists of having “embarked on a propaganda campaign to denounce alleged military abuses in order to draw public attention away from dissident Charges of military abuse that are only “propaganda” atrocities. require no investigation, of course. In 1981 Minister Enrile warned that “the real danger to Philippine society is the Communist Party of the Philippines and its military arm, the New People’s Army,”^® even though months earlier he had said that the bomb-throwing Christian social democrats were more dangerous. And in 1982—83 their activity expanded. Even the military recognized they had “some degree of influence” in 20 percent of the country’s villages. Obviously the NPA, a convenient excuse for dictatorship in in the antidissident

1972, had benefited greatly from martial law. By the 1980s they had again become the autocrat’s argument for keeping himself in power.

^^Ibid.,

November

2,

1979.

^"^Toronto Globe and Mail, August 12, 1981. 98 Manila, FEBC, June 25, 1981.

Asiaweek,

May

6,

1983,

p.

20.

269

Transition to Normalization

The Muslim Rebellion

The

other rebellion, which once had top billing, was described by government spokesmen as “dying.” In fact, the Muslim affairs minister claimed that the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) had been emasculated by continuing government operations and had lost its capacity to conduct organized armed attacks. While it was true that by the early 1980s the Muslim rebellion had become a much more limited war than at its height in 1973—35, it still meant hundreds, perhaps thousands, of deaths per year. Best estimates still counted more than 10,000 armed men in the Bangsa Moro Army.^®^ The minister’s

comments,

like so

many government

claims before, were

quite unrealistic.

the bloodiest single incident in the war took place on Pata, a small island off Jolo, in February and March 1981.^®^ On February 12,

In

fact,

and hacked to death 119 men of the army’s 31st infantry battalion, which had recently arrived on the island. About forty villagers died in two and one-half hours, in a battle apparently triggered against a background of many grievances by soldiers stealing gold jewelry while Muslim men were at prayer in the mosque. Military retaliation was herce. The air force bombed, the navy shelled coastal areas, and thousands of soldiers landed on Pata. Estimates of the dead ranged from several hundred to 3,000, mostly Muslim villagers who had nothing to do with the original incident. Thus the military’s behavior supported the widespread Muslim fear that the government’s villagers shot

—

—

true intent was genocide.

The

incident did not set off a general

counterattack, however, because the leadership had decided rational allocation of military resources.

on

a

BMA more

There were no more promises

of quick victory; military training was reoriented to sharpen guerrilla techniques and to avoid unprohtable confrontations. may have been partially a Greater military sophistication in the result of increased contacts with the NPA. The government had been charging for some time that Muslims were providing military supplies

BMA

in

exchange for

NPA

tary actions resulted, for there

Christian and

But no joint

tactical training.

were

still

Muslim supporters. By

101 p.

FEBC, June

between their 1983 the MNLF was offering

late

NPA.

12, 1981.

Richard Vokey, “Island under the Gun,” Far Eastern Economic Review,

36.

See Ross Munro in Washington Star, March 21, 1981. lO^Minister Enrile in Toronto Globe and Mail, August 12, 1981. 102

mili-

cultural tensions

public disclaimers of any cooperation with the lOOManila,

BMA/NPA

May

8,

1981,

270

Filipino Politics

MNLF

was more open to other cooperation. Nur Misuari, the MNLF chairman, met more than once with Benigno Aquino and once UNIDO sought to assure the as well with a UNIDO representative. MNLF of their commitment to genuine autonomy for Muslims, at the same time perhaps exploring possible cooperation should they choose the path of violence. More important, the MNLF sought reconciliation

The

with a factional offshoot, the Bangsa Moro Liberation Organization, based in Saudi Arabia and headed by Raschid Lucman (a reconciliation

apparently furthered by Aquino). In May 1981 the two groups merged and offered to resume negotiations with Marcos on the defunct Tripoli Agreement but only with some very stiff preconditions. It was more like a renewed declaration of warfare. Shortly after this merger,

—

which showed early tion of the

members

MNLF

strains, the Islamic

Conference restated

as sole representative

to pressure the Philippine

of the

Moro

its

recogni-

people, urged

government to implement the on them to provide the MNLF

1976 Tripoli Agreement, and called with “material and moral assistance.” Within a year the MNLF had consolidated its own support base, gained Christian Filipino allies, and solidihed its international backing. Those successes, alongside continuing military abuses that further embittered Muslim villagers, provided a formula for prolonged armed struggle. If normalization was supposed to crush violent opposition, it was not working. Dilemmas of Normalization Despite the fundamental problems he faced, Ferdinand Marcos ap-

peared from 1978

to

1983

pursuit of normalization.

to follow fairly consistent tactics in the

He coaxed and tamed

the

elite

opposition

while banishing his most serious competition, Ninoy Aquino; he tried to crush the violent opposition,

both right and

strengthened Imelda’s position. Five years of normalization accomplished

left;

and he

steadily

however, even within the president’s narrow definition. By 1983 violent opposition was stronger than ever. There had been no progress in coopting the reformist opposition; on the contrary, some elite elements showed signs of cooperating with the NDF. The church, on balance, was more hostile.

Nor did IMF-dehned normalization showed no evidence of i04^gence France Presse,

prosper. Economic technicians

ability to survive

Hong Kong, June

little,

the rough and tumble of

18, 1981,

1981.

Ang Katipunan, June 16—30, i06Agence France Presse,

1981.

Hong Kong, June

13, 1981.

and New

York Times, April 20,

Transition to Normalization

succession politics. Yet this

petence as a

The

is

271

hardly to be explained by Marcos’s incom-

political tactician.

profound difficulties. A patrimonial regime focuses legitimacy and power in the personal loyalties of thousands of followers for the leader and thus hnds succession especially problematical. Institutions are weak. The president himself recognized in 1982, “Everybody believes that if I step down, the party [the KBL] will break up.”^^^ Loyalties are to person not president’s attempts at normalization involved two

office. Clearly the

come

president was giving his wife opportunities to be-

own

She certainly had personal control over more funds than any other cabinet member to expand her clientage. But no client could cease to cultivate a president who still controlled the military, the police, and the major hnancial institutions. An officially designated successor, moreover, could quickly usurp power or be destroyed in the attempt, and Marcos would lose control of the succession. Imelda complemented the arrangement with occasional comments of the genre, “When the President steps down, I hope to step down with him. ... I never had political ambitions.” No one bea superpatron in her

right.

lieved her, but she probably recognized that such statements also dif-

fused efforts to focus opposition against her. The president appeared to abandon his policy in February 1983 when he named Prime Minister Virata as his “likely successor.” Six weeks later he “corrected” himself, however, claiming to have said that would have the edge,” mentioning “whoever was Prime Minister that Enrile, Ongpin, Laya, or Roho might just as well be prime minister Marcos also indicated that he might seek another term in as Virata. 1987, “to prevent a factional hght from dividing the Philippines.” The more fundamental dilemma he faced was that no authoritarian regime can assure the short-term protection of its own interests (which in this case included family interests) and at the same time strengthen institutional legitimacy for purposes of a stable succession. S. P. Lopez, respected diplomat, university president, and columnist, put the dilemma this way: “How to have an opposition real enough to be credible, The agony of but not strong enough to topple him from power. incompatible goals was played out at several levels. Marcos’s economic policies, for example, created mass unrest, stimulated class con.

.

.

David Dowell, “Marcos Seems Preoccupied with an Orderly Succession,” Street Journal, February 11, 1982. Asiaweek, April 2, 1982, p. 21. ^^^Times Journal, February 22, 1983, buried in another article with elaboration, and Canberra Times, April 8, 1983.

^^^Times Journal,

May

7,

1982.

i45ittn

Wall

no headline or

272

Filipino Politics

and thus fed the Left. Yet only by winning client loyalties through patronage could he hope to open up the electoral process and sciousness,

retain ultimate control.

still

The dilemmas

of normalization, and the president’s consciousness of them, were implicit in four major events in 1982—83. The hrst two revealed a Marcos driven to narrow the gap between himself and an old economic elite ever more critical of the regime. The president’s solution was merger, through purchase or marriage. The largest enterprise in the Philippines, a multinational in

its

own

right,

is

the San

Miguel Corporation (originally just a brewery), a bastion of the top Hispanic-Filipino elite. Andres Soriano was chairman, Enrique Zobel vice-chairman; cousins and-long-time friends, they got into a battle for

corporate control. After a vigorous fight Zobel signaled defeat and sold his $20 million holdings. Only later was it revealed that he had been

bought out by Eduardo Cojuangco’s United Coconut Planters’ Bank; Cojuangco became SMC vice-chairman. Thus the most powerful Marcos crony acquired a foothold in the very headquarters of old wealth. In 1984 Soriano died of cancer and Cojuangco became chairman.^ But this was not enough. The Araneta family owned flour mills, sugar plantations, a university, an engineering hrm, and many other enterprises; it was an entirely Eilipino segment of the economic elite. In the spring of 1983 the president’s youngest daughter married Gregorio Araneta III in a rather lavish wedding: 5,000 guests, a $15,000 bridal gown, and total expenses estimated at anywhere from $10 to $100 million (a new airport and new hotel in the president’s province of Ilocos Norte were required for the occasion).^ Marcos thus made his family part of the very elite that he feared. Another segment of the elite, intellectuals, successful professionals, and big businessmen, were the graduates of the country’s hnest private university, the Jesuits’ Ateneo de Manila. One of Ateneo’s most distinguished alumni was known to his classmates as a deeply committed reformist, a leader of the Christian student

movement in

the late 1960s.

After martial law Edgar Jopson had gone underground. He was killed by the military in Mindanao, reputedly a top NPA commander. In September 1982 his friends planned a memorial service for him in the

Ateneo chapel, but pressure from the regime caused cancelation. This move created such a storm protest from affluent alumni, however, that the service was rescheduled. More than two hundred mourners turned

See Asian Wall Street Journal, January 28-29, May 11,1 983, and intervening issues. i‘^See Time account in Malaya, July 4-10, 1983, and Asian Wall Street Journal, June 20,

^ 1 ^

^

1983.

Transition to Normalization

273

company directors, lawyers, and senior civil servants.^ Explained one management consultant, “I attended to pay tribute to

out, including

a

great Filipino patriot,” one indication of perhaps the most powerful

—

trend developing counter to the president’s plans the willingness of some within the elite to consider cooperation with the Left. It also indicated depths of the antipathy to Marcos, which neither joint enterprise nor marriage contracts would overcome. Finally, an inherent contradiction that threatened normalization surfaced in May 1983. Crony criticism of Prime Minister Virata fueled in part by Imelda erupted in the KBL caucus, clothed in nationalist rhetoric condemning the IMF and those who did its bidding. Virata submitted his resignation, but it was refused. International bankers were obviously worried, and those worries were reflected in a laudatory article about Virata in the Asian Wall Street Journal^^"^ which called him the “only honest man” in the Philippine government. Marcos threatened to sue the Journal but at the same time confirmed that he would

—

—

keep

Virata.

sify in

The

tension between technocrats and cronies would inten-

the following year, which could be described only as a period of

rapidly accelerating political decay. See Alfred McCoy, “The Seeds of Revolution,” National Times, April 5—21, 1983, 28.

Asian Wall Street Journal,

May

27—28, 1983.

p.

10

From Accelerated Decay to "Revolutionary" Succession

Political

decay

is

a decline of institutional legitimacy

which under-

mines a regime’s capability both to implement its own policies and to hear demands from various groups in society for change. It is often associated with a loss of autonomy, that is, the regime’s relative independence from foreign constraints. In all these respects 1983—85 could be described only as a period of accelerated decay, for the Philippines, a decay intertwined with, feeding on, and being fed by, the intensihed struggle to succeed the president. In 1986 that struggle took an unex-

pected course. Despite initial impressions of a “revolution,” however, the change in leadership does not seem to have brought more funda-

mental alterations

in the political system.

Poorly institutionalized systems, such as the Marcos regime, are especially vulnerable to the

sion process.

Two

factors

break-up of the ruling coalition in the succes-

seemed

to contribute to the Philippine break-

up: increasing doubts about future stability (because of the failing health of Marcos and the rising strength of the revolutionary move-

ment) and diminishing opportunities for proht for the economic elite. As economic conditions worsened after the 1979 oil shock, opportunities diminished most rapidly for those outside the narrow circle of political favor, but even for some originally within that circle, inefficiency and greed forced cutbacks, contributing to the inhghting. Faced with declining resources, however, Ferdinand Marcos still made masof local elites. To what extent the gradual break-up in the ruling coalition was a result of direct intervention by the U.S. government or the World Bank group is difficult to document, though an internal White House memorandum claimed some “successes” in this regard. In any case U.S. pressure for reform in the military appeared to be intense and strengthened the anti-Ver faction. World Bank insistence, only partially successful, on reducing state intervention in the economy sharpened sive outlays to insure the loyalty

Accelerated Decay

among

275

and the old economic elite. These external actors were, of course, intent on constructing a new ruling coalition more coincident with their own interests. Such plans were friction

fundamentally

technocrats, cronies,

at

variance with those of the radical opposition.

The Aquino Assassination

The

fatal

shooting of Benigno Aquino,

Jr., at

the Manila airport

on

August 21, 1983, brought the succession struggle in the Philippines to worldwide attention and greatly accelerated the elite break-up. To understand that event we must hrst appreciate Aquino’s motives for return.

The

president’s brief hospitalization before his triumphal state

visit

September 1982 had intensihed speculation about his longevity. But the state visit boosted Marcos’s morale, and despite his rigorous pace, his health seemed to improve. (Those who to the

United States

diagnosed

in

lupus spoke of this as a period of remission.) For Benigno Aquino the Marcos state visit only reinforced his experience since Reagan had taken office. His hope of American backing as an alternative to Marcos a hope typical of many in the elite had been dashed, his Washington connections largely swept away by the Reagan tide. Aquino was thrown back on his own resources, good rapport with the world press, a crowd-pleasing charismatic appeal, and a strong sense of his own political destiny. His desire to return home was not dampened by his second meeting at the Waldorf-Astoria with Imelda Marcos, in May 1983. After a renewed effort to buy his cooperation his condition as

—

—

had

Ninoy later told friends, Imelda adopted a vehement, bitter tone. She warned him gravely of plots against his life which were “beyond the control of the President.” But Ninoy thought assassination failed,

He

chose to return home in August, despite considerable contrary advice, because of an almost naive faith in the prospect of rational dialogue with President Marcos (and perhaps in power sharing.) New reports of the president’s deteriorating health made the need for dialogue seem more urgent to Aquino, who hoped that a man close to the end of his life would be more philosophical. In any case, he apparently believed it would be opportune to be in the Philippines unlikely.

when Marcos died. The bloody scene on in

is all

too vivid

may be years before we fully understand the event. The murder was a shock even to those

our memories, but

true nature of the

the tarmac of the Manila airport

it

familiar with Philippine politics, not because there

were no fears for

Aquino’s safety but because the killing was so brazen, so calculated to

276

Filipino Politics

government. Ferdinand Marcos himself was believed to have eliminated several political enemies since his youth, and the military had “salvaged” hundreds in recent years; someone tried to kill former vice-president Emmanuel Pelaez after the coconut levy debate. Settings for those evil deeds, however, were remote or confused, and tracks were few. But to have acted in a blaze of worldwide publicity seemed incomprehensible. The Filipino opposition quickly blamed Marcos, while the U.S. government absolved him personally. Many thought Imelda and General Ver primarily responsible. In his August 22 news conference an invalid president said, somewhat pathetically, “no matter what explanation we make now, there will be some kind of shadow over the government, and this was never, never our purpose. We had hoped the matter could be handled with a focus blame on

little

more

someone

in

hnesse.”^

President Marcos had long suspected links between Aquino and the

CIA, of which Ninoy had openly bragged in the 1950s. In the 1978 Batasan campaign, when Ninoy was an opposition candidate from his prison

cell,

government broadsides

stressed his connections with

American intelligence. Events in mid- 1983 must therefore have looked ominous to Marcos. In early June U.S. Secretary of State George Schultz went to Manila to see the president. Later one of his aides told the New York Times that “the Marcos regime is entering its twilight and we don’t want to hnd ourselves in the same position as we did in Iran when the Shah was overthrown. On June 23 Aquino himself told a House subcommittee in Washington that the Philippines was on the brink of disaster unless Marcos shared power with the opposition. A few days later the assistant secretary of state for Asia and the Pacihc delivered a softer but similar message on Capitol Hill.

The president may have viewed these statements as the orchestration of a new U.S. policy, and the apparent foolhardiness of Ninoy’s determination to return, even after receiving the direst of warnings, would have conhrmed the president’s suspicion of American backing. Some of his statements and actions were consistent with this interpretation. In late July, for instance, Marcos “clarihed” lines of authority in the military, revealing that Defense Minister Juan Ponce-Enrile and Constabulary Commander Gen. Fidel Ramos, both considered to have

good American connections, had been severely downgraded while the control of General Ver over the entire military had been solidihed. The

1

Foreign Broadcast Information Service (FBIS), August 24, 1983, quoting

Network, August 23. ^Quoted in Hong Kong, AFP, September

vision

9,

1983.

RPN

Tele-

Accelerated Decay

277

president also appointed twenty-seven new general officers, almost all reputed to be Ver’s proteges. It is possible to imagine that Ferdinand Marcos, or Imelda, believed the only way to control Ninoy, given his

powerful foreign backers, was

to eliminate

him immediately on

his

return.

The

president’s

own

version of the assassination blamed “the

Com-

who had

played such a useful role for him in the past. (Prime Minister Virata, however, admitted that “some elements of the government” may have been involved.)^ Yet to admit they had the capability was also to admit a terrible, unparalleled breach in military security. The argument for motive was also inconclusive. Although the removal of a popular, pro-American critic of the regime might have tipped the balance of opposition forces toward the Communist party by weakening the moderate voice, the party in the 1980s had followed a generally cautious policy, avoiding provocations that would rapidly enhance the power of the military (as this event did). Party leadership, in fact, had great difficulty in developing a consensus on how to deal with the post- Aquino crisis. Despite the public fascination with various details of timing, ballistics, identification of bodies, and disappearing witnesses, about which a society with a superabundance of lawyers was particularly curious, most Filipinos believed that their president was responsible for the shooting of his major rival. Thus they could not imagine that any investigating commission appointed by that president would reveal the whole truth about the incident. In fact, the inability of the first commission to either gain legitimacy or begin its work indicated the damage the assassination had indicted on the regime. The second commission, however, headed by Judge Corazon Agrava, showed surprising initiative, a result in part of public American encouragement and probably also private assurances of U.S. support and protection. In the short term Aquino’s bloody sacrifice popularly equated with Rizal’s^ may have gone farther toward undermining the authoritarian regime than any contributions Ninoy could have made in the complex compromises of life. Anger at this brazen killing spread to segments of the population that were never before politicized, both high and low. A more rapid erosion of regime legitimacy and a sudden acceleration in the growth of demonstrations and other forms of political participation the government dared not enforce prohibitions that originated munists,” faceless culprits

—

—

—

^FBIS, September 2, 1983, quoting FEBC, September 1. 4 See Reynaldo C. lleto, “Rizal and the Underside of Philippine History,” in David Wyatt and Alexander Woodside, eds.. Moral Order and the Question of Change: Essays on SE Asian Thought, Yale University Southeast Asian Studies (New Haven, 1982), pp. 274—337.

278

Filipino Politics

from martial law years

—were the most immediate consequences of the

assassination, setting a

new

Changes of mood had economics

as well.

The

stage for the succession struggle.

a direct impact not only

on

politics

but on

increasing prospect of political instability shat-

tered confidence of investors and creditors, both at

home and

abroad.

two months after the assassination was estimated at over $1 billion.^ The devaluation of the peso in early October by 21 percent (which followed a nearly 8 percent devaluation in June) may have been an adjustment to reality, but it merely slowed the flight of hard currency. In October the Philippines also declared a moratorium on foreign debt repayment, and in the atmosphere of crisis foreign banks slowed or even stopped proffering credit. The shift in mood in the Philippine business community was among the more dramatic developments after August 21. In 1981 the newly formed Makati Business Club became the most articulate representative of business interests. It was headed by the ambitious and dynamic Enrique Zobel, president of Ayala Corporation (one of the major concentrations of old wealth), and Zobel’s name surfaced again in September 1983 as protest grew. Business support for the frequent anti-Marcos demonstrations in Makati became widespread, extending by November to provincial cities. Jaime Ongpin, president of Benguet Corporation and brother of a Marcos cabinet member, became an even more articulate Marcos critic than Zobel, calling for free elections, immediate choice of a vice-president, and the resignation of Imelda Marcos from all offices. This shift within the economic elite from dominantly covert to more overt opposition had profound consequences. In 1983 it complemented the protests of UNIDO, then the major moderate opposition grouping, and made it easier for U.S. policy makers to think about alternatives to Marcos. Capital flight in the

first

Moderate Opposition

UNIDO

was formed

1980 as an alliance of several opposition groups and had not yet been transformed into a single party. Senator Aquino, it had been generally assumed, would return to the Philippines to provide unity by becoming chairman. In the meantime Salvador Laurel, long-time Nacionalista party stalwart who had been elected to the Batasan in 1978, acted as head of UNIDO while making frequent trips abroad to consult with Aquino. He had neither the in

^See Guy Sacerdoti, “The Crunch Comes,” Far Eastern Economic Review, October 20, 1983,

p. 66.

Also Asian Wall

Street Journal Weekly,

November

21, 1983.

Accelerated Decay

personality nor the reputation, however, to

Aquino could, though

command

279

the respect that

September he resigned from the Batasan to emphasize his opposition to the regime. While Aquino’s sacrihce altered the national mood, therefore, it may have been a blow to the organizational strength of the group he would have led. UNIDO did not in 1983 have a local-level structure in most provinces. From November, however, UNIDO expanded its activity; Laurel held “prayer rallies” (to avoid police restrictions) around the country and tried to reactivate

some old

in

Nacionalista patronage networks.

UNIDO protests were augmented by the vocal role of Jaime Cardinal As a good shepherd he voiced the discontent that his flock could not, but he also maintained political dialogue with the regime to decrease the likelihood of a damaging attack on church interests. In 1983 Sin.

the hierarchy was increasingly concerned about Marxist influence in

some bishops not only sympathized with the inclination of some of their priests to work with Communistled organizations but were themselves capable of dialogue and cooperation with them. Perhaps as many as 2 to 3 percent of priests and nuns were committed to the NDF; by 1983 dialogue with their bishps had become more difficult. Testimony in late 1982 from an arrested priest in Samar had shocked the hierarchy by its revelations, under military interrogation, of Communist infiltration of the church. Several progressive bishops also felt that Catholics working with the NDF had deceived them, and at the same time were receiving messages from the Vatican urging disengagement. In a more fundamental sense the incompatibility between Christian teaching on violence, to which many progressives tried very hard to be faithful, and the Marxist line became more evident as the armed struggle heated up; guerrillas as well as soldiers occasionally succumbed to the temptation for mindless revenge.® By February 1983 the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) agreed unanimously, for the first time, on vigorous the church. Until the late 1970s

regime coupled with condemnation of the use of violence for political ends and of the subordination of Christian to atheist ideologies, which provided a firmer doctrinal basis for clerical anticommunism.^ NDF recruitment of and coordination

criticism of the excesses of the

with Catholic clergy could not, therefore, continue to expand it

had

at

the rate

since the late 1970s.

Nevertheless, the February pastoral letter did

mark an

escalation in

®See, for instance, Bishop Francisco Claver, “An Option for Peace,” address to PDP convention, Cagayan de Oro City, February 5, 1983. ^“A Dialogue for Peace,” Joint Pastoral Letter, Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines, February 20, 1983.

280

Filipino Politics

church attacks on the Marcos regime. Cardinal Sin, a personal friend of Aquino, lent dignity and force to the protest over Aquino’s death. Nearly one million people joined the funeral procession. On November 27, Aquino’s birthday and the beginning of Advent, the CBCP issued another pastoral letter urging “reconciliation” as a way to avoid the “bloodbath of revolution” and asking those who espoused violence to reconsider it in light of “the unique demands of a gospel of love.” It also called for an “end to graft and corruption,” honest elecofficial

tions in

May

church

built a

1984, and the restoration of people’s basic rights.®

much

opposition, having

The

better communications system than did the secular

added

in

November 1983

a business-backed weekly

newspaper, Veritas, to the widely respected Radio Veritas (hrst to report Ninoy’s assassination). Church leaders and groups were becoming more important informal allies of UNIDO, of the Jesuit-backed Filipino Democratic party (PDF), and of business activists. Because of the organizational efforts of bishops and businessmen, the immediate consequences of the assassination were the political activation of centrist forces rather than polarization. Still, by early 1984 the president’s stubborn resistance to demands for his resignation or, at least, some basic reforms dulled the optimistic mood of middle-class demonstrators, leaving the held more open for mass mobilization by the Left, which capitalized on the growing sense that legal, peaceful opposition to the Marcos regime were fruitless.

Radical Opposition

UNIDO’s

campaign

Marcos was, of course, the Communist Party of the Philippines. The urban focus of political reaction to the murder of Aquino, however, made the work of the party’s National Democratic Front and its affiliates more important. The NDF, open to all “patriotic and democratic forces” according to the CPP, had an “organizational base” in certain groups of youth, labor, squatters, and churchworkers.^ A few groups were widely recognized as being party-controlled, but the NDF also had temporary alliances greatest rival in the

to unseat

with a great variety of other organizations.

favored new and broader coalitions. As early as 1981, when Marcos had held a rigged presidential election to which the only logical response was boycott, a coalition to promote electoral abstention Political crisis

^Quoted

in

New

November 27, 1983, p. 3. Revolution: The United Front

York Times,

^See “Preparing for the in the Philippines,” Southeast Asia Chronicle no. 62 (May—June 1978), 6—7. Also “Turning Point: The Takes the Lead,” Southeast Asia Chronicle no. 83 (April 1982), 2—7.

NDF

Accelerated Decay

281

had been formed, spanning the entire opposition spectrum. In 1982, however, NDF efforts to initiate such a broad coalition on a more permanent basis did not come to fruition. The killing of Aquino created common ground regardless of ideological differences. “Justice for Aquino, Justice for All,” or JAJA, was a coalition formally headed by the elderly but still vigorous former senator Lorenzo Tahada. More active leadership seems to have come from former senator Jose Diokno, JAJA secretary, probably the country’s most widely respected nationalist and human rights advocate, who had strong support among progressive church leaders and close connections with Amnesty International. The Aquino and Laurel families were also represented in JAJA’s hrst planning sessions, along with delegates from radical groups who were active but not dominant. JAJA coordinated most major demonimportance of UNIDO in that regard. But, as in 1981, effective cooperation over such a broad spectrum did not survive. In 1984 JAJA favored boycott of the elections; so Laurel and others wanting to participate broke off; JAJA was not dissolved but gradually disintegrated. Another organization was launched in November 1983, the Nationalist Alliance for Justice, Freedom and Democracy, also chaired by Tahada and with a stronger secretariat than JAJA’s, clearly designed to survive for a longer period. The language of the voluminous secretariat publications implied that orientation toward the NDF was much Diokno was not involved, but a few key UNIDO closer than JAJA’s. and PDP-Laban hgures sat on the national council. Some moderate nationalists responded favorably to NDF initiatives for a united front because they were impressed by the Left’s ability to mobilize a mass following and discouraged by the chances for reform entirely through parliamentary processes. Instances of crude military repression of peaceful demonstrations deepened that discouragement. strations in late 1983, surpassing the

Marcos and

The

the Military

down of demonstrators,

on September 21, 1983, had been rather rare under “martial law Philippine style.” But the illness of the president seemed to leave the military at times without moderating political guidance. Peaceful demonstrators were again killed and wounded by the military near Malacahang in September 1984. The assassination had also intensihed factionalism within the armed forces, because many officers resented the bad repute that General Ver’s acshooting

i^For instance, see NationallPolitical

Issues, 11

as

(Manila:

NAJFD

Secretariat, 1983).

^

282

Filipino Politics

brought on the entire organization. More messages of dissatisfaction at middle levels hltered through to the opposition. Retired officers even criticized the high command openly. If major changes in the military’s role depended partly on the ability of the president to exercise political direction, then the top office deserved most attention. Next to Aquino himself, Marcos probably suffered most from the assassination. Though the popular perception of his right to rule, his legitimacy, had been eroding rapidly anyway, the events of August 1983 produced a seachange in the public’s image of both his right and his ability to govern. For one had to conclude either that the president was a murderer or that he had lost control over his own armed forces. Whichever explanation one chose, his medical condition hgured prominently. Until August 1983 many observers, including some hardbitten journalists, discounted rumors about the president’s health and proceeded with analysis on the basis of other information. But for those few persons who saw Marcos during his period of seclusion in August, the symptoms were so dramatic some feared he was on his deathbed that rumors of lupus became more credible than ever. This seclusion came only a month after Manila was abuzz with talk of miracle cures to explain how good the president looked. Unpredictable fluctuations came to be accepted as given. tivities

—

—

U.S. -Philippine Relations

Aquino’s murder also brought changes in U.S. -Philippine relations.

Both Congress and the State Department seemed much more willing to distance themselves from Marcos than when the June 1983 renewal of the Bases Agreement had been signed. Immediately after the killing the State Department called it a “cowardly and despicable act.” In Manila the U.S. ambassador attended Aquino’s funeral. A few weeks later the deputy assistant secretary of state for East Asia and the Pacific, John Monjo, testifying before a House subcommittee, went further, saying that “many Filipinos, and not all of them opposed to the current government, suspect the complicity of elements of the government in the crime.

It

raises very disturbing questions that

He concluded by

demand

answers.”^

May 1984

parliamentary election had become “more important than ever,” because “a free and fair electoral process in which Filipinos can place their confidence is the key to the resolution of the political problems left in the wake of the

Aquino

asserting that the

assassination.”

John C. Monjo, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State, Bureau of East Asian and Pacific “The Consequences of the Aquino Assassination for the Philippines and USPhilippines Relations,” statement before U.S. House, Foreign Affairs Committee, Subcommittee on Asian and Pacific Affairs, September 13, 1983. 1

*

Affairs,

Accelerated Decay

The planned

presidential

visit to

283

Manila in November became the

key indicator of any shift in U.S. policy. Despite much editorial advice in the United States to cancel, both on grounds of President Ronald

Reagan’s safety and because it would send the wrong message to the Philippine government and people, few thought the White House would change its plans. But it did. Clearly Reagan’s arrival in the Philippines would have triggered a political explosion of primary beneht to the Left, which some of his advisers sought to avoid. Therefore,

postponement helped prolong Marcos power rather than weaken it. Reagan went to great lengths to reassure Marcos that no snub was intended. Hints of divergence between White House and State Department were beginning to be noticed. The next important American policy decision came of necessity from private- and public-sector consultation on how to respond to the urgent plea from Manila for more credit. Broad American policy seemed to be reflected in a speech by Ambassador Michael Armacost to the Makati Rotary Club on November 17. While describing accelerated American assistance under existing categories to alleviate the Philippine “hnancial crisis,” Armacost also insisted that Philippine problems were “precipitated by questions concerning social and political stability” and mentioned that additional U.S. aid awaited a hnal IMF decision on credit for the Philippines.^^ The December decision of the committee this

—

of twelve leading private creditors of the Philippines to offer $1.4 billion in new funds, plus a rescheduling of old debt, implied the same two- track policy: enough aid to avoid the worst-case scenario but much less than hoped for to maintain leverage for political change. Most economists believed $3 to $4 billion in new money was needed to make

—

real

growth

possible.

The 1984 Elections In 1984 “free elections” became the overt focus of U.S. foreign policy in the Philippines and of creditors around the world worried about the

of an authoritarian regime with a sickly ruler. In a letter dated March 29, 1984, President Reagan sent Marcos a warning that “continued movement toward fully functioning democratic institutions appropriate to the Philippines is the key to the rebuilding of both economic and political conhdence.”^^ Marcos called the election for stability

May 14. The socioeconomic i2Quoted

context in which the election campaign began

in Philippines Daily Express,

November

19,

1983;

Veritas,

November 27—

Decembers, 1983. Quoted in Ross Munro, “Dateline Manila: Moscow’s Next Win?” Foreign Policy (Fall 1984), 176.

no. 56

284

Filipino Politics

was grim, contributing to unrest and reinforcing opposition appeals. Because of continuing failure to reach agreement on the terms of a new IMF loan (IMF officials themselves suggested that Marcos judged conditions to be imposed so politically unpalatable as to be best postponed private banks and other governments were until after the election), reluctant to extend new credit. Credit was not sufficient to fund imported production goods, so factories continued to close, putting people out of work more than 300,000 by best estimates. Disinvestment was a more subtle and insidious cause of unemployment. Strikes, usually over demands for payment of the minimum wage, became more frequent and more militant. Even the banking system was teetering on the edge of disaster, revealed in the Central Bank takeovers of more than a dozen shaky private banks. Reagan, the IMF, and the most militant Filipino opposition, despite their different persuasions, all agreed that the purpose of the electoral exercise was to legitimize and thus stabilize the Marcos regime. Only a segment of the moderate opposition expressed hope for a change in political leadership. This latter group had as its most prominent spokesman Salvador Laurel, president of UNIDO. UNIDO, with some regionally based political parties, especially PDP-Laban, decided to participate, even though in January they had supported a joint declaration with all other oppositionists for electoral boycott unless Marcos undertook basic reforms of the electoral system and renounced his powers of decree among other stiff conditions which he ignored. Laurel, conhdent that Marcos was under strong pressure by business, the church, and the IMF to have clean elections, said LINIDO could win. With a legislative majority, he noted, they could convene a constitutional convention to draft a new basic law, as well as elect the speaker who until 1987 would be in line for presidential succession. (He predicted his party would win 40 percent of the votes even in a

—

—

—

—

“relatively dirty” poll.)^^

The

biggest boost to the prospect of free elections was the re-

emergence of NAMFREL, hrst organized in 1951 as a national movement for free elections with CIA assistance; NAMFREL had been a major factor in creating the conditions for the election of Ramon Magsaysay as president in 1953, but it had lapsed into inactivity before the end of that decade. In 1984, with church backing, NAMFREL recruited tens of thousand of Filipinos from around the country to monitor registration and voting and to organize a vote-counting mech»4FBIS, March 14, 1984, p. 2. 15FBIS, April 30, 1984, p. 3.

Accelerated Decay

285

anism independent of the official Commission on Elections. Even its admirers admitted that it was part of a U.S. effort to force Marcos to keep the election honest. Marcos noted that NAMEREL received “private” U.S. funds; the U.S. Embassy gave open “moral” support. NAMEREL chairman Jose Concepcion, a flour-mill owner, was sufficiently uncomfortable with the frequent charge that NAMEREL was a tool of the CIA that he explicitly denied it in an open letter published throughout the Philippines shortly before the election. The boycotting opposition was not what General Ver and some foreign journalists described it to be, a “Communist-inspired movement,” though elements of the Communist party’s united front were certaily part of the effort. The Coalition of Organizations for the Restoration of Democracy (CORD), headed by Ninoy’s brother Butz Aquino, coordinated most boycott activities. Its backers included the staunch anti-Communist former President Diosdado Macapagal, former senator Raul Manglapus, temporarily resident in the United

and Liberal party president Jovito Salonga, as well as nationalist leaders Lorenzo Tanada and Jose Diokno and an array of other elite oppositionists and church leaders. Radicals characterized electoral parStates,

ticipation as “collaboration with the executioner of the Eilipino masses,”

and church workers likened compulsory voting in the May elections to the golden image that Daniel refused to worship hoping their own abstention would have less severe consequences while constitutionally minded lawyers saw participation as lending legitimacy to an illegal

—

—

regime. All agreed the Batasan was a powerless institution. Boycotting was not passive. CORD organized rallies and seminars throughout the Philippines to explain the purpose of boycott, delivering a strident anti-

Marcos and nationalist message in the process. Both boycotters and participants may have miscalculated the impact of their strategies. The former aimed to deny the legitimacy of Marcos and his institutions, but the two previous electoral exercises since 1972 revealed that a well-organized boycott campaign weakened the opposition challenge and thus reduced the government need for extensive

—

fraud in turn damping the fire of outrage in the election’s aftermath. Boycott also lowered expectations of the electoral process. In 1978, when an attempt to participate was the dominant opposition response, Marcos’s manufacture of returns eroded his own legitimacy more rapidly than in 1981 when he ran for reelection practically unopposed because of a widely supported boycott. Outrage was subdued after a *®See Munro, p. 176. 17FBIS, May 10, 1984,

p. 3.

— 286

Filipino Politics

fraud long anticipated.

On

the other hand, the goal of a parliamentary

which UNIDO posited to justify participation, was wildly unrealistic. Marcos made it clear that he thought he would gain legitimation in an election so “free” as to allow the opposition twenty seats, or 10 percent of the Batasan. Thus he could be expected to use fraud, coercion, money, and pure concoction against the threat of much majority,

greater opposition success

—a reaction not unknown

in other autocra-

manipulate elections. NAMFREL watchers on election day were driven away from the polls at many locations so that ballot-box stuffing could proceed apace; multiple voting was rampant. But the biggest government gains involved simply the “cooking” of returns.^® On May 16 Marcos told U.S. television audiences that he expected the KBL to win about 140 seats. About the same time NAMFREL which relied on official precinctlevel tabulations was reporting independents and opposition parties ahead in 94 races and KBL in 89.^^ By the time the reports emanated from the Commission on Elections, opposition and independent seats (some of which actually turned out to be pro-KBL) were down to 73, with 110 for the KBL.^i Within about ten days the opposition and independents had lost twenty-one seats as the count “progressed”; and the KBL moved from minority to majority. Some late returns were from villages or districts where the KBL vote was greater than the total population. In Cebu the switch was particularly dramatic; whereas the NAMFREL tally gave hve out of six seats to the opposition, the COMELEC proclaimed only one opposition candidate elected. As the citizens of Cebu learned of this result, they protested. The police were jittery and began bring on the crowd: four persons died and eighteen cies that tried to

—

—

were injured. Nevertheless, the U.S. Embassy had already labeled the exercise “an

amazing example of democracy and participation of the people. On May 18 the Wall Street Journal had jumped to conclude editorially before protesters were gunned down in Cebu that the elections “moved the Philippines closer to democracy, and that should please all

—

of us.” Accentuation of the positive was continued by Cardinal Sin,

“The Impact and Meaning of Elections in Authoritarian Guy Hermet, Richard Rose, and Alain Rouquie, Elections without

^^Cf. Philippe Schmitter,

Portugal, 1933—74,” in Choice

.

.

.

(New York:

19FBIS, 20FBIS, 21FBIS, 22FBIS,

May May May May

23Quoted

who

Wiley, 1978), pp. 145-68. 15, 1984, p. 33.

23, 1984, p. 5. 29, 1984, p. 16. 21, 1984, p. 2;

in Solidaridad II,

May

23, 1984, p. 6;

April-June 1984,

June

p. 10.

12, 1984, p. 6.

Accelerated Decay

May

called the

1972”

—in

The

14 poll “by

and

large, the

.

.

287

freest, cleanest since

.

itself faint praise.

had not proceeded as the participant opposition had hoped, but they were more pleasantly surprised than the boycotters, for turnout had been high. Laurel had gained in political strength. The boycott had failed, in part because the message of the boycott movement, as some activists themselves pointed out,^^ was too complex for the average citizen compared to the “simple” choice of voting for the good guy instead of the bad, that is, against the regime. Furthermore, some middle-class citizens may have been scared off by the “red” charges against the boycott movement. The KBL was also spending a great deal of money; best estimates are that P4.6 billion of new currency was printed for the occasion about one-tenth of all government tax revenue in 1983. (The IMF was understandably disturbed.) Even in Manila cold cash was handed out at KBL rallies. The willingness to election

—

offer short-term loyalty for material favors, especially in a time of great

hardship, was a traditional habit hard to break.

The immediate hnan-

—

rewards also helped explain the multiplicity of candidates nearly ten aspirants for every KBL nomination. UNIDO, as well as KBL, candidates included sons and other relatives of powerful patrons of an earlier era. President Marcos had announced himself as generally opposed to “political dynasties,” but in one race he wrote personal letters to get competing candidates to withdraw, thus assuring election of his daughter Imee from Ilocos Norte. Though the election did give President Marcos a bit of the international legitimation he so desperately needed, it did nothing to strengthen the decaying regime at home. In the face of precipitate economic decline 4 percent negative growth of GNP in 1985 followed a 6 percent drop in the previous year and his own health problems, the president’s efforts to hold together a crumbling autocracy, while his foreign backers escalated their demands for reform, became ever more cial

—

—

Meanwhile the revolutionary movement increased its threat to the whole political-economic system. The reformist opposition stumbled from one failed coalition to another, despite increasing sympathy abroad, until they faced the supreme challenge in December 1985.

difficult.

24 Quoted in FBIS, June 1, 1984. 25 See Alex Magno, “The Boycott

WHO, June

Movement: Did

1984. Eastern Economic Review, August 30, 1984, 27FBIS, May 30, 1984, p. 1.

It

Fizzle

6,

p.

24.

Out

in the

May

14 Polls?”

288

Filipino Politics

Economic

Crisis

A

major consequence of the May elections, and the massive increase in the money supply to hnance them, was of course inflation, reaching an annual rate of more than 60 percent before the end of the year. To bring down inflation, interest rates were hiked sometimes exceeding 40 percent even for corporate borrowers which in turn fueled more plant closures and unemployment. The gap between official views of the economy and reality in the countryside was particularly evident in February, when the minister of agriculture and food said, “At no time has agriculture evoked so much hope as it has today.”^^ In fact, all three major crops (rice, coconut, and sugar) faced unprecedented difficulty. Though the Philippines had become self-sufficient in rice in the mid-1970s, as a consequence of the Green Revolution, by 1984 it was spending increasingly scarce foreign exchange on imports. The subsidized credit program of the early 1970s, Masagana 99, had practically disappeared, while oil prices and devaluation of the peso had pushed up the cost of fertilizers. In February scores of busloads of rice-growing

—

peasants from Central

Food

Luzon arrived

at

to protest fertilizer prices; several

—

and

the Ministry of Agriculture

hundred remained

for a “live-

in picket” that lasted for days.

The

two main export crops, coconuts and sugar, was worse. The volume of coconut production had been declining since the 1970s; export volume declined 38 percent in 1984, even though a rise in world prices permitted a slight increase in earnings. In 1985 export values declined nearly 40 percent. Softening world prices added to the impact of drought and typhoons left most small farmers without any net income. Sugar in 1984 saw both production and prices drop, resulting in a 17 percent decline in earnings. In 1985 prices were at a fifteen-year low less than a quarter of the cost of production so more and more planters did not plant. Production dropped another third. Big planters, who complained most vociferously, may have been forced to sell a Mercedes-Benz or a second home, but hundreds of thousands of plantation workers faced the specter of starvation. And in Negros Occidental, the biggest sugar-producing province, a social survey had shown that in 1979 more than 80 percent of the population had already been living in extreme poverty. Some owners allowed laborers to raise food crops on unplanted sugar land; others resisted such an arrangement, fearing they would never get their land back; situation for the

—

‘^^Quoted \n Bulletin Today, February 19, 1985. '^^Business Day, January 29, 1985. ^^See Alfred McCoy, Priests on Trial (Melbourne: Penguin, 1984),

—

p.

108.

Accelerated Decay

289

and some workers occupied and planted unused sugar land even without owners’ permission. Some larger planters were organizing private armies, and NPA recruitment was booming.

Illness

and

These

the Succession Struggle

agricultural facts of

life

scarcely disturbed elite

maneuvers

in

Rumors about the president’s health initiated most conversations, especially when he disappeared from view for more than three weeks in late November and December the air-conditioned parlors of Manila.

1984; Wall Street was even swept by a report that he had died. Mal-

acahang spokesmen denied that Marcos had either a heart or a kidney transplant, but they did admit that the president was living in a “new germ free wing” of the Palace. (Lupus sufferers are especially susceptible to infection.) The matter was so sensitive that a palace physician who leaked to the press that there had been a kidney transplant was found murdered shortly thereafter.^ The president had ended speculation about his health in 1984 when he met with the cabinet in front of the TV cameras; but he failed to appear, without explanation, to open the January 1985 session of the Batasan. On bad days insiders reported that Marcos was not “in charge.” Most observers believed that either General Ver or Imelda Marcos was in control on such occasions, and there was talk of forming a “working secretariat” of senior military officers if the president should go abroad for medical treatment. Perhaps the best indicator of elite perceptions of the president’s condition was the increasing openness of the succession struggle and the attempts of some with ambition to distance themselves from the Marcos family. At cabinet meeting and KBL caucus in January both Minister of Labor Bias Ople and Minister of Defense Juan Ponce-Enrile criticized the president; Enrile was, in turn, sharply attacked by Imelda. By March, Minister of Foreign Affairs Arturo Tolentino had been bred, after publicly suggesting policy changes that the president did ^

not favor.

But the key hgure

determining the succession was widely believed to be General Ver, who was under a cloud because of the investigation of the Aquino assassination. Despite an initial lack of credibility, the Agrava Board as it proceeded to investigation showed genuine signs of independence. Evidence piled up linking the military to the assassinain

Far Eastern Economic Review, December 5, 1985, p. 11. Asiaweek, January 25, 1985, pp. 27—29; Newsweek (Asia 31

ed.),

March

25, 1985 pp.

30—

290

Filipino Politics

By October 1984 there was leaked to the press a preliminary draft of the board report and a staff memorandum, clearly to pressure Marcos. Both documents concluded that the military were responsible and named nearly twenty conspirators. However, although four of the hve board members wanted to name General Ver himself. Chairman Corazon Agrava was reported as unwilling to place blame higher than tion plot.

the airport security chief.^^

When

the board’s hndings were hnally

released, their content was consistent with earlier leaks. Ver submitted a

request for leave of absence as chief of staff, and in his reply Marcos, attacking the Board’s credibility, expressed conhdence that Ver’s dis-

tinguished record would be “preserved.” In an unprecedented manifesto, 68 of the 83 general officers declared their “unfailing loyalty and

support” for Ver. All service chiefs and regional commanders were loyal to Ver, who in any case remained in active control of the Presidential Security Command and the National Intelligence and Security Authority.^^ Ver also retained crucial influence on key assignments. Though General Ramos was appointed acting chief of staff, his powers were limited. Clear messages from Washington that Ramos should be given a permanent, not just an acting, appointment were ignored. It was a surprise to many that a formal indictment was brought against Ver on January 23, as an “accessory to murder. The charge, according to most observers, would make it difficult for Ver ever to resume full command of the military. Within weeks, however, Marcos announced that, if acquitted, Ver would be reinstated. The United States, fearful of his role in an extralegal succession, perhaps in alliance with Imelda, was not reserved in its opposition to him. The obvious

need for military assistance made many Filipino officers take notice, and Americans as well as Filipinos experienced increasing anxiety over the rising star of Maj. Gen. Josephus Ramas, army commander, who was even closer than General Ver to the First Lady. The struggle between Ramos and Ver, and their powerful backers, for control of the military took on a new dimension in March 1985 when a reformist group among younger officers surfaced in a public demonstration at the graduation ceremony of the Philippine Military Academy, attended by the president. The Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM) was headed by a few colonels and a navy captain close to Minister Enrile and was estimated to have more than a thousand supporters, or nearly 10 percent of the officer corps. Its an-

^^Japan Times, October 14, 15, 1984. 34/^ar Eastern Economic Review, November 8, 1984, pp. 14-15; Newsweek (Asia November 5, 1984, pp. 8-12. Far Eastern Economic Review, February 7, 1985, pp. 14—15.

ed.),

Accelerated Decay

nounced goal was

291

and fair-minded armed forces in the service of country and people,” weeding out corruption while improving training and moral. But supporters soon began to tell journalists that they would also be willing to try to stop a coup if headed by Ver or Ramas.^® The U.S. Embassy let its high regard for RAM be known, and only later was it revealed that RAM officers had been in touch with embassy staff for two or three years. RAM was clearly a mechanism to strengthen the hand of Ramos, Enrile, and the United States against the long-standing military patronage network headed by Ver and Marcos. As the reformists were almost all PMA graduates, it sharpened an old factional rivalry in the military, but it also brought the succession struggle to a new level of intensity. While Marcos had lost the Agrava Board report and the decision on the indictment in part to build “an effective

—

—

because of the strength of U.S. pressures he could not afford to lose the hnal round. The judges were his recent appointees. Negotiations with the IME were not easy to get back on track after the election, because of distrust stemming from the $600 million overstatement of reserves earlier in the year and the printing of billions in new money during the campaign, contrary to IMF guidelines. Another 22 percent devaluation of the peso in July was insufficient. The international watchdogs were also intent on curbing monopolies in sugar and coconut, which touched at the center of the regime’s power structure. U.S. displeasure with lack of progress was so great that it voted against a World Bank agricultural loan for the Philippines even after Prime Minister Virata signed and sent to the IMF a “letter of intent” at the beginning of September 1984 to undertake such reforms.^® Even then the IMF took months to release the $613.5 million in special drawing rights, triggering private banks’ agreement to debt restructuring. IMF-requested “reforms,” such as new excise taxes, stimulated mass unrest including a Manila-wide one-day jeepney strike but they also aggravated intraelite conflict. Some leading figures in the KBL, anxious about the regime’s future, were becoming more attentive to the complaints of business leaders who attacked both the technocrats

—

—

under Virata for their “subservience” to IMF demands for austerity and the Marcos “cronies.” The cronies, especially Benedicto and Cojuangco, had themselves long been unhappy with Virata, an attitude that worsened with IMF pressure to dismantle the monopolies. A motion of no-confidence in the prime minister though unsuc-

—

^®See Rodney Tasker, “The Hidden Hand,” Far Eastern Economic Review, August 1985, pp. 10-12.

— H,” New

Robert Shaplen, “From Marcos to Aquino

Yorker,

September

1,

1986,

1,

p.

46.

^^Nayan Chanda, “Vote of No Conhdence,” Far 13, 1984, p. 16.

Eastern Economic Review,

September

292

Filipino Politics

cessful

—triggered Batasan debate

in

which few

KBL members came

to

his defense.

Despite widespread antipathy to some of the IMF conditions, most planters applauded international pressure for the dissolution of the

sugar and coconut monopolies. Official pronouncements indicating such a dissolution for sugar in -1984 and for coconuts in January 1985 were nevertheless greeted with skepticism; the monopolies had benehted from earlier high returns, and free trading appeared to be a boon granted only when world prices were at rock bottom. Skepticism deepened when it was discovered that free trading in sugar would be available only to those able to forego credit from the Philippine National Bank. And any independent trader in coconut was required to take over some onerous obligations of the earlier monopoly. One leading coconut planter complained, “Reforms were instituted, presumably but the industry remains as to pay lip service to IMF demands.

—

—

.

.

,

by government rules and regulations as before. Those who imposed the new regulations were still the proteges of the previous monopolists, Benedicto and Cojuangco. The experience graphically illustrated the inability of the regime to reform itself. tightly controlled

The Revolutionary Threat

The spread

of poverty in sugar and coconut areas was increasingly linked with exploitation by the cronies, in the minds of middle-class planters and of held workers, so the unrest that the impoverishment produced was easily directed against Marcos. Unrest was growing in rice-producing areas as well. For U.S. observers, most notably the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral William Crowe, the NPA by 1984 had graduated from mere irritant to serious threat. In 1985 Minister Enrile admitted that the insurgents had been expanding by more than 20 percent per year for some time. The Pentagon put New People’s Army forces at 15,000 in March, the highest hgure yet. When Assistant Secretary of Defense Richard Armitage spoke of Communists coming to power within the decade “if present trends continue,” he may have been exaggerating to pressure Marcos for reform, but the statement accorded with the new optimism of the revolutionary move-

ment

itself.

Said the

Communist

party organ

Ang Bayan

in late 1984,

“Because of important developments over the past year, the revolutionary situation is offering clear possibilities for the more speedy overthrow of the fascist dictatorship.”^^ Quoted

January 28, February 14, 1985. Ang Bayan, September 1984 (English ed.), p. 5. in Business Day,

Accelerated Decay

293

Despite the CPP’s respect for the herce nationalism of Kampucheans struggling against Vietnam, and the Philippine military’s showing of

The Killing Fields as part of the psywar campaign in Mindanao, it would have been far off the mark to compare the Philippine revolutionary struggle to that of the Khmer. But that is exactly what the TIME correspondent writing in Commentary tried to do in 1985,^^ apparently to shock American decision makers. In sharp contrast to the Khmer, the NPA was usually so well disciplined and so respectful of peasants as to have a local reputation resembling Robin Hood’s, though by 1985 church people were occasionally reporting violence against innocent civilians.

Despite these unfortunate incidents, the major

munist

new

thrust in

Com-

was peaceful political mobilization of segments of the upper and middle class as well as of the masses. Said Ang Bayan, “We must make full use of the excellent conditions for winning over the national bourgeoisie to the side of the revolutionary struggle. To

make

it

activity

easier to act

on

this

exhortation the

NDF

further revised

its

economic program to recognize the private sector, alongside the cooperative and the state, as one of three major sectors of the economy, promising that “legally and justly acquired property shall not be conhscated.”^^

Among

many sectoral groups organized after 1983 with some degree of CPP involvement were the Kilusan ng Magbubukid sa Pilipinas (Peasant Movement of the Philippines) and Katipunan ng mga Gurong Makabayan (Association of Nationalist Teachers). Most ambitious of all was the formation in May 1985 of Bagong Alyansang Makabayan (BAYAN) or New Nationalist Alliance, which quietly subsumed the Nationalist Alliance, itself less than two years old. Former the

Senator Tahada was president of both. Cynics described BAYAN as a front of a front (NA) of a front (NDF). In fact, it was the most ambitious effort yet undertaken by the Philippine Left to organize a broad coalition. Nicaragua seemed to be the model; some observation tours to Managua, it was rumored, had preceded its formation. Butz Aquino, Jose Diokno, and Jaime Ongpin, none of whom had been associated with the old Nationalist Alliance, appeared as delegates at the founding meeting, indicating that the ideological spectrum was indeed wide. When it came time to elect the national executive committee, however, NDF members in the secretariat tried to arrange for the

'^iRoss

Munro, “The New Khmer Rouge,” Commentary 80 (December

Ang Bayan, January 43

1985,

1985), 19—31.

p. 6.

“The Major Economic NDF], August 1984, pp. 14—17.

Policies

of the NDF,” Liberation

[official

publication of the

294

Filipino Politics

nomination of many persons

NDF

— probably a majority — susceptible to

The

leading moderates objected unsuccessfully; Ongpin, Diokno, and Butz Aquino withdrew along with a pre-martial law president of the Philippine Chamber of Commerce, Teofisto Guingona, shattering the image of a broad coalition in Manila, though many middle-of-the-road groups and individuals remained in the provincial branches. A slight increase in breadth of NDF influence may have been accomplished, but there was some internal party criticism about the techniques used. At the same time the party was developing strength in depth. By 1985 CPP membership was estimated at 20,000, having doubled in five years. This rate of increase itself caused problems; shortening the period of candidate membership increased opportunities for infiltration by military intelligence. Expansion of membership and insurgent activity was possible only because the party recognized the fragmented geography of the country, following a strategy of centralized planning but decentralized operations. Under the CPP central committee were five territorial areas and sixteen regions, each with its own party organization. The regions were given autonomy on military tactics as well as on their attitude toward the electoral process. Already in May 1984 there were differences, and problems, but a certain amount of decentralization was recognized as a necessity. Ideological independence from both China and the Soviet Union was also sustained, helping protect the party’s nationalist image. It too had its concomitant problem, however, reducing the prospects for foreign assistance. By 1985 the recruitment of fighting men had outpaced the accumulation of materiel through purchase or capture. But Minister of Defense Enrile still denied that any foreign government was providing the NPA with arms. Probably the most difficult task for the revolutionaries was to maintain the dual track of armed and parliamentary struggle. In the countryside insurgency both fulfilled an ideological commitment and responded to the demands of many peasants for protection from military and landlord abuses. But for middle-class urban oppositionists whom the party was also trying to attract, armed struggle was vaguely threatening and for those from landlord families the threat was more direct. Even many lawyers and businessmen who cooperated with the NDE in the anti-Marcos movement were uneasy. Each strategy had its own dynamic, the first calling for a wider definition of the enemy than the second. As rumors of a “snap election” grew stronger in late 1985, the conflict in logic between total confrontation and partial cooperation with the “U.S. -Marcos dictatorship” grew stronger. influence.

—

Far Eastern Economic Review,

November

21, 1985, p. 53.

J

Accelerated Decay

An

Election

The

295

Coming

reformist or moderate opposition was excited about the pros-

pect of an early presidential election, but

some

still

believed

it

would

not happen. If the president contemplated standing as a candidate for reelection, as he said he did, he had only two legal options. As his

Marcos could either amend the constitution to shorten the term or resign. It was an impossible choice: in the May 1984 election the opposition had gained enough seats to make it difficult to push a constitutional amendment through the Batasan, and even a resignation would increase the risks for a leader trying to cling to power. (The speaker of the Batasan would succeed; Nicanor Yniguez seemed tame enough, but could he be counted on?) Nevertheless, the president had important political motivations for early elections. If he waited until 1987, not only would his health be more problematical but so would his electoral prospects. He had done more poorly than expected in May 1984; the trend was against him. His strategy depended, moreover, on KBL local officials to deliver the vote. The next local elections wre scheduled for May 1986, before the regular presidential poll; if he lost ground them, the presidential sweepstakes would be in doubt. The NDF had already declared it would participate in the local elections, so Marcos would not have had the beneht of a boycott. American pressure was apparently pushing Marcos toward early elections as well, primarily for the purpose of a stable succession; otherwise there would be no vice-president until 1987, and worries about the president’s health had been escalating since November 1984. Some American officials also imagined that a relatively free election won by the president would bolster his legitimacy. Very few saw any prospect of an opposition victory and a consti-

constitutional

term lasted

until 1987,

tutional transition.^®

In August 1985, for the hrst time, Marcos admitted to the KBL caucus the possibility of an early election. But he did not announce his

hnal decision until early November, on a live U.S. television interview (symbolizing that he was playing to a foreign audience but probably reflecting as well a ploy to evade his advisers, who were strongly opposed). He tried to finesse the legal dilemma by announcing his resignation as of the date of the inauguration of the winning candidate, but the opposition immediately, challenged the plan in the Supreme Court. Many believed that Marcos would use the Supreme Court as a

45

See Francisco Magno, “The

Political

Dynamics of People Power,” Kasarinlan,

(1986), 15. 46 Guy Sacerdoti, “Stonewall Marcos,” Far Eastern Economic Review,

pp. 8—9,

and Sacerdoti, “Keeping the Imbalance,”

ibid.,

November

August

1:4

15, 1985,

14, 1985, pp. 12-13.

— 1

296

Filipino Politics

way out of an embarrassment should the opposition achieve what few thought possible in November: agreement on a single candidate. A “Convenor Group” of eminent noncandidates composed of the senior nationalist, Tahada, Corazon Aquino, and Jaime Ongpin, representing business had been formed to hnd a procedure for selecting a consensus opposition presidential candidate. But UNIDO president

—

—

Salvador Laurel, unable to conceal his own ambitions, refused to accept minus many of its most prominent their proposal. Instead UNIDO members proceeded to hold their own nominating convention for Laurel. Laurel’s group, which dominated the opposition in the Batasan, was composed mostly of the remnants of pre-Marcos patronage politicians, whereas the Convenor Group, most of whom had boycotted in May 1984, was closer to the cause-oriented mass movement largely spawned by the NDF and Catholic activists but also included the Salonga wing of the old Liberal party. Already there was talk of Cory Aquino herself becoming a candidate, an idea promoted especially by Cardinal Sin and his friends, with clear American approval. If she did not run, Jovita Salonga was expected to provide Laurel’s most prominent competition. In that case, Marcos could probably have won with no more fraud than in May 1984.^^ Salonga, though a widely respected lawyer with a progressive policy position, was still a pre-martial law politician unknown to most younger voters, and he lacked either charisma or Laurel’s machine. Finally in December, on the eve of the deadline for filing candidacies, an improbable opposition unity was achieved. Aquino had said she would not run unless a million Filipinos signed a petition asking her to do so; this was accomplished on December 1. The next day the court trying General Ver and others for the murder of Ninoy issued its verdict. It not only acquitted all the accused but tore up the Agrava report, resurrecting the original military version of events that Rolando Galman shot Aquino on the orders of the Communists and then was gunned down by the guards. The reaction was national

—

—

Guy Sacerdoti, “Immoderate Alternative,” Far Eastern Economic Review, November 28, 1985, pp. 12—13. ^^See Philippine Social Science Council, Report on the National Opinion Survey of September 1985 (Quezon City; PSSC, 14 December 1985), Tables A8 and A9. In this most sophisticated of political opinion surveys in recent years, Marcos won 37.5 percent to 19. percent in a two-way race with Laurel, and 37.2 percent to 16.5 percent in a race with Salonga. But on both questions the no response rate was very high, around 40 percent, probably indicating fear of disclosure as well as real lack of preference. 49 Guy Sacerdoti, “Tearing up Agrava,” Far Eastern Economic Review, December 12, 1985, pp. 13 -14.

Accelerated Decay

297

outrage, not least from the

widow of the victim. She was also persuaded by Cardinal Sin, who had done his own surveys, that she was the only person who could beat Marcos, an outcome she devoutly desired. She hnally decided to take up Ninoy’s crusade, not for vengeance, she said quietly, but for justice. She explained in an interview, “It would really bother me if things turn out for the worst and I would always ask have made a difference. “Doy” Laurel was initially persuaded to take second place on an Aquino ticket, but the agreement fell apart because Laurel insisted that Aquino run under the UNIDO banner. She preferred to be the standard bearer of a grand coalition. Finally, just hours after Marcos had been formally nominated by the KBL and with forceful intervention by Cardinal Sin, Doy again accepted the vice-presidential nomination and helped register the Aquino-Laurel ticket. The timing was adroit: it was too late for Marcos to cancel the election without looking as if he were running away from a hght with a “housewife,” which his macho self-image would not permit. Yet in ill health he faced the most difficult political contest of his life. His choice of Arturo Tolentino, sacked as foreign minister only months earlier for criticizing the president in public, as his running mate was a move for support of a popular Manila politician, the only KBL candidate to win in Metro Manila in 1984. (Tolentino was also the only KBL assemblyman to vote against the very election law under which he was running for being unconstitutional. A seasoned politician, he ignored the inconsistency.) Catering to foreign perceptions was probably also important in the president’s choice. Certainly Tolentino had blocked Imelda Marcos’s ambitions, at least temporarily. The election law had a curious provision that allowed last-minute substitutions, however, which prompted numerous speculations involving Laurel as well as myself, could

I

—

Imelda.

The Snap Election

The

brief

campaign for the February

7 election did not

proceed

at

generated more excitment, more fraud, and more selfless commitment to democracy than any election in Philippine history. Some compared it to the 1953 campaign, because of the prominence of a charismatic figure, but there were two basic differences. First, many more people were politically mobilized in 1986, as

full

speed until after Christmas.

^OQuoted

in

It

Far Eastern Economic Review, December

19, 1985, p. 41.

298

Filipino Politics

revealed in the rising strength of the Communist Party and the nearly to 500,000 who volunteered for hazardous duty with

NAMFREL

Second, however, the incumbent was much more tenacious in clinging to power, and more ruthless in his methods. The threat of the Left was minimized by the decision of the NDF, the

guard the polling

labor federation

places.

KMU, and BAYAN

However, and a single

to boycott the election.

conditions differed from 1984; real power was at stake,

had emerged. Boycott was unpopular. chapters of BAYAN campaigned for Aquino. Former

attractive opposition candidate

Even some

local

senator Tahada, the president of

BAYAN,

took leave of absence to join

Aquino campaign. The nonparty Left, including both Marxists and Christian socialists, coalesced under the Nationalist Bloc umbrella to support Cory.^^ The Salonga Liberals, who had also boycotted in 1984, were at the core of the Aquino organization. Corazon Aquino, who called for a cease-hre with the NPA and the legalization of the Communist party if it were to become nonviolent, was viciously attacked as “Communist” by an ailing Marcos, who frequently had to be carried to the speaker’s platform by his security men and had difficulty with bladder control. Though the attacks, reinforced by libelous TV ads, were surprisingly successful, causing Cory to toughen her stance on communism, her simple sincerity appealed to the crowds; “only a housewife” became a virtue, for she was unsullied by previous involvement in political wars. Meanwhile Marcos spent billions of pesos raising government salaries, launching construction projects, and just buying votes. The campaign climax was an Aquino rally in Manila which drew over one million people, an unprecedented the

gathering. Election fever was also manifest in the volunteers

who turned out

for

NAMFREL,

even more than in 1984. American backing for NAMFREL had not diminished. Open funding came from the congressionally supported National Endowment for Democracy, channeled through the AFL-CIO Free Trade Union Institute and the anticommunist Trade Union Congress of the Philippines, as well as from the Asia Foundation; AID gave $300,000 through NAMFREL affiliates. But recognition of NAMFREL’s essential function if Marcos

^^See Eduardo Tadem, “Lessons for the Philippine Left,” Kasarinlan, 1:4 (1986), 29— 49.

See Carl Gershman [president, NED], “Fostering Democracy Abroad: The Role of the National Endowment for Democracy,” address to conference sponsored by Yale Center for International and Area Studies, New Haven, October 18, 1986, pp. 12ff, and Raymond Bonner, Waltzing with a Dictator: The Marcoses and the Making of American Policy (New York: Random House, 1987), p. 408. 52

Accelerated Decay

299

were to be voted out caused much less nationalist criticism of the American connection. The Marcos press made more attacks on its partisanship, however. (NAMFREL president Jose Concepcion did become an Aquino cabinet member.) NAMFREL received strong backing from the Catholic Church. On January 18 Cardinal Sin issued a pastoral letter

condemning

the evidence of pre-election fraud already

appearing, advising voters that the acceptance of money did not create any obligation to vote for a particular candidate, and warning candidates that if any won by cheating “he can only be forgiven by God if he renounces the office he has obtained by fraud. NAMFREL had secured an agreement by which its watchers had access to all polling places and the right to receive copies of the tally from each one, but its task on election day was more difficult and dangerous than ever before. Obviously Marcos was frightened by Cory’s crowds and the last-minute polls that said she could win. (Some KBL governors and mayors had already defected.) So he decided to spare no effort to secure “victory,” as knowledgeable observers had said he would. Some Marcos goons drove NAMEREL poll watchers away early in the day. Some NAMEREL watchers chained themselves to the ballot box to prevent it from being snatched and “stuffed.” Elsewhere snatchers were successful. Millions of pro-Aquino voters, it was estimated, were disenfranchised by removal from voter’s lists and by violent threats on election day. Despite scores of official observers from the United States and elsewhere, and hundreds of foreign newsmen, some of the most blatant fraud on election day was committed in wellwatched Metro Manila, indicating how desperate the KBL was. Foreign observers reported what they saw, which was important for the ultimate outcome, but very few understood the history of Philippine elections. To be sure, the KBL tricks had long been in the reper-

had not affected 1950s and 1960s their

tory of Filipino politicians, but except for 1949 they

the outcome of national elections, and by the late

incidence had been reduced to a minimum. Foreign journalists usually confused the record of post- 1972 sham elections with the much longer Philippine electoral tradition, which they frequently maligned. That

—

—

no worse and often better than that at a comparable stage of democratic development in the United States or tradition exhibited behavior

Britain.

As expected, official Commission on Elections returns were very slow coming in: more than twenty-four hours after the polls had closed, COMELEC headquarters had tallied only 1.7 million votes, while ^^Quoted

in Far Eastern

Economic Review, January 30, 1986,

p. 12.

— 300

Filipino Politics

NAMFREL

was reporting results for more than one-third of the precincts, with 7.7 million votes. NAMFREL announced Aquino ahead with 55.5 percent of the votes, and even COMELEC admitted she had 50.02 percent. Urban areas, more likely to be oppositionist, had reported hrst.^^ As the discrepancy between COMELEC (which reported more precincts from pro-Marcos provinces) and NAMFREL tabulations increased on the second day of counting, Marcos was severely embarrassed by the walkout of nearly forty COMELEC computer technicians protesting instructions they said they received to “cook” the

By the time NAMFREL was reporting returns from 57 percent of precincts, Aquino had a lead of over 650,000, while COMELEC, reporting from 48 percent, gave Marcos a lead of more than 500,000. The KBL-dominated Batasan, which had the constitutional returns.

right to declare the winner, completed

its

own

14 and officially declared the winner, giving

tabulation by February

Aquino

9.3 million votes

and Marcos 10.8 million. (A CIA estimate was leaked to the press which claimed Cory should have had 58 percent of the votes). A University of the Philippines math professor, analyzing internal inconwhich gave a 7 percent lead to Marcos sistencies in the Batasan tally concluded that Aquino should have won by nearly 8 percent. He hastened to note, however, that many types of fraud were not covered by his analysis.^® It seems likely that Marcos stole two to three million votes at some stage of the process. CIA estimates may have been close to

—

the true picture.

Understandably, therefore, neither candidate Aquino nor her church supporters were willing to accept the official verdict. In fact, on the day that Marcos was officially declared winner the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines stated that “a government that assumes or retains power through fraudulent means has no moral basis.” Bishop Francisco Claver clarihed: “The church will not recognize President Marcos. On February 16 Aquino appear,ed before a Manila crowd of more than half a million to proclaim her own victory and to announce a nationwide campaign of civil disobedience until Marcos also recognized her claim to the presidency. She called for a boycott of Marcos-controlled newspapers, government and crony-owned banks, and the San Miguel commercial empire dominated by Eduardo Co^'^See Sunday Times, February 9, 1986.

^^Guy

Sacerdoti, “Standing Polls Apart,” Far Eastern Economic Review, February 20,

1986, pp. 10-16.

Romeo Manlapaz, Tallies

The Mathematics of Deception: A Study of the 1 986 Presidential Election (Quezon City: Third World Studies Center, University of the Philippines, Febru-

ary 1986).

Quoted

in

Far Eastern Economic Review, February 27, 1986,

p.

1

1.

Accelerated Decay

juangco.

301

Some

leading businessmen committed themselves to tax refusal. This was all to lead to a general strike on February 26,

enthusiastically

supported by

KMU. (Some among

leftist

boycotters

were beginning to recognize the magnitude of their tactical error and tried to climb on the Aquino bandwagon.) The Catholic bishops also endorsed “active resistance of evil by peaceful means.” Catholics and Protestants had been preparing for this moment since 1984, when European and American specialists on nonviolent action had conducted a series of training workshops. Hildegard Goss-Mayr was invited back in early February and met privately with Mrs. Aquino and Cardinal Sin to plan nonviolent strategies for various contingencies. Said Goss-Mayr, “The scenario of which everybody was most afraid was that the

The

army would

split.”^®

U.S. response to the election was complex. Despite a stream of

reports about Marcos’s election fraud from both official and unofficial

American observers. President Reagan a few days after the polling said that fraud had been committed “by both sides” and urged Aquino to cooperate with Marcos “to make sure the government works.” Mrs. Aquino herself responded with cold fury: “I would wonder at the motives of a friend of democracy who chose to conspire with Mr. Marcos to cheat the Filipino people of their liberation. Some thought Reagan’s remark simply expressed personal friendship as it later turned out, friend Marcos had made contributions to the 1980 Reagan campaign. But it was White House policy endorsed by both chief of staff Donald Regan and national security adviser John Poindexter, who believed that Marcos remained crucial to American influence

—

in the Philippines.®®

Philippines

and

The

negative reaction to this position, in the

and around the world, even within the Republican party

Department, was so great that the U.S. president shifted ground. The day after the official proclamation in Manila, February 15, a White House statement declared that “the elections were marred by widespread fraud and violence perpetrated largely by the ruling party, ... so extreme that the election’s credibility has been called into question.”®^ Philip Habib was sent as a special envoy to Manila, on the recommendation of Secretary of State George Shultz, and helped persuade Reagan that Marcos had to go. especially in the U.S. State

Peggy Rosenthal, “Nonviolence in the Philippines: The Precarious Road,” Commonweal, June 20, 1986, p. 366. See also Richard Beats, “The Revolution That Surprised the World,” Fellowship, July-August 1986, pp. 3-4. Quoted m Shaplen, “From Marcos to Aquino 11,” p. 37. Newsweek, February 24, 1986, p. 18. Quoted in Nayan Chanda, “US Rethinks and Agrees Marcos Should Step Down,” Far Eastern Economic Review, February 27, 1986, p. 12.

Quoted

in

—

302

Filipino Politics

Military Revolt with '‘People Power”

Regardless of U.S. indecision, events in Manila moved rapidly, perhaps spurred by the prospect of a general strike on February 26 with

February 21, RAM officers, together with Defense Minister Enrile, devised a plot to seize Malacahang Palace and establish a military junta on the 23d, revising a plan earlier set for January. The plot was discovered by General Ver and, fearing arrest, the plotters persuaded General Ramos to join them in an act of rebellion. After telephone calls to Cardinal Sin, so that he could generate support, and to the American and Japanese ambassadors, Enrile and Ramos held a press conference at Ministry of Defense headquarters in Camp Aguinaldo, broadcast live on Radio Veritas, the Catholic station. They told the Filipino people that “we can no longer support Marcos as our Mrs. Aquino was duly elected PresiCommander-in-Chief because dent of the Philippines.” (Enrile had apparently abandoned his plans for a military junta. Ironically, Cory Aquino, deeply suspicious of the defense minister and aware of his plans, was on the way to Davao City in Mindanao where her supporters were planning to establish a provileftist

backing.

On

.

sional revolutionary

.

government

.

in exile.

By 9 PM Cardinal Sin was himself on the radio, appealing to the people to go to Camp Aguinaldo and nearby Camp Crame to lend support to the rebels and take them food. The appeal, rebroadcast frequently over Radio Veritas which had recently received Asia Foundation help to upgrade its equipment soon brought hundreds of Aquino followers bearing food. Marcos troops destroyed the main Veritas transmitter overnight, and threats of further violence closed the station. But a Veritas announcer using another transmitter continued to play a crucial role as prime communicator for the “Revolution” until rebel forces captured a nearby government TV station. By daybreak tens of thousands of people surrounded the camps: upper-class, middle-class, working-class, young and old, organized and unorganized, some in wheelchairs, families, youth groups with political banners, seminarians and nuns, and lay groups with religious images brought from churches. The night had been peaceful because Marcos and Ver were not clear as to which forces were loyal. Enrile was thus able to come to an agreement with Ver for a twenty-four-hour ceasehre, a crucial advantage for the rebels. Meanwhile events in Manila began to be broadcast over independent provincial radio stations, and Ramos phoned around the country to persuade more military units to defect.

—

—

Alfred McCoy, Marian Wilkinson, and Gwen Robinson, “The Shadow War,” Veritas, October 1986, p. 4, reprinted from National Times on Sunday (Australia).

special ed.,

Accelerated Decay

By

early

303

Sunday afternoon hundreds of thousands of people were

within a few blocks of the two camps. Filipino “People Power.”

Then

The whole world applauded

the most serious confrontation took

hundreds of nuns, matrons, and young men and women stood, sat, and knelt in prayer in front of armed personnel carriers and tanks that had been given the order to advance against the rebels. Soldiers were given flowers. After hours of stalemate the tanks moved back; nonviolent action had triumphed. That afternoon an Aquino representative reached agreement with Enrile assuring him of the office of minister of defense in her government, a much smaller role than he had originally demanded. At night an order by Marcos, issued on television, to “attack, demolish and exterminate” the rebels created increased anxiety and tension but could not be carried out because of place:

the reluctance of key officers.

When

eight helicopters circled over

ing, fears of

bombardment were

still

Camp Crame on Monday morn-

high, but they landed

and joined

the rebels. This was probably the military turning point; thereafter military defections took place at an increasing pace. Yet Ver threatened to

bomb and

strafe

Camp Crame, and

Marcos held a press conference

where he insisted, “I don’t intend to step down as President. Never, never!” That afternoon rebel helicopters fired a few rockets at Malacanang; they did little damage, but the American offer to fly the First Family out of the country quickly received more serious consideration. It was in the small hours of Tuesday morning, February 25, that Marcos called White House confidant Paul Laxalt and was advised that the time had come to “cut, and cut cleanly.” Later Tuesday morning

Cory Aquino was sworn

in as president of the Philippines at

Club

But Marcos persisted, Malacanang even while

Filipino before a small, well-dressed audience.

having himself inaugurated that afternoon at the U.S. Embassy was laying plans for his evacuation. After dark, helicopters bearing the presidential party, including General Ver, flew to Clark Field. Soon thereafter thousands of Filipinos wildly stormed the gates of the palace and began looting. In the streets of Manila and in several other cities around the country high-spirited celebrations

went on for hours. This four-day “Revolution” of People Power was hailed around the world as a unique phenomenon. Some would deny that it was any kind of revolution, with so little change brought about in the composition of the economic, military, and bureaucratic elites, and with the honest count of election returns simply being confirmed. But the top decision See Monina Mercado, ed., An Eyewitness History: People Power, of 1986 (Manila: James B. Reuter Foundation, 1986), pp. 284ff.

the Philippine Revolution

304

Filipino Politics

removal became possible only by means of a military rebellion rendered practically bloodless (only four men died, in the struggle over a TV station) and legitimate by the

makers were removed, and

intervention of

unarmed

that

civilians to “protect” the rebels. Election re-

were “conhrmed” by extraconstitutional processes. Thus it seems appropriate to call what happened a political revolution, even though the broader dimensions of a social revolution were certainly missing. The restoration of political freedoms by the new regime was almost sults

instantaneous.

Many

saw the remarkable events of February as a divine miracle. Aquino herself endorsed that interpretation on several occasions. The March 2 thankgiving mass in Luneta Park to celebrate her victory was held in this spirit and drew over one million people. But at least the “miracle” was assisted by human planning. Certainly the revolution would not have happened without a deep and widespread Filipino commitment to democracy. The sacrifice of NAMFREL volunteers would not have been meaningful, however, without organization, equipment, and money. The military rebellion, even though it did not go according to plan, was the consequence of years of planning. And even the nonviolent mass action, which was entirely spontaneous for most, was the result of a disciplined Ghandian commitment by some associated with Cardinal Sin and Cory. (The avoidance of large-scale violence was not according to the Marcos plan, however. Rather than being the product of his forbearance, as the White House claimed, it resulted from the moral dilemmas and ultimate disloyalty of some key Marcos officers. Linked to this question of spontaneity must be an examination of the role of the U.S. The flipflops in the White House made it understandably galling to Filipinos to hear the removal of Marcos spoken of as a “triumph of Reagan’s foreign policy” by some top U.S. officials and American journalists. More interesting, however, were the comments of Americans deeply involved in Philippine policy made privately to Filipinos

friends after the

Aquino takeover.

“Well,

we

did

it

this

time!” or

comments to that effect were reported in both Manila and Washington. What could this mean? Despite the clumsy and almost disastrous proMarcos persistence of the White House, there appears to have been considerable foreknowledge and some support in State and Defense, and perhaps the CIA, for the events that the world witnessed in February. Public pressure on Marcos, especially from Congress, was Bryan Johnson, Four Days of Courage: The Untold McClelland 8c Stewart, 1987), p. 213 and passim.

Story of the Fall of Marcos (Toronto:

Accelerated Decay

combined with

305

and not so private consultation with oppositionists, both military and civilian. Such contacts were sought by Filipinos who did not disapprove of the “right kind” of American intervention. By January 1986 it seems evident that some U.S. officials had concluded that Marcos would have to go, though many imagined that he could win the election and hang on to power. By February 8 or 9, however, the policy debate outside the White House was focused primarily on how to dump Marcos. The embassy appeared not to promote any one scenario; at the same time it did not effectively discourage RAM’s initiatives. The week before the coup two RAM officers had been invited to the home of the resident Defense Intelligence Agency representative, who was their “drinking buddy.” He told them “on highest authority” that the United States would “not look kindly” on any “unconstitutional moves by RAM,” but added “in case you have to make moves along the line of enlightened self-defense, the U.S. will understand it.” Once the rebels acted they received valuable military information from the U.S. military.®^ The 1984 National Security Staff Directive on U.S. policy toward the Philippines, leaked to the press in 1985, had set guidelines that were actually followed, at least broadly. On the one hand, it said, “our assets could be

private

we come

be seen as favoring a continuation of the Marcos regime to the exclusion of other ffic] democratic alternatives.” But it also cautioned that “our influence is most effective when it is exercised in support of efforts that have already developed within the Philippines.” U.S. agencies were not entirely uninvolved in prepara.

.

.

tions to

lost if

to

remove Marcos and

in the very last stages facilitated the

process, but they did not displace Filipino decisions. Abstention

from

more active role while achieving the desired result made it possible American officials to crow “we did it right this time” even though

a

for

the

claimed success was probably just the consequence of Washington’s political ambivalence combined with favorable Philippine circumstances. Filipinos properly claim primary credit for the initiatives and commitment that removed a dictator, and, as Marcos had received long years of massive American support, last-minute American efforts earned few kudos from Filipinos. But U.S. interests were served. The Aquino Presidency

The regime

created by People Power and military rebellion was a coalition broad enough to accommodate the political forces that con-

McCoy

“The

Topple Ferdinand E. Marcos,” Veritas, special ed., October 1986, p. 8; also Letizia R. Constantino, The Snap Revolution: A Post-Mortem (Quezon City: Karrel [1986]), p. 19, qxxoimg Herald Tribune, March 3, 1986. Alfred W.

et

al.,

Plot to

306

Filipino Politics

tributed to

UNIDO,

its

establishment

—the

military, the conservative politicians

segment of the business elite, the mixture of progressive but increasingly traditional styles which characterized the PDP-Laban, and the progressives, who ranged from Christian liberals to nonparty Marxists. These forces were all assembled in the cabinet, the major political institution for more than a year, which temporarily performed in

a

the consultative function of a legislature as well as executive roles.

The

military was, of course, the best

cohesive. Political activists in

—

RAM,

dehned element, though not

closely allied with Enrile,

were the

—

most prominent grouping further subdivided by factions but perhaps the smallest. General Ramos, still the cautious professional, had the respect of many like-minded officers who were constitutionalists. Even after February and the retirement or in a few cases the house arrest of the most prominent pro-Marcos officers, once-loyal clients of Ver and Marcos still constituted the largest group. To understand the importance of the military for the Aquino presidency one must add to the general politicization of the military the overweening presidential ambitions of Juan Ponce-Enrile, who attempted to use the military as his vehicle. Aquino recognized the problem from the beginning. She could not avoid offering the defense portfolio to Enrile on February 23, but she also appointed Rafael Ileto the retired general and ambassador to Thailand who, when vice-chief of staff, had opposed the initial declaration of martial law a deputy minister in March. Ileto, a West Point graduate, was highly respected, but was himself wary of Enrile; many regarded him as “Cory’s man in Defense.” Since 1985 UNIDO had increasingly become Laurel’s party. Many UNIDO officers left the Marcos regime only in the 1980s and they continued to approach politics as primarily a multiplication of clients through patronage. Laurel began to transform the Ministry of Foreign Affairs which along with other ministries was soon redesignated a “department” with his patronage appointments, but opportunities were more limited there than in other ministries, as President Aquino must have known. In fact, despite a relatively effective UNIDO political machine in several provinces, the party had very little influence in Cabinet, which helped explain Laurel’s frustrations in the new regime and his tendencv to seek alliance with Enrile. More stable than relations with the military was Cory’s alliance with certain business leaders. She brought into her administration some of the brightest and most vocal critics of Marcos from the economic elite, men who had been active in the Makati Business Club, NAMFREL, and the Bishops’ and Businessmen’s Conference on Human Development. Among them were Vicente Paterno (appointed head of the Philippine

—

—

—

—

Accelerated Decay

Company and

307

Vicente Jay me (head of the Philippine National Bank), Dante Santos (head of the Government Service Insurance System), Jose Concepcion (minister of trade and industry), and Jaime Ongpin (minister of hnance). These

National Oil

later elected to the Senate),

men

represented manufacturing more than agricultural exporting. They brought into government not only vast administrative experience and a free enterprise philosophy but a relatively enlightened view about the need for social reform to preserve capitalism, a view not always sustained under pressures of government. But they certainly provide a stronger voice for independent Filipino entrepreneurs, sometimes called the “national bourgeoisie,” than was possible under Marcos even to the extent of slowing the import liberalization demanded by the IMF. The Philippine Democratic Party/Lakas ng Bayan is closely linked to the president through Jose (Peping) Cojuangco, her brother, secretarygeneral and hnancial angel of the party. Party President Aquilino Pimentel, named the hrst minister of local government by Aquino, has poorly disguised presidential ambitions of his own. His party, which had initially received at least moral support from many Jesuits, is strong only in certain regions, especially Metro Manila, where LABAN was first headed by Ninoy Aquino in 1978; Cebu; and Mindanao, where Pimentel served as a city mayor. The party was founded with a strong concern for social reform and in opposition attempted to build a following on the basis of policy rather than patronage. When Pimentel took office, however, his patronage opportunities replacing KBL mayors and governors all over the country with ofhcers-in-charge until the next election were enormous. He moved rapidly, usually favoring PDP/LABAN aspirants. The political uproar he created, with protest especially from an aggrieved UNIDO but also from disinterested quarters, harmed the image of the Aquino presidency and led to his removal in December 1986 (he retained only a cabinet post without portfolio and in 1987 was elected to the Senate). He was replaced by former Batasan member Jaime Ferrer, chairman of the Commission on Elections before martial law, who had promoted Cory’s candidacy as

—

—

—

early as 1984.

The

progressive category was the most disparate of all. It includes some whom Enrile called “Communist,” but in fact no-one at the cabinet level was even neo-Marxist. (President Aquino was careful to appoint

no one suspected of Communist party membership.) The leading moderate in this group was Jovito Salonga, head of the Liberal party, who chaired the commission hunting Marcos wealth. Progressives also included the noted human rights lawyer who became executive secretary.

308

Filipino Politics

Joker Arroyo, an intimate adviser to Aquino but by all accounts a poor administrator. Another active defender of human rights and an outspoken nationalist, Jose Diokno, became chairman of the Human Rights Commission, charged with investigating and prosecuting abuses

from the Marcos era and guarding against their repetition. Augusto Sanchez, the minister of labor, had good relations with the militant labor movement; a major target of military as well as business criticism, he was removed in early 1987 and nominated for the Senate (but failed in the election).

The

not a separate bloc within the Aquino administration, because its influence is pervasive. All major groups represented in cabinet had some links with the church, but connections were strongest at the center, that is, the business elite and PDP/LABAN. Some priests, aside from Cardinal Sin, also had easy access to Cory. The president of Ateneo de Manila University, Fr. Joaquin Bernas, S.J., was particularly influential during 1986. Though Jesuit influence received most press attention, the Opus Dei both more conservative and more tightly organized was rapidly becoming an important force, taking the lead in opposing population control and in targeting Marxist influence in both church and government. Catholic influence over public Catholic church

is

—

—

education was also augmented.®® As Ninoy himself had once said, the expectations the people would place on Marcos’s successor would be impossible to achieve. Cory Aquino not only suffered that burden but took on the responsibilities of governing with almost no warning few had believed before the election that Marcos could be removed. The very breadth of the ruling coalition made it difficult to set priorities. By the end of her first hundred days in office, when the press somewhat prematurely insisted on evaluating the performance of the Aquino presidency, immobilism was presented as a serious danger. Considering the number of dilemmas Aquino faced, the warning was not surprising. Her dilemmas could be subsumed under three basic headings. First, material and moral resources were limited, and so an emphasis on short-term capability through building state power undermined prospects for long-term legitimacy, and thus stability, through responsiveness to mass demands that were more clearly articulated and better organized than ever. Ideally, of course, more capable government institutions would contribute to long-term stability, but not if it meant first reinforcing the most powerful components of the ruling

—

coalition, the military

James Clad,

“Politics

and the economic

elite,

which were sometimes

of the Cloth,” Far Eastern Economic Review, June

18, 1987, p. 46.

Accelerated Decay resistant to

309

even the most reasonable of mass demands. Secure power

tends to be arrogant.

The second dilemma was a classic one, the need to balance competing demands for protection of property and for social justice. It emerged

Aquino administration sought to recover crony the growing debate over land reform. In both cases the

hrst as the

wealth, then in

immediate tendency was to stress social justice, but over time property rights gained greater priority. Attention to both is necessary to sustain regime legitimacy. The third dilemma focused on national autonomy. Short-term capability for the state and for the economy generally, the urgency of which could easily be justihed, required access to such external resources as credit and investment. However, the conditions for access to those resources included lowering

tariffs,

cutting budgets, diverting

resources to foreign interest payments, and permitting military bases; they constrained national autonomy and harmed some elite and mass interests. Successful reliance tives for the political elite to

the regime’s approach to

The

A

New

its

on foreign resources also lowered incenbe responsive. These dilemmas underlay

pressing problems.

Constitution

nation of lawyers paid early attention to constitutional legitimacy.

Marcos had long argued that the 1973 constitution was invalid because not properly ratihed, Cory had been elected within the framework of that document. Some argued that she

Even though the opposition

to

should continue to use it, at least temporarily. Party switching after the election of a new president was an old Filipino tradition, and there were strong hints in March that enough KBL members of the Batasan would abandon their party to allow that assembly to declare that Aquino and Laurel were the true winners of the election. To have been dependent on a segment of the KBL for her proclamation as president would have been especially galling to Cory, however, and to have allowed the old Batasan to become the legislature of the new administration would have hamstrung her in some of the most urgent reforms. So she opted for a “revolutionary” approach. On March 25, after weeks of hesitation, she promulgated a provisional constitution by decree, reenacting the Bill of Rights and other provisions of the 1973 document but abolishing the Batasan and allocating full legislative power to the president pending ratihcation of a new constitution. Nevertheless, indicative of her tendencies, she avoided the label “revolutionary government.” The great majority of Filipinos thought this

310

Filipino Politics

temporary arrangement was more legitimate than sharing power with remnants of the Marcos era. In any case, charisma was a more important base for Cory’s legitimacy than constitutional niceties, as reaction to

her decree

The new

made

evident.

constitution was to be drafted by a commission of not

more

than hfty persons appointed by the president, a procedure that initially prompted considerable criticism, because assemblies for this purpose had previously been elected. The alternative was a delay of at least a year in ratifying a new constitution, with uncertainties about the future growing in the meantime. Cory, as expected, was fair; the Constitutional Commission actually appointed at the beginning of June was representative of every polkical color from the Left to the KBL, but it was dominated by the Catholic center which secured new constitutional protections for the church, such as tax exemption. It completed its work with surprising alacrity, only a month after the September deadline that the president had suggested. The resulting document reinstated most of the government machinery of the 1935 constitution, except that the president has a six-year term without reelection and the House of Representatives three years instead of four, putting the nation on a three-year, rather than the previous two-year, electoral cycle. (All national officials elected in 1986 or 1987, however, will serve until 1992.) Past problems were addressed by detailed provisions on presidential succession or disability, new limitations on the declaration of martial law, the creation of a human rights commission, and a prohibition on the president’s spouse being appointed to government office. The power of the president was reduced and that of Congress augmented in additional ways. For instance, the congressional session is extended from one hundred days to eleven months, greatly reducing the need for presidentially determined and controlled special sessions.

—

Presidential discretion in judicial appointment stricted.

is

also severely re-

Together with the prohibition against reelection, these provi-

sions could

make

for a presidency too

weak

to lead the

government

effectively.

Commission were able to push through provisions declaring the Philippines a “nuclear weapons free zone” and calling for the dissolution of the CHDF or private armies, but both are so qualihed that a government disinclined to implement them can easily hnd ways to avoid doing so. So also was the radical language about social justice and agrarian reform limited to statements Progressives in the Constitutional

of principle

—quite advanced,

be sure, but all requiring implementing legislation. An innovative provision designed to allow small parties some representation in Congress allows for the hlling of 20 percent of to

Accelerated Decay

the 250

House

311

by a party list vote, a type of proportional representation. The language is such that it will not be fully implemented for over a decade. In any case, the House is again dominated by patronage politicians elected from single-member districts. Despite the opposition of the KBL and parts of the Left (for very different reasons, of course), the document was ratihed overwhelmingly in February 1987 on the strength of President Aquino’s endorsement. The basic law is probably close to what it would have been had the Constitutional Convention of 1971 been able to complete its work without the imposition of authoritarian rule. The constitution is thus more restoration than revolution.

The Military and

seats

the Left

Competing demands from both the military and the Left focused attention on conflicting goals: building state power or consolidating long-term legitimacy through responsiveness to mass interests. Cory had promised during her campaign to free all political prisoners and seek a cease-fire with the NPA and the Moro Bangsa Army. For millions of Filipinos who had suffered from years of armed struggle, this prospect was appealing. Within her first month in office President Aquino successfully insisted that the phrase “all political prisoners” included even those charged as top Communist party officials, such as

CPP founding

chairman. She did so over the vociferous objection of Minister Enrile, who undoubtedly reflected widespread sentiment in the military and was supported in the Pentagon. The outcome was testimony to the president’s ability to assert civilian supremacy; she was no longer being called a housewife. But the armed struggle continued with army raids and NPA ambushes, while more political prisoners were seized and placed in provincialjails. Changes in the countryside were not as great as those in the capital. As she became more active in preparations for cease-fire negotiations, the president endured increasing military criticism. Wary of the obstacles she faced, Cory appointed an all-civilian panel of negotiators, chaired by Agriculture Minister Ramon Mitra (PDP/LABAN) later replaced by Audit Commissioner Teopisto Guingona, who had had a frustrating personal experience with NDF united front tactics in 1984— 85. (Human Rights Commission chair Jose Diokno was also a member but soon had to withdraw from active participation because of terminal cancer.) Military participation would probably have insured the failure of any talks, but the lack of a military presence at the table became a major complaint of Enrile’s. Formal negotiations finally began on Au-

Jose Maria Sison,

—

312

Filipino Politics

and before her triumphal visit to the United States in late September the president made two moves that strengthened her bargaining position with the Communists. First, she took the dramatic step of meeting Nur Misuari, chairman of the Moro National Liberation Front, in his home territory of Jolo. No hrm agreement resulted, but Then she had a the procedure for a future accord- was set in train. personal talk with Conrado Balweg, a former Catholic priest who led a resistance army in the mountains of northern Luzon hghting for the rights of tribal peoples; he had earlier fought as a leader of the NPA. In exchange for promises of government policy changes, he agreed that his forces would lay down their arms. Nevertheless, in the United States she encountered increasing American displeasure with her approach to the Communists. She justihed the cease-hre as merely a tactic. She had no illusions about the long-term success of a cease-hre, she replied, but needed to claim “the moral high ground” before ordering a military crack-down that would have popular support. The tactical importance of a cease-hre to the Communists was demgust

5,

when even the government’s arrest of Rodolfo Salas, reputedly commander of the NPA, in late September caused no more than a temporary halt in the negotiations. The apparent determination on the Communist side to achieve a cease-hre undoubtedly helped engender real fear of its consequences in the military. From September onstrated

November, Enrile

to

escalated his criticism of President Aquino, at-

tempting to paint her as “soft on communism.” As his charges became more outrageous and wide-ranging, he clearly implied that the military should have a coequal status with the civilian government. Fie also

dropped increasing hints of his own presidential ambitions, and RAM officers began to hint of a coup. Even American spokesmen, who had earlier thought his “whistle blowing” on communism necessary, began because of his threat to highly valued political stability. Increasingly the question being asked in the Philippines and abroad was, “Why doesn’t she hre him?” The president knew she could not govern with Enrile in the cabinet, but she could move against him only when assured of the loyalty of the military. Ever since March she had been wooing Ramos to separate him from Enrile. But the defense minister had adroitly assumed the role of protector of the Marcos loyalists after the thirty-seven-hour comic to criticize Enrile

James Clad, “The Misuari Gamble,” Far Eastern Economic Review, September 11, 1986, 18—19. The gamble failed; no accord was reached. ^^Randolf David et al.. Coup d’Etat in the Philippines: Four Essays, University of the Philippines, Third World Studies Center, Series no. 44 (Quezon City, December 1986), p. 11

.

Accelerated Decay

313

opera coup attempt by Arturo Tolentino and military friends at the Manila Hotel on July 6. Enrile was not only close to the young activists in RAM but knew he spoke also for the anticommunist anxieties of a much larger number of officers. General Ramos was not sure he could hnd consensus which was his style for ousting Enrile, as the presi-

—

—

dent’s civilian advisers devoutly wished.

In

November

events

moved

rapidly to a denouement.

The murder

of the nation’s top labor leader, Rolando Olalia, while Aquino was in Tokyo was soon linked in the Manila press to Enrile and his men, which, as expected, caused another recess in cease-hre negotiations; the ability of the military to keep those talks from bearing fruit was all too evident. (The NPA assassinated an Enrile political associate in return.) On November 22 it was reported that General Ramos had uncovered a plot by Enrile and RAM to reconvene the defunct Batasan to provide a legalistic cover for a coup, after which the military would either govern in Aquino’s name or eliminate her. The next day the president assembled her cabinet. Bred the absent Enrile, and asked for the resignation of everyone else.®® Clearly she intended to balance Enrile’s ouster with that of other cabinet ministers whose dismissal the military, through Ramos, had requested. In the following weeks the president accepted the resignations of two cabinet members charged with graft and that of Aquilino Pimentel, but the axe did not fall as rapidly as expected on others accused of leftist tendencies or mismanagement. Enrile’s replacement, the respected deputy minister Gen. Rafael Ileto, was also gentle on suspected RAM officers. Military unity was still being protected at all costs. Reacting to charges that the cease-hre talks were interminable, Aquino set a December 1 deadline for their completion. The NDF did not want to block the process, so agreement in principle was reached the following day, and on November 27 the text was signed. The cease-hre was to last at least sixty days while substantive negotiations began for a “principled settlement” of the rebellion. Steps had been taken to strengthen the center that is, the presibut was her rather modest reaction to conspiracy to dent’s hand commit rebellion adequate? Aquino moved forward her own agenda and rid herself of a major opponent in cabinet, but was state power really enhanced or mass demands met? She hoped the military would be a more disciplined instrument of government policy under Ileto, and a sixty-day cease-hre was indeed a greater step toward ending the

—

—

®®See James Clad, “Marching Orders,” Far Eastern Economic Review, December pp. 10-21.

4,

1986,

314

Filipino Politics

rebellion than

many had

expected. Cease-fire committees were estab-

lished in each province, usually chaired by a religious hgure,

and

compliance was more general than either side had predicted. The popular yearning for peace was undoubtedly a factor. Even before the cease-fire was signed, however, Mrs. Aquino achieved a goal that most military observers did not recognize: dissent within Communist ranks. Cory’s political ascendancy had, in fact, upset CPP calculations. Their boycott of an election that they had expected Marcos to “win” put them in an awkward position in late February. They hoped to show their support for Aquino in the general strike that was planned, but the military foreclosed that option. After Mrs. Aquino took power and Communists were excluded, a vigorous debate erupted within the party. Within a few months intraparty differences even appeared in a journal generally available in academic circles. The hrst response of the party executive committee was to admit that boycott was an error but to try to minimize its signihcance and reaffirm the primacy of armed struggle in party strategy. The official view was that the class composition of the Aquino regime was no different from that of Marcos’s, and thus little had changed. From intraparty critics came an analysis, however, that called attention to progressive elements around Cory which should be supported and insisted on accepting the reality of Cory’s tremendous popularity. They also asserted that “subordinating the political struggle to the Doctrinal deemphasis on cease-fire negotiations,

cadres

armed

armed

struggle

is

too narrow.”^^

struggle led, of course, to support for

many spartan life of the guerrilla for more than some regions were so bold as to make

which was understandably appealing

who had endured

the

a decade. Party leaders in

to

contacts independently with local officials about a cease-fire. So, after

months of wrangling, the removal of Enrile tipped the balance in the party debate and the cease-fire agreement was signed. But negotiations on a permanent cease-fire, which required a political settlement, did not prosper. NDF demands included several that should have been relatively easy for the Aquino administration to accept: protection of tion

and

civil liberties,

land reform,

Moro

self-determina-

free public education. Abolition of foreign military bases,

however, and formation of a coalition government while the NPA remained armed were major obstacles.^ No progress was being made, ^

Carol Victoria, “A Reply to the Resolution,” Praktika 1 (August 1986), p. 67. ’’iNDF, “Proposal of the National Democratic Front for a Negotiated Political Settlement,” December 23, 1986, and government response in A Record of the Peace Initiatives Offered by the Government of the Republic of the Philippines to the NDF (Manila: Information Division, GRP Negotiating Panel for Peace, 1987). This book also contains the text of the cease-fire agreement.

Accelerated Decay

and

it is

tions

315

NDF planned to withdraw from the negotia19877^ On that same day a tragic incident rein-

reported that the

by January 22,

forced the decision.

The KMP,

the largest NDF-related farmers’ union,

had organized a march on Malacahang demanding land reform. Before they reached the palace, government troops bred on the demonstrators, killing at least hfteen and wounding nearly a hundred. More people were killed that day than in any confrontation on the streets of Manila during the Marcos era. Most members of the Human Rights Commission resigned in protest. Progressive observers charged a military conspiracy to embarrass President Aquino another coup was attempted five days later whereas others suspected Communist provocation. In any case, the range of debate within the revolutionary movement narrowed. Yet there was still no consensus on how to relate to the February 2 plebiscite on the constitution: the NDF and their

—

—

allies

generally voted “no,” but in several locations

NDF

leaders took a

did the nonparty Left. the cease-hre expired on February 7 without further negotia-

“critical yes” position, as

When

tions, the

Aquino administration turned

insurgency.

A

to other tactics to deal with the

presidential proclamation offered amnesty to

who had committed

anyone

a political crime, such as “subversion” or “re-

bellion” (but not theft,

murder,

etc.),

and would “return

to the fold

the law.” Millions were appropriated for assistance to those

The government

of

who would

door open to regional ceasehres, but no agreements were announced. This was not a repeat of 1953, however; the insurgency was not seriously weakened. Although the U.S. Defense Department, CIA, and National Security Council had supported the Philippine military position that the ceasehre was a net beneht to the insurgents, there was no evidence, American ofhcials admitted, of an increase in NPA armed strength since Aquino had taken office. The ratio of forces (nearly 15,000 armed hghters for the NPA to about 50,000 combat troops in the held for the government) was nevertheless insufficient to control the insurgency by arms. Nor were training and supplies adequate. Said Secretary of Defense Ileto soon after taking office, “Frankly speaking, the military is Counterinsurgency strategy had not ready to hght the communists. not changed from the Marcos era, nor had standards of discipline. return.

also kept the

Gareth Porter, “Counterinsurgency Review 7 (Summer-Fall 1987), p. 100. ^2

in the Philippines:

Aquino Was

Right,” SAIS

73 Ibid., p. 102.

74FBIS, December 1986.

5,

1986,

p.

11,

and interview

in

Tempo

(Jakarta),

November

29,

316

Filipino Politics

Recorded human rights abuses by the military declined in Aquino’s hrst year, but by mid- 1987 the message for anyone accused of such abuses was clear: not a single investigation of human rights violations had resulted in a court martial.

Thus abuses again

increased.

In 1987 President Aquino faced renewed coup threats, pushing her

toward further accommodation tion,

new

to military preferences.

Accommoda-

together with the perceived inadequacy of regular forces and a thrust in American policy, led to the emergence of a very different

counterinsurgency strategy by April. The change in American policy had apparently begun in October 1986 with an extended visit to the Philippines by retired Major General John Singlaub, chairman of the World Anti-Communist League, key hgure in Operation Phoenix during the Vietnam War, conhdant of Oliver North, and CIA veteran. Singlaub, ostensibly on a “hunt for buried treasure,” called on Minister Enrile and General Ramos, and was entertained by Gen. Luis Villareal, Aquino’s appointee to head the National Intelligence Coordinating Authority and also president of the Philippine Anti-Communist League. A senior military officer said, after he had talked to Singlaub, that the Philippine military was developing an anticommunist vigilante movement in the countryside and welcomed help for this purpose. Villareal was also active in assisting the vigilantes. Diplomatic sources later revealed that the CIA had allocated $10 million to hnance counterinsurgency efforts in the Philippines. In the provinces some vigilante leaders were proud to admit Singlaub’s support. This operation appears to be the CIA’s most massive intervention in Philippine affairs since the

Magsaysay

era.

Within three months of the end of the cease-hre scores of armed anticommunist groups had been created in nearly thirty provinces. Some had been formed earlier and merely surfaced after the ceasehre.^® The hrst, the largest (claiming 10,000 members), and the best organized was Alsa Masa (“Masses Arise”) in Davao City. Its origins can, in part, be found in the excesses of the NPA, which had grown very rapidly in that region in 1983—85. Some undisciplined NPA elements

had mistreated the tingly admitted a to eliminate

had unwitagents, and in trying

civilian population; also the guerrillas

number of military

intelligence

them they were sometimes

indiscriminate in their violence.

"^^See Philadelphia Inquirer, February 15, 1987, p. 1-A; New York Times, February 18, 1987; San Francisco Examiner, February 18, 1987, p. A-1; and Village Voice, February 24,

may have moved

too far, too fast for some in Defense; he was removed in July. See James Clad, “Retirement Wrangles,” Far Eastern Economic Review, July 23, 1987.

1987,

p.

14. Villareal

Manila

Chronicle,

May

15, 1987.

Accelerated Decay

317

was relatively easy to mobilize anticommunist vigilantes. The media helped whip up such a phobia that by February the Davao City government was hnancing the Alsa Masa, even though reports were already surfacing of collection of involuntary taxes, forced recruitment, and settlement of personal scores. Without criticism from the Catholic hierarchy Alsa Masa continued to exdespite the Human Rights Commission call for dissolution. pand, Government policy was taking a different path. The secretary of local government, Jaime Ferrer, who had organized the CIA-backed NAMFREL in 1951, now urged governors and mayors to launch “unarmed” vigilantes under the name NAKASAKA (United People for Peace). (In fact, many recruited to NAKASAKA were armed, often because they were also members of the CHDF.) Mrs. Aquino spoke kindly of NAKASAKA as being a brand of People Power. In April, however, she ordered the prompt disbanding of the CHDF, as called for by the constitution, and a few days later issued “clarihcations” indicating that the disappearance of the CHDF might be a very slow process and that civilian vigilantes would not be affected by the order. This vacillation again revealed her inability to stand up to the military. The failure to follow through on dire threats against participants in the January coup attempt conhrmed the assessment. On several occasions orders issued by Secretary of Defense Ileto to halt corruption or to impose discipline were simply ignored by the officers addressed. Many were asking, “Who controlled the military?” That question was even more forcefully raised by the nearly successful coup of August 28, 1987, led by Col. Gregorio Honasan, long a key hgure in the Reform the Armed Forces Movement and allied to Enrile. Rebel forces initially seized some military installations, and there was even hghting outside Malacahang Palace. Although loyal forces under General Ramos eventually triumphed, Colonel Honasan escaped capture for months. Thousands of his military comrades had been sympathetic to his efforts, and for weeks there were rumors of new coup attempts. Despite bold statements in the immediate aftermath of an intention to crack down on military dissidents, not until October was President Aquino able to create the hrm impression that she would survive, and then only at the expense of numerous concessions to the military, ranging from greater anticommunist militancy to a long overdue 60 percent pay raise. But the commander-in-chief of the New Armed Forces of the Philippine still did not exercise effective In 1987, with military backing,

it

Carolyn Arguillas, “The Davao Experiment,” Veritas, March 5-11, 1987, pp. 16—21. James Clad, “Vigilante Power,” Far Eastern Economic Review, April 23, 1987 p. 33. ,

318

Filipino Politics

control over

factions.

all

The

had been able to had had even under Marcos. military

assert a

more

independent role than it Despite American concern over impaired military effectiveness inherent in continued factional struggle, by 1987 the United States had reason to be satished with the Aquino administration on another score. Although those who knew her best never doubted that she shared fundamental American perceptions of the world, Aquino had insisted during the 1986 elections that she would keep her options open on the question of extending the bases agreement, worrying many in the Pentagon. After she came to power the United States several times attempted to get her to declare publicly for extension, which would have divided her ruling coalition. During her visit to Washington there emerged a better understanding of her position; U.S. calls to break her moratorium on public discussion of the issue ceased. Few in the know questioned Cory’s commitment to the extension of basing rights, and few except for those on the Left raised the matter in the May election campaign. With a military out of control and mushrooming vigilante groups, the CPP might have been expected to renew its commitment to armed struggle. But determination to pursue the parliamentary path appeared at the time to be strong in at least one faction. In preparation for the May congressional elections a leftist party, Partido ng Bayan, was organized, and after initial rejection its registration was accepted by the Commission on Elections. Its candidates included some of the most prominent of released political prisoners, among them “Commander” Dante Buscayno, the founder of the NPA; Horacio “Boy” Morales, reputed to have been chairman of the NDF in the late 1970s; Jaime Tadeo, KMP president; and Nelia Sancho, former beauty queen and leading hgure in leftist women’s groups. The presence of the PnB gave a new flavor to an election campaign that otherwise had many echoes of the 1960s.

The

May

The

Election

on May

of 200 members to the House and 24 to the Senate was expected to be the hrst truly free contest since 1971. This expectation was revealed in part in the number of candidates, 84 for the Senate and 1,899 for the House, much larger than ever before in Philippine history. Overnight the Philippines had become a multiparty system. Aquino still did not form a party of her own but put together a coalition that largely replicated her winning team in 1986. It produced election

1 1

Accelerated Decay

319

ng Bayan, nearly half having been either the cabinet or senior presidential staff members. For the

a single Senate slate, Lakas

recently in

House, on the other hand, there was an almost undecipherable mixture of pro-Aquino candidates endorsed by the coalition, by major parties (e.g., UNIDO, PDP/LABAN, and Salonga Liberals), or by several other minor parties or a combination thereof. One candidate ran under seven different banners at once. Most opposition candidates fell into three groups: the Grand Alliance for Democracy (GAD) led by Juan Ponce-Enrile and including other former Marcos cabinet members (Labor Minister Ople, Foreign Minister Tolentino, and others), former KBL legislators, and a few conservative pre-1986 oppositionists; the Kilusang Bagong Lipunan, more Marcos stalwarts who talked frequently of bringing the former president back home; and the Alliance for New Politics, of which the major component was the Partido ng Bayan. ANP had seven Senate candidates and nominated or backed candidates in most House districts. There were also scores of independents.

The campaign

itself

combined

styles

new and

old.

The media

did an

unusually good job of highlighting the issues, as did the candidates of the Left and their supportive “cause-oriented groups.” But the media also repeated in the electronic mode of the eighties the hoopla of old. Both government and GAD candidates spent more money on TV spots than ever before. The fact that one candidate who had long plugged a certain brand of toothpaste did unusually well was a tribute to this medium. Spending also followed more traditional routes; in some rural areas the candidates’ agents distributed P5, 000— 10,000 per barrio a few days before the election. Legally a Senate candidate could spend as much as F37 million, and some exceeded that hgure; a conservative estimate of all candidate and party expenditures reached nearly P3 billion, nearly half of the annual budget for the military. Pork

—

—

barrel expenditures were not signihcant, however, unlike in the 1960s,

and President Aquino rejected labor’s demand for an increase in the minimum wage on May 1 not a vote-gettering move. The turnout on election day of 90 percent of registered voters an

—

all-time high ticipation

—was a tribute

and

—

to the

to the vigor of the

demand for electoral parcompetition. The outcome, with all pent-up

but two Senate seats taken by the government coalition and a comfortable majority for pro-Aquino parties in the House, was a tribute to the continuing' vitality of Cory’s charisma. Whatever the tribulations of her administration, her personal reputation was still unsullied in the eyes of the general public, which remembered well the “Miracle of EDSA.”

320

Filipino Politics

Economic conditions for many had improved, with a drop in world oil prices facilitating an end to inflation, a turn toward positive GNP growth, and the calling back of thousands of laid-off workers. Temporary mayors and governors appointed since March 1986 had also been instructed to work hard for Cory’s candidates. The poor showing for a free-spending GAD, and the shutout in the Senate for the KBL, produced instant charges of massive fraud, with protest rallies to emphasize the point. A skeptical media was not convinced; foreign observers agreed that

COMELEC

administration was

often incompetent but noted that fraud and violence was much pervasive than in the previous two elections and seldom

less

seemed

to

an outcome. Aside from Ilocano-speaking areas, the only remaining bastion for the conservative opposition was the military. The absentee ballots, more than 90 percent of which came from military camps, registered more than a two to one support for GAD and KBL. The Philippine Military Academy class of 1972 also issued a public statement echoing GAD charges of fraud, thus making the election outcome less reassuring for the president that it might have been.^^ The fate of the Left, more bleak than some sophisticated pundits had expected, also had unsettling implications.^^ No ANP candidates for the Senate and only 3 out of 71 House candidates won. The disillusionment of many ANP officials was so great that they warned some might reconsider whether elections were “a proper alternative form of strug-

affect

gle.”^ ^

gle

is

NDF representative Satur Ocampo reiterated that “armed strug-

the

main form of struggle for the people

to achieve

fundamental

change,” a view that regained strength in revolutionary circles in light of the events in the months following.^^ A few party officials indicated that although there were still important differences on this question among cadres, they believed that ANP failure merely required the

become more

of “electoral struggle.” It is also true that the vigilante movement deterred some voters that the Left had counted as sympathetic; ANP campaign workers were kidnaped and murdered both before and after the election. The U.S. Defense Department was more realistic than some elite Filipino observers. Said Deputy Assistant Secretary Karl Jackson, “the legislative elections represent yet another political setback [for the insurgency], but do not necessarily indicate an erosion of the Communist mass base.”^^ Left to

Manila Chronicle, Manila Chronicle, Manila Chronicle, Midday,

May

May May May

skilled in the techniques

19, 1987. 5,

1987.

21, 1987.

18, 1987.

Manila Chronicle,

May

21, 1987.

Accelerated Decay

321

Land Reform

The

priority given to land

reform

after the elections

by a large

segment of the political elite implied that they must have assumed they had witnessed the beginning of the end of the insurgency. Not only were the tactical alliances with the Left made by some of Cory’s collaborators in 1984 and 1985 already long forgotten, so also were 1986 campaign commitments designed to appeal to a mass following. In June 1986, in fact, the president had already begun to hedge on earlier proposals for extending land reform beyond rice and corn and on her resolve to subject her own family’s Hacienda Luisita to reform. When farmers asking for land reform were shot down by marines as they approached the presidential palace in late January 1987, national outrage forced new attention to the topic. A Cabinet Action Committee was formed and set to work drafting policy. In April they learned that two-thirds of a national sample of Filipino voters wanted the president to use her decree powers to institute land reform right away, without waiting until Congress convened in July.®^ The draft that took shape by

May covered

provided for coverage of land under all crops, phased in over a hve-year period, though landowners could retain 7 hectares. Despite the apparent sweeping coverage, encouragement of “voluntary land-sharing arrangements,” some of which already existed in sugar areas of Negros, would in effect have exempted many estates from land reform for fifteen years. Owners were to be paid the amount that appeared on the land tax declaration, far below the “fair market value” implicit in the constitutional requirement for “just compensation.” (Such a provision became impossible after the Supreme Court struck down all of the Marcos decrees with similar clauses, so the Committee reverted to the unworkable procedure that landowners would estimate the value of their own lots.)®^ The principle of “affordable repayment” recognized that land reform benehciaries would not repay the full cost of acquisition to the government, adding to the overall expense. The total bill for the hve years, including administrative and land improvement costs, was estimated at P65 billion. Cabinet members quarreled publicly as to whether the expense was too great and how the funds were to be raised. Indecision on this and other matters caused the president to cancel plans to issue a land reform decree on May 30 before a national early

only the bare essentials.

It

^'^Memo from Mahar Mangahas (Social Weather Stations, Inc.), re: Current Public Opinion on Land Reform, April 21, 1987. Export Processing Zone Authority vs. Ceferino E. Dulay, G.R. no. 59603, April 29, 1987.

322

Filipino Politics

Congress for a People’s Agrarian Reform. In June the World Bank submitted a surprising confidential report to Mrs. Aquino, obviously to press her for action. Unlike other bankers, who had expressed subtle opposition by decrying the excessive expense of the proposed reform, those at the World Bank plumped for an even more rapid and sweeping reform at 84 percent of the cost, which they said would not be hard to finance from domestic and foreign sources.®^ Their proposal called for simultaneous coverage of all crops and sizes of holdings, recommended only a nominal payment by the beneficiary, and endorsed the controversial land tax declaration as the basis for compensation. The Bank correctly concluded that prolonged implementation makes landlord evasion easier and is often associated with loss of political will by the executive. In mid-July, with less than two weeks left for Aquino to issue a decree, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines also weighed in for land reform, urging the government to make what the church called “a preferential option for the poor” and adopt a “truly realistic and comprehensive agrarian reform program.”®^ In the meantime indecision had invited social conflict. In Negros some landlords who had already organized private armies declared they would fight rather than give up their lands. A jump in world sugar prices spurred them to battle. Other sugar planters lobbied against reform more discreetly and more effectively. The KMP, on the other hand, had inaugurated in late 1986 a series of “organized land occupations,” usually on idle estates of Marcos cronies, and farm workers’ unions in Negros did the same. More than 20,000 has. had been put into production by peasant occupiers in only a few months, and more occupations were announced every week.®® The presidential decree finally issued on July 22 was likely to exacerbate social and political conflict. Although the decree declared the intent to expand land reform coverage beyond rice and corn, it left to congressional determination the most controversial provisions, such as the timetable for implementation, the size of holdings to be retained by landlords, and the level of compensation. It specifically recognized that disputes over compensation could be taken to the courts, which would delay implementation for years. Both sugar planters and peasant groups imme-

®®Nayan Chanda, “Painful 22

Prescription,” Far Eastern Economic Review, July 2, 1987, p.

.

Toronto Globe and Mail, July 16, 1987, p. A- 13. Francisco Lara, The Status of Land Reform under the Aquino Government: An Endgame Gritique, Philippine Peasant Institute, Agricultural Policy Studies no. 3 (Quezon City, May 1987),

p. 2.

Accelerated Decay

323

Congress might be pressured into enacting land reform it had happened in 1971 without the support of the president, but it would be a long process and the result would certainly not resemble the World Bank proposal. The agrarian reform question had, more clearly than any other policy issue, illustrated the extent to which the Aquino regime was a restoration, not a revolution. The sugar bloc, which had hrst restricted land reform to rice and corn in the 1950s, then again in the 1960s and 1970s, was resurgent. No one accused Cory of personal greed, but her family was a problem, and as a member of the landed elite she listened most intently to members of the same class. She did not have Magsaysay’s skill for hearing out a peasant grievance and acting on it. Nor did she have a clear understanding of the extent of the problems she was creating by failing to act decisively. Peasants were more effectively diately protested.®^ Ultimately

—

organized than ever before. Despite a hne personal example, her inability to stamp out corruption was also worrisome. The attempts to cleanse the Augean stable of Marcos patronage were at best haphazard and inadequate, more often inept. Aquino’s brother was not helpful, nor was the appointment of a cabinet member trained under Marcos patrimonialism to take charge of administrative reorganization a useful step toward reform. The president has shown a strong attachment to the traditional value of utang na loob, personal obligation derived from previously accepting assistance. In terms of human relations utang na loob is certainly a virtue, but as the primary basis for appointments and other political decisions it is dangerous, for it displaces objective criteria. In 1986 political legitimacy required that the ill-gotten gains of Marcos and his cronies be recovered insofar as possible. One of Mrs. Aquino’s brightest and most respected advisers, Jovito Salonga, was assigned that task as head of the Philippine Commission for Good Government. Pending the completion of legal research to establish ownership beyond a shadow of doubt, the assets of scores of corporations were sequestered, including some of the nation’s largest. After they are clearly identified as crony capital, corporations will be sold to new owners. Salonga was elected to the Senate and is no longer at PCGG; not all his successors may be above reproach. Aquino’s friends will face the temptation to benefit from their connections. If the buyers, at favorable prices, should turn out to be cronies of the new regime, the road will have been opened to political decay.

^^New

York Times, July 23, 1987.

324

Filipino Politics

Conclusion

Corazon Aquino’s election arrested the political decay under Marcos which was rapidly descending into a revolutionary situation. With robust legitimacy and the trust of almost all groups within society, she had a new opportunity to meet popular demands and reestablish stability. But she did not, as Max Weber says, routinize her charisma. She was faced with an obstreperous military that had its own agenda. The bureaucracy, loaded with Marcos holdovers, was not cleansed but was filled to overflowing by some of her less respected allies. To sustain her legitimacy the president must be responsive to wellarticulated interests of the masses as well as those of the elites. Al-

though she seems devoid of the personal greed of her predecessor, she

some

Demanding

could block responsive policies, as in the crucial case of agrarian reform. The conditions that breed revolutionary movements may be revived, appearing to justify another slide into anticommunist authoritarianism. The kind of democracy which Cory Aquino championed in 1986 cannot survive in the has

short-sighted

allies.

elites

Philippines without greater social justice. And, despite certain frictions, the trend toward closer cooperation with the United States on both

economic and military matters showed signs of again coalescing nasentiment against the regime. Development and decay have many permutations. In 1987 Filipinos, with new leaders and some new institutions, still had the opportunity to create a democratic nation, independent, stable, and prosperous, one that would retain the respect around the world they had won so quickly with the outpouring of People Power. But the prospects of translating tionalist

that possibility into reality

were fading.

11

Conclusion

marked by powerful continuities alongside growing forces for change and has witnessed periods of both development and decay. From the colonial period the nation inherited Politics in

the Philippines has been

democracy dominated by an oligarchy that was buttressed by patronage, coupled with continued dependence on the former colonial power. Despite spurts of progress toward political development in the 1950s and 1960s amid growing intra-elite competition, in 1972 a crisis for both patrimonial politics and the neocolonial relationship produced a military-backed authoritarian regime that lasted for nearly fourteen years. Efforts toward export-oriented industrialization were plagued by an unstable mix of patrimonialism and rule by technocrats gradually tilting toward the former ^so this regime never became fully legitimate. In fact, its phenomenal corruption and oppression increasingly alienated the population. As it approached a succession crisis, mired in economic depression and expanding insurgency, it descended into accelerated political decay and hnally collapsed in the face of a unique combination of military intrigue and pious a constitutional

—

—

populism, called by some a revolution. The immensely popular leader who restored freedom of expression and honest elections does not seem able to cope with the staggering legacy of corruption, a newly politicized military, and a widespread revolutionary movement as well as the more conventional, but still acute, economic problems typical of Third World countries. Thus the bright hopes of 1986 for a new era of political development have been dashed. To conclude this assessment of the political dynamics of the Philippine system, a review in greater depth of the patterns of change is

—

required.

The

Philippines achieved formal independence in 1946 in the midst

of the economic devastation caused by World War II, a devastation more severe than that suffered by other Southeast Asian countries. It

326

Filipino Politics

enjoyed greater institutional continuity in the postwar period than its neighbors, however, because the 1935 constitution served as framework for government after independence. There were, of course,

economic, and cultural continuities as well. Prewar political leaders played a greater role in the postindependence era than in most former colonies, a consequence, in part, of independence being the fruit of negotiation. These patterns persisted until the abandonment of the 1935 constitution in January 1973; even then the change was less fundamental than it hrst appeared. And in 1986 both the pre-1973 social,

were largely restored. Despite these continuities, however, the process of modernization was irreversibly affecting Philippine life throughout this twenty-sixyear period. The transformation of many rural landlords into urban capitalists and the intrusion into village life of moneylenders and politiconstitution

cal leaders

and

its elites

seeking electoral support undermined the traditional,

all-

purpose, patron-client relationship, which had been a key element in the social structure. Among some urban workers, plantation laborers, and tenants on large haciendas a much more impersonal relationship with employer or overseer developed. The seeds of class consciousness were being planted by many who moved into the new social space to serve as peasant or labor leaders. At the same time educational opportunity expanded, as did media exposure (especially in the 1960s with the proliferation of transistor radios). Aspirations were raised; material wants expanded but were often unmet. Increased domestic travel blurred regional differences among Christian Filipinos. Muslims, however, became more conscious of their difference. Affecting all these changes was a population explosion; at around 3 percent per year the growth rate was one of the fastest in the world. As a result the land frontier was rapidly disappearing; in the 1960s average farm sizes began to decline for the hrst time. More unemployed farm youth came to the cities, depressing urban wages. Economic growth had been rapid in the 1950s, partly just a recovery from the ravages of war, then slowed in the sixties rates were still better than the Southeast Asian average, however. The introduction of exchange controls and then tariff protection fostered the growth of industry. More and more Filipino businessmen became aware of the advantages of restricting foreign competition; economic nationalism was on the rise. Industrial growth diversihed the economic elite; large landowners in rice and sugar began to lose their earlier total dominance in elite circles. Wealthy old families branched out into new helds, introducing the possibility of economic conflicts that would strain elite kinship ties. Because of several generations of assimilation by Filipino

—

Conclusion

327

Chinese, there was no cultural cleavage between ruling and entrepreneurial groups, removing obstacles to legitimate political participation

by the bourgeoisie as experienced in Indonesia and Malaysia. Even what remained of the distinctively Chinese business community had a political role to play alongside Filipinos as the expense of elections escalated and candidates sought ever-larger business contributions. As traditional patrons gradually disappeared, political loyalty had increasingly to be purchased; and the price of a vote was rising.

The economic decision

making

elite

were able

to retain the influence in political

essential to their interests not only because candidates

sought their support during elections but because pervasive kinship networks bridged the political and economic worlds at the top. While electoral rhetoric catered to mass demands, it was usually forgotten by the time policy decisions were to be made, normally behind closed doors. Inadequacies in policy formulation were at least matched by those in policy implementation. Low government salaries and strong political patrons helped keep an ever-expanding bureaucracy both corrupt and weak. This bureaucracy was only one dimension of a “soft state” unable to collect more than a small share of the GNP in taxes, effectively regulate powerful economic groups, or efficiently distribute social services. Thus policy implementation was seldom an important source of regime legitimacy, except briefly in the mid-1950s. The institutions of the constitutional period were imperfectly responsive to mass demands, which were infrequently articulated in any case. But they did, especially with the emergence of a strong legislature, encourage competition within the elite. Because successful competition required electoral support, it provided an incentive for mobilizing greater mass participation, at least to vote. The bargaining position of peasants and workers, the voter/clients, was temporarily enhanced in the electoral process. The interest of the growing middle class in the electoral process was more intense and more persistent, however; it sparked a new breed of reformist candidates, as well as an outpouring of volunteer monitors on voting day, especially in the early 1950s and again in the 1960s, who kept electoral fraud to a minimum. Except for 1949 and 1969, in fact, elections tended to legitimate the system. But only occasionally did a principled defender of mass interests usually from the middle class get elected and persevere in that defense. The constitutional framework inherited from 1935 was an American-style system of checks and balances. A slow but steady growth of congressional influence made the Philippine legislature one of the most potent in Asia. But preponderant power still resided in the presidency potentially unlimited power, in fact, because of the provision

—

—

—

328

Filipino Politics

allowing for the declaration of martial law. The the Asian context, unusually independent, but

Supreme Court

was, in

seldom capable of restraining presidential power. The military was heavily influenced by American training and ideology, had had no heroic role in the nation’s history, and was effectively subordinate to civilian politicians. In sum, an executive-dominated constitutional system facilitated intra-elite competition, and thus mass participation in elections, but almost never implemented policies contrary to the interests of men of great wealth. Still, the quality of participation improved, at least until 1970 (the election of the Constitutional Convention), so that the articulate middle class was willing to contribute to a national mood of systemic legitimacy. Confidence was still widespread that progress could be achieved within the existing institutional framework. Even the Constitutional Convention was expected to tinker with, rather than displace, the basic law of 1935. Political development still seemed possible to most active participants, but awareness among the masses of their broadly defined interests, and of government’s impact on them, was still

still

limited.

of students, workers, and peasants in the late 1960s escalated demands for basic change, this “elite democracy” was attacked as insufficiently responsive. Nationalist and reformist goals were given increasing attention in a free press, the Congress, the Supreme Court, and even in the Constitutional Convention, but this attention was not enough to head off street demonstrations of unprecedented proportions in 1970, sparking clashes in which several died. Quickly many in the economic and political elite became frightened by preposterous scenarios of early Communist takeover, undoubtedly encouraged by a president who would have reached the constitutional limit of eight years in office by 1973 and was clearly looking to prolong his power. More fundamentally, the crisis may have been inherent in the system. Every regime, capitalist or Communist, democratic or authoritarian, has limited resources and prefers to restrict demands upon it which proliferate with modernization for participation in the decision-making process or for distribution of government output. Some democratic regimes are relatively open to process demands, even when elite control of policy restricts the range of outputs, but over time a discrepancy between process and output creates severe tensions and thus cannot last. Progressive reformers contested elections sometimes successfully, but could not determine policy. Mass expectations were raised but not fulfilled. Democratization of process must finally lead to greater equity, by tightening the linkages between mass electoral participation and

As rapid

political mobilization

—

—

Conclusion

—

—

making the essence of political development or the ruling must restrict the expanding participation. The former course may

policy elite

329

threaten

elite interests, so

the latter tends to be preferred. Such was the

Philippine experience in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the consequence of systemic imbalance.

The

system was self-destructive in another dimension. The increasing cost of elections was a severe burden on business donors, the budget, and the whole economy. Yet as long as the traditional sense of obligation of client to patron continued to erode while clientage was the basis of an electoral following, this escalation was inevitable. The only sharp divergence from the ever-rising curve of election costs was in 1953, when Magsaysay’s charisma was worth many millions and businessmen would not give to a doomed Quirino candidacy. By 1969 election costs were so great as to trigger massive government dehcits and ultimately the devaluation of the peso.^ Technocrats, politicians, and businessmen were all looking for alternatives, and thus Marcos

found sympathy for abandoning elections altogether. The crisis also had international and economic dimensions. Some unfulhlled mass demands were perceived as threatening by dominant foreign interests as well as by the local economic elite. The worries of the American business community were clearly communicated to the U.S. Embassy, so that Marcos found support for retaining power while restricting participation, a scheme unveiled on September 22, 1972, with the declaration of martial law. Marcos had learned from nearly twenty years of political experience that no internal Filipino transformation would be possible without the support or acquiescence of the United States, and in broader promises to protect American interests he had found a mechanism for securing the change he sought. After September 1972 both the power base of the regime and its strategies for gaining legitimacy shifted.

The

abolition of Congress, of

and of a free press contrasted with the political rise of the military; meanwhile there was continuity of personnel in the executive branch, with the power of technocrats enhanced. The economic elite acquiesced in these changes but did not participate in the political process as they had before martial law. The state had come to dominate society. Government revenues were a higher perfree elections, of free speech,

centage of

GNP than ever before, while direct state participation in the

was growing almost daily. Some corporations of out-of-favor “oligarchs” were administered by the military,

economy and

lAmando M.A.

thesis,

in cultural life

Doronila,

Monash

“The Rise of the Patron

University, 1982, 135-36.

State in the Philippines,”

unpublished

330

Filipino Politics

number of entirely new government enterprises were also born. Overall economic planning by technocrats also became more effective. The emphasis of legitimation strategy shifted from process to output,

while a

with repression of opposition and control of the media attempting to create an illusion of complete consensus. Rhetorical flourishes and a

—

—

few substantive though temporary efforts against corruption, plus some dramatic moves toward improved peace and order, social reform, and economic development, did create real and widespread support for the martial law regime in the first year. There was considerable talk about the need to trade off freedom against order, prosperity, and social justice. Trends in world markets also favored Marcos. Foreign capital was courted, and flowed in at an increasing rate; a rapid rise in was finational expenditures over 45 percent per year, 1973—75 nanced by improved tax collection and lavish foreign and domestic borrowing. Credit from government sources, in turn, flowed freely for clients of the New Society. The general good feeling about what Marcos called “constitutional authoritarianism” extended into 1974. All in all, the capacity of government to make and implement policy had noticea-

—

—

bly strengthened.

The

legitimizing potential of this

The seemingly

new

capacity was great, but

it

was

greed of the Marcos family and their friends and relations is an important but insufficient explanation. In part Marcos, like so many other national leaders, was a prisoner of his own past. He had matured in a political system that usually mobilized mass support indirectly, through patron-client networks. Although his reliance on military power after 1972 might have freed him from the costly burden of maintaining those networks, he could not “kick the habit.” (In any case, he wanted alternatives to military support.) Instead he sought to perfect the patron-client system by centralizing it on himself, foregoing reliance on local intermediaries by dealing directly with barangay leaders at least in the mid-1970s. We do not know whether he spent any private funds on this expanded clientage or found government coffers sufficient for the purpose. But we do know, from one of his early confidants, that building a private fortune was in the president’s mind justified by the need to fulfill the responsibilities of superpatron. The influx of foreign credit and capital not realized.

insatiable

—

broadened the opportunities. Nor were there any restraints on unprecedented elite accumulation in the economic structures of the martial law regime. The promotion of capitalist economic development through state initiatives actually encouraged the public-private linkages that gave the superpatron and his “cronies” so much oppportunity. And as long as those linkages were

Conclusion

331

designed to promote rationally planned growth, as they initially seemed to be, foreign creditors had no complaints. For several years, in fact, these creditors were so eager to lend (at high interest) that they asked few questions. Nor did political structures constitute a check. The press was muzzled; the legislature, until 1978, was nonexistant. Even if some oppositionist mustered the courage to condemn massive presidential corruption, no conceivable mechanism short of assassination, coup, or revolution could censure or remove the president. The regime emerging was neopatrimonial, replacing the “authoritan-technocratic” mode by the late 1970s.2 Under wise and self-disciplined leadership, an elite could have used the breathing room of restricted participation to meet pent-up demands for social equity and welfare, thus reducing the intensity of future demands and helping create genuine political stability. Some had hoped, from Marcos’s rhetoric and 1972 policies, this pattern would emerge. But such hopes must be based on belief that the ruling elite will be able to restrict its own economic opportunities just as they are potentially at their greatest and will choose to redistribute wealth just when the chances for accumulation escalate. Such beliefs are hard to sustain in the face of historical evidence, from the Philippines or elsewhere. Support for Marcos by the world’s greatest economic and military power, moreover, made responsiveness to mass demands even

making it seem to him unnecessary. The Marcos honeymoon with the New Society already seemed to be ending by late 1974. The cancellation in September 1974 of the sched-

less likely,

uled nationwide village-level consultation, or pulong-pulong, designed to ferret out corrupt officials, was one turning point; it was followed by the hrst organized boycott of a referendum in February 1975. Corruption was again on the rise throughout the society; repression of dissent through arbitrary arrest, torture, and executions without trial was creating bitterness in ever-widening circles; the few programs for social

such as land reform were running out of steam; and there was increasing evidence that economic development policies, focusing on export-oriented industrialization and plantation agriculture, along with the suppression of free labor unions meant a net loss to wage workers or small cultivators displaced by corporate farms. By 1976 most policies were not legitimating the regime, they were stimulating opposition to it. Furthermore, Marcos’s luck seemed to be running out: world com-

justice,

modity prices were sagging, especially for sugar. Gabriel Almond and G. Bingham Powell, Comparative (Boston: Little, Brown, 1978), 378ff. 2

Politics: System, Process

and Policy

332

Filipino Politics

For a regime that had abandoned

more than

thirty-hve years of

development to halt mass political mobilization, the situation beginning to emerge in the mid-1970s must have been dismaying. The abolition of relatively free elections, and thus any legitimate means of protest, alongside increasingly exploitative economic policy, actually constitutional

intensihed opposition mobilization-, often along class

lines.

By the

late

—

1970s the resurgent Communist Party of the Philippines supposed to have been crushed by martial law was organizing students, workers, and peasants at an increasing pace. Even when elections were allowed, hrst in 1978, fraud was so blatant as to trigger more widespread frustration and cynicism rather than legitimacy for the regime. In fact, principled opposition to those in power had become better organized and more deeply committed than at any time in Philippine history. Such an opposition was led not only by the Communists but by progressive clerics and secular nationalists who did not mobilize support through long-standing patron-client networks, as more experienced opposition politicians continued to do. By the end of the 1970s NPA/

—

AFP

clashes were

becoming much more frequent

in

Mindanao,

Negros, and Samar, as well as the traditional strongholds of northern and southern Luzon and Panay. And for the hrst time revolutionary guerrilla warfare was coordinated with urban political action, through the National Democratic Front. The president was only dimly aware of the extent of his difficulties because of one of the debilitating consequences of authoritarianism: a lack of honest feedback. But he did recognize the importance of building regime legitimacy and balancing his growing reliance on the military, which he did through what he called “normalization.” This process was not a real return to parliamentary democracy, however, because Marcos was fundamentally unwilling to relinquish any of his autocratic power, especially in naming a successor, despite signs of his failing health. And because the oil shock of 1979 and a further sag in the prices of Philippine exports made economic development more difficult than ever to accomplish, legitimacy had no basis in economic policy either.

Decline in support for the regime was evident on all sides in the early 1980s. The formation of a militant, antigovernment labor federation,

Mayo Uno,

1980 sealed the collapse of the government attempt at corporatism in the trade union held. The hnancial crisis of 1981, in which many crony corporations were saved only by massive new government credit, intensihed the friction with the old economic elite, which strongly resented the bailouts. By 1983, largely as a result the Kilusang

in

333

Conclusion

of foreign pressure, Marcos had sacrificed a few of the weaker cronies and made feeble efforts to restore ties with established business leaders. At the same time, however, he actually narrowed the ruling coalition by granting more power within the ruling party, the KBL, to the wealthiest cronies, Cojuangco and Benedicto. By the 1980s the state had clearly lost the autonomy from the dominant class apparent in the early 1970s. The dominant class itself had changed from the pre-martial law elite of wealth to the New Society oligarchy, which was led by the Marcos family. The state, brushing aside the economic rationality of the technocrats which had determined policy in the early 1970s, became the creature of this oligarchy except on those occasions when state policy was dictated by need for foreign credit. Even then the widely announced “dismantling” of the sugar and coconut monopolies did not significantly diminish crony power. The state served the interests of the superpatron and his closest clients the essence of neopatrimonialism.^ It was in the midst of already declining legitimacy and noticeable regime aging that Marcos had to deal with the challenge from a leading oppositionist, Benigno Aquino, who announced he would return from exile in August 1983. The circumstances of Aquino’s assassination quickly focused suspicion on Marcos and his military and dissolved most

—

—

surviving remnants of support for the regime. Given the president’s health problem, which created occasional incapacity, the growth of the

NPA, which

and the declining ability of the regime to make decisions, the question was. How did Marcos survive as long as he did? He sometimes succumbed to clumsy repression, especially of the Left, but he also allowed greater freedom for middle-class and elite accelerated in 1984,

opposition. Despite the government’s severe financial difficulties, he

spent a larger share of resources on cultivating political clients, especially leading up to the 1984 and 1986 elections. Whatever his domestic moves, however, indispensable to his survival was his persistent, even expanded, support from abroad, though the increased leverage of both the United States and the IMF/World Bank on Philippine

government decisions made Marcos most uncomfortable. That leverage was used to push for reforms that would have decisively weakened the ruling coalition, especially the Ver faction of the military and the crony empires in coconuts and sugar. Marcos’s stubborn resistance to such reforms was thus not surprising. That such reforms could have Christopher Clapham, Third World Wisconsin Press, 1985), 47—48, 3

Politics

—An Introduction (Madison:

University of

334

Filipino Politics

led to a peaceful, constitutional transition to a successor regime was

The

unlikely.

logic of intervention

IMF involvement. One American demand

argued for more direct U.S. and

which Marcos somewhat surprisingly did respond in late 1985 was to call an early presidential and (especially) vice-presidential elections. Marcos saw an opportunity in November to exploit opposition disunity but was blind to his own weakness, even after Aquino and Laurel joined forces. The government’s spectacular election fraud in February 1986 was not sufficient to intimidate Corazon Aquino, who claimed victory on the basis of the NAMFREL count. But she might never have savored that victory had it not been for an open split in the military. A plot by Enrile and the Reform the Armed Forces Movement (to which the United States was privy) was discovered, so that the young officers involved had to move prematurely against Gen. Fabian Ver and Marcos, enlisting General Ramos in the process. The rebels’ military weakness was more than compensated for by the strength of hundreds of thousands of Cory’s civilian supporters, who surrounded them in the streets. Aquino’s impromptu inauguration, followed by the flight of the Marcos clan and leading cronies, was the ultimate humiliation for a man who had maneuvered for years to prevent her husband Ninoy from taking power. That goal had been one of the premises for the declaration of martial law. In fact, in a number of respects Marcos to

achieved the very opposite of his intentions. Stability was, of course, a prime concern of Marcos and his foreign backers. It was a central purpose of martial law. Long-term stability,

however,

enough

rests

on maintaining

to withstand social change, that

is,

able to hear,

and capable process, and

demands of an increasingly participant mass The constitutional framework up to 1972, though usually re-

respond creatively public.

institutions legitimate

to the

sponsive only to the interests of the economic elite, did have the potential for adjusting to increasing mass demands, and showed signs

of doing so in the last few years before martial law. The Marcos imposition of martial rule in 1972 temporarily bolstered the state’s capability to make and implement policy, but essentially it crippled any

respond to interests outside the state structure. The failure of feedback robbed the regime of information about the depth and breadth and precise focus of discontent for which a fascination with survey research was no real substitute. As implementation failed to meet the needs of supposed benehciaries, as rhetoric was not matched with deeds, regime legitimacy lagged. Failure to meet an-

ability to

nounced

goals

is

pandemic

in political systems,

but

if

legitimate proc-

Conclusion esses exist for

changing top

335

such shortcomings do After 1972 the Philippines

political leadership,

not threaten the very structure of the state. had no such legitimate processes, and so Marcos produced political instability more profound than anything the country had ever known. Marcos recognized the importance of political culture to secure his “revolution from the center.” He attempted to change Filipino values and attitudes through posters, the controlled media, and the launching of a new ideology. His actions did not reinforce his words, however, and by the late 1970s nobody was listening. In fact, his policies did much more to stimulate ideologies hostile to his regime than those which were supportive. His rape of constitutional democracy certainly helped deepen and broaden commitment to its forms and processes. He was also responsible for bringing Catholic liberation theology and Marxism to center stage in Filipino political culture. Two ideologies in some degree complementary, both containing a strong thrust for basic social change, were what Marcos actually promoted, not his own. Their critique of capitalism and authoritarianism became more accurate day by day to many Filipinos faced with Marcos-led exploitation and oppression.

The same Marcos

provided new legitimacy for dissident ideologies also contributed to unintended social change. An important goal of the New Society was to undermine or crush any mass-based political organizations whose leaders the president could not control. But as patronage without free elections proved less responsive to even the most modest demands of clients, just as Marcos policies were creating more hardship at the mass level, the only possible organizational channels to mobilize discontent were underground or disguised (usually in religious garb). In either case such organizations elaborated on a sense of common plight among ordinary people which exploitative policies had hrst implanted, and thus ran counter to preservation of the patron-client structure. Even land reform, designed in part to undermine dissident organizations by benehting small farmers, exacerbated landlord-tenant conflict and thus contributed to the break-up in patron-client ties and ultimately the reemergence of clandestine opposition in several land reform areas. Since the late 1970s these processes have helped create a sense of class consciousness among peasants and workers which, though still limited, is far greater than ever before. Thus the vertical linkages in Philippine society, so long the key to elite control, were substantially weakened. The most extreme manifestation of the breakdown of the patronclient system was the appearance of great numbers of armed revolutionaries. The expansion of the revolutionary movement, now active in policies that

336

Filipino Politics

almost

all

seventy-five provinces,

is

the

supreme irony

in the

Marcos

he declared martial law ostensibly to prevent it. Communist party leadership provided an alternative model of development to millions of Filipinos who saw no livelihood, nor personal security, nor hope in the economic and political institutions spawned by Marcos. The Marcos impact on the political role of the economic elite is perhaps less well understood but no less important. Flis effort to legacy, because

weaken the old

elite,

the “oligarchy,” in the early years of martial law

was hnally defeated by the shortsighted rapaciousness of those he and Imelda tried to promote as a new economic elite, the “cronies.” Even billions of pesos in government bailouts could not save some of them in the crisis of the early 1980s; it only sharpened the hostility of the less favored old elite and triggered their political activism, especially after the death of Benigno Aquino, at a level unprecedented. Determined not to be caught powerless again, as in 1972, the economic elite is now more open, direct, and modern in its style of political activity than ever

Aquino regime. The Marcos impact on the composition of the dominant classes may also have been only transitory. For one, top cronies flew with him to before.

Its

influence

is

extensive in the

Hawaii. Furthermore, the increased role for the self-consciously Chinese businessman, under his protection, will not last. Conversely, his

on the landed

and corn still allowed most of those expropriated to transfer their assets and reemerge as operators of plantations for export. Landlords have moved into commerce and industry in the last decade, but that has been in train for more than a generation, and land reform had only a minor impact on it. The subordination of sugar and coconut planters to two powerful Marcos cronies persisted longer, but the planters will likely restore most of the former influence of that elite through a reestablished Congress. The unprecedented effort of the Philippine Commission on Good Government to ferret out and expropriate the ill-gotten gain of the Marcos family and their cronies will help restore the pre-1972 character of the dominant class; even the Lopez business empire is being reestablished. The commission is unlikely to achieve complete success, however. Some of the wealthiest of the Marcos friends, such as Benedicto and Cojuangco, became so intricately involved in the affairs of well-established corporations that they made numerous alliances with the old elite. In a few years they will probably reemerge in a reduced but more secure economic role, just as the less ambitious cronies of earlier presiattack

elite in rice

dents did.

Another

economic elite, the extent of their the broader question of Philippine auton-

characteristic of the

foreign linkages, relates to

Conclusion

337

omy. In the early days of martial law President Marcos sang the nationalist song; he diversified diplomatic relations, talked of “self-reliance” for the military, and demanded rental for and control over U.S. bases. But the ultimate consequence of his socioeconomic and military policies was to give the IMF/World Bank and the international banking community more direct influence over the policy process than any foreign entity had had since the 1950s and to open the armed forces to American intervention to a degree comparable to that in the days of the Huks. In other words, he set back the slow evolution of Philippine autonomy by more than a generation even as the popular frustrations at growing dependency were stimulating a nationalism more intense and more widely supported than ever before. Nationalists initially had an important place in President Aquino’s government, but so did generals and businessmen with close ties to the United States. The prospects for greater autonomy are dim. The debt trap, in which the Philippines was more deeply enmeshed than other Southeast Asian countries, was blamed by Marcos and even some of his critics on ineluctable world forces. The intensihcation of dependency was, however, also a consequence of the regime’s own actions. An increasing reliance on foreign credits for economic expansion was (1) designed to free Marcos from the clutches of the oligarchy by assuring disproportionate resources for his friends, who were more interested in quick proht than in stable investment; (2) a result of the value orientations of the technocrats who made policy and were respected in international banking circles; and (3) by the early 1980s a necessity because of the vast hemorrhaging of domestic capital, a flight to the security of foreign shores first indulged by Marcos’s foes and later by his cronies which is inadequately quantified but generally known to be of major proportions. Certainly the rapid rise in world oil prices created a need to borrow, and world bankers adopted aggressive but Thailand, tactics to recycle petrodollars at favorable interest rates economically comparable to the Philippines in most respects, had the sense to restrict borrowings in the early 1980s when interest rates jumped and thus avoided the Philippine crisis caused by pa-

—

trimonialism.

In sum, the Marcos legacy for the Philippines was decay rather than though Marcos did stimulate modernization, political development often in ways unintended. Simple greed and lust for power at the top

—

explain the failure of the

New

Society to a considerable degree, but the

whole enterprise was doomed from the start. The first reason is that there was too strong a democratic spirit in Philippine society for it to submit to an inefficient and inconsistent dictator. Second, the wealth

338

Filipino Politics

and influence of the old elite was too great inexperienced and overambitious cronies into a new,

more

be displaced by the mostly whom Marcos tried to turn

to

cooperative, oligarchy. (The conservative autocrat,

moreover dared not mobilize mass support against the old wealth.) Third, the development policies of the New Society, exploitative in the extreme, inevitably undermined the very patronage networks on which Marcos’s power depended, by stirnulating increasingly class-conscious mass mobilization. Fourth, the bureaucracy on which policy implementation depended was poorly paid, weak and corrupt, excessively politicized for decades, and under neopatrimonialism could not become otherwise, yet the developmental autocrat relied on policy output for legitimacy. Fifth, a military indulged by a patron dependent upon them could not maintain order in the countryside, inevitably becoming undisciplined, abusive, and ineffective. Sixth, Marcos increasingly antagonized the most powerful social institution in the country, the Catholic Church. Finally, a policy anchored on increased foreign borrowing and negotiating for that

more

U.S. military aid flew in the face of a nationalism

had been growing stronger

the mass level

—since the

—beyond

late 1960s.

intellectuals to business

That policy focused regime

and

atten-

on foreign patrons and increased the tendency to ignore domestic demands. In sum, Filipinos were more democratic, more nationalist, and possessed more firmly entrenched old wealth than Marcos realized. His monstrous miscalculations, exploitation, and kleptocratic ways will have profound consequences for decades to come. Is President Aquino headed for the same fate? If one were to endorse the pessimistic projections of her late husband, one would have to say “yes.”^ Certainly the consequences of the Marcos era greatly comtion

And many

understood events in 1986 as miracles and are expecting more. Aquino’s extraordinary charisma will give her personal legitimacy for two or three more years, even in the absence of policy success, and she is reinforced to an unprecedented degree by the Catholic Church, but the remaining challenges are tremendous. Her economic policies, especially those for foreign investment and borrowing, agricultural development, and industrial wages, so far do not differ greatly in conception from those of Marcos and could have some of the same consequences. Aquino also faces more severe man-resource ratios than did Marcos in 1972. Thus to allow population growth rates to rise again, or even to neglect efforts to help them fall which seems likely will be disastrous. The uneven pace of plicate

her

—

“^See

1984,

task.

F^'ilipinos

—

Spencer Sherman, “A Conversation with Benigno

p. 22.

A(\\i\no,"

Mother Jones, January

Conclusion

339

and questionable commitment to land reform, even while trying to keep urban wages down, is not indicative of a regime likely to gain legitimacy by pushing for greater social equity. In

the ruling elite seems to be promoting the same interests as did regimes in the 1960s. The euphoria that followed the return of competitive patronage politics, fact,

the overwhelming victory for government candidates in the May 1987 elections, and the temporary surge of anticommunist vigilantes seem to

have blinded the elite to the fact that, unlike in 1953, they still face a powerful revolutionary movement capable, under the proper circumstances, of growing more powerful still. Unlike 1953 also, the Aquino administration is confronted with a politicized military alienated

from the

civilian leadership. Alienation

stems from the fact that (1) disproportionately Ilocano officers face a dominantly Tagalog regime; (2) Marcos continues to fuel that alienation with cash; (3) the imposition of “reform and discipline,” which was the rhetoric of General Ileto, threatened the still entrenched extra-legal incomes of key officers; (4) Congress again exercises some supervision over the military through appropriations and conhrmation of appointments, a role deeply resented by the military even before martial law; (5) military salaries that have dropped in real terms for several years until very recently showed no signs of substantial improvements; and (6) finally, and most important, the military was given a political role by Marcos, then seized for itself an even greater one in February 1986, and hnds it difficult to retreat to the subordinate status that the constitution requires. If a sense of shared interest should develop between a disgruntled segment of the economic elite and the officer corps in the face of a reinvigorated insurgency, then the president’s task of controlling the military will become even more difficult. This tandem would deter progress toward land reform. circle

leading to a

new

And

if

it

does,

it

would

initiate a vicious

era of political decay.

President Aquino has displayed a high level of personal competence that only her acquaintances

had expected. She

showed a modesty, mass demands that set

early

personal integrity, and seeming responsiveness to

her apart from her predecessor. Her hrst challenge was to transform her loosely structured administration into a more effective one and to persuade the economic elite, from which she springs, as well as the military, to be responsive themselves to wide-ranging popular demands. She started with an electoral victory and a peaceful manifestation of People Power against the tanks which created overwhelming democratic legitimacy in the eyes of the public (something Marcos never achieved) and a new sense of national pride among Filipinos

340

Filipino Politics

was a good start. But she did not institutionalize her initial beyond a return to constituassets. She proclaimed no clear goals tionalism established authority over no political party, and made no attempt to replace patronage with issue-oriented politics. She allowed corruption and military abuse of the populace to reemerge, indicating that she could control neither the armed forces, nor the civil bureaucracy, nor miscreant elements in her own family. Perhaps the tasks were Just too great. Perhaps the increased American pressure for militant anticommunism deflected her from earlier reformist tendencies, which may have been more fragile than hrst thought. In any case accommodation to a politicized military, to help hght their foes, was generally.

It

—

—

and family and endorsed by her strongest supporters in the Catholic hierarchy and the U.S. government. By the end of 1987 the Aquino administration offered more effective protection of American interests than had Marcos in 1985. But the neocolonial power was still somewhat uneasy about the consistent with the perceived interests of elite friends

future.

The Marcos

era revealed that in a society with high political mobilization, a “soft” state that lacks constitutional or procedural legitimacy has great difficulty compensating for that lack through policy, especially

if

designed to meet the society’s needs. Maintenance of neopatrimonial or neocolonial styles of rule greatly increases the chance of failure. Not only does economic development fail, but the policies are not

development fails as well. Even regime in such a society would prob-

institutionalization essential to political

however, a ably fail, both economically and politically, if despite constitutional processes it did not remain open to demands from all sectors and frame policies that serve the interests not only of entrepreneurs but of peasants and workers as well. Responsiveness is essential to the maintenance of democratic legitimacy, but is undermined by heavy reliance on foreign support. There lies the essence of Corazon Aquino’s ultimate challenge, which she is in danger of failing. with

initial legitimacy,

—

—

Suggested Readings

Chapter

On

1

the Spanish period and the Revolution: Pedro de Achutegui and Miguel

Bernad, Religious Revolution in the Philippines, vol. 1 (Manila: Ateneo de Manila, 1960); Renato Constantino, The Philippines: A Past Revisited (Quezon City: Tala, 1975); Reynaldo Ileto, “Rizal and the Underside of Philippine History,” in David Wyatt and Alexander Woodside, eds.. Moral Order and the Question of Change: Essays on Southeast Asian Thought, Yale University Southeast Asian Studies, Monograph Series no. 24 (New Haven, 1982), pp. 274—337; Alfred McCoy and E. C. de Jesus, eds., Philippine Social History: Global Trade and Local Transformations (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1982); Dennis Roth, The Friar Estates of the Philippines (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1977); and John Schumacher, Revolutionary Clergy: the Filipino Clergy and the Nationalist Movement, 1850—1903 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 1981).

On

American period and beyond: Renato and Letizia Constantino, The Philippines: The Continuing Past (Quezon City: Foundation for Nationalist StudSocial Change in a Late Coloies, 1978); Daniel Doeppers, Manila, 1900—1941 nial Metropolis (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 1984); Lewis Gleeck, the

—

General History of the Philippines: The American Half Century ( 1898—1 946) (Manila: Historical Conservation Society, 1984); J. Ralston Hayden, The Philippines: A Study in National Development

Aquinos of Tarlac:

An

(New York: Macmillan,

1947); Nick Joaquin, The

Essay on History as Three Generations (Manila:

Cacho Her-

manns, 1983); and Peter Stanley, A Nation in the Making: The Philippines and United States, 1899—1921 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1974).

the

Chapter 2

On

ideology and values of the dominant Filipino subculture: Compadrinazgo: Ritual Kinship in the Philippines (DeKalb: Northern

Donn Illinois

Hart,

Uni-

Lande, “Networks and Groups in SE Asia: Some Observations on the Group Theory of Politics,” American Political Science Review 67 (1973), 103—27; Richard Stone, Philippine Urbanization: The Politics of Public and Private Property in Greater Manila, Northern Illinois University Center for versity Press, 1977); Carl

342

Suggested Readings

Southeast Asian Studies, Special Report no. 6 (DeKalb, 1973); and Third World Studies Center, Marxism in the Philippines: Marx Centennial Lectures (Quezon City, 1984).

On

minority subcultures: Benito

Lim and Manuel

Bonifacio,

“The Chinese

Group Relations in Asia and Oceania (Paris: UNESCO, 1979), pp. 145—72; Charles McCarthy, ed., Philippine-Chinese Profile: Essays and Studies (Manila: Pagkakaisa Sa Pag-unlad, 1974); and Samuel K. Tan, The Filipino Muslim Armed Struggle: 1900—1972 (Manila: Pilipinas Foundation, in the Philippines,” in Trends in Ethnic

1977).

On A

political socialization:

Rosalinda Pineda-Ofreneo, The Manipulated Press:

History of Philippine Journalism since

1945 (Manila: Cacho Hermanns, 1984).

Chapter 3

On

economic conditions: Cristina David and Randolph Barker, Agricultural Growth in japan, Taiwan, Korea and the Philippines (Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1979), and Jose Encarnacion et al., Philippine Economic Problems in Perspective, University of the Philippines Institute of Economic Development and Research (Quezon City, 1976). On elite composition: Dante Simbulan, “A Study of the Socio-Economic Elite in Philippine Politics and Government, 1946—1963” (diss., Australian National University, 1965), and Kunio Yoshihara, Philippine Industrialization: Foreign and Domestic Capital (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1985). On change in the patron-client system: Kit Machado, “Continuity and Change in Philippine Factionalism,” in Frank Belloni and Dennis C. Beller, eds.. Faction Politics: Political Parties and Factionalism in Comparative Perspective (Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio, 1978); M. Cristina Blanc Szanton, “The Uses of Compadrazgo: Views from a Philippine Town,” Philippine Sociological Review, 27 (1979), 161—80; and William Wolters, Politics, Patronage and Class Conflict in Central Luzon (Quezon City: New Day, 1984). On socioeconomic structure: Randolph David et al.. Political Economy of Philippine Commodities (Quezon City: Third World Studies Center, University of the Philippines,

1983); Brian Fegan, Rent-Capitalism in the Philippines,

The

Philippines in the Third World Papers Series no. 25 (Quezon City: Third World Studies Center, University of the Philippines, February 1981); Benedict Kerkvliet, “Classes

and

Class Relations in a Philippine Village,” Philippine So-

Review 28 (January— December 1980), 31—50; Akira Takashashi, Land and Peasant in Central Luzon (Tokyo: Institute of Developing Economies, 1969); and David Szanton, Estancia in Transition: Economic Growth in a Rural Philippine Community (Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, Ateneo de Manila ciological

University, 1981).

Chapter 4 General: David Wurfel, “The Philippines,” in George McT Kahin, ed. Governments and Politics of Southeast Asia, 2d ed. (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1964), pp. 679-772.

Suggested Readings

On

political institutions: O.

343

D. Corpuz, The Bureaucracy in the Philippines

(Manila: Institute of Public Administration, University of the Philippines,

“The Philippine Supreme Court: A Study of Judicial Attributes, Attitudes and Decision-Making,” in Glendon Schubert and David Danelski, Comparative Judicial Behavior (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), pp. 157—96; and Robert Stauffer, “The Philippine Congress: The 1957); Abelardo Samonte,

Causes of Institutional Change,” Sage Papers 90-024 (Beverly Hills, 1975). On personality and politics: Renato Constantino, The Making of a Filipino (Quezon City: Malaya, 1969), and Frances Starner, Magsaysay and the Philippine Peasantry (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1961). On political sociology and change: Amando Doronila, “The Transformation of Patron-Client Relations and Its Political Consequences in Postwar Philippines,” /owma/ of Southeast Asian Studies 16 (March 1985), 99—116; Thomas Nowak, “The Philippines before Martial Law: A Study in Politics and Administration,” American Political Science Review 71 (1977), 522—39; and Thomas Nowak and Kay Snyder, “Clientelist Politics in the Philippines: Integration or Instability?” American Political Science Review 68 (September 1974), 1 147—70.

Chapter 5 For annual reviews of the accomplishments of each ministry (the official view), see Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook (Manila: Fookien Times Publishing). For

official

views of the

New

Society:

Ferdinand Marcos, Todays Revolution:

Democracy (Manila, 1971); Notes on the New Society of the Philippines (Manila, 1973); and Towards a New Partnership: The Filipino Ideology (Manila: Marcos Foundation, 1983). General: Froilan Bacungan, ed.. The Powers of the Philippine President (Quezon

Law

Center, 1983); Carolina Hernandez, “The Role of the Military in Contemporary Philippine Society,” Diliman Review City: University of the Philippines

32 (January— February 1984), 16—24; Jeffrey Race, “Whither the Philippines?” Institute of Current World Affairs, November 30, 1975; Robert Stauffer, “Philippine Authoritarianism: Framework for Peripheral Development,” Affairs 50 (1977), 365—86; and Stauffer, “The Philippine Political Economy: (Dependent) State Capitalism in the Corporatist Mode,” in Richard Higgott and Richard Robison, eds.. Southeast Asia: Essays in the Political Economy of Structural Change (London: Routledge Sc Kegan Paul, 1985), pp. 241—65.

Chapter 6

On

Muslims and policy toward them: Lim Joo-Jock and Vani

S., eds..

Armed

Separatism in Southeast Asia, Part 4, “Philippines” (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies,^ 1984), pp. 151—216; Lela G. Noble,

Liberation Front in the Philippines,” Pacific Affairs 49

“The Moro National

(Fall 1976),

405—24; Datu

Michael O. Mastura, Muslim Filipino Experience: A Collection of Essays (Manila: Ministry of Muslim Affairs, 1984); and Jaime Dumarpa, “How Maranao Possess Land,” Salsilah: A Journal of Philippine Ethnic Studies 4 (1984), 34—42. On agrarian conditions: The CDC and Mindanao (London: Parliamentary

344

Suggested Readings

Human

Rights Group, 1983); Benedict Kerkvliet, “Peasant Society and Unrest Prior to the Huk Revolution in the Philippines,” Asian Studies 9 (August 1971), 164—213; Antonio Ledesma, Perla Makil, and Virginia Miralao, eds.. Second

View from the Paddy (Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, Ateneo de Manila University, 1983); Antonio Ledesma, Landless Workers and Rice Farmers: Peasant Subclasses under Agrarian Reform in Two Philippine Villages (Los Banos: International Rice Research Institute, 1982); Frank Lynch, ed.. View from the

Paddy (Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, Ateneo de Manila University, 1972); and Mahar Mangahas et al.. Tenants, Lessees, Owners: Welfare Implications of Tenure Change (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1976). On agrarian policy: Benedict Kerkvliet, “Land Reform in the Philippines since the Marcos Coup,” Pacific Affairs 47 (Fall 1974), 286—304; William Overholt, “Land Reform in the Philippines,” Asian Survey 16 (May 1976), 427—51; J. Eliseo Rocamora and Corazon Conti Panganiban, Rural Development Strategies: The Philippine Case (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University, Institute of Philippine Culture, 1975); The Agrarian Reform Program: A Decade after P.D. 2 and 27 (Los Banos: Agrarian Reform Institute Advisory Council Technical Committee, 1983); and Third World Studies Program, Political Economy of Philippine Commodities (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 1983).

Chapter 7 For foreign policy frameworks: Barbara and Stephen Salmore,

Regimes and Foreign

Hermann,

eds..

Why

Policy,” in

“Political

Maurice East, Stephen Salmore, and Charles

Nations Act: Theoretical Perspectives for Comparative Foreign

Christopher Clapham, Third World Politics: An Introduction (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985), chap. 6; and Bahgat Khorany, How Foreign Policy Decisions Are Made in the Third World Policy Studies (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1978);

(Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1986).

Eor annual reviews of Philippine foreign policy, usually by the minister: Fookien Times Philippine Yearbook (Manila: Eookien Times Publishing). For earlier scholarly overviews of Philippine foreign relations or aspects thereof: Purihcacion Quisumbing, Beijing- Manila Detente, Major Issues:

A

Study

(Quezon City: University of the Philippines Law Center, 1983); Charles Morrison and Astri Suhrke, Strategies of Survival: The in

China-ASEAN

Relations

Foreign Policy Dilemmas of Smaller Asian States (New York: St. Martins, 1978), chap. 8; Salvador Lopez, “Trends in Philippine Foreign Policy,” in M. Rajaret-

nam,

ed.. Trends in the Philippines II (Singapore: Institute

of Southeast Asian

Robyn Lim, “The Philippines and the ‘Dependency Debate’: A Preliminary Case Study,'’ J ournal of Contemporary Asia 8:2 (1978), 197—209; and Gerald Sussman, “Macapagal, the Sabah Claim and Maphilindo: The Politics of Penetration,” /owma/ of Contemporary Asia 13:2 (1983), 210—28. For varying views on international economic relations and policy: Gerardo Sicat, New Economic Directions in the Philippines (Manila: National Economic Development Authority, 1974); chapters by Dante Canlas and Edita Tan, with commentaries, in Alexander Magno, ed.. Nation in Crisis: The University Inquires Studies, 1978);

Suggested Readings

345

(Quezon City; University of the Philippines Press, 1984), pp. 174—231; Augusto Cesar Espiritu et ah, Philippine Perspectives on Multinational Corporations (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Law Center, 1978); into the Present

Norman Owen,

ed..

The Philippine Economy and

the

United States: Studies in Past

and Present Interactions, University of Michigan Center for South and Southeast Asian Studies, (Ann Arbor, 1983); and Edberto Villegas, Studies in Philippine Political Economy {MdiVuIdi'. Silangan, 1983). For different positions on the bases; A Debate on the New Military Bases Agreement between the Philippines and the United States: Senator Jovito R. Salonga and US. Embassy Charge dAffaires Donald Toussaint (Makati; Bishops-Businessmen’s

Conference, 1979), and “U.S. Military Bases Chronicle 89 (April 1983).

in the Philippines,” Southeast Asia

Chapter 8

On

the role of the Church: H.

S.

Beltran and Stella Marie Tirol, “Interview

with Cardinal Sin,” Diliman Review 33 (March— April 1985), 25—29; John J. Carroll and John T. Keane, “Philippine Social Conditions and the Church,”

(October 1970), 25—41; and Robert Youngblood, “Basic Christian Communities and the Church-State Conflict,” Diliman Review 33 (November— December 1985), 43—47.

Solidarity 5

On the reformist opposition; Herman Laurel, “Aquilino Pimentel; a Candidate,” Z)z/m\>os\XAonC Diliman Review 31 (July— August 1983),

1,

11-16.

On

the Communists: Casto Alejandrino, Jesus Lava, Fred Saulo, and Luis

Taruc, “The

Huks

in Retrospect;

A Failed Bid

for Power,” Solidarity 102 (1985),

64-103.

Chapter 9 Belinda Aquino, “The Philippines under Marcos,” Current History 81 (1982), 160—63, 182; Raul de Guzman, “The Evolution of Filipino Political Institutions: Prospects for Normalization,” Philippine Journal of Public Administration 26 (July—October 1982), 205—18; Carl Lande, “Philippine Prospects after Martial Law,” Eoreign Affairs 59 (Summer 1981), 1 147—68; Report of an Amnesty International Mission to the Republic of the Philippines, 11—28 November 1981 (London;

Amnesty International, Yorker, March 26, 1979,

1982); Robert Shaplen, “Letter pp. 56—101;

and David

J.

from Manila,” New

Steinberg, The Philippines:

A

Singular and Plural Place (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1982).

Chapter 10

On

the Marcos era; Jose Abueva,

delivered

at First

“The

Filipino Nation in Crisis,”

National Science Congress,

Quezon

City,

paper

November 17—19,

1983; Belinda Aquino, “Political Violence in the Philippines: Aftermath of the

346

Suggested Readings

Aquino Assassination,” Southeast Asian Affairs 1984 (Singapore, 1985), pp. 249— 65; John Bresnan, ed. Crisis in the Philippines: The Marcos Era and Beyond (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986); Alex Magno, “The Succession Crisis,” Diliman Review 32 (March— April 1984), 3—8; Robert Manning, “The Philippine Crisis,” Foreign Affairs 63 (Winter 1984—85), 392—410; Rene Ofreneo, “The Philippines: Debt Crisis and the Politics of Succession,” Philippine Sociological Review 32 (1984), 7—18; Fred Poole and Max Vanzi, Revolution in the Philippines: The United States in a Hall of Cracked Mirrors (New York: McGrawHill, 1984); Bienvenido A. Tan, Jr., The Public Has the Right to Know: A Behind the Scenes Story of the Investigation into the Facts Surrounding the Murder of Benigno S. Aquino, Jr. (Manila: Bookmark, 1985); The Situation and Outlook in the Philippines, Hearings before the Subcommittee on Asian and Pacihc Affairs of the U.S. House Foreign Affairs Committee, 98th Cong., 2d sess., September 1984; and World Bank, The Philippines: An Agenda for Adjustment and Growth, Report no. 5258-PH, November 30, 1984. '

On the post-Marcos era:

Richard Kessler, U.S. Policy toward the Philippines after Marcos, Stanley Foundation Policy Paper 37 (Muscatine, Iowa, 1986); Carl Lande and Richard Hooley, “Aquino Takes Charge,” Foreign Affairs 64 (Summer 1986), 1087—1107; Alex Magno, Conrado de Quiros, and Rene Ofreneo, The February Revolution: Three Views (Quezon City: Karrel, 1986); Frances Starner. The Rising Sun and Tangled Roots (a Philippine Profile) (Hong Kong: Christian Conference of Asia, 1986); Eduardo Tadem, “The Crisis in Philippine Agriculture,” Kasarinlan: Philippine Quarterly of Third World Studies 1:2 (1985), 35—40; Eduardo Tadem, “The February Uprising in Historical Perspective,” Diliman Review 34:2 (1986), 7—12; The Philippines and the United States: A Report at Wingspread (New York: Asia Society, 1986); “The Philipon a Conference pines: Domestic Challenge, International Consequences,” Proceedings of a Conference at Yale University, April 5, 1986, CAFC Report 12 (May—June 1986); and The Philippines: Facing the Future An Assessment of the Prospects for the Philippines and for Philippine-American Relations (New York: Asia Society, 1986). .

.

.

—

Index

Abad-Santos, Pedro, 224 Abad-Santos, Vicente, 187, 188

Abueva,

108n AFL-CIO, Free Trade Union Institute, 298 Aglipay, Gregorio, 8, 49 Agrarian reform, 101, 107 under the U.S., 9 under Quezon, 167 under Magsaysay, 15, 167; Agricultural Tenancy Act, 167 under Macapagal, 16, 55, 65, 167 under Marcos, 165-176, 331; amortizing owners, 168, 172-174; Certificate of Land Transfer (CLT) Jose, 107,

holders, 168, 173; cooperatives, 170, 171; corporate farming, 173175; Department/Ministry of Agrarian Reform. See Political institutions since 1935, Executive; “just

compensation,” 109; land re-

form

(transfer/redistribution), 18,

55, 165, 166, 227, 230, 231, 267; landlords, 168—172, 175, 176; “Masagana 99,” 171-173, 257, 288;

motives, 166, 335, 336; “reverse land reform,” 176; rice and corn tenants, 166, 168, 169, 171, 172, 174, 175; scope, 167

under Aquino, 310, 314, 315, 321-324, 339; Cabinet Action Committee, 321 Agrava, Corazon, 227, 290 Agrava Board, 227, 289-291, 296 Agriculture and forestry: bananas, 53, 174, 212; coconuts, 53, 166, 175, 239, 240, 258-260, 288, 291, 292, 333, 336; corn, 53, 173—175; forest resources, 3; kaingin, 3; land frontier, 60, 61; plantation agriculture, 53,

165; rice 53, 61, 171, 173-175, 266, 288, 326; sugar, 5, 53, 57, 166, 173, 174, 239, 288, 291, 292, 321, 322,

326, 331, 333, 336; United Coconut Oil Mills Co., 259, 260. See also Elites, cronies; Victorias Milling Co., 173 Aguinaldo, Emilio, 6-8, 24 Alingal, Godofredo, 263 Alonto, Domacao, 31 Alsa Masa. See Anticommunism, Vigilantes

Alvarez, Marsman, 125 Anti-Bases Coalition, 188

Anticommunism,

110, 127, 146, 166, 181, 211, 217, 223, 324; Philippine Anti-

communist League, 316; vigilantes, 316—318, 320, 339; World Anticommunist League, 316 Aquino-Cojuangco family, 166, 281 Aquino, Benigno, Aquino, Benigno,

Sr.,

242

Jr., 18, 20, 21, 42, 100, 131, 132, 199, 205-211, 242,

244, 246, 247, 251, 259, 270, 275277, 279, 307, 308, 333, 334; assassination, 202, 275, 277, 278, 280-282, 289, 296, 333, 336; charisma of, 206, 208, 275 Aquino, Butz, 165, 293, 294 Aquino, Corazon, 51, 165, 203, 296— 302; charisma of, 319, 324; president, 303, 304, 306-318, 321-324, 334, 338-340

Cojuangco, Jose, Jr., 307 Cojuangco, Jose, Sr., 259 Aquino government, 165, 175, 176, 308, 309, 314, 315, 318, 336, 337, 339 Arabic, 30 Araneta, Gregorio III, 272 Araneta, Salvador, 108 Armacost, Michael, 283

348

Index

Armed

Forces of the Philippines (AFP),

19, 80, 113, 118, 140, 141, 144, 145,

153, 164, 176, 184, 226, 229, 232,

235, 240-242, 247, 256, 263, 265, 271, 272, 274, 290, 337 budget, 80, 140, 145, 239, 266; pay, 141, 148n, 317, 339 counter-insurgency policies, 140, 312, 315-317, 332; abuses, 264, 267, 268, 281, 294, 316. See also Human

of Department (Ministry) of National Defense 15, 141, 148, 239, 268; high command, 20 rights, violations

economic

role, 143, 146, 174,

266; Presidential Security Command, 147, 149, 150, 290; values of, 177 Armitage, Richard, 292

Arroyo, Joker, 308 Asia Foundation, 65, 298, 302 Asian Development Bank, 194 Asian Institute of Management, 244 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), 47, 52, 54 140, 239 Australia, 44

Autonomy,

national, 39, 196, 201, 202,

274, 309, 337 Avelino, Jose, 100

329

factions in, 240, 281, 291, 318, 334; ethnic, 149—151; Ilocanization,

147, 339; Philippine Military Acad-

Balweg, Conrado, 312 Banking system, 193; Central Bank, 78,

Chase ManLand Bank, 168,

emy, 80, 140, 143, 145, 147, 149,

171, 191, 192, 200, 284;

226, 240, 290, 291, 320; Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM), 290, 291, 302, 305, 306, 312, 313, 317, 334; ROTC, 80, 106, 149, 150, 240; schooling 149—151;

hattan Bank,

UP

Vanguards, 150

force levels, 140; draft, 140 officers: Gen. Fortunato Abat, 266; Gen. Romeo Espino, 148, 149; Col. Gregorio Honasan, 317; Gen.

Josephus Ramas, 290, 291; Gen. Fidel Ramos, 145, 147-151, 215, 240, 256, 276, 290, 291, 302, 306, 312, 313, 316, 317, 334; Gen. Fabian Ver, 147-149, 151, 202, 240, 256, 274, 276, 289-291, 296, 302, 303, 306, 333, 334; Gen. Manuel Van, 147 political role, 114, 115, 128,

142-144,

148, 177, 182, 239, 277, 306, 308,

311, 313, 315, 317, 318, 320, 324, 325, 329, 330, 332, 333; American influence on, 148, 184, 201, 328, 337; Military-Church relations, 124, 219, 220, 222. See also PatronClient system, Phillipine-American

1

19;

169, 171; Manufacturer’s Hanover Trust, 194; Philippine National Bank, 77, 171, 172, 307; Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation, 192; rural banks, 171, 172; United Coconut

Planters Bank, 259, 260, 272 Barican, Gerry, 131

Barrera, Jesus, 101 Bernas, Joaquin, 308 Bishops’ and Businessmen’s Conference

on

Human

Development, 306 215, 218, 220

Blanco, Jose, Boncayo, Alex, 131 Bonifacio, Andres, 6 Budget, 13, 56, 77, 86-88, 129, 134, 139, 140, 151, 169, 170n, 239, 243, 258, 309, 319; Budget Commission, 77, 79. See also Armed Eorces of the Philippines,

budget

Bureaucracy/civil service, 13, 78—80, 139, 152, 153, 244, 324, 327, 338; Civil Service Commission, 78; technocrats, 17, 43, 86, 135, 192, 195, 238, 240,

Army, 164, 213, 225, 266, 269; Civilian Home Defense Forces, 141, 263, 267, 310, 317; Marines, 164, 267; National Defence College, 144; Navy, 144; Philippine constabulary, 29, 30,

241, 254, 255, 273, 291, 325, 329, 330, 333, 337. See also Political institutions, American period Bureaucratic capitalists, 237. See also Elites, cronies Burma, 50, 70, 103, 144 Buscayno, Dante, 226, 318 Business organizations: Makati Business Club, 278, 306; Mindanao Federation of Chambers of Commerce and Industry, 265; Rotary Club, 283

141, 143, 147, 148, 156, 246, 262,

Byroade, Henry, 20

relations. Military

presidential control of, 282, 316—318,

339 units: Air Force, 269;

1

Index Cabangbang, Bartolome, 252 Canoy, Ruben, 209, 251 Cease-fire, 312-316 Centralization/decentralization, 90, 92, 93, 108, 112, 138, 139, 146, 152, 163,

349

Corporatism, 332 Corpus, Victor, 147, 226 Corpuz, O. D., 43, 179, 197 Corruption, 14, 16, 17, 31, 33, 37, 45, 56, 58, 79, 100, 107, 110, 111, 136-138,

330 Charisma, 243

264, 280, 291, 323, 325, 330, 331,

China, 32, 231, 152, 33

338

148, 152, 172, 210, 227, 243, 257,

Coups

influence of, 186, 229, 294 Kuomintang, 32; threat from, 14, 177 Christian Social Movement, 102, 204, 217 Church-State relations, 253, 261-264, 270, 280, 308, 310, 338 Civil Liberties Union of the Philippines,

331; attempted, 312, 315, 317; rumors of, 148; threats of, 149, 236, 312, 316 Crisol, Jose, 141 Crowe, William, 292

181, 197, 208, 251 Clark Field. See Philippine-American relations, military

Datu. See

Classes

and

61—63, 70;

consciousness, 68, 69, 71, 271, 326, 335, 338; class struggle, 261; farm laborers, 174, 175; lower class deference, 72; lower middle, 62, 63; masses, 113, 324, 328; middle class, strata,

class

11, 15, 26, 46, 50, 61, 62, 105, 113,

213, 231, 280, 287, 292, 294, 333; peasants, 26, 72, 262, 327, 335; structure, 3;

upper

class, 62, 82, 97;

upper

middle, 62, 63; workers, 62, 264, 265, 292, 327, 335 Climaco, Cesar, 25 In Coalition of Organizations for the Restoration of Democracy (CORD), 285 Cojuangco, Eduardo. See Elites, Cronies Colombia, 103 Commonwealth of the Philippines, 9-1 Compadre. See Kinship, fictive kinship Concepcion, Jose, 299, 307 Constitution, Malolos, 8 Constitution, Philippine (1935), 37, 42, 74-78, 93, 115, 127, 310, 326; amended, 14, 19, 76, 81 Constitution, Philippine (1973), 115-117, 127, 134, 137, 142, 148, 249, 309, 326; amended, 121, 129, 134, 210, 233, 249, 250, 254 Constitution, Philippine (1987), 310, 315 Constitution, Provisional (1986), 309 Constitution, U.S., 10, 75

Constitutional Commission (1986), 310, Constitutional Convention (1935), 10, 75, 76, 81, 108

Constitutional Convention (1971), 19, 105, 107-113, 115, 157, 250, 311,

328

Convenor Group, 296

d’etat,

Elites,

Muslim/Moro;

Political

Pre-Spanish Decay. See Political decay institutions:

Decentralization. See Centralization/decentralization

Dee, Dewey, 238, 248 De la Torre, Ed, 125, 215, 217, 228

Dependence, 119, 200, 202, 325; on Japanese-American condominium, 200 Dependency, 59, 196, 197, 202, 337 Development. See Political development Development Academy of the Philippines, 267 Diokno, Jose, 126, 188, 205, 208-211, 251, 255, 281, 285, 293, 294, 308,

311 Disini, Herminio. See

Elites,

Cronies

Dominican Republic, 153 Dulles, John Eoster, 179 Durano, Pedro, 265

Economic

332 259, 260 economic development, 154 economic nationalism, 10, 15, 17, 21, 33, 58, 60, 73, 192, 238, 326 exchange controls, 15, 326 Export Incentives Act of 1970, 191 policy,

coconut

levy,

export oriented industrialization, 22, 325, 331

IMF/WB

influence on, 195, 202, 334,

337 import controls, 15, 16 import substitution industrialization, 15, 58, 61

Investment Incentives Act of 1967, 191 minimum wage, 175, 265 tariff, 9, 15, 254, 326 Economic system, 52 capital flight, 337 capitalist, 328, 335

350

Index

Economic system

45, 46; local language, 27; Pilipino,

(cont.)

46

concentration/distribution of wealth/in-

come, 54—56, 60 corporations, 54, 55, 165; American corporations (see Philippine-American Relations); Amco Investment

and Development

Co., 58; Ayala

Corporation, 278; Bataan Pulp and Paper Co., 58; Bengiiet Corporation, 278; Jacinto Iron and Steel Sheets Corp., 143; La Tondena Distillery, 57; Lepanto Consolidated Mines, 58; Manila Electric Co., 134, 143; Philippine Long Distance

schools, 45; Catholic, 216, 221; Chinese 32, 33; elementary, 44; private, 44,

46; public, 30; madrasah, 30, 49, 163; secondary, 44, 46; students, 6, 45; drop outs, 70; secondary, 70; tertiary, 26, 70 teachers, 67, 120, 141

Egypt/Egyptians, 30, 183 Elections, 10, 11, 40,

101, 102; of 1961, 16, 94, 95, 98-100,

102; of 1965, 16, 27, 103; of 1969, 17, 95,97, 100, 103, 104, 106, 113, 142,

of 1970, 105, 109, 113; of 1971, 18, 106, 147, 156; of 1978, 129, 131, 206, 208, 209, 245, 276, 154, 156,

Elites,

Socioeco-

nomic

338

government corporations, 237, 330; Government Service Insurance System, 307; Philippine National Oil Co., 307; Philippine National Railways, 143; Philippine Veterans Development Corp., 143 GNP growth, 55, 152, 239, 320, 326 inflation, 288, 320 manufacturing, 9, 52, 53, 57, 58 per capita GNP, 52, 54

105;

299, 300, 306, 318, 320; compulsory voting, 252, 253, 285; election code, 94, 99, 105, 106, 116, 297; election costs, 98-100, 108, 319, 329; electoral reform, 94, 104—106, 208; fraud, 94,

93n, 139, 221 exports, trade: 9, 332; imports, 58; free trade. See Philippine-American re-

103, 106, 131, 132, 237, 286,

policy, 56, 92,

17, 26, 55, 61, 71, 151,

higher education, 5, 6, 11, 44, 70, 264; Ateneo de Manila, 65, 101, 272, 308; University of Philippines, 83,

226

language of instruction, 27; English,

38, 98, 100, 103, 104, 106, 299, 301,

320; vote buying, 38, 42, 98, 99, 104, 298; voters, 1 16, 297 Elite conflict, cleavage, and competition, 21, 22, 74, 103, 112, Elite Elite

1

13,

237-240,

273, 291, 325, 327, 328 consensus, 1 12

dominance, 96,

1

12,

335

Elites, 4, 6, 7, 9, 26, 72, 73, 104, 108, 113,

249, 254, 272, 324, 326, 328 cronies: 123, 178, 237, 238, 245, 254,

88, 89, 107, 108, 150, 156, 157,

179, 181,

299-

301, 320, 327, 332, 334; local, 40, 138, 209, 244, 256, 257, 260, 264, 296; NAMFREL, 104, 284-286, 298301, 306, 317, 334; participation in, 40, 93, 327, 328; qualihcations of voters, 10, 93, 108; violence during,

trade

175, 265, 284, 288 wages and incomes, 54, 61, 152, 264 Educational system, 46 colonial, 25, 36, 44, 49 curriculum, 67 Department (Ministry) of Education (and Culture), 44, 163; Bureau of Private Schools, 44; National Board of Education, 44

Elections, 76,

130, 132, 246, 251-253, 285, 286,

role of state, 56, 274, 327, 329, 330; tax

unemployment,

Commission on

93, 94, 104, 105, 106, 116, 118, 119,

poverty, 55

lations,

?>29-,

285, 332; of 1981, 210, 222, 251-253, 266, 280, 285; of 1984, 250, 280, 281-288, 295, 296, 298 333; of 1986, 295, 297-301, 333, 334; of 1987, 318—320; ballot, 93, 99; boycott, 208, 210, 232, 251-253, 280, 281, 284, 285, 287, 295, 296, 298, 314; Citizens’ National Electoral Assembly,

foreign debt, 193, 194, 196, 278, 330, 333, 337; moratorium on, 278 foreign investment, 176, 178, 181, 191— 193, 196, 330,

14; of 1946, 97,

101; of 1947, 101; of 1949, 37, 94, 104, 113; of 1951, 37; of 1953, 15, 95, 97, 1 13, 284, 297, 329; of 1957, 95,

Telephone Co., 143; San Miguel Corporation, 272, 300; “Top 50”, 55; “Top 1000”, 55; Ysmael Steel, 102 entrepreneurs. See

1

9,

258, 273, 275, 291, 292, 300, 309, 323, 330, 332-334, 336-338;

Index

Elites (cont.)

Abello, Emilio, 249; Benedicto,

Roberto, 123, 237, 263, 291, 292, 333, 336; Construction and Development Corporation of the Philippines, 238; Cojuangco, Eduardo 237, 240, 259, 260, 272, 291, 292, 300, 333, 336. See also Agriculture and forestry, coconuts; Cuenca, Rodolfo, 238; Disini, Herminio, 187, 237; Floirendo, Antonio, 212, 237; Silverio, Ricardo, 237 Filipino, 6, 10 58, 59 local, 4, 31, 38, 48, 68, 92, 139, 274, 330; hders, 68, 86, 99, 105 Muslim/Moro, 155, 158, 160, 162, 165 national, 38 political, 14, 70, 89, 98, 150, 176, 212, 236, 237, 242, 309, 321, 328; linkages to economic, 16; “Political dynasties”, 287; ruling elite, 103, 112, 205, 211, 236, 274, 275, 329, 331,

339 socioeconomic, 10, 21, 57, 58, 61, 74, 113, 178, 190, 205, 212, 234, 235, 237, 238, 241-243, 272, 273, 275, 278, 306, 308, 326-329, 332-334, 336, 338, 339; Chinese, 58, 136, 260, 327, 336; Chinese Mestizo, 57

compradors, 59, 202, 238; diversihcation of, 57; kinship linkages within, 57, 72, 326, 327; landed, 68, 92, 166, 175, 176, 323, 336; national bourgeoisie, 16, 60, 307; “oligarchy”, 72, 166, 178, 205, 209,

238, 325, 329, 336-338 traditional, 31 Elizalde family, 123 El Salvador, 166 Emigration, 67, 72 Enrile, Juan Ponce, 20, 123, 131, 141, 143, 147, 148, 151, 161, 203, 240, 245, 248, 254, 255n, 259, 260, 267, 268, 271, 276, 289-292, 294, 302, 303, 306, 307, 311-314, 316, 317,

351

Foreign Policy under Magsaysay, 179, 198 under Garcia, 179 under Macapagal, 180, 181, 183 under Marcos:

Arab influences on,

182,

202

goals of, 178, 180, 190, 196, 202 IMF/WB influences on, 192, 193, 195, 333; Consultative Group,

193-195 toward ASEAN, 182, 183; Indonesia, 182, 184; Malaysia, 183, 184;

Sabah Claim 183; Singapore, 182 toward Communist countries, 181, 183, 197; Peoples Republic of

China, 181, 182; Rumania, 181; Soviet Union, 182; Yugoslavia, 181

toward toward toward toward toward

Islamic Conference, 182, 183 Japan. See Japan

Korea, 179 SEATO, 179 U.S. See Philippine-American

relations

toward Vietnam, 179, 180, 182, 198 U.S. influences on. See Dependency; Neocolonialism; and Philippine-

American relations under Aquino, 203 France, Fifth Republic, 250 Galman, Rolando, 296 Garcia, Carlos, 15, 16, 78, 101, 109, 179,

252 Garsales, Alex, 262

Gerlock, Ed, 212 Gore, Brian, 263 Goss-Mayr, Hildegard, 301 Gould, Michael, 195

Gowing,

Peter, 164,

Greece, 185 Green Revolution, 16, 53, 171, 288, Grossholtz, Jean, 36

Group of

77, 183

Guingona, Teofisto, 294, 311

334 Espaldon, Romeo, 161, Estrella, Conrado, 170 Ethiopia, 153

Exchange

rates,

56n

Ferrer, Jaime, 104—106, 307, 317 First National Muslim Filipino Con-

ference, 30

Floirendo, Antonio. See Elites, cronies

Habeas Corpus,

77,

248

Habib, Philip, 301

Hacienda

321 Harrison, Gov. General, 81 Holbrooke, Richard, 186, 199, 246 Luisita,

Hong Kong,

Human

191

rights, 185, 211,

Amnesty 281

310

International, 124, 126, 127,

352

Index

Human

Justice for

rights (cont.)

281

freedom of speech, 116, 119, 132, 146, 233 Human Rights Commission, 308, 310, 311, 315, 317

Kabataang Barangay. See Youth organizations

Kahin, George, 189 Kalaw, Eva, 247

Task Force detainees, 126 violations of, 126, 129, 141, 210, 212,

213, 220, 221; charge of subversion, 122, 125; detention, 122, 124, 125, 127, 210; murder, 126, 276, 331; political prisoners, 124—126, 207, 246; torture, 115, 124-127, 210, 212, 213, 220, 331 Hussein, King, 183

.

Kampuchea, 182, 293 Khaddafi, Muamar. See Moro

306, 313, 315, 317,

339

KKK), 257 33; dyadic ties, 33, 34, 36; Active kinship, 34, 79

5—7

Korea, Republic of, 152 Kuwait, 201

1

Indonesia 47, 50, 54, 70, 98, 143, 144, 177n, 194, 243, 327 Ingles, Jose, 187 Inouye, Daniel, 188 Institutionalization, 112, 113, 231, 254,

340 Intellectuals, 177,

180

Intengan, Romeo, 218, 247 Interest groups, 13. See also Business organizations; Labor movements and organizations; Peasant organizations

International Development Association (IDA), 194, 235 International Labor Office, 55 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 15, 61, 121, 122, 128, 129, 193, 194, 196,

235, 241, 270, 273, 283, 284, 287, 291, 292. See also Foreign Policy: under Marcos, JMF/WB influences on Iran, 186, 234, 276 Islamic Conference. See Foreign policy,

under Marcos; and Moro Rebellion, External support Israel, 184 Italians,

1, 3,

Kissinger, Henry, 20, 185, 189

Iliistrados,

India,

Rebellion,

External support Khalid, King, 183 Kilusang Kabuhayan at Kaunlaran (Movement for Livelihood and Progress, or Kinship,

lleto, Rafael, 20, 145,

Aquino, Justice for All (JA|A),

39

Jackson, Karl, 320 Japan: aid from, 194, 200, 267; compared with 42, 44; debt to, 196, 199, 200;

investment from, 193, 199, 200; trade with, 59; Zaibatsu, 72 Japanese occupation, 12, 25, 30, 79, 90, 102, 145; anti- Japanese guerrillas, 12, 30, 145, 224; Japanese army, 12 Jayme, Vicente, 307 Jopson, Edgar, 272 Jordan, 183

Labor movements and organizations,

17,

64, 67, 101, 152, 220, 227, 230, 265,

319, 331, 332; Congress of Labor Organizations, 224; Kilusang Mayo Uno, 265, 298, 301, 332; labor-management relations, 64, 66, 67; strikes, 220, 265, 284, 291, 301, 302; Trade Union Congress of the Philippines, 265, 298

Lahoz, Manuel, 125 La Liga Eilipina, 6 Lande, Carl, 45, 97

Land grabbers, 6, 155, 163, 267, 268 Land reform. See Agrarian reform Land tenure 3, 5, 60; land conflict, 335; landlords, 5, 12, 57, 68, 83, 166, 167, 225, 268, 294, 322, 326; tenants, 225,

268, 326 Lansdale, Edward, 15 Laos, 182 Latin America, 73 Laurel family, 209, 211, Jose Jr., 84; Jose V., 209-211, 251, 278, 296, 297, 306, 309, Lava, Jesus, 66, 225 Laxalt, Paul, 303, Laya, Jaime, 271 Leader/leadership, 2, 3, 95,

1

12,

281; Jose, 12; 209; Salvador, 279, 284, 287,

334

6, 11,

205; charisma

26, 76, 85,

of, 51, 100,

102 Left, 36, 210, 211, 232, 264, 272, 273,

280, 281, 283, 298, 310, 311, 318321, 333; non-party, 315 Legal system, 2, 11, 30 Legitimacy, 15,37-39, 112-115, 117, 121,

Index

Legitimacy

(cont.)

122, 127, 133, 1138, 143, 151, 154, 176, 190, 232, 235, 236, 244, 253,

271, 311, 339, 287, 338; 295,

274, 282, 285, 304, 308, 309, 323-325, 328, 329, 332-335, 340; abroad, 1 19, 121, 152, 248, 295; from charisma, 15, 37, 310,

from 327;

elections, 37, 38, 209, 284,

243, 277; from from patronage, 38,

loss of,

malakas, 38;

from referenda, 122; through

106;

policy,

154, 175, 176, 180, 327, 330-332,

335, 338 Libya, 159. See also nal support

Moro

Rebellion, Exter-

Lider. See Elites, local

Linguistic groups: Bicolano, 27; Bontoc, 28; Cebuano, 27; llocano, 19, 27, 150, 214, 339; Ilongo, 27; Kalinga, 28; Maguindanao, 28, 162; Maranao, 28, 30, 162;

Pampangueno,

27; Tag-

24,27,46, 47,82, 102, 150, 339; Tausug, 28, 158, 162, 183; T’boli, 28 Literacy, 9, 13, 39, 46, 47, 93 Lollobrigida, Gina, 234 Lopez, Salvador P., 24, 146, 181, 271 Lopez family, 18, 123, 134, 235, 336; Eugenio Jr., 245; Eugenio Sr., 21, 78; Fernando, 134 Lucman, Rashid, 158, 270 Lynch, Frank, 61 alog,

Macapagal, Diosdado,

16, 65, 78, 87, 96,

100, 109, 121, 128, 167, 180, 181, 183, 188, 198, 209, 232, 250, 285 MacArthur, Douglas, 14

Maceda, Ernesto, 131 McNamara, Robert, 55 Magsaysay, Ramon, 15, 22, 30, 37, 65, 78, 80, 100-102, 104, 113, 141, 145, 167, 179, 214, 225, 284, 316, 323; cha-

risma of, 329 Magsaysay for President Movement, 101 Majul, Cesar, 162 Makalintal, Querube, 135 Malaysia, 50, 52, 54, 68, 70, 79, 158, 159

Manahan, Manuel,

92, 102 Manalo, Felix. See Religion, Christian,

non-Catholic

Manglapus, Raul, 92, 102, 103, 108, 157, 206, 209, 218, 245, 247, 285 Marcos family, 123, 128, 178, 234, 236

281, 282, 287, 289, 295, 297, 332, 333; legacy of, 336—338; “loyalists,” 312; as president, 2, 3, 17-22, 27, 38, 39, 42, 43, 49, 50, 73, 74, 77, 87, 88, 91, 97, 103, 104, 107-130,

132-142, 144, 146, 148, 150, 153155, 159-168, 170, 173, 176, 177, 180, 182, 183, 185-190, 192, 193, 195, 196, 198-203, 205-211, 213, 214, 219, 220, 222, 228-231, 233238, 241, 242, 244-250, 252-255, 260, 263, 264, 270-276, 280-283, 286, 287, 292, 296-307, 329, 330, 333—335, 337; as senator, 16; systemic lupus erythematosis, 234, 235, 255, 275, 282, 289; wealth of, 174, 241, 242, 245, 323, 330, 333,

336 Imee, 187, 287 Imelda/First Lady, 50, 109, 110, 128, 130, 131, 135, 137, 160, 183, 184,

209, 221, 235, 237, 240-242, 244, 246-248, 254, 255, 257, 260, 270, 271, 273, 275, 276, 278, 289-291, 297, 336; governor, 241; minister, 241; relations with Ferdinand, 241

Mariano, 242 Marcos regime, 37, 41, 48, 191, 199, 276, 280, 284, 285, 315, 323, 331, 340 Martial law: imposed, 18-22, 104, 111, 115, 134, 148, 157, 158, 177, 191, 192, 199, 207, 209, 213, 226, 235, 236, 306, 310, 328, 329, 334, 336; justihcation of, 228; lifting of, 1 19, 209, 233, 246—250; regime, 40, 77,

114, 118, 121, 122, 129, 136, 142144, 146, 153, 159, 166, 206, 212,

239, 241, 243, 244, 267, 330 Marxism/Marxists, 107, 157, 217, 218, 223, 226, 238, 261, 264, 268, 279, 298, 306, 308, 336; Maoism, 157, 161. See also Revolutionary parties

and movements. Communist Neo-Marxism, 49 Masonry,

6, 8,

Mass demands, 327-329, 334, 339. also Classes and strata Matalam, Datu Udtog, 156, 158 Mayo, Benigno, 220 Media, 13, 44, 122, 251, 260, 326 cinema, 47, 48

See

control of, 115, 122, 123, 247, 330, 331,

336 credibility of, 123

Ferdinand: Aglipayan, 50, 214; health

escapism

234, 235, 242, 255, 274, 275,

party;

10

cronies. See Elites, cronies of,

353

in,

48

foreign press, 206, 208; Asian Wall

Street

1

354

Index

Media

organizations: Bangsa

(cant.)

Journal, 273, 286; Commentary, 293; New York Times, 191, 248, 276; Time, 293

freedom

of, 48,

233

images

in foreign media, 123, 127, 133 press, 47, 122, 123, 257; Bulletin Today,

158, 160-165, 183, 214, 228, 269, 270; Philippine Muslim Nationalist

172; Business Day, 244; Daily Bulletin, 123; Daily Express, 118; Manila Chronicle, 123;

for a Free Philippines, 206 Multinationals, 192, 210, 238, 261, 262.

radio, 47

rumors, 123

Economic system, foreign investment; Philippine-American Relations, U.S. controlled corporations Myrdal, Gunnar, 56 See also

TV, 47, 319 Melchor, Alejandro, 145, 159, 160, 166, 241 Mendiola Bridge, 107 Menzi, Hans, 123 Mexicans, 39 Military. See Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP)

Ramon,

origins: Jabidah massacre, 155

Movement

123

Mitra,

League, 158

Manila Times, 47,

122; Philippines Free Press, 18, 40,

Moro Army

(BMA), 158, 164, 184, 269, 311; Bangsa Moro Liberation Organization, 270; Mindanao Independence Movement (MIM), 28, 156; Mindanao Revolutionary Council for Independence, 158; MNLF, 28, 157,

3

Modernization,

NAKASAKA. Nalundasan,

Monjo, John, 282

Montemayor, Jeremias, 65 Morales, Horacio “Boy,” 267, 318 Moro, dehnition of, 29n. See also Political Culture, Subculture: Muslim Moro Rebellion, 154—165, 176 external support: Arab World, 160, 162, 182; Iran, 163; Islamic Conference, 160-163, 270; Khaddah,

Muamar,

160, 184; Libya, 160, Malaysia, 162; 158; Sabah, 155, 158, 160, 183; Tun Mustafa, 160, 183 gang warfare: Barracudas, 156; Ilaga, 156, 157

genocide: Manili massacre, 157; Pata massacre, 269

autonomy, 160, 161, 228; independence/sovereignty, 160—164 government policy, 176; Arabic instruction, 159; autonomy, 161—165, 183, 270, 314; Code of Muslim Personal Law, 159; Ministry of Islamic Affairs, 163; Philippine Amanah goals:

Bank, 159; Tripoli agreement, 160, 161, 163, 184, 270; land conflicts, 155, 163—165 leaders: A.K. Alonto, 158, 162; Nur Misuari, 156-163, 165, 183, 184, 269, 311; Hashim Salamat, 158, 161, 163

Julio,

vig-

242

Nation/Nationalism,

2, 4, 7, 8, 10, 15,

24-

26, 28, 31, 33, 35, 38, 39, 41, 45, 101, 112, 181, 183, 187, 189, 198, 202,

5, 37, 41, 42, 51, 113,

337

Anticommunism,

ilantes

1

151, 233, 326, 328,

See

208, 210, 232, 273, 281, 285, 293, 294, 299, 308, 328, 332, 337-339; anti-Americanism, 25, 26, 185 National Bourgeoisie. See Elites, Socioeco-

nomic National Concord for Freedom, 210 National Endowment for Democracy, 298 National identity, 24-27, 31, 44, 154; American influence on, 25, 26; Asian heritage, 26, 179; Hispanic influence on, 26; Malay heritage, 4, 8; Western influence on, 25 National language/Pilipino, 27 Naturalization, 32, 33 Neocolonialism, 197, 198, 202, 203, 325, 340. See also Dependency; Philippine-

American Relations New Peoples Army. See Revolutionary parties and movements

New

Society, 22,

14, 118, 136, 137, 144, 166, 205, 230, 330, 331, 333, 335, 1

337, 338

Nicaragua, 153, 293 Non-Aligned Conference, 183 Normalization, 1 14, 233, 234, 242, 244, 247, 253, 255, 265n, 261, 270, 272, 273, 332

North, Oliver, 316 Nuclear Free Philippines Coalition, 188 O’Brien, Niall, 263

Ocampo,

Satur,

320

Index Olaguer, Eduardo, 244, 245

355

opposition

66 Olalia, Rolando, 313 Ople, Bias, 289, 319 Ongpin, Jaime, 238, 278, 293, 294, 296, 307 Ongpin, Roberto, 238, 271 Olalia, Felixberto,

OPEC, 201

to, 188; rentals, 185, 188, 189, 236 neocolonial mentality, 198, 199; State-

hood Movement,

26, 197, 252

Pro-Americanism, 101, 178, 179, 197; anti-Americanism. See Nation/Nationalism

Organski, A.EK., 72, 73

Trade, 9, 59; free trade, 15; Laurel Langley Agreement, 15, 19, 199

Osmena, Osmena,

U.S. controlled corporations, 17, 21, 59, 193, 194, 329; parity for, 14, 76,

Sergio, 9, 12, 32, 81, 101, 224 Sergio, Jr., 17, 95, 99, 107

Pakistan, 152

101, 178, 199; share of foreign investment, 199; Westinghouse, 187. See also Economic system, corpora-

Palanca, Carlos, 57

tions

Palma, Cecilia Munoz, 134

U.S.

Pasyon. See Political culture, subcultures: sacral

Paterno, Vicente, 243n, 306 Patrimonialism. See Regime types Patron-Client system, 3, 21, 35, 36, 38, 40, 50, 61, 64, 68, 69, 72, 74, 80, 96, 99,

100, 104, 106,

1

13, 152, 201, 206,

211, 216, 237, 254, 256, 258, 260, 268, 271, 326, 330, 332, 333; break^.down, 17, 327, 329, 335; patronage,

Government Aid, 199; economic,

119, 178, 194,

14, 59,

189-191,

283; military, 14, 145, 146, 189, 190, 196, 225, 264, 318, 338; veterans’ back pay, 180 U.S. influence/model, 10, 16, 38, 67, 75, 83, 89, 93, 145, 179, 232, 235, 244,

248, 278, 283, 295, 298, 318, 327, 329, 331, 333 U.S. intervention, 105, 198, 202, 225,

274-276, 290, 291, 296, 312, 315, 334; Council on Foreign Relations

22, 35, 56, 71, 84, 85, 88, 90, 92, 98, 106, 113, 114, 121, 130, 131, 139,

on, 198; legitimacy of, 197;

144, 146, 147, 151, 257, 260, 272,

Quirino-Foster Agreement, 178;

306, 307, 311, 323, 325, 335, 338, 339; “pork barrel,” 42, 72, 86-88, 96, 98, 100, 130, 131 Peasant organizations, 64, 67, 152, 168,

U.S. advisors, 15, 159. See also United States government, CIA U.S. private credit, 196

See also U.S.

Government

323, 332; Colorums, 41; Congress for a People’s Agrarian Reform, 322; Federation of Free Farmers (FFF), 17,

Philippine Constitutional Association, 108 Pimentel, Aquilino, 307, 313 Plaza Miranda Bombing, 18, 77, 208

65, 66, 204, 215; Kilusang Magbubukid sa Pilipinas (KMP), 293,

Plebiscite, 210,

318, 322; “land occupations,” 322; MASAKA, 66, 230; Sakdals, 21,41

Polarization, 133, 211, 232, 280,

Pelaez,

Emmanuel,

102, 254, 255n,

Pendatun, Salipada, 158 PEOPLE (People’s Opposition Plebiscite

and

260

to the

Election), 251,

252

of,

250

339 140-142, 226, 256n, 263, 267, 271; Integrated National Police, 141, 142; National Police Commission, 141, 142

Police, 72,

Political capacity/capability,

274, 309, 330,

334

Perez, Rodrigo, 104

Pham Van Dong,

182 Philippine-American relations, 178, 179,

Political culture

subcultures:

Chinese, 31, 32, 50; intermarriage

282 military, 14, 186;

250—254; boycott Poindexter, John, 301

amendments,

187,

189; criminal jurisdiction, 179, 189190; military bases, 66, 148, 177

185, 210, 235, 236, 314, 318; Military Bases Agreement, 14, 127, 196, 236, 282; negotiations of, 179,

180, 185—187, 200; nuclear weapons on, 188; off base security, 189;

of,

32; Chinese mestizos, 5, 6, 32, 50 Christian Filipino (in Muslim areas),

27-29, 31, 41, 51, 156, 161, 164 Muslim, 3, 4, 28, 29, 31, 41, 49, 51, 162, 326; Moro nation, 158 See also Moro Rebellion; umma, 156 3,

parochial, 24, 38, 39, 41, 46

356

Index 248, 253, 254, 289, 303; vice presidency, 78, 95, 96, 134, 295

culture (cont.) participant, 24, 39, 41, 49, 130 regional. See Linguistic groups

Political

41—43, 46, 51, 304; antinganting, 2 pasyon, 41, 45 suerte

sacral,

;

;

41

(luck),

secular,

41,51

subject, 39, 41

312. See also Lin-

tribal, 27, 28, 51,

guistic

of

groups

Values: authoritarian, 43, 45, 211; bargaining, 36, 43, 75, 246, 327; cynicism, 36, 37, 51, 113, 332;

democratic, 42—45, 48, 49, 51, 146, 205, 211, 301, 337, 338; group loyalties,

prime minister, 127, 134, 249, 250, 253-255, 271 Office of the President, 77; Board of Investments, 192, 254; Commission on National Integration, 30, 31; Commission on Reorganization, 135; Council of Leaders (Council

35; ideology, 36, 38, 48, 101,

Executive Secretary, 77, 136; National Bureau of Investigation, 156; National Computer Center, 143; National Economic Council, 78, 135; NaState), 78;

tional

Economic Development Au-

thority, 135; National Intelligence

205, 335; indigenous, 43; pakikisama, 71; pragmatism, 36, 42, 51; reciprocal obligation, 33, 34,

Coordinating Agency, 77, 316; Na-

61, 79, 160; ritualism, 46; segurista, 111; self-esteem, 7 1 utang na loot,

Council, 20, 185, 223; Philippine Coconut Authority, 259; Philippine

;

33, 35, 98, 178, 323;

33; Western, 43. See

walang hiya, Anticom-

also

munism

and Security Au-

thority, 149, 290; National Security

Commission on Good Government, 323, 336; Philippine Ports Authority, 143; Presidential

Political decay, 14, 16,

274, 323-325, 337,

339 Political

tional Intelligence

plaints

Com-

and Action Commission,

102

development,

10, 15, 16, 151,

324, 325, 328, 329, 337, 340 Political integration, 31,

1,

tistics,

Pre-Spanish period

Political institutions:

barangay,

46

3, 43; data, 1—4, 31;

Mag-

indanao Sultanate, 29; sultan, 31; Sultan of Sulu, 29 Spanish period 4, 5; bureaucracy, 5 Political institutions: Revolutionary period Malolos Congress, 7, 8 Political institutions:

governor general,

American period

Political institutions:

79; Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, 29;

bureaucracy/civil service, 9,

1

1,

Bureau of Lands,

29; Department of Public Instruction, 29; governorgeneral, 8, 1 1 judiciary, 10, 11; ;

legislature, 8, 10, 81; military, 29;

Philippine Commission, 8 Political institutions since

emergency powers

Bureaux: Agricultural Economics, 265; Eorestry, 173; Census and

1935, Executive executive

of, 77;

committee, 250, 254, 255, 260 executive-legislative relations, 85-88, 139, 310 presidency, 76, 96, 127, 249, 310, 327; cabinet, 78, 136, 137, 250, 289,

306, 321; Cabinet Coordinating Conference, 136; Malacanang, 30, 65, 85, 96, 107, 109-112, 115, 123,

125, 128, 163, 213, 234, 236, 240,

Sta-

52; Cooperatives, 170; Inter-

nal Revenue, 137; Posts, 143; Telecommunications, 143 Ministry/Department, 78; Agrarian Reform, 135, 168-170, 175, 176; Agriculture, 169, 172, 266, 288;

Foreign Affairs, 181, 306;

Human

Setdements, 257; Jusdce, 33, 88, 90, 133, 190; Labor and Employment, 265; Local Government and

Community Development,

138,

153, 256; Public Information, 122,

135; Tourism, 245 Political institutions since 1935, Legislative

Batasang Bayan, 128 Congress, 31, 76, 77, 79, 81-90, 92, 94, 96, 112, 128, 138, 146, 149, 167, 168, 180, 205, 224, 236, 310, 321,

323, 328, 329, 339; Commission on Appointments, 80, 83, 94; House of Representatives, 81—85, 87, 89, 95, 96, 310, 311, 318; representativeness of, 82, 83; Senate, 76, 81— 85, 93, 95, 96, 199, 318,

323

Interim Batasang Pambansa, 129, 135, 151, 187, 196, 208, 209, 233-235, 239, 245, 248, 250, 254, 255, 256n, 257, 278, 285, 286, 289, 291, 295,

357

Index Political institutions, (cant.)

Liberals, 16, 18, 87, 95-98, 100-102,

296, 300, 307, 309, 313 Interim National Assembly, 115, 127,

128 laws: Agrarian Reform Code 1963, 65; Decentralization Act of 1967, 92; Industrial Peace Act, 64; Local Autonomy Act of 1959 (Barrio Charter), 91; Police Act of 1966, 141; Public Works Act, 85; Retail Trade Nationalization Act, 58

National Assembly, 76, 81, 85, 242 Political institutions since \9?>b

Supreme Court,

,

J udicial

19, 77, 81, 88, 89, 116,

117, 119, 133, 134, 151, 188, 206, 207, 242, 246, 258, 296, 321, 328;

Court of Agrarian Relations, 66; Court of Appeals, 214, 258; Court of Industrial Relations, 64; judicial independence, 133; judicial reorganization, 257, 258; military

tri-

bunals, 206, 207, 245; Sandigang Bayan, 137; Tanodbayan, 137 Political institutions since 1935, Local Government

barangay, 117-120, 138, 151-153 barrio/village council, 88, 90, 91, 93,

130, 138, 256; Lieutenant/Captain,

48, 88, 91, 138 citizen’s assembly, 116, 130, 133

governors, 90, 93, 116, 138, 142, 143, 156, 157, 209, 254, 257, 307, 320 local automomy, 92; Barrio Charter, 91, 138 local government code, 256 fn mayors, 91-93, 116, 120, 138, 139, 142, 156, 157, 171, 209, 256, 257, 262, 263, 307, 320 municipality, 90, 91 performance audit, 138 provinces, 90 Sangguniang Pampook, 162 Political mobilization/demobilization, 13,

22, 74, 113, 130, 151, 205, 260, 264,

293, 297, 328, 332, 338, 340 Political participation, 10, 15, 22, 37, 139,

152, 277, 286, 319, 327, 328, 331,

334 Political parties, 10, 11, 31,

204, 205

party-switching, 36, 96, 97, 309 party system: multi-party, 42, 318; single- party, 42, 94; two-party, 45, 94, 95, 108 structure, 95 Political parties, electoral (Constitutional

period)

107, 109 Nacionalistas, 8, 15, 18, 76, 88, 95-98, 100, 101, 109 “third parties”: 94, 95, 100, 101; Democratic Alliance, 100—102, 113, 224;

Democrats, 100; Grand Alliance, 102; Nationalist Citizens Party, 101; Party of Philippine Progress, 102; Progressive Party of the Philippines (PPP), 101, 102 Political parties, electoral (Martial

Law

Period) anti- Marcos:

LABAN,

131, 132, 208, 209, 232, 307; Liberal Party, 130; 131, 208, 209, 285, 296, 298; Mindanao Alliance, 209, 251; Na-

cionalista Party, Laurel

Wing, 130,

147, 156, 180, 208, 251, 252, 279;

PDP, 280; PDP-LABAN, 281, 284; UNIDO, 210, 250-252, 270, 278281, 284, 286, 287, 296, 297 pro-Marcos: Kilusan Bagong Lipunan (KBL), 130-132, 151, 209, 237, 249, 250, 254, 256-258, 271, 273, 286, 287, 291, 295, 297, 299, 333; Nacionalista Party, Roy Wing, 209, 252; Pusyon Bisaya, 209, 254 Political parties, electoral (Aquino Period) Alliance for

New

Politics,

319, 320;

319, 320; KBL, 307, 309319, 320; Lakas ng Bayan,

GAD,

311, 319; Liberal Party, 307, Salonga Wing, 319; Partido ng Bayan, 316,

UNIDO, 306, 307, 319; PDPLABAN, 306-308, 310, 319 317;

Political socialization, 44, 46,

49

236, 242, 248, 278, 283, 308, 312, 324, 331, 334,

Political stability/instability,

335 Ponce-Enrile, Juan. See Enrile, Juan Ponce Popular Eront, 224 Population: family planning, 49; population growth, 54, 60, 326,

338

Portugal, 185 Pringle, Robert, 178,

200

Proportional representation, 108, 311 Prostermann, Roy, 166 Provinces: Basilan, 164; Batangas 209; Bukidnon, 221, 263, 264; Bulacan, 252; Cagayan, 266; Camarines Sur, 61, 252; Cavite, 102; Cebu, 26, 60, 132, 209, 286, 307; Cotabato, 30, 103, 156-159; Davao, 230; Davao del Norte, 221; Davao del Sur, 161; 11ocos Norte, 60, 128, 242, 272, 287;

1

Index

358

Provinces

autocracy, 115, 121, 199, 254, 286,

(cont.)

Ilocos Sur, 60, 103, 104, 216; Iloilo, 40; Isabela, 268; Lanao, 30, 103, 157, 158; Lanao del Norte, 157; Lanao del

Sur, 158; Leyte, 209, 240; Metro Manila, 60, 128, 265, 297, 299, 307; Negros Occidental, 262, 263, 288, 321; North Cotabato, 157, 263;

Nueva

Ecija, 35, 66, 224, 267; Pal-

awan, 161; Pampanga, 66, 230; Pangasinan, 226; Quezon, 267; Rizal, 215; Samar, 227, 229, 260, 266, 268, 279; South Cotabato, 161; Sulu, 30, 31, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161, 164, 269; Tarlac, 206, 226; Zamboanga, 157,

158 Psinakis, Steve,

287, 338;

“constitutional authoritarianism,”

233, 330; dictatorship, 11, 117, 153, 188, 209, 232, 233, 245, 268, 295, 305; fascism, 130, 292 democratic, 3, 18, 191, 236, 246, 297, 324, 328; constitutional, 75n, 204; constitutional democracy, 113,325,

democracy, 328; parliamentary government, 108, 110, 335;

elite

111, 234, 250, 332; presidential,

109-111 patrimonialism, 138, 144, 176, 254, 256, 258, 271, 323, 325, 337, 338; neo-patrimonialism, 153, 331, 333,

340

245—247

Regions:

Puno, Ricardo, 257

Bicol, 119n, 209,

Cagayan Quezon, Manuel,

9,

government, 233;

crisis

1

1,

12, 22, 30, 76, 81,

87, 112, 139, 167, 242 Quintero, Eduardo, 110, 111

Quirino, Elpidio, 14, 15, 37, 76, 78, 87, 97, 104, 225, 329

Valley, 226,

288 Ilocos, 49, 68, 209, 266,

Recto, Claro, 26, 101, 179, 185 Referenda, 114, 117, 122, 130, 151, 152

July 1973, 118 February 1975, 119, 120 October 1976, 121

commission on elections. See Elections compulsory voting, 118, 120, 121 boycott of, 120—122, 331 fraud, 121

320

Moro/Muslim, 29, 143 Visayas, 150, 227 Religion,

Ranis report, 54, 70

227

Central Luzon, 5, 12, 37, 66, 68, 101, 102, 113, 214, 224, 226, 227, 280,

Religion, animism,

Ramos, Narciso, 149

260

1,

Buddhism,

4, 41,

49

2

Religion, Christian, Non-Catholic

213-215; Manalo, Bishop Felix 50, 213, 214

Iglesia ni Kristo (INK), 50,

Philippine Independent Church (Aglipayans), 8, 49, 50, 214, 215 Protestants, 50, 124, 212, 213, 215; tional Council of Churches of

Christ in the Philippines

Na-

(NCCCP),

215 Religion, Christian,

Roman

Catholic

church-military relations (see A.EP.)

pulong pulong, 118, 119, 331 turnout, 1 18, 121, 122 Reform, 22, 101, 102, 107 Reformist opposition, 102, 116, 117, 127,

groupings: conservatives, 216, 218, 219, 222, 223; moderates, 216, 218, 219; “nat dems,” 217, 218; People’s

204, 205, 211, 231, 233, 235, 270, 286, 287, 295, 333; disunity in, 205, 208—210; mass support for, 205, 206,

(PAPA), 261; Philippine Priests Inc., 215; progressives, 49, 107, 216-220, 222, 223, 231, 279, 332; radicals, 216, 222, 223; “soc dems,” 217, 218 leaders: Bishop Francisco Claver, 221, 264, 300; Bishop Antonio Fortich, 262; Pope John XXIII, 216; Pope John Paul II, 247, 261, 62; Bishop Julio Labayen, 201; Pope Paul VI, 218n; Ruhno Cardinal Santos, 215; Jaime Cardinal Sin, 125, 126, 133,

211; middle class role in, 205, 211; nationalism of, 205, 21

Regan, Donald, 30 Regime Aging, 242—244, 333 Regime Types: authoritarian, 72, 74, 93, 138, 154, 176, 177, 211, 212, 233, 234, 242, 271,

283, 311, 324, 325, 328, 332, 335; “authoritarian technocratic,” 331;

Assembly for the Pope’s Arrival

Index

Religion, Christian,

Roman

Catholic

(cont.)

212, 218n, 219-222, 247, 251-253, 262, 264, 279, 280, 286, 296, 297, 299, 301, 302, 304, 308 media, 221; The Communicator, 221; Diocesan Radio, 221; National Office of Mass Media, 221; Signs of the

Radio Ver280, 302 personnel; bishops, 120, 121, 212, 215, 216, 218, 222, 223, 263, 268, 279, 280, 301; friars, 4, 5, 7; laity, 18, 223, 253, 264, 302; nuns, 124, 215, 217, 261, 279, 302; priests/clergy, 124, 215-220, 222, 223, 261-264, 266, 279, 308 policies: on class struggle, 261; “critical collaboration,” 219; on elections, 284, 299, 300. See also Elections, boycott; on human rights, 222, 261; liberation theology, 212, 216, 335; on violence, 218, 227, 261, Times, 221; Veritas, 280,

itas,

359

340 Revolution, 224, 226, 274, 323, 325, 331,

335 Revolution, 1896—1901, 6, 7, 24, 49 Revolutionary opposition, 102, 127, 204, 211, 227, 228, 231, 232, 264, 274, 287, 325, 335, 339 Revolutionary parties and movements Communist Party (PKP), 66, 100, 182,

223-226, 230, 231; armed struggle, 225; Comintern links, 223, 224;

Huks, 12, 14, 15, 21, 26, 37, 66, 77, 100-102, 146, 167, 189, 207, 214, 224, 225, 231, 337; Tan Malakka, 223

Communist

(CPP[ML-MTT]),

Party

20,

124, 131, 181,217,218, 220, 223, 226, 227, 230, 231, 266, 268, 277, 280, 285, 292-294, 296, 298, 307, 311, 312, 314, 315, 318, 332, 336; agrarian reform, 227; Ang Bayan,

121, 125, 126, 217, 221, 261;

292, 293; armed struggle, 279, 294, 311, 314, 318, 320, 328; external support, 267, 294; factional struggle, 314; Maoist influence, 19, 107, 226, 229-231; New Peoples Army,

Jesuits, 65, 101, 215, 218, 220, 221,

19, 28, 36, 124, 130, 147, 158, 170,

279, 280 religious orders, 4, 5, 216; Association of Major Religious Superiors, 120,

Opus

Dei, 308

246, 280, 307, 308; structure: basic Christian communities, 261-263; Catholic Action, 222; Catholic Women’s League, 222; Conference of Bishops, 215, 217, 218 fn, 221, 279, 280, 300, 322; hierarchy, 49, 215, 220, 222, 223, 262, 279, 317; hospitals, 221; land holdings, 221; National Secretariat for Social Action

(NASSA), 217;

Papal nuncio, 215, 217; Philippine Trust Co., 221; schools. See Educational system, schools, Catholic; Second Vatican Council, 212; Student Catholic Action, 220; Vatican, 38, 216, 279 Religion,

Hinduism, 2

Religion, Islam, 2, 4, 157, 158, 165; Council of Ulamas, 163; hadjis, 30; Koran,

30; Mecca, 30; mosques, 157, 163,

269; schools. See Educational system, schools, madrasah

Religion, Rizalian or millenarian sects, 36, 41, 49, 214; Watawat ng Lahi, 41 Religious opposition, 119, 120, 132,204,

211, 231

Republican Party, 301 Responsiveness, 176, 177, 309, 311, 339,

174, 189, 214, 222, 226, 227,

229-

231, 248, 260-263, 266-269, 272, 289, 292-294, 298, 311-316, 318, 332, 333; parliamentary struggle, 294, 320; relations with church, 231, 261, 279, 308 united front, 217, 227, 281, 285, 294; Association of Nationalist Teachers (KGM), 293; BAYAN, 293, 298; Christians for National Liberation, 217; National Democratic Front, 217, 227, 228, 231, 251, 267, 268, 270, 279, 280, 281, 293, 294, 298, 311, 313-315, 318, 320, 332; Nationalist Alliance for Justice, Freedom and Democracy, 281 Communist Party, U.S.A., 224 fn Socialist Party,

224

Katipunan, 6 Revolutionary situation, 324 “Revolution of 1986,” 301—303, 305; military rebellion, 301—305, 334; nonviolent action, 301—304; “People Power,” 303, 305, 317, 324, 339; “revolutionary government,” 309; role of U.S., 301, 303-305 Rigos, Cirilo, 213 Rizal, Jose, 6, 8, 25,

32,41, 42, 204, 214, 277

1

Index

360

violations of

Roces, Joaquin, 122, 123 Rodrigo, “Soc,” 133

Romualdez

family, 241, 242, 260; Daniel

Succession, rules for, 78, 134, 135, 235, 236, 284, 310; struggle for, 235, 240,

Romualdez, 84; Eduardo “Kokoy” Romualdez, 18 In, 185n; Imelda. See Marcos family Romulo, Carlos, 185 Rono, Jose, 131, 138, 249, 255n, 271

271, 274, 275, 278, 289, 291, 325 Sugar bloc, 16, 262, 323 Suharto, 243 Sukarno, 127, 197 Sullivan, William, 192

Roxas, Gerry, 131, 205, 208, 251 Roxas, Manuel, 14, 76, 95, 97, 101, 102,

Sumulong, Commander, 225 Sweden, 44

224, 225 Roosevelt, Franklin. See United States gov-

Sycip, David, 192

ernment, White House

Sabah. See

Moro

Tadeo, Jaime, 318 Taft, William Howard, 8 Taiwan, 144, 181 Tan, Christine, 261 Tanada, Forenzo, 101, 132, 188, 205, 206, 208-211, 247, 281, 285, 293, 296, 298 Taruc, Luis, 101, 224, 225, 231 Tatad, Francisco, 252

Rebellion

Sacerdoti, Guy, 259

Sadat,

Anwar, 183

Salas, Rodolfo,

312

Salonga, Jovita, 16, 22, 119, 131,206, 208, 210, 211, 247, 285, 296, 307,

323

Technocrats. See Bureaucracy/civil service Thailand, 70, 103, 144, 337 Tolentino, Arturo, 87, 254, 289, 297, 313,

Sanchez, Augusto, 308 Sancho, Nelia, 318 Santos, Alejo, 252, 253 Santos, Dante, 307 Saudi Arabia, 159, 160, 183, 201, 270 Schultz, George, 276, 301

319 Treaty of Paris, 7 Treki, Ali, 184 Turkey, 185

Schurman, Jacob, 8 Senegal, 159

Gerardo, 135, 215, 241 Singapore, 52, 191 Singlaub, John, 316 Sison, Jose Maria, 220, 226—230, 31 Social mobility, 1 1, 49, 69—71; barriers Sicat,

to,

285, 300, 304, 315-317

69 Somalia, 159 Soriano, Andres, 123, 272 Southeast Asia, comparison with, 25, 37, 39, 122, 140, 144 Soviet Union, 186, 230, 294 Spain/Spaniard, 1, 2, 216; rule, 4, 6, 7, 29; compared with 152, 185

Spanish American War, 7 State, 13, 334; state,” 56,

United Democratic Socialist Party of the Philippines (NPDSP), 218 United Kingdom, 5, 299 United Nations, 125, 179; UNCTAD, 183 United States government CIA, 15, 131, 179, 234, 236, 276, 284,

autonomy

of,

329; “soft

327, 340

Student movements,

17,

compared

with, 82, 84,

299

Congress, 7—9, 30, 129, 133, 180—185, 188, 236, 282, 304; House Foreign Affairs Committee, 186; Senate,

7,

185 corporations:

Commodity Credit

Corp.,

191; Export-Import Bank, 189, 191; Overseas Private Investment

Corp., 191

106—108, 110,

226, 229, 230, 264, 272, 332; Bertrand Russell Peace Foundation, 107; “Diliman

colonial rule, 7—12, 25

Commune,”

107; Ka-

bataang Makabayan (KM), 102, 157, 226; Samahan Democratikong Kabataan, 107 Subic Bay. See Philippine-American relations, military

Subversives/subversion, 206, 212, 217, 248, 263, 265. See also Human rights.

Defense Department/Pentagon, 20, 186, 236, 292, 304, 311, 315, 318, 320; Defence Intelligence Agency, 305; Joint U.S. Military Advisory Group (JUSMAG), 145, 184; U.S. Air Force, 203

FBI, 236 laws: Bell

Trade Act,

14, 178;

Immigra-

tion Act, 67; Jones Act, 8, 10, 75,

77; Payne-Aldrich Tariff of 1909, 9; Tydings-McDufhe Act, 9, 75

Index United States government National

Endowment

(cant.)

for Democracy,

298 National Security Council, 315

Vietnam War, 177, 184, 186, 316 Villareal, Luis, 316 Violence, 22, 71, 231, 232, 244, 263, 270, 293, 304; April 6 Liberation Move-

Department, 126, 188, 282, 283, 301, 304; Embassy, 19, 20, 62, 178,

ment, 245, 268; Light-a-hre-Movement, 244; “political armies,” 104,

198, 199, 203, 285, 286, 291, 303,

310, 322; urban violence, 244, 246.

329

See also

State

U.S.

361

Agency for International Development (USAID), 54, 142, 170, 185,

298 White House, 188, 303—305; Ronald Reagan, 190, 202, 236, 247, 275,

Jimmy Carter, 127, 185, 186, 189, 199, 235; Vice Presi-

283, 301, 304;

dent Walter Mondale, 133; Gerald Eord, 185; 220; Richard Nixon, 20; Lyndon Johnson, 180; Franklin Roosevelt, 9-1 1; Woodrow Wilson, 10; William McKinley, 7 Underhill, Frank, 186 Valencia, Teodoro, 118, 132 Vietnam, 7; compared with, 141, 166; relations with, 87;

Anticommunism,

vigilantes

Virata, Cesar, 215, 239, 254, 255n, 260,

271, 273, 277, 291

Weber, Max, 324

Women,

93 World Bank, 121, 191, 194-196, 235, 236, status of, 3, 82,

238, 241, 254, 255, 274, 291, 322, 323. See also Foreign policy: under Marcos, IMF/WB influences on

Yniguez, Nicanor, 295

Youth organizations: Kabataang Barangay, 128, 130, 214; Kabataang Makabayan (KM). See Student movements Zobel, Enrique, 272, 278

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