A summary of the present state of the political situation in the Philippines
form the time of former President Joseph Estrada to the present state of the
Philippines and the current political "crisis," under President Gloria Macapagal
Arroyo.]
A new round of scandal has brought democracy in the Philippines to breaking
point. If democratic revival is possible it can only come from the people
themselves, says Steven Rogers.
The president of the Philippines, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, was on top of the
world only fifteen months ago. Elected vice-president in 1998, she became
president in 2001, when Joseph Estrada was forced from office by popular
demonstrations. Her early performance earned approval from the Philippine
business community, foreign governments, and multilateral institutions; but the
less-than-democratic succession left lingering questions of legitimacy, and in
the elections of May 2004 Arroyo pursued a new mandate with a near-fanatical
intensity.
After a contentious and clumsily managed five-way election Arroyo emerged with a
small but clear margin of victory over popular actor and political neophyte
Fernando Poe Jr. An exultant Arroyo, facing a new six-year term, promised to put
politics behind her and focus on confronting the growing threats of insurgency,
terrorism, poverty, and fiscal crisis.
Today her administration is accused of graft and election fraud, and she is
fighting for survival. Arroyo is beset by the products of her own errors, by a
series of manipulations that seemed, at the time they were undertaken, to be
justified by necessity, and by the weight of decades of deepening systemic
crisis. Arroyo refuses to fall and cannot do more than stand, and neither she
nor her opponents offer any credible avenue for reform. The crisis threatens to
undo one of the developing world’s longest-running experiments in democracy, and
bears examination by proponents of democratic transition everywhere.
A cumulative crisis
Arroyo’s troubles reach back to the tumultuous fall of her predecessor, Joseph
Estrada, a popular actor who gained fame portraying poor characters forced by
circumstance to fight against injustice. Estrada won election by a decisive
margin in 1998, riding a platform short on policy and heavily padded with
generic promises of justice and sympathy for the poor majority.
Once in office, he set aside the interests of the poor and satisfied his own
appetites and those of the cronies and political hacks who rose to power
alongside him. The formal cabinet was virtually ignored, with real power vested
in a “midnight cabinet” of cronies, who made key decisions in the midst of
drinking bouts. Estrada’s numerous mistresses and their families moved into palatial homes, and
powerful posts were handed out as rewards for personal favors. The economy
slumped, and terrorism surged in the southern island of Mindanao, with Estrada
cronies allegedly receiving large kickbacks from ransom paid for the release of
hostages held by the notorious militant Islamist group, Abu Sayyaf.
Estrada’s disastrous decisions and boorish personal manners generated opposition
from the middle class, the Catholic church, the organized left, the business
community, and political elite factions who had not allied themselves with the
new president. None of these groups had Estrada’s mass following, but they did
have considerable resources, and they were determined to find a lever to remove
the elected president, justifying this breach of democratic practice with the
argument, not unreasonable under the circumstances, that Estrada was destroying
the country. Halfway through Estrada’s term a member of a prominent political clan testified
that he had personally delivered payoffs to Estrada from gambling syndicates
managing jueteng, an illegal but ubiquitous numbers game. Jueteng payoffs have
been a standard perk for Philippine local officials and policemen for decades,
but Estrada brought them to the top table. A picture soon emerged of vast sums
of grease money being poured into personal indulgences, including mansions
occupied by Estrada’s mistresses. Impeachment proceedings were initiated, and
when Estrada’s allies blocked the introduction of key evidence, large
demonstrations dominated by the middle class paralyzed Manila. Estrada’s long-marginalized
formal cabinet deserted, as did the police and the armed forces. Estrada never
acknowledged the legitimacy of his successor, but was forced to step down.
The immediate beneficiary of his move was Arroyo, a relative outsider who had
run for vice-president on a ticket separate from Estrada’s and parlayed a famous
name – her father Diosdado was president from 1962-65 – and her background as an
economics professor into a decisive win. Estrada kept her on the outside of his
administration, but this distance served her well when his administration
collapsed, and her calm, articulate manner and evident sophistication provided a
welcome relief to the upper- and middle-class Filipinos who had been so
embarrassed by Estrada’s eccentricities.
The return to the maelstrom
Arroyo moved decisively against the combination of Muslim separatists,
terrorists, and bandits that has long plagued the southern islands, inviting
American forces for joint operations in the area. She sent a small contingent of
Philippine troops to Iraq – though they were later withdrawn after a Filipino
worker was kidnapped – drawing US approval and a substantial aid package. Her
economic policies aimed at returning to the market-oriented reforms that had
generated solid growth during the administration of Fidel Ramos, Estrada’s
predecessor, and at addressing the government’s perennial revenue collection.
Foreigners and the business community were satisfied, but Arroyo’s relationship
with her constituents was uncertain. A few months after she took office,
demonstrations larger than those that expelled Estrada, drawn from the fallen
president’s base of poor voters, took to the streets to protest Estrada’s arrest
on charges of plunder, a capital crime. Arroyo weathered that crisis, but her
approval ratings were never impressive, and her popular mandate was
questionable. As the 2004 elections approached, Estrada’s cronies, dominating
the political opposition, tried to replicate Estrada’s magical grip on the poor
voter by selecting another actor, Fernando Poe Jr, to lead their bid to return
to power.
Poe was the worst nightmare of educated Filipinos. He had little formal
education and no political experience, and was little more than a tool of the
Estrada clique, but his vast popularity as the “king of Philippine movies” made
him seem unbeatable. Poe’s erratic behavior and obvious discomfort with the
campaign process narrowed the odds, as did the independent candidacy of Panfilo
Lacson, a former Estrada police chief who drew off a significant percentage of
the Estrada vote, but Arroyo still managed to prevail only with a slim margin.
Her supporters, delighted to be rid of Poe, slammed the door on accusations of
election fraud, and Poe died of a stroke – from heartbreak, his supporters
claimed – several months after the election.
Arroyo dedicated the first year of her new term to raising sufficient revenue to
cut the titanic government deficit. Philippine governments have never been able
to collect more than a small percentage of income taxes due, and Arroyo’s
flagship tax proposal quietly declared surrender on this front, shifting the
burden of revenue collection to an expanded value-added tax (Vat). Arroyo’s new
tax would have raised rates and included fuel and electricity; economists hailed
the measure as necessary, but oppositionists of left and right quickly pointed
out that the burden of the tax would fall mainly on working people.
The condition of the poor did not significantly improve in Arroyo’s first three
years as president; economists pointed out that she was trying to build a
foundation for a government that had the capacity for effective action against
poverty, a capacity it clearly did not have when she took office, but opponents
were quick to brand her anti-poor.
Arroyo’s tax proposal was approved in May, and with the administration facing
the difficult combination of an uncontrollable surge in fuel prices and the need
to implement a necessary but painful tax hike, the opposition struck back. The
first round came from a series of witnesses claiming to have delivered jueteng
payoffs to Arroyo’s husband and son. Far more damaging was the subsequent
release of a series of wiretapped recordings that included conversations between
Arroyo and election commissioner Virgilio Garcillano, which appeared to include
discussion of a plan to subtract votes from Poe’s count and add them to
Arroyo’s, an established tactic known locally as dagdag-bawas (add-subtract).
The tapes reignited the controversy over the 2004 elections, and despite initial
denials, Arroyo eventually admitted to having discussed the count with
Garcillano, calling the conversation a “lapse in judgment” and denying that she
had cheated. The denials were not widely believed. Poll numbers showed trust in
Arroyo plummeting, and her position grew more tenuous by the day. The uproar
climaxed on 8 July, when ten cabinet members – including influential finance
secretary Cesar Purisima, resigned, requesting Arroyo to do the same. Groups and
individuals ranging from the stodgily corporate Makati Business Club to
left-wing NGOs to political icon Cory Aquino called upon Arroyo to step down for
the good of the nation, opponents and supporters rallied in the streets, and for
several days in mid July, the end of Arroyo’s presidency seemed imminent.
A paralysing stalemate
Since then Arroyo’s position has improved, despite potentially explosive
allegations that jueteng money was paid to election commissioners during a
pre-election dinner at Arroyo’s house. Opposition politicians, unable to bring
street rallies to anything approaching a critical mass, have initiated
impeachment proceedings against Arroyo. The president claims to welcome the
move, as well she might: the lower house of the legislature, which must ratify
an impeachment before it is sent to the senate, is dominated by her allies,
notably master legislative manipulator Jose de Venecia.
Opposition politicians are unlikely to force Arroyo from office legally: the
wiretapped conversations were illegally obtained and probably inadmissible as
evidence, and the legislature is stacked with Arroyo’s allies. Even if an
impeachment were successful, vice-president Noli de Castro would succeed Arroyo,
which the opposition has already declared an unacceptable outcome. The
impeachment proceeding seems less an attempt to remove Arroyo through a
constitutional process than an effort to recreate the circumstances surrounding
Estrada’s ouster: opposition figures hope that if the pro-Arroyo majority in
congress moves to block the impeachment, the people will take to the streets and
force a resignation.
This plan is not likely to succeed, because neither the poor nor the middle
class seem interested in taking to the streets. The opposition is led by an
unconvincing alliance between the Estrada/Poe demagogues and a motley collection
of hard-left ideologues. The Estrada/Poe group relies on paid rallyists drawn
from Manila’s poorest slums, the left on a core group of radicals that is rarely
able to generate more than a few thousand noisy but ineffectual supporters.
Neither has enough support to overthrow a government; nor is likely to gain the
support of the military, the Catholic church, or other key players; nor is
likely to generate mass demonstrations large enough to force a change in power.
This “people power fatigue” is not simply a consequence of ennui. The original
“people power” revolution in 1986, the overthrow of Ferdinand Marcos, was a
rebellion against a brutal and corrupt dictator who had held the nation under
his thumb for twenty years. The demonstrations against Estrada were triggered by
corruption allegations and moves to quash an impeachment proceeding, but beneath
those overt causes lay a deep perception that Estrada was a national disaster
and a national embarrassment.
While his removal may have been less than democratic, it was seen as a case
where democracy had to be broken in order to save it. Once again, an acceptable
leadership alternative was available, in a legitimate and qualified
constitutional successor with few ties to the disgraced president. None of these
circumstances prevail today. Arroyo may not be everyone’s idea of a perfect
president, but she is neither a dictator nor a disaster. Allegations of
corruption and election fraud engender resentment but little shock among
Filipinos, who have heard the same litany many times before.
The opposition has failed to present a credible leadership option, even for an
extra-constitutional process. Fernando Poe, the ostensibly cheated candidate, is
dead. Some oppositionists have tried to recruit his widow, actress Susan Roces,
but Roces hardly seems cut out to lead a nation. Former police chief Panfilo
Lacson, who placed a distant third in the 2004 election, is waving his hand
wildly in the background, but there is little evident interest in sending him
the call. The Estrada faction of the opposition has vaguely proposed a
“governing council” to supervise a new election: not surprisingly, the members
of the council they propose would be drawn from their ranks.
The left is demanding a “transition government” composed of “pro-people”
figures, without proposing how such a government might be selected or to whom it
would be accountable. Either would be completely outside any existing legal or
constitutional structure. The opposition has effectively paralyzed Arroyo’s
government, but has neither effective leadership nor a coherent platform. Faced
with these realities, Filipinos are not likely to produce another “people power”
revolution.
Somewhere in the mass of accusation and denial is a simple question: did Arroyo
actually cheat? The tapes, which can be seen simply as a leader asking for
reassurance, are not absolute evidence. A pattern of statistically improbable
returns and accounts, some still not public, from the regions in Mindanao where
cheating was allegedly focused does suggest that cheating on a significant scale
probably did take place. It is also likely, given the prospect of Fernando Poe
leading the discredited relics of Estrada’s regime back to power, that those who
cheated honestly believed that they were performing a patriotic and necessary
act. As in the downfall of Estrada, democracy was broken in order to save it.
There is an uneasy feeling, though, that it may have been broken, even with the
best of motives, so many times that it may be impossible to put back together.
In search of a new democracy
Arroyo’s defence has been to blame the system: in one of her more revealing
public comments, she claimed: “our political system has degenerated to such an
extent that it is very difficult to move within the system with hands totally
untainted.” She has also offered, as an alternative to resignation or
impeachment, to try to fix the system, proposing a constitutional convention to
supervise a transition from the current Manila-centered presidential system to a
federal republic with a parliamentary government. Her opponents, while conceding
that fundamental change is necessary, have denounced the offer as an effort to
distract attention from the charges against her. The accusation is legitimate,
but since this is the only serious proposal for change on the table at the
moment, it deserves consideration.
Proposals for a shift to a federal parliamentary system have been floating about
for years, presented by a number of diverse sources. Power in the Philippines is
now centered heavily in Manila, with a powerful executive branch often at odds
with the legislature, which is composed of a regionally elected house of
representatives and a nationally elected senate. Proponents of federalism claim
that the move would bring the government closer to the people, often making
extravagant predictions of immediate redemption through federalism.
Supporters of parliamentary government point to the potential reduction of
legislative/executive gridlock and smoother processes for removing errant
executives. Both proposals have serious drawbacks, though, and many of those who
promote them are pursuing their own interests, not the nation’s.
The Philippines’ house of representatives has become the power-base of the old
regionally based political elite. It is dominated by members of the traditional
political clans, many of which have an absolute lock on their districts, but
lack the national prominence needed to gain election to the senate, which has
consequently come to be dominated by nationally known actors, athletes, media
figures, and other celebrities.
Not surprisingly, the members of the old political elite are rallying behind
proposals for a unicameral parliament, in which regionally elected
representatives would elect and control the executive. Supporters of this scheme
point out that it would prevent a Joseph Estrada or a Fernando Poe Jr from
attaining executive power. This is true, and an advantage, but it would also
effectively turn the country back over to an extremely regressive feudal elite.
This is the model that Arroyo is now promoting, though it is not clear whether
she sees it as a genuine improvement or as a lever to persuade members of the
lower house to block the impeachment proceeding.
The critical flaw that proponents of parliamentarism overlook is that
parliamentary systems need political parties to function, and the Philippines
has no political parties. Elections are contested by vague, transient,
ideologically undifferentiated coalitions, and politicians float freely among
them. With no national parties, no ideological distinction between contending
coalitions, and the ever-present possibility of a new government taking power, a
parliamentary government will almost certainly devolve into a merry-go-round of
political manipulations and constantly changing governments.
Federalism is also not the panacea it is made out to be. The principle of
bringing government closer to the people is admirable in principle, but the
process of establishing another layer of government and delineating the various
functions of the federal and state governments is likely to be far more chaotic
in practice than in principle. Economic disparities among states will be severe;
proposals for shifting revenue from prosperous states to less prosperous are
easy to discuss but difficult to implement. Worst of all, an effort to bring
power closer to the people may result, in many cases, a system that can easily
be controlled by the traditional regional elites.
Several coherent proposals for a federal/parliamentary government have been
presented, notably that of Jose B Abueva, published on the site of the
Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism.
In theory, such a transition could produce a government structure no worse, and
potentially better, than the existing one. In practice, the cost and chaos of
the transition and the likelihood of the new system being manipulated to serve
the interests of the traditional elite make significant improvement unlikely.
For all its faults, the existing system has some advantages: single six-year
terms should reduce politicking between elections, and a powerful central
government could control the excesses of the traditional regional elites. This
potential has not been met, but the obstacle is one of political culture, not
political structure.
Culture, not structure---- The ruling party offers an expensive and time-consuming shift to a system likely
to be no better than the existing one. The Estrada/Poe opposition offers nothing
but their desire to return to office. The left offers a screeching catalogue of
impossible demands and 1970s-vintage socialist mantras. None of them seem likely
to produce constructive change. This does not mean the country is doomed, it
means that the existing approaches are not providing the necessary direction and
impetus for reform.
The governing elite in the Philippines has traditionally been almost completely
exempt from the law. This exemption has crippled attempts at political and
economic reform: elections and markets succeed through competition, and
competition doesn’t happen when some players don’t have to follow the rules.
Even when members of this elite have an honest desire to see circumstances
change for the better, they still try to cling to their old prerogatives, even
though these prerogatives are fundamentally incompatible with progress. No
amount of structural change will make a difference until a change in political
culture – specifically, the removal of the elite exemption from the law – is
imposed.
This will not be done by the political elite.The standard response to this conundrum is to turn to the power of the people.
To the frustration of the left, though, this power has proved to be a fickle and
uncertain instrument. This is a problem that faces democratic transitions
throughout the developing world: the poor people have overwhelming voting power,
but often have only the most rudimentary idea of what policies will actually
serve their long-term interests.
In the Philippines, as in many post-dictatorship democracies, many poor voters
have fond memories of the dictator’s attempts to placate them with subsidies and
price controls, and look kindly on the paternalistic politicians who can be
approached for favours and handouts. Their idea of a government that serves
their interests is, all too often, a government that provides these.
Efforts to explain that the local politicians deliver only a fraction of their
gains from corruption while suppressing productive activity that they can’t
control, or that subsidies and price controls ultimately bankrupt the
government, or that the government has to balance its budget before it can put
resources into development, often go unheard. Instead, the poor fall easy prey
to demagogues of left and right, who manipulate mass frustration to gain support
agendas that produce little or no benefit for the people.
Philippines rising. Despite this apparent dead end, there is an alternative source of leadership
rising in the Philippines. The country has a significant and growing middle
class of educated and internationally connected professionals, skilled workers,
and entrepreneurs, a class that shares important common interests with the poor
– most notably in bringing the governing elite within the rule of law – and has
the sophistication, pragmatism, and practical experience to develop effective
policies.
This middle class is largely young, and while it has flexed its political muscle
on several occasions, notably in the rebellions against Marcos and Estrada, it
has not yet achieved a fraction of its potential for political leadership. If
this potential is achieved, and if effective political bridges are built between
the middle class and the people as a whole, the basic changes in the political
culture that are needed for democracy to function could be achieved. If this
potential is not achieved, the nation will continue to flounder, and will
eventually face a regression out of democracy through a coup or revolution led
by demagogues who will manipulate and eventually betray the people.
Can those outside the Philippines do anything to help? Not much. Foreign
governments must make it very clear that any attempt to change the government by
force will receive no recognition or support. Aid agencies, whether private or
public, can provide some assistance but must ultimately concede that the primary
obstacles to Philippine development are political, not financial or technical.
Scholars, analysts, and commentators need to openly address the reality that the
traditional prerogatives of the elite are fundamentally incompatible with the
statements about progress and development that so many members of that elite
issue on a regular basis.
Ultimately, though, these issues can only be addressed and resolved by
Filipinos. This is not a broken state that needs to be escorted and assisted
through its first steps toward democracy. It is a country that stands on the
verge of democratic maturity, requiring only that its people stand up and claim
what is theirs. Democracy cannot be given to Filipinos by any outside power, nor
can they wait for an enlightened ruler to appear and bestow good government upon
them. They will have to do it themselves.
Philippines’ democracy in turmoil
By Steven Rogers 8-16-05
Impeachment
Unsuccessful, Rallies Poorly Attended But Becoming
Nuisances and Continuing
Arroyo wants Makati rallies stopped
Sept 22, 2005, Updated 04:29pm (Mla time), Joel Francis
Guinto, INQ7.net
PRESIDENT Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo wants street protests in
the Makati financial district to end, saying they have
caused businesses "millions of pesos" in losses.
Arroyo said on Thursday that business leaders, employees,
commuters and students have complained about the disruption
caused by frequent protest marches in the city.
"We cannot let this continue," Arroyo said in a statement.
"Our policy of maximum tolerance has been abused, these
rights have become licentious, to the detriment of the peace
and order and welfare of the greater majority."
On Wednesday, thousands of protesters demonstrated against
Arroyo in Makati. A major part of Ayala Avenue, Makati’s main artery, was
closed to traffic during the protest.
On the same day, Malacañang scrapped its "maximum tolerance"
policy in favor of a "calibrated preemptive response,"
saying street protests could be used by leftist groups as a
springboard for toppling the government.
"We should bear in mind that liberty is not a license,
Liberty is the freedom to do right and never wrong," she
said. Under the new regulations issued on the 33rd anniversary of
the declaration of martial law, only rallies with permits
will be allowed.
Wednesday's rally in Makati had a permit from the city's
staunchly anti-Arroyo mayor, Jejomar Binay.
The Philippine National Police also defended the new policy.
"The rule of law must prevail. Any violation of the law must
be met with corresponding police action and whoever will
violate the law will be held liable under the justice
system," PNP spokesman Chief Superintendent Leopoldo Bataoil
said in a statement.
Bataoil said the PNP lowered its alert to "normal" as of 6
a.m. Thursday.
Metro Manila police were earlier placed on full alert while
other police units were placed on the next highest alert
level for the anti-Arroyo rallies on Wednesday.
"The PNP is now back to crime prevention, and high police
visibility in public places shall be maintained," Bataoil
said.
Field commanders, however, were authorized to raise alert
level in their respective areas when the need arises, he
said.
Allegations she rigged the 2004 elections sparked the worst
political storm of Arroyo's career.
The President escaped impeachment two weeks ago after her
allies at the House of Representatives dismissed all charges
against her.
Her opponents have vowed to take their fight to the streets
but crowds in recent rallies paled in comparison to those in
the 1986 and 2001 "People Power" revolts that ousted the
late dictator Ferdinand Marcos and former president Joseph
Estrada.
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