The author, cousin of a classmate was recently honored in Hongkong by the Asian Journalists-his novel
the Illustrados halled here in NY as well.
From the NY Times ... about the new RP president.
May 19, 2010
And if This Leader Should Happen to Fall...
By MIGUEL SYJUCO
Once upon a time, everything made sense. Ferdinand Marcos was evil, Benigno Aquino was good. Poverty was caused by the dictator and his Iron Butterfly, Imelda. The fastest progressing nation in the region became "the sick man of Asia" only because of the loss of democracy. There's no better excuse for problems than having had a despot.
Last week's Philippine elections, however, prove that things aren't that simple for us. If indeed they ever were.
During the Marcos years, my family lived in Vancouver. My earliest memory of being Filipino was watching my parents glued to the television. People in yellow massed in Manila, linking arms, praying, singing. On the "Edsa" (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue), they peacefully confronted soldiers. The anchorman that night, I remember, declared: "We Americans like to think we taught Filipinos democracy. Well, tonight, they're teaching the world."
In 1986, "People Power" repudiated Marcos's electoral fraud and enshrined as president Corazon Aquino, widow of the martyred Benigno. The Edsa Revolution inspired the world. It was bloodless, clean and simple. It brought my family home to a hopeful country.
In my first years back, I saw many illogical things. On the streets, kids my age sniffed glue and begged with glassy eyes. By the church, lepers held stumps out for coins. In government, movie stars, newscasters and basketball players ruled. My father entered politics, and I encountered deep poverty on the campaign trail. Unsuccessful coups rocked Aquino's government. It was easy to sympathize with the president and the mess she'd inherited.
In 1992, I saw another Edsa Revolution hero, Fidel Ramos, democratically elected president. His tenure inched us toward "Philippines 2000," a plan to turn us into an industrialized country.
After Ramos's six-year term, the actor Joseph Estrada won the top spot. Despite doubts about his ability and integrity, his landslide seemed to be a testament to mass movements and democracy. Hope crumbled quickly. As Estrada's failures turned into outright crime, Filipinos were faced with a leader who let them down. Again.
As with Marcos, Estrada's reign reinforced the facile absolutes of good and evil. Estrada was clearly the latter, with his mistresses, his disdain for respectability, and the cronies of his "Midnight Cabinet" feasting on late-night buffets and slurping Château Pétrus by the case. The scandals led to corruption charges and impeachment.
In early 2001, during the Second Edsa Revolution, I joined the thousands marching against Estrada. His Senate cohorts were handling his trial, and they'd refused to open an envelope believed to contain damning evidence. We converged on Edsa, at the statue of the Virgin commemorating the events of 1986. Songs were sung, prayers prayed, and jet fighters screamed across the sky as a sign that the military had switched their support. Estrada was ousted. His vice president, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, took his place amid fanfare. Estrada was given a life term for plunder.
When I left to study abroad that year, the mood was once again hopeful. Arroyo seemed a breed apart. In a country where corruption may be considered a tolerable necessity to make ends meet, she was wealthy enough to eschew embezzlement. Arroyo had been Bill Clinton's classmate at Georgetown and received a Ph.D. in economics. I'd gone to school with her kids, and they seemed decent.
But in 2004, Arroyo reneged on her promise not to seek reelection. She faced Fernando Poe Jr., an iconic actor and pal of Estrada. Poe's victory would likely have seen Estrada pardoned, and the cycle of disappointment would continue. The funny thing about hope is that it can give you tunnel vision: Claims that Arroyo rigged the election seemed, to me, the lesser of two evils - as if it was better to have good people cheat than bad people win fairly. Arroyo's goodness, however, was disappearing, gradually and then swiftly.
At first it was easy to dismiss her scandals as black propaganda, flung by those who'd backed Estrada. But the allegations grew kilometric. Her responses became insouciant. Arroyo's popularity plunged lower than any president since Marcos.
I, like many, saw the Philippines heading for a dead end. If this president had betrayed us, who else was there to lead us out of the hole dug by her predecessors? In fact, many of those opposing Arroyo were those who'd sanctioned Estrada's larceny. If there's one instance of pretzel logic I've learned from Philippine politics, it's that bad people doing selfish things can sometimes move toward the common good.
But what of the clear lines between good and evil? I still wonder: Was it Arroyo who was corrupt, or was it the system? This is an important question for our next president.
Now we've come to Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III, son of a martyr and a saint of democracy. Entering the race after his mother Corazon died last year, Noynoy's landslide speaks to his apparent integrity, the paucity of palatable alternatives and the bling of the Aquino brand. His critics say giving him power is only handing it back to the same elites who've let us down for the last century.
However noble Aquino's intentions may be, he now faces a minefield of corruption, political patronage and shifting allegiances. And Arroyo is sticking around like a bad virus - she's won a seat in Congress and is maneuvering to be speaker of the house. As the Marcoses have shown, there's always a second act in Philippine politics.
Just as Ferdinand won it for Corazon, Gloria has made possible our faith in Noynoy. There's nothing like a despot to simplify choices. But that recurring cycle of optimism and disillusionment has turned Filipinos cynical. And cynicism, to paraphrase, is the last refuge of the hopeful.
In a country where celebrity trumps ideology, nobody knows if Noynoy's star power will give way to the idealism we hope he has. And if experience has taught us anything, nothing comes that easily. Ninety million people are watching, waiting. Please, Noynoy, don't let us down.
Miguel Syjuco is the author of "Ilustrado," a novel about Philippine politics.
