Monday, Mar. 03, 1986
By Susan Tifft
The mood was
tense as the two men, clad in olive and gray and
blinking into the glare of television lights,
took their seats before a cluster of microphones
in a social hall of the Philippine Ministry of
Defense at Camp Aguinaldo. Behind them huddled
about a dozen soldiers, some in full battle
regalia. Outside, at the gates of the ministry,
less than five miles from Malacanang Palace, the
presidential residence in downtown Manila,
heavily armed guards and tanks stood at the
ready. When the two men began to speak, the
reason for the precautions became startlingly
clear, for they were proclaiming open rebellion
against the 20-year regime of President
Ferdinand Marcos.
Lieut. General
Fidel Ramos, Vice Chief of the armed forces, and
Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile announced
that they were breaking with the unregenerate
Marcos and called for his immediate resignation.
Marcos, Enrile said, had committed fraud in the
Feb. 7 special election, and should step down
"while there is still time." Declared Ramos:
"The time has come to reverse the situation."
By evening,
Marcos, looking tired and shaken, held his own
press conference. The President charged Ramos
and Enrile with treason and called on them to
"stop this stupidity and surrender." He then
accused the pair of taking part in a plot to
assassinate him and his wife Imelda. To prove
that the conspiracy was real, Marcos trotted out
one of the First Lady's personal bodyguards, who
"confessed" before reporters that he was to have
played a role in the murder. Later, Enrile
angrily dismissed the conspiracy charge as "a
bunch of bull."
Even as Marcos
spoke, thousands of Filipinos streamed into the
darkened streets, marching toward Camp Aguinaldo
on the outskirts of Manila. The demonstrators,
many of them carrying candles, were jubilant as
they gathered outside the gates. "Cory! Cory!"
they chanted, invoking the nickname of
Opposition Leader Corazon Aquino, the slight,
bespectacled widow of slain former Senator
Benigno ("Ninoy") Aquino, who had challenged
Marcos for the presidency and lost in an
election tainted by ballot stealing and
bloodshed. Aquino was leading a rally in the
central Philippine city of Cebu when the
uprising occurred at Camp Aguinaldo. Supporters,
fearful for her safety, promptly whisked her
into hiding.
As the crisis
unfolded, the Marcos regime seemed in danger of
unraveling. Jaime Cardinal Sin, who had recently
thrown the weight of the Roman Catholic Church
against Marcos, lost no time backing the
renegade military leaders. "Our two good friends
have shown their idealism," Sin told listeners
over Radio Veritas. "I would be very happy if
you could support them now." The station, owned
and operated by the church, broadcast the names
of prominent Marcos officials who, emboldened by
Ramos and Enrile, announced their resignations.
Among them: Postmaster General Rogelio Golez and
General Ramon Farolan, the Philippine Customs
Commissioner. "I don't think the government can
function," said one high-ranking Marcos aide.
"It's a very tenuous situation."
In Washington,
the Reagan Administration appeared to have been
caught off guard by the events. Ever since the
snap election, the White House has tried to set
a deliberately cautious tone. With two key U.S.
military installations, Subic Bay Naval Station
and Clark Air Base, at stake, the Administration
did not want to rush into a denunciation of
Marcos. The Philippine leader has a reputation
for ruthlessness, and U.S. officials were
concerned that he might use loyal elements of
the military to crush his opponents. On the
other hand, the White House did not want to be
seen as abandoning Aquino, thereby driving at
least part of the moderate opposition into the
arms of the Communist New People's Army.
The decisive
move by Enrile and Ramos seemed to encourage the
Administration to adopt a sterner posture toward
Marcos. Even before U.S. officials had a chance
to debrief Presidential Envoy Philip Habib, who
was flying home from the Philippines, the White
House issued its strongest expression yet of
anti- Marcos sentiment. Although the statement
stopped short of endorsing the rebellion, it
denounced Marcos for electoral fraud "so extreme
as to impair the capacity of government in the
Philippines."
Marcos'
critics on Capitol Hill were equally outspoken.
"Marcos has lost whatever shred of legitimacy he
had," said Congressman Stephen Solarz, a New
York Democrat. Republican Senator Richard Lugar,
leader of the 20-member team of U.S. observers
that monitored the Philippine election, was even
more ominous. Said he: "President Marcos has
lost the church, he has lost the middle class,
and clearly he is now in the process of losing
military support."
That was
precisely what most worried Washington. Since
Marcos declared martial law 13 years ago, the
Philippine military has grown into a modern
force of 230,000. But under General Fabian Ver,
the armed forces' Chief of Staff, it has also
become top-heavy with brass and riddled by
corruption. Sagging morale has spawned sharp
divisions within the ranks. A reformist
movement, composed predominantly of young
officers concerned about the corps' lack of
professionalism, has emerged in the past year
(see box). At his press conference, Marcos
pointedly maintained that the bulk of the
Philippine military supports him. Indeed, many
soldiers and officers do not. That fact raised
an almost unthinkable scenario: the possibility
of a civil war between two camps of a divided
nation, each backed by heavily armed military
factions.
Both Enrile
and Ramos were longtime Marcos loyalists who,
for different reasons, had become progressively
disenchanted with his regime. Until the Camp
Aguinaldo press conference, Defense Minister
Enrile had shown little sign of restiveness.
There had been widespread speculation, however,
that he would be leaving the Marcos Cabinet. But
there was no warning that the Harvard law
graduate and architect of martial law would help
mount a revolt. What may have tipped the scales
was Enrile's discovery that officers loyal to
Marcos were about to arrest opposition leaders
and members of the military-reform movement. The
allegation was later denied by the Philippine
President.
In a
surprising disclosure, Enrile revealed last week
that he had helped organize the reformists. He
said his defection from the government was "an
act of contrition for what I did during martial
law," which Marcos had imposed between 1972 and
1981. Defending his dramatic action, Enrile
explained, "I was affected by a moral dilemma:
my loyalty to a man, and my loyalty to my
country. I chose to serve my country." He added,
"If I had had vision, I would have left the
government long ago."
Central to the
motivation of both men was General Ver, who had
effectively appropriated their functions within
the military and the Cabinet. The U.S. has long
pressured Marcos to get rid of Ver, who last
December was acquitted along with 25 others of
conspiracy charges in the August 1983
assassination of Ninoy Aquino at Manila
International Airport. Marcos announced last
week that Ver would retire on March 1 and Ramos
would become "acting" head of the armed
services. But most military and government
officials speculated that Ver would still keep
his more powerful position as director of the
civilian intelligence organization. "Marcos was
just fooling us, fooling the entire world,"
Ramos told reporters.
Enrile and
Ramos took pains to make it clear that they were
not mounting a military coup, and would support
Aquino against Marcos. "I believe in my whole
heart that Aquino was duly elected President,"
said Enrile. "She is the rightful owner of the
mandate of the people." Perhaps. But there was
no indication that Marcos was prepared to loosen
his lock grip on power without a fight. By
week's end he was making increasingly menacing
noises about taking action to "liquidate" the
forces backing the two rebels. "We will not be
able to stay from forceful action for very
long," he warned.
Only hours
before the electrifying events at Camp Aguinaldo,
U.S. Special Envoy Habib boarded a U.S. Air
Force plane to fly back to Washington after his
week-long visit. President Reagan had dispatched
the diplomatic troubleshooter to Manila to find
some way of resolving the country's electoral
crisis just as the National Assembly was
formally declaring Marcos President. Habib is
expected to make a report to Reagan early this
week.
In light of
the surprise revolt, it was not clear precisely
what Habib had accomplished during his hectic
meetings with Marcos, Aquino and church leaders.
From the outset, however, his mission had been
hampered by a presidential gaffe that had
aroused suspicion on both sides. Though nearly
all election-day reports of vote fraud involved
Marcos supporters, Reagan offhandedly told a
news conference on Feb. 11 that abuse might have
occurred on both sides. A few days later the
White House reversed itself, issuing a statement
that blamed Marcos for the irregularities.
The flip-flop
made for a cool reception at the presidential
Malacanang Palace. Habib twice met with Marcos.
On the first visit, the President handed Habib
alleged photographic evidence of ballot stealing
by Aquino supporters. Afterward, Habib had no
comment, but Marcos said the veteran
troubleshooter had assured him that the U.S.
"was not in any way telling us how to run our
affairs." Habib was similarly silent after a
55-minute visit with Aquino. The meeting was
apparently cordial but ended on a somber note as
Aquino reiterated her position that a truce with
Marcos was impossible. Said she: "I made it
clear that in no way could I be part of the
Marcos government."
Aquino's
tenacity was apparent earlier in the week when
she kicked off her "People's Victory" campaign
at a rally in Manila's Rizal Park. While
hundreds of thousands of supporters swirled
below her, Aquino announced a program of
nonviolent protest designed to pressure Marcos
into calling it quits. At the center of the
campaign is a boycott of businesses, news media
and banks controlled by the government or Marcos
intimates. The culmination is a 24-hour work
stoppage planned for this week, one day after
Marcos' scheduled Feb. 25 inauguration.
As the boycott
took hold, Manila was abuzz with speculation
that some of the seven banks singled out by
Aquino had lost large deposits and that the
government-controlled Bulletin Today (circ.
250,000) had suffered a plunge in readership.
But there was little evidence that the tactics
had done more than make investors nervous. The
day after the Manila rally, the price of shares
in the San Miguel Corp., a blue-chip
conglomerate controlled by Marcos Ally Eduardo
Cojuango, plummeted 15%. Shunning San Miguel's
products, which range from beer to ice cream,
may prove difficult for most Filipinos. "Ask me
anything," said one Manila businessman with a
weak smile. "But don't ask me to give up my San
Miguel beer."
Meanwhile,
there were signs that the economy, already
reeling from soaring unemployment and a foreign
debt of $26 billion, was in for new jolts. Last
week the Philippine Central Bank raised interest
rates on treasury bills from about 20% to 30%.
Commercial banks immediately hiked their prime
and commercial lending rates. Reflecting a dip
in business confidence, the peso fell 10%
against the dollar. Said Felix Maramba, chairman
of the Philippine Chamber of Commerce: "Marcos'
credibility is zilch."
That
observation was underscored by the international
response to Marcos' re-election, which ranged
from lukewarm to hostile. In 1981, when Marcos
defeated a little-known challenger, he received
28 official letters of congratulation from
leaders around the world. This time only the
Soviet ambassador conveyed his best wishes.
Several West European diplomats emerged from a
meeting with Aquino last week and indicated that
they might boycott Marcos' inauguration. And by
week's end Belgium and Canada announced flatly
that they would not attend. The Reagan
Administration, for its part, had not yet
decided whom it would send to the ceremony.
Before Enrile
and Ramos threw down the gauntlet, Washington
seemed content to play for time in the explosive
Philippines. In testimony before the Senate
Budget Committee, Secretary of State George
Shultz urged Congress to avoid "precipitous
action" against Marcos. But he hinted that the
Administration might consider withdrawing from
Subic and Clark if it could be determined that
the Marcos government was illegitimate. "Let's
put our stake in democracy and freedom above the
bases," he said. Defense Secretary Caspar
Weinberger went before the House Foreign Affairs
Committee to argue against a cutoff in
Philippine military assistance. Said he: "The
only real beneficiary of a delayed or diminished
military-aid program would be the New People's
Army."
Congress was
in no mood for such admonitions. By a vote of 85
to 9, the Senate approved a nonbinding
resolution declaring that the Philippine
elections were "marked by such widespread fraud
that they cannot be considered a fair reflection
of the will of the people." The next day, the
House Asian and Pacific Affairs Subcommittee
voted 9 to 0 in favor of a temporary cutoff of
military and economic aid to the Philippines.
Under the legislation, most military aid would
go into a trust fund and would be released only
after the President certified, and Congress
agreed, that a "legitimate government has been
established." Economic and humanitarian funds
would be channeled through private voluntary
organizations and the Roman Catholic Church.
Such drastic measures may not be necessary if a
peaceful way can be found to ease Marcos out.
But that moment may still be a while in coming.
At a press conference on Sunday, Marcos produced
several more conspirators and, with General Ver
close at hand, reiterated that he was in control
of the Philippine military. "Contrary to the
claim of some people," said Marcos, "the armed
forces is united behind the President." Ramos,
on the other hand, contended that 95% of the
country's provincial commanders were sympathetic
to the reformists.
The President
seemed determined to go through with his
inauguration this week. However, the government
that he ushers in is certain to be a government
in name only. After enduring martial law, the
Aquino assassination and a corrupt national
election, the Filipino tolerance for wrongdoing
finally seems to have reached its limits.
Nothing emphasized that point so dramatically as
the thousands of civilians who flocked to Camp
Aguinaldo on Sunday, effectively offering to
serve as buffers to any possible action by
Marcos against the reformers.
Whatever the
outcome, last weekend's rebellion seemed to
bring to a head a long-felt yearning for
democratically elected leaders. Whether a
transition of power in Manila can take place
without bloodshed was, as this week began, in
doubt. Unlike the grisly upheavals in Iran and
Nicaragua, events in the Philippines last week
seemed to unfold in a kind of slow motion that
augured well for civil order. "There is a lot of
caution in the Filipino people," noted one
Pentagon official. Marcos may try to buy time by
entering into negotiations with Enrile and
Ramos. Even in that event, violence may be
unavoidable. "If things remain as they are now,
it will continue to be a stalemate," said
General Farolan. "The military solution may have
to be resorted to."
The first
indication of how Marcos reacts under these
volatile conditions may come this week if Aquino
and her followers go through with their plan to
stage a 24-hour strike. Marcos hinted last week
that he might use force to quell any outbreak of
civil disobedience. Stung by world opinion and
holed up in a palace surrounded by barbed-wire
barricades, Marcos may try to reassert his
power. If that should happen, the only tempering
influence left may be Cory Aquino. "She must
steer a moderate course," said Businessman Jaime
Ongpin late last week. "If she opts for
violence, we will end up in anarchy."
With reporting
by Sandra Burton and
Nelly Sindayen/Manila
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