Feb 27, 2011

Fred Lim at EDSA

By Nick Joaquin (The Philippine Star) Updated February 22, 2011 12:00 A

MANILA, Philippines - It was part of his turf as superintendent of the Northern Police District and so General Edo Lim knew of the crisis on EDSA from the start. Early evening of Saturday Feb. 22, 1986, people were gathering to block the stretch of highway between Camp Aguinaldo and Camp Crame.

What few knew is that EDSA could have been stopped right away had the orders of dictator Marcos been obeyed. But these dictates were very nimbly sidestepped by his own soldiers and police who dodged the command to disperse the EDSA crowd. This queers the claim that Ferdinand Marcos never issued such orders.

Edo Lim knows the untold story of the inside job since he was there and could have changed the course of history during the first two fateful days of the EDSA Revolution.

“I was in my office at headquarters, Camp Sikatuna, that Saturday afternoon, watching the unfolding event on television when General Olivas, Metrocom commander, rang me up and asked if I knew what was going on. I said yes and he told me to mobilize all my officers and men of the Northern Police District and wait for further orders. So I bade my chiefs and men of Quezon City, Malabon, Navotas, Valenzuela and San Juan, to assemble all their available units at Sikatuna headquarters. About 800 came.”

Obviously their mission would be to sweep away the demos on EDSA, restore the highway to traffic , and thus open up the two army camps there where the rebels had holed up. But General Lim managed to while away the night without moving on EDSA. For one thing, the leader of the rebels –Minister Juan Ponce Enrile of Defense and General Fidel Ramos of the PC/INP – were Lim’s immediate bosses. And there was Cardinal Sin on Radio Veritas appealing to the people to help Enrile and Ramos and their men. Lim decided to heed the call of his eminence.

Had his sympathies, being elsewhere, impelled to clear the highway that twilight, the EDSA revolution would have died a borning. But he took a stand that was a steal.

“We were monitoring developments at EDSA and had learned that at about 10 p.m. Butch Aquino and his ATOM boys had marched from Cubao to join the EDSA crowds. Then, at daybreak of Sunday, the Butch Aquino group retired after an all-night vigil on EDSA. The crowd left on the highway was less than a thousand by then.”

Lim then sent at about 8 a.m. Sunday the Quezon City police chief, Colonel Dawis, to contact Butch Aquino on EDSA, where, of course Butch Aquino no longer was. But Malacañang would think that Lim was on the job.

“I had stressed to General Dawis that there was to be no police dispersal action in EDSA unless I gave the order.”

Alas, that Sunday morning, Feb. 23, Lim received specific orders on EDSA, relayed from the army commander himself, General Josephus Ramas, through Colonel Javier. And the specific orders were: clear EDSA at once!

Since Edo Lim was of two minds about these orders, he had to play possum all Sunday morning, to escape obeying orders that were undoubtedly right from Malacañang.

“There were frequent calls to my office from the office of General Ver, asking about my whereabouts, but I had instructed my staff not to tell where I was and to say only that I was on patrol. Actually, I was at the necrological services for Major Luna, one of my officers, who had died of a heart attack. But the calls from General Ver through his officers became so persistent – they were all searching for me! – that finally, towards noon or about eleven o’clock, I went to EDSA.”

Lim made his appearance at the P. Tuason corner of the highway.

“I met with Colonel Dawis and he told me that General Ramos had sent CDC troops (the army’s crowd-control unit) under the command of Colonel Javier. I went to see Colonel Javier and he told me his orders were to contact me and await instructions from me. I said to him: ‘Okey, just stay put.’ There were about 250 of them, equipped with batons and shields. They bivouacked at the EDSA Tuason corner. Three doors away was the Laguna Antique Shop, where I set up my command post.”

By Sunday noon the EDSA crowd had increased to 5,000, a still manageable mass. Lim could have cleared the highway without sweat, blood or tears. But he ordered neither his men nor the CDC troops to start sweeping. Then, after Cardinal Sin had gone on the air, the highway really filled up. From a distance, Lim saw people hurrying in like ants.

“The Cardinal’s appeal to the people to rush to EDSA and defend Ramos and Enrile was replayed several times over the radio and the people really came rushing! I again urged Colonel Dawis to contact Butch Aquino but Butch Aquino could not be located.”

At 2:45 p.m. Lim was notified by Quezon City mobile police that he was urgently being ordered to call the Study Room in Malacañang. Lim rang up the Study Room, which is the President’s office, and was presently listening to the vexed voice of Ferdinand Marcos, the President, the commander-in-chief.

“General Lim, what’s happening out there?”

“Mr. President, there are many people converging on EDSA, between Crame and Aquinaldo.”

“Then you tell them to go home because we are going to shell Crame. Tell them to disperse so they won’t get hurt. We are sending in tanks, mortars, and artillery. So be sure to disperse them at all cost!”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

But what Lim did was to ring up the office of General Olivas, his superior. The one who answered was Colonel Mitch Templo, who said that Olivas was sleeping.

“Well, wake him up!” yelled Lim. “This is urgent. I have orders from President Marcos to disperse the crowds on EDSA and I want to refer the matter to General Olivas.”

Colonel Mitch Templo said he would call back. But when Templo called back, it was to say that General Olivas had been sedated, and could not be disturbed on doctor’s orders. The implication was that Olivas was ill; might have suffered a slight heart attack.

Nevertheless, Lim felt himself in a quandary. What would he do next? Then the phone rang again. “This time it was Colonel Alex Aquirre, a classmate of mine at the National Defense College, and he said he was in Camp Crame with General Ramos, and to hold my line because Ramos wanted to talk to me. While I was waiting, into the Lagman Antique Shop strode Butch Aquino. He said: ‘General, in other days you were chasing us. Today we are protecting the soldiers at Crame.’ I said to him: ‘Good, but wait!’ So Butch stayed at the doorway while I talked with General Ramos.”

This talk on the telephone was one of the most crucial moments at EDSA – because Edo Lim already knew positively what he wanted to do. And this came about through coolness and tact displayed by Fidel Ramos.

The conversation went like this:

“Fred, what are your orders?”

“My orders, sir, are to disperse the crowds at EDSA at all cost.”

“Fred, if there’s a dispersal, we will be wiped out here. I have with me Minister Enrile, Former Chiefs of Staff Espino and Vargas, Assemblyman Cayetano, among many others. Our only weapons are M-16s and M-14s which are ineffective against artillery, tanks and mortars. I hear there is an army CDC group there and they are armed with heavy weapons.”

“No sir, I talked with Colonel Javier and he told me that their only equipment are riot batons and shields.”

“You check. Their weapons are hidden in their six-by-six trucks. Anyway, Fred, bahala ka na.”

That was what won Edo Lim. Ramos did not simply order: “Do not disperse!” He was tactful enough to leave the deciding to the police superintendent. Bahala ka na. And Lim at that moment knew where he stood.

Still he felt his head expanding.

“I felt I was sitting on a volcano.” And then there came Butch Aquino asking: “Are you going to disperse us?”

“No,” replied Lim, “but you, Cardinal Sin and the rebels should talk to President Marcos and see if this matter can be settled peacefully. I promise.”

“Gentleman’s agreement?” pressed Butch Aquino.

“Usapang lalaki,” agreed Lim, rising to shake hands with Butch Aquino, who hurried out to inform his waiting companions: “No dispersal, I ready talked to General Lim.” With relief, everybody applauded.

At five p.m. Lim was notified that Malacañang was looking for him. He rang up the Study Room – and here again was the Marcos voice, rather furious.

“General, you failed me!” And the strongman demanded to know why there was no dispersal action as of the moment.

“Mr. President, it is physically impossible to conduct dispersal operations.”

“Why? Why?” Mr. Marcos demanded.

“Because there are 35,000 to 40,000 people on EDSA and I have only 126 men with me.”

(These 126 men under Colonel Dawis were the only ones that Lim had ordered to be with him. The rest of his police officers and men – the majority – he had deliberately left behind in Camp Sikatuna.)

“All right, listen,” said Mr. Marcos, “I will send you additional reinforcement: two more army battalions – but be sure to disperse at all costs! Tell the crowd to go home – that Crame is going to be shelled.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” But to himself was exclaiming: Patay na!

He could only pray to be delivered from this dilemma, from this highway called EDSA. And like an answer came a call from his compadre, General Victor Natividad, who had just been appointed PC Chief, in lieu of Fidel Ramos. (General Olivas, the first choice, could not be located and was still said to be ill or something.) General Natividad had rung up Lim to join him at the Meralco compound in Ortigas, and bring along the army CDC group.

“Yes, sir!” cried Lim in rapture. No more need to worry about what to do on EDSA!

“I ordered Colonel Javier to pack up and join us in Meralco. So we went to the Meralco compound in Ortigas and there we waited for General Natividad. And before us passed these tanks from the EDSA-Ortigas crossing and going towards Pasig. We didn’t know these were the tanks stopped by nuns and other brave spirits and had been forced to detour away from EDSA. This was toward six p.m.”

Shortly after, his compadre General Natividad arrived. Lim presented himself, his police group, and the army CDC contingent. “Here we are General, reporting as ordered.”

“Yes, but where are tanks?”

“What tanks? Oh, we saw them passing just a while ago, on their way to Pasig.”

“Going to Pasig?” General Natividad looked horrified. “But why to Pasig?”

(These tanks were supposed to have thundered their way down EDSA to Crame and to have blasted their way into that rebel camp.)

The phone rang: it was First Lady Madame Imelda Marcos. She wanted to speak to the New PC chief. When General Natividad returned from the telephone conversation, Edo Him seized that opportunity to get his men out this scene. It was eight p.m. He and his men had been duty since morning, had had no lunch, had had no rest. Couldn’t they be allowed to return to Camp Sikatuna for supper, a bath, and bit of rest, and Edo Lim returned to headquarters with his men.

That was Sunday night; to get back to Sikatuna they had to detour through Libis; EDSA had become impassable, barricaded by over 100,000 human blocks.

General Lim had done what he had to do: keep EDSA from being stopped; keep EDSA going.



MANILA, Philippines - By Monday and Tuesday, EDSA had become a veritable human rampart – the Great Wall of Pinoy resistance: People Power!

But what was not known then is that it could have been aborted on the first two days of uprising. And what the other side didn’t know was that the foiled aborting was an “inside job” accomplished by its own G-men, headed by the police superintendent in charge of the EDSA area.

The inside job is the untold story of EDSA.

Edo Lim had to play such a sly game at EDSA (seeming ready to obey the orders to disperse the crowds there while making no move to do so) because he saw that EDSA could be saved only if he remained in command there.

“Had I betrayed myself to be on the side of the rebels, I would have been pulled out of EDSA and replaced with somebody really intent on clearing the highway. So I had to feign compliance when actually not complying at all. I had felt up and not down when President Marcos said on the phone that I failed him. But my cover was blown that Sunday night when General Ramos told the media on which side I stood. ‘General Lim has joined us,’ said Ramos told the newsmen, ‘he is supporting this revolt.’ The announcement appeared in Tempo on Monday morning.”

He had barely rested in his quarters at Sikatuna when he was ordered to meet with Gen. Victor Natividad at the corner of Boni Serrano and Katipunan Avenue at about six a.m. Monday, Feb. 24. The tanks that he and his men saw had been stopped by nuns praying the rosary and other brave souls. Now Lim learned they were to disperse the crowd. He went instead to the Quirino Labor Hospital. Then there was a series of gunfire, and the crowds were rushing towards the hospital where Lim was. He learned the teargas was thrown at the crowd to disperse them at Boni Serrano and Katipunan. He took his men to the place where he was met by Southern Police District commander General Escarcha.

Lim was told by Gen. Escarcha that they had been waiting for him at 6 in the morning, and because he was not around, he, Escarcha, was forced to disperse the crowd on orders of Gen. Natividad, who then arrived and asked Lim why he was not there that morning. Lim said he was at the Quirino Labor Hospital. He stayed at the commandpost at Logcom from 7 to 8 in the morning.

“I saw Col. Balbas, commander of the marine tanks, and Col. Barangan, Gen. Ver’s PSC deputy, who ordered Balbas to pre-position his tanks to blast at Crame. Balbas was giving orders and the tanks moved back and forth, moved right and left, like they were also dragging their chains, appearing to obey commands.

“Gen. Barangan called us to the Logcom building where he had his command post. Gen. Natividad was also ordered to be there. Gen. Barangan told us to proceed to Channel 4 because the security force there was being harassed by demonstrators and the trucks could not get out.

“I brought my 37 officers and men to Channel 4. Col. Dawis reported to me at the Country Chef restaurant that former LTO chief Col. Santiago Mariano was going to take Channel 4. Then Fr. Efren Datu of Veritas met me. He was with Col. Subia who saluted me and confirmed that Gen. Ramos had ordered them under Col. Mariano to take Channel 4.”

Lim and Col. Dawis agreed that since there was already an order from Gen. Ramos, they might as well return to Quezon City Police headquarters.

“Before noon of Monday, I was informed that Gen. Olivas had himself admitted at the Philippine Heart Center. I rushed to see him. He told me his blood pressure had shot up and he felt faint. I reported that I was ordered to disperse the crowd at Channel 4 but since there was already an order to Col. Mariano and his men to take Channel 4, we left them. Gen. Olivas seemed more concerned with his blood pressure.”

Then Lim got a radio message from Gen. Natividad ordering him to meet with him at his new command post, the Country Chef restaurant near Channel 4 where he was met by Gen. Escarcha, who said they have been looking for him all morning because he was to disperse the crowd at Channel 4. Escarcha had even caught a rebel with a carbine. Lim explained that he reported to Gen. Olivas at the Heart Center, that he could not possible disperse that large crowd.

Gen. Natividad arrived with Col. Ely Yorro, a godson and one of the military aides of the President. It was he, so Lim had learned, who had been trying to reach him and had even gone to Sikatuna with 12 soldiers in full battle gear. Now at the Country Chef he was not talking to Lim but kept looking at him. Lim thought: because I did not disperse the crowd when ordered.

Gen. Natividad now ordered that they retake Channel 4. He agreed to Lim’s suggestion that they first get the Channel 4 building plans in Quezon City. He sent one of his men to get the plans. Lim knew that the City Hall was closed, it would take a long time before the plans could be located and taken out, if ever.

While they were waiting, a Caloocan policemen whom Lim knew approached, saluted, told him that they already had taken Channel 4, adding that he was ordered by Col. Subia to report to him. Lim told the policeman to return to Channel 4 and they will talk later. The others, particularly Col. Yorro, could not have missed seeing that the policeman wore his Philippine flag patch upside down.

Gen. Natividad then was called to the phone. Lim suspected it was his brother, the late Assemblyman Teodulo Natividad, giving the General some advice.

The police officer sent to City Hall came back without the plans. It was late in the afternoon. Lim asked Gen. Natividad if he could go back to Sikatuna. Metrocom reinforcement from Bobby Ortega was coming from Bicutan, Gen. Natividad said. Lim’s suggestion that in the meantime they place a traffic officer was accepted. IfOrtega came maybe they should send him back to Bicutan. They all left the place.

Back at his Sikatuna office, Lim got a call from Mitch Templo, telling him “Gen. Ramos said to tell you, Sir, that a reinforcement from Lipa Air Base was coming. Gen. Ramos requests that you allow them to bivouac at Sikatuna.”

Lim readily consented. It was already published in Tempo that Lim had joined the rebel forces. Lim took a nap. He was waiting for the Lipa Air Base rebels. But they did not come.

His sympathies already unmasked, he decided to strip to the altogether the following morning.

“On Tuesday, I assembled my officers and the police chiefs of the four towns and two cities under my command. ‘This is the hour of truth,’ I said to them, ‘and I want your honest opinion on my stand.’ Some voices yelled: ‘If it’s your stand, we support you.’ I bade them remember that they were involving not only themselves but also their families, since this was the nation’s total rebellion. And they chorused: ‘We and our families go, General, where you go!’ I thanked them for their trust in me. ‘And now,’ I continued, ‘here is my decision: to go to Camp Crame and present myself to Gen. Ramos. Those of you who are willing, follow me. Those who don’t want to are free to go where they please – and no hurt feelings.’ This was about 2 p.m. of Tuesday, Feb. 25, 1986, and of the over 40 officers present only two voices were raised in opposition.”

Then he called Gen. Cabrera and Yson informing them he was already taking his men inside Camp Crame at six o’clock.

When General Alfredo Lim entered Camp Crame at six o’clock that evening he was accompanied by all his men, including the two lone oppositors. Also joining the grand entrance (Lim had asked that the Metrocom gate on Boni Serrano be opened to admit them) were commander Cabrera of the Western Police District, and Commander Yson of the Eastern Police District, with their respective aides.

The police assemblage proceeded to headquarters, where Lim was amused, but not surprised, to find his boss, Gen. Olivas (with nary a sign of illness), and his aide Mitch Templo. Those two had been playing possum through the weekend, to escape being ordered to attack Camp Crame.

Presently, Gen. Fidel Ramos came down to welcome his police allies. Said he to them: “Gentlemen, thank you for coming here and supporting us. But during one of the crisis moments last Sunday, when the order to disperse was given, I contacted Fred Lim. And without much ado, he evaded that dispersal order. Fred, thank you very much. And thanks again to all of you, gentlemen.”

Lim felt all eyes turned towards him: he had told no one of that telephone talk with Ramos.

“And I never told Ramos that, when he called, I was still wondering who was kalaban and who was kakampi.

“That assembly at Crame was about six o’clock of Tuesday night, Feb. 25, 1986. I was still in Crame three hours later when the news came that Ferdinand Marcos had been helicoptered out of Malacañang, on his way to exile. The rebellion was victorious! Cory Aquino was President! The next day, we police commanders were asked to submit reports on our actuations during EDSA. Afterwards it was announced that being retained at their posts were: General Cabrera as commander of Western Police District; General Yson as commander of the Eastern Police District; and myself as commander of the Northern Police District. When all those EDSA heroes started cropping out, I just kept quiet, but I couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if I had swept EDSA clean that Sunday as ordered.”

‘We vied for honor to lead attack on Palace’

By Jose T. Almonte
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: February 26, 2011 

(The author is a retired general and one of the lead theoreticians of the Reform the Armed Forces Movement [RAM].)

MANILA, Philippines—To kill the snake, you must aim for its head.’

Of the three senior leaders of the RAM, Lieutenant Colonel Victor Batac, who was then chief of the Research and Analysis Office of the intelligence division of the Philippine Constabulary/Integrated National Police, was the strategist, the planner-intellectual.

Lieutenant Colonel Eduardo “Red” Kapunan was the organization man, with wide-ranging contacts among the field commands. Lieutenant Colonel Gregorio “Gringo” Honasan, baron of his class, the charismatic fighting man, was the movement’s leader.

Eventually, the three told me what they planned. They would ambush General Roland Pattugalan, commander of the Presidential Guards, whom the dictator Ferdinand Marcos was touting as his next Chief of Staff. Since General Josephus Ramas, the Army commander, also coveted the post (which was then being held by Marcos henchman, General Fabian Ver), Ramas could easily bear the blame for Pattugalan’s death. Marcos’ generals would begin quarreling among themselves—and RAM could then take advantage of the confusion in the Marcos camp.

I suggested that revolutionary politics did not work that way. Dealing with an authoritarian ruler was like trying to kill a cobra. Would-be regicides like us should aim for its head. We shouldn’t bother with the cobra’s tail or even its body. We did not have the luxury of a second strike.

The plan altered

After some debate, RAM decided to alter the plan: we agreed we would attack Malacañang Palace itself. In the process, it was likely the whole of the Marcos family would be killed. I insisted the Marcoses should be taken alive, so that they could face a people’s court.

Honasan pointed out, correctly, that capturing the Marcoses alive would require a larger attack force than the group we already had. (When the showdown came, we had a total of 770 men holed up at Camp Crame.) We would need to recruit more fighters. Not only would that risk the discovery of our plot: it would also raise the volume of casualties on both sides.

But I feared the fickle nature of history whose judgment of historical figures is never final.

In the end, we decided to build up a larger force. Meanwhile, we also made up a list of the personages who would compose our transition government.

The seven-person junta—called the Movement for National Unity (MNU)—was to be made up of Cory Aquino, Manila Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin, Jimmy Ongpin, Rafael Salas, Alejandro Melchor, Juan Ponce Enrile and Lt. Gen. Fidel V. Ramos.

Planning Palace assault

We vied for the honor of leading the attack on the Palace and on its Presidential Guards. At last, it was decided that the task would go to Honasan. On that occasion, I gave him as a keepsake a Russian AK-47 assault rifle I had used during my sojourn among the Vietcong, and which, in happier times, I had intended to present to Marcos.

Kapunan would lead the attack on the Presidential Guards on the south bank of Pasig. Batac and I would man the RAM command post at Nichols Field, where a battalion from Trece Martires, Cavite, would join us.

Maj. Avelino Razon, General Ramos’ aide, was with us. As soon as the action began, he would pick up General Ramos and escort him to Nichols, where Ramos would take over overall command of the rebel forces.

Civilian opposition links

While the young leaders of RAM completed the deadly business of organizing a coup, we all read up on Edward Luttwak (“Coup d’etat, A Practical Handbook,” London: 1968) and I passed around a copy of Anwar el-Sadat’s account of how the young Egyptian officers overthrew the dissolute King Farouk in 1952. I volunteered to get in touch with the civilian opposition.

All of us realized how the military’s collaboration with the regime had alienated it from the people. Yet we also knew that if our effort was to succeed, we would need the wholehearted support of ordinary Filipinos.

Early on, we had agreed that if we could get people out on the streets, we could deter the movement of the loyalist forces. In the early 1980s, we got in touch with Jose “Peping” Cojuangco and his wife, Tingting. When the action finally took place in February 1986, they blocked the roads from Tarlac to Manila, to stop loyalist troops from Marcos’ “Solid North” from reinforcing him. Tingting began organizing “flower brigades” similar to those the American youth movement of 1968 had used to disarm troops breaking up their demonstrations against the Vietnam War.

Plotting in Cory’s kitchen

In early February 1986, Peping set up an appointment for us with the opposition’s moral leader, Cory Aquino. She received Batac, Kapunan, Boy Turingan and myself, together with her brother Peping, in the kitchen of her house on Times Street, Quezon City. We told her we were going to bring down Marcos by force—and that we looked to her as our leader. We could not tell her the day and the time, but it was going to be very soon. And we needed her because, once the action began, she alone could rally the people to come down on our side.

Even at that late date, Mrs. Aquino was reluctant to take on the burden of the presidency. She did not think that the ruling generals—who all owed personal loyalty to Marcos—would obey her commands. Almost the first words she uttered were: “I do not want to be President because I am not capable of being President.”

As RAM’s spokesperson for that occasion, I pointed out that, in the life of a people, every historical period requires leadership of a certain character. And, at that period in our nation’s life—in the wake of the moral excesses of the Marcoses and their cronies—we needed more leadership of the kind she possessed.

‘My first general’

I told her that I had stood on the overpass connecting Nichols and Fort Bonifacio to see Ninoy Aquino’s funeral cortege pass underneath, and had heard her being interviewed on radio. Asked what she would do to seek justice for her murdered husband, the grieving widow had called not for revenge, not for revolution. She had not called on the millions of Filipinos accompanying Ninoy to his grave to storm Malacañang. Yet all she needed to do then was to give the word—and surely a sufficient number of those who were grieving for Ninoy would have done so. Instead she had quietly answered: “I will leave it to the authorities to give justice to my husband.”

I told her that I thought a person who could have that kind of faith in people—even in officials of a government that might have killed her husband—must have a high moral character. I added that the military would respect someone with moral character; and, of course, as President, she would command the Armed Forces on behalf of all the people. She answered, “Colonel, I never thought of it that way.”

In her delight at having her misgivings and anxieties relieved, she burst out: “Colonel, if what you are telling me happens, you will be my first general!”

Embarrassed by her effusion, I replied that we had pledged neither to seek—nor to accept—any rewards, promotions or positions of power. All we hoped for was that the new government we would help install would seek to actualize the yearnings of our people.

In the archbishop’s garden

Jaime Cardinal Sin was the second personage whose blessings we sought. Coming alone—our appointment set up by Charito Melchor—to the Archbishop’s Palace in Mandaluyong, I was met at the door by a young priest, who did not ask me in. The cardinal himself came out the door alone. He invited me to walk in the garden with him—a precaution against eavesdroppers that I appreciated. I told him we were ready to bring down Marcos and asked for his support and his prayers.

Saying our goodbyes, we both felt the emotion of the moment. He embraced me tightly as I took my leave: “Colonel, you do your duty, and I’ll do mine,” he said.

If we needed Cory Aquino and Cardinal Sin to mobilize the people, we needed Lt. Gen. Fidel V. Ramos, vice chief of staff and director general of the PC/INP, to help mobilize the Armed Forces and the national police.

I had known Ramos for a quarter-century. We had both been assigned to the Laguna-Quezon border during the dying years of the Huk rebellion. At the time, he led a company of infantry. I remember that, in our occasional conversations, we had both wondered why we were hunting down fellow Filipinos. I called on him at his headquarters at Camp Crame a few days before our planned action.

One last cigar with Ramos

Cool, discreet, deliberate, Ramos was the thinking soldier’s soldier. After finishing at West Point in 1950, he had fought at the 38th Parallel in Korea, served in the Huk campaign, and then in Vietnam. Throughout the years of martial law, he had stood for professionalism and dedication to duty. No desk-bound commander, he was often in the field, living with the soldiers where they were. He knew all the field commanders intimately. Only he could call them down on our side.

We talked for several hours. I tried to sketch for him the crisis the nation was in, and what we had decided we must do, even at the cost of our lives. At first he didn’t say much, though I felt he himself had gone through the same examination of conscience. I didn’t need to tell him the tactical details. How we were to act—where we were to strike—were clear to him. I told him we were counting on him to lead us. As soon as the action began, Razon would come for him.

When it came time for him to reply, he first pointed out that Marcos was his blood relation. For Ilocanos, betrayal of a blood relation was the greatest transgression: if he were to take up arms against Marcos, how could he ever face his people again?

By nature a moderate, fearful of the anarchy a revolution might set off, Ramos was also keenly aware of the consequences that his decision could set off. All that those of us in RAM would lose were our lives. We were responsible for no one else but our own selves. But once Ramos committed himself against Marcos—and his long-standing rival, General Ver—he would have also decided for the 90,000 Constabulary men under his command, as well as for many others in the Armed Forces, whom he knew would loyally join him in whatever he decided to do. Hence I understood why he could not pledge his support for our cause as blithely as we ourselves had done.

For the moment, we left it at that. But I was sure that, when the time came, we could count on him.

As I stood up to go, he grabbed a handful of his favorite cigars from his desk drawer. He lit one for himself, and gave the rest to me.

“Joe,” he said, as he let me out the door. “Whatever you’re planning, just don’t make it too bloody.”

(This article is excerpted from the author’s book, “My Part in the 1986 People Power Revoluton.”)

Source: http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/nation/view/20110226-322276/We-vied-for-honor-to-lead-attack-on-Palace

Cardinal Sin packed ’em at EDSA but Butz sounded the call first

By Butz Aquino Philippine Daily InquirerFirst Posted 03:13:00 02/22/2011

After the assassination of Ninoy Aquino on Aug. 21, 1983, former classmates, business associates and friends formed Atom (August Twenty-One Movement).

(Editor’s Note: The Inquirer invited Agapito “Butz” Aquino to write an account of his call to the people on Feb. 22, 1986, to support the breakaway of then Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile and Lt. Gen. Fidel Ramos. With all due respect to the eminent memory of Jaime Cardinal Sin, for the record, Butz made the call first for people power.

A former senator, the 71-year-old Butz is the younger brother of the martyr Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. He was a key player in the stunning events that played out for four days 25 years ago on EDSA which the world has come to hail and emulate as People Power.)

MANILA, Philippines—After the assassination of Ninoy Aquino on Aug. 21, 1983, former classmates, business associates and friends formed Atom (August Twenty-One Movement).

We had to learn to organize marches and demonstrations until it became a regular weekly activity. We could mobilize hundreds in a few hours, or thousands in one day’s notice.

We jogged regularly from Luneta to Baclaran on Sundays to build stamina and spirituality until we were able to launch a march from Tarlac to the Manila airport tarmac, 140 kilometers away. We started with 300 marchers.

The military blocked us in Valenzuela, but after a three-day stand-off in Meycauyan, Bulacan, we proceeded to Manila. The event hit national and international media and established Atom as one of the major groups in the protest movement against the Ferdinand Marcos dictatorship.

On Saturday, Feb. 22, 1986, at around 8 p.m. we heard over the radio that Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile and Armed Forces Vice Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Fidel V. Ramos had broken away from Marcos.

We were at a dinner party when we were told that there would be a replay of the breakaway statement of Enrile and Ramos on radio and that they were holding out at Camp Aguinaldo.

To support or not

We debated whether to support this breakaway group.

I said this was serious. This was not a zarzuela because the painful words used by Enrile and Ramos were very damaging to Marcos. I remember Enrile saying Marcos cheated with more than 300,000 votes in Enrile’s province in the Feb. 7 snap presidential election. We concluded that it was time to support this breakaway group in order to divide the military. We had learned in our studies on active nonviolence that we needed to break the pillars that support the dictatorship. Obviously, the military component was the strongest pillar supporting the Marcos dictatorship. So if we succeeded in splitting the military, the dictatorship could very well collapse.

We checked with the other opposition leaders. Cory Aquino was in Cebu pushing a campaign of civil disobedience and could not be contacted. Sen. Pepe Diokno said, “Bayaan mo nang magpatayan sila (Let them kill each other),” Justice Cecilia Munoz-Palma asked: “What are your plans?” I said we will support Enrile and Ramos. The enemy of our enemy is our tactical ally. She said “God be with you.”

As Atom debated, I went to Camp Aguinaldo with only my driver to gather more information and, possibly, to talk to Enrile or Ramos to assess the situation.

The call

Upon reaching the camp, I noticed that there were very few military men guarding the gates. I asked one if I could see Enrile. After the guard made a phone call, I was led to the second floor where I was met by Enrile. He appeared nervous and was perspiring. I realized that he was wearing a bulletproof vest. I said, “Minister, we are here to help you.” I said we have some food and medicine and a lot of people but we did not have any arms. He replied, “We need all the help we can get.”

Everything that happened after that meeting was spontaneous.

In the same room, I saw Jun Tanya, a reporter of Radio Veritas speaking on the phone. I asked if he was patched on to Radio Veritas, and he said “Yes.” I decided to make my call.

I remember saying over the radio: “Ako’y nananawagan sa Atom at sa lahat ng matatapang na Pilipino, magpunta sa Isetann Cubao ngayon para suportahan natin si Minister Enrile at General Ramos.” (I am calling all Atom members and all brave Filipinos to assemble in Isetan Cubao to support the breakaway group of Minister Enrile and General Ramos.)

Why Isetann? Because that was the assembly for Atom mass actions in Cubao.

I proceeded there at around 10:30 p.m. and saw six people I did not even know. We eyed each other suspiciously.

10,000 come marching

At 11 p.m. dozens of Atom members and supporters started arriving, saying “Hindi ka namin pababayaan (We won’t let you down).” But others said, “Ipapahamak na naman tayo ni Butz (Butz is going to get us to harm’s way).” By 11:15 p.m. hundreds came and at around 11:30 p.m. thousands arrived—mostly Atom members, supporters and just plain “usis” (usiseros, or kibitzers).

By midnight, at least 10,000 had gathered in the area and so we started marching on EDSA toward Camp Crame. There, I asked to see Ramos and I was ushered to his office on the second floor, leaving the others outside the gate.


Ramos appeared cool and confident. Following a briefing, we were asked to man all six gates in the camp, to serve as an early warning system. I later realized that we would be their shield in case of an attack by the Marcos forces.

I remember asking him, “How many do we have in Camp Crame?” He said 3,000. I assumed 3,000 soldiers and combatants. This gave us a little confidence. I found out later that the 3,000 included noncombat personnel, including drivers, houseboys and “kasambahay.” The more accurate figure was about 300 soldiers only.

Manning the gates

We left Ramos and divided the different groups that marched with us. The Ateneans were given one gate, the SocDems another, and UP, UST and La Sallites were also assigned to different gates. To my surprise, everybody just followed our orders. Nobody questioned our leadership. It seemed nobody wanted to be a leader at that time.

At 4 a.m., Sunday, Feb. 23, we saw Ramos jogging along EDSA, giving us the impression that everything was under control.

At 5 a.m., the spontaneous “demonstrators” went home. They promised to come back at 8 a.m. We were down to probably 2,000. As usual for Filipinos, they came late, trickling in at 9 a.m.

Credit to Cardinal Sin

At 10 a.m. we were back in the thousands. I attributed this to the call of Jaime Cardinal Sin who sometime at midnight made a broadcast and exhorted the people to support Enrile and Ramos.

By 11 a.m., we were at least 100,000. I was told that Gen. Alfredo Lim was looking for me. So I had a meeting with him in some antique store. He told me that he had orders to disperse us.

I said if Gen. Fabian Ver, Marcos’ Armed Forces chief of staff, gave him that order, we would not follow it. If Ramos told us to disperse then we would disperse. I even said “Hindi ba boss mo si General Ramos sa PC-INP (Isn’t General Ramos your boss)?” So Lim called Ramos and, of course, I could only hear several “Yes, sirs.” And when I asked what Ramos told him, he said Ramos just said “Bahala ka na, Fred (It’s up to you).”

After a few minutes, Lim offered me siopao (steamed bun). I even criticized him saying “after guarding your boss all night, all you will feed me is one siopao?” He didn’t appreciate my joke.

Going to war festive

The mood was festive, rather than like we were going to war. People just came bringing with them water, juice, sandwiches, anything and everything that they could share with other people. People came because they wanted to be counted among those protesting against Marcos.

At about 1 p.m. tanks started rolling in from Ortigas Avenue. We proceeded to the area, but how to stop the tanks? We did not know just yet. However, when we got there, they pushed me on top of the lead tank to address the crowd.

Using a bullhorn, I remember telling Brig. Gen. Artemio Tadiar: “This is what we have been fighting for. We are fighting for our freedom. And if we have to sacrifice our lives, we are prepared to do so.”

Tadiar ordered me to get down from the tank and my pants was ripped while getting off, showing my behind.

2 nuns

We sat in front of the lead tank. Two nuns appeared and knelt in front of us. Then the tanks started rolling toward us.

I wanted to run but could not because the two nuns did not budge. I would rather lose my life than lose face. I could not imagine myself running ahead of the nuns. There was also a pretty lady beside me. I said that if the tanks would really run over us, I would have to protect her by throwing my body on top of her so we would get quashed together. Bahala na! (So be it!) I was very nervous.

The tanks stopped about three meters in front of us. There was a collective sigh of relief. There was wild jubilation. We were grateful that the tanks spared us.

We marched back to EDSA. We were stationed in front of Camp Crame for the rest of the afternoon and evening waiting for news and other developments.

‘This is it’

Monday morning, Feb. 24. Helicopters flew overhead. I said, “Oh boy, this is it!” I was thinking we might be bombed or strafed.

But looking up and following the flight path of the choppers, we saw that a soldier aboard one of the helicopters flashed to the crowd below the Laban (fight) sign—the thumb and forefinger—of opposition to the Marcos regime. We all sighed in relief and gratitude.

There was loud cheering from the people outside the gates of Camp Crame.

Rumors were rife that Marcos had fled the country. There was an uncertain joy because we were not sure if the rumors were true.

Later, we found out that Marcos was still around. So people who left EDSA returned. The Atom members met to discuss the next move. We were now preparing for a longer stay as we did in Meycauyan.

It happened so fast

We were later informed that Cory would be sworn into office. On Tuesday morning, Feb. 25, I went to Club Filipino to witness Cory being sworn into office by Chief Justice Claudio Teehankee. I went back to EDSA after the ceremony and informed the Atom members what had transpired.

Since we didn’t plan the “EDSA Revolution” we were surprised that it ended abruptly. While we hoped for the expulsion of Marcos, we did not anticipate that it would happen that fast.

Next time, we should plan the results of our activities beyond our sudden victories.

No EDSA I if Marcos conducted genuine, credible snap election

By Sen. Gregorio Honasan
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 03:25:00 02/23/2011

Filed Under: Edsa 1, People power, Politics, Dictatorship,history

(Editor’s Note: The following is an account given to Inquirer reporter TJ Burgonio by Sen. Gregorio Honasan of the events that led to the EDSA People Power Revolution on Feb. 22-25, 1986. Honasan was then an Army colonel and one of the leaders of the Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM) whose aborted coup attempt on Feb. 22 sparked the massing of millions of Filipinos summoned by Jaime Cardinal Sin and Butz Aquino to EDSA to protect the breakaway group led by then Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile and then Lt. Gen. Fidel V. Ramos at Camp Aguinaldo and Camp Crame.)

MANILA, Philippines—The EDSA People Power Revolution might not have happened had the Ferdinand Marcos administration conducted genuine elections 25 years ago.

We were supposed to mount our operation in December 1985, but when Marcos announced a snap presidential election on Feb. 7, he offered what we thought was a release valve. It was an opportunity for the government to hold clean, credible and honest elections.

We thought there was hope. But when they started tampering with the election returns and the computer people walked out, led by then Col. Eduardo “Red” Kapunan’s wife Linda, whom we had to secure. That event became the tipping point.

Looking back, had EDSA I not taken place, we could have failed to moderate a lot of the institutional damage. At that time, the perception was that the damage was so severe. The Commission on Elections and the Batasan Pambansa were just rubber stamps.

These were perceptions that were beginning to be given life in the light of what was happening. In the countryside, we had an insurgency problem that was festering, and within the Armed Forces of the Philippines, there were abuses of discretion, abuse of authority, and to some degree, corruption, although not in the same light as this “pabaon”—send-off money for retiring AFP chiefs of staff revealed in recent congressional investigations.

Inevitable

People power was bound to happen sooner or later.

We collectively, including Marcos, would have reached our threshold for staying in power despite the obvious absence of control. In the case of the people, considering perceptions that the government then was not enjoying full support and trust, they would have reached their threshold. The challenge then was to allow these thresholds to converge at the same time.

You’re talking here of thresholds. If you’re alone and you’re few and you reach your threshold, of course you lose. You’re either killed, you’re incarcerated or you’re isolated from the very same society that you seek to reform. So the idea was to organize and communicateto the majority so that you could reach your thresholds together.

Had that process continued, it would have been only a matter of time before these thresholds were reached collectively by a majority of our people. It was bound to happen. It was inevitable. It’s history.

2 factors

One way or the other, Marcos would have been forced to leave or would have left voluntarily. Of course it meant more years, until we developed this threshold. So it was only a matter of time, I thought then.

Had Marcos stayed on, two things had to be factored in. First, the President was sick. I don’t know how Marcos, confronted with his own mortality, would have the capacity to institute fundamental reforms.

Second, the succession. Even then we were already talking about the tendencies toward forming a political dynasty in the highest level of power. Then First Lady Imelda Marcos was the governor of the Metropolitan Manila Authority. She was also the minister of human settlements. So, there were indications. Now, I don’t know how this would have impacted on the institutional damage. 


The essence of power is your ability to control the variables. Validate the information that’s coming your way as leader. When you lose that, then everything deteriorates. You relegate all those powers to a cordon sanitaire, the power cliques that develop around leaders, not only in our case but in the case of leaders worldwide.

EDSA lessons

EDSA I would have been unsuccessful without the military.

It has been proven time and again that you can have a political component in the streets or somewhere else, but unless you have a polarization of the situation, wherein you have a political component and a military component that would induce a balance of forces, political and military forces, then you have nothing. There is no decision; you will continue demonstrating in the streets, rallying, unless a military component surfaces.

And it has been proven in our history, twice, or three times because of the so-called “EDSA Tres” when the followers of then President Joseph Estrada took to the streets to protest his ouster in January 2001, now called EDSA II.

Did the reforms sought by RAM converge with the gains of EDSA I?

Right now, our miscalculation was in believing that these reforms could happen because of a single event. EDSA I was relatively bloodless, and compared to other revolutions in other countries, easy. Everyone thought it was a very clear opportunity for fundamental changes, and that it would happen soon. Now after one generation, it appears we have a long way to go.

Join in nation-building

At this point in my life, there is little room for regret. In fact, my preoccupation now is building for the nextgeneration, helping.

Nobody, including the assassinated father of President Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino III, ever said it was going to be easy. The late Sen. Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. said all leaders after President Marcos would have quite a formidable task.

We can’t give up. People power has to be manifested in some imaginative, innovative way. Not in the streets, but in the hearts and minds of our people.

We have to keep plodding on and working hard. We can’t relegate this to the task of one man, even a president. All of us, no exception, must go outside our comfort zones and participate in nation-building or rebuilding, recognizing that the minimum requirement is sacrifice. Unless we are prepared to do that we’ll keep on reminiscing what would have happened after EDSA 1986.

We can’t stop. We can’t say, “Forget the whole thing.” In my case, I was born here, I intend to die here. And if possible I will convince my children and grandchildren to stay here. This is such a beautiful country, with all its problems.

Feb 24, 2011

The Philippines Anatomy of a Revolution


TIME
Monday, Mar. 10, 1986

"Senator, what do you think? Should I step down?"

It was the second time that Paul Laxalt, the Nevada Republican and personal friend of Ronald Reagan's, had spoken that day with Ferdinand Marcos, the beleaguered President of the Philippines. At 2 o'clock (EST) last Monday afternoon, Marcos telephoned Laxalt, who had visited Manila in October as a special emissary, with an urgent question: Was it true, as U.S. Ambassador Stephen Bosworth had told him, that President Reagan was calling for a "peaceful transition to a new government" in the Philippines? While the two men talked, Laxalt said later, it became apparent that Marcos was "hanging on, looking for a life preserver. He was a desperate man clutching at straws." He asked whether the reference to a "peaceful transition" meant he should stay on until 1987, when his current term was originally supposed to end, and he wondered whether some sort of power-sharing arrangement with the Philippine opposition could be worked out.

Marcos spoke of his fear that his palace was about to be attacked, but seemed determined to stay on as President. At Marcos' request, Laxalt then went to the White House, where he discussed the conversation with Reagan and Secretary of State George Shultz. The President repeated his desire for a peaceful, negotiated settlement in the Philippines and said once more that Marcos would be welcome if he decided to seek sanctuary in the U.S. But Reagan said he thought the idea of power sharing was impractical and that it would be undignified for Marcos to stay on as a "consultant."

At 4:15 p.m. Laxalt called Marcos, who immediately asked whether Reagan wanted him to step down. Laxalt said the President was not in a position to make that kind of demand. Then Marcos put the question directly to Laxalt: What should he do? Replied the Senator: "Mr. President, I'm not bound by diplomatic restraint. I'm talking only for myself. I think you should cut and cut cleanly. The time has come." There was a long pause that to Laxalt seemed interminable. Finally he asked, "Mr. President, are you still there?" Marcos replied, in a subdued voice, "Yes, I'm still here. I am so very, very disappointed."

In Manila it was after 5 o'clock in the morning of the longest day of Ferdinand Marcos' life. Before it was over, he would attend his final inauguration ceremony, a foolish charade carried out in the sanctuary of his Malacanang Palace. That evening, a ruler no more, he would flee with his family and retainers aboard four American helicopters to Clark Air Base on the first leg of a flight that would take him to Guam, Hawaii and exile.

That same night, to mark the end of his increasingly authoritarian 20-year rule, millions of his countrymen would stage one of the biggest celebrations in the Philippines since its deliverance from the Japanese in 1945 and its independence from the U.S. in 1946. At the Malacanang Palace, giddy with excitement, hundreds of Filipinos would scale fences and storm their way through locked doors in order to glimpse--and in some cases to loot--the ornate Spanish-style palace that had served as Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos' seat of almost absolute power.

If there was something inexplicable about the mass phenomenon that rescued the island nation from a failing dictatorship, enabling thousands of unarmed civilians to protect one faction of the armed forces from the other, there was no doubt when the process began. It was Aug. 21, 1983, on the tarmac at Manila international airport. On that day, Opposition Politician Benigno ("Ninoy") Aquino Jr., 50, returning from three years of self-imposed exile in the U.S., was slain by a single bullet as he stepped off a jetliner into a crowd of soldiers and well-wishers. Though Marcos tried to put the blame on Communist agitators, one Filipino civilian and 25 members of the military, including General Fabian Ver, the armed forces Chief of Staff and Marcos stalwart, were indicted on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. The defendants were acquitted in December after a yearlong trial, but few Filipinos doubted their guilt.

The Aquino murder shocked and angered the country, sparking popular demonstrations and intensifying the disaffection with Marcos. It infuriated thousands of professional military men, who bitterly resented the politicization that the armed forces were undergoing and the hatred that this process was engendering. Of the assassination, Colonel Gregorio Honosan says today, "From a military viewpoint, it is technically impossible to get inside a cordon of 2,000 men, so this reinforced our belief that nobody in government could be safe."

The assassination produced a sharp increase in the size and intensity of Communist guerrilla activity by the military organization called the New People's Army. Though the insurgency is concentrated on Mindanao and some other southern islands, it spread after the Aquino assassination to 60 of the country's 74 provinces. In addition, the killing of Aquino created a nationwide crisis of confidence that caused the already stagnant economy to spiral downward, even as most other Southeast Asian nations were prospering. After the assassination, says an American official, "all these concerns took a quantum leap."

Two of the most important elements of Philippine society, the church and the military, began quickly turning against Marcos. The Archbishop of Manila, Jaime Cardinal Sin, is a powerful figure in a country nominally 85% Roman Catholic, and his opposition to Marcos was clear. He increasingly and openly encouraged opposition political figures.

The revolt in the armed forces began to take shape as long ago as 1977, when a power struggle within the Marcos government eroded the influence of the President's longtime political ally Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile. "It began as a self-defense action," recalls Navy Captain Rex Robles, a spokesman for the Reform the Armed Forces Movement, which Enrile now confirms he clandestinely helped establish. Realizing that he was being pushed aside in a power struggle with General Ver, Enrile, a Harvard-trained lawyer, began to work secretly to protect himself and lay the groundwork for the inevitable post-Marcos period.

Late last fall events began to move rapidly. In November, Marcos declared that he would hold a special presidential election to convince the Reagan Administration that he still enjoyed popular support. A month later, immediately following the acquittal of Ver, Corazon Aquino announced that she would challenge Marcos for the presidency. Cardinal Sin then helped persuade former Senator Salvador Laurel to join the Aquino ticket. In the meantime Enrile had been building his reform-movement, a highly visible band of about 100 well-trained soldiers whose aim was not to topple Marcos but to pressure him to reorganize the military. Throughout the election campaign, while Enrile publicly supported Marcos, his reformers conducted a crusade for honest voting that angered the President and the Ver faction in the military. The reformers in turn were enraged by the strong-arm methods used by the pro-Marcos forces in the vote counting, and even more by the assassination of Evelio Javier, a leading opposition figure. Nonetheless they remained inactive because they wanted to appear impartial. The military men had already established links with Corazon Aquino, and before the campaign had helped train her security detail.

Once the voting was over, the reformers prepared to take a more active part in the efforts to topple Marcos. By this time they had won the support of some of the Marcos family's closest security forces. Says one reformist: "I don't think the President thought that so many of his praetorian guards would turn against him. He thought money could buy loyalty. He underestimated the basic decency of Filipinos." The group tested palace security by smuggling cars filled with empty boxes into the palace grounds. Since nobody bothered to stop them, they realized they would be able to bring in explosives if they should choose to do so. Two weeks ago the reformers learned that they were in imminent danger. As the first step in a byzantine crackdown, Marcos arrested a group of soldiers. Though these troops were not members of the reform movement, the reformers theorized that the men would be used to incriminate them. The rebels suspected that the threatened crackdown was a maneuver by Ver and his supporters to reinforce their links with Marcos. At the same time, however, there were reports that some sort of coup might actually be in the making.

Immediately the reformers decided to accelerate their plans. They reached Enrile, who was sitting in the coffeehouse in the Atrium building in Makati, and informed him of what was happening. On Saturday, Feb. 22, Enrile resigned from the government and announced that he was joining the opposition forces. Some of Enrile's reformist colleagues tried to convince him that such a move would merely forewarn Marcos of the group's intentions, but he insisted, "I just cannot do this to the President otherwise."

The decision made, he sought Lieut. General Fidel Ramos' help. "I called Eddie. I had never discussed anything with him over the years, except in terms of the reform movement's general lack of aggressive intentions and its interest in institutional change. I told him, 'My boys are in this predicament, and I will have to be with them. I would like to find out whether you will join us or not.' General Ramos said, 'I am with you all the way.' "

At the moment of showdown, Cardinal Sin again played a crucial role. He publicly praised Enrile and Ramos, and called on the Philippine people to take to the streets in peaceful support of them. Radio Veritas, the Catholic station, became the unofficial broadcaster of the rebellion, reporting on military units that had joined the opposition and giving instructions to crowds.

In the end the ailing Marcos, who is reported to be suffering from a form of systemic lupus erythematosus, a disease in which human antibodies attack the body's tissue, especially the kidneys, was woefully uninformed as to what the reformers were really up to and how much support they had gained. Says Enrile: "Evidently the President was a captive of a group in the military. That was the sad thing about it."

Reagan Administration policy during the final hours of the Marcos reign was set during a meeting last Sunday morning in the Bethesda, Md., home of Secretary of State George Shultz, at which the President's special envoy, Philip Habib, who had returned from Manila only hours before, presented a report on his trip. In attendance were Caspar Weinberger, the Secretary of Defense; Admiral William Crowe Jr., chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; Robert Gates, deputy director for intelligence of the Central Intelligence Agency; and John Poindexter, the National Security Adviser. Also present were three officials who had been preoccupied with the Philippine crisis for months: Michael Armacost, Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs; Paul Wolfowitz, Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs; and Richard Armitage, Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Policy.

The group agreed on four principles, which were subsequently presented to President Reagan: Marcos' ability to govern with the consent of his people had ended; any effort by him to crush the reform movement would only worsen the situation; it was of great importance to the U.S. that force not be used; and it would be damaging to U.S. standing in the world if Marcos were treated like the Shah of Iran, who was admitted to the U.S. for medical treatment but was not permitted by the Carter Administration to remain. As it turned out, Marcos was less worried about the fate of the Shah than about what happened to Ngo Dinh Diem, the South Vietnamese President who was assassinated during a 1963 coup. Says one senior American official: "He wanted to make sure he did not leave with a bullet."

President Reagan, who had once solidly supported Marcos, quickly accepted the four-point policy. Reagan's views had already been shifting during the previous three weeks. Indeed, in response to Marcos' deteriorating situation, he had moved rapidly from his dismaying remark after the election that there had probably been voting fraud on both sides to a White House statement condemning the election as fatally flawed by fraud, most of it on the part of the Marcos forces.

At a Sunday-afternoon meeting of the National Security Council, Special Envoy Habib reported flatly, "The Marcos era has ended." Shultz summarized the views of the participants by saying that "not a person here" believed Marcos could remain in power, adding, "He's had it." President Reagan agreed but remained concerned about the fate of Marcos. Said Reagan: "We'll treat this man in retirement with dignity. He is not to wander."

By then the Administration was emphasizing as strongly as possible that Marcos should avoid a military showdown. On Saturday, Reagan sent the Philippine leader an appeal not to use force to remain in power. Next day he dispatched a second message, advising Marcos that he as well as his family and close associates was welcome to live in the U.S. White House Spokesman Larry Speakes announced that American military aid to the Philippines would be cut off if troops loyal to Marcos used the army against the Philippine reform movement forces led by Enrile and Ramos. On Sunday evening, Shultz and Under Secretary of State Armacost met at the State Department with Blas Ople, Marcos' Minister of Labor, who had come to Washington to plead the Philippine President's case. According to Ople, the American diplomats gave him a blunt message: Marcos had lost control of his army, the troops under General Ver were ineffectual, and if Marcos did not step down, the country could be heading for civil war. A similar statement was sent to the U.S. Ambassador in Manila, Stephen Bosworth, who took it to Marcos.

It was early Monday morning before Ople finally managed to talk to Marcos by telephone. The Philippine President was angry that while his palace was being threatened and his television station taken over, the U.S. was telling him not to defend himself. He told Ople that Mrs. Marcos was there beside him and "she doesn't want to leave." Later that day, at about the same time Marcos was calling Senator Laxalt, Imelda Marcos telephoned Nancy Reagan. The message was the same: Mrs. Reagan urged the Marcoses to avoid bloodshed, expressed concern for their family, and assured Mrs. Marcos that they were welcome to come to the U.S.

The Administration was worried about General Ver, who on Monday was still in a position to attempt a last-gasp military move. There were reports that he was about to send tanks to attack the reformers. Accordingly, the National Security Council sent a message to Ver advising him that it would not be in his "interest" to make a military move. Translation: if he called out troops, he would forfeit his chance of being included in the Marcos rescue operation. The warning was heeded.

In the period following the Aquino assassination, American policymakers had become increasingly concerned about the Philippines' rapid political and economic decline. One particular concern was the future status of the two large U.S. military installations in the Philippines, Clark Air Base and Subic Bay Naval Base. The leases on those facilities will run out in 1991, but the U.S. hopes that they can be renegotiated. Following a 1984 policy review by the National Security Council, which concluded that Marcos would "try to remain in power indefinitely," the Administration began to work for economic, political and military reform in the Philippines. Shultz laid down the overriding principle: the U.S. must be loyal to the institutions of democracy, not to Marcos.

In October, Reagan sent Senator Laxalt to Manila to tell Marcos that changes had to be made. Said Laxalt last week: "He was getting messages through State, but he just wasn't believing them." Laxalt told him that the Philippine army had to spend more time dealing with the Communist insurgents.

Pressure on Marcos was also building in the U.S. Congress. Senator Richard Lugar, Indiana Republican and chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, who headed an official American team of poll watchers that observed the elections, concluded that there had been many instances of fraud, vote tampering, violence and intimidation by Marcos partisans. In a telephone conversation with Marcos just after the voting, Laxalt observed that certain aspects of the elections had been "rather strange," such as reports that Marcos had carried one province by a vote of 13,000 to 0. That was not a province, it was a precinct, said Marcos, and "it was family." When Laxalt answered, "I doubt very much if I ran in my home district I would get all the votes of my family," Marcos, who knew that the Senator's parents were French Basque immigrants, replied, "Well, Filipinos are more clannish than you independent Basques."

Washington's fear of a bloodbath was not unfounded. Early Monday morning a crowd of Marcos supporters armed with batons and tear gas moved toward Camp Crame, where the reformers were gathered. Over transistor radios, Marcos was ! heard vowing, "We'll wipe them out. It is obvious they are committing a rebellion." And over Radio Veritas came Enrile's reply, "I am not going to surrender."

Tanks arrived. When helicopters from the 15th strike wing of the air force began circling overhead, it looked as if the reformist rebellion was all over. If the choppers had fired into the Enrile-Ramos headquarters, the reformers would have been helpless. But then the choppers landed, and out came airmen waving white flags and giving the "L" sign for laban (fight), a symbol of the opposition. Suddenly the crowd, realizing that the air force was now defecting, went wild.

Perhaps the most ominous moment came that same morning, shortly after Marcos announced on a televised news conference that he was declaring a state of emergency. At that point his armed forces Chief of Staff, General Ver, whispered to Marcos in a voice that was audible to the whole nation, "Sir, we are ready to annihilate them at your orders . . . We are left with no option but to attack." Marcos did not respond. Whether he knew it or not, his failure to move swiftly against Enrile and Ramos, one of the more honorable acts of his tarnished presidency, had already cost him the office he was fighting so desperately to retain.

Instead he went on with his press conference, but at 8:47 he was interrupted in mid-sentence as the government-run television station, Channel 4, suddenly went off the air. When it reappeared three hours later, the newscaster jubilantly declared, "This is the first free broadcast of Channel 4 . . . The people have taken over." Beside him was Colonel Mariano Santiago, who until last year had been the Marcos-appointed chairman of the country's Board of Transportation. To many Filipinos, the seizure of Channel 4 was one of the most remarkable events of an endlessly astonishing week.

Tuesday was the day of the twin inaugurals. Aquino had wanted a daylight ceremony because, as she said in her address, "it is fitting and proper that, as the rights and liberties of our people were taken away at midnight 14 years ago (when martial law was declared), the people should formally recover those rights and liberties in the full light of day." An hour later Ferdinand Marcos stepped onto the balcony at Malacanang Palace before a crowd of 4,000 cheering supporters and took the oath of office. "Whatever we have before us, we will overcome," he promised, while Imelda vowed to serve the people "all my life up to my last breath." Though she was choked with emotion, few people outside the palace sensed that this was to be the Marcoses' farewell. Then the Marcoses sang favorite songs, at one point offering a duet to the cheers of the invited guests. Conspicuously absent was Marcos' Vice President, Arturo Tolentino, who later said that he had not wanted to take the oath of office because he hoped to play an intermediary role between Marcos and the reformists.

An hour after the ceremony, Marcos telephoned Enrile and demanded that he "stop firing at the palace." Enrile said he had no troops there. Marcos asked him to call Ambassador Bosworth to find out if the U.S. could provide the Marcoses with security in flying out of the palace. Enrile promised to do so. Marcos had previously raised the possibility of retiring to Ilocos Norte, his home province in the northern Philippines, but had been discouraged from doing so by his family and by the new government. At 9:05 p.m., four American helicopters picked up the President, Imelda and a contingent of relatives and aides, including General Ver, and flew them to the U.S. air base.

As the week ended, Reagan Administration policymakers breathed a great sigh of relief that their plans and strategies, so painstakingly worked out over the past two years, had gone so well. Both Republicans and Democrats praised the handling of the Philippine crisis. Officials counted themselves incredibly lucky. Noting that events had passed without appreciable bloodshed, a senior U.S. official in Washington ruefully remarked that the Lord surely looks after "fools, children, the Philippines and the U.S.A."

After its initial concern about how the inexperienced Corazon Aquino would fare as President, the Administration was relieved that she gave important jobs to Laurel, Enrile, Ramos and other centrists, and adopted so conciliatory a tone toward her former opponents. Already there were hints of trouble ahead over the Marcoses' relocation, whether they decided to settle in Hawaii, California, New York or elsewhere, and over the legal status of Marcos' properties abroad. Though Marcos' only known income was his presidential salary of $5,700 a year, the Central Intelligence Agency has reportedly estimated the value of his family's worldwide holdings at perhaps $2 billion. New York's Democratic Congressman Stephen Solarz observed mildly last week, "There is a strong presumption that he had a very good financial adviser ^ or acquired the millions of dollars he has through presumptively improper means." Aboard the plane that carried Marcos to Hawaii, federal authorities found $1.2 million in Philippine currency, and another planeload of Marcos' personal effects arrived at week's end. Solarz said that while he thought it was appropriate for Reagan to offer Marcos sanctuary, the President had certainly not offered Marcos "immunity against civil proceedings brought by the government of the Philippines to recover a fortune stolen from the Philippines."

But for the moment the Administration was relieved to have passed the center of the storm. Even as he praised Marcos for his "difficult and courageous decision" to step down, Reagan congratulated Aquino on the "democratic outcome" of the elections and promised to work closely with her government in rebuilding the Philippine economy and armed forces.


Source: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,960859,00.html