Showing posts with label Controversies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Controversies. Show all posts

May 6, 2014

The 2012 Framework Agreement on the Bangsamoro

On October 7, 2012, the Government of Philippines and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front released the Framework of Agreement on the Bangsamoro, which will pave the way for the establishment of the new autonomous political entity, the Bangsamoro, to replace the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao. The agreement was signed on the afternoon of October 15, 2012, in ceremonies held in Malacañan Palace, witnessed by President Benigno S. Aquino III, Malaysian Prime Minister Dato’ Sri Mohd Najib Bin Tun Haji Abdul Razak, and other dignitaries.

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May 30, 2012

Impeachment of Chief Justice Corona: The Vote of Senate President Juan Ponce Enrile


On Article II of the Articles of Impeachment against
Hon. Chief Justice Renato C. Corona

In the entire course of this impeachment trial, I have faced many difficult challenges to my own and the Court's collective wisdom, our sense of justice and fairness, the delicate balancing act we must perform to ensure that we do not stray from the strictures of the Constitution, the law and our rules.

This trial began and unfolded against the backdrop of a highly charged and emotional atmosphere, acrimonious debate in and outside the confines of this Court, and a deep political fissure which threatened the stability of our democratic institutions.

But the impact of the many events that transpired since December 12 last year to this very day, taken altogether, cannot compare to the sense of heaviness that I feel at this very moment.

The culmination of this national drama is at hand, and the time has come for me to render judgment on the person before whom I took my Oath of Office as a Senator of the Republic...no less than the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Renato C. Corona.

The Respondent Chief Justice and his family understandably feel deeply hurt, pained and aggrieved.

As a lawyer, I must confess that I was personally frustrated by the loose and hasty crafting and preparation that characterized the presentation of the charges contained in the Articles of Impeachment. It seemed that the case was being built up only after the charges were actually filed. The repeated recourse to this Court's compulsory processes to obtain evidence which normally should have formed the factual basis of the charges in the first place further burdened and, at times, taxed the patience of this Court.

We have witnessed with disdain the indiscriminate, deliberate and illegal machinations of some parties who have been less than forthright with this Court in presenting dubiously procured and misleading documents which were spread to the media obviously to influence this Court's and the public's opinion.

The letter of the Administrator of the Land Registration Authority which contained, as an attachment, a list of 45 properties supposedly owned by the Respondent Chief Justice, was fed to the media even before we could begin the actual trial of this case.

Even before the Hon. Ombudsman, Conchita Carpio Morales, was called to testify before this Court, her letter to the Chief Justice requiring him to explain in 72 hours an alleged aggregate amount of US$10M in several dollar accounts was leaked to the media right before the resumption of this trial last May 7.

We have sternly cautioned against unethical and unprofessional conduct, the penchant to engage in trial by publicity, to use the media to disseminate and advance so called "information" or "evidence", to provoke and disrespect this Court and its members, and to irresponsibly hurl disparaging insinuations and accusations.

We have tried to impress upon everyone who may be similarly motivated and inclined to test our will that this Court means serious business and would not succumb to nor allow such underhanded tactics and gimmickry to deter us from our task.

Prudence and justice dictate that in determining the guilt or innocence of the Chief Justice, we must try our best to confine ourselves to the pieces of testimonial and documentary evidence that have been presented to this Court, to pass upon their relevance, and to measure and weigh their value in the light of the charges before us.

After all the accusations levelled against the Chief Justice - eight (8) charges in all comprising the Articles of Impeachment - the Prosecution chose to present evidence only on three Articles (Articles II, III and VII), and abruptly rested its case.

I have always believed that of these three, the case for the Prosecution and the Defense will rise or fall on Article II, which is the subject of this vote.

This Court, at one point, had extensive discussions and differences of opinion, to be sure, regarding the charge contained in Paragraph 2.4 of Article II that the Chief Justice was "suspected and accused of having accumulated ill-gotten wealth, acquiring assets of high values and keeping bank accounts with huge deposits".

We ruled to disallow the introduction of evidence in support of Par. 2.4 which, to this day, I strongly maintain was an invalid charge, it being based on mere "suspicion", on so-called "reports", rather than on factual allegations.

The Defense and the Chief Justice himself somehow revived this issue of the nature of his assets by introducing evidence to prove that his income and assets were legitimate, and by testimony to show how he and his wife had saved and invested these savings in foreign currency over so many decades.

I wish to reiterate, for the record, that the Chief Justice does not stand accused of having amassed any ill-gotten wealth before this Impeachment Court.

Paragraph 2.2 of Article II of the Articles of Impeachment accuses the Respondent Chief Justice of failing to disclose to the public his statement of assets, liabilities and net worth as required by the Constitution.
I submit that the Chief Justice had justifiable and legal grounds to rely on the Supreme Court's procedural and policy guidelines governing such disclosures as embodied in a Resolution promulgated way back in 1989 when the Respondent was not yet a Member of the Supreme Court.

Under the said guidelines, the Clerk of Court of the Supreme Court, who is the repository of the SALN's submitted by all the Members of the Supreme Court, may furnish copies of the SALN's in his or her custody to any person upon request, and upon showing that there is a legitimate reason for the same.

The Constitution, in Article XI, Sec. 17, states that "in the case of the President, the Vice-President, the Members of the Supreme Court, the Constitutional Commissions and other constitutional offices, and offices of the armed forces with general or flag rank, the declaration shall be disclosed to the public in the manner provided by law".

R.A. 6713, known as the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees, recognizes the public's right to information on the assets, liabilities, net worth, financial and business interests of public servants. But it likewise declares it unlawful for any person "to obtain or use the same for purposes contrary to morals or public policy or for any commercial purpose other than by news and communications media for dissemination to the general public".

Whether the said guidelines violate the letter and spirit of R.A. 6713 and the principle of public accountability is not for this Court to pass upon. I grant that the Chief Justice believed in good faith that after periodically filing his sworn Statement of Assets, Liabilities and Net Worth, the guidelines issued by the Supreme Court were sufficient to allow the Clerk of Court to comply with the Constitution and the law.

We cannot ignore the fact that the failure or refusal, particularly of public officials in high government positions, to provide the public or the media with copies of the SALN's, continues to be a raging issue to this day. In fact, some, if not most of the members of the Prosecution panel itself, the Members of the Supreme Court, members of Congress and other high officials of the government have been challenged by media organizations to make their SALN's available to the public and to the media.

Paragraph 2.3 of Article II further accuses the Respondent Chief Justice, based on "reports", of not including some properties in his declaration of his assets, liabilities, and net worth, in violation of the anti-graft and corrupt practices act.

The Prosecution, based on the list it procured from the LRA, claims that the Chief Justice owned and failed to fully disclose in his SALN 45 real estate assets. Based on the evidence, I am convinced that the Defense has presented credible evidence to refute this charge and to explain the exclusion in the Respondent Chief Justice's SALN's of certain properties which have either been sold or legally transferred, properties which are actually owned by his children and/or third parties, and properties which were never owned by the Respondent in the first place.

I am likewise convinced that the Defense has sufficiently established that there was no ill intention on the part of the Respondent to understate or misrepresent the value of his real properties.
Proceeding now to the most significant charge involving the non-disclosure of the Respondent Chief Justice's cash assets, the Ombudsman, at the instance of the Defense, testified with a presentation of a report from the Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLC), showing 82 bank accounts allegedly belonging to the Respondent.

She further testified that based on her analysis of the report, aided by the Commission on Audit, the Chief Justice had cash assets in the examined bank accounts of anywhere from US$10 Million to US$ 12 Million.
Even if we grant the existence of these 82 accounts, the amount of deposits corresponding to each of these could not just easily, fairly or logically be summed up to arrive at exactly how much cash assets or deposits, in actuality and in totality, the Respondent Chief Justice had or has at any given point in time.

Hence, the Ombudsman's reference to a "transactional balance" of about US$12 Million should not mislead this Court in its appreciation of the facts.

Regrettably, both the Prosecution and the Defense panels decided not to present the concerned bank officers or the AMLC to ascertain the veracity of the data allegedly provided by the AMLC to the Office of the Ombudsman, despite the Respondent's submission to this Court of a written waiver to cause the opening of all his bank accounts. Laudable as this belated act on the part of the Respondent Chief Justice may be, it would have served him better if he had just presented bank documents as evidence to either confirm or refute the documents showing his bank transactions as presented by the Ombudsman. It has not escaped this Presiding Officer that initially, last May 22nd to be exact, before he walked out of the halls of this Court, the Chief Justice signed the said waiver in open court but made the release of the same conditional, that is, after all the 188 signatories to the Articles of Impeachment and Senator-Judge Franklin Drilon have signed a similar waiver. It was only during the hearing last May 25 that the Chief Justice decided to submit the waiver to the Court without any conditions.

Moreover, even as the Chief Justice had full access to his own bank accounts and all the opportunity to introduce evidence to disprove the data, findings and analysis presented by the Ombudsman or the report of the AMLC, the Defense did not introduce any such evidence.
As it is, the Impeachment Court could only rely on the documents supplied by the Ombudsman which show the Respondent's bank transactions but which do not show the actual bank balances of Respondent's bank accounts.

Instead, the Defense presented the Chief Justice himself as its last witness and pleaded for the Court's permission to allow the Respondent to deliver an "opening statement".
This Court, out of courtesy to the Chief Justice, decided to extend its understanding and to exercise liberality in granting the request.

The long narration, where the Chief Justice touched on a wide range of issues, assertions of facts, accusations, opinions and personal sentiments, which the Respondent said he found necessary to narrate in order to clear his and his family's name, was later adopted by the Defense as the direct testimony of the Respondent. The Prosecution, on the other hand, waived its right to cross-examine the Chief Justice, provided the Defense would not conduct any further direct examination.

Nevertheless, the Respondent Chief Justice testified and admitted, in answer to questions from a member of this Court, that he had around P80 Million in 3 Peso accounts and US$2.4 Million in 4 US Dollar accounts, but that he had purposely not declared these assets for 2 reasons: (1) That his Peso accounts represented "co-mingled funds", and (2) That he was not required to report or declare his foreign currency deposits in his SALN because they were absolutely confidential under R.A. 6426.

I disagree on both counts.

If, indeed, any of the Respondent's cash deposits were co-mingled with the funds belonging to other parties such as the Basa Guidote Enterprises, Inc. (BGEI) or his children, the Respondent was still duty bound to declare these deposits in his SALN, they being admittedly under his name.

The evidence is devoid of any indication that the Chief Justice was holding these funds in trust for or that they were actually beneficially owned by any one other than himself or his wife.

Assuming that any part of such deposits in truth belonged to third parties, the Respondent could have indicated such third-party funds as corresponding liabilities in his SALN. That would have reflected his real net worth.

With all due respect, I believe that the Respondent Chief Justice's reliance on the absolute confidentiality accorded to foreign currency deposits under Section 8 of Republic Act No. 6426 is grossly misplaced.

The Constitution, in Article XI, Sec. 17, provides that "A public officer or employee shall, upon assumption of office and as often as may be required by law, submit a declaration under oath of his assets, liabilities and net worth. x x x "

Are we now to say that this Constitutional command is limited to a public official's assets or deposits in local currency? If so, would we not be saying, in effect, that the Constitution allows something less than a full, honest and complete disclosure?

It bears noting that the prescribed form of the SALN quite simply requires public officers and employees to declare their assets, real and personal, the latter to include cash and bank deposits, bonds, etc. It does not require the public officer or employee to indicate whether or not he or she has foreign currency notes or deposits. Neither does it require details such as account numbers, account names, bank identity nor any branch address. All that it requires is a declaration of the total amount of the funds deposited in any bank account or accounts maintained by the public official or employee concerned.

Surely, the Chief Justice knows the equivalent value in local currency of his foreign currency deposits to be able to declare the same as part of his assets, especially since the aggregate amount of these foreign currency deposits, by his own account, amounts to US$2.4 Million.

The non-disclosure of these deposits, in both local and foreign currency, would naturally result in a corresponding distortion of the Chief Justice's real net worth.

Consistent with the position taken by this Court in the case filed by the Philippine Savings Bank before the Supreme Court last February, pursuant to which the Supreme Court issued a Temporary Restraining Order, I maintain that the Constitutional principle of public accountability overrides the absolute confidentiality of foreign currency deposits.

The provisions of R.A. 6426 cannot be interpreted as an exception to the unequivocal command and tenor of Article XI, Sec. 17, of the 1987 Constitution, and I regret that the Highest Magistrate of the land, no less, would think otherwise.

Section 8 of R.A. 6426 provides that except with the written permission of the depositor, "in no instance shall foreign currency deposits be examined, inquired or looked into by any person, government official, bureau or office whether judicial or administrative or legislative or any other entity whether public or private."
The so-called conflict of laws between R.A. Nos. 6713 and 6426 is more illusory than real. Section 8 of R.A. No. 6426 merely prohibits the examination, inquiry or looking into a foreign currency deposit account by an entity or person other than the depositor himself. But there is nothing in R.A. No. 6426 which prohibits the depositor from making a declaration on his own of such foreign currency funds, especially in this case where the Constitution mandates the depositor who is a public officer to declare all assets under oath.

Some have raised the question: Why should the Chief Justice be held accountable for an offense which many, if not most others in Government are guilty of, perhaps even more than he is? They say that hardly anyone declares his true net worth anyway.

Here lies what many have posited as a moral dilemma. I believe it is our duty to resolve this "dilemma" in favor of upholding the law and sound public policy. If we were to agree with the Respondent that he was correct in not disclosing the value of his foreign currency deposits because they are absolutely confidential, can we ever expect any SALN to be filed by public officials from hereon to be more accurate and true than they are today?

I am not oblivious to the possible political repercussions of the final verdict we are called upon to render today. I am deeply concerned that the people may just so easily ignore, forget, if not completely miss out, the hard lessons we all must learn from this episode, instead of grow and mature as citizens of a democratic nation.

Those whose intentions and motivations may be farthest from the lofty ideals of truth and justice are wont to feast upon this man's downfall should this Court render a guilty verdict.
I am equally aware of the tremendous pressure weighing heavily upon all the members of this Court as we had to come to a decision on this case, one way or the other.

But to render a just verdict according to my best lights and my own conscience is a sacred duty that I have sworn to perform.

As one who has been through many personal upheavals through all of my 88 years, I, too, have been judged, often unfairly and harshly. But I have constantly held that those who face the judgment of imperfect and fallible mortals like us have recourse to the judgment of history, and, ultimately, of God.

And so, with full trust that the Almighty will see us through the aftermath of this chapter in our nation's history, I vote to hold the Chief Justice, Renato C. Corona, GUILTY as charged under Article II, Par. 2.3, and that his deliberate act of excluding substantial assets from his sworn Statement of Assets, Liabilities and Net Worth constitutes a culpable violation of the Constitution.

Feb 13, 2011

The “Untimely Withdrawal” of Roger de la Rosa

In Classic articles on February 10, 2010 at 9:33 am
The “Untimely Withdrawal” of Roger de la Rosa
By Quijano de Manila
November 1961

EXPLODING ten days before E-Day, the opposition’s 50-megaton bomb has, during these last rapt days of the campaign, been spreading lethal fall-out—in the NP camp, say the LPs, who claim that the hysteria with which NP spokesmen reacted to the bomb betrayed how utterly the majority party was demoralized by it; in the LP camp, say the NPs, who claim that defections to the Garcia camp of some of Roger’s followers, with whom the LPs might have proved that politics is addition, indicate that the bomb may have blown up in the LP’s faces, because a lot of people, disgusted by it, have abandoned both Roger and Macapagal.

Both claims may be correct. It’s impossible, after all, of control the drift of fallout; and the opposition bomb could have caused damage in all the three camps involved. But the resonance of the explosion, the brilliance of the publicity, could have done the LPs no harm at all, being worth several months of campaigning and a million pesos’ worth of propaganda, focusing, as it did, national attention on the Liberals. And the beauty of it is that the NPs themselves helped whip up national interest in the LP show.

The LPs had the bomb ready by November 2, were set to detonate it, with grisly humor, on November 4, President Garcia’s birthday—but how get the public to wait agog for the explosion? To enhance the force of the bomb, public interest and suspense should precede it—but how build up the suspense? The LPs thought of putting ads in the papers bidding the public watch out for a terrific event, but the ad gimmick had been worked to death this election year: one more political ad promising a sensation might create no sensation at all.

Then providence stepped in. Somebody (the LPs suspect a disgruntled ex-adviser of Roger de la Rosa) leaked the news of Roger’s withdrawal to Malacañang. “And Malacañang,” happily grin the LPs, “did the rest.” The LPs have reason to describe initial NP reaction to the bomb as “hysterical,” for the first public announcement of it was made by radio news commentator Rafael Yabut, on November 3.

Mr. Yabut, never a tepid speaker to begin with, was more overwrought than usual as, with a shocked sob in his voice and much banging of his fists, he informed the nation that, even as he spoke, a dastardly plot was being laid, a monstrous deal was being consummated, and a presidential candidate was withdrawing from the race for unspeakable reasons, reasons that had driven the candidate’s wife, in disgust, to attempt suicide.

Mr. Yabut named no names, but everybody knew whom he was accusing of such fearful stratagems.

Mr. Yabut was followed by Malacañang Press Secretary Jose Nable, who, the next day, had even more lurid revelations to make.

Mr. Nable declared that:

“The presidential aspirant agreed to withdraw from the race in favor of the other candidate in consideration of the staggering amount of P500,000.

“In addition to the P500,000, the withdrawing candidate would be granted complete and absolute control of the Central Bank and the Commission of Customs, and the freedom to fill up any three Cabinet positions;

“The withdrawing candidate had proposed identical terms to President Garcia but President Garcia had rejected the proposal outright as he condemned the attempt to commercialize the highest post in the gift of our people, and bluntly told this particular candidate that the post of president can never be for sale;

“As a result of this withdrawal, and after failing to dissuade her husband, the wife of the withdrawing candidate took poison and was committed to a private hospital.”

Mr. Nable had taken the trouble to dig up all these horrors so that “the entire Filipino people” might be warned against “this great conspiracy” against them.

Cried Mr. Nable, aghast:

“The Judas in Philippine politics, who has all this time campaigned and posed as the champion of the common people, will betray the very masses whom he swore to defend and protect. The Biblical sale of Christ for 30 pieces of silver has found its counterpart in the twentieth century.”

And he branded this attempt by the withdrawing candidate “to deliver to a political ally the votes that were entrusted to him by a trusting electorate” as “the most unique in double-cross,” apparently forgetting that the Nacionalistas had nothing but praise for Ambassador Romulo when Mr. Romulo withdrew from the presidential race in 1953 to support the Nacionalista candidate. Did not Mr. Romulo, too, deliver to a political ally the votes entrusted to him by a trusting electorate—or is sauce for the goose applesauce for the gander?

Nor should Mr. Nable be so worried that this “unholy alliance” has brought about “a national shame that mars the good name of our country before the eyes of the nations of the world.” Politics is understood to be naughty everywhere in the world; even in such a civilized country as the United States, a politician of the stature of Mr. Richard Nixon, who is planning to run for governor of his state, can be and was recently accused of trying to persuade, with a very juicy deal, the incumbent governor not to run again—and the Americans are not exactly hanging their heads in shame.

Moreover, Mr. Nable’s use of such epithets as “Judas” and “double-cross” are so passionate one begins to wonder if the passion is really in behalf of the voters whom, after all, the Nacionalistas have always contemptuously characterized as the ignorant fans of a movie idol. To call somebody “Judas” is to imply that he was the confidant of whomever he betrayed; and the term “double-cross” presupposes a shady deal. Was Mr. Nable trying to say that a third party—of whom Roger was a confidant and with whom he had a deal—had been made a fool of?

Mr. Nable’s metaphorical language is rather obscure; Roger himself is more forthright. At the November 4 press conference he remarked casually: “The rumor is that Malacañang paid me to run.” Roger dismissed the rumor as just a rumor; so why should Mr. Nable persist in hinting that a Dr. Frankenstein was assaulted by his own creature?

The story is that whoever was helping finance Roger’s campaign got scared and furious when Roger started invading the South; so the subsidy stopped. The break may be roughly dated about three weeks ago, after Amang Rodriguez had bluntly declared: “At this stage of the campaign, De la Rosa is getting more votes from Garcia than from Macapagal.”

And at this stage of the game, do all the NP innocents whose sense of honor has been so deeply outraged have to be told that politics is rough and dirty and that little boys who play with fire can get burned?

Unextended run
The Yabut broadcast started a run on the bank. From noon of November 3, the bakya-and-salakot crowd began storming Roger’s house, wanting to know if his slogan—“We Shall Return To Malacañang With Roger De La Rosa As President”—had indeed shrunk to a starker notice: “No Returns, No Refunds.”

His henchmen say they were afraid there would be trouble that night, so ugly was the temper of the idol’s fans. The early-evening crowd, mostly from the suburbs, eventually dispersed; but by two o-clock in the morning another crowd, from more distant hinterlands, had formed in front of the senator’s gate and was demanding to be let in. These indignant visitors were admitted and staged what practically amounted to a sit-down strike in the large nipa house on the senator’s lawn.

“Let us not move from here,” said they, “until he himself comes and tells us what he really intends to do.”

Noon came, and they were still there, squatting inside the nipa house and along the driveway, but their leader had still not appeared to them.

Only a few of them were allowed inside the senator’s residence, and there they found not Roger but his brother Jaime, who, when asked about Roger, replied with a scathing attack on the administration.

One thing must be said for Roger: he really drew the peasant crowd, for the faces one saw on his lawn that morning had the look of the Philippine earth: burned black by the sun and gnarled by misery. The men were in cheap polo shirts, the women in shapeless camisolas. It was obvious they had dressed in a hurry. One heard that this one had come all the way from Quezon, that one all the way from Cagayan; a man said he had flown in from Mindanao. All had a common complaint: why did they have to learn about this from Yabut? Why hadn’t Roger taken them into his confidence? They all claimed to be volunteer workers who had used their own money to spread Roger’s cause. If Roger backed out, they would lose face. How could they return to their barrios if they had lost face?

They all clung to the hope that all this was but more “black propaganda.” Their boy had not withdrawn; or if he was thinking of doing so, they would persuade him to continue the fight: let him but appear before them.

A cry rose up:

“Matalong lumalaban, huwag matalong umuurong (To go down fighting, not to go down retreating)!”

Had he lost heart because he had run out of funds? There was still some money they could scrape up among themselves; one man said he had already contributed P3,000 and was willing to contribute more; after all, there were only ten days left of the campaign. It didn’t matter if Roger was a sure loser.

“Let the votes we cast for him,” cried a bespectacled woman from Binangonan, “be a clear picture for 1965!”

The cheers that greeted this seemed to indicate that the Roger extravaganza would, by insistent public request, be extended for another ten days. Poor deluded rustics who did not know that the decision had already been made! They could cheer and argue and weep all they wanted; they were standing outside a closed door. Their fate was being settled, without their knowledge, in other rooms of other houses behind other doors, while they offered their very blood to the cause.

But as the day climbed toward noon and no Roger showed up, hope became feebler, the mutterings became darker. Inside the nipa house and all over the driveway, angry knots of disciples debated what to do.

Some said they would still vote for Roger, even if he had withdrawn, even if their votes should be “nulo.” Others cried that Roger could commit himself but not them to another candidate. The angriest spoke bitterly about the quality of Pampango blood and swore that they would, in protest, go over to the Garcia camp. A few still wistfully hoped that Roger would come and tell them that the show would go on.

By five that afternoon, the hope was dead. Roger had appeared on TV, with Macapagal; the withdrawal had been announced, the change of stand had been made.

That night, Roger’s house stood dark and silent. Gone were the noisy folk who had filled the lawn all day. The angry ones made good their threat and went over to the Garcia camp that very night. The undecided ones crept back to their barrios, wondering how to save face. The trip back must have been agonizing: whichever way they looked they saw that handsome face smiling from posters, from billboards, from streamers hung across roads, promising Malacañang to all these pathetic folk who had hitched their carretelas to a star.

Operation Rabbit
They did not know it, but they had been looking up that day at a dead star, a star that had ceased to exist days before, though seemingly “still in its appointed place in the heavens,” a star that had, in fact, begun to fade away two weeks before, in mid-October, which was when negotiations started between he Roger and Macapagal camps.

The initial feelers were made by two men who are, like Roger and Macapagal, from Lubao; all four were boys together. In Roger’s camp was Atty. Antonio Ybarra, his legal adviser, who had begun to feel that carrying on the fight was futile. In Macapagal’s camp, the contact man was former Pampanga governor Jose Lingad, whose intent, at first, was merely to effect a reconciliation between Roger and Macapagal. The two had been like brothers since boyhood; Lingad felt that even politics should not have turned them into mortal enemies. Why could they not continue to be friends though rivals? When Lingad discovered that Roger, faced by a financial crisis in his campaign, might not only be willing to re-establish friendship but might even be persuaded to back out in favor of Macapagal, what had started as a peacemaking mission turned into a frantic political operation.

Two more men entered the picture: Jaime de la Rosa from Roger’s camp; Amelito Mutuc from Macapagal’s camp. Lingad continued to be the liaison man, traveling from one camp to another, following the two candidates to the field, and sending back to Manila coded messages on the progress of the negotiations.

The strategists named their project Operation Rabbit; to ensure secrecy they have every participant a code name. Macapagal and Roger were respectively referred to as Oscar and Cesar, the names they had used in zarzuela days; Ybarra was called Paul (because he warbles in the Paul Anka manner); Lingad was dubbed Bob Steele (because he looks like a brawny cowboy); and Amelito Mutuc, over his indignant protests, was named Nehru. Mutuc says that the others could never remember his code name; one time he sent Lingad a telegram signed Nehru and Lingad wired back: Who the hell is Nehru?

Negotiations were going smoothly when something happened that almost blew them up: two sisters of Roger, Africa and Gloria, suddenly decided to come out in favor of Macapagal and campaign for him. Later, people would put two and two together and hazard the guess that the decision of the sisters was part of the plot to capture Roger and should have been read as a portent of Roger’s withdrawal; but the organizer’s of Operation Rabbit say that they had nothing to do with the decision of the sisters and were, in fact, more dismayed than delighted by it. For Roger flared up and accused them of bad faith, of continuing the war against him even while discussing peace terms. “Look,” he said, “you’re even using my sisters against me!”

He was finally convinced that what had happened was a fortuitous coincidence, and Operation Rabbit went on. His two sisters were turned over to LP campaign manager Taning Fernandez, who was soon heard loudly wailing: “Now I have three prima donas on my hands—Lacson and the two De la Rosa sisters!”

After two weeks of long-distance, proxy talks, Roger agreed to a face-to-face meeting with Lingad and Mutuc. The site chosen was Ybarra’s house, which is in a wild lonely hinterland of Quezon City. The appointment was for Halloween night, but Roger, who was campaigning in Laguna, did not show up until two in the morning. He came with his brother Jaime. Waiting up for him were Ybarra, Lingad and Mutuc.

The two LP men at first kept the talk on Roger’s campaign, praising his ability to draw the masses. Says Mutuc: “Roger is a sentimental man and is really sincere about wanting to improve the conditions of the masses. Talk to him about them and he softens up. Then it’s easy to reason with him.”

They asked him what his conditions would be for withdrawing. Roger said he wanted his program of government to be adopted by Macapagal, no retaliation against his men, and the promise that he could continue to do what he had been doing: acting as a “bridge” between the people and the government. He made one tangible demand: that he be given a higher place in the LP hierarchy.

Mutuc scoffs at the rumors that the withdrawal was a financial bargain: “As a matter of fact, I felt sure that one of Roger’s conditions would be reimbursement of his campaign expenses, but he didn’t even ask for that.”

Mutuc says that Roger said that he was impelled to consider withdrawing from the race by the thought of his followers: he himself was not afraid of defeat but he did not relish the thought that he was surely leading his followers to defeat; by leading them into the Macapagal camp, he felt he was leading them to victory. Roger, it seems, has been misunderstood by those of his followers who thought he had betrayed them: what he did, he did for their sake.

The conference broke up at dawn, with Roger assuring the LP men that he was ready to withdraw the moment Macapagal accepted his conditions. Mutuc at once sent a telegram to Macapagal, who was in Iligan City: “Operation Rabbit successful. Bob Steele flying to see you.”

Lingad booked passage on a plane and was at the airport at seven that morning. November 1. The plan was that he was to brief Macapagal on what had happened, then fly back to Manila with Macapagal the following day, for the signing of the pact. The withdrawal would be announced that very day, after Roger and Macapagal had signed the pact.

But toward seven in the evening of November 1, Mutuc almost collapsed from surprise when Macapagal walked in. Mutuc lives in Forbes Park; Macapagal had gone there from the airport, was still in his campaign cap and jacket. Nobody knew he was in town.

“But where’s Lingad?” asked Mutuc.

“I don’t know,” replied Macapagal. “I just got his telegram.”

It turned out that Lingad, who was merely a chance passenger on the plane, had not been able to get a seat and didn’t go to Mindanao at all. He had merely sent Macapagal a wire bidding him come to Manila at once. How secret Operation Rabbit was kept may be deduced from the difficulties Lingad had in determining where to send the telegram. He called up LP headquarters for a schedule of Macapagal’s Mindanao tour but the LPs at the headquarters, not knowing that Lingad was on an important mission, refused to tell him where Macapagal was. Lingad had to find out for himself, correctly sent the telegram to Sindangan, Zamboanga del Norte. Macapagal had just arrived there when the wire came; he at once boarded the plane again and flew off to Manila.

Macapagal told Mutuc that he wanted the pact signed that very night if possible because he had to go back to Mindanao the next day for very important rallies. But the pact could not be prepared without Ybarra and Lingad, and Mutuc could not locate them either. Whenever he called up Ybarra, Ybarra’s phone was busy.

“Everything,” sighs Mutuc, “seemed to be happening to me that day!”

Macapapgal, impatient, rushed off to his own house, to greet his wife. It was her birthday and he had a very nice present for her: the news that Roger was practically set to withdraw.
Mutuc finally drove over to Ybarra’s house; he found nobody at home and the telephone receiver improperly hooked: that was why it had been buzzing all the time. He learned that Ybarra and Lingad had both gone home to Lubao, to spend All Saints Day there. He wired them to return at once.

They arrived at two in the morning and, with Mutuc, began drafting the joint manifesto of Roger and Macapagal, the separate statements of each, and the letter to the Commission on Elections. To polish the grammar and give the documents a literary tone, they summoned a veteran workhorse of the Liberal Party: Hermie Atienza.

By five a.m., the papers were ready, Macapagal was called up and came running. Over breakfast, he went over and revised the drafts. Then Ybarra and Lingad rushed them over to Roger’s house, with instructions that they were to be signed at once because Macapagal had to fly back South at ten that morning.

But ten o’clock struck and the emissaries had still not returned. Then word came that Roger had asked for two more days, to consult his leaders, and that he wanted a “confrontation meeting” with Macapagal that noon.

Macapagal decided to defer his trip and consented to the meeting.

He waited in a bedroom of Ybarra’s house, with Lingad, Ybarra and Mutuc. The vice-president was moody and nervous. He said to the three men with him:

“You are close to me, Pepe, and you, Tony, and you, Mel. But I tell you: no one is as close to me as Roger. It nearly broke my heart that the one closest to me should be the one to oppose my bid for the presidency.”

Roger and Jaime de la Rosa arrived and were shown up to the bedroom.

“Pare!” cried Roger when he saw Macapagal.

“Pare!” cried Macapagal as he strode toward Roger.

The two men fell into each other’s arms and burst into tears. The brothers-in-law have, since they grew up, been calling each other pare, being compadres.

The rest of the group left the room, leaving the two erstwhile rivals alone. They had a lot of unburdening to do. They were alone together for an hour, were red-eyed from weeping when they finally called back the others.

Mrs. Ybarra sent lunch up to the bedroom—a festive lauriat she had ordered from a restaurant—but her guests were much too excited to eat. Macapagal said all he could take was boiled eggs.

As he was peeling the eggs he said: “Just look, even this habit of mine of eating boiled eggs, I got from Roger. When I was a sickly body he told me I should eat boiled eggs—and I’ve been doing so ever since.”

Suddenly he began to shake with laughter, leaning toward Roger: “Remember when you and I—the eggs?”

Roger began to roar with laughter too: “And the neighbors chased us?

They had been boys together and this was one of many private memories: one day they had picked up some eggs from a neighbor’s yard and almost got caught.

At three in the afternoon they parted, after another embrace and more tears; and Macapagal flew back to Mindanao. He had managed to sneak away to Manila without making the newsmen in his entourage suspect that something was afoot. The inquisitive ones were told that he had merely gone to greet his wife on her birthday.

Three days later, on November 4, he was back in Manila. After four that afternoon, he and Roger stood side by side before the TV cameras, announcing to the nation that the Pampangos were solid again. The monster bomb had gone off.

Everybody agrees that the timing of the bomb was terrific, though the NPs can be forgiven for saying that the day chosen, President Garcia’s birthday, revealed the quality of the minds behind the bomb.

Together again
The most explosive announcement of this pre-election period was made in a studio of the ABS Station, before a crowd of newsmen and jubilant LPs.

Macapagal arrived first, looking exultant, in light-violent trousers and a silk-colored baro embroidered all over with the LP shield. He strode to the row of newsmen and shook hands with all of them. “I can’t get over the habit, you know,” he quipped.

Lacson was there, and Senator Marcos, and Hermie Atienza, in one of his old suits. Hermie Atienza is one politico who has not been converted to the barong Tagalog; he persists in wearing prewar suits—and do they look prewar. Malicious folk, observing his frayed cuffs and lapels, remark: “The LP really should win, if only so Hermie can buy himself new suits.” But Hermie says that, after his party wins, he will have to give up suits and adopt the baro: “Macapagal says that coats like this one I’m wearing have too many pockets!”

Applause greeted the entrance of Roger, and a shock of surprise, for with him was his wife Lota. She looked like a Garbo, in a dark-chocolate frock and a severe hairdo, the hair swept tight from her face and knotted into a bun that crowned her head. Pale and grave, stark and statuesque, she drew all eyes and necessitated a revision of the program. She said she wanted to speak.

(The joke then current was that Lota had been deeply upset by Roger’s “untimely withdrawal.”)

Roger was in gray trousers and a white shirt with thin check-stripes in blue, and he looked very quiet and serious too, speaking in a very low, often inaudible voice.

Said he:

“After deep soul-searching, I have come to the firm conclusion that the only way we can effect a change for the better in the life of our people is to unite against the present administration. I have thus decided to withdraw my candidacy for the presidency of the Philippines in favor of Vice-President Macapagal.

“Believe me, my friends, my decision was not easy to reach. It means a great personal sacrifice for me and my wife, and for thousands of our friends, sympathizers and supporters who have fought for what we believed to be a just and rightful cause: the cause of the common tao.

“But even the noblest idealism must give way to the unbreakable wall of realism.

“Divided, the opposition will fall; united, it will triumph.

“The presidency, however exalted the office, is and should merely be an instrument for the achievement of the public good. It should never be proclaimed or seen as an end in itself.

“What have I proved during these months that I have been campaigning for the presidency? This: that the masses are no longer the docile, helpless creatures that the political bosses take them to be. They are no longer content to play a passive role, taking what comes as their fate. They are ready and willing to take political action. This I have learned in the few months of my presidential campaign; and to those who seek to betray the people, I say, beware of their power.

“I will not stoop low to answer at this solemn moment the malicious and evil propaganda that are being spread about this decision I have taken. Suffice it to say that my conscience is absolutely and clearly satisfied that this is the best that could be done for our fatherland. Let our people and history be the ultimate judge.”

Macapagal praised the “patriotic step” Roger had taken. “United Opposition victory is doubly assured,” cried he. “This marks the end of the venal Nacionalista regime!”

Then Lota de la Rosa joined her husband and Macapagal at the table in front of the cameras to speak for herself. Her voice is deep, husky and emotional; whenever she mentioned her husband she turned her face toward him.

She said:

“I have decided to appear here this afternoon because of ugly rumors that have been spread to the effect that I am opposed to my husband’s decision to withdraw. This is not true. His decision is my decision.

“Some people, in their evil desire to destroy us, have spread the yarn that I have tried to take my life because of this decision. This is nothing but a lie—a monstrous, evil lie.

“It is true, my friends, that I have been to a hospital. But it was due to my low blood pressure, aggravated by the fatigue and exhaustion caused by the rigors or the campaign. That malicious people in the pay of the powers-that-be have dared distort this fact is evidence of the extent to which they will go in order to continue holding on to that power.”

Afterwards, Roger was interrogated by the newsmen. Did he think his withdrawal enhanced Macapagal’s chances of winning? “As far as I am concerned,” he replied, “the elections are over.” What did he think of Malacañang folk’s comments on his withdrawal? “Tell them,” said he, “to start packing.” And he said he would file libel charges against certain of those folk.

As he spoke, his brother Jaime and his sisters Gloria and Africa stood in the background weeping. Theirs was the only show of emotion during this TV spectacle in which one felt rather than actually saw the drama, watching those two brothers-in-law together again under the spotlights, who had spent their youth together before the spotlights.

Yet the brilliance of the spectacle only heightened the darkness of the mysteries behind it, mysteries that promise more bombs and explosions, mysteries that include two foreigners, one accused of having put up the money for the withdrawal, the other suspected of having leaked the news of the withdrawal to Malacañang. The NPs are especially incensed against the former, having apparently forgotten all the Americans involved in their capture of the Palace in 1953. The LPs are talking deportation too, being wrathful against the other foreigner, whom they believe to have been Roger’s “evil genius,” the one who lured him away from the Liberals.

But the most attentive spectator of that TV spectacle must have been the man in whose honor and on whose birthday it was staged. Down in Tagbilaran, President Garcia turned 65, had a birthday cake, got a kiss from his wife, another kiss from an impetuous lady physician, was at home all day to hundreds of well-wishers. His leaders say that he was undisturbed by the Roger withdrawal, so unconcerned by it that he even laughed merrily as he discussed it with his leaders—at three o’clock in the morning.

The LP bomb seems to have been a multiple birthday present—for President Garcia, who celebrated on November 4; for Mrs. Macapagal, who celebrated on November 1, even for Roger himself, who celebrates on November 12. All these people believe that the bomb increased their respective parties’ chances of winning.

All are sure that the birthday bomb will result in a joyful message on November 14:

“Many happy returns!”

A problem in Philippine history, April 12, 1947

In Classic articles on April 11, 2006 at 12:27 am
A problem in Philippine history
April 12, 1947

Manuel Roxas or Jose Abad Santos?—Which of the Two Was Entrusted by the Late President Manuel Quezon with the Responsibility of Governing the Country During His Absence….
by Sattahari T. Misah, Jolo, Sulu

IN AN article entitled, “The Story of Roxas,” written by Federico Mañgahas in a certain campaign paper, I read something like this: “When President Quezon left Corregidor around the 21st of February, General MacArthur decided that Roxas remain with him. President Quezon, on the other hand, gave Roxas full authority to act for and in his behalf in all matters of government and, particularly, to take charge of the National Treasury.” The writer’s note states that the authority for the story is General Roxas himself.
Felixberto Bustos wrote in his book, “And Now Comes Roxas,” that President Quezon dictated two Executive Orders before leaving Corregidor. One such order delegated to Roxas all extraordinary presidential powers conferred on the Philippine Chief Executive by emergency legislation. The other fixed the presidential succession. In case of death or incapacitation of Quezon, and subsequently, of Osmeña, the presidency would go to Roxas. In the same paragraph, Bustos farther stated that copies of the documents were furnished the President of the United States through the US High Commissioner and the originals were buried with other valuable papers of Roxas in Mindanao.

United in their claims
Mañgahas and Bustos were united in their claims that President Manuel Roxas, then an army man, empowered to exercise the emergency powers granted Quezon by the Philippine Congress, was the direct representative of the latter and consequently, supreme head of the Commonwealth Government of the unoccupied Philippines. They were also united in their purpose in releasing this historical account of Roxas’ life—to boost the latter’s popularity among the masses. Both were motivated by a common desire—to help Roxas become President.
Let us now turn our attention to a Filipino who died in the support of his convictions, of the Philippines, of America and the world, of those high ideals for which they all stand. Let us have a glimpse of how he died during the dark days of the enemy occupation. Let us read T.M. Locsin’s “Last Decision” (FREE PRESS, Nov. 30, 1946). In his note accompanying the picture of Jose Abad Santos and his family, the author states that Santos was the direct representative in the Philippines of the Commonwealth government in exile. Reading the article, we learn that at the time of his death, Santos was acting for and representing the President of the Philippines (the most logical man under the American system of government because he was then a member of the cabinet). In conclusion, we are told by Locsin that the Japanese subjected Santos to intensive investigation because they learned that he had been appointed by Quezon to represent him as head of the Philippine government in the islands; that he was liquidated by the Japs because he refused to obey their demands one of which was to make a broadcast asking General Roxas to surrender. Was Santos then the supreme head of the Philippine government who had been asked by the enemy to make a broadcast to General Roxas to surrender, or a mere secretary of justice asked to make a broadcast to his superior urging him to surrender?
Conflicting theories

This account of the life and activities of Jose Abad Santos would seem to disprove the contention of the two gentlemen, Messrs. Bustos and Mañgahas, who were ahead in claiming the honor for His Excellency, the President, Manuel Roxas. On the other hand, the writing of the biographical sketch of Santos by Locsin must have been inspired by the occasion—National Heroes Day. The occasion demanded that Jose Abad Santos be eulogized and Locsin had to do his best to magnify the dead hero.
As a teacher, the writer can tell his geography class that Tayabas is now “Quezon;” and that the Turtle Islands will soon be a part of the Philippine map. He can tell his history class that Tila Pass in their history books must now be read as “Tirad Pass.” He can cite authorities for all of these. But how can he tell with certainty the same class who was the direct and true representative of the Commonwealth government in exile?
For the benefit of thousands or should I say “millions” of history teachers and students who want to know the true history of their country during the Japanese occupation, Messrs. Bustos, Mañgahas, and Locsin would settle these conflicting theories. They should restore our waning confidence in their ability to deal with facts. Their writings have more influence on the minds of the youth than all the teachers in the Philippines combined.
To the above question, as to who was the official designated by the late President Manuel L. Quezon to represent the Commonwealth government during the Japanese occupation, President Roxas had this to say:

“When I met President Quezon at Del Monte in Mindanao a few days before his departure for Australia, I inquired about Jose Abad Santos. The President told me that he had chosen to remain in the Philippines. He had stayed in Negros with the approval of the president and was by him entrusted with the power of supervision and control over the courts of justice in all unoccupied areas.”

This is an excerpt from a speech delivered before the Supreme Court by then Senate President Roxas during the memorial services for the late Chief Justice on December 2, 1945. On the same occasion, however, than Justice Roman Ozaeta went further and said:

“When President Quezon left for the United States via Australia, he gave Chief Justice Abad Santos the choice to go with him or to remain in the Philippines . . . He said: ‘I prefer to remain, carry on my work here, and stay with my family.’ The President, probably against his will, respected that decision and entrusted him with the heavy responsibility of governing the country during his absence.”
Until further evidence is available, this is the best we can do.
—Teodoro M.. Locsin

Notes from a last conversation with Angelo Reyes

By Malou Mangahas
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 03:06:00 02/13/2011

Filed Under: Graft & Corruption, Military, Media, Suicide

Living life without honor is a tragedy bigger than death itself.—Angie Reyes

Honor, truth, justice. Honor above all else. Pride goes with it, self-respect, sense of legacy. This is very, very important to me. Sometimes, I am accused of being arrogant. I like to have plenty—a healthy sense—of self-esteem. I react to affronts on this.

There are two options available: to stonewall/fight the legal battle, or to come clean and make my own contribution to cleanse the system.

Stonewalling, I am told, would result in a long, protracted legal battle. However, past cases are not being resolved either way, kept in state of limbo. People’s memories are short and all this will eventually fade into public disinterest, and eventually oblivion. So, not to worry.

Coming clean, on the other hand, cannot be done without giving up something. I have decided to come clean, bare my heart and speak the truth. The truth can cut two ways: 1. If you are guiltless, you can embrace the truth and hope that it will protect you; 2. If you are not guiltless, speak the truth and it shall set you free.

I speak the truth not to whistle-blow or to seek neither immunity nor protection nor to escape from any form of liability. As a matter of fact, I speak the truth to accept responsibility for whatever liability I may have.

Honor is above all else. More valuable than freedom or even life itself. Therefore, honor must be guarded/defended with your life.

Living life without honor is a tragedy bigger than death itself.

Stonewalling would mean I would have to go on every day of my life or at least a large part of it under a cloud of public suspicion, at least until the case is resolved. Every day as you continue to live with the lie, you lose a little of your self-respect. And every day, as people look at you, you can read from their minds that they find you dishonorable, and you die a little. So if you stonewall—and you have the connections, resources and power to sustain it, and perhaps the thick face to endure it—that would be the preferred option. I have none of these, and so I choose the path of honor.

My honor has been attacked and damaged. I still have a lot of pride and self-respect, and I’d like to come clean to preserve whatever honor is left.

We see plenty of people walking around who have been clearly disgraced in the eyes of the people, and I do not want to join their ranks.

I think if you want to cleanse the system and for there to be justice, it should be applied equally and well. Our experience has shown that those with position and power, support and connection invariably go scot-free. I don’t have any of these.

It is unfortunate that we have a huge canvas here of which, I admit, I have been a part; unfortunately, people are now inclined to make me the face of that problem for their own various reasons.

When I participated in Edsa II, even then I anticipated that something like this would happen when I made enemies both on a personal and official level. In my long years of service, I knew that I would have to come to terms with this enmity some day.

I might not be guiltless/faultless, but I am not as evil as some would like to portray.

To my friends and those who have known me and believed in me, I honestly believe I did not let you down.

I want to assure the (PMA) cadet corps, current and future, that there are plenty of military professionals who have served and will continue to serve the country well. Do not be disheartened by this turn of events. Yours is a noble profession (of arms), and you should feel no shame. I have tried to live with integrity, loyalty, and courage.

In my 48 years of public service, I have tried to live up to the highest levels of professionalism and integrity. Whether it’s my assignment with the AFP-RSBS or with the Anti-Smuggling Task Force, I never received any offers of bribes; in fact, I returned them. In all my assignments, 39 years in the military and 9 years in four different Cabinet positions, I have never had any favorite supplier. Neither have I ever extorted money nor set any financial precondition for the approval of any contract. I can honestly say that I served honestly and well.

We are now in the situation where my honor and the family name are at stake. My family, my children, my grandchildren could say with a lot of truthfulness and pride that in the family, we value honor and integrity. Strength to live it and the courage to face up to the truth. This is the legacy I would like to leave with them.

Honor, truth, but there must be justice. And justice can be served if laws are applied evenly and well—not favoring the rich and powerful. I hope my case/situation will not be used as something that would bring closure to the issue of military corruption. The fight to reform the system and the entire country must continue; the sad part is that they are selectively targeting individuals and institutions.

I did not invent corruption. I walked into it. Perhaps my first fault was in having accepted aspects of it as a fact of life.

While I am familiar with finance, I must admit I had scant knowledge of military comptrollership. Personally, zero experience. Never been assigned as disbursement officer, etc., no stint. It’s a military field of specialization that I do not have.

No system is perfect. The AFP system needs a lot of systemic solutions… And the same might be true of some other institutions.

Tinyente pa ako, ganyan na ang sistema (i.e., “conversion” system, etc.)… I can perhaps be faulted for presuming regularity in a grossly imperfect system. As CS (chief of staff), a big landscape, presume regularity, convenient to ignore it, accept it as part of the system. It’s easy to say, institute reforms after the problems have erupted.

I joined Edsa II at great risk. Jumped into a void. Coming from a place that was high and comfortable. Without any regard for compensation or recognition or reward. I thought what I did —being loyal to the Flag and putting the national interest above all else—a right, but I was faulted for not being loyal to the commander-in-chief, that I should have stuck with him to the end, however that end might be. I stuck it out with the Arroyo administration for 9 years, not under the banner of loyalty; I could have deserted Arroyo, but I did not want to be branded as someone who abandoned his superiors...

When we participated in many military campaigns, I would like to think that I showed courage…