The Philippines as Real-Life Sitcom: Dealing With Coups and Their Makers

Watching events unfold in the Philippines is like watching a never-ending political sitcom. Last December a coup attempt left a lasting image of President Corazon Aquino besieged yet again by rightist rebels, while crowds hooted and cheered like basketball fans. “Surrender or die!” she said. But the rebels retreated, after signaling a timeout. A prominent opposition senator arrested for rebellion and murder becomes a star. Up north, a torturer-turned-renegade-leader runs circles around government troops.

Much of this would be laughable if it weren’t for the tragic consequences. And it shows Aquino’s brand of leadership struggling to stay just ahead of anarchy.

The arrest Feb. 27 of the leading opposition figure, Juan Ponce Enrile, on charges that he assisted the recent coup, should have been welcomed by a public long critical of Aquino’s indecisiveness in times of crisis. But the way it was mishandled--and Enrile’s subsequent release on bail--highlight the kind of muddling-through that best describes Aquino’s four years in power.

There isn’t much so far to suggest that the president’s emerging “get-tough” image is anchored on solid footing. Nor is it clear that Enrile’s arrest forms part of a program to deal with the highly politicized, faction-ridden military once and for all.

Aquino has faced six coup attempts by rightist elements, the last two the most serious. There could be more before her term ends in 1992. Rebel leader Gregorio (Gringo) Honasan and his cohorts remain at large, despite increased bounties for their capture.

Even if she survives more plots to overthrow her, Aquino has a tough role to play, while wily, ambitious politicians like Enrile and her estranged cousin, Eduardo (Danding) Cojuangco, are ready to exploit her weaknesses.

Although Enrile’s arrest has not, by itself, provoked yet another coup attempt, it triggered a bizarre sideshow in the north that resulted in the death of a popular general and several others. Rodolfo Aguinaldo, the suspended governor of Cagayan province, was also charged with aiding the attempted coup, but his refusal to submit to an arrest warrant led to an unnecessarily bloody shoot-out.

The Philippines is full of cult figures like Aguinaldo who live on the fringes of the law. He was a military torturer under the late President Ferdinand E. Marcos and a warlord and folk hero to hundreds of poor and hungry followers. Until things got out of hand last week, Aguinaldo was allowed to defy both military and civilian authority for years. He threw in his support for the Reform the Armed Forces Movement (RAM) that helped depose Marcos. During the unsuccessful coup of August, 1987, he took over military headquarters at the provincial capital and flew the Philippine flag upside down.

The brutal shooting of Brig. Gen. Oscar Florendo, the armed forces’ principal spokesman, has helped turn public sentiment against characters like Aguinaldo. Last December there was public indifference, even sympathy, for rebel soldiers who were portrayed as “idealists” or “reformists.” But Aquino’s government hardly benefits if rogues like Aguinaldo can roam about freely.

Jailing Enrile, the sole opposition senator, was the first such move against any prominent personality accused by Aquino of supporting December’s failed coup. Along with Enrile--a patron of the fugitive Honasan and of the “RAM boys,” as the military rebels are known--Aquino has also named Vice President Salvador Laurel and Cojuangco for possible complicity in the rebellion.

“It’s a show of strength, but it could be a sign of weakness,” said one Western diplomat.

Two days earlier, Aquino marked the fourth anniversary of the “People Power” uprising with an embittered attack against Enrile, who earlier “apologized” to the Filipino people for having helped put Aquino in power. The unforgiving president, speaking in colloquial Filipino, harangued Enrile for “revising” history.

Until a Supreme Court ruling last week, Enrile was detained without bail under a charge of rebellion with murder, although a 1956 Supreme Court ruling held that the two offenses cannot be incorporated into one. If found guilty, Enrile could face life imprisonment.

A former investigating officer recommended to state prosecutors that Enrile be charged with the lesser offense of “disloyalty in times of peace,” since it would be easier to prove. This is a bailable offense, punishable by up to 10 years’ imprisonment.

The charge sheets against Enrile so far are based largely on testimony by waiters who say that Enrile entertained Honasan and about 100 rebels at his residence on the first day of the coup.

If the aim of strategists in Malacanang, the presidential palace, was to humiliate Enrile, it obviously backfired. The former defense minister basks in the limelight of publicity. His arrest on the floor of the Senate left the skillful lawyer-politician ample room for grandstanding. He gave an emotional “farewell speech” to his colleagues while the arresting officer waited outside. He held press conferences. His custodians made the further mistake of giving him VIP treatment with amenities--unrestricted visitors and access to media, including a live telephone hook-up with a TV talk show.

Enrile could parlay all this into a presidential candidacy for 1992, if he is cleared of charges. Though he was defense minister and the hated martial-law administrator under Marcos, people here have short memories and tend to forgive a man when he’s down, or when he treats his friends well. On his birthday last Feb. 14, Enrile gave a huge “coup” theme party with hundreds of guest turning out in designer combat gear.

Another contender for the 1992 race could be Aquino’s estranged vice president, Laurel. The president has said Laurel is under investigation in connection with the failed coup, but the government may move more cautiously in his case. He was out of the country at the time, and the government would be loath to allow him the kind of podium that Enrile’s arrest has provided. Manila pundits regard Laurel as a political lightweight.

Cojuangco is potentially the most formidable dark horse, but he remains tainted as a Marcos loyalist and crony capitalist. Aquino’s government has charged that Cojuangco provided material and financial support to the rebels.

If the government means what it says, it must continue to move against its perceived enemies. To ease up, to continue meting out the equivalent of push-ups as punishment for mutineers, only invites more of the same. Considering how close the last attempts came, the next one might well succeed.