‘Guns, Goons, Gold’ Time in Philippines : Elections: Authorities brace for traditional violence and cheating as campaigns get under way.

Overshadowed by the brass bands and bunting, banners and balloons on this first rowdy weekend of the Philippines’ 90-day national election campaign, a billboard erected at a major Manila intersection is perhaps the best sign of the times in this troubled land.

“Thou Shalt Not Kill--Keep the Election Safe,” it reads.

That is a daunting challenge as the nation that overthrew dictator Ferdinand E. Marcos and installed Corazon Aquino as president six years ago prepares to elect an entirely new government--17,794 officials from president down to town councilors--in the face of a grim political tradition known as “guns, goons and gold.”

Most early signs are not good. There have already been a string of unsolved bombings in Manila and several shooting deaths in the provinces; police blame rival campaigns. And a voter registration campaign last weekend was marred by massive fraud as busloads of so-called “flying voters” illegally registered in precinct after precinct. Many districts literally ran out of forms by 10 a.m., denying an estimated 200,000 legitimate voters the chance to sign up. Officials will decide today whether to schedule another registration attempt.

In an ambitious attempt to curb violence before the May 11 election, the nation’s Elections Commission has ordered a ban on guns and the disarming of dozens of “private armies” fielded by provincial political warlords. About 650 people already have been arrested, including four congressmen and dozens of local officials. But it is an uphill battle at best.

“The major problem is a lack of credibility in our police, who are often the worst offenders,” said Elections Commissioner Haydee Yorac, who has posted a warning against bribery on her door and a framed bullet-punctured life-size target on the wall as an example of her own marksmanship.

Aquino is not running, the first incumbent president in Philippine history not to seek a second term. Seventy-eight candidates have filed to succeed her, with eight of them considered to be the most credible. The best known, and most notorious, is former first lady Imelda Marcos, 62, who returned from exile in November to face dozens of civil and criminal charges of plundering the nation’s treasury. Despite her tearful appeals for the “poor and oppressed,” often made from her $2,000-a-night hotel penthouse, Marcos is a dark horse at best.

Three men have emerged as the most likely to sustain high-profile national campaigns that are estimated to cost upward of $100 million each in one of Asia’s most impoverished countries. The money goes for everything from bumper stickers to coffins as political brokers and voters line up for largess.

“There’s a very cynical view that elections are a way to distribute the wealth,” said Alex Magno, a political scientist at the University of the Philippines. “It should make the rich a little poorer, and the poor a little richer. . . . There’s a Robin Hood mentality.”

Former Defense Secretary Fidel V. Ramos, 63, won Aquino’s endorsement after a bitter internecine fight that split the pro-government majority party and Aquino’s own family. At a nationally televised rally Friday that featured movie idols and disco-dancing Cabinet members, Aquino said that “if not for Ramos . . . our democracy would have ended” in one of the seven mutinies and coup attempts that have plagued her term.

Opponents say Ramos would face as many problems running the country as he has had controlling the military.

Ramon V. Mitra, 63, the bearded Speaker of the House and onetime crocodile hunter, is seen as having the best political organization, usually crucial for delivering votes.

His bandwagon gathered speed after he defeated Ramos for the nomination of the Democratic Filipino Struggle, the nation’s largest and strongest party.

Mitra, a cockfight aficionado, campaigns as a veteran insider who will “get things done.” His critics deride him as a “tradpol”--traditional politician--a term that connotes old-time political muscle, feudal patronage and wheeler-dealer corruption.

But if Ramos and Mitra split their constituency, it could help the major challenger, Eduardo Cojuangco Jr., 56, best known as Marcos’ closest crony during the dictator’s martial-law regime. Heir to much of the old Marcos machinery and Aquino’s estranged cousin, Cojuangco has built a sizable political base and softened his ruthless image since he too returned from exile in 1989. In between fighting his own court cases, he campaigns as a businessman who will finally lead the Philippines to prosperity.

Still, many saw unintended irony when the barrel-chested tycoon--who created lucrative, thug-enforced monopolies under Marcos--promised at his kickoff rally last week to be the “chief executive of every sector of this economy.” And in a recent meeting with reporters, Cojuangco answered no when asked if he sees any difference between his own financial fortunes and that of the nation.

Other major presidential candidates are:

* Sen. Jovito Salonga, 71, who led last year’s successful campaign for the removal from the Philippines of the U.S. Subic Bay Naval Base and Clark Air Base.

* Former Immigration Secretary Miriam Defensor Santiago, 46, a feisty, fast-talking former criminal lawyer who portrays herself as a “graft buster” and says she is willing to “die in the attempt” of running for president. She leads in Manila-based polls but has little real organization.

* Joseph Estrada, 54, a grade-B movie star and senator. The mustachioed actor-turned-politician’s record is not encouraging--he gave only one speech in more than five years in the Senate. Even his backers are not sure his popularity as a matinee idol will translate into votes.

* Aquino’s estranged vice president, Salvador Laurel, 63. Scion of a powerful political family, Laurel faded into obscurity after breaking with Aquino in 1987. Unpopular in the polls, he justified his long-shot campaign at a recent debate by saying, “I have nothing to lose.”

So far, the colorful personalities, family ties and ever-shifting political alliances have dominated the race, rather than such issues as how the next administration will deal with the $29 billion foreign debt, an average per capita income of $700 a year, debilitating corruption and a stagnant economy.

Determining support is not easy. Other than for cash, voters traditionally cast ballots because of linguistic, provincial, religious or clan ties. But the last real multi-candidate presidential vote was in 1969, and at least half of the estimated 30 million voters are new since then. No one knows if they will respond differently than their parents.

Perhaps the safest bet is that the next vice president will be from Cebu, a vote-rich province that is the country’s only economic success story. Ramos picked Cebu Gov. Emilio Osmena as his running mate, while Cojuangco tapped Sen. John Osmena, Emilio’s older brother, as his. Mitra chose Cebu-born former Supreme Court Justice Marcelo Fernan, whom both the Osmenas had backed until they joined opposing tickets.

If that’s not confusing enough, simultaneous national, provincial and local elections mean voters will have to write in up to 43 names on their ballots. In all, they will chose a president, a vice president, 24 senators, 200 members of Congress, 73 governors, 1,543 municipal mayors--plus thousands of provincial, city and municipal council members. Officials say it may take three days to count the ballots.

“It’s hard to keep track,” confessed Joel Cabigting, a 20-year-old college student attending Santiago’s packed kickoff rally. “It’s all very strange.”