Elections, Corruption and Poverty

To aspire for an elective post in this country is to plunge into a very expensive enterprise. The higher the position sought the greater is the expense to incur. So much money is needed to run and, much more, to win a campaign.

In its study of the 2004 and 2007 elections, Pera’t Pulitika (PAP) came out with the following estimates of the campaign expenses for the major electoral posts in the land, namely: Presidential campaign, P2.5B – P5B; senatorial campaign, P150M -P500M; congressional campaign, P3M –P100M; gubernatorial campaign, P5M –P150M; and mayoralty campaign, P1M-P100M. 

Take note that these ground estimates transcend the campaign spending caps set by law which is P10/registered voter for presidential positions (president and vice president) and P3/registered voter for all the rest of the positions, the total amount of which may differ on the size of each constituency. In other words, with a voting population of 52M, a presidential aspirant is allowed by law to
spend only P500M plus P250M from party contribution (P5/registered voter) or a total of P750M. At P3/registered voter, a senatorial aspirant is only permitted to spend P150M. 

But look how much the current senatorial candidates spend for their TV and print campaign ads alone during the first 60 days of the campaign period. The top 10 spenders are: Enrile, Juan Jr. P151, 182, 897; Ejercito, Joseph Victor , P137, 089, 387; Angara, Juan, P85, 512, 805; Binay, Nancy, P82, 763, 773; Poe, Grace, P74, 688, 473; Cayetano, Alan Peter, P74, 485, 513; Madrigal, Ma. Ana, P66, 678, 039; Aquino, Paulo, P56, 257, 150; Legarda, Loren, P46, 953, 296; and Gordon, Richard, P45, 673, 257.

Add the expenses for campaign sorties and for campaign materials, such as  streamers, posters, leaflets, and other hand-outs (and to buy votes directly and indirectly!), the total election investment is staggering.

Although the regulations on campaign spending are unrealistic and never strictly monitored and controlled by the COMELEC, they have been imposed supposedly to level the playing field
for candidates. The fact remains, however, that the cost of running for a political position is very prohibitive. And from the look of it, only the economic elite have actually the opportunity to participate and have the biggest chance to win elective positions in government.

The political race naturally spawns fund raising activities from various sources and in different forms the dire consequences of which may subvert and frustrate the national will. 

Politicians dip their fingers into sources of funds other than from their own pockets. For incumbents, funds may come from the coffers of the government through the like of the notorious fertilizer anomaly in the past and through pork barrels and over-priced and sub-standard public infra projects that materialize few months before the elections season.

Contributions to the campaign kitty may also be solicited from big business, lobbyists, gambling and drug lords, and from big-time smugglers. It is also no accident that a year or so before and during elections, bank robberies, carnappings, kidnappings and other criminal fundraising activities become very pronounced in different parts of the country.

Our kind of political election evidently does not serve the purpose for which it is undertaken, that is, to produce democratic and socially responsive leaders and lawmakers to steer the sustainable development of the country. Instead, our elections have become the mother of all corruptions that prostitutes our morals and values. The entire exercise has become a nasty business where people trade their souls for some economic incentives. Thus decision makings are compromised and governance is sacrificed in the altar of payback development.

Sadly, the citizens have lost the moral ascendancy to criticize or demand anything from the government because they are, in the first place, greatly responsible in putting the wrong people there.

So long as corruption is embedded in our electoral process, our government will remain inefficient and ineffective in the delivery of public services. Consequently, the people will remain marginalized and dehumanized. And the cycle of poverty and corruption goes on and on to eternity.

Indeed, we badly need a new system in the choice of our leaders to make our democracy more rational and functional, effective and meaningful.

A Journey to Uncertainty: Towards the October 1972 Marawi Uprising and Beyond

23 September 1972. It was a bright Sunday morning. The sun was already up and biting at 6:30 am. Yet everyone was still wallowing in the comfort of a deep weekend slumber. I decided to stroll solo from the MSU Bongao campus down the stretch of Datu Halun beach to a distance of some 2 km away. The beach was cool and a little dark as it was tightly wrapped by the ubiquitous shadows of huge Bitaog and Talisay trees that dotted its shoreline. The sea was also exceedingly calm and was almost foreboding in its silence. I waded to the waters outside the shadows of trees and, at chest deep, allowed myself to float, to relax, and to meditate on the pristine, enchanting beauty of my marine surrounding.

A lazy humming sound of a DC plane from a distance interrupted my reflection. The plane was apparently approaching Sanga-Sanga Airport in another island some 12 km from the Bongao campus of MSU Sulu College of Technology and Oceanography (SCTO).

At around 9 am, I traced my way back to the MSU Panel Locks faculty dormitory on campus. What I saw when I reached the place distressed me: fully-armed Philippine Air Force personnel in their grey overall were everywhere. Although they maintained a decent distance from the dormitory and staff houses, their presence was definitely threatening.

The scene in my room was equally disturbing. My locker was in chaos; all my books, reading materials and notes were gone. No one was in the dorm to explain the situation. I looked around outside the building and saw the dorm tenants in a nearby staff cottage, apprehensive and sullen, all ears to the radio set. As I approached them, the baritone voice of President Ferdinand Marcos cracked the air: he was justifying the declaration of Martial Law throughout the country made two days earlier. I supposed it was a replay of an earlier announcement.

So that was it. The dorm occupants were alerted by the neighbours on the declaration of Martial Law before the arrival of the Air Force assault personnel. The lady faculty members rushed to my room, force-opened my locker, hauled all my books and reading materials and buried them to a location that even to date has never been disclosed to me. The little red book of Mao, the nationalist essays of Renato Constantino, the speeches of Recto and Tañada, including the relatively harmless but provocative Atlas Shrugged of Ayn Rand, the Little Prince of de Exupery, and the history, sociology and English textbooks I borrowed from the campus library were put to rest under the ground inside a tall tin biscuit can. My disappearance early that morning alarmed the ladies. They thought the military had kidnapped and detained me. Thus, they had to hide the “evidences” against my person.

Mass Resignation. By Monday, the campus was bereft of students as classes were suspended indefinitely. The suspension of classes added to the uncertainties and anxieties of everyone. The rumour mill began grinding and circulating information about the termination of teachers and closure of some state colleges and universities that had served as the breeding ground of political activists and communists. The tense atmosphere on campus somehow relaxed when, with nothing to do because of the suspension of classes, we started engaging in small talks the Air Force personnel who kept watch on us. They were surprised to know that we spoke Cebuano, Tagalog and Ilongo and soon became friendly to us. In a short while, they reduced in number and eventually faded without our notice.

Classes resumed after a week of suspension. The spirit of the faculty and staff soared up as a result, only to dive on a tailspin when after a few days talks circulated that all employees of the government were directed by Malacañang to resign. By the second week of October 1972, the information from the rumour mill turned out to be true: Following instruction from Malacañang, then MSU President Tamano issued a memorandum order enjoining everyone in the University to file or submit his/her courtesy resignation. MSU-SCTO Dir. Santiago, who flew to Marawi some few days after the declaration of Martial Law, instructed me to bring all the resignation papers from MSU-SCTO to MSU Marawi.

From Bongao to Marawi. With the resignation letters of MSU-SCTO personnel towed inside a milk carton, I took the boat JK Bab from Bongao to Zamboanga on 16 October evening. I checked in at old Astoria, a wooden hotel near Plaza Pershing, Zamboanga City on the 18^th and bought my ticket for a one-way plane ride to Iligan (Baloi Airport) via Cotabato City (Awang Airport).

On the 19^th, the military personnel at the Zamboanga City airport held me up for questioning for over an hour. I was then sporting a long hair, almost shoulder length and was unshaved. The interrogators asked so many questions about the box of resignation papers. I had my Travel Order with me but my school ID and my residence certificate did not have my photo. (There was no photo shop in Bongao at that time). My identity was at question. At any rate, my name did not seem to appear in their Order of Battle (OB). The public address system was already advising me to board the plane. The military let me go on the condition that I have to shave and have my hair cut in Cotabato before taking the flight to Iligan. I was also directed to show them a university ID upon my return to Zamboanga City.

I was finally allowed to board the plane for Cotabato, the last to do after a delay of like eternity. I spent overnight in Cotabato City in a hotel that was overflowing with endlessly moving uniformed men.

20 October 1972. Clean-shaved and sporting a new haircut, I took my flight to Baloi Airport the following morning.

I was at MSU Marawi campus at about 2 pm. I reported immediately to Dir Santiago in the office of President Mauyag Tamano where my return trip to Bongao was facilitated. The MSU Bongao Cashier, Tolentino “Suang” Go, who was with the late Fructuoso Escudero, the Dean of the SCTO College of Fisheries, gave me my travel money. I knew Lito Vizcara, the SCTO Engineer, was with them but was not around at that time. They would leave for Iligan at 6 o’clock the following morning on their return trip to Bongao via Cotabato-Zamboanga

At 4 pm, VP Manaros Boransing arrived in the office from downtown Marawi and was disturbed to see me and Cora-Banno Santiago, the summa cum laude wife SCTO Dir. Fred Santiago. Accordingly, Cora’s name and mine were in the OB of the Military in Lanao – all honour graduates of MSU and known campus activists were in the OB. He reported that Dave Tauli, Fred Apugan, Edwin Bael and some others were rounded up earlier and were already detained at Camp Amai Pakpak. I was advised to hide for the night at the cottage of Fisheries Dean Domiciano Villaluz and would leave the campus for Iligan after breakfast with the Santiagos the following day.

I cosseted myself that night listening to favourite stereo music in the cottage of DK Villaluz whose lone occupant was the late Benjie Ladrera, a faculty of the College of Fisheries. Dean Villaluz had stayed in Naawan doing research and supervising the construction of the laboratories, the shrimp hatchery facilities, the guest house and the fishponds of what would be known later as the Institute of Fisheries Research and Development (IFRD), the forerunner of MSU Naawan.

21 October 1972. Brought my luggage at 6:30 am to the assembly area (the Miravite Residence where the Santiagos were having their coffee) for the early trip to Iligan. I proceeded to the cafeteria to eat my breakfast. I supposed the Santiagos spent the night in the nearby cottage of Engr. Orlando Yu.

At about 7am as I walked back to the Miravites from the cafe, bursts of fire erupted in downtown Marawi. People started rushing near the old gym to get a vantage position in observing what was happening down below. We could, of course, only see light smoke and the scampering fog. The exchange of fire continued. Then a familiar face approached and whispered to me: The revolution against Marcos has begun. The rebels have already assaulted Camp Amai Pakpak and a special force will soon occupy the campus.

I ran to the Miravites and inform them of what the firing was all about. Dr. Quiterio F. Miravite (QFM), the Vice President for Academic Affairs, showed no apprehension. Instead he requested me to accompany him to the growing crowd near the gym. While observing there, a rushing jeepney with MSU security guards stopped in front us. One shouted to the crowd of mostly students to disperse and go back to the dormitory because the rebels were about to attack the campus.

The announcement immediately agitated QFM.

“The Ambassador,” he said. “We need to secure the Ambassador.”

“What Ambassador, Sir?” I asked.

“The Japanese Ambassador, Toshio Urabe. Let’s go to the Summit Inn.”

I collected my luggage from the Miravite’s and deposited it back at the Villaluz cottage which was only some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. The Summit Inn was the official residence of the MSU President and had a few rooms for visiting dignitaries.

At the Summit Inn VP Manaros Boransing was in huddle with President Mauyag Tamano discussing security and evacuation plan for the Japanese Ambassador. QFM and Fred Santiago joined them. The ambassador was sitting nearby, calm and silent, already informed of the situation. He was totally occupied with his own thoughts. He had only two khaki-uniformed escorts who were always within his sight, each sporting an old M16 rifle. His guards were also deep in their thought. No MSU security guards were deployed in the area apparently to avoid attention and hide the presence of the ambassador that way. Of course, the MSU security guards at that time could only be counted with one’s fingers.

The planning exercise hit snags in the absence of information. The communication line to the outside world (via telegram) was already cut. Even the campus local telephone system was already silenced. No one knew the extent of territory under rebel control. Nor the state of the government forces in the area. After some hours, unconfirmed information started to filter into the Summit Inn: That the Pantar marine detachment was wiped out by the rebels and the bridge was already destroyed and rendered impassable; that the MSU cafeteria vehicle on marketing errand to Iligan was commandeered by the rebels and all passengers, rebels and cafeteria staff alike, were killed in a barrage of fire as it approached Camp Amai Pakpak; and that prominent Christian families in Marawi were witch-hunted, and some were captured and killed by the rebels. These unconfirmed reports only compounded the planning of security and evacuation, not only of the Japanese ambassador but also of the university constituents. No definite plan could be made.

One thing was certain: DXSO, the campus radio station was already taken over by the rebels and was used as the mouthpiece of the rebellion, instigating and encouraging the Maranaos in the lake communities to take up arms against the dictator Marcos regime. The propagandists were prominent Maranao students, Ibz M and Ali L.

10 AM. A squad of armed men were inching towards the Summit Inn. VP Boransing saw them first and asked me:

“Do you know them?”

“About half are familiar. The lead guy was my former classmate in Philosophy 40, Guimba P (GP)”

“Good. Find out what they want. Try any means to stop them from coming here.”

That was my first real mission in life. Obviously the rebels were not aware of a potential hostage in the Summit Inn that would attract international attention. My task was to avoid them from knowing it. I met the rebels some 50 meters away from the Summit Inn. GP was quick to recognize me and called me by my nickname.

“Is this now for real?” I asked him gesturing my hands to their old assorted weapons that included a tummy gun.

GP only smiled and said nothing.

“VP Boransing is in the Summit Inn with President Tamano,” I explained. “He wants me to convey to you that the ladies there are terribly scared and are getting nervous over this uprising. So if you please, don’t go there anymore. If you have any message to the President I am instructed to deliver it to him.”

“We just want to ask permission and clearance from the President to partake of the food at the cafeteria.”

“Please wait.”

The rebels’ act of asking permission to eat at the cafeteria amused me.

I conferred immediately with VP Naro Boransing on the request and was given the go signal.

“The President granted your request. Your men may eat in the cafeteria as long as there is food there for everyone. His request is for you to help maintain order in the place.”

Thus, at lunch time, the fully armed young rebels were in the cafeteria. When some of them broke the line to get their share, the students started to boo them. They retreated with their arms and returned to the queue.

The cafeteria marketing team failed to return and the supply of food in the café dwindled to very low level. The same was also obtaining in all the boarding houses on campus. At dinner time, the food ration was reduced to one small slice of bangus with hardly a cup of rice. At the Villaluz cottage we harvested and cooked banana (sab-a) to supplement our diminishing food intake.

As the day rolled to darkness, uncertainty and fear gripped the residents. But nothing phenomenal happened that evening. There was intermittent firing but nothing more.

Fruc Escudero and company had just crossed Pantar Bridge when they heard a deafening explosion and a barrage of fire behind them. They never looked back and went on full speed down to Iligan City. In Iligan they heard that the rebels had destroyed Pantar Bridge, overrun Camp Amai Pakpak and had taken over the MSU campus. Wild talks started to conflagrate the City of Iligan - of the pillage and destruction of the MSU campus, the rape and killing of students and other residents. Nong Fruc and company were totally devastated. They believed that the Santiagos and I were among the victims of the mayhem. What they thought and what they heard in Iligan they also communicated by wire to Bongao without any validation. There was no opportunity and means to validate anything anyway. Thus, friends and dear ones in Bongao cried and gnashed their teeth over the untimely departure of our souls.

22 October 1972. Food supply was getting so low. The coop was ransacked the evening before by either a group of hungry students or by the equally hungry rebels. I did not anymore go to the café knowing that there was hardly anything to eat. We again cooked sab-a which, with ginamos, served as our breakfast, lunch and dinner in the cottage.

Some older men started strutting in the street with their homemade firearms.

Tension mounted as rumour of reinforcement from Camp Evangelista started to filter into the campus.

At about 10 or so in the evening, the military reinforcement finally arrived. It was like Marawi was celebrating the New Year. The explosions were so loud and in luxurious abandon and the bullets created sparkles and arching lights in the sky. Our view of the panorama from the Villaluz cottage was halted by the approaching rumblings of steel and machine gun fire. We rushed inside the cottage, switched off the lights, and dropped and kissed the floor. There was shouting and running outside. Tsak, tsak, tsak, tsak... That was the sound of the bullets that found their marks in the trunks of the bananas behind the cottage. A deafening silence followed thereafter that lasted through the long dark night.

23 October 1972. The military made a clearing operation on campus early in the morning. DXSO was silent and dead. At the Summit Inn, some women helped us in camouflaging Ambassador Urabe. He was wrapped in a malong and other decorative Meranao clothing, and was secured inside an armoured military vehicle. The Santiagos and I took the Ford pickup of the College of Fisheries Naawan Marine Laboratory. At about 10:00 am, the exodus began. The long line of public and private conveyances and military trucks started snaking down the road to Iligan City. All were filled to the brim with a hodgepodge of anxious campus passengers. The movement was rather slow as the military had to continuously clear the path ahead.

We arrived in Iligan at past 12 noon. The atmosphere was in tumultuous joy of thanksgiving. People lined the streets clapping, shouting and crying. I learned that many parents from all over Mindanao had assembled in Iligan to get information on the plight of their children. It was a grand happy reunion of sort of parents and students. The city park teemed with joyful mankind. Relief food materialized from nowhere at no time at all.

Meanwhile, we proceeded to Naawan. Dean D.K. Villaluz, with teary eyes, hugged each one of us tightly praising God for our survival. He immediately ordered his men to prepare lechon and cook for early dinner to celebrate our new life.

Postlude. I was back in Bongao in about a week’s time. I was welcomed like a hero, like a war survivor, by acquaintances and friends. Everybody wanted to hear my story. My girlfriend burst into a muted cry when we were finally left alone in the evening of my arrival. She pinched me hard (apparently to assure herself that I was not really a ghost of myself) to a point that I almost screamed in excruciating pain. Then she hugged, kissed and hugged and kissed me to no end.

In a little while, she became my wife.

To give our life up so that others may live does not mean giving up everything we possess for others. It does not require us to leave our job, to sell our house, our car, and our farms and to give the proceeds to the poor and to live with and become like them. (The early Christians did this and they all became poor and miserable.) But a part of what we earn may mean a meal or two for others, or tuition for a struggling student in a neighborhood. Our house may temporarily accommodate homeless victims of calamities. Our car may serve as ambulance in emergencies. And our farm may produce reasonably-priced, healthy organic crops for the community.

What is required of us by the great Teacher is to share our talents, our gifts, our time and our wealth in responsible and sustainable manner to improve the circumstances of others.

A Matter of Trust: The May 10, 2010 Elections

In my last post before the May 10 elections, I contended that life in this modern age would be easy and comfortable if people trust one another. Life becomes difficult, stagnant and miserable if people operate on distrust.

Trust requires almost as a matter of necessity that those engaged in economic and social transactions will offer and give their best to their endeavor because that is the only way to guarantee and sustain a productive, stable, and meaningful relationship.

Trust was the raging issue during the last national and local elections.

On May 10, 2010, the Filipino people put in their right places the pessimists, the skeptics, and the doomsayers of the first automated elections in the country. The people put aside suspicion and doubts on the credibility and integrity of the entire electoral system and went to the polling places in droves, braving the burning sun or the downpour wherever they were found in the archipelago that fateful day. The voters’ turnout (38M) was high at 75 percent of the voting population. Many were dismayed though by the endless queues but a great number persevered to the end and experienced wholly or partially the novel way of voting electronically. And the entire nation was amazed –stunned by the quickness of knowing the results. By 11 p.m. the same day about 40 percent of the elections results were already made public and the ranks of winning national candidates were already established. Before midnight most of the elections in the local levels were already decided. In fact, in less than 24 after the close of the polling places, four presidential contenders already conceded defeat to the frontrunner. This was unprecedented in the 100-year history of Philippine politics. The gallant act added more credence to the integrity of the entire election exercise.

The many vociferous critics – journalists, opinion weavers, IT experts, church ministers and leaders, the business community, and the academics - were dumbstruck and were eating their words the day after. No doubt the operation of some PCOS machines experienced some glitches, but these were minimal and in most cases the kinks were ironed out before they could morph into a full-blown problem. There was no reported tampering of the machines, software hacking or hijacking in the transmission of the election results. It appeared that the system was almost foolproof as earlier assured by COMELEC and Smartmatic. There were, no doubts, some election-related violence, but they were very minimal, isolated and were effectively contained by the PNP and AFP and were only obtaining in places almost traditionally expected.

The last elections also displayed the ingenuity and resilience of the Filipino. Consider this. The Precinct Count Optical Scan (PCOS) machine in my precinct would disgorge filled up official ballots fed into it. It was replaced by another unit. But the same problem occurred. After about two hours of trouble shooting, it was discovered that the ballots in that precinct were oversize (wider) and were therefore rejected by the very sensitive PCOS machine. So what one of the Board of Election Inspectors (BEI) members did to resume automated voting was to cut some 2 cm off from the right side of every ballot before she would feed the same to the machine. This worked out but slowed down the process by some 30 or more seconds/ballot and had also sacrificed secrecy. But who cared about secrecy at that time when the important concern was for everyone’s vote to be counted.

At the interim, some 60 of us in that precinct bypassed the PCOS machine and dropped our ballots directly to the ballot box to save on time. Being the head of the Roving PPCRV Team who happened to be on the spot, I suggested, and the BEI and all political party watchers agreed, that we go manual in the casting of ballots until such time that the machine would become functional. We further agreed that BEI would later feed the manually cast ballots to the PCOS machine even in our absence for registration/counting purposes. We had to move on.

In many other precincts, the PCOS machines jammed after about 200 ballots had passed through it and disorderly piled up inside the ballot box and eventually blocked incoming ones. The right solution was to open the box and rearrange the ballots. This was tedious and rather time consuming. The common option resorted to was to press the ballots down with a stick or a handle of a broom.

By all indications, the last elections were still not clean and honest. Vote buying in various forms remained unabated. This continues to be a formidable challenge for the redeemed COMELEC and the entire Filipino people to address to next time around. What was solved by the automation was cheating right there in the polls and in the canvassing of results. We no longer heard of ballot padding, ballot box snatching, dagdag-bawas maneuvers, and garci-like manipulations in frustrating the will of the people. The speed of the automation process left no rooms for the scoundrels to operate.

After all has been sad and done, the most maligned government institution of the season, the COMELEC, as well as its hardware and service provider, Smartmatic, its deputized agents, the PNP and the AFP, were all vindicated. They did a fantastic and fabulous job of conducting an orderly, peaceful, swift and credible election in an environment that oozed with intrigues, distrust, mocking, and black propaganda. Kudos are also due to the dutiful teachers, the different volunteer organizations like the PPCRV, the ABS CBN Boto Mo I-patrol Mo, the Citizen Crime Watch, the CVOs and barangay tanods, and many others who all worked hard to insure that the last elections were something that we all can be proud of. Mabuhay ang Filipino!

Trust

If we now comfortably live in this modern time it is because we put so much trust, consciously or unconsciously, in people around us.

We take a jeepney or a bus or a plane to our destination without bothering to ask the state of mind of the driver or the pilot. We simply trust that he will deliver us safely to our objective.

We dine and enjoy our meals in restaurants trusting that the cook and the waiters will not do anything wicked or put anything harmful in the food we eat.

We take the elevator to the 101st floor of a skyscraper with nary a thought that the cables may snap or the tall building may collapse anytime. We trust and do not question the skills and professionalism of all those responsible for such engineering wonders.

We put our money into an ATM machine trusting that the system will record our transaction and give our money back to us when we need it.

We support a friend’s bid for a position of leadership trusting and believing that he will live up to our ideals and dreams he claims to identify with.

Society is built and grows on trust. It is to the advantage of every participant in an economic and social transaction if he offers and gives his best to a relationship. Such an effort would make every transaction mutually beneficial, lasting and sustainable. Once trust is violated the relationship established may flounder and irreversibly end. Thus, we stop returning to dine in an inefficient and unsanitary restaurant. We stop booking our flights in an airline notorious for its unreliable schedules. We stop buying our appliances from a company that negates on its warranties. And we shy away from friends who betrayed our ideals and frustrated our expectations.

There are always opportunists, scoundrels and scalawags in our midst. However cautious we may be, we at times succumb to their charm and wily schemes. But we need not sulk over our failed decisions or on the glitches of the systems around us. Life is never perfect. Yet it self-correcting. In the final equation of things, it still in our favor if we continue to trust and hope on the goodness of people around us.

To operate on trust, life is made easy, peaceful and comfortable. To do the reverse may yet turn life into a difficult, worrisome and miserable existence.

Overheard

During a break in the meeting of the MSU Board of Regents sometime in 1975, and aide pushed a heap of documents to Acting MSU President, Governor Ali Dimaporo for his signature. Without bothering to read the mountain of papers before him, the grand old patriarch of Lanao del Sur started to furiously scribble his signature on the pages where his name appeared declaring at the same time for everybody to hear:

“I trust people around me. But never ever betray me; I would become very violent.”

Code of Honor: Dogs and Underdogs

In dogfights an underdog is the dog that lies on its back after a fierce combat waiting for the final kill or mercy from its enemy. It has no chance of reversing the situation for reason of enemy’s size and strength or its brutal company. It remains on his back waiting for the inevitable. An underdog is a loser.

I don’t know if this is true throughout the dog kingdom but among native dogs or askal once the enemy is on its back and has stopped growling, the triumphant fighter or fighters (as dogs also have this instinct to crowd against an apparent loser) would start to withdraw and allow the defeated to lick its wound and limp home.

Indeed, dogs appear to have a code of honor that governs their behavior which they keenly observe at all times. I have watched several times male dogs rumbled over a hot bitch. The bloody fury is incomparable in ferocity. But almost always while the rest are fighting – mauling, maiming, and humiliating each other for the right to mount the bitch, one wily dog would successfully escape the fray and insert its maddening desire unto the burning aperture of the coyly bitch. When the brawling dogs notice this cunning success they would stop fighting and begin to disperse leaving the couple peacefully to consummate and savor canine ecstasy.

Conversation with a Taxi Driver

When ferried by a taxi to my destination I usually engage the driver in little talks to enhance my appreciation of the issues of the day. Taxi drivers have their ears
on the radio throughout the day and are fed with news and opinions that
make them encyclopedic on the affairs of the state. Many are aggressive
conversationalists with solid reflections on local and national issues.
Consider this exchange yesterday in my taxi ride from Bulua Bus
Terminal to the DSWD Reg. Office near Xavier Estate:

-Sir, who are you going to recommend for president in the coming elections?

-I don’t know I am confused. Do you have anyone to recommend?

-I think Gibo would make a good president. There is no doubt about his intelligence, his experience and preparations, and his sincerity of
intention. But Gibo has no chance to win. He is on the wrong side of
the fence and has the Gloria monkey on his back.

-So?

-The choice is actually reduced to Villar and Noynoy, between a self-made man and a man who is still making himself. I am scared of Villar making
it to the presidency: I don’t know how he would recover his billions of
pesos invested on his election. He may yet impoverish further our poor
and miserable country. But Noynoy scares me, too. He is not actually
prepared for the responsibility. He does not have the talents and
charisma of his father, not even that of his mother. He was simply
pushed by events to the challenge on account of the death of his
mother. From the start he has been a reluctant candidate just like his
mother before. At least Cory showed native intelligence; it is
difficult to read that from Noynoy. What would happen to this country
if we will have a president who until now could not even decide to
marry or not his girlfriend?

-So?

-I will vote for Noynoy.

-To a reluctant candidate, to a man who, as you said, is still making himself?

-Yes. He is honest and incorruptible. And the presidency may yet finally make him. There is no way it could unmake him (He was laughing after saying
the last sentence).

-That is banking so much on hope.

-You know, of course, the story of Moses. He was also a reluctant leader of the Israelites. He lacked self-confidence, was never sure of himself,
and he even stammered when he talked to the authorities. And yet look
what he did and what happened to the Israelites.

-They wandered in the desert for 40 years because of his poor leadership. They rebelled against him because he could not show them the right
direction to the promised land.

-But they did reach the promised land.

-When he was already dead and was no longer their leader.

Our conversation was cut short because we were already at the gate of DSWD. But he had a parting question:

-Sir, who shall we vote?

-Follow your own conscience.