Something’s gotta give

Theres The Rub
by Conrado de Quiros
from Philippine Daily Inquirer

Before President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo declared martial law in Maguindanao, a couple of people called me. They had been to different forums at the University of the Philippines, one on the Maguindanao massacre and the other on Arroyo’s decision to run for Congress. They had the same thing to tell me: People were furious.

The first was understandable because it was attended by the kin of some of the victims. Their lamentations, apart from their curses, could be heard from UP to Mindanao State University. “Monsters,” “animals,” “savages,” were just some of the words spat out there. Words that had the virtue of conveying revulsion but which had my friend worrying that by suggesting an inhuman provenance to the atrocity, they put it past the realm of secular understanding.

The second brought no weeping, just gnashing of teeth. The idea of Arroyo refusing to give up power, even if she had to drag herself down the gutter in an attempt to bring back the stench to everything through the backdoor was astounding even for those who had warned so.

“Sugapa” was the least of what was said, the other expostulations destined never to see the light of print. It had my other friend shaking his head in wondrous disbelief: “Iba na, bok, things have changed. I have not seen this kind of anger in a long time.”

UP is arguably just one school. But the sudden hiss of fire-and-brimstone wrath, like steam from a parched earth at the first pelting of rain, can be seen elsewhere. In schools, in Facebook and Twitter, in media, in the pulpits, in the markets, in the alleys, in the fields, in the forests, in the streets. It’s a deep-throated rumble from the bowels of this earth that truly hasn’t been heard in a long time.

This was before Pulse Asia came out with a survey that said 79 percent of Filipino voters will not vote for anyone Arroyo endorses, which pretty much dooms Gilbert Teodoro’s campaign, however he twists and turns and trots out a brave front. It’s now just an exercise in masochism, in banging one’s head against a wall and loving it.

When Pulse Asia did the survey, the Ampatuans had not yet gone on a Manson-type spree of mayhem, a thing that has met with boundless revulsion. When Pulse Asia did the survey, Arroyo had not yet declared her decision to run for Congress, a thing that was met with boundless contempt. When Pulse Asia did the survey, Arroyo had not yet declared martial law in Maguindanao, a thing that has met with violent condemnation. You can just imagine what the next survey will say—if she is still around to appreciate it.

That’s the thing to worry about. Not the silly notion that by turning congresswoman, Arroyo can become House speaker, impeach the new president, mount Charter change, and become prime minister. Which, quite incidentally, Raul Gonzalez posits. Obviously Gonzalez does not know his politics any more than his law. Even if Lakas-Kampi overwhelms Congress, why should it remain loyal to a former, and much depleted, benefactor when it can always, as has always happened in the past, fly to a new one?

A sea change has swept over the landscape since Aug. 5. Arroyo has fallen from seemingly unreachable heights, a fall so precipitous you can hear the thud from here to Timbuktu. The days when she could spit iniquity on the face of the citizens, daring them to do something about it—e, ano ngayon, ano’ng magagawa n’yo?—are over. It’s not just that the nature of the beast makes an Arroyo comeback via the congressional route impossible, it is that her unbridled unpopularity, to say the least, makes her very hold on office tenuous.

That is the mother of all ironies. That is a twist of fate to drown all twists of fate. The one thing I’ve wished for devoutly these past several years is the one thing I’m deathly scared of now. That is that Arroyo might not last till Election Day. That is that Arroyo might be ousted by People Power.

The size and depth of the anger are unusual, and there are a couple of factors that could push the citizens to the brink. The first is the trial of the Ampatuans. It puts Arroyo in a bind. On one hand, she gives up the Ampatuans, the Ampatuans give her up. Pushed to the brink, they could sing louder than drunks at a karaoke, confessing all the things they did for her in 2004. On the other hand, she foot-drags or removes the case from sight or sound, she enrages the citizenry even more. Either way, given the state of her unpopularity right now, the results could be catastrophic.

The second is that Edsa 2 is just a month away. Traditionally, politics winds down in December, when people forget their enmities and gather around the hearth for some Christmas cheer. However there is little to cheer about this year of absolute disaster. Traditionally as well however, politics winds up in January, when people buckle down to reality, or have reality splashed like ice water on their hung-over faces, when people wake up broke after the season’s carousing. Come January, people are in a foul mood.

Edsa 2 in particular comes at the opening of the year. That’s the one thing Arroyo has been exceptionally anxious not to celebrate, the thing that brought her to power being the very thing that could get her out of it. The last couple of years have seen her deriding it viciously, telling the world this country has matured enough to let tyrants well enough alone. Given the length and width and height of loathing she has inspired of late, you never know what can happen when Edsa 2 is given the attention it deserves, and when the magical gift it gave Arroyo, which she repaid like a cur, is recalled. It’s a combustible mix, and combustible mixes have a way of combusting spontaneously. Something triggers it, and I doubt that even Noynoy Aquino, who holds the franchise on Edsa, can stop it.

Don’t you have a sense that before long something’s gotta give?