Corazon Aquino, 11th President of the Philippines, died early Saturday morning, 1st August.
Yellow ribbon on the car antenna, flashing Laban signs and smiles at random people, my sister's Cory doll, singing Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo in school...
The point of people power was that it wasn't delivered by one single person--it was the Church leaders and workers, the renegades in Marcos's military, the two million people who streamed into the streets. But Cory Aquino was a focus and symbol that mobilized all these individuals; and while not a sufficient condition for democratic transition she was necessary, essential.
As a nation, this was our defining moment. Our historic crisis against which events in the future will forever be compared.The unfortunate after-effect is that someone like me, whose formative years passed during that moment of history, will always look at life and politics through this good-vs.-evil leitmotif. The lines were so easily drawn then between the politicians you could trust and those that can never be trusted. How one behaved under Marcos was a litmus test of human courage and dignity.
Even after Cory's tenure as president, the messianic force of her belief in democracy (or at least in her mission to protect it) continued to mobilize people against any hint of tyranny, echoing the shouts of "never again!" against Marcos.
Her presidency was flawed, however.
We raged when she waffled over securing a moratorium over paying for Marcos's debts (a burden passed on to generations of our people).
We were dismayed that she stood by while Congress riddled the Agrarian Reform Law with loopholes, and we were baffled by the Mendiola Massacre.
We marched against the renewal of the US bases treaty, shouting "Imperialista, Ibagsak!".
I was a child in all of this, trying to mediate my understanding of what was happening around me through imitation: in the Third Grade, I staged a people-power revolution to depose my English Teacher (a temp, who didn't know the difference between proper and common nouns).
When I think of Cory and those times, I can't help but think of my Dad. Hanging out at his office after school, I was once "interviewed" by a journalist (who was there I suppose to actually interview my Dad) on how I felt about Marcos. He told me that my Dad and I were very brave for speaking honestly. I couldn't sleep that night, expecting to be arrested and brought to Camp Cramé. I was about seven.
Then there was the time, post-86, my Dad was doing some consultancy for the Aquino government, specifically the Office of the Executive Secretary. As he was leaving for Malacañang, he asked me to write a few recommendations to the President. I think I came up with about five, written in pencil on a sheet torn from a notebook.
My generation of Filipinos was too young to really grasp the horrors of Martial Law or even remember how Ninoy Aquino's assassination sent a shudder through society. We knew people, people's sons and daughters, who were abducted by the military and tortured but this didn't really mean much at the age of five or six. We could only parrot what our parents said over coffee and cigarettes.
What we will always remember is the heady joy of February '86. The liberating impact of the end of the Marcos regime and the sensation of empowerment that buoyed us along. The crowds cheering. The smiling strangers.
In our mind, yellow will always color the triumph of justice and democracy. And Madame President will always be that lady in yellow.
From the Iglesias Film Vault. Camera work by my Dad. Everyone's so blurry, it looks like a motion Renoir painting.
Yellow ribbon on the car antenna, flashing Laban signs and smiles at random people, my sister's Cory doll, singing Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo in school...
The point of people power was that it wasn't delivered by one single person--it was the Church leaders and workers, the renegades in Marcos's military, the two million people who streamed into the streets. But Cory Aquino was a focus and symbol that mobilized all these individuals; and while not a sufficient condition for democratic transition she was necessary, essential.
As a nation, this was our defining moment. Our historic crisis against which events in the future will forever be compared.The unfortunate after-effect is that someone like me, whose formative years passed during that moment of history, will always look at life and politics through this good-vs.-evil leitmotif. The lines were so easily drawn then between the politicians you could trust and those that can never be trusted. How one behaved under Marcos was a litmus test of human courage and dignity.
Even after Cory's tenure as president, the messianic force of her belief in democracy (or at least in her mission to protect it) continued to mobilize people against any hint of tyranny, echoing the shouts of "never again!" against Marcos.
Her presidency was flawed, however.
We raged when she waffled over securing a moratorium over paying for Marcos's debts (a burden passed on to generations of our people).
We were dismayed that she stood by while Congress riddled the Agrarian Reform Law with loopholes, and we were baffled by the Mendiola Massacre.
We marched against the renewal of the US bases treaty, shouting "Imperialista, Ibagsak!".
I was a child in all of this, trying to mediate my understanding of what was happening around me through imitation: in the Third Grade, I staged a people-power revolution to depose my English Teacher (a temp, who didn't know the difference between proper and common nouns).
When I think of Cory and those times, I can't help but think of my Dad. Hanging out at his office after school, I was once "interviewed" by a journalist (who was there I suppose to actually interview my Dad) on how I felt about Marcos. He told me that my Dad and I were very brave for speaking honestly. I couldn't sleep that night, expecting to be arrested and brought to Camp Cramé. I was about seven.
Then there was the time, post-86, my Dad was doing some consultancy for the Aquino government, specifically the Office of the Executive Secretary. As he was leaving for Malacañang, he asked me to write a few recommendations to the President. I think I came up with about five, written in pencil on a sheet torn from a notebook.
My generation of Filipinos was too young to really grasp the horrors of Martial Law or even remember how Ninoy Aquino's assassination sent a shudder through society. We knew people, people's sons and daughters, who were abducted by the military and tortured but this didn't really mean much at the age of five or six. We could only parrot what our parents said over coffee and cigarettes.
What we will always remember is the heady joy of February '86. The liberating impact of the end of the Marcos regime and the sensation of empowerment that buoyed us along. The crowds cheering. The smiling strangers.
In our mind, yellow will always color the triumph of justice and democracy. And Madame President will always be that lady in yellow.
From the Iglesias Film Vault. Camera work by my Dad. Everyone's so blurry, it looks like a motion Renoir painting.
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