Weakness

Weakness

Updated 06:30am (Mla time) Sept 30, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A12 of the September 30, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


THE STRONGEST argument against the proposed grant of amnesty to the Magdalo group of young officers and soldiers behind the failed mutiny in July 2003 is the bare-faced impunity with which Gregorio Honasan, his comrades and his patrons attempted again and again to grab power from President Corazon Aquino, unleashing mayhem and destruction to the tune of billions of pesos.

The kid-glove treatment early on accorded the rebel soldiers by an administration that, although triumphant in its becoming, was trapped in an uneasy partnership with a military unaccustomed to civilian leadership, served not only to coddle their petulance but also to display weakness. And as any student of psychology would know, weakness-or even the perception of it-is a no-no in statecraft.

But the way it looks, there's a big chance the Magdalo boys would be granted amnesty after the court martial is over and done with. The Palace insists that the six leaders of the failed mutiny did not seek concessions or special treatment in exchange for making a public apology to their commander in chief, but it is also saying that the hearings will be "expedited." The public can take that to mean the hearings would be pushed, or speeded up (a context quaintly Filipino, of a piece with such time-honored practices as “lagay” [bribe]). At any rate, Defense Secretary Avelino Cruz-in whose office the six officers met last week with the woman whom one of them once described as "yakking and yakking"-is preparing to study the possibility of amnesty. Here we go again.

It's quite easy to see why the idea of amnesty for the Magdalo boys appeals to certain sectors. If their leaders are halfway representative of them, they're young, articulate and had a good academic record. And despite the possible antipathy that two or three of the leaders may have generated from the viewing public during their televised takeover of the Oakwood Premier serviced apartments in Makati City, the grievances they aired -- corruption in the military, for one, the sort that allegedly allows soldiers to go to combat with inadequate gear while generals wallow in luxury -- struck resonance in the hearts and minds of many.

Yet for all that, for the wistful sentiment among many that despite the group's unacceptable mode of action, a substantial change would somehow result in life in these parts, it clearly broke the chain of command and challenged the state-and is, therefore, legally liable for punishment. A strong state would not have hesitated to seize the moment and impose a punishment exacting and swift. But, as has been pointed out, the moment is long past for a lesson to be unequivocally imposed.

The mutineers languished behind bars for more than a year, their youth sapped by inactivity and the uncertainty of their future. It was fertile ground for a compromise, although both parties deny that any such thing occurred. Still, in these parts where authorities seem to talk from both sides of their mouths and the administration has lost credibility (through no fault but its own, announcing one thing and blithely doing another as though it had no shred of respect for honor, let alone memory), it is clear what the public will believe.

Strength

GRANTING that quid pro quo governed the Magdalo leaders' apology to President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, and granting that the grant of amnesty was part of it, the attentive observer is left to wonder what the government would be holding as the prize. Perhaps the names of the mastermind(s) of the adventure that again brought a black eye to the Philippines' image abroad and discouraged precious investors from even setting foot on our shores?

It's only fair that the government get something out of a possible amnesty and reinstatement of the mutineers. After all, it's not unreasonable for, say, important and decisive evidence to be turned over by a criminal before the government allows him or her to become a state witness. This is the way of the exchange; there is no room for a vacuum on either side.

But that's granting there is room for a fair exchange, or that the Arroyo administration has the capability in this case to bargain from a position of strength. Is this at all possible in these parts where the military, ever the old boys' club, appears to be still calling the shots, the way it did during the Ferdinand Marcos regime?

'Useless witness'

'Useless witness'

Updated 10:20pm (Mla time) Sept 28, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 29, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


SHE said she left early because she did not want to "provoke an incident." But Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago did just that, when she walked out last Thursday on a Senate investigation she was largely responsible for starting.

"I was afraid I might become too biting in my comments," Santiago said, by way of explaining why she quite literally turned her back on former President Fidel V. Ramos, the principal witness in the blue ribbon committee hearing on alleged irregularities in the Smokey Mountain reclamation project.

Santiago, whom Ramos defeated in the 1992 presidential election, continues to maintain that Ramos had cheated her of victory. And she does not bother to contain the contempt she feels for her one-time Cabinet colleague. Last Thursday, she characteristically called him "arrogant," and described his unprecedented testimony as nothing more than an exercise in "finger-pointing." Ramos, she said, with the practiced air of an expert in the political arts, was a "useless witness."

Now what exactly did Santiago expect, when she showed up at the hearing? That the first former president to testify in a Senate investigation would simply roll over and commit political and legal suicide? That he would 'fess up, so to speak? If she did, then Santiago should feel right at home in the chamber she calls "the Senate of idiots."

Questioned about the legality of the reclamation project, Ramos naturally testified that he had relied on the advice of his justice secretary (Franklin Drilon, now the Senate president) and his chief presidential legal counsel (Antonio Carpio, now an associate justice of the Supreme Court). His answer or defense was only to be expected.

What Santiago should have done, after Ramos stuck to his talking points, was to try to get him off his script. But all she managed to do was exchange one-liners with her political rival. At one point, Santiago told Ramos that he had not answered why a total of P3.1 billion was released to the controversial R-II Builders firm.

"I just answered that," Ramos replied.

"That's what you think," Santiago shot back.

And that was that.

All this absurd behavior raises the question: What are legislative investigations for? The short answer, of course, comes straight from the Constitution. They are "in aid of legislation." The long, comprehensive answer is more complicated and less complimentary. They are exercises in finger-pointing. More often than not, however, it is the legislators who are doing the pointing.

Consider the various hearings on the fiscal crisis or on related matters such as the proposed new tax measures. Essentially, our sainted senators and congressmen used these to shift the focus of public attention from the pork barrel to government-owned and -controlled corporations and Palace spending.

Or consider the hearings which dealt with the woes of the National Power Corp. These shifted the blame from the senators and congressmen who had approved the controversial arrangements, such as the retire-then-rehire scheme, to the government officials who implemented them.

The Smokey Mountain hearing last Thursday had a similar finger-pointing quality, but it wasn't only Ramos who was doing the pointing.

The reality is, legislative investigations have been abused in recent years. Instead of being used as a public forum to find out the truth about an issue of undeniable public interest, legislators have used the hearings to press their case, to advance their version of the truth. We would characterize their behavior as ideologically driven, except that party and personal interest do not an ideology make.

The unfortunate thing is that this crassly partisan behavior no longer seems remarkable or out of place. Almost everybody seems to be practicing it. Indeed, the very notion that senators and congressmen can rise above party or personal interest is altogether quaint, an idea from an idealized past.

Is it too much to expect that an ex-judge like Santiago withhold her judgment during a legislative inquiry? Or use the immense power of the process to get at the truth?

We agree: a witness may be useless. But what uses did Santiago have in mind?

Unfinished business

Unfinished business

Updated 09:26pm (Mla time) Sept 27, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A12 of the September 28, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


PERHAPS law enforcement authorities are bloating figures and blowing smoke, but in the past two years we have been hearing with some regularity about government operations producing progressively bigger hauls of illegal drugs especially methamphetamine hydrochloride or shabu.

In December 2002, the police claimed to have discovered 656 kilos of shabu and almost 400 kilos of ingredients for its manufacture in a warehouse in Valenzuela City that had been razed by fire. Authorities described the laboratory as the biggest they had ever found in the country and the seized shabu as their biggest haul ever, with an estimated street value of P2.2 billion.

Less than a year later, in November 2003, the Philippine National Police Anti-Illegal Drugs Task Force raided another warehouse in Valenzuela and seized P1 billion worth of high-grade shabu and chemicals used in its manufacture. The task force chief, then PNP Deputy Director General Edgar Aglipay, said the estimated value of the drugs and could exceed P3 billion after a complete inventory was done.

On Friday last week, the police reported yet another record illegal drug haul, after conducting a series of raids on two shabu laboratories and a warehouse in Mandaue City. Police found in the three places some 675 kilos of high-grade shabu, estimated to be worth P1.3 billion, and enough chemicals to produce 7.5 tons more of the same drug, which would have fetched some P15 billion in the streets. Aglipay, who is now PNP chief, and Director Anselmo Avenido of the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency again described the drug bust as the biggest ever in this country.

In between these three huge drug busts, the authorities mounted at least 20 other raids on suspected shabu factories and storehouses resulting in the confiscation of hundreds of millions of pesos worth of shabu and drug-making equipment and the arrest of dozens of suspects involved in the manufacture and distribution of the illegal drug. All together, this string of successes makes the anti-drug campaign one of the proudest achievements of the PNP and the PDEA if not the Arroyo administration.

In fact, the Cebu based-drug operations were so huge and apparently so extensive that American and regional drug enforcement agencies are sending teams to find out more about them. What may be of special interest to some foreign governments is that, aside from three Filipinos, those caught in the raid were three Chinese, two Taiwanese, two Malaysians and a British national. This has led authorities to suspect that Cebu was being used as the manufacturing hub by a multi-national drug syndicate engaged in the international trafficking of shabu.

While the government keeps chalking up one spectacular success after another in its anti-drug campaign, victory is not close at hand. The making of and trafficking in illegal drugs do not only continue but also keep flourishing and expanding.

The problem apparently is that the PNP and the PDEA have had very little success in dismantling the drug syndicates completely. Even the biggest police operations have led to the capture of just a few laboratory workers, assistants and drivers. Very few big-time financiers and distributors as well as their protectors in the police or in government have ever been exposed. And yet it is well-known to authorities that operations of the magnitude they have uncovered so far cannot be sustained without a wide network of suppliers, distributors and protectors both here and abroad.

The Mandaue-based shabu operations, for instance, probably involved scores of people on both the supply and distribution ends. But only 11 people are in police custody so far. Where are the other members of the local network? Where are the brains and the financiers?

The ringleaders would not have been so foolish as to risk billions without first buying official protection to ensure free and unhampered operations. So who among the local and police officials were giving them protection?

In a tiny city like Mandaue, how could such a massive operation go on for months without local authorities knowing about it? How could such a well-funded syndicate operate right under their very noses unless they agreed to smell no evil and see no evil.

The police and the PDEA cannot rest until all these questions are satisfactorily answered and everyone involved is caught and charged. Otherwise, it will just keep boasting about ever bigger drug busts without contributing much to really solving the drug menace.

The apology

The apology

Updated 11:43pm (Mla time) Sept 26, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 27, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.


WE would like to believe that, by apologizing to the President, the leaders of last year's Magdalo mutiny have helped the nation take "a great step toward healing." That is the way "our Commander in Chief" welcomed their apology, and that is the way the mutiny leaders described their act of contrition.

But we cannot be certain, at least not yet. We grant that, as the six leaders themselves admit, they were naive, but we cannot be certain that they are not disingenuous.

Even the mutiny leaders' un-consulted co-counsel, Homobono Adaza, waxed skeptical. "I can only understand the apology as consistent with 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu," Adaza said. "The No. 1 rule there is deception."

Are the mutiny leaders truly on the level? The statement from Army captains Gerardo Gambala and Milo Maestrecampo, Marine captains Nicanor Faeldon and Gary Alejano, and Navy lieutenants James Layug and Antonio Trillanes IV describes the takeover of the Oakwood hotel in Makati City on July 27, 2003 as nothing more than a venting of grievances.

"This we did in our honest though naive desire for change," their statement read. "However, as succeeding events have shown, the Filipino people did not agree with our means of expression. As a result, we humbly faced the consequences of our actions and moved on."

As the basis for a dramatic apology, this series of statements is astonishingly weak. Like actors with insufficient motivation the junior officers mouth lines that come across as unconvincing. On the most basic level, their words fail even to suspend our disbelief.

Essentially, this is what the Magdalo leaders are saying: We tried something last year, but because the people did not support us, we apologize. By implication, they are saying: If the people had supported us, we would have nothing to apologize for.

Democracy check: Their action was wrong not because it lacked popular support but because it lacked the democratic impulse. Frustrated with the shortcomings of Philippine society, the Magdalo leaders decided to take the law into their own hands. The original plan was to seize power, and it was only because they were compromised that the attempted coup degenerated into a mutiny.

There is, then, a degree of mental dishonesty in the phrasing of the apology.

It is possible that it was written that way because of legal constraints. The Magdalo leaders wanted to take the next step to "finally complete our nation's healing process," without undermining their defense in the military and criminal cases pending against them. To be sure, Press Secretary Ignacio Bunye has already taken the mutineers' lawyers out of the equation. "According to the six officers," Bunye said, "their action was purely voluntary. Nobody ordered them and we believe they did not consult their lawyers about this matter. They just discussed this among themselves and they understood the implications of what they were going to do, and did it."

It is also possible that the Magdalo leaders made the crucial distinction between their "desire for change" and the people's disapproval of their chosen "means of expression" as a face-saving measure. A Malacanang official, who did not have the courage to be named, attributed the leaders' about-face to the financial factor. "One year without income is certainly a big problem. If they do not apologize, what will happen to them and their families?" the official asked.

The skepticism that met the news of the apology cuts both ways, however. The President's determination to pursue the cases against the mutiny leaders has been impugned, and questions about a "secret agreement" have been raised. Filipinos may be ready to forgive, but not necessarily to forget. In 1986, the Manila Hotel coup plotters were given 20 push-ups as punishment; more coup attempts followed. And since 2001, the Arroyo administration has built a reputation for saying one thing and doing another. It is only natural that the President's acceptance of the apology raised eyebrows, too.

The administration has its task cut out for it: to prosecute the cases against the mutiny leaders until the end, while looking after the soldiers who may have been misled and pushing the reforms the military needs.

Thus, for the President as much as for the Magdalo leaders, the basic principle is simple and Kennedyesque: sincerity, always, is subject to proof.

Bush at the UN

Bush at the UN

Updated 10:00pm (Mla time) Sept 25, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 26, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


LAST week, at the annual opening of the UN General Assembly, George W. Bush presented a campaigner's vision of a free and democratic Iraq. "Iraq as a democracy will have great power to inspire the Middle East," the US president said in a 30-minute speech, suggesting that Iraq is well on its way to becoming a shining example of democracy in action.

The sad truth is, Iraq today is capable only of inspiring fear: fear that American stubbornness and stupidity will make the volatile Middle East even more unstable, and terror-stricken nations even more unsafe.

In his speech, Bush spoke as if the situation in Iraq was well in hand. "Across Iraq, life is being improved by liberty. Across the Middle East, people are safer because an unstable aggressor has been removed from power. Across the world, nations are more secure because an ally of terror has fallen."

The sad truth is, Iraq is descending into chaos-and nations as a consequence are less secure.

Since the invasion of Iraq, over a thousand American soldiers and possibly 10,000 Iraqis have lost their lives in increasingly out-of-control acts of violence. After another visit to Iraq, Jessica Matthews, the president of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, reported: "Average daily attacks have climbed from 22 to 87, and crucial parts of the country are no longer under US (or Iraqi government) control. What was an emerging opposition is now a full-fledged insurgency. The United States is still without a political strategy that recognizes this reality."

Part of the reality that Bush fails to recognize is that the enemies of the US-led coalition occupying Iraq are not necessarily terrorists or even former supporters of the odious regime of Saddam Hussein. "We are conducting precision raids against terrorists and holdouts of the former regime," Bush said. "These killers are at war with the Iraqi people. They have made Iraq the central front in the war on terror and they will be defeated."

The sad truth is, it was the Bush administration that decided to make Iraq the "central front" in the war on terror. Saddam was a corrupt and abusive dictator, but his regime had no ties to Osama bin Laden and the al-Qaeda terrorist network. Unlike Afghanistan, Iraq did not lend its resources to the September 11 terrorists. Unlike Afghanistan, Iraq did not harbor Bin Laden. Iraq was on the periphery in the war on terror-until the White House decided to invade and occupy it. It is the "central front" for Bush only because more American soldiers die there than in any other area of assignment, killed by Iraqi insurgents waging guerrilla warfare.

In his speech, Bush also finessed the reason for invading Iraq in the first place. There are only two or three brief mentions of weapons of mass destruction. But the destruction of the hated Saddam regime is played up for paragraphs on end. "The true monuments of his rule and his character, the torture chambers and the rape rooms and the prison cells for innocent children, are closed. And as we discover the killing fields and mass graves of Iraq, the true scale of Saddam's cruelty is being revealed."

The sad truth is, there was never any question about the horrific nature of Saddam's misrule. The issue was whether an invasion against a country with weapons of mass destruction could be launched without the sanction of the United Nations. The result of American unilateralism, of going it alone with a few token allies, is Bush's pathetic half-truth: The United States did find more evidence of Saddam's cruelty, but not a single evidence of any WMD.

Now half-truths are useful lies; they are a diplomat's stock in trade. That is partly why Bush's speech at the United Nations met a cold reception. He was lying through his teeth, before an audience familiar with both his lies and the conventions of lying. They saw through him.

Professionally polite, they did not laugh when they saw that the emperor had no clothes on, not even a fig leaf of legitimacy or credibility to cover his vital parts. They merely waited till the end of his speech, before giving Bush the traditional round of applause.

Dawn

Dawn

Updated 10:16pm (Mla time) Sept 24, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 25, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


SOUTHEAST Asia's oldest democracy, the Philippines, can only look on in envy as a democratic dawn breaks in one of the region's newest democracies, Indonesia.

We are a country that has been holding local elections since 1905 and national elections since 1935, and yet today it takes longer to count votes than ever before -- and that is, if we're even sure the votes get counted at all. What our 80 million people or so can't seem to do despite so much practice, the Indonesians have managed, even though this year marks the first time ever Indonesians have had a direct hand in electing their president. The other day, an op-ed piece in the Jakarta Post confidently proclaimed that Monday's runoff election "marks the day when elite politics finally died, six years after the Reformasi dealt it a mortal blow."

"Reformasi" is the Indonesian term for the process of democratization that began in 1998, with the fall of the dictator Suharto after massive protests rocked the nation. The apparatus of the dictatorship crumbled, but a lack of leadership failed to fill the political vacuum left by the disgrace of the longtime ruler of the world's biggest Islamic country. The Golkar party of Suharto failed to prop up his successor. Then Megawati Sukarnoputri's Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle came into power but in the eyes of analysts it seemed to be more concerned with replacing the Suharto-era elite with the old elite of Sukarno days. It seemed for a time that the only groups with new ideas were the many fundamentalist religious parties that sprouted.

But something interesting has happened in Indonesia. As the author of the op-ed piece, Ong Hock Chuan, put it, "The mirror cracked further for the political elites during the general elections... Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono's star began to rise. That a single man, with a military past, little support and a spanking new party could garner nearly 10 percent of the votes should have sent warning signals to the political elites."

The elite didn't listen. Yudhuyono went straight to the people, touring the country, placing ads, mounting a campaign all too familiar perhaps to Filipinos but quite breathtaking in its directness to Indonesians. What's more, Yudhuyono concentrated on courting the public instead of making back room deals, something as spectacularly new to Indonesians as it would be to Filipinos.

The party in power, and the incumbent, Megawati, kept making backroom deals, ignoring the straight-to-the-people campaign of the leading contender. The warning signs were there from the first round of the Indonesian presidential polls. The professional politicians ignored the warnings. Yudhuyono won.

Could it be, that "people power a la Indonesia is here to stay," as Ong put it? For Filipinos, it may seem a bit corny that a new era of genuine democracy is being talked about on the basis of a national election finally featuring direct campaigning and the courting of public opinion. Public opinion as a motive force in Philippine politics has been the case since 1922, when the Nacionalista Party split up between those who wanted party decisions decided by party elders, while others wanted the party to defend -- and court -- public opinion.

Whatever happens, though, the fact is that late as it may be in coming, a new dawn has come in Indonesian politics. Once things like public opinion and direct campaigning are proven to work, they become an essential part of the political system. It is tempting for Filipinos to chuckle that we have seen all of this before, and that things can always be reversed. Maybe so. But it does warm the heart to see a nation blooming with the democratic spirit.

It is time for us to take a closer look at our Malay neighbors, the closest blood brothers we have in our region: Indonesia and Malaysia. Both are taking steps toward strengthening and widening their democracy. While we may lack the resources, primarily oil, that help these nations stay afloat, we have our overseas workers serving much the same economic purpose.

The fact that Filipino terms such as "people power" still resonate in places like Indonesia should remind us that our own history and achievements still inspire others. And that, if others are making efforts to improve their democratic way of life, so can we.

Kith and Kin

Kith and kin

Updated 11:01pm (Mla time) Sept 23, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 24, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


WITH OVER P5 million in cash advances in 2001 that remain unliquidated properly up to now, president and general manager Winston Garcia of the Government Service Insurance System (GSIS) should be taken to task for failing to meet the requirements of public accountability and transparency, values that are necessary to ensure that the GSIS is properly and effectively managed. The GSIS officialdom may say that is merely nitpicking, raised by muckrakers who refuse to recognize that the GSIS has vastly improved its income under Garcia. But the issue of proper liquidation of cash advances is valid. Proper liquidation means efficient management of the pension funds of tens of thousands of government workers.

The GSIS insists that the advances were liquidated. But the liquidation came in the form of an overriding certification that merely declared that the disbursements were used "in relation to or by reason of" Garcia's executive position. This form of liquidation does not fulfill the most elementary audit procedures and standards. And even if the GSIS insists this was above board and approved by the audit office, it should at least have the sensitivity to suit its procedures in accordance with unassailable norms. Public accountability requires no less.

But what is very telling about the report on Garcia's disbursements is that the disbursement vouchers were prepared by his sister, Carolyn Garcia-Empemano, who was his senior assistant, receiving more than P130,000 monthly in salary and allowances in 2001. That a kin prepares the vouchers for Garcia's approval may not be illegal but it is highly questionable. And since she's her brother's assistant, could Empemano properly liquidate his advances? Or if he liquidated them himself, could she be objective enough to perform the most basic audit and challenge him when the liquidation fell short of the standard?

Now Garcia could say that as an official, he is entitled to an assistant who enjoys his confidence. That may be so. But couldn't he find somebody on whom he could repose his confidence in the whole GSIS? To be sure, Empemano's work could be done by any of the secretaries or accounting clerks in the GSIS who aren't receiving salaries as big as hers. Moreover, confidence is not an absolute element in effective management. For Garcia and other similarly situated top officials to insist on the strictest confidence from those around them smells like a confidence game is being set up.

But Garcia is not alone in putting premium on confidence and kinship over efficiency and transparency. Even his critics among our lawmakers are guilty of employing their kin and making the public pay for them. Many of our lawmakers have relatives as staffers. When he was senator, Robert Jaworski made his son chief of staff. Teofisto Guingona made his daughter an assistant when he was in the Senate. When he was a congressman, Sergio Apostol made his daughter, Amelyn Apostol Buenviaje, chief of staff. When he was appointed chair and president of the Philippine National Oil Co.-Energy Development Corp., he brought her along and later created a position for her, that of marketing manager, with a salary reportedly reaching P200,000.

The practice is not exclusive to the legislature. The executive and the judiciary teem with relatives of important officials working as confidential employees. They receive salaries beyond the pale of the salary standardization law.

That kith and kin fill confidential and high-paying government positions is a variant of the dynastic and feudalistic makeup of our politics and governance. Garcia and other officials may insist that there's nothing essentially wrong with putting kin in confidential positions, that this is merely a cultural trait, but they should at least realize this does not augur well for effective public management. If the GSIS and other government-owned or -controlled corporations (GOCCs) insist that the regime of high salaries that obtains in their offices is necessary to enable them to compete with the private sector and attract competent managers and professionals, then there's no reason for them to appoint their own relatives and friends as assistants, staff members and confidential employees. This simply flies in the face of professionalism and effective management that the high salaries are supposed to engender. Surely there are more competent people than their kin. Unless, of course, Garcia and the other officials look at GOCCs as their personal fiefdoms.

With that outlook, let the budget deficit go hang. Let the filial surplus thrive.

Books for burning

Books for burning

Updated 00:34am (Mla time) Sept 23, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 23, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


IF former president Joseph Estrada is thinking of putting out a sequel to his popular book "Eraptions," he ought to consider including the following items:

In India, there is a class of people who cannot be touched ("hindi magalaw").

The sitar is a musical instrument whose strings are made from teakwood.

Warlords are people who own land.

Ramadan is not the holy month of fasting as Muslims know it to be, but a commemoration of the occasion when "Muhammad" accepted the holy writ written in Arabic.

Sun Yat Sen founded the Chinese Communist Party.

Mao Tse-tung conquered China and turned it into the most populous communist country in the world.

Funny? Well, yes -- until one finds out that these are contained not in a book of jokes, but in a high school textbook used in all public high schools. In other words, these are some of the lessons second-year high school students will absorb and perhaps carry with them for the rest of their lives, unless their teachers know enough and care enough to correct these errors contained in the prescribed textbook for "Heograpiya, Kasaysayan and Kultura."

Such mistakes do not come few and far between in the textbook, "Asya: Noon, Ngayon at sa Hinaharap" [“Asia: Past, Present and Future”] published by SD Publications and printed in Thailand. Antonio Calipjo Go, academic supervisor of the Marian School of Quezon City, has counted a total of 431 errors in the book of 316 pages or an average of more than one error per page, including passages that are confusing or simply unintelligible. In fact, some information contained in the books can be downright insulting and incendiary to some people. For instance, how do the Chinese feel about being described as a people who like to use opium? And how do Muslims feel about being told that many Islamic ideas come from Judaism, Christianity and the Old Testament as well as from the Virgin and Saint Michael? Or that many of their mosques were designed by Christian architects and are lavishly decorated?

Go, who has made it his personal crusade to denounce substandard textbooks being used in both public and private schools, came out with a paid ad Monday branding the distribution of the textbook as an "invisible crime." And indeed it is a crime, in more ways than one. Out of carelessness or ignorance, the authors have been spreading wrong information about geography, history and culture. If these are the things students learn, then truly ignorance is bliss. At least those who don't get such lessons wouldn't get confused when they know the truth.

And the Department of Education is abetting the spread of ignorance by approving the textbook for use in public secondary schools, the only one on this particular subject that has such an official imprimatur. But doesn't the DepEd have a committee of experts who read and review textbooks before they are approved for use in schools? Where were they when this book was reviewed, or were all of the committee members blissfully unaware of all the 431 errors in this one single textbook?

If the DepEd still thinks that its principal duty is to impart the right education, it should immediately order the recall of this textbook from schools and bookstores. If the government bought copies of the textbook and distributed them to public schools, it should order the publisher to withdraw them and reimburse whatever amounts were paid, as required by the Government Procurement Reform Law. Then it should burn them before the minds of millions more of our students are poisoned by all the wrong information it contains.

All wrong

All wrong

Updated 01:04am (Mla time) Sept 22, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 22, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


ACCORDING to former senator Ramon Revilla's own supporters, he can stake his claim to fame on being the "father" of the public works and highways Infrastructure Program Act of 1995, which put order into the disparate public works programs of the government. He also takes credit for having co-authored legislation such as the law providing for retirement pay to qualified sector employees in the absence of any retirement plan, the law mandating representation for the women sector in the Social Security Commission, the law establishing a senior citizens' day center in cities and municipalities, and the law increasing the minimum wage of house helpers. But it should be pointed out that he merely appended his name as a co-sponsor to these acts, and cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered as to have actually authored them.

The fact is that Revilla as a senator was all about public works, at a time when that sector was plagued with scandal after scandal, including scams involving the very agency he has now been appointed to chair: the Public Estates Authority.

The Public Estates Authority (PEA) has been hit by so many crooked deals that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, with great fanfare, declared two years ago that she would abolish it. And yet, after announcing its abolition, she allowed the agency to continue to function. And now she has put a new man on top: Ramon Revilla Sr.

Given his record of public service, which has been unmarred by genuine accomplishment, it is very tempting to say that any position Revilla is qualified to hold deserves to be abolished. And this is precisely what has happened: Revilla has been deemed by the President qualified to head an office that has already been abolished.

And yet the appointment of the former senator is no laughing matter. It is yet another example of the say-one-thing-and-do-another tendency of the Arroyo administration. It betrays an attitude toward governance that is obsessed with politics to the detriment of professionalism and rationality.

The best that can be said of the President's appointment is that Revilla is being given a face-saving sinecure in return for his political support, and the goodwill of his son who succeeded him in the Senate. A lot worse can be said. Or at the very least, many hard questions need to be posed.

Does it make sense to appoint to a scandal-ridden agency involved in the disposition of public lands and the farming out of contracts, the former head of the Senate public works committee? No, it does not, particularly since even Revilla's own propagandists say he only consolidated the system of public works, but did not do anything to accomplish what that sector really required: a thorough clean-up of the system.

Is there any sense in appointing a man who has been involved in real estate development (Revilla has headed JAB Realty and Development Corp., Sea and River Estate, and Southfield Estate) to a government agency that has control over large tracts of public lands, bordering areas near his home province? Assuming that Revilla has been squeaky clean in his own private business dealings, isn't there still a potentially vast conflict of interest in appointing him to head the PEA?

The President would have a resident of Cavite province, who has dabbled in real estate, heading an agency that still has extensive powers to dabble in real estate development and draw up contracts involving public works. At the very least, this places Revilla in an awkward position, at a time when he should be enjoying his sunset years instead of worrying about potential scandals.

Perhaps Ms Arroyo thinks that Revilla's experience as a senior intelligence officer in the Bureau of Customs from 1965-1972 somehow qualifies him for the job of leading and cleaning up the PEA? Then again, we have to wonder at the wisdom of the appointing authority that believes customs experience -- particularly in Cavite, a hotbed of smuggling at the time Revilla was working in the bureau -- can teach anyone anything except evading the law. Even if Revilla turned out to be the only honest person associated with the fabulously corrupt Bureau of Customs at the time, such experience was too long ago, and he is now too far advanced in years, to do much good.

This is simply the wrong person for the wrong job, the wrong appointment for the wrong reasons, the wrong move for the wrong agency. It is wrong, in every conceivable respect-except if you respect only the naked abuse of the power to appoint and uphold only the most cynical of motives and criteria for official appointments.

Monumental plunder

Monumental plunder

Updated 10:02pm (Mla time) Sept 20, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A10 of the September 21, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


THE NATION remembers today with great sadness and anger the 32rd anniversary of the declaration of martial law by President Ferdinand E. Marcos. Sadness and anger, because the fiscal crisis that the nation is facing today has its roots in the complete mess that Marcos made of the economy during his dictatorial rule.

Marcos, his relatives, cronies and friends thoroughly plundered the economy. The exact extent of the Marcos plunder may never be known, but estimates of the money he stole range from a low of $5 billion to a high of $35 billion. Think of how much good the stolen money could have done had it been used to establish industries, construct infrastructure or provide essential social services.

Marcos' systematic sacking of the economy is detailed in "The Politics of Plunder" written by UP Prof. Belinda Aquino. She said that among the ways used by the Marcos clique to accumulate ill-gotten wealth were the takeover of large corporations; creation of state monopolies for vital sections of the economy such as sugar, coconuts and tobacco; award of loans to private individuals; use of offshore dummy companies to "launder" money; extracting kickbacks from companies doing business in the Philippines; skimming of foreign loans; direct raiding of the public treasury; and "salting" of dollars abroad.

Foreign loans were a rich source of funds for Marcos. When he was first elected president in 1966, the Philippines' debt stood at just under $1 billion. When he fled the country in 1986, the total had soared to more than $28 billion. Most of the money went into the pockets of the Marcoses and their cronies.

The unprecedented level of foreign debt left by Marcos is like a millstone around the neck of the Filipino nation, preventing it from attaining a faster pace of development. Every year, about a third of the national budget goes to the payment of debts.

One of the biggest of the dictatorship's odious debts was the $2.3 billion it borrowed to build the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant. Filipino taxpayers are now paying $155,000 (about P8.7 million) a day in interest on a structure that has not produced even one watt of power.

When Marcos first ran for president, one of his announced aims was to dismantle the oligarchic structure of Philippine society. When he became president, and especially during the martial law years, he replaced the old oligarchy with the new. Relatives and friends of the Conjugal Dictators were given access to capital and credit based not on their ability to pay but on their closeness to the First Family.

The government actively intervened in all sectors of the economy. The private sector was closely regulated through executive orders and presidential decrees. The national economy was opened to foreign investments with the offer of many incentives, including cheap labor, access to local loan sources, tax and non-tax incentives and liberal profit repatriation schemes. The government's income policy cheapened the price of labor and reduced farmers' incomes.

The economic policy of the dictatorship, which was export-oriented and gave preferential treatment to foreign investors, increased the alien domination of the economy. The poor became poorer. While Marcos was in power, the population increased by 12 million, from 38 million in 1965 to about 50 million in 1983. During the same period the number of Filipinos living below the poverty line increased by 17 million, from 18 million in 1965 (48 percent of the population) to 35 million in 1983 (70 percent of the population).

Even the current problem with the government-operated and -controlled corporations has its roots during the Marcos dictatorship. Accounting for 2.5 percent of the gross national product in 1972, they grew in number as well as in size to a 10.5 percent share of the GNP in 1983. Most of the GOCCs have failed and frittered away public resources. They have even mortgaged the future, imposing a huge public debt on the people.

It is clear that the Marcos dictatorship plundered and destroyed the economy. Justice demands that the government continue its efforts to recover every peso of the money stolen by the Marcoses from the people. Especially in these critical times, every amount recovered will help shore up the crumbling finances of the government.

On the occasion of declaration of martial law every year, the people must be reminded of the monumental plunder of the economy by the Marcoses. Never again should we allow a similar thing to happen to our country.

Pay cuts

Pay cuts

Updated 11:48pm (Mla time) Sept 19, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 20, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.


WE support the President's directive to all heads of government-owned and -controlled corporations to cut their pay. Some GOCC executives, President Macapagal-Arroyo said last Friday, had in fact already agreed to take "voluntary pay cuts while reorienting their respective organizations to the imperatives of discipline and effectiveness."

We shall see. This is not the first time that the issue of excessive pay has hit the headlines. In June 2001, Ms Arroyo issued Executive Order 20, setting a cap of P100,000 a month on the salaries of GOCC executives. But the recent list of the 100 best-paid executives in government service, topped by the P9-million salaries of the chair of the Philippine National Oil Company and the chair of the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office, covers the years 2002 and 2003. In other words, after EO 20 took effect.

Inevitably, the ghost of political will raises its hoary head again. If the President failed to implement her own order at a time when her mandate consisted mainly of the reformist Edsa II agenda, what makes her think she will succeed this time?

Her own reading of her new post-election mandate runs against the principles of self-sacrifice she now invokes. From her analyses of her victory, to her appointments to the Cabinet and other sensitive posts, to the term-sharing arrangements in both chambers of Congress that she encouraged among her allies, the President has been nothing but political. She has recognized her many debts of gratitude, and is actively finding ways, sometimes very creative ways, to pay them.

These actions contrast markedly with the new, post-crisis-declaration rhetoric of shared pain, of graduated sacrifice.

Does this mean the new cut-your-pay-or-else-you're-fired directive issued last Friday is doomed to fail? Not necessarily.

The use of the word "crisis" is a milestone; the President will be loath to turn back, after willing herself to get to the point where she could use the c-word. And the decision to make the eight new tax measures the centerpiece of her legislative agenda is a true fork in the road; she has risked political convenience by taking the road less taken.

Burdening the straight-shooting budget secretary with the responsibilities of the now-defunct Presidential Committee on Effective Governance is also a flexing of political will. Secretary Emilia Boncodin is now tasked to go over the controversial sector, "GOCC to GOCC," to make sure that they comply with the pay cuts. "I told [Boncodin], if they defy my authority, then they are disobeying, which could be a ground for removal," the President said. To belabor the obvious, Press Secretary Ignacio Bunye issued a statement which read, in part: "This campaign will be based on a compliance scorecard on pay cuts and austerity measures among the GOCCs. This will be a tool for deciding who among the presidential appointees would stay or leave."

We cannot imagine that the checking of the compliance scorecard will take too long. If we parse the President's own management-speak, we find that lack of discipline and effectiveness-in other words, lack of performance-is something she already assumes. Will we have to wait another year before we see well-paid heads roll?

We think that Boncodin and the President already know which GOCC fat cats have been napping on the job. Many of them have used their nine lives in the first three years of the Arroyo administration. It is time to be rid of them.

Let's begin with a simple test. Which of the GOCC heads already in office between 2001 and 2003 followed EO 20? As far as we can tell, only SSS administrator Corazon de la Paz cut her pay to fit the guidelines (contrary to the careless grandstanding of a sidelined Cebu politician, Sen. Sergio Osmena III, who accused De la Paz of doing the opposite). What does that make of the rest? Sergio Apostol and Honeygirl de Leon are no longer with the PNOC or the PCSO. But the scion of a Cebu political family, Winston Garcia, is still chair of the Government Service Insurance System. Last week, he decided to cut his pay to P160,000-a classic case of doing too little, too late.

What would Boncodin make of him? The answer to this and similar questions will determine whether the President's new campaign will meet the fate of the old.

Fat

Fat

Updated 10:02pm (Mla time) Sept 18, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 19, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


THERE is a new front in the budget wars; the new enemy, after pork, is fat. The Senate launched the new offensive last week, attacking the lavishly compensated executives who run the country’s government-owned or -controlled corporations. The senators chose their objective well; GOCC officials are a rich and easy target.

But the senators, each with P200 million in pork barrel funds, also had to choose their objective quickly; the new campaign is essentially a feint, a maneuver to move the action to a more hospitable terrain. Their battle cry is simple and blood-curdling: “Don’t blame us, blame them.”

To which the only appropriate answer is Shakespearean: A pox on both your houses! We believe it is not only possible to trim the fat in the public corporations while at the same time eliminating the pork in Congress; it is necessary.

In fact, the two practices share a common, dangerous assumption: the sinecures in government companies and the legislators’ pork barrel are based on a notion of entitlement. Those in power think they are entitled to the cushy government job or the padded government fund because they have paid their dues: they supported the right candidate, or they ran for election themselves.

We have already called for a reduction in or the outright abolition of the pork barrel, and we will continue to do so. Contrary to what defensive senators and restive congressmen think, and despite all the headlines about the extravagant pay that GOCC executives have given themselves, the public outcry against pork continues.

But we also agree that the fat must be trimmed.

Nothing illustrates the dangerous sense of entitlement better than the maneuvering at the Development Bank of the Philippines. The Commission on Audit had earlier disapproved a new budget item: a P75,000 “office and staff allowance” for every member of the board of directors. Despite the disapproval, the board went ahead and created two confidential positions for every director, the salaries to be sourced from the same “office and staff allowance” already disapproved.

Last Sept. 6, an official in the bank’s Office of the Legal Counsel, Emma Urieta, wrote COA Chair Guillermo Carague a letter of complaint. “Before the start of the last election ban, the DBP board of directors approved the creation of confidential and co-terminus positions for the office of the board. Each director is entitled to two positions which are given to close relatives (wives, children, cousins, etc.).”

(How considerate of the DBP board, to spare the nation from the back-breaking work of development finance by keeping it all within the family.)

We are certain, of course, that the board can issue an explanation rationalizing the new positions, but what these new jobs essentially amount to cannot be justified. They are government-funded favors, granted to the powerful and influential who feel entitled to them, as a matter of course.

A seat on the DBP board is part of the spoils of politics; Malacañang’s appointments reflect the political transactions it has made or wants to make. What the new confidential posts mean is that the spoils have given birth to more spoils.

In her letter, Urieta decried then DBP president Simon Paterno’s decision to consider the confidential employees as privately employed by the directors concerned, and thus “not required to report to the bank.” These directors’ relatives, she said, enjoy a health care plan and a monthly rice subsidy, courtesy of the bank they do not report to.

Granted, the P75,000-a-month allowances seem small compared to the P9.2 million Sergio Apostol received the other year for warming the chairman’s seat of the Philippine National Oil Company. But they add up.

In fact, it all adds up. GOCCs account for the bulk of the consolidated public sector deficit; regardless of their performance, however, their executives continue to enjoy industry-competitive packages. This disconnect between pay and performance cannot but be unhealthy for public service. Just look at the DBP directors, who regard public service as a source of jobs for their relatives. It really doesn’t matter to them that the additional expenses will impact on the bank’s bottom line. Because regardless of how the bank performs, they get paid anyway.

Profits from crime

Profits from crime

Updated 00:31am (Mla time) Sept 18, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 18, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


OUR recent series on the epidemic of cell phone thefts and robberies, which we've published in concert with our media partners, indicates several problems we've addressed in this space. The first is that the rampant theft and resale of stolen phones present one of the most accessible gauges of the government's law enforcement efforts. Or, as our reports have shown, the failure of those efforts.

Another remarkable thing about the widespread racket involving stolen cell phones is that we Filipinos spend a large percentage of our resources on the service--both for the phones themselves and the services cell-phone providers offer.

The third thing is that consumers really have very limited options when it comes to securing their cell phones.

Our front page last Monday instructed our readers on how to get their International Mobile Equipment Identifier or IMEI number. This number is needed when you make a report to the National Telecommunications Commission in case your phone is lost or stolen. A reported number can then be listed as stolen or lost, and the NTC can in turn instruct cell-phone companies to block those phones, making them useless.

Of course, there is the problem that just as cell phones "locked" to a particular telecom provider can be "unlocked" for P150 or less in stalls in many commercial districts, the IMEI number of a phone can be changed by programmers in the same stalls. This is, in fact, a security problem that plagues all kinds of technology: the crooks are often several steps ahead of the law enforcers.

However, when telecom providers state, as a spokesperson for one company told our Business section last Wednesday, that cell phone theft is a "purely law enforcement issue," they aren't being fair to consumers. To argue that it is the job of the police to go after phone snatchers passes the buck to the government, which is obviously not up to the job, while leaving consumers in the lurch.

The fact is that if ways were found to make the reporting and disabling of stolen phones easier and more effective for the consumers, a large portion of the law enforcement work of the government would be done. A useless, disabled phone, is a phone that cannot be sold or traded. And we must ask what the telecom providers have done to make cell phone security easier for their customers.

We have yet to hear of a telecom provider taking the time, effort and expense to brief their customers on their cell phone security options. It begins with most phones having a programmable security code, which the consumer can program into their handsets, much like the PIN in an automatic teller machine. There is, too, the notorious PUK code, the importance of which is known to many consumers who inadvertently lose or trigger them, requiring a call to the telecom provider. Then there is the serial number of each phone as well as its IMEI number.

In sum, security for the consumer begins with information. Just as telecom providers spend millions in advertising the many attractive ways consumers can avail themselves of their services (and thus spend), these companies should make it part of their responsibility to inform their customers on how to secure their phones. Between the telecom provider, the handset manufacturers and the consumer, a whole array of options already exist to improve cell phone security.

Instead, no resources for cell phone security are offered by telecom providers, because where's the profit in doing so? A lost phone means increased sales, one way or another, whether for lost or damaged SIM cards, actual handsets, or more prepaid cards. Lost phones, besides supporting a growing and highly lucrative underground economy, eventually trickles down to handset manufacturers.

Is it unfair to argue that by omission, telecom providers and handset manufacturers are actually abetting criminality? The telecom providers say this is actually what media reports imply. But it is not media that imply this, fairly or not. It is the public. And common sense.

We cannot continue passing the buck-or the phone. Telecom providers can play a large role in stamping out an illegal industry that thrives on petty crime and unethical reprogramming of equipment. It cannot put all the responsibility on the NTC, or the police, because in the end, it continues to profit, however indirectly, from the criminality of others.

Taxing the crisis

Taxing the crisis

Updated 01:27am (Mla time) Sept 17, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 17, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


THE POLARIZING positions on new taxes do not augur well for the swift resolution of the fiscal crisis. The more Malacañang insists on new taxes, the more Congress becomes adamant in resisting them. The hardening on both sides may indicate the initial dramatics that usually characterizes any tax debate. Or it may show that either side has no appreciation of the rut the Philippines is in.

Whichever, the stalemate is bad for the country. There seems to be a tendency, particularly on the part of Congress, to put up stumbling blocks to any executive measure to contain the fiscal contagion by tax reform and new tax measures. While there is basis for lawmakers' calls for plugging the tax loopholes and checking the worsening indebtedness of government-owned and -controlled corporations (GOCCs), the same lawmakers are notoriously issuing blanket rejection of the most minimum tax measures coming from the executive. Sen. Joker Arroyo, for one, has used hyperbole and alarmist warnings to oppose any and all new tax measures. He has said that the new taxes may bring about President Macapagal-Arroyo's downfall.

It is true that public opinion is against new taxes. A recent survey showed that 78 percent of the population is vehemently against new taxes. But lest our lawmakers use the survey results as approbation of their legislative wisdom, they should be reminded that no survey would ever show that the public pulse is for taxes. If, as the proverbial wisdom says, that the only certain things in life are taxes and death, then a similar public survey on death would also yield the same result as the survey on new taxes. Nobody wants either.

Taxes--and death--are therefore inevitable. But one can deal with these negative realities positively--that is, with grace and dignity. Surely, Congress and the executive should come together to solve the fiscal crisis. And any approach would have to do the following things: plug the tax loophole, stop the bleeding of GOCCs and streamline the bureaucracy, reduce or abolish lawmakers' discretionary funds (pork barrel) and enact new tax measures. For Congress to insist that the executive undertake the first two things before they act on the third and the fourth is wishful thinking. The four initiatives should be calibrated and coordinated.

In the first place, there's no rational basis for Congress to reject offhand the tax measures proposed by the executive. Increasing the excise taxes on tobacco and liquor is only practical because both are sin products whose consumption must be regulated. In the same way, widening the value-added tax to cover lucrative professions is only practical. Strictly speaking, widening the VAT coverage is not a new tax measure; it's merely improving on a tax measure and plugging the loophole.

There are other tax measures that Congress may consider. It may increase the motor vehicle registration fee and even increase the specific tax on petroleum. The latter may come later when world petroleum prices have stabilized, but it is a wise measure if only to control the environmental effects of fossil fuels. Increasing vehicle registration fees can be immediately implemented if only to regulate the car market as well as check the environmental impact of cars.

Other tax measures that are well thought out and practical should likewise be considered. It would also help if Congress firms up its political will on giving up entirely the pork barrel of its members. That will immediately save the government P20 billion that will otherwise go to useless projects as well as line the pockets of many corrupt lawmakers.

As for the off-budget liabilities of government, particularly the servicing of the debts of GOCCs, the executive must resolve to cut costs. It must begin by cutting the salaries of executives of GOCCs whether they are making profits or reporting losses.

Now Congress may say the executive should bite the bullet first before it cuts its pork barrel and pass new tax measures. This is a condition that does not hold water because whatever it says, Congress is a strong part of the fiscal problem. If it continues to hem and haw on new tax measures, it should at least cut its pork barrel so that the savings could go to government operations and programs. Congress should realize it's on the same boat as the rest of the nation, and the boat is sinking partly because of its own inaction.

Formula for failure

Formula for failure

Updated 01:29am (Mla time) Sept 16, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A12 of the September 16, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


SHE isn't abandoning a sinking ship, National Treasurer Mina Figueroa says. And she isn't leaving due to policy differences over how to deal with the huge government deficit. Rather it is because she needs to close the "personal deficit" that developed after she left her job in a large commercial bank and joined the government three years ago. "My resignation is not because of anything else but only because I have to think of my own finances," she told reporters.

"Maybe she wants to transfer to a GOCC," suggested Sen. Manuel Villar, chair of the Senate committee on finance which had just been apprised about the multimillion-peso yearly compensations of top executives in government corporations, eliciting laughter from the audience.

That remark was neither cute, nice nor funny. It was uncouth, unkind and unfair. In case Villar hasn't noticed, the government bureaucracy doesn't pay its officials and employees very well, otherwise why would nurses at the Philippine General Hospital shave their heads and march in the streets to demand a salary increase? The President herself earns only P57,750 a month. Figueroa as the national treasurer gets a monthly salary of P28,875, a fraction of what she used to earn in the private sector. What's wrong with trying to cut one's losses or to earn more through hard and honest work?

It is not only the teachers who are overworked and underpaid; most government employees are. For instance, a chief of division in a national government office gets a salary of about P20,000 monthly, and yet he is required to have a post-graduate degree. At the very least, Figueroa deserves to be praised for her candor in admitting she doesn't wish to continue to make-do with what the government pays her and again calling the nation's attention to the ridiculously low salaries government employees and officials get.

What makes this situation rankle even more is that there is no such thing as equality in misery among those who work for the government. The list of 100 highest paid GOCC executives amply demonstrates the gross disparity in compensation between those who serve in the government and those who work for government corporations. Heading the list submitted to Villar's committee are Maria Livia de Leon, chair of the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office who got P9.9 million in salaries and allowances in 2001, and former Leyte Rep. Sergio A.F. Apostol, who received P9.2 million in 2002 as chair and president of the Philippine National Oil Company's Energy Development Corp. And to think that Apostol, for example, probably knows much more about English diction and elocution than oil exploration and power generation.

It is not just at the very top that people working for GOCCs are more equal than others in government. For instance, some members of the legal staff of the Government Service Insurance System earn much more than the chief justice of the Supreme Court.

It is difficult to imagine a more potent formula for corporate failure than making politics the basis for top appointments and allowing people, with little to lose, write their own paychecks. So it is hardly surprising that most GOCCs have been losing heavily and now government is left not only holding an empty bag but assuming their debts amounting to more than P2 trillion.

Malacanang certainly is largely to blame for this. It has become standard practice for President Macapagal-Arroyo to parcel out positions as rewards among her loyal political lieutenants, regardless of their qualifications. And she doesn't even have the will or the heart to enforce the rules she herself has set, like that one limiting the compensation of presidential appointees to not more than twice her own salary.

But Congress cannot profess innocence either. Its fingerprints are there in the charter of every government corporation. Their charters exempt government corporations from following the Salary Standardization Law and allow them to set the compensation packages for their officials and employees. The result is that every profitable corporation distributes as much of its earnings as it can among its officials and employees, while those that find themselves in the red ask the government to subsidize its operations and pay for their losses.

Congress is hardly a model of prudent spending. For serving in the Senate Electoral Tribunal, three justices earned P1.5 million each in a year. If the justices earned that much, could the senators who served in the same body have settled for less? Then there is their slice from the pork barrel. Could this be lower than the salary of the highest paid GOCC official?

Hidden danger

Hidden danger

Updated 02:13am (Mla time) Sept 15, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 15, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


INVESTIGATORS of the recent bombing in Jakarta have told the wire services that one of their main suspects may have given bomb-making lessons in the Philippines. The Indonesian government maintains that the Jakarta bombing, aimed at the Australian Embassy in that city, was perpetrated by two Malaysians named Azahari bin Hussein and Noordin Top, both members of Jemaah Islamiyah (JI), the Southeast Asian terrorist group affiliated with Osama bin Laden's al-Qaeda.

Of the two, it is Azahari, a British-trained engineer, who is alleged to have taught bomb-making to fellow militants in Mindanao and Afghanistan. The most recent Jakarta bombing itself already represents a raising of the terrorist ante -- the 200 kilograms of explosives detonated mark a significant increase over the last such truck bombing -- and a reminder that the JI is a continuing threat to the entire region.

Beyond this general reminder of danger to all nations in which the JI may have a presence, the claim by Indonesian authorities that one of the suspects may have taught his deadly craft to others on our soil should spur our authorities to intensify their efforts against the JI and its allies here. This includes greater scrutiny on JI allies, including the widely reported links between the JI and the secessionist Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). Time and again, international and Philippine news reports have indicated ties between the two organizations. And while the MILF, since the time of its late leader Hashim Salamat, has said it would make serious moves to renounce terrorism, it has yet to do so in a substantive way.

When the MILF took upon itself to cooperate with the Philippine government in cracking down on the Pentagon kidnap-for-ransom gang, it was a step in the right direction. This step, unfortunately, did not result in any further cooperation. Logically, working together to eliminate the Pentagon gang should have led to efforts to root out the presence of the JI in the country. No such cooperation, or plans for such efforts, have been undertaken to date by the MILF and the government.

If a compelling reason was lacking before, one exists now. The statements of the MILF dating back some years should now be backed up by action. If the MILF is really serious about relinquishing its terrorist past and connections, it should do so by undertaking a joint effort with Philippine authorities to eliminate the JI and its local training camps.

The alternative -- for the MILF to stick its head in the sand, or worse, cynically continue tacitly assisting the JI while piously pleading it knows nothing of the JI's efforts here -- is too grim to contemplate. Not only does it place both Muslim and Christian Filipinos in danger of being targets of a JI attack here, but it also makes the country vulnerable to foreign pressure and even aggression.

Our ASEAN neighbors, such as Indonesia and Thailand which are grappling with militant Muslims, and countries such as Malaysia and Singapore, which are either alarmed by the participation of their nationals in JI plots or fear being the next target of such plots, will not be happy with a Philippines that allows JI training camps to train and export terrorists. We do not have to elaborate, either, on the possibility of intensified American interest in Mindanao, with accompanying political, military and economic pressure on our country to make itself pliable to American strategic interests, at a time when our economy is so shaky.

While the United States views the JI and its capability to attack as an international problem and the ASEAN continues to grapple with the problem, we should remember that this is also a fundamental Philippine problem. Besides the danger of our country being viewed as a helpless, and worse, dangerous coddler of terrorists, we should consider the real danger to ourselves arising from having terrorist training camps in Mindanao as well as terrorist cells in our metropolitan centers. A fearful people, an unsafe people, are a people who cannot devote their energies and concentration to the task at hand. Those tasks are serious enough, without adding the danger of bombs going off in our midst.

All for show?

All for show?

Updated 09:05pm (Mla time) Sept 13, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A12 of the September 14, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


NORMALLY the announcement of House leaders that they have agreed to abolish the pork barrel starting with the proposed 2005 national budget would have been greeted with applause and cheers. But it is a measure of the low esteem in which the House as a body is being held that its announcement was met with jeers and sneers.

One of the critics is not an opposition leader who would automatically issue critical remarks just to get media exposure. He is a high-ranking Senate leader who should know whereof he speaks because he has had many years of experience in whipping into final form the annual general appropriations bill.

The Senate official said that House members were merely changing the pork barrel from a lump-sum appropriation to specific items in the budget. In other words, instead of being lumped together in one large barrel, the pork will be inserted in small chunks all over the budget bill. A similar observation was made by Gov. Ben Evardone of Eastern Samar who said
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that the pork barrel funds might be preserved through "congressional insertions" in the budget.

It has been said that the abolition of the pork barrel would not have much effect in the solution of the fiscal crisis that the government is facing. Yes, the abolition of the pork barrel would mean savings of only P20 billion, about one-tenth of this year's projected budget deficit of more than P200 billion, but it would be a loud political and moral statement. It would set an example in self-imposed austerity and might set off a snowball effect in the rest of the government.

If the House members finally decide to abolish the pork barrel, they would be taking the high moral ground from which they can demand that executive officials, beginning with the President, also do away with the pork barrel in their own budgetary allocations. The congressmen can demand that officials of government-owned and controlled corporations, like the notorious National Power Corp., reduce their astronomical salaries and scrap their huge allowances, perks and privileges. They can also sound a general call for austerity throughout the government bureaucracy.

But first, as many grizzled editors always advise young reporters who want to improve their copy, "Show, don't tell." Honorable congressmen: Show us, in black and white in the final budget bill, that you have honestly deleted your pork barrel from the budget and then we'll believe you and applaud you.

True colors

AT FIRST, it appeared that Rep. Antonio Diaz of Zambales was resigning for a high-minded reason: he no longer wanted to be a member of a chamber that had become useless and disreputable. But later, the man who was once called "the Furusato congressman" showed his true colors. He said in a radio interview that he was resigning because he was not named one of the House deputy speakers and because he had not obtained his pork barrel funds.

Diaz's announced resignation has raised some questions. One is, can an elected congressman simply resign by submitting a letter of resignation to House officials? If he has to resign at all, should he not submit his resignation to the people in his congressional district who elected him?

Another question is whether he may be held criminally liable for refusing to discharge an elective office without a legal motive. Because, if a congressman would be allowed to resign just on a whim or caprice, then theoretically, all congressmen can abandon their posts without suffering any punishment or penalty. (Theoretically, we said, because, after clawing his way to a "very enriching office," a congressman would be a fool, indeed, to just resign and give up a source of power, privilege and pelf.)

We've viewed Diaz's supposed resignation with suspicion from the very beginning because of his past actions in the House. In 1993, the Senate blue ribbon committee found that Diaz engineered the construction of a P216-million dike in his hometown of San Marcelino in such a way that his mansion would be protected by a one-half-meter thick concrete armor. Later, he was found to have eaten--if his expense accounts were to be believed--307 times at the expensive Furusato restaurant over a four-month period, spending tens of thousands of pesos of the people's money for the purpose.

Now, this "show-piece" resignation. If the people of his district have the power to accept his resignation, we strongly urge them to do so.

Private Armies; Booby-Trapped Cars

Private armies

Updated 02:36am (Mla time) Sept 12, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 12, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


LAST week's three-part special report by Abra correspondent Artha Kira Paredes and photographer EV Espiritu is a chilling look at the ultimate dirty trick in politics: assassination. The devil is quite literally in the details, but what makes the story truly terrifying is the shock of the old: The country has seen all this before.

We have already suffered through convulsions of violence by what in government jargon is now called partisan armed groups, or PAGs. In the 1960s and early 1970s, especially, the provinces of Northern Luzon and Southern Mindanao were the battleground of politicians and businessmen who killed each other or each other's relatives and supporters through their private armies.

The armies were the classic symptoms of a weak state: groups that flourished in the absence or feeble presence of the law, that rivaled the local police or military contingent, or that served as an alternative source of power.

It is too early to say that Abra, like a patient on an operating table, has slipped back into this nightmare. Altogether, there are about a hundred PAG soldiers in the province of over 200,000, possibly responsible for 14 politically motivated killings in the six years between the election years of 1998 and 2004. But local officials acknowledge that the polls last May gave the private armies a new lease on life.

Their re-appearance, however, is marked by the same old pieties of local politics.

The same old recourse to the practical: "As someone educated in Manila, I had a different perspective of how the political playing field should be. But when a mayor, who happened to be my close friend, was assassinated, it was then that I decided to put up my own private army," said a public official, with all the wisdom of his 29 years.

The same old lack of faith in the justice system: "Actually, all politicians here have their own private armies. Hindi uso ang demandahan dito [Lawsuits aren't the norm here]," said another politician with a PAG.

The same old symbiotic relationship with the authorities: "They have become so emboldened because they are being protected by some high-ranking police officers," said Vicente Valera, who is only the governor of Abra. But a police sergeant passes the buck. "We are only issued rifles but members of PAGs here are armed with baby Armalite rifles and other high-powered guns. I am 99 percent sure that these were issued by the military."

The same old complaint about corruption and misuse of public funds: "PAG members are better armed than us because the politicians they serve use government funds to buy guns," a police official said.

And not least, the same old justification, the same old argument from deterrence: "The only way for the killings to stop is to make them feel how painful it is to lose someone that you love," said a third public official who maintains a private army.

That line was said with all the security that money can buy, but the politicians interviewed for the special report had one thing in common: They were all, quite literally, under the gun. The specter of violent death hounded them or their families. In sum, their private armies, or the violence that their armies inflicted, have not performed as advertised. They have not made the killings stop.

But the false sense of security they bring is a potent drug; it will become even more potent if the creeping sense of lawlessness the country has been suffering from in recent months-symbolized in the spate of unsolved attacks on journalists-picks up speed.

It is the job of Interior Secretary Angelo Reyes to slow it down, and then to eliminate it altogether. He can start in Abra, scheduling that first meeting with Valera which the governor seems unable or unwilling to set up. His background as Armed Forces chief of staff and then defense secretary should give him the credibility to put pressure on the military; his experience as anti-kidnapping czar should give him an insight into how the police can overcome its traditional rivalry with the AFP and get the job done.

He needs to set an example that the arm of the law is not only long enough; it is also made of steel.



Booby-trapped cars

Updated 10:25pm (Mla time) Sept 12, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 13, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.


THE CAR bomb that exploded outside the Australian Embassy in Jakarta last Thursday was not the first to target Australians. Sadly, it won't be the last.

The Jemaah Islamiyah posting that claimed responsibility for the bombing spoke of more attacks against Australian targets in the future. "This is only the first reply of many replies that are coming, God willing, which is why we advise all Australians in Indonesia to leave it or else we will make it their graveyard, God willing."

The message (an edited version can be found on www.theaustralian.news.com.au) suggested more "martyrdom operations" in graphic terms: "The columns of booby-trapped cars will not end and the lists of martyrs are still full and will not end."

The JI claim justified the attack, which killed nine Indonesians and injured 180 others, as retaliation for Australia's participation in the invasion and occupation of Iraq, but an SMS message received by the Indonesian police some 45 minutes before the bombing gave another reason: the group wanted its leader, the cleric Abu Bakar Bashir, freed from jail.

There is no reason to doubt that both justifications are equally relevant; that is to say, that each, by itself, explains the latest act of terror. The Jemaah Islamiyah-the deadly al-Qaeda-linked group that seeks to establish a pan-Islamic fundamentalist state in Southeast Asia through whatever means-sees the US-led occupation of Iraq as an attack on Islam itself, at least as the group understands it. The detention of Bashir, their spiritual leader, is another such provocation; for all practical purposes, he is already a martyr, inspiring more martyrs.

To be sure, many of the top leaders of the JI, as in the case of al-Qaeda itself, have been arrested or killed. But, also like al-Qaeda, the JI is a movement of martyrs that replenishes itself on the blood of its suicide bombers. JI's loose network of schools and camps and safehouses, some of which are reportedly based in parts of Mindanao, continues to gather more recruits and produce more holy warriors. As last week's bomb attack proved, the JI may be on the run, but it remains a potent threat.

It is for this very reason that many in Canberra criticized Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer for bad-mouthing the Philippines last July, after Malacañang's decision to withdraw the Philippine contingent from Iraq. The two countries are both victims of JI violence, and they need to continue cooperating closely. Undiplomatic language only gets in the way.

But collaborative police and intelligence work is only half the story. It isn't enough to catch the martyrs before the bomb is lit; the allies in the international war on terror must work together to root out the causes that lead to the making of martyrs in the first place.

In a larger war

ACTS of terrorism are skirmishes in a larger war; they are battles in the war of ideas and images. There is deliberate symbolism in the timing of the Jakarta attack, just days before the third anniversary of the September 11 strike. (The Bali bombing, which killed 202 victims, including 88 Australian citizens and three Australian residents, was another such symbolic battle; it took place a year, a month, and a day after the first anniversary of 9/11.)

But there is also an element of political calculation. The Australian federal elections will be held a month from now, and Australia's role in the so-called Coalition of the Willing is a critical election issue. The al-Qaeda railway bombings in Madrid last March led directly to the ouster of Spanish Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar's pro-United States government. The Jakarta bombing seeks to do the same: to roil the political waters, to start a wave of sympathy and revulsion and outrage strong enough to sweep Australian Prime Minister John Howard's government out of power.

What does all this mean? Terrorists have grown more cunning. They now have a better feel for where the democracies are most vulnerable: in the very political exercise that marks them as democratic-the conduct of elections. Through well-timed acts of terror, they now seek to decide the outcome of the vote.

Blackest Hole

Blackest hole

Updated 07:06am (Mla time) Sept 11, 2004
Juan Mercado


WHY is the government seemingly powerless in containing the runaway fiscal deficit? Easily a major reason is the National Power Corp. It has a total debt of P1.4 trillion. That is over 30 percent of the national government debt of P3.3 trillion. Its losses this year are expected to reach P115 billion--already two-thirds of the total net losses that all 49 government-owned and -controlled corporations (GOCCs) are expected to incur this year. In short, Napocor is the mother of all bleeding GOCCs! It is the chief millstone around the neck of the nation.

But oh, the Arroyo administration wants to tighten the millstone around the people further, making it even heavier. It wants taxpayers to shoulder the P20 billion in additional subsidy to GOCCs under the proposed 2005 budget. This does not include the interest payment of Napocor's debt: P36.7 billion this year. A lawmaker has called Napocor's fantastic debt as the "black hole" in the government's finances.

How has it come to this? Since the Marcos dictatorship, especially with the construction of the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant, Napocor has been bleeding. Its financial problems have been inextricably linked with the government's fiscal and debt woes. From 1981 to 1986, it is said that Napocor accounted for 46 percent of the deficits of all the GOCCs. Since the 1990s, the losses have continued to grow--from P4 billion in 1998 to P13 billion in 2000 to P34 billion in 2003.

The nuclear plant has been the single biggest cause of Napocor's losses. It was built at a staggering $1.2 billion during its time. But it has not produced a single watt of electricity because it was built on a fault line and is defective.

Nevertheless, the Aquino administration chose to honor the debt incurred by the Marcos kleptocracy in building the plant. Thus, the nation ensured the security of the US creditors who made possible the loan to build a nuclear plant on a fault line by Westinghouse, which couldn't care less if it was building a dangerous plant as long as it got the juicy, graft-ridden contract. When the Aquino administration chose the legal way to remedy the onerous contract, it lost in the US courts, which, of course, chose to protect US interests.

Now, Westinghouse has been paid many times over, as well as the US banks that loaned an American-cornered project. The close Marcos associate who brokered the deal has gotten away with murder, and the government is paying for an onerous and oppressive debt that threatens to foreclose the republic.

When the power crisis struck in the early 1990s, the Ramos administration hastily approved deals with the independent power purchasers (IPP). In so doing, he guaranteed the profits of the IPPs even if the normal business risks such as the currency devaluation and fuel price increases were absorbed by Napocor. According to a paper prepared by Maitet Diokno-Pascual of the Institute of Popular Democracy, President Arroyo made matters worse when in 2002, in response to consumer protests against the purchased power adjustments (PPA) that benefit the IPPs, she imposed a cap on what Napocor could recover from consumers for the contracts with the IPPs. She reduced the PPA charge from P1.25 kilowatt hour down to 40 centavos and also cut Napocor's revenues by 85 centavos per kWh. She ordered a review of the contracts but all that her team could renegotiate with the IPPs were savings of 9 centavos per kWh. Whether or not the committee she assigned intentionally bungled the negotiations, we don't know. What we know is that Napocor's losses ballooned from P4 billion in 2001 to P34 billion a year later.

Worse, the government allowed Meralco to buy power from the IPPs, some of them Meralco's own, violating the power distributor's contract to buy power from Napocor.

Thus, while the government ensures the profitability of the IPPs, it cannot seem to ensure the profitability of Napocor. It cannot even ensure that power distributors honor their contracts with Napocor. Wittingly or unwittingly, the government itself may be bleeding--and killing--its own firm.

What picture do we see here? Napocor's massive debt problem and the government's own fiscal woes have been created by a combination of mismanagement, corruption and lack of transparency and accountability. Napocor is a classic case of rent-seeking, influence-peddling, and corruption, abetted by government's penchant for hiding the books, evading the issue, and not consulting the public, who ultimately would have to bear with the depredations of the corrupt in and out of government. Napocor is not only the blackest hole, it is also the dirtiest hole.

Twice Shy

Twice shy

Updated 07:30am (Mla time) Sept 10, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the September 10, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


ONCE burned, twice shy, as the saying goes. President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo may have announced her intention to get tough. She may even be serious about not being held hostage by vested interests. The fact is, however, that we've all heard this before, and no one is falling over himself expecting anything to really change.

The President shouldn't be surprised if her attempts at talking tough are received with skepticism. She is about the only President we have had who has deliberately resisted the urge to make grand statements and attempt rhetoric that soars. Thus, she cannot expect the country to leap to its feet in rapture the moment she tries to sound grand.

The truth is, even if the President had a penchant for rhetoric, the country is past confusing rhetorical flourishes for real achievements. We have all experienced too many grand visions being spun in speeches while the reality of daily life only gets worse. The country wants to see results; it wants to see action, not hear words. It certainly knows better than to take any politician, including the President, at face value.

When the President speaks against vested interests, first of all, she must consider how much she is identified with those interests. In the public mind, she is as much wedded to those interests as she herself claims to be married to the nation. Her husband himself, represents the oldest, most enduring vested interest of all, the landed oligarchy. Her political allies themselves represent all the vested interests that have plagued our country: the commercial elite, the various factions of our traditional political dynasties, the families of warlords. It is safe to say that under her administration, the country has failed to witness a sustained period when Ms Arroyo turned her back on vested interests and opted for a grander, braver, approach to politics.

Her deliberate avoidance of rhetoric has been matched by her willful avoidance of political risk when pragmatic accommodation can gain her support. She has dared far less than she has demonstrated as wanting, by making backroom deals and doling out patronage. Hers is not an innovative administration in the political sense; it is a political operator's paradise, with all the built-in cynicism and corrupt and corrupting tendencies this implies.

To top it off, the President has shown that when presented with a choice, the crooked road is more to her liking than the straight path. She would rather deal with the power players, the bosses and fixers than the people who want the system fixed. (Just look at many of her Cabinet appointments or Malacanang's stout defense of the pork barrel.) Whenever the low ground has presented itself, she opts to take it instead of trying to maintain the high ground in her political conduct. (Consider her state visit to China with her whole family in tow, including "apos" who are much too young to appreciate anything they saw there, much less the significance of the event.)

This, then, is why the public's response to her latest vow to not be held hostage by vested interests has been underwhelming. Tough words followed by tough action are not what she has come to be known for. While she retains the grudging respect and even admiration of many, for her personal discipline and keen mind, she cannot aspire--not yet and not soon-to be considered a crusading reformer.

It is simply too alien a concept for the people to buy. And it is certainly not something a population now used to being let down will cheer and applaud with any conviction.

It may be that the President has had a genuine change of heart. She may be sincere. But she is on probation. She cannot, and should not, expect any credit until the public sees those vested interests taking a body blow, one by one. We want to see tax cheats being made to pay what they owe. We want public contracts negotiated with the public, and not private, interests in mind. We would like to see the landed give way to programs aimed at social reform. We want environmental and other laws applied fairly and not selectively. We want an end to exceptions, exemptions, special considerations.

By we, we mean the people. The same people who have heard the President's statement and greeted it with a deafening silence.

Death by Madness

Death by madness

Updated 00:41am (Mla time) Sept 09, 2004
Inquirer News Service



Editor's Note: Published on page A12 of the September 9, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer


IT WAS a particularly horrific scene in this country that does not lack in horror. A man, his year-old baby in his arms, clambers atop a steel footbridge like one deranged, roosts there in the searing heat, occasionally swings wild-eyed from perch to perch, and, after more than an hour, leaps to the ground, killing the child and maiming himself on impact. His injuries are exacerbated by an angry crowd that besets him. Later removed from the scene and flat on his back in a hospital (but apparently quite willing to indulge a TV reporter), the father admits to no remorse.

Early on in the apparently unemployed Nestor Silang's perverse adventure last week, it was widely speculated that he was in the throes of drugs. Indeed, media reports alleged so--perhaps because of the notion that bizarre behavior like his can only be explained by a chemically induced "madness." (As an observer had commented, poverty and drugs make for a lethal combination.) But TV reports quoted Silang in the hospital as denying having been under the influence. It's possible that he was lying through his teeth, but by that claim, he presumably meant to say he was in possession of his faculties when he took his son and namesake on the fatal climb, and no imagined demons pushed him to do the deed.

Silang's wife--pegged by reports at age 35 but looking much older, and marked by an oddly quiet demeanor, as though she were (or perhaps she is) restraining a savage force within--has since filed a case of parricide. But until he is actually convicted and thrown in jail, the chance of his being pronounced insane-and consequently escaping physical liability for what he has done--is great.

It remains unclear what exactly the purportedly sober Silang meant to achieve. Presumably, to kill himself and his son as a means of escaping a life of misery. But in so public a manner, in broad daylight, complicated by TV cameras and a howling crowd? Perhaps it was more to claim the mythical 15 minutes of fame (not that he had the wherewithal to quote Warhol), as indicated by his readiness, despite his certain pain, to speak into the microphone thrust into his bandaged face, in a tone as though he had yet to--or maybe could not--comprehend what he had done.

What Silang did is not unheard-of. Once upon a time in this metropolis of our afflictions, a vagrant who could not stand his hungry son's cries beat the boy's head on the pavement over and over until the wailing stopped. There were few witnesses to the crime. And live TV action was not in vogue then.

It cannot be ascertained if Silang was seized by the same, or at least comparable, level of desperation. How, after all, does one measure despair?

But no less liable are the Quezon City authorities who appeared to have done nothing to prevent the child's terrible extinction despite the eternity that elapsed between the start of Silang's climb and his shocking leap. Watching the TV coverage, the observer flinching at the height of the father's possible plunge and the prospect of the boy's doom could also note the gawking crowd and the general bedlam below. There appeared to have been no effective crowd control and no skilled intervention by way of trained personnel to negotiate with the father for the child's safety.

And to think that authorities have had similar incidents to draw valuable lessons from.

It was only in May 2002 that four-year-old Dexter Balala died in the arms of a man who had held him hostage for two hours in a Pasay City bus terminal. Diomedes Talvo, obviously anguished and unhinged, had seized the boy from his mother at knife point and nicked and ultimately repeatedly stabbed him as police opened fire.

It was a crazed conclusion of a pre-dawn crime that had all the marks of police bungling, down to an unruly crowd, aggressive TV crews, maddening lights, absolutely no one equipped to speak with the hostage-taker in his language, and a coterie of cops that fired their guns with no consideration of the young, shrieking hostage. In the end, the autopsy revealed that the child bore not only five stab wounds but also four gunshot wounds.

The offshoot of that hostage drama was that the 341 members of the Pasay police force were ordered to undergo a 20-day training session in hostage crisis management. As many as 21 officers were slapped criminal and administrative charges.

And that was only two years ago. Expect more of the same in this seeming downward spiral of madness.