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.
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.


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